Chapter 91: Wounded

I was bent low when the shot burned my thigh and hit my poor horse. She stumbled, dumped me in the frigid stream, got to her feet and limped away after scrambling up the far bank. By then I had rolled over several times, failed to grasp a tree root and was in the swift-flowing main stream. I pulled off my soggy boots and thrashed about, trying not to swallow too much water and then I rammed head first into a boulder and knocked myself silly.

I awoke with two people pulling on my arms and my face buried in the mud. I managed to dig in my knee and toes and help get myself out of the water.

"Lordy," said a girlish voice to my left. "We weighs a ton. Look at the size of him."

"Least he isn't dead," said an equally-female voice on my right. A hand fumbled at my waist. "And he's got a decent purse."

I rolled over, rubbed the dirt from my eyes and said, "I'm freezing." I'm sure my teeth were chattering and my stones frozen solid.

"He talks, English more or less," said the girl on my right, pushing her long hair from her face.

"Let's get him up to the house," said the other one. "Can you stand?"

"Maybe," I managed, slipping and sliding. They helped and I got my feet under me, aware that my thigh hurt like hell. I put my arm about the shoulders of the girl on my right, and she looked up at me, worried. We stumbled along to a small, log house and they helped me toward the fireplace and onto a straight-backed chair. While one built up the fire, the other unbuckled my heavy belt and set my bayonet aside.

"You a soldier?" she asked, gabbing my shirt and tugging.

I nodded, lifted my arms and she stripped it from me.

"No boots?" she said. "Lets get them britches off."

I unbuttoned, raised up and she pulled, one leg and then the other. She wrung out the clothes on the stone hearth and then hung them beside the fire. The other girl fetched me a worn blanket, and I wrapped it around my shoulders and let it flop in my lap. I shivered and felt awful, waterlogged and half-frozen. I looked down at my right thigh and saw that the ball had torn a gouge four or five inches long that looked very nasty but was not bleeding much, more a long bruise that a cut.

"Try this," the older of the two said, handing me a cup of something that smelled of pork, bean soup I suppose, thick and hot. I looked up into her dark eyes and smiled.

"I'm Lucy," she said. "That's Essie." She nodded toward her sister. I guessed she was eighteen or so and her sister about sixteen, maybe less. Both young women were slim and clear-skinned, pretty girls by anyone's standards as most young women that age are.

The younger one noticed my injured leg and came to squat beside me, put her hand on my hairy thigh and examined it carefully. "Not too bad," she concluded. "He's awful cold. Let's get him in bed."

With the girls' help, I stumbled to the only bed in the one-room cabin and tumbled in, feeling exhausted and fortunate. They covered me up and then Essie, the younger one, stripped off her clothes without another word and crawled in beside me, hugging me as best she could and putting her warm body against my half-frozen one.

She got her knee over my legs, and rubbed her soft mound against my hip, her breasts on my ribs and held me tight, her head on my chest and shoulder as I lay flat on my back. "How that feel?" she asked.

"Grand," I chattered, feeling her smooth skin.

I put my hand on her rounded rump and enjoyed the feeling, warming quickly. A minute or two later, Lucy, as bare as her sister, was climbing to my left side, saying across my chest, "Be careful of his leg. I'm sure it hurts."

Her small hand crawled down my belly and plowed through my hair to find the wide base of my shriveled member. She cupped it and my hard scrotum in her hand and nuzzled my chest.

"That feels awful good," I said.

"Thought it might," she said, wriggling still closer as my hand pulled her to me, stroking her smooth back.

"You two live alone?" I asked, a naked girl in each arm.

"Um," they both said. "Sort of," said the younger girl. "She's married but he ran away a month or so ago. Recruiters were out scouring the area."

"Redcoats?" I asked, feeling my member, which had shrunk to the size of my thumb in the creek, begin to tremble in the girl's warm grip and outgrow her hand.

"Um um," Essie said, raising her knee to her sister's hand at my groin. "Militia." She pressed gently, and my prong responded, jumping free.

"So he's a rebel, your husband?" I asked as she continued to hold my frozen stones, gently moving them about in their wrinkled sac.

She chuckled and began stroking my swelling rod. "He's nothing, just a coward, pretty but useless."

"She made a dumb mistake," said her sister wiggling. "I think he's warming up."

"I'm sure he is," said Lucy, her thumb and forefinger circling my cock and drawing the foreskin to and fro. "Can I get on without hurting you?" she asked, her lips at my ear. "I'm sure I can warm you more that way; get your blood coursing."

She rolled atop me and her younger sister made room for her as she rose above my hardening prod, her hand still on it. I heard her inhale and then she lowered herself slowly on the long spear, rotating right and left as it sank up into her. "Gah," she gulped as she settled on my groin with her knees up in my lower ribs. "How's that?"