22
Oct
15

weedy

Stepbrothers

3.  Dungeon games

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“How’s a yellow-belly gonna know how a real man feels?”
The dim-wit looked pleased with his logic.  So did his sergeant  ..  seeing the chance ….
“Maybe you’ve got yourself a point there, lad.”
The sergeant still had Maciste gripped by his solid shaft.  As if crushing him there could squeeze more drool of out the prisoner.

Maciste too was dismayed how easily his realm had been overwhelmed.  But it had been fortuitously planned.  He had been sent away.  And why suspect a grieving widow?  Why give a second thought to her countrymen arriving to honour the dead king.  Come to grieve.
Come to conquer.  Headed-up by the dead king’s wife  ..  Maciste’s father’s murderer.  Why should people think they were being invaded?  At the time of their king’s funeral.

“Weedy arseholes like this.”
The moronic soldier was into his ponderous stride.
“Not a fucking-good hard-on between the lot of them.  What’s this prick gonna know?
He sniggered.
“Wouldn’t know a real man’s boner if ya stuck it in his gob.”

 

 

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