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Shakespeare's Fab messages
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"Thou art truly most delightful on the eye. Fanciest thou a fuck?
Come one come all, poetic flirting please
I don’t flirt  "
Ah me.
Hoisted by Wonko's petard |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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"Thou art truly most delightful on the eye. Fanciest thou a fuck?
Come one come all, poetic flirting please
I don’t flirt
Ah me.
Hoisted by Wonko's petard "
Apologies fair lady |
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
|
"Thou art truly most delightful on the eye. Fanciest thou a fuck?
Come one come all, poetic flirting please
I don’t flirt
Ah me.
Hoisted by Wonko's petard
Apologies fair lady "
Good my lord, I am bereft |
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"Erect Jim, Erect Jim, wherefore art thou Erect Jim? Deny thy upstanding-ness and refuse to meet during a pandemic 
(Yes, I'm a scientist, not a literature writer  )"
Thou paintest a picture most fair with thine words so fine |
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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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"Eh up 
Oh mistress most rosy, well met by moonlight
Oh feck how do uth I do uth this language
A strange tongue indeed. "
But oh! Such pictures do spring to mind! Such a tongue in such a mouth as the Scarlets Lady's |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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My bumeth doth require attention.
A tender touch, a silky tongue, a warmeth caress making my eyes rolleth glistening in the candle light.
A stiff manhood to enter me and pleasure me till I am beareth and satisfied.
Oh cock, why have you forsaken me?
Cometh to Cindi and provide the ecstasy so readily required.
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"Eh up
Oh mistress most rosy, well met by moonlight
Oh feck how do uth I do uth this language
A strange tongue indeed.
But oh! Such pictures do spring to mind! Such a tongue in such a mouth as the Scarlets Lady's"
Oh the lady doth agree |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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He'd have fucking loved it on here!
'I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie' |
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"He'd have fucking loved it on here!
'I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie'"
I would my horse have the speed of your tongue! |
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He may have loved it here but I fear he encountered equally troubling status updates!
“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.” |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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"He may have loved it here but I fear he encountered equally troubling status updates!
“He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.”"
Haha! Who knew Fab was so full of modern bards? |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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A wistful thought,
A moonlit walk,
A chance to gaze at thy beauty,
And to ravage thee under a blanket of stars.
The morrow eve I give thee my heart,
On the morrow our loving starts. |
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Kate : You wait, Mr. Shakespeare, I will find a way to prove my worth.
Will : Kate, gentle Kate, thou provest thy worth every day with thy joyous smile, thy girlish laugh and the soft tender grace that all Eve's daughters bring to the rough world of men.
Kate : Oh, Mr. Shakespeare, you are like he who gives support. Like that which sweetens all that it covers. You are a great poet and are like the heavens.
Will : Kate, your words move me, but I would fain know their meaning.
Kate : Why, he who gives support is a patron. That which sweetens all that it covers be but icing. A great poet is a bard. And the heavens of course be starred. Put them together and you get...
Will : Patron-icing bard-starred.
Kate : I'll leave it with you.
Ben Elton genius again shines...  |
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By (user no longer on site)
over a year ago
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Before the setting of the chilled January sun
I shalt have thy queynte and for thee my sword
Shall from its scabbard briefs be drawn
And to plunder thy virtue will be my reward. |
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