Lance took my unconscious form back down to Camp Camp, where I was immediately taken in by the Red Rump Tribe and given the very best medical aid they had to offer. I do not recall much of this part of my adventure, as I flitted in and out of consciousness, although I do recall being tended to by Titty-Titty, the tribe’s only female. On a fair few occasions I opened my eyes, to find her leant over me, wiping my brow or redressing my wounds, her ample bosom brushing against my face and causing my Lord Palmerston to twitch in excitement. I have many happy memories of those mammaries, I can tell you.

As Titty-Titty nursed me back to health over the days, we got to talking and I found her to be a most charming, if slightly bashful creature. That is, until the topic of sexual intercourse reared it’s massive, purple head. Being the only female in a camp full of homosexual Indians had clearly taken it’s toll on poor Titty-Titty, and her eyes lit up with fervent excitement as I began to press upon the subject, detailing some of my many sexual conquests of the past. When I had finished talking, she leapt onto the bed and grabbed my hand, pressing it to her chest.

“Do me, your lordship!” she blurted, excitedly. I recalled Chief Spurting Cock‘s words about how Titty-Titty was considered sacred among the tribe, as the would-be mother of the Indians’ children, but as I beheld Titty-Titty’s glorious knockers, heaving with lustful passion, I decided it would be far more sacrilegious to let this girl go un-pumped.

I smiled, and flung back the bedsheets.

“Thank you, your lordship, for saving our tribe form those awful beasts,” said Chief Spurting Cock, shaking my hand with evident glee as I prepared to depart the camp and head back to England. “And thank you too,” he added, addressing my crotch.

“Don’t mention it,” I said, modestly.

“Anything we can do in return, just let us know,” the Chief continued. “We could bathe your penis for you, if you like,” he added, hopefully. “With our mouths.”

“That is a most generous offer,” I said. “But I must decline. My man-servant and I must return home, now. I have been away from the Likely Estate for much too long, and I greatly desire to be back among my expensive furnishings and extensive collection of pornography.”

“Suit yourself,” Spurting Cock replied. “The offer is open-ended.”

“Believe me, I have no compulsion to go anywhere near your open-end,” I retorted, dryly. “You can let go of my hand now, Chief.”

“Oh! Sorry!” Spurting Cock exclaimed, releasing my lordly appendage from his grip.

“Thank you,” I smiled, then turned to my brother, Lance. “It has been a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Lance. Let us hope that any future family reunions pass off a lot more peacefully.”

“I hear that,” Lance grinned.

“For a filthy outlaw with a weakness for penetrating the backsides of farm animals, you are a good man, Lance. I wish you well with your future endeavours, whatever they may be.”

“Well, I’ll probably go an’ bury Ludlow, first,” Lance drawled. “He’s startin’ to stink a bit, an’ vultures have started to peck bits off of him.”

“That would be a good move, certainly.”

“Then I’m thinkin’ I might marry my horse, Jezebel, an’ make an honest mare outta her.”

“That…would be an interesting move,” I smiled.

“Hey, d’ya think it’s true what Ludlow says about dad? That he’s still alive?”

“It would not surprise me one bit,” I answered. “And if he is, I shall certainly find him.”

“Well, if you do, can you do me a favour?”

“What would that be?”

“Kick the ol’ bastard in the nuts for me,” Lance growled.

“I will, brother,” I rested a friendly hand upon Lance’s shoulder. “Right in the love-spuds.”

This touching moment of brotherly bonding was suddenly rudely interrupted by one of the braves from the Red Rump tribe running, screaming from a tent. It was Sucking Pole, and his face was scarlet with rage. I watched in baffled befuddlement as he exchanged some furious words in his native tongue, with Chief Spurting Cock.

“What in the name of the devil’s anus is going on here?” I asked.

“Beats me,” Lance shrugged his shoulders.

“I think something has gone awry with the fornication ceremony,” Botter replied, despite no-one asking him.

“Pardon?”

“I have managed to pick up a little of the tribe’s language while staying here, your lordship.” Botter explained, as he watched the unfolding drama. “Yes, I think Sucking Pole attempted to impregnate Miss Titty-Titty, but claims that she has been defiled.”

“Ah.” I gulped, the colour draining from my cheeks. “They…they can tell that, can they?”

“It seems that they can when the man in question leaves his ejaculate all over the woman’s chest,” Botter said.

“Ah. Botter, prepare the horses, I fear we may have to leave rather sooner than we had planned,” I cried, as a sea of angry Indian faces turned to face me. “In fact, forget the horses, and run like fuckery!”

With that, Botter and I sprinted from the campsite, and into the sunset, pursued by a mob of angry tribesmen eager to tear my wondrous self a new arsehole.

All in all, it had been quite an adventure.

Goodnight, and God Bless America. And God Help Me.

- Lord Likely.

His Lordship will return on Hallowe’en, with a tale of terror so terrifying you may well shit your trousers. In the meantime, his lordship requests – nay, DEMANDS – that you visit the following websites for more entertainment:

Lord Likely’s Audio Adventures: his lordship reads poetry, performs readings from his journals and even indulges in some song. WARNING: may be too erotically charged for some to handle.

Lord Likely: Stripped Nude: the companion piece to the Astonishing Adventures, taking a behind the scenes look at the making of these frankly fantastic journals.

Lord Likely Interviewed: Mr. Chris from the web-log Nothing to See Here interviews Lord Likely, revealing his lordship’s hatred for the French, and discovering how one should practice safe sex if one is prone to violently explosive orgasms.

Lord Likely Filmed: As part of his MyBlogLog Sunday initiative, Mr. Ed teamed up with Mr. OS9user to produce a short film highlighting certain web-logs, including this very one you are reading right now. Click here to witness the resulting piece of remarkable video footage!

Lord Likely’s Lavish Lounge: If you are a member of the Blog Catalog community, you can now socialize with his lordship in his own opulent group, where the wine flows freely and intercourse is always on the cards. If you are not a member, join up now, else you shall miss out on all this excellence.

humor-blogs.com: For further humourous web-logs (some of which are almost approach these journals in terms of excellence), visit this fine blog directory.

Fuel My Blog: As ever, one may ‘fuel’ his lordship’s web-log by clicking on this link. NOW!

Or, simply read the entire Astonishing American Adventure from the start.

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The Red Rump tribe offered us a ride back to their camp, located in the depths of Cockshaft Canyon. Botter rode on the back of Sucking Pole‘s horse, while I had the dubious honour of riding with the tribe’s Chief, Spurting Cock.

The journey was awful, as I had not only had to contend with the intolerable heat and treacherously rocky terrain, but I also had to fend off continued lecherous advances from the over-excitable Chief. His favourite trick was to steer his horse over some particularly bumpy ground at great speed, forcing me to tighten my grip around his waist, at which point he would cry, “Oooooh! You saucy devil!” before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter. By the end of the journey I was praying for a terrible accident to befall the Indian, preferably involving a low-hanging branch, a broken leg and a pack of wild coyotes. Sadly, my prayers went unanswered.

We finally arrived at the tribe’s camp in the late evening, by which time I was considerably saddle-sore – due solely to the pressure of the saddle on my rear, I hasten to add. At no point did I allow any of the nancified natives penetrate my venerable backside.

“Welcome to Camp Camp!” cried Spurting Cock as we trotted into the campsite. I rolled my eyes.

The camp was luridly styled; the tribe’s tents were all coloured in various gaudy hues, with skulls bearing far too much make-up tied to poles flanking them. A large camp-fire acted as a centre-piece for the site, surrounded by large, comfortable, rose-coloured couches, upon which sat more gaily-coloured tribesmen, who leapt to their feet as we entered and clamoured around us in awe-struck wonder.

“My chief! You have bought us fresh meat?” said one, pawing at my leg like an over-affectionate cat.

“You shall keep your hand off of my meat,” I snapped. “Your fresh meat is over there,” I added, pointing to Botter who was half-dismounting and half-falling from his horse. The native regarded my man-servant glumly.

“He doesn’t look very fresh,” he moaned. “In fact, he looks like he has gone off.”

“Yes, he has gone off rather a few times,” I agreed, climbing down from my ride. “But that is all that is on offer. Take it or leave it.”

The Indian sighed, then sloped off towards Botter sadly.

“Take a seat, your lordship,” beamed Spurting Cock, indicating to one of the couches around the fire. I sat down gingerly on the seat. “Now, would you like to suck on my pipe?”

“I beg your pardon?“

“Peace pipe!” the Chief smiled, producing a large, wooden pipe from his belt. “Would you like to smoke the peace pipe with me?”

“If it’s all the same, I shall decline the offer, thank you,” I said, stiffly. “I shall have a cigarette, instead.”

“I must warn you, it is a great insult to refuse the peace pipe,” Spurting Cock said solemnly. “People have died for less!”

“Really?” I said, aghast.

“No! Not really! Hahahaha! You totally fell for that one, your lordship! Your face was a picture!”

I shook my head wearily, and lit a cigarette.

“Alright, let us eat now. You must be famished, your lordship!” The chief clapped his hands loudly. “Will someone go and fetch his lordship a menu – pronto!”

“A menu?” I said. “Why on Earth would you need a menu? Don’t your sort just eat raw buffalo meat?”

“Please, your lordship. We are not savages, you know. We order in a lot of food from the nearby town – salmon, veal, the finest cuts of steak, fresh vegetables – we like to eat well!”

“I stand corrected,” I replied.

“Ah, here comes the menu now!” cried the Chief, indicating towards a stunningly gorgeous young lady, with jet-black hair, beautiful brown eyes and large, round breasts. I felt my interest suddenly perk up, along with my Lord Palmerston.

“Your menu, Chief Spurting Cock,” the girl said, bending over to hand over the menu to the Chief. I allowed myself a quick glance at her pert buttocks as she did so, and hoped that I might get better acquainted with them later.

“Thank you, Titty-Titty,” the Chief said, taking the menu from the girl. “This is our special guest, Lord Likely, from England.”

“A pleasure my dear,” I said, rising to my feet and taking her hand gently in mine. She giggled timidly, her cheeks flushing scarlet. She was positively adorable, I thought, and then I softly kissed the back of her hand. As I withdrew, I became aware that a hushed silence had fallen upon the camp. As I turned around, I saw a sea of open mouths, jaws-dropping wherever I looked. I quickly realised what was up.

My Lord Palmerston was up.

Surely enough, my proud organ had also taken a liking to this pretty Indian girl, and the resulting erection was causing quite a stir in the camp.

“Well, your lordship!” Exclaimed Chief Spurting Cock. “I was going to show you our totem-pole later, but quite frankly I don’t think it will measure up to your own.”

“My apologies, Chief, you have not been introduced. This here is my Lord Palmerston, my closest companion. Evidently he is rather taken with this young lady, as am I.”

“Titty-Titty?” snorted the Chief. “Well, I suppose she’s alright, if you like that sort of thing. We keep her around to foster our children, for we wish our tribe to carry on long after we are gone. Although, having said that, we have only managed to raise one child so far, as only Pounding Ass there could find the nerve to penetrate this vile, cockless hussy.”

“It was a moment of weakness,” whined Pounding Ass forlornly.

“It is alright, Pounding Ass,” Chief Spurting Cock said reassuringly to the saddened brave, patting his back gently.

“Well, maybe I might offer my services to Miss Titty-Titty here?” I asked, brushing a loose hair away from the girl’s face.

In a flash, Spurting Cock was beside me, grabbing Titty-Titty away from my reaches.

“She may lack a lovely, smooth shaft and large, round balls,” he said sternly, “but Titty-Titty is sacred to us, as the bearer of our son, Little Bender. Should any white man interfere with her, we will not hesitate to spear his gonads to the wall!”

“They will, too,” growled a drawling voice behind me. “I came this close to losing a nut myself.”

I swung round, and beheld a rather dishevelled man in a long coat, half his face obscured under the shadow cast by the large brim of his hat.

“I only managed to save mah balls by agreein’ to share some of mah gold with these fellahs. Mine must be the most expensive balls in the entire country.” The stranger smiled, and raised his head, revealing more of his face to me. The sharp, glittering eyes, proud nose and well-maintained moustache left me in no doubt as to the identity of this fellow.

“Lance!” I cried, then there was a brief pause as his words sank into my head. “Hold on…did you say gold?”

- Lord Likely.

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