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SNOGGO's Adolescent Adventure in Sidmouth (Free verse) by Edna Sweetlove
SNOGGO's Exciting Adolescent Adventure A new tale about the super-hero SNOGGO and a very erotic one with lotsa laughs 4 U Long before SNOGGO became world famous, he was of course just an ordinary kind of adolescent (well not that ordinary, of course, because he was still SNOGGO and he had heroic tendencies). So let's go back to the sixties..... SNOGGO woke up and clambered out of bed. He admired himself in the mirror. "God, but I am fabulous," he said, admiring himself in the mirror. He was nude and he looked a treat. It was the Long Vacation in his first year at Oxford and SNOGGO was short of money. His father, Mr SNOGGO Senior, was mean, as tight as a duck's arse (which, as we all know, is watertight) and SNOGGO had almost used up his allowance. SNOGGO would need to take a holiday job! During breakfast, the soon-to-be-wonderfully famous young SNOGGO looked at the small ads in the local newspaper: situations vacant. His trained eye zoomed down the page, ignoring the menial jobs which no one of his breeding and nascent glamour would dream of taking even if he were starving in the gutter. And then he saw a really intriguing job on offer: WORLD FAMOUS FILM STAR requires young handsome male for intimate work. Must be discreet and willing to get your hands dirty. Apply Mrs. Smith c/o Belmont Hotel. "Wow! That sounds good!" exclaimed the beautiful young, strapping SNOGGO. And how convenient it was that the Belmont Hotel (the best hotel in Sidmouth, which is the seaside town where the SNOGGO family lived) was just up the road! So SNOGGO got dressed in his finest sportwear ( including the tight jeans which emphasised the sublime shape of his glorious butt, and which meant his genitals were presented protrudingly). He phoned the hotel to check if Mrs Smith were there. "Belmont Hotel," the receptionist intoned. "Do you have a Mrs Smith staying with you at the moment?" And the receptionist laughed gaily, "We have six Mr and Mrs Smiths staying at the moment! Which one did you want? We have Mr and Mrs John Smith, Mr and Mrs John Smith, Mr and Mrs John Smith, Mr and Mrs John Smith and also a Mr and Mrs John Smith. Or there's Mr and Mrs James Smith, which is a bit unusual I suppose." "Oh dear, do you have a Mrs Smith staying by herself by any chance?" "By herself? Let me look.............Mmmm! Yes we do! Wow! That's cool! We have a Mrs Marilyn Smith from Los Angeles staying! She's in the Royal Suite, shall I put you through?" "No, no, is she in at the moment? I want to come and see her." answered the youthful and excited SNOGGO. And when he found that Mrs Smith was indeed in, off he went to the Belmont to see her. He looked at himself admiringly in the shop windows as he walked briskly along the street. He was gorgeous! Absolutely gorgeous! The receptionist at the Belmont gasped in admiration when SNOGGO presented himself at the hotel desk and asked to see Mrs Marilyn Smith. She phoned up Mrs Smith's suite and said there was a young man, a Mr SNOGGO, to see her. SNOGGO was told to go up immediately when Mrs Smith found out he had come in answer to her advertisement. He knocked on the bedroom door and was admitted by a slightly plump (but still shapely) old lady, dressed in black, with a large black hat and a black veil. "Hi there, Mr SNOGGO!" said the old lady in a surprisingly young- sounding voice which SNOGGO felt he had heard somewhere before, "Come right in and sit yourself down real comfy there!" She patted a sofa and sat down next to him. "You wanna Martini, baby?" "Just call me SNOGGO," said SNOGGO, "And I'll have a gin and tonic for preference." "And you must call me Marilyn," said Mrs Smith archly, in her charming American accent from behind her veil, as she poured SNOGGO his drink. SNOGGO could see she was admiring the lump in his trousers out of the corner of her eye as she did so. He noticed she had big firm tits for an old woman. And Marilyn then explained the job she had in mind. First, she explained that she was in disguise and that Smith was not her real name. Once SNOGGO had accepted the job, she would reveal her true identity, but she had to have utter discretion. No one must know she was in Sidmouth except her trusted employee! The problem, Mrs Smith explained, was that she had three huge boils on her back, just out of range of her fingers. These boils needed squeezing and draining of pus twice a week; they then needed to be dabbed with Dettol and a Band-Aid applied carefully to each. Once SNOGGO had assured her of his discretion and also explained that he had scored 100% in his First-Aid Proficiency Exam at school, the job was his! And Mrs Smith would pay him £20 a visit (which was a lot of money in those days). So SNOGGO and Mrs Smith shook hands on the deal and she led SNOGGO by the hand into the bedroom where she removed her hat and veil and her old woman's wig, revealing a shock of blonde hair. She threw off her old black dressing gown and stood naked, revealed as none other than M*ril*n M*nr*e, the famous Hollywood film star! And she had very big tits. Even bigger and firmer than SNOGGO had thought! "My God, you're M*ril*n M*nr*e!" gasped SNOGGO, his eyes glorying in the sight of her fabulous body, "I thought I recognised your accent!" She told SNOGGO to strip down to his shorts as she didn't want to risk any of her boils bursting and staining his lovely clothes and she went and lay down (face in the pillow) on the huge double bed, exposing her perfect rump to SNOGGO's enraptured gaze. He then noticed the three Band- Aids in the small of her back. "Do my boils, baby," murmured M*ril*n seductively, "They're goddam bursting and are hurtin' like Hell!" she added, pointing to the aluminium kidney dish, the cotton wool buds, the bottle of Dettol and the teaspoon on the bedside table. SNOGGO straddled M*ril*n and carefully removed the three Band-Aids, exposing the huge boils underneath. He carefully squeezed the two largest, extracting at least a teaspoonful of pus from each and then disinfected them and put on new bandages. "The third one isn't ready to be burst yet, it still has a scab on it," he murmured into her ear. "Pick the scab off," ordered M*ril*n, "And if you think it's not ready to go yet, just put some disinfectant on it and you can do it in a coupla days' time!" Which is what SNOGGO did. M*rily*n M*nr*e rolled over on her back after SNOGGO had finished treating her and he ogled her glorious beauty. "OK, baby, let's ball now!" "Ball? You want to play football?" "Oh you cute litte Britisher! No, babe, when Ah say ball Ah mean fuck!" smiled M*ril*n. "Wow! You want me to fuck you? That's fantastic!" said the astonished SNOGGO, struggling to get his gorgeous dick out of his, by this stage, dripping underpants. And so SNOGGO lost his virginity to the famous M*ril*n M*nr*e in the Royal Suite at the Belmont Hotel. Naturally, he did not tell M*ril*n that he was a virgin at the time and such was his innate skill at the act of love, that she (in spite of her colourful sexual history and in spite of her rampant nature) never knew she had taken his cherry. And what is more, he got paid £20 into the bargain! For the next few weeks, the pattern remained the same: SNOGGO would go to the Belmont, he would go up to Mrs Smith's room, she would disrobe and lie face down on the bed, he would squeeze and cleanse her weeping boils and then they would shag the living daylights out of each other. "Gee, SNOGGO, you sure are a wonderful lover for such a young guy, I sure love to feel your tight firm butts as you pound into me! You sure fuck better than either Frank or Jack or that baseball player whose goddam name I can't rightly recall!" "Who's Jack?" queried SNOGGO. "Jack? Why John F K*nn*dy, bless your little British buns!" But all good things have to come to an end, and M*ril*n's stay in Sidmouth came to an end. SNOGGO went to the hotel one day and found that Mrs Smith had checked out. He was stunned - she had given no indication that she was leaving. "Did she leave no message for me?" asked the dazed SNOGGO of the receptionist. And the receptionist looked in her drawers and found a small envelope addressed in M*rily*n's own unmistakeable semi-illiterate hand: "To SNOGGO". The tearful (and sexually frustrated) SNOGGO tore the envelope open as soon as he was outside the hotel. Inside was a £20 note and three of M* ril*n's boil scabs. From that moment on SNOGGO knew never to trust another woman with his gentle heart.

Up the ladder: War Grave
Down the ladder: From Treehouse To Factory

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Arithmetic Mean: 7.6923075
Weighted score: 6.9682345
Overall Rank: 120
Posted: December 10, 2006 11:09 AM PST; Last modified: December 10, 2006 11:09 AM PST
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Comments:
[n/a] SupremeDreamer @ 75.35.231.137 | 13-Dec-06/8:56 AM | Reply
Oh snoggo... such an emotional moron. C'mon now, getting paid to shag monroe ain't bad.
[10] Engelbert Humpalot @ 85.210.225.22 | 14-Jan-07/12:39 PM | Reply
Fabbo.
[n/a] conny lingers @ 0:0:0:0:0:0:0:1 | 2-Feb-21/8:38 AM | Reply
This is a wonderful story. Snoggos sounds my kind of guy.
[10] Engelbert Humpalot @ 0:0:0:0:0:0:0:1 | 3-Feb-21/7:22 AM | Reply
I just reread this after 13 years. I like it.
[n/a] rabbi sammy schtupp @ 0:0:0:0:0:0:0:1 | 3-Feb-21/10:26 AM | Reply
Oy vay!
[10] Engelbert Humpalot @ 0:0:0:0:0:0:0:1 | 17-Feb-21/10:25 AM | Reply
A very fine tale - almost Dickensian.
[10] Engelbert Humpalot @ 127.0.0.1 | 17-Feb-21/10:25 AM | Reply
A very fine tale - almost Dickensian.
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