"Dearest. Oh, dearest. Please, we must be quiet. The servants will hear."

"Mrs. Robinson, you know you bring the passion out in me. My love, just feel my need for you this fair night."

With that he began thrusting deeper into his wife's treasure, and grunted with exertion as they played their game of love. He did adore his lady. Ever since he had met her in Boston, and married her. Sarah Tappen Doolittle was above him in class, but she had deigned to accept his courtship. Now they were married and they were settled in Lawrence, Kansas.

Both were covered in their sleepwear, but they managed to make love, exposing the necessary parts, as they fucked now with abandon. They forgot the war that consumed their lives, along with the rest of the nation. They simply needed to fill their lustful need. So Charles Robinson was fucking his dearest love, and she could not help but cry out as he lifted her legs to his shoulders and filled her pussy with hardness.

When he felt his seed begin to spill out into his wife he leaned down to kiss her. It didn't actually occur to him to note whether she had been fulfilled as well. He pulled his now softening member out and rolled over. Sarah quietly touched herself and was able to bring herself to a pleasing end, while he began to snore.

The town of Lawrence, Kansas had been established by the New England Emigrant Aid Company, with the help of Charles Robinson, in 1854. It was intended to be a force in the cause of creating a free state in Kansas. In 1860 it was estimated that the town had some 2,500 people.

Robinson was a medical doctor. He had developed a successful practice back East but before the war had started he and his family had moved to Kansas to be part of the settlement of a free state. They had been successful and Kansas entered the union as a free state, while Missouri, across the border remained a slave state. During the years leading up to the war there had been numerous raids by Jayhawkers into Missouri, and the revenge guerrilla attacks by the bushwhackers into Kansas. Not for nothing was it known as Bleeding Kansas.

In 1861 he became the first governor of the State of Kansas, after having served illegally in that capacity in the years previous. Then, his rival, James Lane, had caused him to be impeached. He had the dubious honor of being the first governor of a state in the United States to be impeached. The charges had not stuck, but he was no longer governor. He left office in January of this year, 1863, and was now living quietly awaiting the outcome of the war.

Just a few blocks away James Henry Lane was sitting on the edge of his bed. The senator for the State of Kansas was being fellated by his wife Mary. She had never cared for the act, but she tried to please her husband. He was so often depressed. Ever since the raid and massacre in Osceola he had been rather morose, knowing that there was a bounty out for his head among the bushwhackers and guerrillas across the border in Missouri.

In 1862 he had recruited the first negro troops in the war, even before the 54th Massachusetts. The 1st Regiment Kansas Volunteer Troops (Colored) had acquitted themselves nobly against a larger contingent of Confederate guerrillas in their first action.

But now he was groaning as he pumped his rather small member into his wife's mouth. She was attempting to make him expel his seed as quickly as possible. She loved her husband but she never cared for this wifely duty. He grabbed her hair and eagerly humped until he finally sent a spurt of semen out. She pointed his prick at the floor and stroked him until he had completely drained his cream. He sighed, arose, and laid down on the bed they shared. She silently cleaned up the mess he had created.

It was the early hours of the morning when the shooting started, bringing all in the town of Lawrence to attention. Everyone rolled out of their beds and quickly dressed. There had been no alarm. In months earlier there had been a group of young men assigned to be on the look out for just such a raid, but they had become complacent. They would now regret this laxity. The killing was beginning and the fires were being set.

Sarah was up in good order, and her husband and servants were alerted to the danger. She thought rapidly and then sent her husband, Charles, to hide in a well just beyond their large home. She knew that bushwhackers would want to catch her husband. She didn't know what their plans were, but she knew they were murderous savages. Her servants were sent to reconnoiter.

Mary Lane was also up and about. Her husband, James, had been a Brigadier General for the Union forces recently. She knew that he was one that the raiders were certainly searching for. They were after revenge for Osceola, as well as for the death and maiming of the captive ladies in Kansas City.

There had been an order by Union General Thomas Ewing that civilian supporters of the bushwhackers of Missouri be detained. In this instance there were several women placed into a makeshift jail at the home of George Caleb Bingham, the famous painter, and the building had collapsed. One sister of "Bloody" Bill Anderson was killed and another sister was handicapped.

William Anderson was a member of Quantrill's guerrilla group.

He devoted himself to revenge after this unfortunate occurrence. He did what he could to convince his leader, William Quantrill, to commit to an act of vengeance against the city of Lawrence, where James Lane was living. Perhaps Quantrill had been planning the raid before this. In any case the raid was now occurring. They had ridden into town secretly, and from Mount Oread they rode down and began the killing and plundering.

While the raiders were searching out all of the men and boys in the town the ladies were attempting to hide their menfolk. James Lane was able to escape by running into a cornfield and hiding. But at least 183 men and boys were not so fortunate. They were shot and killed on the spot. Only one raider was killed. He was shot by one of the sons of John Speer, Sr., who was the owner and editor of the leading local newspaper.

At least two thirds of the buildings in Lawrence were destroyed, including the Eldridge Hotel. It would be rebuilt, as would the rest of the town. The guerrillas rode away and everyone in Lawrence vowed vengeance. The raid was long remembered. An enmity between the states of Missouri and Kansas would continue up until the present day. At one time it had been deadly, but now it was limited to sports rivalries.

When the raiders were well away from the scene of their destruction they stopped at the farm of a pro-slavery sympathizer. Most of the men were able to sleep in a barn, while others stayed out under the moonlight. Quantrill himself found a daughter of the farmer waiting for him there. He was still feeling the bloodlust, and he sought to relieve it with her. His own teenage wife was still back in Missouri.

The farmhouse was typical of the style across the mid-west. It was two rooms up and two down. He ascended the staircase, holding the hand of the willing young lady. Her father was proud that his daughter found favor with the great guerrilla leader.

"Let me see you removing your garments. Do it quickly. I need rest, but first I need your flesh, woman."

He watched as she shyly lifted her long dress over her head, and began taking off all the sundry undergarments she wore. He was, at the same time, doffing his own sweat-stained clothing. He hadn't bathed in weeks, but neither had she. They didn't even notice the stench of their own bodies. They were both now naked and he roughly threw her onto the bed stuffed with corn shucks. He was groping her breasts as she cried out in pain.

"That's it, woman. Let me know you feel it. Damn, you need to be used. Feel me. Feel my manhood. Damn you, feel me now! Open your legs, you harlot. You're getting just what you wanted. I know this."

With that he pressed the head of his prick against her hairy triangle and pushed inward, forcefully. Then he started rapidly ramming his cock into her. He was not taking any time. He simply wanted to relieve his own needs, and he fucked her roughly. Her legs were wrapped about his waist, trying to get whatever pleasure she could.

When she began kicking her heels against his back, wanting him to give her more, he slapped her face.

"Let me do this, you filthy bitch. I'm getting what I need. Just let me get on with it."

He was grunting like a hog now. He was thrusting his pecker into her pussy as she took him and wished for more. He was through rather quickly. His face twisted into a frown, he pumped once more, then shot his juices into her. She sighed as he humped one last time and withdrew.

"You can go now. I need to sleep. Go on, get the hell out."

The raiders were not there long. They stayed just until they had rested up and were ready to ride to the border. They crossed over in a few hours, returning to their homes and families. The people of Lawrence were putting out fires and cleaning up for days, nay, weeks.

Charles Robinson went on to serve in the state senate of Kansas for some years. He was also the Superintendent of the Haskell Institute, a school for American Indians. And he was a regent for the University of Kansas. He died in 1894. He and his wife, Sarah, donated property to help create the University of Kansas.

Sarah Tappan Doolittle Robinson died in 1911. She was famous for her book called Kansas: Its Interior and Exterior Life. Her estate, valued at $200,000, was bequeathed to the University of Kansas.

James Henry Lane was reelected to the office of U.S. Senator in 1865. The following year he committed suicide.

William T. Anderson led a raid on Centralia, Missouri, in 1864. His men were able to capture a passenger train, which was the first time Confederate troops had been able to do so. They then committed the Centralia Massacre. Twenty Union troops on the train were killed, and then they were able to ambush and kill about one hundred Union militiamen. Anderson was finally killed by Union troops in 1864.

William Quantrill moved his forces to Kentucky, and during a battle with Union troops he was shot in the head. He died days later in 1865. He was buried in an unmarked grave which led later to claims he was buried in three separate places. And it was claimed some years later that he had survived and lived until 1907.