Chapter 26: Trudy - The General's Wife

As a spy, I guess inept would be the best word for me. My lieutenant sent me into the city with a wagon load of corn and a few shillings, to see what I could find out about British plans for the spring. I was told to stay away from Mrs. Von R- for some reason.

I did not have any trouble getting a good price for the corn or the wagon and mule, but I sure did have trouble finding out what Howe was up to. In fact, what I did find out made me think that Howe really did not care much for the fight or that he had no plans. When I reported that later, I was laughed at by some of the experts but it turned out that I was right.

After a week, the only thing I had to say from my venture into the city was that they had some very good beer, some tired whores and lots of rats and lice. I hired on to several jobs as a casual laborer for a day at a time, hoping to gain some workingmen's gossip, but only found more beer and more worn-out trollops.

I was working for a drayman when I did have one good opportunity for successful spying, but I made a bit of a shambles of that. As usual, I thought with my randy member instead of my seldom-used brain, but in the end I guess I did the right thing. Sometimes your nuts are right.

We were unloading a sight of heavy furniture into one of those large, brick houses when, through a half-open door, I saw this incredible woman getting out of her high-backed bathtub and damn near ruptured my employer. "Did you see that?" I asked him, regaining my balance and my grip.

"Gawd damn, you jackass. Don' ever do that."

"Did you see that woman, that redhead?"

"No. Must be the bloody general's bleedin' wife."

"Wife? It was a girl, a young one, boobs like melons, broad-assed and long-legged. Frigging beautiful."

"She's that."

"He's an antique, bald and fat, must be sixty or seventy."

"So? Lift your damn end and twist this way."

We got the heavy chest into the room where it was to stand as a linen press, collected our pay and left, but I could not get the image of the lush, bending woman with the white towel at her chin out of my brain. After a quick beer or two, I took my shillings, thanked the drayman for the work, and went back to the house behind the iron fence.

Two Redcoats stood at the gate, looking very neat and clean and bored. They both smelled of sweat and ale despite their chalk and brushing.

"Who lives here?" I asked one.

"G't'ell," he said. "Move on, y'bloody colonial."

"A general is it?" I asked him.

"Yah," he said, "A German, an' if you don' move I'm goin' to kick y'fuckin' ass."

Since I had a few inches and a stone or two on the foul-mouthed man with the musket, I did not take him too seriously.

"Looking for work," I said.

"Go 'round back then," said the other guard without looking at me.

"Thanks," I said and walked down the fenceline, past some hedges and to the summer kitchen. A well-dressed black man was working on some boots when I arrived, and a large black woman was cleaning carrots and sitting beside him.

"Hiring?" I asked the man.

"What can you do?" he said in a smooth voice with an accent that I could not place then but now know was Carolina-coastline, those fine islands.

"Most anything that takes some muscle and not much brains," I said with a smile.

"Didn't I see you here earlier?"

"Me?" I said, trying to look innocent and confused.

"Awright, lady done fired the las' one atter she done wore 'im out. Three shillings a week and find."

"Good, good," I said, and he put me to work cleaning up the carriage house. The phrase 'wore him out' ran through my mind.

Two days later, I got to see the redhead again and by then I had learned several things that might have been of interest to Lt. Foster so I felt I was doing my job and was entitled to a bit of recreation. It is truly amazing what lust will drive a man to doing and thinking, some would even say rationalizing.

She summoned me to her large, curtained, upstairs room and had me shift several pieces of dark furniture including her huge bed with its draped canopy and then bring a heavy trunk up from a storage room in the cellar. When I set it down, carefully, wiped sweat from my face and straightened my aching back, she stood from the chair by the window where she had directed all these operations. She had sat there, legs crossed, her back to the light, so I could only see her halo of coppery curls and not her face. Now I saw she was as pretty as I thought but not as young as I had supposed. Even better, I decided and I was right. For most women, experience is more than a virtue/

She was a tall, big-boned courtesan, at least ten stone, and her hair color was not like any I had ever seen so I assumed it was dyed. Henna I think the color was called. She might not have been beautiful by the standards of the time, but she was full-bodied, strong and handsome, and she somehow exuded a passion, like the confidence some men have, like a mare or bitch in heat, it might even have been an odor. She surely aroused me, painfully in fact. Her eyebrows were dark and arched and her eyes were the color of cold granite. She had a fine, straight nose and a firm chin and between them rested a large, lovely, and inviting mouth, like a crushed rose. She wore dangling earbobs of gold and several heavy, gold bracelets.

She also had a body that would make a saint weep, nothing but meaty curves that rolled when in motion and a stately posture that thrust out her hard-nippled chest and would have made a Greek or Roman statue proud. She was obviously accustomed to being in command, especially of men, and of being admired and obeyed. She was wearing a dark green gown, silk I suppose, flapping open at her impressive forward works, tied just below her large ponts and clinging to her rounded hips, firm buttocks and long legs as she moved within it. She was barefoot and showed a good bit of calf when she walked. She had big feet.

She stood squarely before me, wordlessly, and put both her hands up on my shoulders, cocking her head to the side and letting me enjoy the view of the deeply shadowed cleft in her upright bosom and the smell of her animal scent, not perfume, of her musky and lustrous body while she licked her lips, contemplating I knew not what. She reminded me of the woman I sailed up the Hudson with, a very pleasant memory.

I untied her long, slick belt and put my big paws on her silken hips, lightly, sliding them down to her wide buttocks while she looked at me as her gown peeled slowly open. We smiled at each other and sniffed, more animal behavior. I tried to control my breathing while I enjoyed watching hers and felt myself fiercely aroused by the rise and fall of her chest, by the growing size of her dark nipples which swelled and hardened as I kneaded her round bottom.

"Yes," she said deep in her tall throat, after licking her lips again and taking a quick breath that pushed aside her gown, "I think you'll do, and you're certainly big enough. Come over here."

She took me by the hand, turned with a swing of her fiery hair and a swish of her clinging gown and sat on the edge of her high bed, the soft garment suddenly open to reveal a delicate garden of fleshy delights beneath a thick mat of dark curls. Her toes were well off the floor, heels braced on the side of the bed. She spread her knees and smiled up at me as her pink-lipped portal opened, trembling and wet, juicy and fragrant.

"Now," she said quietly after she removed my heavy belt and big blade while I enjoyed the view with my finger tips on her legs and thumbs moving up the inside of her thighs, "inspection, if you please." She unbuttoned my tight-stretched foreflap and dragged out my swelling weapon while I lifted and caressed her heavy breasts and then peeled her cool, slick gown from her wide, freckled shoulders so it hung at her elbows. She did not seem to notice.

"My," she said softly, almost a purr, looking up briefly as I gently pinched her tits, "quiet impressive. But does it rear, can it canter, is it properly trained, will it stay the course? Perhaps it's just for show, a fine display I'll admit." She flicked it with a finger nail, stroked it and smiled up at me as I raked back her hair, fingered her ears, caressed her bare shoulders, and bent to kiss her neck and then take her open, waiting mouth with mine, tonguing her deeply. Her skin was warm and pebbly with gooseflesh.

She tasted fine, sweet and fruity, and her tongue was long and hard. She gnawed at my lower lip. One strong hand came to my hip and pulled me forward between her wide-spread legs while she held my throbbing cock firmly with her other hand, slowly stroking up and down my shaft, moving the foreskin.

She dripped and trembled with anticipation, her tongue at her lower lip as we joined under her direction. Her mouth slowly came open, and she closed her eyes as my thick rod disappeared below her fire-colored bush. Her hand slipped down my overheated stalk to grasp my swollen ballocks. She squeezed; I pushed forward, up and in. She was tight and throbbing, clenching and releasing.

I held my breath and she grunted with satisfaction and showed her teeth as my britches dropped to my trembling knees and my thick spear made deeper penetration, battering through her defenses into her citadel. Her hands slid around my back, and my heart thumped noisily in my chest as we began to move gently together, hips flexing toward each other. She inched forward. I lifted my chin, shoved hard and gritted my teeth.

She exhaled as if she also had been holding her breath, and her arms and legs held me tight, fingernails digging into my butt as I drove steadily higher. Suddenly, she leaned back and looked up wide-eyed as I struck bone. We lurched together, coupling again and again as she gasped over and over. We made a solid, smacking sound when we joined and a sucking noise as we pulled apart. I bent and mashed our mouths together, but she pulled her head away and arched her neck, shaking loose her hair, panting rapidly, her whole body undulating, heaving her hips at me harder and harder.

"Very fine," she said between clenched teeth after some minutes of furious plowing had passed, my back had begun to ache and a few beads of sweat had dotted her forehead. We had achieved a slow-march pace that most women found more than satisfactory, even exhausting, perhaps fifty or sixty strokes a minute. "Now, a bit faster if you please," she commanded, "more effort, sirrah, and deeper, much deeper!" She kicked me as you would spur a horse. "Deeper, damn you! Harder! Harder!"

They could have heard her across the street. She grabbed the back of my thighs, kicked me again with her heels and urged me on, her forehead battering at my sternum from time to time as she heaved in my relentless grip and the pace quickly doubled and redoubled. Blood rushed in my ears, and I gritted my teeth and felt my throat and belly strain with effort. My legs began to cramp. I grabbed her hair in both hands, bent her head back and kissed her fiercely until she shook loose again, gasping and heaving from side to side, grinding herself into me as I tried to tear her in two and drive my tongue down her throat.

She spasmed and shook, fell back on her bed, arms spread wide, hands knotted into fists, large nipples erect on her massive jugs, knees mashing the backs of my thighs. I stood rooted, holding her buttocks up, shaking with lust, feet braced, and gripping her wide hips as she thrashed about in her green silk, speared, back bent to its fullest extent, eyes closed, teeth on her lower lip and half-rolling left and right with her ankles locked behind me, her wonderfully red hair flailing about her sweating face. I smiled down as she fought to regain control only to jump and shudder again with pleasure when I boned her, her whole body shaking as I slowed the pace and lengthened the strokes, watching my thick-veined shaft slide in and out of her soaked bush and then holding it fully extended in her until it jumped and she squealed.

"Yeeee," she cried, and she writhed like a serpent while I grasped her thighs, sliding almost all the way out before driving into her again. "Yes, yes," she sighed, jumping to and fro and hammering at the back of my legs with her feet. She seemed to achieve one climax after another unless it was all one, long, shuddering peak of her body's overheated fulfillment.

"Will it do?" I managed to ask between gasps. She smiled in reply and somehow mouthed "more" without saying the word. Her tongue lolled in her mouth and her jaw trembled. Her belly shook and her muscles contracted over and over as I slowed even more, holding myself off as best I could, resisting the urge to come quickly. My appetite for her seemed endless, bottomless, ceaseless, and she, obviously, still was not fully satisfied. Her big breasts jolted to and fro and her belly was in constant motion as well.

I heard myself making noises of effort, as though I was hauling a full hod of bricks up a long, steep ladder, step by difficult step. "Uh, uh, uh." I groaned.

She responded with as series of throaty moans, as if she was trying to pull a stopper out of a barrel, "Ugh, ugh, ugh." We stayed in desperate and endless cadence. I was shoveling coal into an unsatisfiable furnace. She was pumping a huge bellows with all her strength. I remembered the woman at the forge, the one whose home burned to the ground.

Her sweat-damp hair almost covered her face, and she attempted to blow it aside. Her head and shoulders bounced and rolled on the mattress. The veins in her neck bulged and a muscle at the base of her jaw twitched. Her thighs clamped and relaxed again and again. Her belly quivered and roiled. She kicked me, heaved up and down and hammered the bed with her fists, shaking her head from side to side and gasping out broken syllables that might have been words, parceling them out at every thrust. "Fa, ah, ah, an, fan, uh, uh, tas, ah, la, tast, um, um, tastic, ah, tic, ah," she sighed. "Fantastic, fantastic."

Then suddenly, like a cold wind, she seemed to shuck off the passion of the moment, grabbed my arms and pulled herself up, put both hands behind my head. She kissed me hard, our teeth clacking, her tongue deep in my mouth, knees prodding under my ribs. "Stop," she said, breathlessly, putting her hands on my chest and wriggling away, lowering her long legs, her belly calming. "Now stop, you must obey or this will be the last time."

I exhaled and stepped back from her, horny and dripping. "Are you going to leave me like this?" I asked, trying to keep the anger from my voice, my hand at the side of her sweaty face, my thumb fish-hooked between her cracked lips, a finger at the very edge of her eye. My legs shook, calves cramped, stones ached.