bringing my hand around her front, steered my cock into her. The sensual feeling of the tender female flesh tucked well into my loins was all I wanted for a while. Seeking more rounded soft flesh I brought my left hand across her shoulders and down onto her right breast. Getting a firm hold on it, my other hand came up under her and fastened onto her other one. Raw animal lust gripped my body as the erect nipples pressed into the palms of my hands. I wanted to dominate this body beneath me until it was in complete submission to my unbridled savage lust. With an animal strength that wouldn't be denied, I haunched her hips higher and strove to get up her as far as my throbbing cock could penetrate. Then, like a man possessed, I rode her hard with deep, brutal thrusts, heedless of how much I might be hurting her. The pace of my stabbing cock increased. Suddenly every muscle in my body was transfixed in a rigid grip of passion that had me crouched over her with teeth clenched in the pain of the intensity of my feelings. When the last drop of my raging lust spluttered out of me, I collapsed over her back panting like a wounded animal that could go no further. I lay there drained of all aggression with a mind empty of thoughts of Russian atrocities and bullies like the 'Buffalo Bruiser'. Dara, generous to a fault in her loving, I hoped would intuitively understand and forgive me for handling her so roughly. I had returned from the tavern in agonized anger over the terrible cruelties going on every day in this world of ours and with these emotions bursting to be released had blown them off in unbridled lust.
The days went by as days and weeks do. Our evenings with Vladimir were intermittent as I was often away travelling. There is some truth in the saying that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' for always on my return I got a most ardent welcome from Dara. As soon as I got through the door she would rush into my arms and shower me with kisses. Girls can be very generous with their kisses when they are in love. Pressing her little belly hard into me brought the usual response. Flinging our clothes off, we would leap onto the bed to lie well stuck into each other for an hour or two. After a little sleep we would rise, dress and go off to 'The Dog's Head' to listen to Vladimir's outrageous stories while we drank our ale and ate our meat pies. As far as I was concerned, and I'm sure it was the same for Dara, it was the happiest period of my life.
The evening before Good Friday at The Dog's Head' was a night I was to remember for the rest of my life. Everything seemed to be as usual when we arrived-with one exception. Vladimir wasn't there to welcome us and, to make matters worse, the 'Buffalo Bruiser' and his friends were there kicking up a hell of a din with their foul obscenities and raucous laughter.
From what I could gather, they were on a spree and had been drinking in two or three taverns gathering up more hangers-on at each ale house before coming on to 'The Dog's Head'. The 'Bruiser' was insisting on everybody buying him a drink because it was his birthday. Even total strangers were being pressed to buy him a drink. If anybody hesitated he stuck his chin out and gave them a mean look until they got him a drink. Then as they were about to take a swig of their own drink he would slap them as hard as he could on the back with the result that they had ale all over their faces as they struggled to keep on their feet. When this happened the noise of shouting and laughter was deafening.
After a while I became aware that Dara and I were receiving a lot of attention from the 'Bruiser' and his cronies. Without Vladimir's bulk to protect us I became a little apprehensive and whispered in Dara's ear that we should go before trouble came our way. Swallowing what was left of my ale I was about to rise when the 'Bruiser' suddenly appeared at our table and grabbed Dara by the hand. Dara leaned back and tried to pull away from the firm grip he had on her and cast a despairing glance in my direction.
Taken by surprise and totally unprepared for what was happening, I rose slowly to my feet. Getting a firmer grip on Dara's hand he pulled her forward until their noses were nearly touching.
'Yo're a real pretty gal-ain't yo' just,' he said in a thick drunken voice. 'We've 'ad a bet that yo' cain't refuse me a little kiss seeing that it's ma birthday.'
One of his friends chose that moment to shout, 'Come on, BB, get on with it or yor'll lose yo' bet an' yor'll be buying drinks all round.'
It came to me that the 'Bruiser' was taking advantage of Vladimir's absence to play free and easy with Dara. Assuming, I suppose that I would be too afraid to object to him taking liberties with my girl. As he made a move to plant a kiss on her lips and she quickly averted her face, my hackles rose and, without giving the matter any further thought, I pushed him in a sudden outburst of blinding red hot anger. The talk and noise died away when he fell over backwards and there was a deathly hush all over the tavern. With murder in his eyes, he got up slowly from the floor and his coarse, unshaven face suddenly loomed up before me. He reached out and grabbed me by the front of my jacket. As we stood, eye to eye, it came to me that he was taller and broader than me and certainly a lot tougher than I ever could be.
Amazed and alarmed at this sudden turn of events, I felt my stomach tense with fear. His bloodshot eyes glared straight into mine. He has had too much to drink, I thought; maybe if it comes to a fight his inebriation will slow him down.
Suddenly he threw back his head and roared with laughter. 'So yo' wanna fight, hey? Yo' must be crazy, hey?'
I didn't answer. The last thing I wanted was a fight, especially with a murderous brute who would stop at nothing once he got started. And then there were my employers. If it ever got back to them that I had been involved in a tavern brawl then I would be out of work. I sent up a despairing prayer: God have pity on me and get me out of this mess.
The 'Bruiser', confident of his superiority and strength, gazed at me with contempt and then blew out a derisive farting sound between wet lips, spraying my face with spittle. Flustered and outraged, I aimed a blow at his head with a clenched fist. He blocked it with his elbow and pushed me to the floor. I would undoubtedly have been kicked in the head as I lay there but for the intervention of the landlord who came between us and took the full impact of the 'Bruiser's' vicious kick on his legs. With raging fury, the landlord, a big tough man, well able to look after himself, brought his elbow hard back into the 'Bruiser's' belly making him crouch over gasping for breath. 'Out back, both un yo'. No brawling in my tavern.'
The next thing I knew I was being pushed and pulled through the door and onto the cobbled back yard. Everybody in the tavern followed, pushing and making bets as to whether I would still be on my feet after a minute with the 'Bruiser'. Surrounded by a crowd eager to see blood and yelling 'Ring! Ring!' I fronted the scowling face of my opponent. While men pushed against each other to form a ring, with slow deliberation he proceeded to take off his coat, neckerchief and shirt, displaying a battle-scarred chest and bulging muscles on his arms. When I followed suit, he watched me with a smirk on his lips, confident that he would soon have me once more on my back and could this time kick my head in without any interference from the landlord.
'He's got a skin like a woman,' he scoffed when he saw me stripped to the waist and, without any warning, came at me with flying fists. I was quicker in the eye and lighter on my feet than he and had no difficulty in hopping out of the way as he stumbled past me. Turning round he growled, 'Stand up and fight like a man, yo' white livered skunk.'
With a snarling curse he rushed at me again. This time his flailing fists struck me about the head with thudding blows that nearly knocked me senseless. I was deafened on one side when his fist struck hard on my ear. Mouth cut and blood flowing from my nose, I was reeling about in all directions. All around me there was a roaring sea of faces, yelling at me like demons out of hell.
Someone stuck out a foot and I tripped and fell to my knees. Determined to avoid a kick to the head by the 'Bruiser', I twice struggled quickly to my feet but was knocked down each time by sledgehammer blows to my face. When he beat me down a third time I made my way on my hands and knees towards the crowd of spectators who ringed us, hoping to find some way of getting away from this merciless battering.
Words were spluttering from my mouth; I didn't know if I was begging for mercy, cursing or praying as I was lifted to my feet by some on-looker who had no intention of allowing me to escape between his legs. Through misty eyes I saw the 'Bruiser' with swinging fists rushing towards me once more. Ducking just a split second before those fists could reach my face, I had the satisfaction of seeing the 'Bruiser' unable to pull up in time, go over the top of me and into the crowd. Striking out left and right with his clenched knuckles, he brought yells and cries of anguish from three or four men who fell struggling in a heap. The man who had lifted me to my feet got the worst of it and lay under the other men, knocked out senseless. I took the opportunity to wipe the sweat and blood from my face and retire to the other side of the ring of faces to await the 'Bruiser' while he struggled to his feet.
He had his back to me while he harangued the crowd with abuse and curses. Gathering up what little strength I had left in my limbs, I ran across and struck him in the back of the neck with tremendous force. He fell into the crowd once more. This time a number of them got their boots into him before he could get to his feet and
