14 February 2008
Likely in Love
February 14th, 1857.
It will come as no surprise to those who know me that I find myself inundated with Valentine’s Day cards every February the fourteenth. From anonymous declarations of love, to heavily-scented letters from female admirers begging me to deposit my noble seed inside their wanton mimsies, I receive them all by the sack-load. Naturally, as befitting such a well-bred gentleman as myself, I try and respond to each and every missive, a task that can leave my letter-writing hand severely cramped, and my ball-bags considerably strained.
This year was no different, with the usual avalanche of amourous advances pouring through my letter-box this very morning. My poor post-man found himself so exhausted by delivering my mountain of mail that he collapsed soon after, and had to be rushed to hospital to be revived.
One particular letter caught my ennobled eyeball this morn; an invitation of intercourse from the most desirable Dame Elizabeth Spodgebucket, wife of Sir Hardy Spodgebucket, the renowned entrepreneur and business-man. It seemed that Sir Spodgebucket was having trouble satisfying his lady, leading her to contact with me with a view to arranging a heated night of passion and a rigourous pumping. The nude lithograph of the comely Baroness which she enclosed with her letter sealed the deal, and so I sent her a telegram informing her that I would be delighted to be at her service, and that she should expect me and my mighty Lord Palmerston by six o’clock that evening.
“How do I look?” I asked my miserable man-servant, Botter, as I swept into the living-room fully resplendent in one of my finest suits.
“Very good, milord.” Botter replied.
“Thank you, Botter, although I dare say you could sound slightly more enthusiastic and aroused,” I replied, as I straightened up my neck-tie. “And do you have any plans for this special evening of love?”
“Well I – “
“No, of course you don’t. You are repellent and disgusting, and as desirable as finding a seeping pustule on the end of one’s cock. Now, tell me again – how do I look?”
“Fine,” Botter muttered.
“Gah! You are utterly useless, man! I can see that if I what an opinion worth hearing than I shall have to consult with myself,” I snapped as I strode over to a large, full-length mirror on the other side of the room. “I know gorgeousness when I see it!”
I stopped to admire myself in the mirror, but was not quite prepared for just how admirable my reflection was to be. As I gazed upon my image in the mirror’s glass, I felt my todger twitch with excitement.
It was love and completely hard-cocked lust at first sight.
“Good heavens!” I cried, as I reached out and laid a hand upon my mirror-image. “I am in incredibly fuckable form to-night, I must say! I mean, look at that firm jawline! Behold that luxuriant moustache!” I angled my posterior towards the mirror. “Egads! And I have an arse that simply begs to be covered in honey and licked clean by a thousand hungry whores. I am looking bastard-hot, and no mistake!”
By this point, my Lord Palmerston had become so engorged that he was himself touching the glass, as if he wanted to penetrate my reflection right there and then. I knew what had to be done.
“Botter,” I said quietly. “Leave me. I have some business to attend to.”
“There we are, you ravishing beast,” I purred, as I lit a series of candles dotted about the room. “It is just you and me now. We are all alone.”
I flung myself down on my chaise-longue, in front of which I had repositioned my full-length mirror, to better view my glorious – now naked – form.
“Why, you are surely the most handsome creature upon the face of the earth,” I smiled. My reflection smiled back; adorable dimples appearing in its cheeks. “Good God! You are going to get the pumping of your life, you devil you!” I cried.
I sat back on the chaise-longue and took my throbbing manhood firmly in both hands. Then, without drawing my gaze away from my stunning reflection, I began to masturbate like a fiend.
Oh, dear reader! What a night of onanastic delight it was! I thrashed my todger soundly for hours upon end, and in a variety of different positions to boot. Standing up, sitting down, bent over my desk, lying on the floor, hanging over the back of my couch, squatting over a mirror, up against a stuffed tiger, perched atop a book-case and even two times inside a suit of armour. Truly, this was more than just a quick wank. It was full-blown intercourse; beautiful, impassioned love-making with someone I adored unwaveringly – myself.
As I finished my final ejaculations, Botter knocked at the door to remind me of my engagement with Dame Spodgebucket. I cursed loudly, for I had quite forgotten about the good lady Spodgebucket and her sex-starved quim. I leapt to my feet, bundled up my clothes in my arms, and dashed out of the room.
“Botter,” I said as I passed my bewildered man-servant, “I am going for a quick bath before I head on out for the rest of the night. In the mean-time, you might like to grab a mop and a bucket and clean up the living room. I am afraid I got rather over-excited, and have rather plastered the room with my peer-paste.”
I finally made my engagement with the delectable Dame Spodgebucket at eight-thirty, and immediately fell into bed with her and gave her a jolly fine pounding. But, although she was most desirable and well worth a good, hard rogering, all the time that I was with her, I was thinking of me.
Good crikey, I really am a damned fine piece of arse.
What with it being the season of love and romance, I should just like to take a moment to give a few honourable mentions to those fine ladies I have recently encountered, and whom I have deemed to be entirely exquisite and with whom I would very much like to procreate with, given half a chance.
So, in no particular order, here are those fine filleys upon whom I would like to spread my love:
Nurse Myra; the delightful Claire; Chelle, The Offended Blogger; Dame Beenzzz; JD of I Do Things; Diane Aldred from Much of Muchness; the ever-radiant Paula; the delightful Valerie Morrison; and dear Lady Terri (just do not tell Lord Lobo!)
Heavens, simply writing that list has made me stiffen to attention like an old war veteran. Truly, they are all most trouser-moistingly magnificent.
The lucky recipients of my love may like to place this delightful little pictorial award upon their respective web-logs, if they so desire, thus garnering them instant respect and admiration from their readers:
Happy Valentines, my dears! And Happy Valentines to all my humpable readers, be you female or male. There is a lot of love here, and it is all contained within my magnificent scrotum.
- Lord Likely.
Those of you who have not masturbated so regularly so as to diminish your eye-sight completely, will have noticed that there have been a few aesthetic changes around here, as well as the introduction of an astonishing new About Page. Please do take a moment to admire the fresh decor, and do let us know what you think. As long as your thoughts are firmly in the positive, that is.
The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely has been the recipient of another smashing little review this week, courtesy of Blog Fiction, which confirms what we’d all suspected for a long while: that his lordship is fabulous.
Also many thanks to Renal Failure for bestowing a fine award upon his lordship. He is naturally very grateful, and wishes to pass it on to his feisty female friends highlighted above, in the hope it should lead to intercourse.
Next time in The Astonishing Adventures of Lord Likely: something astonishing, no doubt.
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