Jonathan Richardson - Confessions Of An English Traveler

The Negro came. He bent to put chains on my ankles. I don't know yet whether he was lax in watchfulness or I was lucky for, as he bent, I skillfully and smashingly brought my knee upward, crashing it into his face and sending him sprawling.

Within moments, I had his pistol. Within another few moments, I was free again on London's dark streets. I hurried to my housing. I had some money hidden in the barn, for my wise uncle had told me to always have a good-sized nest egg set aside for flight which, he said, a cocksman many times had to take.

My servants were gone. The servants of Lord and Lady Haversock now inhabited property which had been mine from birth. Never again would I be on knees behind the comfortable buttocks of my cook pumping my manhood into either her hungry anus or vagina, her enormous breasts pendulant as she waited for me to later impale her between her breasts high big mounds.

Never again would the coachman's wife take my long and round prick in her mouth and suck and massage it to jetting happiness. Never again would the hot vagina of the little maid nurse my knob, pulling and tugging until my testicles filled her with my semen.

Now I was a fugitive from the King's Law, running and dodging, and I had to leave my native land. Where would I go but to my good uncle in Jamaica. I must hurry, hurry, hurry-

My gold found the captain I wanted-one bound for Kingston, Jamaica-and for three days I sat cramped in my own stinking excrement in the stinking hold of a ship, while three times the King's men searched for me. Finally, I felt the pitch beneath me and we were at sea, I bound for my uncle's domain in cocksdom, and my prick stiffened, even in my miserable quarters.

Time would aid me to forget my Lady Haversock. The sad experience with her possibly would turn out for the good, for never again would I fall in such stupid position with a female.

When the captain freed me we climbed on deck, he behind me up the ladder, and as we got near the top his hand, coming up and resting on the crack of my buttocks, halted me.

I felt his fingers love my buttocks, forefingers seeking my anus. And I heard him say, “There are no women on board, you know. We men must seek friendship and love in each other, you know.”

I laughed, happy to be free. “When there are no cunts, the men must substitute,” I said.

His forefinger punched my asshole through my heavy trousers. “You are a man of great intellect and understanding, Jonathan,” he said. “We climb now, n'est pas?”

“To your bed,” I said, and continued upward.