Chapter 82: A Doubtful Tale

Not Credible

"See this here place, this area," the lieutenant said pointing to his map.

I nodded.

"Somewhere in these woods there's a home guard bunch that has been raising hell with the Redcoats," he stopped and looked at me. "You ain't busy are you?"

"No sir," I said, not wanting to lie but having enjoyed several days of inactivity.

"Go find out who's leading 'em. Tell 'em we're getting ready to retreat again. See if you can get this bunch to join up."

I nodded and studied the map some more. Looked to be about ten miles off with two streams to cross.

"Take some extra ammo, that ready-made British stuff we got recently," Foster said. "And get going. We'll meet you about here." He poked the map again. "Two weeks, no more, ten days'd be better."

It was a soft day, and my mare was in good shape so we trotted right along, and by the time the sun was high we were in the area I had been shown. I had seen no one, not even a cow, and most of the farms looked to be abandoned. I was relaxed with my musket tied on my blanket roll, a small pistol in the back of my belt and my heavy bayonet at my side. We were moving along a narrow trail when a voice behind me said, "Stop. Put up your hands," and another rider appeared right in front of me, a woman standing in her stirrups. My brain figured out that the voice was female but it took a few seconds.

I stopped and raised my hands, trying to look harmless. The mare bobbed her head at the stallion before us with the long-legged woman astride it. She was dressed like a man, tight britches and loose hunting shirt, but there was no doubt she was a woman. The diagonal strap of her cartridge box clearly defined her ample bosom and her narrow waist and rounded hips bespoke her sex as did her fair visage. The other rider, another female but a bit younger, came up beside me and took my musket and ammunition pouch. She missed the pistol which was under my shirttail.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" said the woman before me who had drawn a bit closer. Under her round hat with its wide brim, she was a fine looking young woman, and her body was extraordinary; deep chested, small waisted, full hipped, heavy thighed, and long legged. My root stirred, by damn, said my randy brain, what a piece.

I told her my name and said I was a Marylander.

"Go on," she said, "what are you doing here?"

"Looking for rebels," I said. "My officer sent me to warn them."

"About what?" she said, eyes wary.

"We're falling back again," I told her, wondering who she was and enjoying the sight of her lean body and high breasts when the sun defined them within her light shirt. "We can't hold this area." She sat her horse well, at ease. I wanted be lie between those well-muscled legs.

"We don't give a damn," she said. "We'd just as leave shoot the bastards in the back as the front."

"Ma'am?" I said.

"Don't you m'am me, you big oaf. I'm Captain Jackson and these woods are mine. Nobody comes through here unless I let them." She lifted her chin, stuck out her chest and smiled at me as her nipples strained the cloth. "What's your outfit?"

I told her, said we were rear guard and handed over the ammunition from my saddle bags. She thanked me, kicked her horse and said, "Come on."

The other rider stayed behind me, and I glanced back at her a time or two. She was alert and rode with my musket across her lap and a smile on her lips. I enjoyed watching both of them bounce and wished I had been under either of them instead of their horses.

Captain Jackson's camp was in a small valley with a good stream. Her people had built lean-tos against the hillside, and until you were right on them, you could not see them for the trees and shrubbery. There were six shelters and ten or twelve people visible in camp, all women and, as far as I could see, all dressed as men, not a skirt in sight. Her log and mud hut was the largest of the bunch, but I had to bend my head low to enter her doorway. She sat on an animal skin by a rolled up blanket, put aside her weapon, crossed her legs Indian style and looked up at me. I admired her muscular thighs. She cocked her head slightly and made an odd face.

"Let me see it," she said quietly as she unhooked her sword belt and gave me a smile.

"Eh?" I replied brightly.

"Come on. Don't be bashful. I saw how you looked at me out there."

"Ma'am?" I said, kneeling to face her, tempted to grab her. I sat back on my heels and tried to relax.

"Damn it, I've told you about that. Show me your weapon, your fuggin' stupid male member, that I'm sure you're terribly proud of. We don' keep men that aren't going to be useful. Be quick about it. Been a'while since I seen one."

I looked down at her and saw that she was serious, leaning back on one elbow and studying me like I was a bug under a pin. I undid my foreflap, looked toward the roof, formed a mental image of her perched on my legs and my ram between her nether lips and flipped out my long, limp prod.

I clasped my hands in the small of my back, made my groin muscles flex, tightened up my belly and pumped blood into the dangling thing. Once I felt it filling and rising, I glanced at her, concentrating on her mouth, visualizing my rude ambition, seeing it slide in and out of those soft lips, feeling that tongue licking me, circling its swollen head.

She seemed mesmerized and licked her lips as it rose, trembling and still growing, firm but not yet hard, perhaps six inches of it hanging down in front of me plus its spongey head, but still trembling and getting thicker by the minute, not quite ready to rise, but pushed out a bit by my swollen stones. I pressed a bit harder while trying to look relaxed and up it sprang, waving from side to side, serpent-like, still growing longer and thicker.

She reached out and smacked my heavy prong sideways. I looked down to see it spring back, bending as it climbed; its head plum colored and its veins thick and ropy. I took the big woman by the shoulders and pulled her to me, turning slightly aside so my root rode her hip and my thigh pressed her mound. I kissed her, and she kissed me back. When she pulled her mouth away, she said, "All right. Relax. Sit down. You hungry?"

With some effort I put my hard rod away, pushing it down my leg and then sat beside her and accepted some cornbread and molasses, thoroughly confused.

"That's quite a trick," she said. "Never seen anybody that could do that."

"Practice," I said.

She laughed. "How long can you stay?"

"Maybe a week, ten days if I'm being useful, killing Redcoats. We are retreating, and I've got a place to be next Monday, orders."

"These women," she said, "the ones you saw out there. They're all victims, all hurt and angry. They've been raped, most of them, driven from their homes, seen their kinfolk killed, all of that."

I studied her as she spoke. Mid-twenties, I guessed, maybe ten stone, a good body and a quick mind. Tough but humorous, an interesting combination. I went back to listening as my eager mast eased a bit, sore.

"No men here," she was saying. "None. I like it that way. We don't take prisoners." She looked up at me, waiting, raising her eyebrows.

I nodded. We seldom did either except when the officers wanted to talk to somebody about something.

"So," she sniffed and held my eyes. "We're getting pretty horny, most of us. You, obviously, came equipped to help us, well armed." She put her hand on my leg and let her forefinger touch my relaxing member which had yet to get completely back to reasonably normal. My cock enjoyed her gentle prodding and jumped a bit.

"How many women?" I asked, taking her hand and holding it gently, wondering how I fell into such good assignments.

"Seventeen now, maybe eighteen tomorrow. A new girl's supposed to be coming in; got a few out fetching her. In a week, you could, let's say, do five a day maybe, four anyhow, and then bed down with me or somebody else at night." She smiled, looking hungry. "Get everybody served at least twice before you had to leave. How about that?"

"Doubt anybody in this here revolution ever had a better offer," I said with a smile. "But I also doubt that I'm up to it." She snorted. "We haven't been eating much lately, you know. I'm kind of worn down."

"Didn't appear that way to me," she said. "Let's have a sample?"

"Ma'am?" I said, and she elbowed me in the gut.

"You say that once more and it will cost you some teeth," she said with a laugh as I pulled her onto my lap and kissed her seriously while a pawed her firm breast and then worked on her buttons. It took a bit of wrestling to get her shirt open and her britches off as we again knelt facing each other, and I never even bothered with mine, just released my pike, but when our bodies came together the only thing she objected to was my heavy belt buckle which was poking her stomach.

I reared up, still firmly encased in her juicy quim, rammed in to where our belly hair was tangled together, leaned back and tore the thing off and tossed it into a corner. Then we got back to work with a cry of pleasure, from both of us I think, my hands on her butt and hers about my waist. The only sounds in that hut were grunts as I eased her to her back and her legs encircled me.

I guess she might have been in some need because it took us quite a while before she sighed, softened under me and gasped out a weak, "Enough, enough. enough" as she unwrapped her legs from about my waist. By then she must have spasmed a half-dozen times, once nearly unhorsing me. She was a good one, deep and exciting, and I hated to stop although my body had been sending me messages for some time. I pulled it out with a sucking slurp, wiped it on my shirt tail, tucked it away, rolled to my back and smiled at the roof of pine boughs. She bent over and kissed me.

"Get that superior look off your ugly face," she said. "I worked as hard as you did."

I grabbed her curly head and kissed her back, tongued her deeply, and then said, "You certainly did. If your soldiers out there want what you just got, I won't live through the week."

She laughed and got her breeches back up over her rounded rump and pulled on her short boots.

"That was damn good," she said, doing her buttons and tucking her shirt. "Can't remember ever doing better or enjoying it more." Her hard nipples showed that she was still excited.

She called a meeting in front of her cabin, introduced me, and said a corporal somebody would be making a list, that I would be using her place for our meaty work and that anybody who did not want to participate should tell the corporal. Then she looked around. I counted fourteen plus the captain, none over thirty years old as far as I could see. They eyed me, looked me up and down, smiled some. I felt a lot of eyes on my bulging codpiece.

"I tried him," she said, "just now. I'd say he's barely adequate, but beggars can't be chosers y'know." The women laughed and my face reddened.

She beckoned to a young woman and then introduced her. "This is Corporal Jason, Meg Jason. Talk with her, figure out a schedule."

The two of us sat on a stump and discussed politely what was intended as if we were talking about stage coaches. The corporal pressed her thigh to mine and stroked my leg absently from time to time with her elbow so I kneaded hers a bit. She smelled of sweat and femaleness. She was a small, pretty girl with a freckled face and a few smallpox scars.

"Be better if you put the older and heftier women down for the before-breakfast swiving," I said. "I'm usually a bit stronger then."

Corporal Jason nodded and licked her lips.

"Then maybe one after breakfast sometime and another before we eat, say around high noon," I said. "All of this, of course, if there's no action, no Redcoats."

She made some rough columns on her slate and wiggled her rump.

"I should be able to do one sometime before dark, say twilight, and then you can give me a bed mate. I'll need, say, two hours between rogerings. But she won't spend the night, whoever it is. I snore something awful."

The corporal laughed. "That's, lemme see, that's five times a day. Think you can do that?"

"I'll try my best," I said, feeling my member tremble with anticipation. I enjoyed talking about it as well as doing it.

"How about right now?" she asked, licking her cracked lips and lifting an eyebrow.

"Come on. I guess its been long enough; feels like it," I said, helping her to her feet and ducking through the low door with her wrist in my hand. She let the cloth door fall closed and came into my arms. We both got our boots and britches off quickly, chuckling now and then at our haste and clumsiness, and then I took her on her knees, with her arms around my waist and my big paws gripping her buttocks. She banged her forehead on my chest when she achieved her first crest as I lunged into her, gritting my teeth in throbbing pleasure.