U.S.A. Harlots ~vs~ Dastardly Brits

[Annabelllee2003]

There you go Tara - there's a dear...

And I watch Ms Tara step out the cave and move toward the drunken bums... I laugh when she kicks a boot then the other.. they are out rather like Aunt Mamie after eating a black forest cake, (diabetic you know)... And her eyes rolled up just like Starkie's!

The gusting, raspy, odiferous snore of Sir Float cuts through the night like big hairy farts.

Motioning for Tara to hurry, she grabs Sir Starchy-shorts and drags him back to the cave. His head bobbing over stones and he snorts like a McCoy with moonshine.

Minnie and me are a-drinking Mimosa's while Tara ties 'im and gags him.

Freeing a maidenly belch, I rise to attend to Sir Three-sheets in the out yonder... whilst Minnie and Tara and could that be MS BB sliding in? string up a nekked, slumbering Sir Swarmy-butt. Have to admit he's got a cute tushie...

Divesting Sir Flies-crooked of his togs, I wrestle him till I got him as I want him... staked out like a tent in the boondocks. And I sit and take a sip of his rum... Looky that cod piece.. Glad I have my eyebob, else I would have missed it!

Hope they both wake soon - I don't want them to miss a thing..

 

[Fly-me]

Arseing about

The noble Sir Flyme lounges casually against his washing machine and contemplates the scene below him, while casually scratching his arse.

Suddenly realising that he is still airborne he stops lounging and clutches the handle bars, drawing himself once more safely aboard.

‘Me thinks it’s time to sort these harlots out’ he ruminates. They have, understandably, been forced to call for help. He sees Sir Starknuts is still throwing railway sleepers around and has got himself into a bit of a pickle. Some drunken Sir Flyme lookalike soldier has unfortunately got himself hog-tied by Annabikerack who is sitting on his face. In his drunken state he thinks he has fallen into the Grand Canyon.

They cast spells and generally cheat their way out of trouble so the Great Sir Flyme decides to summon a bit of his own magic up - in the shape of the notorious Sorcerer Shagnasty and his apprentice Grunchfuttock.

Muttering a powerful, ancient British incantation he closes one eye and farts. Immediately, in a cloud of shit and feathers, the terrible Sorcerer appears with Grunchfuttock close behind him.

‘You sent for me milord?’

‘Yeah, I have work for thee to do. You see yonder Colonial strumpet witches? I want them stripped and hog tied for my pleasure within the hour’.

‘No problem.’ cackles Shagnasty. ‘And my reward………?’
‘Whatever you desire’

‘I would like a piece of that donkey over there’

‘You mean ‘Ass’’?.

‘Yes, sire’ that ass.

‘Help yourself to as many pieces of Annabikeracks ass as you like. She has plenty to spare - and probably won’t feel a thing.’

 

[Annabelllee2003]

well, well.. One small wank is as good as another.

And I wouldn't notice, the diddling roughly the equivalent of a flea on an ele-fant's ass.

Grunchfuttock is no match for me! Never, I say.

And when the cheeky bugger comes close, I'll send him back into Sir Fly-me's butt with the speed of bullet.

So ... THERE.

Gonna go rest now. Hah.