SIR
JONATHAN DEL MONACO
A Tale of Tail of Bathe
By Izzy Ess of Cleanliness
Sir
Jonathan del Monaco, convinced that he was dying slowly of an obscure cancer
somewhere in his body, took to taking baths at Bathe, the Spa and Bath of
Bathe, that catered to the wealthy folks that came there for their health,
imagined illness or to find another person to enjoin while making those
complaints, like great fatigue, or bad imbalance, that seemed to plague just
everyone that came to Bathe for Baths.
Director Monica von Beethoven took special interest in del Monaco, since
he was very wealthy and available, since his wife of forty years had died last
year of apoplexy. Jonathan was very much
attracted to this Monica and asked if he could meet with her in consultation,
privately. She, of course, agreed and
set the time for 3:03 am when she was free to see him for a whole half hour, or
more, if necessary.
Jonathan
arrived at 3:o1 and was surprised that there was someone in her office. He knocked and heard a shuffling and then
nothing more. At 3:03 am, exactly,
Monica oped wide the door and showed him in.
She wore a see-through robe with not a stitch of underwear which showed
that she was quite prepared to solve his problems with alacrity. Sir Jonathan took Monica’s strong message to
his heart and he disrobed immediately. Monica
just smiled and sat behind her huge oak desk and asked, “What may I do for you,
Sir Jon?” Sir Jonathan sat down in the
huge chair before him and he crossed his legs to cover up his flaccid
penis. He started with: “I’m happy that
you had the time to see me, Madam Monica.
I trust that all is well with you and your good husband.” “Why, I thank you, my good Sir,” she did
reply. “My husband’s doing research in
the mud at Lourdes, and won’t return for twenty weeks. He called and said the mud is fascinating and
will take some time to study, thoroughly.
About your problem, I would guess it has to do with your deep feeling
that there is a cancer lurking somewhere in your body, eh? I’m sure that we can find it, if it’s
there. Why don’t you tell me what your
symptoms are?” “I can’t be sure of
anything, my dear Madam. Since my wife
died, I’m tired and lack in energy. I’m
used to being vigourous, athletic, potent and aggressive. I am used to wake up with a woody but that
never happens anymore.” Ms. Monica stood
up and dropped her see-through robe, down on the floor. She came around the desk and bent right over
so her derriere was in the face of Jonathan.
“Please look at everything you see,” Ms. Monica instructed. “Is there some one special thing you’d like
to sample?” Jonathan saw Madam Monica’s
delicious looking private parts and said, “I’d like to try your puckered anus,
if I may?”
Ms.
Monica stood up and wheeled around, abruptly.
“That will cost you twenty guineas!
Do you have the cash?” Sir
Jonathan had come prepared to pay an extra fee, if asked. He reached for his fat wallet in the pants
that he had dropped. He fished out twenty
guineas and he hand them to her. She
smiled and counted them before she added, “it will cost you twenty more if you get
hard and push your penis into my sweet puckered anus. If you but finger me or stick your own thumb
in, there is no extra fee.” “Alas,” he
sadly said as he uncrossed his legs to demonstrate. “My peinis is so soft that it will never
penetrate your sweet and tempting anus.”
Monica declared, “That will cost you an extra hundred guineas if you
want me to do a thing that will increase your potency and make your penis so
damn hard, you’ll hunger for some more of my administrations!”
Jonathan
did fish another hundred guineas out and handed them to his instructor. Counting all the guineas slowly, Monica was
satisfied that he had paid the piper, properly.
“Get ready, Freddie, here it comes.
Please don’t exclaim your satisfaction loudly. Walls have ears.” She bade him lie down on his back across her
great big desk. She grasped his flaccid
penis and began messaging it. It livened
up a little bit. She bent her head down
on his groin and took it all inside her mouth.
With practiced licking and shaft-stroking she produced in him a big
erection which started twitching and shot out a wad of semen, choking her. She swallowed quickly and ensured that not a
drop was left. She stood and smiled and
said, “Yes, that was wonderful, but now you owe me a one hundred guineas,
more!” Sir John was not surprised. He’d never felt so satisfied. He gladly paid the extra hundred and he
waited for the promise of her own sweet anus.
After counting all the guineas, Monica jumped up upon the table and she
sat right down on Jon’s large penis. He
aimed just right and penetrated her sweet anus all the way. They gasped together as they pushed and
shoved and both of them suppressed their cries as they experienced the most
intense deep feelings that they’d ever had!
Sir Jon kept paying through the night until his cash reserves ran
out. Ms. Monica then offered her sweet
anus to him sans a fee and did repeat her offer twice again until the hour was
9:10 am, when she said, “I’m very sorry, my dear Jon, but I have no more time
for you today. Another client comes to
see me in a minute. So, get dressed and
disappear through my own secret door behind my desk and I will see you once
again at 3:03 am, tomorrow, eh?” So,
quickly Jon got dressed and left just as a knock was heard at Madam Monica’s
front office door. He saw her quickly
don her see-through robe, just as he disappeared.
A
tall and handsome man was greeted with a bear hug. Herr Hermann Ludwig von Beethoven was an
attractive man with a full beard nad moustache, much like Freud’s. He took his clothes off and was apparently
already ready for some sex. Madam von
Beethovfen lept into his arms. Her
husbaqnd lifted her by her pretty buttocks and he set her down upon his groin,
nicely aiming his erection into his wife’s already moinstened honey pot. She started climaxing immediately and
squealed in her delight. Herr Hermanna
took his time and had her popping off for several minutes before he did let
go. He screamed quite loudly before his
wife could coer his big mouth. It was so
loud that Jonathan could hear down the hqll.
The married couple laughed so heartily that this was also heard by
Jonathan who guessed correctly what was going down. Madam went for the liquor cabinet and found
some cherry brandy which she served to her husband and herself. They joked about her exploits having filched
more than a thousand guineas from the lonely Jonathan. They also mentioned movies which were good
for blackmail or for sale to any buyers of such adult porn. “Salut!” said Hermann clinking glasses with
his wife. “Cheers!” said Monica.
Sir
Jonathan had heard enough. He charged
the door and opened it, surprising Monica and Hermann, still completely
naked. He slapped Herr Hermann in the
classic way to challenge someone to a duel.
“Choose your weapons, scoundrel!”
Sir Jonathan had yelled quite angrily.
“You’re serious?” asked Hermann.
“Yes, you cad, I’m serious! Now
name your poison and I’ve teach you both a lesson! I feel you should be warned. I am a champion at fencing and I am a
marksman with a pistol. I never miss at
twenty feet, or twenty yeards! Now,
choose and we shall duel to the death at dawn!”
Hermann was himself a marksman, having trained in Kaiser Wilhelm’s
Special Forces. Slowly, he replied, “I
choose the German dueling pistols. I
have a pair of them to use. My second is
my Monica. Have your second ready with
you at a haof an h9our before dawn and I will make you eat your words!”
Monica
was horrified. She stood akimbo in the
nude between the men and said, “I will not have it, gentlemen. Dueling is so silly and only leads to
senseless death or disability.
Gentlemen, can’t we discuss this as three reasonable people?” both the men pushed Monica aside. They were entrenched in old traditions and a
challenge was openly issued by Sir Jonathan.
“We must have our satisfaction, woman.
Do not interfere or we will shot here and now!” Both men drew loaded pistols and they aimed
between the pretty eyes of Monica’s. She
screamed and ran to hide beneath her big oak desk. Then she screamed, “I’ll fuck you both for
days on end and refund all the money that I took from you, Sir Jonathan. I’m truly sorry that I tried to scam you and
I will return the guineas plus another thousand, if you withdraw your
challenge.” The silence was so thick you
could have cut it with a knife. Finally,
Sir Jon capitulated and said, “If you fuck me every night for thirty nights and
give me back my money plus a thousand guineas, I will agree to spare the life
of your own husband. Deal?” “Deal!” said Monica. “Deal,” said Hermann quite reluctantly.
In
fact, Sir Jonathan felt so good, he stayed for several years. With Madam Monica between them, Sir Jon and
Hermann spent the nights enjoying their own company and all the sex that anyone
would want, and willingly. Ms. Monica
admitted she was falling for Sir Jonathan and so did Hermann. The trio was a perfect match of old tradition
and some newly innovative wrinkles that became so interesting that the three of
them began to find new ways to dupe the customers and make a lot of money. The trios coffers overflowed and they were
able to begin a franchise of these bathing spas that stretched around the world
from California to Portugal and from Hudson’s Bay to Mandalay. The three conspirators were worth a trillion
pounds apiece before they started selling off their properties and
franchises. They bought an island in the
Caribbean Gulf and built a Spa for very wealthy folks from USA and Europe. They gave up management to three young people
who did understand the business and the monkey business; their capital had
risen to ten trillion, each. Herr
Hermann died so happily while sleeping.
Monica von Beethoven became Milady Monica del Monaco in an underwater
ceremony with some sharks and turtles as the witnesses. They both lived happily into their nineties. Never was another interlude of malaise or a
loss of potency suffered by Sir Jon.
THE
END
© izzy sommers, md
Wetland, Canada
September 20, 2013
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