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Amock Comedy Magazine 4

LUST FOR LANCELOT
“Merlin, I require your services,” said Queen Guinevere.
“Certainly, milady,” replied the ancient wizard, eagerly unfastening his robe.
“No, no, not that,” his sovereign lady replied, averting her eyes from his gnarled torso. “It is a matter
concerning my husband’s champion, Sir Lancelot.”
“The bravest of King Arthur’s Knights of the Round Table,”
sage, “What ails that stalwart heart?”
The Queen beckoned the magician to a seat before her and
leaned forward conspiratorially. “Do you think I am an
attractive woman, Merlin?” she asked.
“Verily, you are hot stuff. The hottest in the realm,” the
magician replied, quite truthfully.
The Queen sniffed. “Then why doth my Lord not give me
one on a regular basis?”
Merlin leaned back as realisation dawned. “King Arthur is
old, milady, and carries the cares of all the kingdom and
his subjects. Though there is no doubt he loves you, his
affairs are such a burden that he cannot perform as
vigorously or as regularly as other men.”
“Oh, to be had vigorously,” Guinevere breathed, a tremble
running through her body, “Would be but a dream. The
last time I was had vigorously was last Martinmas and
then, I believe, it was aided by a following wind.”
“But what hath this to do with my good Sir Lancelot?” the
wizard asked.
“It is his goodness that ails me,” his Queen replied. “You know that he is fair of face and stout of thew and has
entranced me. But though I have offered myself to him he will not avail himself of me.”
“Art thou then bursting for it, milady?”
The Queen sighed. “The only fun I’ve had in the last two months was at the last ball when I dragged Sir
Lancelot into an alcove and had a quick snog and a swift grope. But then he spurned me and said he was a
honourable knight and loved the King.”
Merlin placed his hand on his sovereign’s thigh. “I am always ready to serve, ma’am.”
Guinevere pushed his hand away. “No, Merlin, you are old, even older than the King and the vigour I require
would likely put you in your grave.”
“I’m willing to take the chance,” he answered, his eyebrows dancing.
“Nay, good sire, it must be Lancelot. You must make me a spell to bewitch him so that I can have my way with
his trouser parts.”
Merlin sprang back. “You ask too much, milady. For one thing I, too, am a loyal follower of the King and also
my mystic arts are not for such frivolous things.”
“But you gave Lady Igrane a magic dildo!” the Queen protested.
The wizard smiled. “She let me see her boobies.”
said the aged
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