Her ass was

Thursday, 22 November, Year 4 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

Her ass was wiggling enticingly in the light breeze. Rally had just about finished burying her bagged treasure in the indigent topsoil and was now mostly employing herself in the idle exercise of organising, as she called it, the decor, as she also called it. Her... shall we say distinctly middle class aesthetic ideas coupled with her disproportionate preoccupation with the superficial stratum, the skin of all things afforded at least the benefit of an easy distraction from greater troubles. At most it afforded the same.

Rally was well in the habit of employing this little device of hers, spending time on the arranging of flowers in a vase to preside over the table at the dinner where war, calamity, incurable disease or simply divorce was to be announced. Consequently she was at the present moment futzing with some large fern leaves, lost one hundred feet under the canopy of a magnificent rainforest.

The pointlessness of arranging ferns in the jungle, where five minutes' natural growth will change the landscape completely, or the pointlessness of arranging ferns in the jungle, where nobody's to appreciate them, and even if someone were to appreciate them they'd likely share none of the preconceptions of the arranger and thus the arrangement necessarily be meaningless to them never bothered her, possibly for the simple reason that she had not enough sense to consider any of that, or possibly for some other reason.

At the same time however, nature itself was engaged in the exact same process, using however not ferns but flesh. To wit, Rally's own two haunches, some light wind and a few other items. The mostly nude but somewhat painted warrior was eyeing her like a panther'd eye a fornicating steak. It was quite unclear from his countenance whether he was to devour her or ravish her first.

Eventually just as he seemed about to pounce she turned to face him, which resulted in a moment of astonishment on both sides. Rally smiled widely, the brave drew a little closer, Rally began to extract herself from her clothes. A few minutes later, panting, she went for his manhood naturally, like one'd favour a bit of relish after a delicious repast. Much to her alarm she was odorously informed on the poor state of sanitation in that god forsaken place and time. Namely : complete absence.

Rally was a bit of what you'd call "one of those unbearable women that expect you to fuck them without messing up their hair", and so the notion that that had just been in there in its sorry state of quite potent malignancy made her queasy. She dragged the poor ex brave (currently her brave) to a nearby stream where they spent more in ablution than they had spent earlier in congress (a fate, I'm told, common to common modern man).

The years passed, Rally was oft times pregnant, if not always from the same rod (so as not to spoil the child). She did feed everyone in the village amply from her supplies of aspirin, paracetamol, sulfamethoxazole and other such goodies, to the degree that afore-common diseases such as the clap were completely obliterated. Some centuries later when the isolated tribe made again contact with humanity the various diseases came back in style and nearly wiped out the population, of course.

She did also take every possible precautionary measure as to absurd hygiene and as a result the entire tribe had permanently irritated, red skin. She also endeavoured to bring civilisation to the destitute aborigens, by organising a school for young women. On the face of it, her authority as a fat middle aged sassy woman compounded by her apparent uncanny ability to resolve any fever or stomach cramp by recourse to her stash of colored powders gave her tremendous weight in the respective societyi and so day after day no longer topless girls lined up around Rally on little straw mats and moved their hips and their arms and their who knows what in such ways as to build their body "for conjugal harmony and the pleasing of men", notwithstanding that simply taking their newly invented tops back off would have accomplished the exact same point quite well.

Rally died not happy but content, the mother of eighteen children of which all the girls survived, and grandmother to over a hundred short, ugly and annoying people. Upon her death it was decided that there's no way to continue the misery of everyone other than by electing someone to rally the tribe around and leadership them pointlessly about, and for the occasion the institution of "voting" was invented, as that method most apt to deliver the closest approximation of the original Rally.

Unfortunately when the tribe met the rest of the species later, it reciprocated with this atrocity for all the missing diseases it was on the occasion returned. Horror reigns ever since unabated.

  1. Have you noticed by the way that every primitive, inferior and pointless society in history was matriarchal, and every matriarchal society in history was primitive, inferior and pointless ? To this day, even, this observation stands.

    Did it maybe occur to you that the only merit of the Greeks and the Romans was simply that out of a thousand tribes they alone had the sense to send the woman from the forum and bid her keep quiet in public ? If not for this simple notion it's quite possible we'd have never heard of them any more than we've heard of the Sarmatians. []

Category: Prz arhscrt
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