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"Never again shall the mighty ones be assailed," I suavely asserted.
Bingo! The woman I'd been hitting on, indifferent up until now, was suddenly attentive. So that was her game, eh? Suited me fine, just fine...
"Too powerful are they," I went on. "Too well-armed, too well-trained, too well-prepared for battle." Her eyes began to sparkle and she moistened her lips unconsciously. Encouraged, I took a gulp of my Funtini and continued. "Hark! From the battlements of Cth'a'wnor to the naval regiments in West Thanebury, we shall descry and desclaim the glories of the Elder Council and their Minions. Zounds!"
Now she was giving me an unmistakably lascivious smile. Time to pull out the heavy artillery...I saluted smartly and my voice and bearing became increasingly martial. "Praised be the valiant ones who lift staff and sword against the cursed regime of Pharanxia!"
Bullseye. She leaned back on the barstool, legs slightly open and eyes visibly dilated with lust. Her breathing was uneven and I was becoming affected too--it was getting harder to concentrate on my patter. "Wilifred the Wicked, your impertinences will be punished with--with--blows and, uh, lashings," I tried. No good...she frowned, and seemed to recede into herself slightly. My mind raced. "Er...into the dungeon of Pthulon shalt ye be cast for some twenty year...mayhaps more." Nothing. Shit. I redoubled my efforts, at the same time hopping up and down in an attempt to remove my pants and boxers without taking my shoes off. My voice was rising in pitch and volume. "Summon the yeomantry! Dragoon! Uh, Monster Manual! Hit points!"
This did the trick. Her last vestige of resistance crumbled, and we began to hyperactively fornicate on the pool table.
"I am Mildrod the Magnificent!" I cried mid-thrust. This sent her into the first of a series of violent, shuddering orgasms. God do they love that kind of thing.
Date Written: December 09, 2003
Author: Jon Matza
Average Vote: 4.4