If Great Authors Wrote Porn #08

IT LOOKED like a good thing: but wait till I tell you. We were down South, in Alabama - Bill Driscoll and myself - when this kidnapping idea struck us. It was, as Bill afterward expressed it, "during a moment of temporary constipation in the brain cells"; but we didn't find that out till later.

There was a town down there called Cockston, named after the attributes of the founder, I presume. Its inhabitants were as unappetizing and aromatic a class of citizens as the pussy of the town whore after a busy Saturday night.

Bill and me had a joint capital of about six hundred dollars, and we needed just two thousand dollars more to pull off a fraudulent scheme selling stock in a non-existent whorehouse in Louisiana. We talked it over on the front steps of the hotel. Philoprogenitiveness, we figured, is strong in the states that still celebrate Jeff Davis' birthday with excessive drinking and celebratory insertion of a stiff boner into the neighbor's wife; therefore a kidnapping project ought to work as well there as a long strong hard-on does at a Nymphomaniac Society picnic. We knew that the constabulary of Cockston were a dyspeptic bunch and spent more time sitting on the crapper in the courthouse than they did hunting down wrong-doers so we had no fear from that quarter of the compass.

We selected for our victim the only daughter of a prominent citizen named Jeremiah Cockston, grandson of the renowned founder. The father was respectable, or at least he had never been caught whilst imbuing his pecker with the succulent dew of the local pussies; the daughter was named Sally Ann and was a white-bosomed flower of Southern maidenhood and totally unsullied, at least according to the description written by the local editor in his story of her eighteenth birthday party. Bill and me figured that Jeremiah would melt down for a ransom of two thousand dollars to a cent. But wait till I tell you.

About two miles from Cockston was a little mountain, covered with a dense cedar brake. On the rear elevation of this mountain was a cave. There we stored provisions and created a sylvan bower suitable for a maiden of the proportions of Jeremiah's li'l darlin' girl chile.

One evening after sundown, we drove in a buggy past old Cockston's house. The girl was sitting in the porch swing with a dreamy look on her face and a hand under her dress. Bill whispered, "Ladylike, hell, she is scratching where it itches right on the front porch." Poor Bill, he was soon to learn what itches that girl was scratching.

I sauntered up on to the porch trying to look like a respectable solicitor at law who has mistaken his steps on his way to a consultation with a valued client. I lifted my hat to the girl, who gave me a quizzical look. "Pardon me, miss, but could you direct me toward the residence of Miss Lolly Scraggs?" Miss Lolly had signed three of the letters to the editor in the latest edition of the local weekly so I figured everybody would know her.

"Why, of course, good sir," the girl drawled in that slow Southern music. She slid off the porch swing, showing quite a bit of her very nice legs as she did so. "Prithee come on down to the gate and I'll direct you." I wasn't sure about that fancy language but figured it was the local dialect. She took my arm, and seemingly accidentally rubbed a well rounded tit up against me in the process. That should have wised me up to the deal right there. But wait till I tell you.

When we reached the gate she pointed down the street, but before she could direct me to the accustomed domicile of that respected citizen Miss Lolly, Bill came up behind her with a handkerchief well soaked with chloroform. She only struggled a little before she collapsed in his arms. He grabbed her chest, getting a lecherous handful of boob in the process, and I grabbed her legs, spreading them wide enough to see that the poor thing had totally forgotten her bloomers that morning. Resting below a little nest of curly blonde hair was a representation of that orchidaceous beauty that flourishes high in the trees of the Amazon, delightful to look at but out of reach. Quickly I averted my gaze, not wanting to be distracted from the important business at hand. We dumped her in the back of the wagon and off we went toward our hide-out.

After following the ruts of the old road as far as we could, I left Bill to carry the still sleeping beauty up the hill to the cave over his shoulder, looking like a Neanderthal bring home his newly clubbed mate. I checked my pocket for the ransom note and drove the buggy over the other side of the hill to a small town where we had rented it. There I posted the note.

Bill and I had a note all prepared. It ran like this:

"Esteemed Col. Cockson:

We have your daughter in a place that cannot be found by any searchers. Your only hope of her safe return is to comply with these terms. If you do so, she will be returned to you, safe and sound, pure and unsullied. If you do not, you can be sure that she will suffer the fate which is called worse than death."

It then described the hollow tree into which the two thousand dollars was to be inserted, and the white handkerchief that was to be waved when it had been. I signed it "Two Desperate Men."

It took me some time to walk the three miles back to the hide-out. When I neared the cave, I was surprised to hear sounds emanating from it reminiscent of a sawmill going through a four inch oak plank, now and then increasing its screech when it hit a hard knot. Sure enough, that was old Bill, lying on his back on one of the cots we had set up, and sound asleep snoring hard.

But the truly amazing spectacle that presented itself to my optical nerve was the young lady who was supposedly our prisoner in durance vile. She was sitting calmly on the other cot, combing her hair. Her dress was carefully hung over the limb of a nearby tree, and nothing covered her pulchritude but a thin linen shift.

I struggled to maintain the proper professional attitude, being a man who puts his whole mind to the fiduciary opportunity at hand at all times. I couldn't help but notice that our ticket to two thousand dollars had shapely legs and a well rounded bosom, with little pink nipples straining against the soft linen of the shift. It was enough to make a banker drop his interest rates.

Never taking my eyes off the girl, for reasons of security of course, I walked to Bill's cot and delivered a sharp poke of the elbow to his solar plexus. He woke with a huff and exclaimed, "What? Again?"

Then he saw me standing over him. He gave me a conspiratorial wink and pulled my ear close to his mouth. "She's a Princess," he whispered.

I looked at Bill as if he was having a temporary mental apparition. But he shook his head, and said, "She likes to play games. She is the Red Princess of Bremen, and I am her Lord High Chancellor. Do you know what the duties of a Lord High Chancellor are?"

Well, I thought I had some idea. But what Bill explained did not lie within the sphere of activity of any Most High Lord of Nominality and Chancery that I ever heard of.

"I carry the scepter for her," he said. "She showed me where it is after she ordered me to drop my pants. It took her no time at all to get that scepter ready to do its duty. Then she took off the royal dress, lifted up the royal shift, and put her Lord High Chancellor to work in the royal pussy. Four times," he added ruefully.

"You mean ..." I said.

"Yes. I rammed that scepter into her little warm cunt and started working it like a locomotive piston with a full head of steam. She kept giving these little squeals like a shoat caught in a fence and I keep going at it harder. For a girl deprived of the society of big city swains and Ivy League college men, she has learned a lot in this small town. She can clench her pussy muscles tighter than a miser's grasp on a penny. Between the up and down and the round and round she gave me the ride of my life. Then she got off me and started rubbing those pink titties over my cock. I couldn't hold out very long and pretty soon I shot it all over those tits.

"She looks at my work, and says 'Well done, Lord Chancellor. I hereby award you the order of the Mountaintop, First Degree with Red Ribbon.' Well, I figured that she had had her fantasy out and suggested she retire to the royal bed chamber.

"But she has a hand back on my cock already and is working it back into shape. I didn't think I had it in me for another round, but when she got her lips around the head of it and sucked like a kid getting the last drop out of his ice cream soda, I found out that the Lord High Chancellor was up for another go, you might say. By the time she let me go to sleep she awarded me the Order of the Red Ribbon, the Order of the Blue Sash, the Order of the Purple Helmet and the Order of the Ermine Codpiece, all in honor of my performances. Four times." He sighed again.

I was listening to Bill's story, but looking over at the girl sitting there displaying her royal attributes. Pretty soon she catches my eye and motions me over.

"Welcome to my royal court, Sir Knight," she says. "I declarest thou the Royal Protector and Champion. But I must needs inspect thy weapon this day."

I could see this girl was playing her fantasy to the hilt. I had a clasp knife in my pocket, but I didn't think that would do for a weapon for a knight. She made it all clear to me real quick though. She slid off the cot, and pulled me into her until our thighs were rubbing together soft and easy. Then she unbuttoned my fly and in no time at all had my knightly weapon pulled out and standing up like the flagpole in front of the post office.

"A weapon worthy of the Royal Protector and Champion, Sir Knight," she murmured as she inspected it. Then she lifted up that thin shift and her pussy jumped on my shaft as if it were a hungry mouth that needed sustenance right away. She rode me over hill and down dale for a good steeplechase at least. She drove deeper and deeper as the heat increased, and was going at an admirable pace when we reached the top together. She screamed so loud I was afraid the constabulary of three counties would hear her. I pumped my juices into her, and then fell back exhausted.

I was lying there gasping for air, feeling all weak in my limbs, when I remembered that Bill had said, "Four times." I glanced over at him, and saw him regarding us with a sort of weak grin. He shrugged his shoulders at me and then turned over on his cot. In about ten seconds he was snoring away again. Just then I felt the girl's tits pressing into my chest and her mouth heading south on my stomach.

Well this sort of thing went on all day. First the Lord High Chancellor was called to duty, and then the Royal Protector took an inning. One of us rested and tried to regain our strength while the other one entertained her Majesty. Come nightfall, Bill and I could do nothing but stagger to our cots. The Princess was sitting on the Royal bed combing her hair and humming softly to herself. She glanced our way and called out, "The Chancellor shall attend me at first light, and the Knight at sunrise."

Bill and I slept the sleep of a couple of babies, having performed our royal duties to such an extent. But it seemed all to soon that my repose was disturbed by unseemly noises close to me. I rolled over a bit and opened one eye, noting that it was just daybreak and the sky was getting a bit light. I rolled some more, and saw something moving up and down. My first thought was that a mountain lion was jumping me, so I ducked my head fast and feared the worst. But when no teeth entered my occipital lode immediately, I snuck another peek.

To my astonishment it was the Red Princess, in all her naked glory, tits bouncing up and down as she rode poor Bill mercilessly. Bill was gasping and panting, and when finally the girl gave a little scream and rolled off him, he lay there like the proverbial King Log. Pretty soon he gave a weak glance over my way and a wan smile. He mouthed the words, "three since first light," or I think he did.

"Nay, Lord Chancellor, I am but sore disappointed. Methink that at the appointed hour of sunrise Sir Knight must do me better."

Now she was a mighty tasty example of the Southern flower in its finest bloom. Her hair was the softest blonde, her shoulders and bosom the purest white, the little fuzz of hair over her pussy the gentlest light shade. Even her cunt, although it had already seen much service this morning, was a tight little thing looking virtuous between her shapely legs. I felt my Knightly weapon responding to the idea, and looked to the East to see if I could detect the sunrise yet.

Well, sunrise came as it must, and that naked beauty was on my cock as soon as the first rays broke the horizon. She rode me East and she rode me West and she rode me the way she loved the best. She was insatiable. My cock, my fingers, and my tongue all probed her Southern flower, one after another, and then again. Finally I gasped, "Enough, enough! Your Knight Protector has to go patrol the boundaries and see if he can capture any enemy soldiers for your royal pleasure."

I took a nice long walk, trying to gather my strength to face the next round of the Princess' commands. When I came back, I could hear soft feminine moans and Bill's pitiful grunts as I neared the campsite. Sure enough, the Lord Chancellor had been called back to duty. I had a nice view of the round twin moons of the royal ass, moving up and down on Bill's shaft, which amazingly enough was still managing to stand up.

Poor Bill picked himself up from under her, and glanced at me piteously. "How soon do you think he will pay the ransom?" he begged.

"The mail should be delivered this morning, and I think he will send the money right away. I will go down and watch the hollow tree in a few hours," I promised.

The Princess looked at Bill with amorous eyes. He sighed and lay back down. She immediately attacked his dick with her mouth. First she licked it, then she rubbed her tits on it, then she took it deep in her mouth. Bill, heroically, rose to the occasion yet once again. Just for reasons of intellectual curiosity I watched the proceedings for some time, and then started down the hill to the hollow tree.

From a concealed place, I watched about an hour, and then a callow youth came sauntering along the path. He looked all around and then slipped something in the hollow tree, and waved a handkerchief in the air. I stayed hidden about another hour, satisfying myself that the local bloodhounds were safely kenneled and gnawing bones instead of hiding in the bushes. Then I went and retrieved the envelope.

When I got back to the camp, the Red Princess was reclining on one of the cots, and Bill was standing up working his cock in and out of her pussy. He had a resigned look on his face, and was holding on to a sapling to support himself. When he saw me coming he rotated his hips quickly and the girl gave a little scream and jerked her own hips. Bill pulled out then, and came over to me.

"That round and round action makes her cum every time," he said. "Thank goodness I learned it. Have you got the money? I don't have enough jizz in me for another day."

I sighed and handed Bill the envelope. He hastily opened it and began to read. This is what it said.

"Gentlemen,

"Being well acquainted with my daughter's proclivities, as indeed are half the undergraduates at the college and the entire membership of the volunteer fire department, not to mention the tenors of the choirs of all three local churches, I assume that by now she will have exerted them in such a way that you will be even more desperate than you were previously. Therefore I shall make a counter proposition which I am inclined to feel is a generous one in the circumstances.

"If you pay me 500 dollars, I believe that I can get three college men to occupy her attentions for the space of five minutes. If you exercise yourself with alacrity, this should give you ample opportunity to vacate this vicinity and seek another town for your larcenous attentions.

"Anticipating your quick acceptance of this offer, I will have the three college men sitting on our front porch at sunset this evening.

"Yours respectfully,

Col. Jeremiah Cockston"

"I can't believe the nerve of the old goat," I began, but I noticed that Bill was looking at me piteously.

"My pecker is so drained it may not stand up for a month. My balls ache from the demands she has made on them. My back is strained and my hips tend to lock up when I walk. Five hundred ain't so much," he pleaded.

To be honest about it, I had been thinking about tomorrow's sunrise and wondering if my dick was up to it. I decided to agree with Bill that an honorable retreat with colors struck was called for in this case.

I called the girl over and told her that the college fraternity had elected her Queen of the May Poles and we were taking her back to be in the parade. We arrived at the old brick Cockston mansion just at sunset. True to his word the old man had three eligible young bucks sitting on the porch. I could see one of them stroking the front of his white duck trousers already.

When the girl saw the three studs she gave a little squeal and ran into their arms. Bill quickly thrust the five hundred into the father's hands. And as fat as Bill is, and as tired as he was, and as low as his cock was hanging, he was a good two miles out of town before I could catch up to him.