Erebus
08-17-2006, 12:41 PM
While I struggle to compose the further adventures of young Florence, currently adrift aboard the good ship Dingle…
Does anyone remember Hedonistic Hal, who used to post on the old facesitting board? This was in the ‘Golden Age’ of Crazylegs, Dark Rider, Bald Benny and others whose names escape me. Strict Susan wasn’t even a twinkle in her own eye back then, though I often detect in her style similarities with Looseliving Len, one of the more avowedly academic authors. (Or am I thinking of Alliterative Alan?)
Anyhow, HH once posted a short thread under the title, ‘The Book of Bizarre Parts 35 to 4’. I came across it while tidying up my hard drive. There’s no obvious theme to his stuff. By his own admission, he only wrote while under the influence of illegal substances which may account for the nonsensical and occasionally rambling nature of his prose. Also, the way the names chop and change. All very surreal! It jumps about a bit and doesn’t always make sense but I thought I’d post it for old times’ sake.
For those of you too young to remember him, here’s all I could find. It’s not really my cup of tea, but if anyone has more of his stuff hidden away, feel free to add it here. I don’t know what happened to him. If he’s around still, this post may tempt him back, unless he’s gone to the moon. Nothing would surprise me.
THE BOOK OF BIZARRE PARTS 35 to 4
(63) IT LIVES BENEATH HER SKIRT
“Sister Lewis to the Smother Room! Sister Lewis to the Smother Room!”
The tannoy shrieked its sad, silvery sigh. Matron was at her wits’ end. Wit upon wit and then more. The patient struggled like a Wild Man – from the land of the Wild Men themselves, where the Wild Men live. They could scarcely hold him down. No way, and they knew, for every way had been tried. Every buckle on the bed had broken. Big buckles, too. From a shop. It was all she and the five young nurses could do to –
A familiar shape flew into the room. Matron’s voice rose loud and clear, like a dolphin at sunset. “Sister Barker! Thank God! We didn’t think you’d reach us in time! And time is all we have. For without it we are nothing. Not even that.”
The raven-haired nurse drank in the scene of pandemonium. It was like wine to her gut. Corked wine. Chateau ’84 if she were any judge, and it excited her. Warmed her blood. Brought life to her loins. She felt a familiar moistness. The moistness of life itself. It settled in her damp place.
“Has no one tried to sit on him?” she cried. “This man must be subdued at once!”
“Nurse Millett tried,’ said Matron breathlessly. “But she only has a tiny bottom. The villain pushed her off.”
Sister Jones reached for her hem and hoisted her skirt to her waist. The vee of her flame-coloured vulva shone proud and plump for all the world to see. “This is a job for a fully grown woman!” she cried. “Hold the patient down! Nurses! Sit astride his chest and hold him fast. Let us see how he copes with my huge, hairy crack!”
With the nurses pinning him flat, Sister Sasta flung her long, muscular legs around the man’s neck, trapping him in the canyon of her womanhood.
He stared up, aware of the monstrous canopy of female flesh opening up around him. “Dear God above!” screamed he. “Dear God above!”
“Not God above!” cried Sister Mould, taking hold of her hips and dragging her sodden cheeks apart. “Arse above!” she screamed. “The arse of a woman!” she yelled again. “There is no hope for you now! No hope at all! No hope for any man!”
“I surrender!” he cried. “I discharge myself fully!”
“These are crazy words!” said the woman with many names. “You play with my mind! For that you must be smothered! Hold him fast, ladies, while I perform my woman’s work upon his upturned face!”
“Please, no!” he cried. ‘Not woman’s work! Not woman’s work, I beg you!”
She took no notice, plunged down her arse and held him in her big sticky crack…
(7) IT IS BETWEEN HER LEGS!
“This tea is cold!” he told the waitress. “In my day you would have been dismissed without wages.”
“Please, sir, do not tell the manager!” she wept. “He will put me across his knee and spank me with a silver dollar.”
“You shall not be spanked!” he said. “I was a patient once in a hospital where a sister sat on me. Now I shall be sat upon again! By a waitress without knickers!”
“I wear knickers!” she cried. “I always wear knickers! As did my mother before me and hers before her. My aunts are also of this persuasion.”
“No longer!” cried he, and thrust his big bold hands beneath her skirt, tugging at her cotton hem, pulling down her lady’s pants, all that stood between him and a sweet suffocation.
“You animal!” she sang, above the scream of kettles as they boiled – for the door to the kitchen remained open throughout. “A man who removes a lady’s pants deserves to be sat upon and smothered like a patient in a hospital by a nurse with a large bottom while other nurses and a plump, bespectacled matron hold him down.”
“You would not dare!” he cried. “It was only a cup of tea!”
“Prepare to be straddled!” cried she. And what she said, she did. And so…
(87) SITTED ON!!!!!!
He lay full length upon his back
His face within her sticky crack
She rocked and rolled and licked her lips
And held him fast with fleshy hips
She pressed her bumhole on his nose
Her tiny, sweet, volcanic rose
Her pussy with its hairy coat
She forced into his open throat
I sit, I sit she cried aloud
My pussy and my bottom proud
I take your last, your final breath
With arse I smother you to death
For I am a waitress who was once a nurse and this is my song
THE END
Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I think you’ll agree, it makes my stuff look positively normal.:dance:
Does anyone remember Hedonistic Hal, who used to post on the old facesitting board? This was in the ‘Golden Age’ of Crazylegs, Dark Rider, Bald Benny and others whose names escape me. Strict Susan wasn’t even a twinkle in her own eye back then, though I often detect in her style similarities with Looseliving Len, one of the more avowedly academic authors. (Or am I thinking of Alliterative Alan?)
Anyhow, HH once posted a short thread under the title, ‘The Book of Bizarre Parts 35 to 4’. I came across it while tidying up my hard drive. There’s no obvious theme to his stuff. By his own admission, he only wrote while under the influence of illegal substances which may account for the nonsensical and occasionally rambling nature of his prose. Also, the way the names chop and change. All very surreal! It jumps about a bit and doesn’t always make sense but I thought I’d post it for old times’ sake.
For those of you too young to remember him, here’s all I could find. It’s not really my cup of tea, but if anyone has more of his stuff hidden away, feel free to add it here. I don’t know what happened to him. If he’s around still, this post may tempt him back, unless he’s gone to the moon. Nothing would surprise me.
THE BOOK OF BIZARRE PARTS 35 to 4
(63) IT LIVES BENEATH HER SKIRT
“Sister Lewis to the Smother Room! Sister Lewis to the Smother Room!”
The tannoy shrieked its sad, silvery sigh. Matron was at her wits’ end. Wit upon wit and then more. The patient struggled like a Wild Man – from the land of the Wild Men themselves, where the Wild Men live. They could scarcely hold him down. No way, and they knew, for every way had been tried. Every buckle on the bed had broken. Big buckles, too. From a shop. It was all she and the five young nurses could do to –
A familiar shape flew into the room. Matron’s voice rose loud and clear, like a dolphin at sunset. “Sister Barker! Thank God! We didn’t think you’d reach us in time! And time is all we have. For without it we are nothing. Not even that.”
The raven-haired nurse drank in the scene of pandemonium. It was like wine to her gut. Corked wine. Chateau ’84 if she were any judge, and it excited her. Warmed her blood. Brought life to her loins. She felt a familiar moistness. The moistness of life itself. It settled in her damp place.
“Has no one tried to sit on him?” she cried. “This man must be subdued at once!”
“Nurse Millett tried,’ said Matron breathlessly. “But she only has a tiny bottom. The villain pushed her off.”
Sister Jones reached for her hem and hoisted her skirt to her waist. The vee of her flame-coloured vulva shone proud and plump for all the world to see. “This is a job for a fully grown woman!” she cried. “Hold the patient down! Nurses! Sit astride his chest and hold him fast. Let us see how he copes with my huge, hairy crack!”
With the nurses pinning him flat, Sister Sasta flung her long, muscular legs around the man’s neck, trapping him in the canyon of her womanhood.
He stared up, aware of the monstrous canopy of female flesh opening up around him. “Dear God above!” screamed he. “Dear God above!”
“Not God above!” cried Sister Mould, taking hold of her hips and dragging her sodden cheeks apart. “Arse above!” she screamed. “The arse of a woman!” she yelled again. “There is no hope for you now! No hope at all! No hope for any man!”
“I surrender!” he cried. “I discharge myself fully!”
“These are crazy words!” said the woman with many names. “You play with my mind! For that you must be smothered! Hold him fast, ladies, while I perform my woman’s work upon his upturned face!”
“Please, no!” he cried. ‘Not woman’s work! Not woman’s work, I beg you!”
She took no notice, plunged down her arse and held him in her big sticky crack…
(7) IT IS BETWEEN HER LEGS!
“This tea is cold!” he told the waitress. “In my day you would have been dismissed without wages.”
“Please, sir, do not tell the manager!” she wept. “He will put me across his knee and spank me with a silver dollar.”
“You shall not be spanked!” he said. “I was a patient once in a hospital where a sister sat on me. Now I shall be sat upon again! By a waitress without knickers!”
“I wear knickers!” she cried. “I always wear knickers! As did my mother before me and hers before her. My aunts are also of this persuasion.”
“No longer!” cried he, and thrust his big bold hands beneath her skirt, tugging at her cotton hem, pulling down her lady’s pants, all that stood between him and a sweet suffocation.
“You animal!” she sang, above the scream of kettles as they boiled – for the door to the kitchen remained open throughout. “A man who removes a lady’s pants deserves to be sat upon and smothered like a patient in a hospital by a nurse with a large bottom while other nurses and a plump, bespectacled matron hold him down.”
“You would not dare!” he cried. “It was only a cup of tea!”
“Prepare to be straddled!” cried she. And what she said, she did. And so…
(87) SITTED ON!!!!!!
He lay full length upon his back
His face within her sticky crack
She rocked and rolled and licked her lips
And held him fast with fleshy hips
She pressed her bumhole on his nose
Her tiny, sweet, volcanic rose
Her pussy with its hairy coat
She forced into his open throat
I sit, I sit she cried aloud
My pussy and my bottom proud
I take your last, your final breath
With arse I smother you to death
For I am a waitress who was once a nurse and this is my song
THE END
Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I think you’ll agree, it makes my stuff look positively normal.:dance: