Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden

of every kind of perversion from her youth up, she at last finished by obtaining the sexual orgasm only by thinking of those people with whom she was not familiar. President R . . . . . . . t, E . . . . d VII, in spite of his impotence, the Czar, the Khe- dive, and other poxy potentates thus fell easy vic- tims to her lewd importunities. Malheur ! in her later days she caught the King of E . . . . . d’s impo- tence, and was compelled to the end of her life — for the disease proved intractable — to solace her- self as best she could with the cold comfort of a common clicket. Take out that bald-headed hermit ! (He inter- rupted himself) Whack it up ! Wallop it in ! What’s the nanny-goat for, you pimp, if you can’t go tail- twitching her hairy old tuzzy-muzzy ? You shall suck the oysters out of the kidney pudding if you’re good. Now — my boy ! I complied with dignity, and in a moment found the Archbishop on my back gripping my hair with one violent hand and grappling at my breasts with the other, while his sharp-beaked pond snipe tore open the folds of my wrinkled arse, ill protected by their six weeks’ leaving of shit, and began pumping out its short and spitty spend with the sound of a kettle seething and crackling. Enough ! I cried, and wedged a lusty turd against his tapering touch-trap. But I had to do with a past master at love’s masonry. With a swift corkscrew motion of his masterly quim-stake he withdrew the opposi- tion, and transferring it to his hand, smeared it over my face, to teach me manners, as he said. But if he was clever, I was at least the repre- sentative of solid British doggedness. Turd after turd I launched adown my now ruptured rec- tum ; turd after turd he withdrew, and returned to the charge. It was a strange conflict : but wit and skill must ever win against mere brute obstinacy : I resorted to finesse. Archbishop ! I pleaded, clearing [23]