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As I meandered home through the grave yard, struggling to undo the knot I had left myself on my hockey shorts, so that I might express my fluid bloatedness, I stepped on a snail. Not full on although it was a crushing that would leave a survivor without his (actually I cannot be sure if it was of the male or female persuasion) home and probably doomed to be some keen bird’s early morning breakfast. As I urinated on a tree it occurred to me that the truly ‘undertrodden’ are not the plebiscites who can barely afford a can of Tennents Super Strength Lager because they are socially abused by the high and mighty, but the snails. I step on at least one a day. It is not really my/our fault as the little slimy bastards get everywhere. Just to round it up, as I put myself away and moved toward the wrought iron gate of the churchyard, I stepped on another. If it turns out that Buddhism is the one true and only valid belief system then I am in the shit. I will most likely come back as a snail only to be trodden on at the first available opportunity by some drunken, wobbly, size fourteen behemoth. Such is life. Actually, no it isn’t.

So anyway. This is for you. You know who you are. Thanks for those extracts from the Literary Sex Awards, or something. I thought most of them were fairly shite, but I hugely enjoyed the Marxist’s Orgasm. That tickled me. Unfortunately, all my quality pornography and erotica is locked away up in the attic of my parent's house as, at the moment, they fail to outdo my imagination in the making of wood and Mum used to keep arranging them chronologically while I was out, so I only managed to find the extract below. It is from the book, the title below, which I picked up in a local second hand book shop. It’s about ten years old and it is as mad as sand. It is all I have to offer in return.

“The Sorrows of Young Gunther" Torrington Press.
By Sidney Banks

"The letter continued.

“Go with it” the sister whispered in my ear as she tugged at its lobe, nibbled on it a little and then plunged in her ravenous tongue, deep and pushed and probed so hard she tickled my brain. I giggled inanely and tugged at my bonds half-heartedly. Wrists and ankles were firmly tied with electrical wire to the bed frame propped up against the old oak tree in the yard. I was tripping so strongly now. I felt my bladder loosen and I could taste metal in my mouth. I was very excited.

Maud stood up and brushed the dirt from her apron and with her head leaning to one side appreciated her crucifiction. Then she turned to her younger sister and put her hand behind her neck and pulled her head towards hers, her sister’s lips onto her own. They kissed deep and hard. The sister’s hands pushed aside the apron and her fingers melted into Maud’s alabaster breasts. They rubbed themselves against each other like cheese against a cheese grater and |I could see smoke escape from between their crotches as they breathed air from each other. Maud broke the embrace and between pants said, “Stay here and look after him Louie”. She took her sister’s hand and they turned their beautiful bottoms toward me, pert cheeks made rosy by the night’s chill, and skipped hand in hand to the back door and inside.

Whines and grunts coming from the ground made my head loll downward until my chin smacked on my chest. The big Doberman sat between my ankles looking up at me with great doey eyes. I whistled to him and said “Woof.” As if on cue he started licking maniacally at my testes, spit and flobber flying everywhere, coating my thighs. His tongue felt how a warm and soft raw beefsteak might feel slapping against my balls and I clearly remember smiling from ear to ear. On one occasion when I was a child I had enjoyed becoming intimate with the suction tube on mother’s Hoover until both my balls had become stuck in it and my ball-bag had ripped in places as I tugged at it like a child possessed. Now as the springs pressed into the flesh of my back and the dog’s heavy tongue slapped my balls up and down from between my legs to my abdomen and the acid coursed throughout, I was shaking with sensations that superceded those of that childhood terror. I could feel my dick awaken and harden and throb with the onslaught. I could hear my encouraging tone as I spoke to the dog as a coach might to his star quarterback in the national state finals, eking out every last ounce of effort. “Good boy, good boy, good boy Louie! Who’s a good boy then? You are! Yes, you are! Go on Louie, you can do it, you are a good, good, good boy!” Hard as rock and nearing utter satisfaction I heard the door open and Maud call,” Dinner Louie.” at the same time as the light from inside illuminated the Doberman’s arsenal of teeth, incisors, nails and knives. Too far-gone by this point, I groaned deep and long and erupted forth, my semen shooting in streams far off into the distance and over the horizon. The dog gave me one last lick and then bit down on my veined sausage.

As I write this from the bed in the hospital that I find myself locked in I swear by all that I hold sacred that Maud, her sister and Louie gave me the best orgasm of my life. By all rationale, it was probably my last. At least now I can put all my concentration into my studies. Yours, G. E. Werther”

Frank put down the letter and inhaled on the butt of his cigarette that had already burnt out in his fingers as he had read, and blinked.”

Crazy shit. Not particularly arousing in my eyes, but a new take on the whole drug induced incestuous bestiality scarification lesbian S and M thing. Good book too.


that was great. in a twisted kind of way it made me laugh.

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