Profile for little lord muthafuckin fauntleroy:
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- a member for 17 years, 0 months and 22 days
- has posted 4 messages on the main board
- has posted 13 messages on the talk board
- has posted 3 messages on the links board
- has posted 36 stories and 288 replies on question of the week
- They liked 14 pictures, 3 links, 0 talk posts, and 79 qotw answers.
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» I'm your biggest Fan
It began in 1965
It was a balmy autumn I first caught a glimpse of the woman who would take my heart. There she was on the front page of the newspaper, her beautiful blond hair framing her delicate yet alluring face. She was quite the nations obsession, yet I felt a real connection with her. In fact I became infatuated, and set about devoting the next 37 years of my life towards meeting her when she would fall in love with me and we could finally be together.
Her hair reminded me of all the big American singers of the time, her dark come to bed eyes looked into my soul from every picture I could get my hands on. I soon built up quite a collection of pictures and articles which I would pore through to learn as much as I could about the blond bombshell. I would lock myself in my room when mother and father were listening to the Archers and neatly arrange the images in a semicircle on the floor. I would then get naked and kneel in the centre before slowly manipulating my member betwixt my thumb and forefinger into a state of arousal, engorged with my ruby red blood, the veins popping out at the side as the cock ring worked its magic and made my mushroom head strain at the skin in whence it was contained, with my ample foreskin slid back over and hugging the rigid shaft of my love truncheon. I would spend every evening in this state reading and learning every little thing I could about my heroine before plunging myself down upon my hand crafted anal invader and fwapping my cum cannon until i would shoot my load over her face. Being in the mid 60’s I didn’t have access to a laminator, but I can vouch that carefully spread layers of man milk dried at room temperature will create a varnish like protective layer on magazine and newspaper clippings.
After her initial thrust into the limelight she disappeared for a few years. In 1972 a relationship with her then boyfriend nearly turned into a marriage but thankfully that didn’t happen, I could still become her first and only husband. After coming that close to losing her to another man I started writing her letters. In these letters I would detail explicitly how she made me feel, how it came about that I could not get erect without having a picture of her in front of me and how I could not ejaculate unless her baby blue eyes and face where on the floor awaiting the eruption from my pump action shotgun. I would outline my wildest fantasies to her, how i wanted her to tie me up and have her wicked way with me, teasing me before impaling herself on my luncheon truncheon. She never replied to my letters, sometimes I even suspected that she didn’t read them or even get them, but I kept sending them, deep down knowing that she savoured every word of my prose and confident that she would lie in her bed at night with 4 fingers inside herself. I used to wait outside of where she lived but she never seemed to come or go from her house. Still I hadn’t met her.
Almost 20 years later, in 1986 she make a huge comeback, and the British public once more took her to their hearts, she was more mature now, and a haunting look in her eyes once again beckoned me to restart my ritualistic bouts of self love. I tried to get to meet her on several occasions, but could never get close, the press were always hounding her – it was like a witch hunt, I for one don’t know how she could deal with being in the public eye so much, I think it might have sent me a little crazy, but not her. After her initial resurgence she floated in and out of the public eye over the next few years. During this period I started suffering from erectile dysfunction and my daily seed spillage ceased. Slowly my infatuation waned and the regularity of my letters was interrupted, a weekly offering turned into a monthly note.
In November 2002 I wrote my last letter to her, 30 years I had written to her and not so much as a reply, she must never have loved me or she wouldn’t keep me waiting all this time.
Then.
The.
World.
Stopped.
I first saw the news when I was in Hull on an excursion with my Mother. A Heart Attack. Overnight. Nothing they could do. She was DEAD!
My world collapsed in on me, even though I had convinced myself she didn’t matter I now knew deep down my love for her was the strongest it had ever been. The emotional connection I had with her had transcended all manifestations of physical love, yet now we could never be together, I would never be able to hold her in my arms, never be able to withdraw my member from her anal cavities before plunging it down her throat in an attempt to make her gag on her own faecal matter.
I spent the next 4 years in mourning, coming to terms with her death and her absence from my life. In August 2006 I wrote her one last letter, in it I poured my heart, every inch of my soul before also emptying my seed from my now working again phallus into the envelope and sealing it. I posted the envelope with no name on it. Dropping the envelope into that postbox I came a little in my pants. A little part of me died that day, but the healing process sending that letter triggered has allowed me to move forwards, and slowly day by day I have rebuilt my life. My mother died in October last year, and I am now alone in this world, but it gives me strength to think that some day, when my time comes that She will be waiting for me and we will meet at last and spend the rest of eternity together. I only hope, that somehow she will know, that when we meet I will not have to utter the words, ‘Myra Hindley, I love you more now than I ever have, let me fuck you pink.’
(Wed 22nd Apr 2009, 17:10, More)
It began in 1965
It was a balmy autumn I first caught a glimpse of the woman who would take my heart. There she was on the front page of the newspaper, her beautiful blond hair framing her delicate yet alluring face. She was quite the nations obsession, yet I felt a real connection with her. In fact I became infatuated, and set about devoting the next 37 years of my life towards meeting her when she would fall in love with me and we could finally be together.
Her hair reminded me of all the big American singers of the time, her dark come to bed eyes looked into my soul from every picture I could get my hands on. I soon built up quite a collection of pictures and articles which I would pore through to learn as much as I could about the blond bombshell. I would lock myself in my room when mother and father were listening to the Archers and neatly arrange the images in a semicircle on the floor. I would then get naked and kneel in the centre before slowly manipulating my member betwixt my thumb and forefinger into a state of arousal, engorged with my ruby red blood, the veins popping out at the side as the cock ring worked its magic and made my mushroom head strain at the skin in whence it was contained, with my ample foreskin slid back over and hugging the rigid shaft of my love truncheon. I would spend every evening in this state reading and learning every little thing I could about my heroine before plunging myself down upon my hand crafted anal invader and fwapping my cum cannon until i would shoot my load over her face. Being in the mid 60’s I didn’t have access to a laminator, but I can vouch that carefully spread layers of man milk dried at room temperature will create a varnish like protective layer on magazine and newspaper clippings.
After her initial thrust into the limelight she disappeared for a few years. In 1972 a relationship with her then boyfriend nearly turned into a marriage but thankfully that didn’t happen, I could still become her first and only husband. After coming that close to losing her to another man I started writing her letters. In these letters I would detail explicitly how she made me feel, how it came about that I could not get erect without having a picture of her in front of me and how I could not ejaculate unless her baby blue eyes and face where on the floor awaiting the eruption from my pump action shotgun. I would outline my wildest fantasies to her, how i wanted her to tie me up and have her wicked way with me, teasing me before impaling herself on my luncheon truncheon. She never replied to my letters, sometimes I even suspected that she didn’t read them or even get them, but I kept sending them, deep down knowing that she savoured every word of my prose and confident that she would lie in her bed at night with 4 fingers inside herself. I used to wait outside of where she lived but she never seemed to come or go from her house. Still I hadn’t met her.
Almost 20 years later, in 1986 she make a huge comeback, and the British public once more took her to their hearts, she was more mature now, and a haunting look in her eyes once again beckoned me to restart my ritualistic bouts of self love. I tried to get to meet her on several occasions, but could never get close, the press were always hounding her – it was like a witch hunt, I for one don’t know how she could deal with being in the public eye so much, I think it might have sent me a little crazy, but not her. After her initial resurgence she floated in and out of the public eye over the next few years. During this period I started suffering from erectile dysfunction and my daily seed spillage ceased. Slowly my infatuation waned and the regularity of my letters was interrupted, a weekly offering turned into a monthly note.
In November 2002 I wrote my last letter to her, 30 years I had written to her and not so much as a reply, she must never have loved me or she wouldn’t keep me waiting all this time.
Then.
The.
World.
Stopped.
I first saw the news when I was in Hull on an excursion with my Mother. A Heart Attack. Overnight. Nothing they could do. She was DEAD!
My world collapsed in on me, even though I had convinced myself she didn’t matter I now knew deep down my love for her was the strongest it had ever been. The emotional connection I had with her had transcended all manifestations of physical love, yet now we could never be together, I would never be able to hold her in my arms, never be able to withdraw my member from her anal cavities before plunging it down her throat in an attempt to make her gag on her own faecal matter.
I spent the next 4 years in mourning, coming to terms with her death and her absence from my life. In August 2006 I wrote her one last letter, in it I poured my heart, every inch of my soul before also emptying my seed from my now working again phallus into the envelope and sealing it. I posted the envelope with no name on it. Dropping the envelope into that postbox I came a little in my pants. A little part of me died that day, but the healing process sending that letter triggered has allowed me to move forwards, and slowly day by day I have rebuilt my life. My mother died in October last year, and I am now alone in this world, but it gives me strength to think that some day, when my time comes that She will be waiting for me and we will meet at last and spend the rest of eternity together. I only hope, that somehow she will know, that when we meet I will not have to utter the words, ‘Myra Hindley, I love you more now than I ever have, let me fuck you pink.’
(Wed 22nd Apr 2009, 17:10, More)
» Bullies
bully her?
i fucked her sideways, your mum, bullied the fuck out of her before giving her the length.
The FBI is what she wanted and the FBI is what she recieved.
the Fauntleroy Beef Injection.
and i tell you what,
she loved every last one of those 3 inches, the dirty cock hungry whore that she is, your mum.
and yeah, i bullied her into anal as well, she said no she didnt want it up her shit chute, but she ended up loving it, the dirty bitch.
your mum that is
(Fri 15th May 2009, 22:43, More)
bully her?
i fucked her sideways, your mum, bullied the fuck out of her before giving her the length.
The FBI is what she wanted and the FBI is what she recieved.
the Fauntleroy Beef Injection.
and i tell you what,
she loved every last one of those 3 inches, the dirty cock hungry whore that she is, your mum.
and yeah, i bullied her into anal as well, she said no she didnt want it up her shit chute, but she ended up loving it, the dirty bitch.
your mum that is
(Fri 15th May 2009, 22:43, More)
» Shit Stories: Part Number Two
play 1 - scene 3
piktur the seen, it is a luvly warm summer eevning and the burds are singing in the sky.
the hero of this storey walks in, richhard says, 'does i not need more than men need?, am i not hooman? if i gets cutt do i not bleed like meer mortalz?
then the sexy bow off this storey takes her dress off. 'let me poop in yer hare richhard, pleese i am beggin yoo!'
'no' sayz richhard. ' i will poop on your boobeez' everyone knows how the hero of this storee likes pooping on peeple.
richhard unrobes hisself and curlz a richhard the thurd out on her boobeez and then beginz to lik it of. 'mmm' sayz richhard, i luv the faecal depozitz on your boobeez.'
(Thu 3rd Apr 2008, 15:48, More)
play 1 - scene 3
piktur the seen, it is a luvly warm summer eevning and the burds are singing in the sky.
the hero of this storey walks in, richhard says, 'does i not need more than men need?, am i not hooman? if i gets cutt do i not bleed like meer mortalz?
then the sexy bow off this storey takes her dress off. 'let me poop in yer hare richhard, pleese i am beggin yoo!'
'no' sayz richhard. ' i will poop on your boobeez' everyone knows how the hero of this storee likes pooping on peeple.
richhard unrobes hisself and curlz a richhard the thurd out on her boobeez and then beginz to lik it of. 'mmm' sayz richhard, i luv the faecal depozitz on your boobeez.'
(Thu 3rd Apr 2008, 15:48, More)
» Fairgrounds, theme parks, circuses and carnivals
the day the fair came to town.
the low rumble of distant mechanically propelled transportation devices alerted us to the arrival of the travelling folk. A quivering haze along the road was broken by the rainbow coloured aforementioned mechanically propelled transportation devices as they came into view. The first mechanically propelled transportation device was red.
The second mechanically propelled transportation device was blue.
The third mechanically propelled transportation device was yellow.
The fourth mechanically propelled transportation device was red.
There were no green mechanically propelled transportation devices.
A hushed whisper travelled through the crowd as the convoy rumbled along the road before turning off into a small playing field.
Soon small leaflets measuring 210mm by 297mm were applied to traffic regulating and communication distributing standards through the town and the small playing field took the appearance of a small town of tents and rides. The fair had arrived.
I went to the fair and it was ace. I was sick in a hedge after fingering the sturdy hairy man who was in command of the wurlitzer. His puckered starfish had pushed open to accept my forefinger and in a moment of haste i had impaled my oral sphincter around the purple swollen glans of his reproductive organ behind the yellow mechanically propelled transportation device. Within a few minutes I had worked three fingers inside of his anal cavities and was gently stroking his prostate as my other hand worked the base of his organ and my mouth plunged up and down his swollen cock. 'Eat my cock boy' he grunted as he thrust his member to the back of my mouth and popped his glans into my throat. 'You like that dont you you little cocksucker' he said. Soon enough he was reaching his nicotine stained fingers down my back and gently prised apart my buttocks. He rubbed his finger over my starfish before quickly withdrawing and gobbing all down his digit to provide a modicum of lubrication. Straight back he was and without a moments hesitation he thrust his thick hairy finger straight up me. I winced with pain as his comrade who drove the blue mechanically propelled transportation device came up behind me and, withdrawing his swollen pimpled puss drenched cock from his overalls, he pulled the man i was suckings hand away and plunged himself deep inside of me.
Here I was being spit roasted by the carnies.
Anyway, getting back to the point, after being raped by the travelling folk I ate a dodgy hot dog and was sick in the hedge.
I didnt even get to go on any rides as it was dark when they finally finished and erupted inside of me. slowly withdrawing their members from me I could feel the mixture of puss and man milk dribble down my leg. It was only when the guy in front pulled his cock from my mouth could i see the warts and scabs all over it.
Anyway, i had a glass of lemonade and the ill fated hot dog before i was sick in a hedge. I went home and told daddy what a bad boy i had been eating a naughty hot dog and he put me over his knee and licked my bum clean.
(Fri 10th Jun 2011, 14:28, More)
the day the fair came to town.
the low rumble of distant mechanically propelled transportation devices alerted us to the arrival of the travelling folk. A quivering haze along the road was broken by the rainbow coloured aforementioned mechanically propelled transportation devices as they came into view. The first mechanically propelled transportation device was red.
The second mechanically propelled transportation device was blue.
The third mechanically propelled transportation device was yellow.
The fourth mechanically propelled transportation device was red.
There were no green mechanically propelled transportation devices.
A hushed whisper travelled through the crowd as the convoy rumbled along the road before turning off into a small playing field.
Soon small leaflets measuring 210mm by 297mm were applied to traffic regulating and communication distributing standards through the town and the small playing field took the appearance of a small town of tents and rides. The fair had arrived.
I went to the fair and it was ace. I was sick in a hedge after fingering the sturdy hairy man who was in command of the wurlitzer. His puckered starfish had pushed open to accept my forefinger and in a moment of haste i had impaled my oral sphincter around the purple swollen glans of his reproductive organ behind the yellow mechanically propelled transportation device. Within a few minutes I had worked three fingers inside of his anal cavities and was gently stroking his prostate as my other hand worked the base of his organ and my mouth plunged up and down his swollen cock. 'Eat my cock boy' he grunted as he thrust his member to the back of my mouth and popped his glans into my throat. 'You like that dont you you little cocksucker' he said. Soon enough he was reaching his nicotine stained fingers down my back and gently prised apart my buttocks. He rubbed his finger over my starfish before quickly withdrawing and gobbing all down his digit to provide a modicum of lubrication. Straight back he was and without a moments hesitation he thrust his thick hairy finger straight up me. I winced with pain as his comrade who drove the blue mechanically propelled transportation device came up behind me and, withdrawing his swollen pimpled puss drenched cock from his overalls, he pulled the man i was suckings hand away and plunged himself deep inside of me.
Here I was being spit roasted by the carnies.
Anyway, getting back to the point, after being raped by the travelling folk I ate a dodgy hot dog and was sick in the hedge.
I didnt even get to go on any rides as it was dark when they finally finished and erupted inside of me. slowly withdrawing their members from me I could feel the mixture of puss and man milk dribble down my leg. It was only when the guy in front pulled his cock from my mouth could i see the warts and scabs all over it.
Anyway, i had a glass of lemonade and the ill fated hot dog before i was sick in a hedge. I went home and told daddy what a bad boy i had been eating a naughty hot dog and he put me over his knee and licked my bum clean.
(Fri 10th Jun 2011, 14:28, More)