Here's a good laugh, people think I'm a lesbian. A dyke on a bike. The ball buster butch, maybe. Maybe they've got their reasons too. There's this great little hobby, this thing called Civil War reenacting. Dressing up, out in the elements, reliving the past and I wanted to be a part of it. Not as a genteel Southern woman, as one of the women back then that tried to be men in the ranks. They were there, don't bother to debate it, and I wanted to find out what it was like. What I found was Paradise, one pump at a time.
The thought of me being a queer girl almost made me grin just last June. It was a Friday night, about 11 or so, some forgotten reenactment some place. My dear loving husband was already long drunk and passed out asleep in the little dog tent to my right. The camp was getting quiet, real quiet. A rustle of grass and I felt my breath catch. The flap on my own tent moved and my heart skipped a beat. The commander had come calling.
The commander, all man and all gorgeous. Muscle on top of muscle, the blue eyed blonde devil himself. For just a moment he paused at the entrance to my tent, his eyes sparkling at what he knew was his. Me. My body. Jake stood staring as I slowly pulled the blanket off my body. I'm a big woman, baby, but he already knew that. As he moved for me, I knew he was a big, big man.
Somewhere in the distance another camp was awake, their laughter around a campfire just a murmur. A woman must be discrete, even a woman who played a man by day. Who became all woman again by night to let her man play. I heard the laughter in the distance as I bit my lip to keep from groaning in pleasure. There's nothing like making love back in time.
Jake suckled hard and fast, his arm shoved behind my back lifting me to his lust. I pulled his shirt off, feeling his muscles taunt and skin so sweet press against me. We both struggled with his trousers as he moved up my body, his cock about to bust loose without our help. He fumbled to put a condom on as his clothes disappeared and my heat drove me berserk. My covers rustled, my thighs opened and God, he was in, banging me in the way I needed. The way I wanted and then it came to me.
Not an orgasm, that didn't happen that night, Jake shooting before I was near ready. Something more important to a Civil War reenactor though, that thing called the Magic Moment. That point in our living theater when it all seems real. As my commander's cock pounded into my wet pussy my mind went back in time. Back to 1862. To 1863, the year didn't matter. All that mattered was it must have been what it was like for one of the dozen, maybe two dozen, women who did fight in the ranks. They were women after all, not lesbians. Whether they'd gone to be with their husbands or just off on the adventure, this had to have happened to one or more of them. They weren't saints back then, no more than we are today. I could almost see and feel another time when reality gushed into me and the moment was gone. Jake collapsed on top of me spent, panting for air but I could only grin. I almost felt it, but there again there would be tomorrow.
It's a hell of thing, trying not to think about how wet my underpants had gotten while a Civil War battle raged. All right, a pretend battle but I was still soaked through, every time my lover/commander passed another tremor shooting through me that afternoon. We both were showing off for each other and we knew it. That made it all the more erotic, the handsome stallion strutting past knowing I was his woman, at least in camp. At the moment I was his trooper. Once night came, I had another plan for a Saturday night in the past. It was time for the trooper to take control.
The sun was just beginning to set as I sauntered past our leader's quarters, pausing for just a moment to whisper a piece of news into the general's ear. The little tidbit that I was wearing a thrift store shirt seemed to be something I thought he might be interested in. After all, as the leader of a military force, he would be used to making conquests. Taking what he considered his prize. The flicker of pure animal lust that darted across his face was my answer that he'd understood the news from the front quite well. I strolled on, quite pleased with myself and knowing there was so much more to come.
Not that I condone rape, don't get me wrong. That is a hideous crime and the offender should have his cock cut off and then be shot, no doubt. Conquest is another matter, especially when that is exactly what a woman wants. To be the trophy, to be taken as the prize. A man's bounty, that's fine by me as long as the man is Jake. My husband, never, but Jake, always. Hell, we'd been lovers for nearly a year, we'd even had a night together when our spouses were both away, but we hadn't had enough. Not yet and my lover had no idea how much he was going to get. I strolled on through camp praying the sun would go down faster, my husband would be drunker quicker. Maybe one of them way back then was just like me.
