Chapter 93: Senseless Violence

The luscious young woman was seated between two fops well back in the corner of a smoky tavern. I had watched them for a while and decided that she was in some trouble. My memory told me that I had seen this all before. The light was dim but the lantern above them showed the tops of her high, firm breasts which lay in a gown so low cut as to be nearly without bodice.

I sat down by a macaroni wearing an embroidered waistcoat over his bulging belly. "Miss," I said, "May I be of service?"

"If you please," she said sweetly, pulling up her dress with her thumbs, "These gentlemen have worn out heir welcome."

"I say," croaked the one nearest me, "really Deborah, that is crude."

"It's not your business," said the one sitting across from me who, I quickly decided, was the son of the fat one. He sneered at me. "You infernal mechanics don't know your place."

I stood out in the aisle and gestured.

"Go to hell," cried the slim young man.

I grabbed him by the back of his coat collar and yanked him to his feet. The older man cried, "Wait. We are leaving, Isaac. It is what she wants."

I nodded to him and he took his son's elbow and led him toward the front door. "You shall pay for this, you interloper," the younger man cried.

I sat down and smiled at the girl, waving at a serving girl. "Care for a beer?" I asked.

"Cider, please," she said, "and thank you. They were boring."

I introduced myself and she said she was Deborah Miller from down near Philadelphia. "I was to marry that young one, but I've decided against it."

I sat back and drank my beer and admired her posture and her lovely face and long, dark hair.

"I've been married," she said, "I know some of the problems."

"Widow?" I asked.

"Probably. Let's say lost at sea. Been gone more than a year. I had a court declare him dead." She smiled. "The judge was most accommodating. It usually takes longer but since there was no estate, no other kin." She shrugged and then pulled up her dress again, frowning. "I made a mistake with this gown. It won't stay up."

"Makes for a scenic view," I said.

She laughed, jiggling her jugs and kicked at me under the table.

"What now?" I asked. "Do you want something to eat?"

She shook her curls. "Back to Germantown on the stage. But I've a room here until tomorrow if you are interested."

That stopped me. "Interested?" I said, reaching across the small table to push her dress a bit lower in front with a poking finger between her full melons.

"Um," she said, sitting up very straight so her boobs jutted out, more pear shaped than round, the tops of her nipples nearly purple in the faint light. "I need a man, need to be, how do they say, to be refreshed. I thought that rich young man, Phillip, might do but he is worthless in bed."

"So you tried him out?" I asked.

"Um," she said, drinking her cider. "And his father as well. He was even worse, spurted before he was well in."

"Tsk, tsk," I said, rapidly hardening. "Some men are in such a hurry."

"You would have thought he had never seen a naked woman," she said.

"Probably hadn't," I said.

She nodded her head from side to side and grinned. "I think I frightened them both."

"Sure you don't need something to eat?" I asked.

"No," she said, "that's not what I need. Come." She stood, displaying her fine ass, and we quickly mounted the stairs, entered her room, locked the door and joined our mouths.

"Now," she said, tossing her dress aside after wiggling it down to her feet and kicking it away, "you'll have to help me with my damn stays. My maid did them this morning, and I didn't bother to doff them for those two."

Sans boots and britches, excited but not fully aroused, I unlaced her, and she pulled her corset around in front of her, looked down between jutting breasts and finished the job. "Hate the things," she said, tossing her fancy corset aside. She sat on the big bed, peeling off her stocking and then pulled her shift over her head, and I came around to face her, bare as she was.

"By damn, sir," she said, looking up at me as I raked back her hair with both hands, "but you are a hairy one. And what is this?" She reached out and grabbed my prong with both hands, stroking it gently as it rose happily under her ministrations. She pushed it down and then bent forward and brought it to her tongue, licked its spongy head and then felt at my stones. "I think you are well prepared," she said, releasing me and rolling back on the quilts, spreading herself open and waiting.

I pounced on her and she cried, "Slowly," as I plummeted into her. After a very slow beginning we quickly moved to full-blooded swiving of the most vigorous kind, bouncing off the bed and rocking from side to side. She came first, crying out over and over, but I was soon at my pinnacle and filled her with my jism.

I rolled us over, still imbedded in her lengthy and pulsing grip, as I waited to recover my strength. She put her head on my chest and moaned happily. "I'll bet I've had a hundred men, at least a hundred, since I was twelve," she said softly, seemingly to herself.

"I'm not a bit surprised," I said, patting her firm rump. She might have been oft-used, but she was tight and sinuous, caressing on the insertions and gripping on the withdrawals.

"You might not be the best, oh hairy one," she sighed, "but I am sure you are the biggest. And I can feel that heavy thing swelling inside me right now."

She pushed herself upright, wriggled to get a firm seat, and then rode me while I played with her bouncing breasts. At one point I was holding both nipples firmly while her boobs jolted up and down behind them. She liked that.

She enjoyed a series of small but interesting climaxes, and I held her hips tightly as I neared my own and then, despite my best efforts, cried out with pleasure when I came, and we collapsed side by side, both of us puffing like hard-ridden horses.