Thursday, 7 July 2016

To Heaven on My Husband’s Pillock

I have also posted this tale to another blog: Norwegian Erotic Folktales, which is where I will be posting the rest of the short collection.

I’m on holiday at the moment, in the wilds of Dog’s Nose where; however, I do have my faithful iPad with me, and a tentative connection to Dropbox, which means I am able to post something.

This tale is not for the pure-minded, but it is just as much folklore as any other folktale. What differentiates such so-called erotic folktales from their more prosaic cousins, however, is their treatment of motifs and themes that society considers taboo. “The Boy with the Mouse and the Flea” deals with potty issues; this tale is of a sexual nature. (If you think the text droll, imagine the illustrations. Sadly, they're still under copyright.)

To Heaven on My Husband’s Pillock

There was once a couple of folk who had married. But the man had such a short pillock that his old woman wasn’t satisfied with it. They discussed this very often, and finally the man had to go to a Finnwoman to get help. There was there help, and then he was given an ointment, as well, that was such that it healed all sores immediately. He was to rub that on if it grew too much, and he had to cut some off.

On the road, he met a woman from the mountains, and then he wanted to try it before he came home to his old woman. Well, there was nothing in the way of doing that. So he laid her under twelve inches.

“That was so terribly good,” she said. She thought it was a delicious cock, and she thought she could manage a little more. Yes, she should have her fill, he thought. But she had to sit up on top, otherwise it could go right down through her.

When they were finished, she said, “Let it go as far as it’ll reach.”

“How’s it doing now?” asked the man.

“Oh, I’m sitting in the seventh heaven now, old man,” said the girl.

“Yes, sit where you’re sitting,” he said.

After a very long time, he got his cock down again, and it lay limp like eels and sausages in great heaps and piles all around. And there came women-folk from all the villages, and had a go, and went home well satisfied.

At last he came home to his old woman, and she was angry with him, to be sure.

“How have things gone with you, were you made better?” she said.

“Oh, not much,” said the man.

However it was or wasn’t, they’d have a go, said the old woman. The man added an extra inch, or thereabouts.

“That wasn’t so bad,” she said, but should he have more, she would like to try it. They would have to change places, then, said the man. They did so, but she hadn’t taken any care, so when it got going, she knocked her bottom on the ceiling and screamed:

“Oh! I’m going off to heaven on my husbands pillock!”

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