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“Ah Lord Pinkerton?” an emboldened mature lady around my mother’s age accosted me as I lounged amiably enough with my cronies at the Misses Fotheringay’s ball at Southam Courtenay, “Have you met my daughter Molly?”
I looked past the matron and there through the fug of intoxication I believed I beheld an angel, a great vision in gleaming virginal white, and at second glance an improbably plump one, “No, I haven’t had the pleasure,” I agreed uncertainly for the sweet Mull-berry wine had had its effect on me.
“I should hope not!” Algy declared, “For she may have two legs, two arms, two bosoms and two eyes, though remarkably dis similar, but two chins Johnno, well you must draw a line somewhere!”
“Ah,” I agreed with a contented burp, “Indeed.”
Poor Molly turned and fled as fast as her considerable bulk would allow.
“You sir are an abomination!” the mother averred.
“Fattening her up for Christmas,” Bobby Fawkes chipped in, “I like a plump bird at Christmas!”
“I’d like to sit down,” I suggested as I regretted mixing French and English wines so early in the evening.
“You slight me sir!” the matron avowed.
“Tell me,” I asked, “You have but one chin, a thin weasel like face, a narrow waist, thin spindly legs beneath that gown I’ll wager, so how did you bear a baby elephant for a daughter?” It was said by way of an honest search for the truth.
“I shall not remain to be insulted!” the matron replied.
“Oh, shall you go elsewhere?” Bobby enquired.
“Oh it was no insult Madam,” Algy insisted, “No Johnno seeks to bed you.”
She half smiled, “Indeed, then I shall inform my husband, Lord Garth.”
“That great oaf,” Samuel Verney added, “I should quake in my boots if it were me.”
“Madam,” I added, “I have no great desire to make love to you,” I insisted, “Though I should certainly prefer you in my bed to that great ox of a daughter, for she would surely break the bed frame!” It seemed funny at the time, you understand but the next thing Algy had to step forward to stop the matron striking me.
I can not recall much of the evening after that, but in the fullness of time I awoke in a bed in the Red Lion Inn in Southam Whiston with the sun high in the noon day sky and the pipe and drum band of the Caithsby Militia playing inside my skill.
“Oh my head,” I croaked.
“So you are not dead?” an unfriendly female voice boomed around inside my skull.
“No madam.” I agreed, “Though if I spent the night with you I wish I were.”
“Indeed,” she boomed,
“Can you please keep the noise down.” I asked, “My head is bursting!”
“You insulted my daughter Molly,” she insisted.
“Oh god, Mrs Garth,” I groaned.
“Lady Garth,” she corrected me, “What do you intend to do about it?” she demanded.
“Absolutely nothing madam, for she is fat as a pig,” I explained, “I own I’d rather kiss a pig than Molly, on account of the lesser number of chins they display.”
“Very well then,” she said and began to shout, “Unhand me you drunken oaf,” and with theatrical flair she tore at her bodice and through its fine quaity and exquisite needle work she dislodged but one solitary button where she sought to expose her bosoms to plain view.
“Lord Pinkerton I am a married woman!” she protested and right on cue my door opened and there were Molly and the Inn keeper’s maid as witness and Lord Garth himself, a frail creature of apparently octogenarian vintage though in truth he was but sixty such it was said was the voracity of Lady Garth’s night time demands that he had aged twenty years in the first six months of marriage.
“Hold hard young Pinkerton, why are you dallying with the mem sahib?” he asked.
“No idea sir,” I explained, “Your daughter is fat as a pig sir,” I said inelegantly, “Lady Garth came to remonstrate.
“Carry on then,” he said from the doorway.
“Daddy Lord Pinkerton has shown entire disrespect for myself and our family,” Molly cried.
“But you are as fat as a pig dearest,” Lord Garth admitted and nodding towards his wife he continued, “And watch that one for she’ll eat you alive sir,” he added as an after thought.
“But my honour, challenge him Oswald,” Lady Garth insisted.
“Challenge, why he would win hands down,” Lord Garth averred, “No you challenge him if you see fit, I am taking a walk around the park, good day.”
Lady Garth stared in disbelief, “He,” she started to say.
“Is a very wise man, Lady Garth,” I added, “May I wish you good day?”
“No indeed you may not!” Lady Garth insisted, “Not until this matter is settled.”
I groaned, my head was far from cleared yet, “Then allow me some privacy that I may dress,”
I asked reasonably enough.
“No, I shall remain,” Lady Garth insisted.
“Then so be it,” I suggested and I pulled my night shirt clean over my head to stand naked, sadly unaware that my cronies had writ “Pinkertons Prong a shilling an hour,” across my belly in lamp black in the depths of the night.
“Oh!” Lady Garth cried in surprise, “Its huge!”
“Oh, its huge!” canlı bahis cried Molly in alarm,
“Oohh, its huge,” the maid said admiringly as sensing the scent of a woman my prong raised himself to his full eight inches and more of extension.
“Put it away sir you will frighten the horses,” Lord Garth said as he returned to seek the cause of the commotion, “Or else do someone an injury.”
“Ooohh yes what an injury,” the maid simpered.
“Damn it where’s me breeches,” I cursed as my night shirt descended to drape itself around the root of my prong leaving him straining still.
“Marigold, stop staring,” Lord Garth councelled, “Wife come away!” he repeated.
“Mummy did he do it?” a fresh voice asked.
I looked an another maid had appeared, dressed in a simple white shift, her face like the mother perhaps yet twenty years her junior, blue eyed and blonde of hair, svelte where the sister was porcine, well proportioned where the sister was porcine, fair of face where the sister was distinctly porcine, and she regaled my prong with a steely gaze as her hair flowed untamed around her shoulders.
“Look away girl!” Lord Garth cried, but to no avail and though I knew it not at once the maid was smitten.
“Uh, it’s huge!” she said, “Poor Mummy!”
“Hannah!” Lady Garth cried, “Look away, normal men are not so well endowed, so fear not.”
“Earl Marchington?” Hannah asked.
“How should I know, probably not,” Lady Garth blushed, “My Hannah is betrothed to Earl Marchington.”
“What old Freddie!” I asked.
“No the old duffer,” Hannah admitted, “Freddie’s daddy,” she continued, “He is rich, we are not.”
“Your daughter is most forward sir,” I suggested as I tried to cover my prong even as the throng pushed into my room as more joined to investigate the commotion.
“I’d be wed by now if only Molly would get herself betrothed,” Hannah argued.
“Oh I see!” the fog cleared, slowly, “And I have the only prong long enough to penetrate the voluptuous mounds of flesh that protect Molly’s ah, honour?”
“Yes in a nut shell.” Lord Garth suggested.
“Just get out all of you!” I demanded.
“Then I demand one hundred guineas of I shall report that you abused me carnally in the night!” Lady Garth said triumphantly.
“Did I?” I queried, “How?”
“Oh what a question!” she snorted.
“Indeed,” Lord Garth confessed, “There are an hundred and more that will attest to waking up with my lady Garth.”
“Silence you imbecile,” Lady Gath replied, “You make me sound like a harlot!”
I looked around, there were seven crowded into the tiny room, the box bed and ward robe encroached further and there was still no sign of my breeches, nor undergarments.
“And where exactly do you suppose we conjoined?” I asked. “On the floor?” I spread my arms wide indicating there was an insufficiency of space, “Or in the box bed?” I enquired.
“On the bed of course!” the mother insisted.
“And where should your spread legs go?” I asked.
“Oh, indeed,” Lord Garth agreed, “The sides of the box bed would impinge most painfully.”
“With Mummy on top then,” Hannah declared.
“Really,” I enquired and I lay back on the bed and showed just how tightly the sides fitted me, “And where would her knees go.?”
There was a rustle of linen, a white angel appeared and leapt upon the bed like a playful gun dog, “Like so!” Hannah insisted, and she planted a knee each side of my hip bones.
“Your mother is neither lithe nor agile as you!” I declared.
“But it is possible,” Hannah insisted.
“Hannah get down this instant!” Lady Garth cried, “You are betrothed!”
But it was all too late for she began to sink down, as as she did she pulled her shift and mine so that no one saw my prong slide up the front of her belly and all believed I had pronged her.
“Hannah!” Lady Garth cried, “Get off him this instant
“Stupid girl!” Lord Garth added.
“She must have a void like a cow if she could take that without a whimper,” the maid observed.
“Indeed,” I agreed, “Had I impaled her the whole world would have heard.”
“I stifled my scream,” Hannah suggested as she bounced ineffectually upon my loins.
“You couldn’t possibly,” I said, “I won best prong three terms running at school!”
“Yes I could!” she insisted.
“Liar!” I replied.
“Yes I could!” she challenged again, and in one ill advised movement I raised her up and as she fell I guided my prong towards her maidenhead, it parted with a scream that sent crows scattering a mile hence, “Aggghhhhhh!” she cried, “Desist I beg of you or I shall never walk again!”
“The pain will pass soon enough,” I suggested.
“I cannot bear it,” she said and the tears flowed.
“Just stay still,” I suggested as I sobered very quickly, “Perhaps your honour is intact?” I asked hopefully.
“With half your prong inside her I think not!” Lady Garth insisted.
“Half!” Hannah cried and as she stilled she found herself sinking agonisingly ever further onto my prong, providing bahis siteleri me with such exquisite pleasure that I could contain myself no further and I lay back eyes closed to enjoy the moment of expulsion.
“Oh no, don’t you dare!” Lady Garth exclaimed but suddenly my loins were pumping and a quart and more of my stickiness surged forth within poor Hannah.
“Ohhhh,” she gasped, “Mummy!”
“He’s claimed you you idiot!” Lady Garth cried, “Come away, quickly, you saw nothing nothing do you hear!” she insisted.
“Oh,” Hannah exclaimed when the door finally shut.
“Oh indeed,” I agreed.
“I am,” Hannah said quietly, “Undone,”
“No matter,” I suggested, “Get old Marchington drunk and he’ll never be any the wiser.”
“Was that only three parts in?” she asked.
“Indeed,” I agreed, “But climb off before I stiffen again.”
“Perhaps,” she said, “I don’t want to, for when shall I ever experience a prize winning prong again?”
“You Minx!” I cried, “You Jezebel,” but my prong was resurgent and speared upward into her well lubricated innards with the greatest of ease.
“Ohhh,” she gasped at the renewed intrusion, “It’s immense!”
“Is it too much?” I asked.
“Perhaps?” she said, “Perhaps not.”
“It’s not all the way in,” I explained
“Really!” she queried, “It feels like it is, and more!”
“No, it’s, the family curse,” I explained, “Few women can take the whole of a Pinkerton prong, those that can are whores,” I added, “I am cursed never to find the perfect woman who can take my entire length.”
“Then I am greatly relieved,” she said and went to raise herself up but in doing so she slipped and slid down my prong even more, “Nooooo,” she wailed but to no effect for she was so moist she slid right down to the very root of my prong, “Like that?” she asked.
“Oh gosh yes, oh Miss Garth, I am enraptured.
“I am impaled, I fear the pain will never subside,” she protested.
“Bear it stoically for indeed it will pass and for myself,” I admitted, “I am in complete ecstasy and in a moment I shall soothe your inner most parts.”
“No you must not,” she protested, but my cream was already boiling forth from my loins, “Please I pray,” she continued, “No, oh lord no,” and a great torrent gushed from me and I saw angels and the whole heavenly host clapping and cheering and Hannah’s face had not the appearance of someone in pain, oh no far from it, she was as enraptured as I.
“I fear I shall never walk properly again,” she observed, “You have ruined me utterly,” she protested, “No man shall want me now.”
“And you have shown even a slender woman might take my length and girth and bring me to the heights of ecstasy,” I explained, “Will you be my whore?”
“Yes!” she agreed, as finally she climbed free of me, “When I marry the duke I shall visit you regularly.”
“Every night?” I asked.
“Oh no, I must spend the nights with my husband,” she declared, as she tried to stem the flood of my seed busily escaping her.
“In that case marry me!” I challenged.
“I thank you for the kind offer but,” she paused, “I cannot think of a single reason to refuse, except we do not know one another or like one another or.”
“But we do fornicate amiably enough,” I interjected.
“And you will live a life of sobriety?” she asked.
“No, absolutely not!” I protested.
“And stop chasing whores?” she suggested.
“Only when you are indisposed,” I agreed.
“And will love me?” she asked.
“I can try,” I agreed.
“And you will lie and say I am beautiful,” she asked.
I looked at her, “There is no need for me to lie, you are beautiful,” I told her.
“Then so be it!” she agreed, “I don’t want to marry a duke anyway, he smells.” she confided and after a suitable period she slipped from my room.
I found my clothes at length and dressed as smartly as yesterdays attire would allow and ventured forth, my friends had already been apprised of my betrothal by my intended Miss Hannah and I sat down to my meal to answer their taunts.
“Pinkerton, what meal is this, a late break-fast or an early lunch?” some wag asked,
“I call it Brunch,” I said, “And later I shall take High Teadinner.”
“Don’t be an idiot!” Bobby Fawkes chided, “Brunch, what a ridiculous notion, but why Pinkers?” he asked.
“She took me ball deep,” I said, “Imagine, such a waife like countenance yet within there is a cleft of eight inches and more!”
“Oh?” Algy enquired, “And your means of discovery?”
“I pronged her of course!” I declared.
“Oh?” Bobby declared, “Dash it that’s a tad unsporting what with the duke having his heart set.”
“Ah well,” I said, “When it comes to estates they will always be trumped by the prong.”
“Easy for you to say Pinkers,” Sam Verney chipped in, “But what about those of us with human size prongs not the bollocks of a prize bull.”
“Well that’s hardly my problem is it?” I informed them and I tucked into my brunch while wondering if shepherds pie, fried eggs, bacon and tomato was bahis şirketleri an entirely wise choice for my meal.
The noon came and with it my departure from the Southam Courtenay and its environs and for my return home, the more enobled having stayed with the Misses Fotheringay at Sutton Courtenay Court or the lodging house in the grounds and it was from there that a very angry Earl Marchington descended to rebuke me.
“Pinkerton, where is Pinkerton,” he demanded his piggy little eyes bulging through immensely thick eyeglasses framed in the thickest frames I ever regaled as he bent his head up to comensate for his arched back and stumpy thick legs and a belly witness to seventy years and more of drinking and eating to excess.
“Here sir!” Algy announced even as I tried to slip away the back way.
“Pinkerton you cad!” he cried, “Come forth that I might have satisfaction!”
“Sir?” I said as I had to return to the dining room to face him.
“You abused my betrothed!” he accused, “I demand satisfaction!”
“Bessie the landlords daughter is very accommodating,” Bobby Fawkes suggested.
“Satisfaction sir!” he said, “A duel!”
“Indeed?” I enquired, “Why?”
“You ravished my wench!” he insisted, “Choose your weapon!”
“Prongs at dawn!” Algy suggested.
“You insult me sir,” the Earl railed. “I did not come here to be treated with insults!”
“Oh, so precisely where do you go?” Algy enquired.
“Prongs it is then sir,” I said, “We shall select two whores as like as alike as we may and the one that cries out loudest is the winner.”
“I meant the longest,” Algy muttered.
“You sir are depraved,” the Earl muttered, “Is the Landlord’s daughter abroad?” he asked, “For do you know I feel stirrings.”
“Indeed,” I agreed, “Though she is as ugly as a pig with a fragrance to match,”
“Ah, then this is she!” he agreed as he espied a well padded young woman waddling towards us, “Might I trouble you for a dalliance?” he asked his addled brain mistaking the woman for the Landlord’s daughter.
” A dalliance?” she demanded, “A dalliance!” for far from the Landlord’s daughter it was indeed Molly Garth, Hannah’s sister that had come to see me.
“You mock me!” the Earl demanded, “You think I am incapable!”
I nearly burst my sides with the efforts of stifling my laughter
“No sir, no but a dalliance?” she said.
“Dalliance, pronging, fornication, call it what you will,” he demanded, “I have stirrings and I demand satisfaction!”
“Damn it girl, my Lord Earl Marchington has needs,” I insisted, as I almost shook with laughter, “Disrobe now I say!”
“Earl?” she queried, “Earl Marchington!”
“Indeed, quickly girl,” he declared, “I have stirrings!”
Fat ugly and slow moving as she was Molly was not entirely stupid, “Oh then let me console you,” she lisped, and looked to me for assistance.
“Disrobe, use my room, no the dining table might suffice.” I suggested.
“No!” Molly protested, “I cannot!”
“Lend a hand Pinkerton, before the desire fades!” the Earl cried, and before I could react both Algy and Bobby had stepped forward and after a seconds thought so Sam came forward and they gently eased Molly towards the dining table, “Disrobe her man!” the Earl cried.
“For pities sake!” Molly cried as I watched, “Unhand me!” she cried again but to my shame I just stood aside and watched as Molly was pulled towards the table and then reversed against it and rolled on her back and it was the work of a moment to pull her skirts and underskirts up and so reveal her bloated belly and the mass of fur hiding her slot.
The Earl was now scrabbling at his boot laces, his breeches around his ankles and his prong revealed, some four or five inches in length yet improbably fat like his belly.
I looked at his prong and her belly and back again, it would never do, “On the edge of the table!” I ordered, seeing that the Earl’s prong and table stood at the same height or thereabouts and at my bidding so the mating began, a complicated affair, with Algy holding Molly’s shoulders and Sam and Bobby holding her legs asplayed as the Earl approached with his prong rampant and slid it neatly within the furs of her slot.
“Oh!” Molly gasped as the Earl claimed her.
“Like it do you wench?” The Earl asked.
Poor Molly, she knew not what to reply so she held her tongue while the Earl amused himself for a few moments until his eyes rolled signifying his moment of release and at that very moment Molly’s mother stepped into the room.
“Molly!” the mother cried.
“I say!” the Earl cried, “You might knock!”
“Un hand my daughter!” she cried.
“This is not your daughter this is the Landlord’s maid,” the Earl cried, “Can you not see she is fat as an ox and ugly as a wild boar?”
“That sir is Molly my older daughter,” Lady Garth insisted, “Now pull your breeches up sir lest the goose bumps on your backside frightens the horses.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, “Your daughter you say?” he asked.
“Yes!” Lady Garth insisted, “And you barbarians holding poor Molly down!”
“My eye she would be a great comfort of a frosty night,” the Earl confessed, “Nice and plump and willing.”
“You said she was ugly as a pig, my lord,” I reminded him.
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