The Hessian's Tale

"Wanna go one more time?" he asked.

Claire responded by walking to the bed and mounting him.

In their room, Abby shed the dress as Chris doffed his costume. She began working on removing the bustier. When he was naked, he walked up behind her, taking her ass cheeks in his hands.

"Come to bed like this," he said. "Leave it on for now."

Abby walked to the edge of the bed and pulled the covers back, then crawled onto it. Before she could move away from the edge of the bed, Chris caught her hips in his hands.

"I want you just like this," he said. Letting go of her with his right hand, he took hold of his cock, aimed it into her pussy, thrust forward and began fucking her.

The next morning, everyone got up slowly, feeling the effects of a hard night. As they began moving around, the old man came into the house, noting that the party had apparently been very successful.

After everyone had eaten and the final cleaning had been finished, they sat down at the main table to talk for a few minutes with the caretaker.

"So, what are some of the interesting folk stories from around here?"

"Yeah," Claire said, leaning forward in her seat. "Between this house and the town, there has to be some good history here."

"Oh, there are lots of stories to tell," the old man said. He rocked back in his chair and puffed on his pipe. His gaze traveled around the room, his eyes lingering for an uncomfortable moment on Abby.

"One of the things a lot of people don't know," he said, "is that we had a fair amount of activity here during part of the American Revolution."

"Really?" Mark asked.

"Yes, indeed," the old man replied, nodding his head.

"We're not to far from Trenton, where General Washington conducted his famous Christmas Day attack on the Hessians," he said. "Trenton usually overshadows the fact that we had a detachment of Hessian soldiers garrisoned right here in our town, too. They weren't any more popular here than they were there.

"Just like any groups of people in any war, though," he said, "there were some on both sides that tried to be civil to one another, despite the threats of retaliation or reprisal from their own people." The old man puffed on his pipe, considering his next words.

"Probably the best tale to come out of all that is the legend of the Hessian and the maiden," he said, folding his arms in front of him.

"There was this young Hessian soldier who fell in love with the country and the people here, not unlike a number of his comrades," he said. "There were a number of Hessians that stayed in the colonies and became citizens, you know." Realizing he was digressing from his story, the old man waved his hand in front of him.

"According to the legend, this young man was part of a group of Hessian troops that came through searching this very house one day," he said. "As they were entering the house, he noticed the house master's middle daughter. She was a beautiful young woman, and folks say she'd been betrothed to a young man until he joined the continental army, and that her father broke her heart when he forbade her to marry the young man because he was opposed to the war.

"Anyway, the young woman catches the young soldier's eye, and she notices that he's a handsome young man in his own right," the old man said. "She began sneaking off to try and see the young man, and when her father found out, he was furious. He ordered his daughter to stay away from the Hessian, and pled with the Hessian commander to keep the young man away from his daughter."

"Sounds kind of like Romeo and Juliet," said Sara.

The old man nodded.

"And, like Romeo and Juliet, they refused to be denied their desire for one another. She would go out at night and stand near in the shadows near the large tree in the corner of the orchard by the fence, waiting for him."

"That huge tree that pushes right up against the fence?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, but the tree wasn't so big then as it is now, though," the old man replied, annoyed at the interruption. "Over the course of the next few months, the couple fell in love and began talking of getting married. And then one night, her father noticed her walking toward the orchard. He grabbed his musket, loaded it with shot, and followed her, knowing she must be going to see the young soldier.

"When he got to the orchard, he didn't see his daughter, so much as he heard her," the old man said, leaning forward in his chair. "He heard her in the unmistakable throes of passion and followed the sounds until he found her."

The old man inhaled on his pipe and then let out a long puff of smoke.

"When he finally saw his daughter," the old man said, "folks say she was standing with her back against a tree, the bodice of her dress and her corset open, breasts exposed, with the young soldier holding her dress up around her waist as he stood there, pants lowered, fully involved in the act of copulation."

"Oh my!" Sara sat forward, smiling at the thought.

"Her father was beside himself with rage, and without thinking, raised the musket and fired," the old man said. "The blast, presumably intended for Hessian, merely grazed him and actually killed the daughter. The Hessian fell away, stunned and bleeding, and before he could recover or defend himself, the father beat him to death with the butt of the musket."

"Wow," said Flynn, shaking his head.

"Wow is right," said the old man. "The house master told people his daughter had been mistaken for an intruder in the middle of the night, and out of respect for him, nobody pressed the issue. They buried her in what was then the family cemetery about a half-mile down the road from here. They say his wife never forgave him for her daughter's death.

"The house master, realizing he would be harshly dealt with if the Hessian's found him out, told no one about the dead soldier," the old man said. "He took the body to the far corner of the near pasture, out back by that gazebo, and buried him there. He planted a tree on top of him to help hide the fact, and it was assumed that the Hessian had deserted his unit. Myself, I think a lot of the local people knew what had happened."

"That's so sad," said Sara. "And the story sounded like it was going to end well, too."

"Be patient, I'm not finished," said the old man. "Folks around here say, every now and then, you can see their ghosts wandering around on the grounds here. They say the young woman can be seen waiting down by the trees for her lover, and the Hessian can be found wandering around out back between the barn and the gazebo, lost, unable to determine where he is, trying to find her."

"That's spooky," said Claire as she shook her head slowly.

"And that is the story of the Hessian and the Maiden," said the old man as he stood up and began walking to the kitchen.

"What were there names," Sara said.

"I didn't tell you there names?" the old man asked as he tilted his head, trying to remember.

"No," Claire said. The rest of the group mumbled their agreement. "You just referred to them as the Hessian and the Maiden."

"My mistake," the old man said, pausing as his eyes drifted and came to linger on Chris and Abby. "I apologize. Their names were Kristoff and Abigail."