One Night in Sydney Cove

"Sarcasm," Nathaniel says, turning to face me, and I'm sure he's grinning, though all I can see is his silhouette. "I like it."

"Nathaniel," I say, my voice serious. "Do you hear voices?"

Nathaniel peers out into the blackness. "Can't hear anything other than this damn rain."

"There was shouting after that big crack of thunder."

"Which crack?" He asks, picking up his musket and peering back into the gloom as another bolt of lightning and crack of thunder assaults us. "That one? The one just before, or the one before that, or the one before that even?"

"Does it matter which one?" I ask, becoming anxious. "There, can you hear the shouting now?"

"I must be deaf from firing muskets and spending too much time around cannons on ships and fortifications. Can't hear much other than the rain."

My instinct is to retreat further into the tent, to where Ann and John McCarthy are snoring away, but I feel safer with Nathaniel, standing at the door flap behind him.

"Can you hear them now?" He whispers after a while.

"Not at the moment."

"I have to go and see. If the convicts are getting past us I need to stop them. Or the sailors for that matter. I'll wake McCarthy."

"Please, Nathaniel, be careful." The fear is rising within me and while I don't want him to leave, I know Nathaniel must do his duty as ordered by his commanding officer, Captain Tench.

The storm rages on with flashes and loud cracks, so often that Nathaniel is attempting to use the flashes to view his pocket-watch, clearly reluctant to leave the tent to search for convicts or sailors in the wet stormy dark. Perhaps he's a little anxious too, for the relief party has not arrived yet. There's no table or candle-lantern in this tent, having been erected simply to give shelter to the Marine's guarding the line between the convict's and governor's camps.

He makes a decision, turning to wake Private McCarthy, and we both hear more voices calling loudly in the distance. My heart races, for surely the sailors are coming back for their shipmates, or the convicts are going to overrun us. Peer into the darkness I'm sure there is the dark shape of a man there in gloom, out beyond the front of the tents, followed by three more.

"Nathaniel!" I whisper, trying to keep my voice calm. "There's men out there."

He abandons waking McCarthy and turns, his musket at his shoulder in an instant, then bellowing, "Who goes there!"

The black figures stopped and a voice calls out. "Is that you, Nate?"

"Bags?" Nate's voice bellows again. "Is it you, you bastard?"

Rather casually the voice in the dark returns Nathaniel's challenge. "The one and only, old cock, but who are you to call another man a bastard, you old bastard?"

I hear Nathaniel laugh quietly from beside me as he lowers his Brown Bess musket, and calls out again. "Damn you, I almost made you a dead bastard. Get in here, out of the rain." The four new Marines approach the tent and even though my heart is slowing I'm somewhat apprehensive about the new comers, despite Nathaniel's and Bags the bastard's jovial exchange.

The men duck under the awning, which is drooping with pooling water again, and walks up to Nathaniel, taking his musket, examining it in the dark. "You couldn't have made me a dead bastard, Nate, you lying old bastard. Your weapon isn't even loaded!"

Nathaniel laughs again. "You got me there, Bags. No point trying to keep powder dry in the pan tonight, is there? I was going to run you through with me bayonet instead."

Bags hands the musket back to Nathaniel with a hearty laugh and the men shake hands. Nathaniel gently guides me further into the tent, making room for the relief guards who crowd the entrance. There is humour in his voice now. "What took you so long, Bags? The Captain said you'd relieve us at midnight and I make it twenty past. Getting lazy in your old age?"

"Piss off, Nate. We had more important things to do. God decided to send down some lightning and roasted some of the Major's sheep and hogs and we had to round the rest up."

"Fresh roast mutton and pork would be delicious compensation for your lateness. I hope you brought some with you."

"You're out of luck, Nate," Bags speaks with a laugh. "And the Major is livid and likely will be in the morning too. We managed to find the livestock though, so we made our excuses, making it clear we were reliving you fellas and he knows what a bunch of useless sods you lot are so he excused us and we made haste to get away from him. So, who's your friend here?"

"How rude of me not to introduce you all," Nathaniel states. "This is my fiancé, Henrietta. And this is Corporal James Bagley, who we all call Bags."

My heart leaps in my chest when he calls me his fiancé, but I confess the word sounds unbelievable and strange to my ears, since my new status is still so fresh.

"Fiancé," Corporal Bagley says with a whistle, clearly surprised. "You never said nuthin' about a fiancé." He then introduces us to the three Privates, and tells us more about how lightning struck the tree under which their Major Ross' livestock were penned, killing at least five sheep and a pig, and how the Major commandeered the patrol as they were leaving camp to relieve of our small guard force, raging at them as if it were their fault and ordering them to help him round up the surviving animals who'd fled into the darkness. "The bastard threatened us with insubordination if we didn't stop to lend a hand!"

"Some excuse for being late, my dear Bags." Nathaniel's tone is sarcastic and jovial I reckon he has a grin on his face, but it's too dark to tell.

One of the Privates, whose name I've already forgotten, laughs. "You shoulda seen the Major in his night gown down to his ankles, running about like a ghost out in the rain, cursing at the top of his voice and calling out, 'where are my damn sheep'!" Another of the young Marines joins him in laughter at the memory.

Their laughs fade away and Corporal Bagley speaks again. "Well, Nate, we've come to save your arse from the murderous lags, so you and yer fiancé can relax and put yer heads down now. We'll take over duties. Where are your other men, by the way?"

Nathaniel explains how the three Privates were on duty most of the evening, and how they'd captured two seamen trying to get at the convict women who Captain Tench had placed in their custody for safety's sake. The humour in Nathaniel's voice is clear. "We fought hard and one of the buggers even punched me in the face. Afterwards some of the girls took a liking to my men and thus they each made their acquaintances with their savours."

"I'm sure those sailors much improved your ugly mug," Bagley responds with a low laugh. "And I guess there's a couple of your lazy sods snoring their heads off up the back of your tent here, spending more time with the girls rather than on duty."

"Ah well, Bags, lucky you're here to save our lazy arses." Nathaniel's voice still carries a humorous tone.

Corporal Bagley laughs quietly. "You best join them, with your loverly lady, Nate. The Commodore is giving everyone a sleep-in tomorrow mornin', but will bugle the muster before eleven. He's going to impose total martial law now the women are ashore and there may be no visitations with the ladies once they've been assigned to a tent."

Nathaniel gives a low whistle and speaks with a hint of sarcasm. "No visitations with the ladies? It's going to lead to trouble, I reckon. Anyhow, our supreme commander in chief hasn't met many of these women, surely, because I think we'll be protecting the men from them. I believe this little crew of ladies my men have been hosting could whip half the fleet into submission in no time at all."

With the rain still falling, though not quite so heavy now with the storm somewhere down the harbour, the new Marine patrol sets up their guard picket out the front of the tents under the canvas awning, allowing Nathaniel and me some privacy.

"Do you mind if I call you Nate?" I ask in a whisper as we settle on the cool sandy floor.

"You may, my lady, but only if I can call you Hettie."

With a giggle, I copy him. "You may, Nate, my fine gentleman fiancé." I exaggerate his name and the word fiancé, thinking the term will take me some getting used to.

The sandy ground in the tent is damp, but not wet, and reasonably comfortable. The previous day had been oppressively hot into the evening, and even after the first storm rolled across the cove the atmosphere was still oppressive with damp heat, yet the air is cool now, and to be frankly honest, much more comfortable.

I'm even more comfortable laying against Nathaniel as he strokes his fingers gently through my hair. I'd purr if I were a cat. "That's nice, Nate."

I feel his body rise with each intake of breath and then he sighs. "It's been a while since I've felt a woman's body against my own."

I think for a moment before responding. "Are you thinking of your wife?"

"I guess," he says. "Yes, I suppose I was."

"I'm sorry about your loss." This is the second time I've said these words tonight, detecting unresolved pain in Nate's heart.

"No need to be sorry. We need to make the best of our situations, no matter how bad they've been. I see the future is looking rosier since Captain Tench asked me to guard you and your companions this night."

He's still stroking my hair and his touch feels so wonderfully nice. With my head laid upon his chest I can hear his heart beat under my ear, making the thudding sound of comfort. I hold his warm body against mine and whisper his name. "Nathaniel?"

"Yes, my sweet."

"Do you promise to marry me?"

"I promise you. I'll swear it on my Mother's grave if you want."

"Oh, Nathaniel, you've made my fortunes soar. We will make the best of this situation."

"No longer such a bad situation is it, my sweetheart," he murmurs with a soft laugh. "I'm sure we can make a go of it here. We just need the right soil and we'll be producing crops that'll be the envy of the colony." He shifts his weight and I feel his lips press on the top of my head through my unruly curls. He makes me feel safe and I couldn't control the smile on my lips, even if I'd wanted to, and when I turn to him, his lips find mine in the dark.

Despite rutting with several men in the prison hulks and on board the transports, I've only ever been kissed properly by one other man; my old master with whom I'd sewn my destiny of transportation. Nathaniel's lips are gentle and soft, while his face is rough with short whiskers bristling from recently shaved skin, and he opens my lips with his own, his tongue touching the tip of my tongue.

Not even my old master kissed me like this, and for a split second I'm unsure about the unfamiliar feelings and intimacy of his kiss. But he feels nice, perhaps even right, and when he pulls me into him where our bodies press tight against each other, feelings I can only describe as warmth and secure flood through me and I kiss him back, holding him tight while our tongues become well acquainted.

Oh, yes, now I feel his bulging tumescence growing between us and a vision flashes through my mind; the scandalous memory of Charlotte's mouth enveloping Private John Hayes' huge tadger. Her mouth is big enough and still couldn't take in the length of Hayes' manhood, and with this thought invading my mind's eye, and also my passion kissing with Nate, I wonder if my small mouth could take Nate in much the same way. My body responds to these rude thoughts with a surge of joy flashing down below, my lady parts throbbing and pinching with pleasurable twinges.

Charlotte's oral activities with her Private shocked me, perhaps because she'd taken him so willingly in her mouth with no hesitation, but now I'm highly aroused by the thoughts and memories, and I realise I want to taste Corporal Nathaniel Bowers' manhood in the same manner. I'd love to give him pleasures like no other, for I know he will be my husband and I his wife, and what we do now is what we will be doing regularly, at least for as long as we draw breath. And perhaps if the Lord accepts us into Heaven, we will be together to continue our loving for eternity. Such is my greatest hope and desire!

But I feel we are already in Heaven with his lips on mine, their softness then lightly caressing along my jaw, past my earlobe, then gently along my neck, while his hand wanders into my ruffled petticoat. His fingers touch me down below, grazing my swollen cunny, sending another shock of joy through me, and a loud gasp escapes my open mouth, panting, and I try to stifle further embarrassment with a hand to my gob. Oh, my, whatever he's doing he knows how to do it well, because I've never met a man who's made me feel this good with his fingers alone. He is rubbing at my lady lips and my body is tingling from it!

His groping stops as I gasp again. "Are you alright?" He whispers.

Breathing hard, I whisper back, "Yes, my dearest. Please don't stop."

Without a further word his lips kiss my neck, hard, right where it joins my shoulder in the hollow of the bone there, above my breast, causing me to throb like the lightning illuminating the tent every-now-and-then, pulsating through my mound where his hand now cups me. His nose is against my ear, kissing and nuzzling, sending more tingles through me, and then Nathaniel whispers, "I want to make you happy, Hettie."

"Yessss," I whisper back, and feel his palm push into my crotch, sending increasing surges of pleasure joy through me, amplified by his two fat fingers entering between my cunny lips, curling inside me and rubbing upwards in a most wonderful way. Oh, Lord forgive me, but whatever it is Nathaniel's doing feels amazing and I dare not wish him to stop! My gasps increase while I try not to moan too loud, Nathaniel planting his mouth on mine again, our tongues pushing at each other till they part again. "Ohhhhhh, so nice."

Nathaniel's fingers are touching my tender cavity, rubbing me inside, feeling me up, pleasuring me, and oh, Lord, Nathaniel does know this trade! Our mouths are joined in a long hard kiss, but I need air because I can't control the feelings building within me, taking my breath away and making me feel amazingly incredible, my heart beating hard! The warm sensations are building inside, spreading through my legs, my tummy, tightening, slowly, slowly, but faster and faster.

Our lips together, then parting, the sensations taking hold, and Nathaniel is beginning to pant too in the dark tent. I can feel his hot breath on my face, nuzzling my cheek, his uniformed body against mine and my arms around him, pulling us together, his chest pushing against the swelling of my breast and his hand always pressing hard on my mound with oh so wonderful pressure, his fingers curling inside my soaking burrow, moving, feeling me, feeling him, the pleasure overloading.

Euphoria bursts across me in waves, pulsating, and an uncontrollable squeak pops involuntarily from my mouth before I can cover my lips with my hand, the waves of warm pleasure radiating through me. It's unlike anything I've ever experienced and I hold Nathaniel tight, because it feels like love.

"I will love you, Hettie," he whispers into my ear and kisses my lobe. "I promise you this."

"Oh, Nathaniel, I will love you too. I'm certain we are meant to love each other." I enjoy the warmth of his body against me as I begin to relax, the euphoric sensations draining from me as he withdraws his fingers from my sensitive lady parts. Oh, Lord, how sweet this man is. I must taste him now. "Your turn."

"We can wait till we are married," he offers. "If you like."

"How long will it be? A day? Two days? A week? A month? Can you wait? Does it matter?"

"I don't know, my dearest sweetheart. But I will wait for you forever."

My heart skips as I smile and sigh, taking his hand in mine and then his wet fingers are in my mouth and I suck on them, nice and slow, tasting my lingering cunny juice while my other hand sets out on its own adventure to unbuckle Nathaniel's belt and trousers in the dark. In a moment his warm tumescent member is in my hand; his stiff hard flesh twitching slightly as I lightly caress him so, delicately at first.

"I can't wait forever," I whisper. "I want you now."

"Hettie," Nathaniel whispers, and I gently caress my hand along his hard shaft.

"Nate."

Continuing my gentle stroking, I await his reply, but receive none, and thus increase my grip with vigour. I wish I could see him but it is much too dark, so I bend to him, taking him by feel, kissing the end of his engorged tadger, my lips soft on his hardness and my tongue licking his salty hard shaft skin.

"You don't need to kiss me there, Hettie, my sweetness." Despite telling me this, he makes no effort to move my mouth from his member.

"I desire you," I tell him breathily. "I want to please you."

"I want to love you." His words are whispered softly, like caresses in the night air.

My lips cover him, sliding down his stiff horn, so slow, and I can't help but visualise Charlotte's mouth around her lover, like my mouth is around Nate. He breathes out and gently places a hand on the back of my head, splaying his fingers among my curls, pushing my head down some more. Nate tastes salty and before his manhood can fill my mouth, I retreat to his tip again, my tongue licking flat along the underside of him and at his drops of man-seed forming at his end.

"I won't be long, my sweetheart," he whispers again as I plunge back down the length of his shaft, as far as I can take him in, filling my mouth with his warm hard flesh, taking him further than before. I almost gag as his end pushes into the back of my throat, my lips far down his shaft, my tongue pushing along his salty taut cock-skin. Unable to take him any further, I release him, my lips moving back towards the tip of his manhood.

My cunny is oh so wet, throbbing with excited joy, because even though I'd previously found myself confronted and appalled by this shocking act, I'm discovering it's the most exciting thing I've ever done with a man, and I now know why many of my women companions are so happy to do this for the sailors.

All of a sudden his hand is pushing my head, my mouth stuffed with his bulging manhood which twitches and releases his load, my mouth filling with his warm salty man-seed, pumping pulse after pulse, more than I can attempt to swallow as the sticky stuff escapes from the edges of my mouth like gravy. His hand pushes on my head and he groans softly, whispering, "Oh, Hettie, my wonderful sweetheart."

I should have known better, I think, because I cannot swallow all of his salty fluid, spitting most of it back at his shaft. But what an arousing experience! I feel myself twinging and throbbing down below, over and over, and the wetness runs down the inside of my thighs. I suck Nate dry, my lips still around his shaft, tonguing the end of his manhood, polishing his hardness, then I release him.

"Will you stay hard for me?" I whisper in the dark tent.

"I'll try, my wonderful lover."

First things first, I need his trousers down to ankles, pulling them into position, then removing my jacket and lifting my petticoat over my head. In the dark I can hear Nathaniel removing his shirt. Fumbling for his buttons, I help him remove his top and run my fingertips down his burly chest, feeling his bushy chest hair and seeing him lit up by another flash of lighting, noticing he is hairy like some kind of wild animal. He's my bear-man. With my other hand I feel for his manhood, which is not quite as hard as I'd hoped for now.

"Nathaniel?"

"Yes, my sweetness." His hand caresses my waist, sending a lovely shiver through me.

"Kiss me, please."

"Since you asked so nicely," he whispers, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. "It would be a pleasure."