SOUP CHILD PT TWO
Braken Hurter, the Alchemists daughter went to the woods and soon befriended
a very dark and handsome gipsy man. He gave her soup. She gave him sex with
gusto.
Every night he would sit by the camp fire amongst the trees and folige with
a glass of grog waiting for the Alchemists daughter. Soon he would hear her
running through the woods. Her white ankles would flash among fallen twigs
and pebbles. She would be impatient for her supper. With narrowed eyes and
tapping foot she would wait for a bowl of stinging nettle soup. After she
had drank it down she would make savage and brutal love to the stranger.
Then she would run off home crying 'Hurray for me'. Only to return tomorrow
for more soup and sex.
The clock on the hall ticked away the seconds of evening. Braken Hurters
eyes switched from the front door to the second hand of the clock. As it
edged its way to ten o'clock and the bells shimed she was out that door like
streak lightening. Running as fast as her legs could carry her into the
woods.
'Marithon race' she thought to herself. She thought much more besides as she
panted.
'I get lots of soup from the gipsy traveler. There is no doubt that his
generosity is genuin as far as food is concerned. But I am beginning to
notice his performance in sexual activity is lacking. It is obvius that he
has not the vital staminer that can only satisfy me. No matter. I shall
grind him into the ground and thrust him till he has a headache. I shall let
him have five minuits rest to get his breath back then it will be back to
the old pannel beating again, Tee hee hee . I am a hungry soul.'
When she got to the gipsys encampment she quickly drank her soup she dived
on top of him squeeling 'wee ride a cock horse.'
For three hours they made love in a most earthy fashion under the moon light
untill the gipsy traveler was flat on his back exhausted and laserated. She
sat on his chest and pinched his ribs with her knees.
Narrowing her eyes at him she said 'you like it realy don't you eh?'
All the gipsy could do was wimper and wished he had never put extra onions
in her soup. She licked her lips and woundered if there was any soup left in
his saucepan.
'I'm pulling out tomorrow,' thought the gipsy to himself.
The Alchemists daughter wiped the dribbles from her chin. 'Ok stubble' she
grinnd evily. 'Ready for another session?'
The gipsy rolled his eyes. 'Haven't you got a home to go to?' he said
weirily.
She just laughed and said "hurray for me. Now get it up.'
The very next day the gipsy pulled camp and trudged the open road to find
solice from Braken Hurters powerful hips and friction that made him sore.
She paced up and down in her room. Her arms folded, her face bored.
"For three weeks now I have incarserated myself in my room. No soup. No sex.
None since that gipsy ran away. He ran away like a coward. I should have
known his loins wernt up to scratch. But a tasty broth he did brew. Sigh...oh
well none for me. What I need is something to take my mind off soup and sex.
A hobby perhaps. Yes that's it. A hobby that takes up a lot of time and is
tricky.'
She looked through her window and saw a Nighting Gale singing sweetly as it
balanced upon her guttering.
'that's a good idear you have given me, oh plucky bird. A musical
instroment. That shall be my mind numbing hobby. I shall learn to play a
musical instroment. But which one? Best to consult Sperm Father.'
She skipped down to the basment where the Alchemist sat amongst old books
and test tubes, mixing various compounds.
'Sperm Father what is the best musical instroment for me to play?" she
asked.
'The penny whistle' he said.
'Have we such a whistle?'
'Yes.'
'Where is it then?'
'A broom cuboard is an Aladins cave to some. A blight on ones memorys to
others.'
After a few months the Alchemist daughter became quite good at the penny
whistle. She could play "Three blind mice". "Hickory, dickory dock" and one
evening she learned "The sailors hornpipe."
'I've craked it' she cried. 'I wounder if I have the power like the Pied
Piper. Lurring children and rats to their deaths? Or in my case luring nuble
young men to give me soup and sex? An interesting thought. Only one way to
find out. I shall go to the primary school tomorrow and play to the little
boys in the playground.'
This she did. But with dismal succes. When the boys heard her play they
throwed school dinner at her and farted.
She was livid. She howeld and stamped. She ran home in a rage to her father.
'Sperm Father, Sperm Father. Why wont my music atract boys of the oppersit
sex? Why?,why?, Why?' she demanded.
'First you have no talent' said the Alchemist. 'Second, your tecnique is
lacking. Tell me how do you play your trills?'
'I go diddle, diddle, diddle, Sperm Father.'
'Oh it is plain to see where your going wrong. Your middle finger on your
right hand is too soft. Make it stiff or replace it with something stiff.'
She thought wistfuly for a moment.
'Nice Sperm Father...' she said coyly.
"Yes?'
'Could you fashion me a metal finger in your smelting shop?'
'Heres one I made earlier" he said presenting her with a ridged stainless
steel finger.
'Oh thanks.' Braken Hurter ran up to her room. She looked at the false
thinger with glee and eyed her own with a frawn.
'I have no need of you, you usless thing.' She snarled.
She opened the top draw of her dressing table and positioned her middle
finger of her right hand. Then with her left foot slammed the draw shut. She
twisted off the member from muscle and tendons.
'Waste not. Want not' she said poping the severd finger into her mouth and
munching it. She found a pot of suger glue and afixed the metal finger in
its place.
'Ha, ha ,ha. This will garenty me food and male strong holds.'
And it did.
Sexton Ming