Twenny grams o’ shrooms—GALUMPH.  Wait a few minutes, and…

HooooOOOOLY SHIIIIIIITTTT!!!!!!!!!

…

……………………………………

I’ve been on Middle Earth for a couple of months.  Still can’t pronounce where I am (these flowy-tongued Elves with their Ls and their Ys) but I’m not gonna lie, it’s pretty dope.  You prolly never smashed with a beautiful set of nethers that maintain grooming all by themselves and also smell like fresh-baked cake, but lemme tell you—it’s a whole new level of mind-blowing awesome.

Unfortunately, my Elf-milf dalliances come with a downside:  everyone’s worried about an evil dark lord.  Apparently, the dude’s a fiftieth-level necromancer who wants to throat-fuck Dumbledore, or some other similarly nefarious bullshit.  I don’t know—I’m just a simple-ass Man Whore, here to service hot Elven moms.  Anyways, much to my annoyance, they’ve drafted me into their army reserves.  Nothing front-line; it’s mostly stuff like packaging lembas, maintaining their arsenal, or neatening up their enchanted fortifications.  I’m not a fan.  Why sharpen swords or dig another ditch, when I could be lapping away at cake-scented vajeen?

A couple hours ago, they put us on notice.  Some high-ranking douchebag is gonna address our regiment.  I’ve suffered through two of these, and it’s already old.  Another dickhole in fancy armor is gonna establish dominance over us lowly peasants, so he can jerk off later to his military authority.  Blegh. 

I zone out for a good thirty minutes, blocking out whoever’s blithering at us.  Since I’m five rows back, I can’t see who’s talking,  I almost miss it when he calls, “Off-worlder!  Front and center!”

Off-worlder.  Me. 

SHIT.

I shoulder my way through, muttering discontentedly under my breath.  When I step in front of him, he grips my forearm and states, “I am Aragorn, King of Gondor.”

“Um, yep.”  I clear my throat.  “I am Kent, finder of Cl’Toris.”

He nods briskly.  “In the last five eons, no off-worlder has graced our lands.  I shall escort you to our most erudite wizards, who will bless you with a range of protective spells.  Then I will take you to the heart of war, so you may win glory and honor for your native folk.”

“What?  No!”  I snatch my hand away.  “I’m not leaving uh…”  (Dammit.  Still can’t pronounce the name of this city).

He crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.  “You don’t even know where you currently reside.”

“That’s besides the point!” I fume.  “I’m needed here!”

“Really.”  His eyebrow goes up a couple of notches.

“Um…”  I face the Elves and boom, “I thank each and every one of you for keeping me safe, so I may pleasure your women and bring them joy.”  I flash a glance at Aragorn.  “My fellow Man Whore knows what I’m talking about.  Look at him—handsome bastard.”  I hold up his arm so it’s bent at the elbow, then bump his knuckles with my fist.  “That’s what’s up.  Strength among whores.”

He rubs his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, squinching them shut in Beat-Your-Face irritation.  “That’s…that’s not…no one says that.”

“Well they damn well should.”  I look past his shoulder, at a beautiful Elf warrior observing the proceedings.  “Arwen, right?”  I shoot her pistol fingers, then hook my thumbs together and flap my hands (no one has cell phones, so instead of miming “call me,” they mime, “messenger-pigeon me.”)

Arwen giggles and responds with a flirty messenger-pigeon of her own.  I bite my bottom lip in triumph and pump my fist.  OH yeah! 

“That’s enough.”  Aragorn grabs my lapels.  “You think you can just—”

I can’t strip his grips; he’s way too strong.  “Hands off, you primitive screwhead!”  (Yes, that’s a pull from Army of Darkness.  Hail to the king, baby.)

“You have trod on the last of my vanishing patience.”  He nods at a dude from his ranger-goon entourage.  “Ready the shackles.”

Fuck.  THIS.  I open my eReader to a Kent Wayne novel, activating its mind-bending reality distortion powers.  Magic flash.

Gollum jumps out of a spacetime portal, without his customary nasty-ass loincloth.  His twisted erection is pretty horrific–it looks like a chunk of extra knotty ginger, all bulgy and angled in erratic directions. 

“What devilry is this???”  Aragorn turns toward the bricked up cave dweller. 

I chuckle maliciously.  “Look at how spry he is—come on, you can’t tell me he wasn’t designed for spider-monkey-style fucking.  You’re on the tall side, so…”

“No.”  Horror dawns in the douche-king’s gaze.  “NO!  Don’t you dare try and—”

Too late.  Gollum soars through the air, grabbing Aragorn’s skull like an alien face-hugger.  As the little guy starts pumping away, I wince in sympathy.  No judgment, but troglodyte dick just isn’t my thing. 

I was fully engrossed by the unfolding drama, so I didn’t notice Arwen sidling up to my side.  She gives me a nudge and a sneaky-quick crotch-grope.  “May I partake of your services?”  Her eyes flash with frisky mischief.

I respond with a mock-serious, man’s-gotta-do-what-a-man’s-gotta do expression.  “Thy wish be done.  Let us away from this merger between face and wiener (quite vigorous, if I might add), and set things a-right with some hip-slapping boffing.”

Kent Wayne wins again!  HEH heh heh!

😀

Are you living peacefully in a magical realm, only to have some douchebag warrior-king flex his nuts while you’re trying to mind your own damn business?  Never fear!  Buy my books and widen out his gob with a cave-dweller’s misshapen, centuries-old genitalia!

Get A Door into Evermoor here: A Door into Evermoor.  Get Weapons of Old here: Weapons of Old Get Kor’Thank here:  Kor’Thank:  Barbarian Valley Girl.  Get Echo Vol. 1 on Kindle here:  Vol. 1 on Kindle.  Vol. 2 on Kindle here:  Vol.2 on Kindle  Vol. 3 on Kindle here:  Vol. 3 on Kindle  Vol.4 on Kindle here:  Vol. 4 on Kindle  Echo Omnibus here:  Echo Omnibus  Echo Vol. 1 & 2 Combined Edition here:  Combined Edition  Musings, Volume 1 is available here:  Musings, Volume 1  Here’s the miscellaneous gear that I use to try and become an uber-human:  Optimization!    

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