Charles and Bertha’s Good Evening- A Tale Of High Smut

Amag postcard Co, Germany, C1920s
Amag postcard Co, Germany, C1920s

Some lofty, literary smut by special guest author Bert “Sloppy Firsts” Enfield

Bertha and Charles did not speak. Their faces were motionless, just inches apart, as though a non-venomous spider had woven a reasonably strong web between them. They were two parts of a duet yet to be played. They were here for one reason: to play that duet by having sex.

“Good evening,” said Charles, his voice pulsating with electric tension.

“Good evening,” Bertha replied in a husky purr.

“What?”

Bertha cleared her throat and repeated herself intelligibly.

Charles began to erect a spire. Like the great tower of Salisbury Cathedral, it went up very quickly. However, as a point of difference, it was not to be later reinforced by Sir Christopher Wren.

Bertha saw his trouser-spire and smiled with satisfaction. She had always suspected that Charles, with his unseasonably festive waistcoats, had a massive dick.

Charles ascended the curve of her unnecessarily shapely leg, his intrepid hand crawling like a tiny vole determined to reach its burrow and gorge itself on bulbs.

Charles entered in the same way that Hitler entered Poland; there was no negotiation with Chamberlain. He ensured that his armoured divisions supplied adequate support to his infantry, and soon they were one. The beast with two backs. The octopus of desire. The heaving pleasure slug.

Bertha made a sound like an operatic tenor cracking a high note. Charles’ organ moved deeper inside her, seeming to play an elaborate six-part fugue on its many pipes.

“Charles, you are a machine.” She gasped, failing to specify what kind of machine she meant.

‘A fax machine,’ thought Charles.

“I am going to send your documents down the telephone line,” Charles intoned in sporadic masculine grunts. This logical leap lead to some confusion, but Bertha assumed Charles was simply using inapt and ungainly figurative language, like a herd of rampaging bison collaborating on a medical report.

A sudden, victorious surge broke the banks of the river and flooded farmland throughout the valley, ruining crops for the season. But neither Charles nor Bertha cared for the newly impoverished farmers or the dire economic consequences of a food shortage.

Bertha lit up, as was her post-coital habit, but, fortunately, Charles had a fire extinguisher on hand.

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5 Responses

  1. vindeljay says:

    Very good, I had to smile.

  2. megamezzo says:

    50 hues of Smut I think….

  3. I love this! You are the funniest!

Think. Type. Dazzle

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