Chapter 43: Rodney

In April, I had an interesting experience with an officer's wife and one of her sons. She was Angela McG-- and he was her oldest, Rodney, a good-sized lad of sixteen, fuzz-faced, long-legged, gawky and eager to get into the fight. He wanted to join the army like his quartermaster father, and she did not want him to. Captain Foster sent me to see her, and I am not sure whether or not he thought he was doing me or her a favor.

She was a healthy and handsome woman in her mid-thirties. She had a quick smile and, with the help of two servants, was doing a good job of raising four very active young ones as far as I could tell. Her husband was seldom home, evidently. She told me that when we first met, and after I spent several nights in her bed, I became reasonably sure of it.

She explained her worries to me, and I took Rodney aside and talked with him while we walked though the greening New Jersey fields behind their commandeered home. He demonstrated that he was a decent shot with a fowling piece, and he did not choke on the white lightening I surprised him with from my canteen. He could swear a bit, and chew tobacco without turning green.

I told his mother most of what we had done, as we cuddled in her wonderfully deep mattress and absolutely noiseless bed waiting for our exhausted bodies to rejuvenate so we could tire each other again. I told her that I thought he was old enough to serve and knew enough to survive.

"But he's a virgin, I'm sure," she said, with my worn rod in her strong hand. "What'll happen to him? I know about those Morristown hutments and the wild girls you have out there in the hills."

I lay waiting for my prod to rise. I was trying to remember my first time. I knew it was behind the barn back in Frederick, but I could not remember the girl. She was probably right about the women who eked out a living by screwing Washington's fading army. They'd have stolen everything but his eye teeth and left him poxed and lame.

"Well," she said, stretching and pulling the blanket up to her shoulder, "they'll make fun of him and take advantage of him, won't they. He knows nothing about women despite having three younger sisters."

"I guess I could remedy that," I said very quietly. We had learned to enjoy ourselves almost silently after waking one of the girls the first time Felicity reached a shuddering climax in my arms. Now I rogered her to mutual satisfaction, and then I quietly went back to my own cot near the recruiting office instead of staying the night and waiting for a morning cockstand to greet her with.

"How?" she asked, turning toward me and throwing a muscular leg over mine, finding my mouth with hers and thrusting in her tongue.

"I'll take him to one of the better houses in town. Have one or two of the girls introduce him to the rigors of manly duties." I slid back into her effortlessly. She sucked in her breath and quivered all over. She had brought me to her bed as quickly as any woman I'd ever met, and was one of the few I've bedded who never complained about my equipment or her needs. She just loved to do it.

"Ah," she sighed in my ear, drawing me deeper, "such difficult things you poor men must do. Ah yes, right there. Yes, there, fool. Keep your mind on your work."

"Yes indeed," I moaned as the pace increased and her desire mounted and crested, "we must do what women want. Never satisfied, are you?" I drove deeper and arched my back. She slowed the pace and clamped me tight, delaying her orgasm. I was far past the point of coming again.

"All right," she said. "But just plain swiving, nothing fancy." She rolled atop me and began another round of quick-paced heaves that I failed to meet. "Come, come," she demanded through gritting teeth, "up, up, rouse yourself you lazy cur." I grabbed her wide hips and did my best.

The next time Rodney and I had one of our talks, I brought up the subject of women. He admitted to having some rather strange feelings, a lot of curiosity and some embarrassing erections from time to time and said he had bundled with a few local girls and that one had slipped her hand down his breeches and stroked him to ejaculation.

"Did you like it?" I asked.

"Oh, yes," said the boy. "But it was a bit messy. She does that to everybody."

"I'm concerned that women may take advantage of you when you are away from home, in the army. It may even worry your mother some. I thought that the Hessians would concern her, but she seems more worried about camp-following girls for some reason."