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The Highwayman

Lady Jane's new life begins...

Davey pulled his cloak tighter around himself, feeling the bitter north wind cutting its path across the high moor. Autumn leaves blowing in angry circles about his horses' feet, causing the big chestnut to stamp its feet nervously. He leant down and patted the strong neck of his trusty mount.

“Hush boy, not long now. I'll soon have us galloping through the night.”

He knew the Falmouth coach would pass by on the narrow lane below him within the hour. Word had it, the new Magistrate and his lady would be aboard, with their servant, and, of more interest to him, their purses and jewels. For Davey was a highwayman, he had plied his trade in these parts for two years.

He knew well enough that to be caught would mean the hangman's noose, but he was a careful man, never gossiping of his work in the local taverns. Too many of his profession, he had seen swinging from a gibbet for doing that.

Then a prick of light caught his eye, a lantern's feeble glow showed in the distance. The Falmouth coach was approaching. Pulling back his cloak he checked the two flintlock pistols in his belt, handsome pieces, he had taken from a pompous army Colonel some year or more ago. The man had shown some resistance to parting with them, but a ball from Davey's own piece at his feet had soon persuaded him otherwise.

As the coachman rounded the bend he was confounded by the fallen branch across the narrow road. Cursing, he got down from the driving bench and took hold of it.

“Can’t shift the bugger, get down here, a give us a hand,” He called to the coaching guard seated on the rear step of the coach.

Davey smiled to himself as he sat on his horse in the darkness. It had taken the strength of his mount to pull the branch into place, and he knew no one man would move it. Quietly, he urged the horse forward until he was between the coach and the sweating coachmen.

“Stand and deliver. Your money or your life!” Davey yelled, his two pistols drawn and cocked. One was pointing at the two coachmen, the other at the portly gentleman staring, wide-eyed out of the coach.

Eyeing the coachmen, he said, “I have no quarrel with you men, be off with you, or it’s is a ball between the eyes for you both.” The two men looked at each other, turned and fled.

Davey dismounted his horse, and striding to the coach, pulled open the door. He surveyed the scene with the practised eye one of his profession needed to survive. There were two women sitting huddled together on one side, and the portly man on the other. No weapons were visible, but he knew better than to trust to luck.

He placed the barrel of one pistol against the man’s head and said. “Ladies, would you be as kind as to lift your skirts. Many a weapon has been known to nestle in such fine surroundings.”

One of the women, obviously the maid, burst into tears.

The other woman turned to the maid, saying, “Hush, Mary! Don’t distress yourself, I am sure this ‘gentleman’ means us no harm.”

And without a moment’s hesitation, she drew her skirts and petticoats up to her waist. Underneath, she was wearing white pantaloons, which extended to just above her ankles.

“Maybe you wish to check here as well,” she said in a haughty voice, and opened her legs wide. In common with the design of the day, her underwear was open at the crotch, and Davey could see a hairy gash in the twinkling light of the coach lanterns.

He smiled and placed the barrel of his other pistol directly between the lips. Here was a lady who, unlike her crying maid, was not one to be intimidated easily. She held his gaze without a blink, in fact, Davey thought he could detect a slight smile on her painted lips.

“No, my lady, I think any weapon that was hidden there is not designed to do me harm,” He said with a laugh. “Now you girl, the same if you please.”

The poor young girl shook her head, but was too frightened to speak.

“Come on, Mary, it will take but a moment.” Her mistress said, and leaning forward lifted her maid’s skirts.

Unlike her mistress, the maid wore no underwear, and her naked cunt came into view. Davey noticed the portly man's piggy eyes twinkled at the sight, and he wondered how often he pleasured himself at her expense.

“Well, sir, it would appear the ladies have no baubles hidden along with their treasures, so maybe you have some on your person,” Davey said prodding the man’s fat belly with his pistol.

“You scoundrel! Do you not know who I am? Remove your mask, so I may see the face of the rogue that would distress my wife so.”

“Remove my mask? Why, to do that would be to sign my death warrant. You and your corrupt cronies would have a noose around my neck before cockcrow.” Davey snarled. “Now your purse if you please, and that fine ring on your finger.”

“My purse you shall have, but the ring, no. See, my fingers are too fat for it to be removed.” the man held out his hand to show.

A scream broke from the man as Davey drove the heel of his thigh boot hard into his groin. “A broken finger, or broken balls, your choice,” he said.

As the man struggled to pull the ring from his fat finger, Davey looked at the lady sitting opposite. She had a slight smile on her face, and as their eyes locked, she gave just the merest nod of her head. Davey smiled and pushed his heel harder into the man's balls.

With a grunt of pain, the man wrenched the ring from his finger and gave it to Davey.

“Hmm, a fine ring. T'will fetch a guinea or two I'll wager,” He said, as he slipped it into his pocket along with the man’s bulging purse.

Turning his attention to the lady he spotted a diamond pendant around her neck.

“I'll take that bauble if you please, my lady,”

“If you want it, take it. I will not help you,” she said, her green eyes flashed, but not in anger, more in amusement. “The clasp is at the back, be a shame to break the chain for the sake of a second.”

Davey slid a hand down her slim swan-like neck and released the clasp. As he lifted it from her body, he felt her shudder as he allowed his fingers to linger on her throat, a few inches above her heaving breasts.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Davey said with a laugh, as he swung his leg across his horse's saddle and galloped into the night.

But his mind was filled with the thought of the lady, she needed more than the fat magistrate between her legs. She needed the hard cock of a highwayman, his cock, and she was going to get it.

Three days later, Davey rode across the moor. The sun was high in the sky and he was dressed in smart riding attire, a far cry from his night-time garb. Today he was still bent on robbery, but of a different kind.

Today, he was after fairer prey, the lady from the coach, who he now knew to be Lady Jane Moore. He had found out she took her morning ride along this old smugglers path. He had been unable to free his mind of her beauty, but it was more than that, there was something in her strong features that told of an underlying self-assurance, not often found in her sex.

Arriving at a small stream, Davey dismounted and led his horse forward to drink. As he stood patting its neck the sound of hooves pounding the dusty track came to his ears. Turning, he saw her. She was mounted on a white mare, almost as tall as his own mount, dressed not as he would have expected in a long ladies riding habit. But in a white blouse, and a smart riding skirt.

“So we meet again,” the woman said as she reigned her mare to a halt beside Davey.

“You have the advantage of me, my lady, I fear we have never met before, though I wish it were otherwise,” Davey answered.

“Sir, I may not recognize you, but I know my horses. I only know of one chestnut stallion, standing seventeen hands, with black markings on its fetlocks,” she said pointing to Davey's mount.

Davey studied her closely, trying to assess her next move. If it was a choice between her life and his, she would not leave this spot alive.

Jane looked down at the handsome man who was now holding her horse's bridle and gently stroking the mare's nose. He stood a little less than six feet in height; his black hair pulled back into a fashionable knot at the back. His clothing was of good quality, without being flamboyant. His face was tanned, a strong jaw, and a deep scar that ran from just above his right eye up into his hairline.

“Sir, I am not stupid. I know if we cannot find a compromise my life is forfeit. So I have a suggestion I hope will be to your liking.”

“I am listening, my lady, pray continue,” Davey said as he continues to stroke the white mare.

“My husband is rich in money, but poor in physical wealth. I am sure my memory of the other night would be quite driven from my mind if the masked stranger from then were to service my needs this very hour.”

Her voice was calm, and as in the coach, showed not a trace of fear.

Davey studied her for a long time. He was pleased to see she sat astride her horse, rather than the side-saddle style favoured by most women.

“My lady, does not riding in that way damage your pantaloons? I would have thought the movement would have torn them,” he asked with a laugh.

Without a moment's hesitation, Jane lifted her skirts to reveal her shapely white legs.

“See, nothing to damage.”

Davey allowed a hand to slide up the shapely leg and across in front of the naked cunt he had glimpsed in the coach.

“I detect some traces of moisture here my lady,” he said, touching the leather prow of the expensive saddle. “I see your ride is not only for the enjoyment of the air.”

“You sir, are a scoundrel! You need to be taught some manners,” Jane scolded, bringing her riding whip down with some force across his hand.

In a flash, Davey had her by the wrist and twisted her from the saddle. As she fell he caught he,r and carried her to a mossy mound beneath a tall oak tree.

She laughed as he threw her to the ground, and lifting her skirts to her waist, lay back, legs apart.

“There, there is my cunny. This same one you prodded with your pistol. I hope the weapon you intend to discharge into her today is more to my liking.” she purred.

Davey unbuttoned his breeches, today was no day for foreplay and lovemaking. Today was for urgent fucking and they both knew that. As his hard cock swung free, Jane smiled seeing it was twice the size of the pathetic piece of fuck meat her husband sported.

“Fuck me! Take me, use me, make me cum on that magnificent shaft of delight,” she begged.

Davey needed no second request and plunged his cock into her open sex slit in one hard thrust. So easy was its passage, he knew that the horse ride had done the work for him, and this woman was already in a horny state. As is often the case, in one of instant lust, their climaxes were but a minute away. And soon Jane was rewarded with the feeling of hot spunk pouring into her love-starved body.

For Davey’s part, the feeling of Jane's cunt muscles milking his swollen cock was enough to drag more cum than he thought possible from his swinging balls. And the gasps of delight from her lips told him his efforts had not been in vain.

Their passion spent the two lovers lay side by side, neither bothering to rearrange their clothing and lost in their own thoughts.

Davey, for his part, was wondering if he could trust the bargain struck between them. While Jane was thinking of a way to bring more excitement into her dreary life.

“Can I ride with you?” Jane suddenly asked as she rolled onto her side towards him, at the same time stroking his half hard cock.

“Where? Across the moors? Surely you do not want me to ride over your husband's estate. To do that I may as well place the hangman's halter about my own neck.” Davey chuckled.

“No, my lover, I mean in the dead of night, when you don your mask and plunder the rich, as your accomplice. Let me feel the thrill of being chased by the soldiers and revenue men. Let me know the feeling of danger. In other words, let me live!” Jane’s voice was almost one of pleading.

“You would swap your life of luxury for one where a musket ball may rip through you at any moment? Davey said in a firm way.

“In a heartbeat, if it could mean feeling you in my body one more time,” Jane said, smiling to herself as she felt his cock harden in her hand.

“Then we must plan, the games afoot, my wicked wench! Let us seal the bargain.” and so saying, he fell upon her again. Once more his cock slid into her cum dripping cunt with ease.

“Oh God! Fuck me hard, I will be yours whenever you want,” Jane gasped as he pounded her writhing body.

Two minutes later, she was rewarded with a second load of hot highwayman's spunk in her belly. This time coupled with deep and long kisses; kisses of a lover, the one she would come to know so well.

For the next half hour, the two lovers formed their plans for the life of night riders, smugglers and highwaymen. Jane’s position in the local community gave her knowledge of the comings and goings of people of wealth and their valuables. Davey knew every lane and footpath in the area, and they both had horses that could travel like the wind.

The plan was to meet at the highpoint crossroad at midnight tomorrow for their first adventure. But as Davey turned his horse to ride on Jane placed her whip across his chest and said, “May I know the name of the man that has just fucked me, and left my cunny full of his jism?”

“Davey, I'm known by that name hereabouts, my real name is of no consequence my Lady Jane.” And spurring his mount to action disappeared from sight.

Jane sat alone wondering at the changes in her comfortable, but boring life, and for the first time in years felt truly alive. A slow smile spread across her face and she murmured, “Yes the game is afoot, let the sport begin!”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyrighted: 2018 All work published under the author's name of Malc72 are entirely my own work and all rights are reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced in any form without the express permission of the author.

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