tagText With AudioHay Per Ill Fool

Hay Per Ill Fool


HAY PER ILL FOOL is an April Fool's story in doggerel verse concerning a comely maid in need of hay to feed her horses, tricked by a wily carter-man, set in a galaxy much like ours but far, far away. Neither the poetry nor the message are intended to be taken seriously.

You can read the story-in-verse below for yourself, or listen to it as read in a Midwestern baritone (approximate recording time: 9 minutes).

* * * * *

Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (9 min/mp3)

* * * * *

Looking o'er her pasture a maiden did dismay

For her horses wanted feeding, she knew it by their neigh.

Her father had but recently been laid within his tomb

And her mother had not survived her journey from the womb.

She did though have her beauty, she was comely and well-shaped.

So the townsmen counted it their duty to ogle the curves her kirtle draped.

She'd said no to their advances, slapped hands off her behind,

Kneed the preacher where his pants is when he'd pulled her close to grind.

Her father had always warned her that men would try their best

To catch her in some corner and slip a snake into her nest.

Now this morn she was mourning the barn's sore lack of feed

The stallion's neigh was clear warning of the herd's digestive need.

Then she heard a hearty haling of a carter calling from his cart

Of hay packed tight by bailing. It lightened her heavy heart.

The cart man had always carted the hay to her father's barn

Though now Papa's departed, the deliveries still went on

She cried "My horses have no fodder since my Papa passed away.

I beg your kindness, Carter, since I have no coin to pay."

"Mayhap we two can strike a deal." He said, stroking chin and lower.

This maid looked to be a tasty meal and he hoped she'd be a goer.

"I oft aid maidens when distressed, and they have much to offer.

We had better get you undressed since there's no jingle in your coffer."

"Undressed!" She cried, "As in no clothes?" Panic filled her features.

"My Pa said that would cause men's hose to harbor frightening creatures

With purple heads and bulging veins that would dive inside my innards

Swifter than the long necked cranes snatch up uncareful lizards."

A well timed neigh reminded her how much the horses needed haying.

Her love for them, it binded her to the price that needed paying.

Blushing red she pulled her gown up and off her luscious body.

Only her long gold locks hung down to hide the spots that she thought naughty.

The carter stepped close to the quaking maid, shivering and goose pimpled.

He pushed away one covering braid, squeezed a cheek divinely dimpled.

The braid exposed a perfect breast, no signs of sag or wrinkle.

She felt a beating in her chest and feared she had to tinkle.

She'd never felt this way before, even before he stroked her nipple,

Except on trips to the blacksmith's store seeing his massive muscles ripple.

Since this day was the day before the start of April Second

The carter thought a little more and a plan he quickly reckoned.

He could make some cash with a trick played on a needy maiden

And leave this lovely, silly hick with his purse more heavily laden.

He slipped a hand between her thighs, wiggling fingers known to please

Then gave her a look of shocked surprise and said, "You've caught that new disease.

"But I'd better check to make quite sure." He bent to taste her virgin honey

"Disease?" She cried. "But I am pure!" He chuckled against her cunny.

"You do indeed have this curse," He shook his head in sadness.

"But things could always be much worse It's not certain to lead to madness.

For women are but carriers, to only men the itching hell comes,

Who slide their cocks past barriers into moist and slippery welcomes."

"How do you, sir, know so much about this horrible new disease?"

The maiden threw the question out as he licked her from his knees.

"Aren't you the wise young miss?" He sighed, before tonguing at her clit.

"I felt myself the agonizing piss like fire from my poor cock's slit.

A doctor did provide the cure,selling me a dozen vials.

One dose, no more and my pee was pure. It's the eleven left that need your wiles,

And ample curves and do-me eyes. We shall sell them through your offers.

I can tell you think my plan is wise to fill your horses and my coffers.

Let foolish men fall into your trap, soon they'll feel the inner hatching

Of seeds of this quick spreading clap, by morn they'll all be scratching.

And seeking out the only one who can stop their itching burn

That's me you see and it shall be fun to see the fools dancing in their turn.

You will receive a bale of hay for every paying, itching fool

Who brings a silver coin to pay to make his burning ballocks cool."

"I let them do me as they will and you will surely pay me

Hay for every fool gone ill?" "Hay per ill fool!" does say he.

"But do not start until the sun has passed beyond its zenith

This clap it is a fickle one: past noon it's at its meanest."

The carter left the naive girl to complete his clever plot,

His next stop was the Irish Pearl, to find the kind of men he sought.

The Pearl it was a lowly bar, there's one in every village.

From there his word would travel far to those whose coins he'd pillage.

He mentioned, after his first ale, a comely lass that he had met:

The loveliest blossom in the vale. And then he made a public bet.

No man in town had plowed her field, all in the pub agreed

But each a silver coin would yield to fulfill his lustful need.

The carter said he'd wait for his pay for all who tasted of her treasure

On the morning of the coming day. A coin was bargain for such pleasure.

Our maid did wait until the sun passed its highest height.

She'd made a list of everyone who'd lusted at her sight.

First she tricked the mayor, he'd been eying her for years.

From her knees she had the preacher who helped guide her by her ears.

One by one those on her list took their turn to finally handle her:

The judge, the miller of the grist, butcher, baker and the chandler.

Three farmhands she met were next, to plow her goods so ample.

They left her well and truly sexed, taking far more than a sample.

Her legs were weak, her thighs were soaked, she felt both stretched and sore.

Prodded, pricked, pleased and poked, she prayed she could last one more.

She saved Tim the blacksmith for the last; a milkmaid had warned her from him.

The lass had said she'd been aghast when she'd seen the size God made Tim.

He'd eyed her comely shape for years. His muscles made her glisten.

Though the milk-lass claimed he'd brought her tears, our fool-huntress didn't listen.

She placed a hand upon his chest. It was chiseled, strong and sweaty.

His lust for her his cock confessed, stretching outward like a jetty.

Long and straight and hard and strong, this pier was tipped with purple.

More like a walking staff this dong than the rest she'd had in her hole.

"Good thing," she thought, "I'm slick with goo from all the men who've had me.

Otherwise he could never do what Anakin did to Padme."

She bent herself right over a bench and spread her legs so wide.

The smith stepped near the comely wench before his knocker her door tried.

The first attempt did not go well: she screamed out bloody murder.

A decent chap, Tim thought "Oh hell, I hadn't meant to hurt her.

But I will get my pride and joy buried deep inside her bushy.

Balls deep I'll get my massive toy even if I must get pushy."

His muscles bunched, his thews did strain, he'd shove until she'd open.

One hand grasped her golden mane, while t'other started gropin'

Beneath her gown near nether lips calloused digits teased her button.

He waited until she wiggled her hips before commencing more serious ruttin'.

When they were done it was full night. Dawn was nearly upon her

As she made it home on legs not quite right after that last assault upon her honor.

Soon that day she heard voices say to the hay man "We didn't think you could do it.

But our silver coins we will gladly pay for opportunity to finally screw it."

Our maiden was first quite confused: not one complaint of severe itching.

She soon realized she'd been sorely used and prepared for formidable bitching.

Then she noticed the cart man tossing hay into her livestock's larder.

That made no sense if double-crossing was the goal of the trickster carter.

Eleven payers came and went, a silver coin each left behind.

She stayed her tongue no need to vent: as long as he paid what need to whine?

His wagon all unloaded now, the hay man turned to greet the maiden.

"You can see I have kept my vow. With hay you're now well laden.

There was no clap that much was cruel, but I did pay you for each fool.

I have my coins, you have your hay, let's call our deal done today."

He flipped one coin of silver to her. "Some last advice, you won't hear truer:

You have goods that men will pay for. Rent yourself out; drop the hay fork.

I made ten coins off you today. Use what you've got: start making hay."

The End


Author's note: "Making hay" is an American idiom meaning "turning a situation to one's advantage". I hope you enjoyed the tale.

Report Story

byKethandra© 2 comments/ 13383 views/ 0 favorites
1 Pages:1

Please Rate This Submission:

Please Rate This Submission:

  • 1
  • 2
  • 3
  • 4
  • 5
Please wait
by Anonymous

If the above comment contains any ads, links, or breaks Literotica rules, please report it.

There are no recent comments (2 older comments) - Click here to add a comment to this story or Show more comments or Read All User Comments (2)

Add a

Post a public comment on this submission (click here to send private anonymous feedback to the author instead).

Post comment as (click to select):

Refresh ImageYou may also listen to a recording of the characters.

Preview comment

Forgot your password?

Please wait

Change picture

Your current user avatar, all sizes:

Default size User Picture  Medium size User Picture  Small size User Picture  Tiny size User Picture

You have a new user avatar waiting for moderation.

Select new user avatar: