of every kind of perversion from her youth up, she 
at last finished by obtaining the sexual orgasm 
only by thinking of those people with whom she 
was not familiar.  President R . . . . . . . t, E . . . . d 
VII, in spite of his impotence, the Czar, the Khe-
dive, and other poxy potentates thus fell easy vic-
tims to her lewd importunities.  Malheur !  in her 
later days she caught the King of E . . . . . d’s impo-
tence, and was compelled to the end of her life —
 for the disease proved intractable — to solace her-
self as best she could with the cold comfort of a 
common clicket. 
Take out that bald-headed hermit !  (He inter-
rupted himself) Whack it up !  Wallop it in !  What’s 
the nanny-goat for, you pimp, if you can’t go tail-
twitching her hairy old tuzzy-muzzy ?  You shall 
suck the oysters out of the kidney pudding if you’re 
good.  Now — my boy ! 
I complied with dignity, and in a moment found 
the Archbishop on my back gripping my hair with 
one violent hand and grappling at my breasts with 
the other, while his sharp-beaked pond snipe tore 
open the folds of my wrinkled arse, ill protected by 
their six weeks’ leaving of shit, and began pumping 
out its short and spitty spend with the sound of a 
kettle seething and crackling.  Enough !  I cried, 
and wedged a lusty turd against his tapering 
touch-trap.  But I had to do with a past master at 
love’s masonry.  With a swift corkscrew motion of 
his masterly quim-stake he withdrew the opposi-
tion, and transferring it to his hand, smeared it 
over my face, to teach me manners, as he said. 
But if he was clever, I was at least the repre-
sentative of solid British doggedness.  Turd after 
turd I launched adown my now ruptured rec-
tum ;  turd after turd he withdrew, and returned to 
the charge.  It was a strange conflict :  but wit and 
skill must ever win against mere brute obstinacy :  I 
resorted to finesse.  Archbishop !  I pleaded, clearing 
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