“Oh, Brother
Ilirium, let’s do it again,” cried Sister Dunn. “I never knew it would be such
fun with men.”
“Dear
Sister, haven’t you had enough? I’m really spent and you are a little rough.”
“Hell and
damnation. Don’t you be talking about cessation. I’ve lived a life of habit in
a habit. Now rise to the occasion!”
“Twice in
the garden, twice on the floor, twice in my bed and you still want more?”
“Stop your
fussing. I don’t want to hear a peep. Now satisfy me or I’ll remove it while
you’re asleep.”
Ilirium felt
a chill and cowered
As it
suddenly became apparent that a maniac had been deflowered
He hadn’t
expected her to fall for his charm
And there
hadn’t been any cause for alarm
Just another
conquest
Another topping
But now he
was mortified
As his pride
was flopping
Something
that has never happened before
Even on a
drunken night with a pockmarked whore
Hardly
surprising
But to
Ilirium it was so demoralising
Never had he
been asked for so much more
And now the
act of pleasure had become a chore
“I said rise
to the occasion. Don’t keep me waiting in anticipation!”
Ilirium
looked down and yelled with frustration
And her
scathing taunts increased his degradation
But
unexpectedly he felt movement
And smiled
with relief when he saw inflation
The nun
clapped her hands and squealed with glee. “Come, dear Ilirium. Come to me!”
Ilirium did
what had to be done
But he had
to think of a way of getting rid of the nun
Little did
he know that help was at hand
From the
latest arrival from the Nordic land
A tower of a
man by the name of Derek
Viking
warrior and brother of Erik
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