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don't remove the author information or make any changes
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Sordid Affairs
by Realoldbill (no address provided)

***

A rebel comes to the aid of a damsel in very great 
distress. And to her mother's and sister's as well. 
(MFff, v, 1st)

***

"I'm cold," the girl said clearly from the other side 
of our small fire. She was lying close to the ring of 
stones and making herself very small. "Can't I come 
over there?"

"If you must," I said, pulling my blanket loose. She 
crawled to me with her old quilt about her shoulders 
and a victorious smile on her lovely face. She tossed 
her hair aside and cuddled at my back. We got the 
covers tucked in, and I said, "Now sleep."

"Um," she said, nuzzling my spine. Her lean arm snaked 
over my ribs and her hand slid down my belly. I 
grabbed it and pushed it behind me. "You're mean," she 
said, pouting I was sure.

"Sleep, girl," I said. She was only fifteen or so and 
a virgin I was sure.

She wiggled and her hand crept over my hip and went 
directly to my flaccid member. I had opened my waist 
to get comfortable so it was not very hard to find.

"Oh," she said behind me, and she stroked my swelling 
prick gently. "I've held boys' things sometimes, 
but..." She stopped and sniffed as my prod got harder. 
"It's hot. And it's awful big."

"Why don't you leave it alone and go to sleep," I 
said, pulling her hand away from my quivering manhood.

"All right," she said. "I wouldn't want that thing in 
me."

"Good. Sleep," I said again.

"But wait until you meet my sister."

I pretended to be asleep.

"She really needs you, poor girl."

I faked some snoring.

"She's a widow," the girl said, pushing her apple-hard 
little breasts against my back. "And she's only 
nineteen."

"Go to sleep," I insisted, reaching back to pat her 
flank.

Encouraged, her hand snaked back to my prod and then 
down to fondle my ballocks. "Lord," she sighed, 
"they're big as goose eggs."

That was the last I remembered until the morning when 
I managed to get out of the blankets and creep off 
into the woods to relieve myself and take the starch 
out of my raging erection, smacking it down with some 
pleasure. I was tempted to beat the thing against a 
tree, but it finally relaxed, and I put it away and 
went back to the sleeping girl, built up the fire a 
bit and roused her. She sat up and yawned, as pretty a 
sight as you can imagine, stimulating my foul prick to 
several dry spasms.

I fried a couple of pieces of meat in the flames and 
gave her one. We were soon back on the road and by the 
time the sun was high, at her home. She jumped from 
the light carriage and ran into the house, leaving me 
to see to the horses and chattels.

Her sister, dressed all in black, was also a beauty, 
but a sad-faced one. "You've come at a terrible time," 
she said, holding my hand and looking deeply into my 
eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said.

'Oh, it's not me; I'm used to the idea of James being 
dead now, it's our mother." She sniffed and her sister 
looked surprised.

"She married him," the young woman said to her younger 
sister. "Just as we feared."

"I can't believe it," the youngster said.

"I think she was drugged," the girl in black said, 
releasing my hand. "He's some sort of monster."

Because I looked puzzled, she explained that her long-
widowed mother had wed a very important Tory and gone 
to live in the city, leaving this young widow to run 
the family's farm. Both girls feared and despised 
their new step-father, evidently with good reason 
since he had tried to seduce them both and had plied 
the younger girl with liquor until she passed out and 
lay in her own vomit.

We ate and the lovely widow took me to her bed, eager 
as sin. We enjoyed each other thoroughly, and then she 
sobbed in my arms, fearful for her mother and her own 
fate with about six inches of my manhood trapped in 
her cloying depths. We slept, and in the morning, I 
skewered her on my monstrous prod, my gift from the 
gods of lust, and we were well into our third or 
fourth coupling when her sister ran into the room. 

She looked at the young woman riding my loins, made a 
face and then cried, "They're here. Get dressed 
quickly." She ran out. The woman rocking on my belly 
smiled down at me, gritted her teeth, bucked hard and 
came once more before rolling off and leaving me with 
my slimy cock in my hand, still wanting more.

"Stay here and be quiet," she said to me as she left 
in a fluffy morning dress. I lay back, my prod still 
fat and hard on my belly enjoying the after-glowing 
memory of her bouncing breasts with their inch-long 
tits and shilling-sized circles.

Five minutes later, there was a screech from below, 
and I jumped to my feet and ran into the hall. The 
younger girl was flying up the steps with a young 
Redcoat subaltern in hot pursuit. She scurried behind 
me and I floored him with a punch, throttled him and 
when he was limp and his head could flop loosely from 
side to side, found her on the bed I had just left, 
sobbing.

"Go help Susie," she cried. "Help her, help her!"

I found my boots and bayonet and galloped down the 
stairs and into the parlor where two men, one a gold-
trimmed Redcoat and the other a puffing man with a 
fancy wig, were tearing the girl's clothes from her 
lean body and pawing her relentlessly. I tossed the 
officer aside, cuffed the lecherous civilian and 
hugged the distraught girl to me. The big British 
officer scrambled to his feet and made to draw his 
sword so I showed him my bayonet and disarmed him.

"What's going on?" I demanded as the younger girl came 
to comfort her nearly naked sister.

"This man," the youngster said, pointing at the fellow 
in mufti, "is our new stepfather, and he has sold us 
into slavery."

"Nonsense," said the man, wiping blood from his mouth 
and easing himself into a chair. "They didn't 
understand."

"Just so," said the officer, "we jus' wanted these two 
to serve some of the King's officers, lady-like you 
understand, no more than four or five a day."

"Whores?" I said, "That what you mean?"

"In a way," the captain said, wrinkling his forehead, 
"Mr. Charles there said they were both friskers."

"It's a lie," I told him. "A damnable lie."

"They're rebels," said the man in the chair, his face 
turning red, "same thing, not worth tuppence."

"Where's their mother?" I demanded of him.

He smiled. "Likely on her back under a colonel or 
major, doing her bit for the cause."

I hit him in the face with the hilt of my big knife in 
my hand, knocking over the chair and crushing his 
nose. He lay on the floor mewling and spitting out 
broken teeth.

"Go get dressed to travel," I told the two girls. 
"We'll go and fetch her." I turned to the shaken 
officer. "Where is she?"

He told me and I sent him to fetch his aide's body and 
then turned my attention to the man on the floor, 
dripping blood into the rug. I dragged him out the 
front door and around to the horse trough. I kicked 
him to his knees and pushed his head under the water, 
holding it there for a minute or so. 

I pulled him up, let him sputter and beg, and then 
held him under until he stopped squirming and making 
bubbles. I left his body there with his head, arms and 
shoulders in the water and went back in the house. I 
took his purse, of course, a good, heavy one.

I helped the officer get the dead young man into the 
carriage and then asked him if he wanted to live. He 
nodded so I got him to swear to leave this family 
alone and sent him on his way after making sure I 
understood where the girl's mother was being held.

I soon got the girls into their carriage and drove 
into the city, pulling into the courtyard of a stately 
home. It was still early in the day so I did not 
expect much trade. The girls and I went right in the 
front door, and I sent them up the stairs to find 
their mother while I locked the harridan who ran the 
place and a young officer with his britches in his 
hand in the cellar. 

The distraught woman soon appeared with her grown 
children, told me that there were two other ladies 
being held against their will, and we quickly got all 
five stuffed into the rig and hurried north.

We dropped off the other two where they asked and when 
we got back to the house we had left, I let the woman 
discover the man she had married lying chest deep in 
the horse trough.

She dragged him out and looked down at his white and 
distorted face. "He drugged me," she said calmly, 
"laudanum. It was my fault, at least in part."

"What shall we do with him?" asked the older daughter.

"Call the authorities," I said. "You can see that the 
poor man must have tripped and fallen. Look at his 
nose. Knocked himself out and drowned I suppose."

I went back to the war, glad to find a situation I 
understood.

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 77