The Power of Mesmerism: A Highly Erotic Narrative of Voluptuous Facts and Fancies by Anonymous

Author:Anonymous [Anonymous]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic stories
ISBN: 9781486147540
Amazon: 1486147542
Publisher: tebbo
Published: 2012-05-19T04:00:00+00:00

“Yes, a little bit about the quarrels of the goddesses in heaven. It is an old volume of the writings of the ‘London Spy.’ Here it is,” said Frank, taking up a book:

POEM

A health Jove began to the best end of Juno, By which they had often been “Junctus in Uno,” The bowl went about with much simp’ring and winking, Each God lick’d his lips, at the health he was drinking; Whilst Venus and Pallas look’d ready to rave, That her Goddesship’s scut should such preference have; The bowl being large, hoping the rather Their amiable rumps might have swam altogether. Thus both being vex’d, Venus swore by her power, The nectar had something in’t, made it drink sowre: Which Pallas confirm’d by her shield and her sword, And vow’d ‘twas as musty besides as a T——d But Juno perceiving ‘twas out of ill-nature, That Venus and Pallas abus’d the good creature, Because to her Peacock, precedence was given, As the best and finest fledg’d bird in the Heaven; Insinuating under a wink and a snicker, As if the good health had corrupted the liquor: And finding they’d cast this reflection upon her, In Juno ‘twas justice to stand by her honour: Who raising her bum from her seat in a passion, To Venus and Pallas she made this oration: “Pray Goddesses! What do you mean, I beseech it, To basely reflect on my Tippet-de-wichet? I know by your smiles, leering looks, and your winks, And your items and jeers, you’d insinuate it stinks: Dispraising the nectar, well knowing you meant, That a health to my Tw——t gave the juice an ill scent. Nay, laugh if you please, for I know I’m extreamly To blame, thus to blurt out a word so unseemly. But all know the proverb, wherein it is said, That a What is a What, and a Spade is a Spade; And now I’m provok’d, for a truth I may tell it, Tho’ as red as a fox, yet it smells like a vi’let. By Jove I’ll be judge, if I am not as sweet, I may say, as a primrose, from head to my feet. And he, you may swear, who’s my husband and lover, Has kist me, and felt me, and smelt me all over, And if he can say an ill scent does arise, From my ears, or my armpits, my c——t, or my thighs, Like rotten old Cheshire, low Vervane or Ling, And altho’ I’m goddess, I’ll hang in a string. Your self, Lady Fair, that arose from the sea, Sure will not presume to be fragrant as me: The spark that has laid at your feet all his trophies, Has smelt you sometimes strong as pickl’d anchovies: But what if he has, were you ranker and older, You’d be e’en good enough for a smith or a soldier.” These words put the Goddess of Love in a fire, And make her look redder than Mars that was by her. “My beauty,” said Venus, “obtain’d the Gold Apple.

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