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How does this make you feel?

In 1823, a man of the name Parry sits ideally in his study, which forms part of the British embassy in Zimbabwe. Like many men of his age, he is plagued with many an ailment, namely, gout, diabetes, and others undiagnosed. The rest of his body is like a bin liner full of yoghurt.
Beside him sits a woman he captured on his Safari the day before. Her teeth-like ribs appear as though they would slice through her skin should she have herself at the wrong angle. He sits and eats his fill while looking at his slave and his doughy face cracks an oily smile.

She appears to be a good deal taller than Parry, who, if not for his gout and wooden leg, would be able to stand up himself, so that he could retrieve for himself the newspaper given to him by another more fortunate of his slaves. A male, who Parry has named the bell boy, who if were female, would I am sure be encaged alongside Parry’s female slave. For it has come to my attention that the gentleman who is Parry, is obsessed with slaves, particularly those of the female sex, starving and of an African persuasion.

One may ask themselves what exactly is an African persuasion. According to Parry, a female is of an African persuasion if she be starving to the point of death, in possession of hips capable of bearing his child, and have a vagina fit to bare the unloading of his copious lashings of seed. Most certainly, her vagina ought to be a soiled child’s nappy, heavy and soggy to the touch, and capable of being worn by Parry’s cock many times over.

In every way does Parry’s cock reflect his physical image, for it too is of great girth, length, though is of an odd colour. Unlike the rest of Parry’s sickly, white self, his penis is remarkably smooth, having no discernable blotches, warts or other such excess skin, all of which have domiciled themselves on his face. It is with good reason that Parry thinks of himself as every bit the gentleman, for this is exemplified above all by his choice of clothing, which does befit the image of a man of reason, purpose and aristocracy down to a tee; even down to the tea that he has ordered his black bell boy to pour for him.

No sooner after bleating to himself about the awry situation of the London Stock Market, he lowers his paper from his crooked nose, gives his handkerchief a sniff or three, and after a struggle or four, hoists himself onto his wooden leg; the fibres of which crack and settle themselves in order to support his gargantuan self. After his performing of what most certainly is an athletic triathlon, he recomposes himself, bobbing back and forth as having the buoyance and appearance of a rusting fishing tub caught at rough seas, but adorns the size and momentum of Titantic herself.

As if his size in person was not enough for the caged servant to have her mind mull Parry’s unbecomingness, his equally broad shadow wraps itself around her wiry silhouette. After a few ticks of the old stately grandfather clock nestled in the corner of his study, Parry now ever so slowly finds himself uncontrollably toppling over. The starving servant looks on in awe at Parry’s re-enacting the final fall of the Leaning Towar of Pisa itself...

(edited 8 years ago)

Reply 1

aaronlowe

Reminds me of the Israeli state lol. Vulgar and self affirming without regard to humanity

Reply 2

KingStannis

early morning posts on tsr are getting weirder and weirder.

Reply 3

KingStannis

"In every way does Parry’s cock reflect his physical image, for it too is of great girth, length, though is of an odd colour. Unlike the rest of Parry’s sickly, white self, his penis is remarkably smooth, having no discernable blotches, warts or other such excess skin, all of which have domiciled themselves on his face. It is with good reason that Parry thinks of himself as every bit the gentleman, for this is exemplified above all by his choice of clothing, which does befit the image of a man of reason, purpose and aristocracy down to a tee; even down to the tea that he has ordered his black bell boy to pour for him."

i cri everi time