Chapter 92: Another Mill

It was absolutely one of our best ambushes of the whole retreat. We cut the foraging party down like hay, seven men dead and one dying in less than a minute. The women driving the two big wagons did not even have time to duck for cover before it was all over. While the smoke blew away and my lieutenant finished off the wounded man with a pistol shot, I took note of the women with the reins in their hands. They looked a lot alike, fair-haired and sun burned, poke bonnets and farm dresses, long legs and fully-developed chests, healthy looking, that's what they were.

Each wagon held ten big barrels of flour, white flour, a real treasure in those days. We escorted the women to our camp, got their load into supply wagons while somebody took care of paying them, and then I was given the job of seeing that they got back home safe and sound. I am sure it was a reward for good behavior or some such thing.

It took most of the day to travel to their mill, take care of the animals and eat a cold meal. We talked some, and I found out that neither the Brits nor we rebels had bothered them before, and that they now had royal government requisition forms as well as the paper money we had paid. Neither worth much in my estimation, but they seemed satisfied.

"Hope you can stay the night," the older woman said. Her name was Margaret or Maggie, and I guess she might have been thirty years old, maybe thirty-five. Mature is what she was.

"You run this mill by yourself?" I asked, letting my body get used to the idea.

"No," she said, "my husband is usually here. He's in the city getting his arm taken care of, amputated I expect. Got himself caught in the machinery a week ago."

"Just the three of you then?" I pressed on.

"We had some hired hands," the younger girl said. She was Millie and I was not sure if she was Maggie's daughter or sister at that time, and I would not have guessed her age. She was her daughter and she was sixteen I think. "They ran off."

"How come?" I asked.

"The war," Maggie said, "recruiters were coming around, more like press gangs."

"Hard work, milling," I said. "I've done some."

"Good," said the young one, "then you can stay and help us for a while."

"My lieutenant won't like that much," I said, pondering the idea while enjoying the sight of her eager face with its scattering of freckles and plump cheeks. As usual, I let my member do the thinking.

"Tell him you had to help us," the girl said. "He'll understand. We can pay you in flour."

"Just until your husband gets back," I said to Maggie, my hand on her haunch.

She nodded, smiled and blew out the candle. "Come," she said to me, "my bed's big enough for both of us."

There was enough moonlight to enjoy watching her undress, and I got out of my old clothes quickly and under her quilt even quicker. "Don't usually go around pronging other men's wives," I said, hoping a lightning bolt would not strike me.

She put her mouth on mine and ground her firm body against me. "That so?" she said, when she got her breath. "Well John, that's my man, he ain't been any use in bed for a coon's age, more'n a year. He had a black fever and then, well, he was finished I guess. Can't get it up a'tall, poor fellow."

"Pity," I said, spreading her legs with my knee. "Damn shame."

She put her hands behind my neck and pulled my face to hers, my mouth to hers, and my rigid pole slipped into her effortlessly.

"Umm," she said quietly, "That feels good." She sucked in her breath and arched her back as it sank deeper.

We began very slowly with long and deep thrusts that lifted her from the bed. She wrapped me up in her long legs and gasped out, "More, more, do it harder."

I got up on my elbows and accelerated the pace to marching speed. She matched me with heaves of her own and spasmed wetly well before I pumped out my jism in her. She sighed and collapsed, and I withdrew to lie quietly beside her, wanting more.

"Thank you. That was real good. I need to rest," she whispered in gulps, "been a long day. An' a long time since I done that."

I kissed her ear and rolled out of her bed. I stood, a bit shaky, and a wildcat pounced on me, arms around my neck and legs about my hips. "Thought you'd never get off her," the girl panted after gnawing my mouth and poking her tongue down my throat.

I walked her across the narrow room toward her own bed near the window, my hands filled with her buttocks. She heaved her hips against my belly steadily in an imitation of coitus, and gasped out, "Hurry, can't you hurry. I'm dying for it."

I turned, put my back to the stone wall, lifted her wide hips and got my rampant mast up into her narrow, dripping slit. With some effort and a bit of girlish wiggling, it popped into her tiny hole and began to sink slowly into her tight little cunny.

"Gah," she gasped out as I held her butt and rammed it steadily up into her. "It's too big," she sighed, trying to pull away, pushing my chest with both hands.

I pulled her thighs above my hips one by one and turned to press her shoulders to the wall as I swived her deep and hard, ignoring her protests and struggles as I penetrated a very narrow chasm. I was barely half in her when she climaxed for the first time, lubricating our efforts. I turned again, got my knees on her bed and lowered her to the thin mattress without missing a single beat, somewhat deeper by then. I drove it home, ground our bellies together and got to work, counting cadence in my head.

She rallied and met me thrust for thrust as we galloped to our goal, snorting with effort and spraying my chest with her spittle. After she came again, her body going completely rigid, I rolled us over and rested, still deeply buried in her.

"I'm going to swive you until your stones melt," she whispered as she lay atop me. Then she fell asleep.

The sky was turning pink when I awoke, alone in the girl's bed. I squinted across the room and saw the two women sleeping together in the mother's bed. Guess I was snoring some, I thought, caressing my rampant root. It felt like an ax handle. I rolled out, found my shirt and headed for the privy.

When I returned, the girl was back in her own bed, and her eyes gleamed in the thin light. I was not half as hard as I had been, but I was certainly ready for action. I turned to the mother's bigger bed and heard the girl say, "Damn," behind me. I rolled in beside the woman, turned her toward me and kissed her soft mouth. Her eyes popped open and she smiled.

"Morning," she said. "You sleep well?"

"Um hm," I said, hoisting her hip and probing at her hairy lips with my upright prod. She reached down and got it properly situated and then heaved her hips at me and took it in. "Ah," we both sighed, pushing hard and gritting teeth.

"Spect the girl would like some a'that," the woman whispered, arching her back as I butted into her, spreading the passage before me. On my knees, I rammed and rammed until I came, pumping out my relief while she buried her face in the quilt and moaned.