HIMMELMANN
AND MESSERSCHMITT
A Tale of Tail from Old Vienna
By Izzy Ess of Cosiness
Composer
and conductor of the Hintermeier Orchestra of Archduke Meier Hinter, of the Court
of Wienerwald, Johann von Himmelmann attempted to improve on Maestro Hayden and
his over hundred symphonies by writing and conducting his own century of
symphonies and then another hundred for good measure. Publishers in Old Vienna did refuse to
publish them by saying they were garbage and not worthy of the fine tradition
in the Viennese milieu. No publishers in
other cities would consider taking them when Old Vienna turned them down. Johann, deflated and frustrated, became quite
impotent, which didn’t please his wife or mistresses, the Polish cellist or the
Czech percussionist. Consulting doctors,
he was given small amounts of belladonna, deadly nightshade, and some digitalis
leaf from foxglove. Johann felt a little
better but his impotence was worse which chased away Sophie, Sophie, Sophie,
Sophie, Ms. Olga and Maria, mistresses and wives for several years.
Copelia
Messerschmitt, his second saxophonist, was quite sympathetic and she acted like
a little girl upon his bouncing knee.
She wore short dresses and no underwear and wore her hair in pigtails. She looked in fact, not more than 8, except
for her large mammories and pubic bush,
which would have dated her so differently.
Dass Jungfrau Messerschmitt war unglucklich ein Jungfrau nicht…
One
day in May, Herr Himmelmann was sitting in his office in the Meier Hinter Halle
Musiker, just crying in his beer. He had
enough to feed his family and shelter them quite comfortably while his wives
and he would educate them. Certainly he
could be had by any woman who had eyes for his quite handsome face and pudgy
body. Certainly, his wives and friends
were kind to him when he had had his potency.
“But, now I feel inadequate and not quite manly. Only childlike Ms. Copelia does it for me
now. I love her cupid face and lovely
breasts and that big bush is big enough to crawl into. Of course, I do. Amazingly, Copelia gets my shaft real big and
hard and can make it squirt. And, she
just smiles and laughs and has a ball with me, although she doesn’t get a
climax. Copelia Messerschmitt has told
me not to be alarmed; she’s never had a climax. She doth lubricate and squirts
a lot but never has a proper spasm of her inner pelvic private parts.” Ms. Messerschmitt appeared and came toward
him with her skirt hiked high above her waist, revealing her amazing growth of
pubic hair. She came and sat upon his
knee and he began to bounce her up and down.
She squealed delightfully and went for Johann’s manhood which already
had expanded to a decent size, which satisfied him that he was a man. Copelia fished inside his bulky trousers and
she fished him out into the air where she just licked it and massaged it ‘til
it squirted on her face and breasts and abdomen. “Oh Johann!” she beseeched him. “Put it into me so deep it won’t come out ‘til
Wednesday!” She turned around and
pointed her cute derriere at Johann who smiled from ear to ear as he grabbed
both her hips and sat her down upon his lap while he impaled her deeply. She squealed and wiggled artfully and he
responded with a larger wad of semen, so conveniently all delivered deep inside
of her.
Despite
his wide experience with women he had no idea how to fix his lover’s problem of
her anhedonia. It wasn’t actually a
non-response, it was the absence of the classic climax that did bother both of
them. Ms. Messerschmitt had asked her
mother who was quite unhelpful. She had
also asked a violinist who was known to yell and scream when she had
intercourse, but she was quite uncertain what the trigger was that so excited
her to achieve climax. She doth thought
it was the man’s large manhood that would do the job since what she saw as size
seemed to excite her more. Knowledge of
anatomy was hard to come by and the physiology of sex had not yet been evolved
as scientific. They had no idea that the
Masters Johnson pair of researchers would not appear until the 1950’s, an
hundred years or more henceforth. Johann
had chosen not to reveal his feelings of inadequacy to his male or female kith
or kin with attempts to answer questions of the pathophysiology of sex. Besides, he really didn’t give a damn; so
long as he could get his rocks off, he was satisfied. He did admit that he had smidgeons of some
curiosity about his cherub girlfriend, Ms. Copelia Messerschmitt. She turned him on when other women were not
up to it and she exuded both the innocence of youth and grand equipment of
maturity.
This
day, she asked if he would check her bush out for a little something that was
stimulating. He complied and slowly
searched her bush of pubic hair until he found a kind of penis, very small and
hidden just between her lower lips. He
touched it with his finger tip and she just jumped. It felt divine. He licked it with his tongue and Messerschmitt
began to moan and squeal delightfully as she experienced an orgasm, and then
another and another, while she squirted forth her juices and she writhed and
wiggled with delight. It turned the
Maestro on so much, he squirted there and then.
“Aha!” he screamed. “Eureka,
meine liebschen! We have found the key
to happiness, at last. Lie down right
here and we shall make a 69! We’ll lick
each other ‘til the cows come home!”
And so it went just every day. Johann and his Copelia gave up everything
including music for the pleasures of the night.
They did abandon all their kith and kin and moved together to a small
chalet near Grindlwald, in Switzerland.
They learned to yodel while they made their passions sing. They reached the high Cs and the low Cs and all
those white and black keys, in between.
They even found a Chopin polka with an “oom pah pah,” and waltzing by
the Junior Strauss. Had Johann bothered
to transcribe the music of his Love for his diminutive, though beautifully
rounded out, Copelia, Old Vienna would have clamoured to release it as the
Music of the New Millennium. It would
have made Johann and his Copelia fortunes for their “Most Romantic Story of All
Time.” If modern Prophets dared to write
a Third or Fourth New Testament, this story would be deemed the “Template
Allegorique” for a Modern Eden’s Garden with, of course, Originality of
Sin. Amen and Hallelujah!
THE
END
© izzy sommers, md
Welland, Canada
September 18, 2013
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