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Spying Is Hard Work
by Realoldbill (no address provided)

***

Pleasure and profit for a man who enjoys his work - a 
story set in the American Revolution. (MF-cpls, rom, 
historic)

***

"What about your husband?" I asked as she kissed me 
again and pushed me back toward her high bed, her full 
breasts heaving from the top of her silken gown, long 
hair hanging loosely down her back and swaying from 
side to side with each step, her tongue lapping at 
mine, hands clawing my clothes, hips in erotic motion, 
smiling and gasping for breath, dress falling 
completely open.

"What about him?" she sighed, fumbling with the 
buttons of my fore flap, her breath coming in short 
gulps. She looked very determined and terribly 
impatient, and I was more than anxious to be at her.

"Won't he get curious?" I asked, sitting at the side 
of her bed and prying off my boots, her fingers busy 
at her stay laces, my tongue flicking at her rosy 
nipples as they rose to the bait, escaping the lace. 
She was panting and in constant motion, eager to be 
boarded and breeched, practically on fire. I'd never 
seen the like; anxious I understood, inflamed I did 
not.

"He took that black bitch to his room tonight. He'll 
be much too busy." She shucked herself out of her 
expensive bodice, and I tossed it aside as she climbed 
up on my knees, an eager smile on her lovely face, 
long legs widely splayed and bent, moving back and 
forth, her loosened corset still hanging about her 
waist. My prong was iron hard, up and trembling, and 
she was obviously ready for it, eager for it, dying 
for it, drooling in anticipation, her belly heaving 
and her slit dripping and radiating heat, nether lips 
actually reaching for my cockhead, her huge breasts 
lifted high and her fat nipples jutting up for my lips 
and tongue.

She lifted and wiggled so I could pull her heavy skirt 
and silken shift up to her waist, and then she rose 
with her hands on my shoulders and impaled herself, 
smiling but gritting her teeth, eyes closed, the way 
greased, the portal welcoming. 

She sank down on my long mast, rotating her hips 
slightly as she did, screwing herself on, clamping me 
in her over-heated tightness, and I pulled her to me 
and gave her three very hard thrusts, lifting her from 
my thighs and eliciting an lustful cry with each one, 
but seating my ram firmly, well up into her fluttering 
depths, right to my swollen cods. She was hot and wet 
all the way up to her womb, vibrating, undulating, her 
eyes bright, her breath a series of gulps.

She gasped and climaxed at once, spasming hard, quim 
liquefied and quivering as I held my thick rod up, 
fully extended and jumping steadily in its tight 
confines, seeking friction. I bit her bulging nipple 
and she hardly noticed.

When she calmed a bit, we began in earnest, and it 
must have been ten dozen strokes later that she leaned 
forward to mouth my lips, moan, "Harder, harder you 
beast," and enjoyed another wrenching orgasm, clamping 
hard on my striving root. When that passed, soaking us 
both, her juices dripping from my stones, she 
dismounted as one might get off a horse, let her 
skirts slide to the floor, kicked them away and went 
to use a nightjar behind a screen, leaving me eager 
for more, dripping and sore, still fully erect. I 
wiped my stiff cock on her quilt and tried to calm my 
heart and lungs.

Impatient, I rolled out and peeled off of my britches 
and yanked away my shirt, meeting her halfway back to 
her bed, scooping her up, nuzzling her high boobies 
and stuffing her under the quilts. I was right behind 
her and quickly atop her and in her, lifting her legs 
on my arms, spreading her wide. We galloped and 
bounced. 

I filled her and then overfilled her, withdrawing 
until the head was barely between her quivering lips 
and then driving it into her until she squealed and 
shook, pistoning in and squeezing out our fluids as I 
did. When we were done and lay panting at each other, 
she said, "That was wonderful. Aren't you glad you 
took the job?"

"Um," I managed to say, my back feeling broken in 
several places.

"Just think, we can do this almost every night."

"Gah," I suspect I said.

"Now you go on out there and get a good rest," she 
said, pushing on my chest. "I need some sleep."

"Aye," I said, rolling out and looking for my clothes, 
my long prod hanging limply, hot and sore, my knees 
like jelly, my ballocks emptied, my brain fuzzy.

She was snoring by the time I closed the door behind 
me.

I tip-toed to the top of the stairs and was about to 
start down when a young woman appeared at my side, 
silent as a ghost. She was black as ink and buck 
naked, her simple dress in her hand.

"Yes sir," she said, taking my hand. "Hard work, was 
it?"

She quietly led me up the back stairs and to her cot, 
a very narrow one in a room with three other, similar 
cots. She helped me strip off my shirt and urged me to 
lie down. Then she climbed atop me, perched on my 
thighs and with her fingers, lips and tongue, brought 
my flabby member back to life.

Once mounted and settled in the saddle, she let 
herself down on me and nestled her head on my chest.

"You're powerful big," she whispered. "That man, the 
one she wed, he ain' nothin'. Can' do it a'tall, poor 
ol' man."

"Pity," I allowed as she rocked on me, massaging me 
within her.

"How's his lady?" she asked my ear as her hips began 
to move with mine, her small breasts rubbing up and 
down my ribs.

"Healthy," I said, much too busy for conversation.

"This house used t'have a butler," she said between 
gasps. "Ole man sole him when he found out he was 
horsing us."

She rose and bounced happily as we neared our peaks, 
and then she came, spasming hard and whimpering 
softly. She fell atop me, gushing fluids. I failed and 
softened within her, disappointed but not surprised.

"Ma don' need no man, but m'sister does," she said. 
"Reckon y'got enough lef' for Dora?"

"Tomorrow," I said, getting my feet on the floor, 
wasted and sore.

"Aw'ri," she said. "Hole y't'that."

I slept awful well that night, but awoke with a young 
black girl crawling under my blanket.

"I'se Dora," she said as she found my huge, aching 
wand. "Leesa's a'waitin' down there. This here's 
enough f'bof'a'us."

They were both small, young women, and I had plenty to 
satisfy them with that early morning. When we sat at 
breakfast, the table was nearly all smiles.

After doing some of my nominal chores, I adjourned to 
the lady's bedchamber for a pre-supper engagement. She 
met me wearing a fancy robe she had not bothered to 
cinch. I quickly flipped out my fast-heating prong, 
stepped between her wide-spread legs, lifted her at 
the hips and placed her on my straining pike, ignoring 
her protests and her surprised look as I pushed her 
across the room with her toes barely reaching for the 
floor. 

She leaned back against my grip and gasped as she took 
it all at once, her feet crossed just below my rump. I 
pushed her to the wall and brought her to a squealing 
climax in quick-march time and then disengaged, 
holding her so she would not collapse, my prong still 
thick and upright.

"I need to see his papers, the ones he brings on 
Friday," I told her.

"How did you know about that?" she asked, stumbling to 
her bedside. I followed, admiring my jumping spear, 
proud of it. I gripped it, and it nearly filled my big 
paw, its head glistening.

"We have a man in his office, a workman who cleans the 
place," I told her which was all I could think of 
since in truth it had been a male prostitute that 
tipped us off.

She sat, her robe about her elbows, and put her heels 
on the side of her bedstead. I stepped between her 
knees, and she looked down at what I had in my hand.

"Yes," she sighed, as I brought its blue-red head to 
her curly muff, "yes, do it again." The long shaft 
with thick with veins trembled.

"The papers," I said, rubbing the big mushroom head up 
and down her warm, wet slit, spreading the hairy 
thatch and stimulating her to whimpering moans.

"We are going out his evening," she sighed, scratching 
my ridged shaft with her long nails. "I'll make sure 
they are available. Now do it!"

I did it, holding her hips and thrusting my thick ram 
into her as she rolled her pelvis up to make it 
easier. She closed her eyes and smiled as I gave her 
fifty or so good, long, hard ones, grunting with 
effort, straining my thighs and buttocks, bending my 
back. As I neared my climax, my stones surging, she 
came again, her body tensing and her nether lips 
quaking about my striving root. 

Then I exploded, three times, and she fell back across 
her counterpane, arms wide spread as the third shot 
sprayed out across her belly and upright boobs. She 
might have been in her mid-forties, but she had plenty 
of life left in her.

I stepped back, dragging out strings of jism, wiped my 
thick pole on her fancy robe, put it away, and went 
down to my well-earned meal.

That night, after they had left in their fancy 
carriage, I went to the laird's chamber and found, as 
promised, his lockbox of weekend work open on his 
desk. I sat, secured paper and pen, and got to work, 
copying out every item that appeared to be of any 
value. I had been at it for an hour or so when I 
became aware that I was being watched.

I spun about with my big bayonet in my hand and faced 
a lovely young woman in a very low-cut, flower-
patterned dress with a white collar and a mile of 
elbow lace. Her swelling chest rose and fell freely, 
no stays I concluded, and she was looking amused. I 
was immediately aroused.

"I wondered about the light," she said. "So I peeked 
in. Where's my step-father?"

"Gone with your mother to a soiree of some sort," I 
said, sliding my knife back into its scabbard while my 
eyes stripped her ripe body.

"And who are you?" she asked, coming to look over my 
shoulder. "And what are you doing?"

"I am a thief," I said, reaching back to stroke her 
long leg. "And I am stealing." I stroked upward to her 
thigh.

"You are surely a big one," she said quietly, bending 
to kiss my cheek. "And you need to shave."

"And who are you?" I asked, getting to my work and 
being careful to put things back in order.

"Nancy," she said. "I think you have met my mother. I 
was out visiting a friend."

"Yes," I said, writing while I talked and noting that 
she smelled very good, "your mother has been most 
kind, very helpful."

"She left me a note telling me to avoid you."

I chuckled and flipped over another paper, aware of 
the sexual smell of the girl standing just behind me. 
Musk I labeled it.

"How long is this going to take?" she asked.

"A while," I said, feeling my root harden as if it had 
sniffed out a female.

She took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "I 
am going to my bed. I have a novel to read. It's the 
second room down the hall. You'll see the light." She 
spun about and hurried away, leaving behind just the 
odor of spring flowers and wet cunny.

An hour or so later, I gathered up my foolscap, put 
things back as they had been, wiped the pen, capped 
the inkwell, and left, ready for well-earned rest, not 
even tumescent any longer.

The light under the second door reminded me of the 
girl. My cock quivered, the fool. I knocked, entered, 
set my work aside and crossed the small room in two 
steps. She put her book down and looked up at me.

"Well," she said. "All done?"

"With that," I said.

"You're a rebel?"

I nodded, removing my belt and heavy blade and putting 
them on a chair at the bedside, aware of my bulging 
codpiece.

"So are we, mother and I," she said, licking her lips.

I sat on the side of her bed and pulled off my boots.

"Don't you have a bed?" she asked.

"In the loft," I said, unbuttoning my waist.

"Poor man," she said as I stood and got out of my 
britches, tossing them on the chair.

She turned down her lamp and tossed back her quilt. 
Then she gathered her nightgown up in both hands and 
pulled it over her head. Her body was a heart-stopper, 
a virtual succubus that hardened me to steel. She 
threw her filmy gown atop my pants, and I deposited my 
shirt on it and got into her bed, pulling up the 
covers and turning to face her. 

Our mouths met. My phallus probed, butted, pushed and, 
with her help, pried her open. Then it sank slowly up 
into her, drawn deeper by her frequent contractions, 
each of which was accompanied by a gasp and then a 
moan. Deeper and deeper I sank it, well past a stiff 
constriction. She writhed and sobbed, tongue tip 
showing, her body a'tremble.

After the first time, which was very brisk and perhaps 
a bit noisy, we slowed the pace and set about to enjoy 
each other. I soon found that she much preferred to be 
on top and that she was an accomplished horsewoman 
with good hands and strong thighs. I was glad she had 
no whip as she smacked my flank with her hand, urging 
me on, knees in my ribs.

"Oh, oh, oh," she cried as she rocked back and forth 
on my belly, bringing my thick member three or four 
inches in and out of her each time she did and 
evidently stimulating her severely as my pubic bone 
crushed her fuzzy mound. I reached up and cupped her 
firm young breasts, squeezing out her small, hard 
nipples between my fingers. 

"Oh, oh, my lord, my lord, ahh," she gasped as she 
quickened her pace and shortened her strokes, tongue 
tucked into a corner of her mouth. Spittle ran off her 
chin and she licked her pouting lips as she gasped 
with effort, smacking us together, posting like a mad 
thing.

I slipped my hands down to hold her hips as I felt her 
near another climax, and she came, shivering and 
shaking, teeth clamped, her breath in ragged bursts, 
breasts jutting out for my mouth to savor as we both 
arched.

She fell down on my chest, her curly head just beneath 
my chin, mewling, "How could you, how could you?"

I kept right on thrusting, hoping against experience 
that I could come again and encouraged by her tight 
cunny and her luscious body that lay trembling in my 
arms. Her skin was wondrously smooth and warmly 
heated, her buttocks were rounded and quivering. I 
probed her anus and she whispered, "Don't" so I did 
not go very deep.

"I've never," she gasped, moving her knees in time 
with my now-frantic but futile efforts, "I've never 
had more than one orgasm, never, never." She rocked 
from side to side, grinding her belly into mine. "How 
can you do that?" I simply held her ass cheeks and 
enjoyed her sinuous depths, probing her crack with my 
fingers, touching her delicate anus once more. She 
whinnied and shivered. "I'm dying,' she sobbed.

Nearly exhausted but giving in to pride, I rolled her 
over, rose on my extended arms and gave her what 
little I had left while she undulated beneath me, 
looking very happy. She shook her head from side to 
side and spread her legs impossibly wide as I finally 
managed to stiffen, swell and spurt once more, just 
once but with great satisfaction and pleasure as well 
as some pain, before I let myself down on her and 
rolled us to our sides.

"You," she cried, "are," she moaned, "a" she gasped, 
"beast" she sobbed, beating me with her fists and then 
kissing my mouth and face. "A beast, a beast."

Spent, my proud pintel slipped from her noodle-like, 
followed by a flow of thick liquids.

"Before tonight," she whispered, cuddling nearer, 
"I've only known three men, no, four. My uncle, who is 
about my age, my..."

I stopped her with a kiss. "Not my business," I said. 
"You really shouldn't kiss and tell."

"But, but," she moaned, "I didn't know, I never 
knew... I mean, none of them..."

I patted her and kissed her forehead. "Your mother 
warned you," I said quietly.

"Have you had her?" she asked, leaning away to look at 
me as her knee prodded my shrunken stones.

"Gentlemen never tell such things about a lady," I 
said, sounding like a simp of some sort.

"Hah," she cried. "What a lie. I just kissed a boy at 
a dance and put my hand on his thing and before the 
party was over, everyone knew and was looking at me. I 
became very popular for a week or so." She giggled.

"That may be," I said, after nibbling on her ear lobe, 
"but he was no gentleman."

She nodded. "I'll be so sore tomorrow."

I was ready to quit, but she was wiggling in my arms 
and her hand now held what was left of my long, thick 
shaft. So very soon it was once more into the breach, 
but not for England of course, and away we galloped to 
the music of the straining rope knots beneath us. I 
enjoyed it when she posted again, hair flailing about 
madly.

I slept in the loft and was surprised to receive no 
visitors in the gray of morning. I was surely prepared 
for them. At breakfast the serving girls told me that 
they had quite enough of my iron-clad loving, giggling 
behind their hands. So well rested and well fed, I 
went up to bid farewell to the lady of the house and 
met her young and sparkling daughter on the stairs.

"Hope to see you again," I told her after a brotherly 
kiss, my hand cupping her firm breast.

She sniffed, lifted her chin and went on her way, 
pulling up her dress.

Her mother was just rising, standing at her widow and 
stretching, an admirable sight. I kissed her, hugged 
her, pushed her back to her bed and boarded her, rode 
her until she cried for quarter, and then went back to 
the damned war.

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 76