A Harlequin Romance Parody
Daniel had been working out in the fields all day. The hot sun had taken its toll upon his fragile skin; his flesh now possessed a reddish tint. Sweat poured down his brow and glistened upon his massive chest. Realizing that it was not glistening enough, Daniel opened a bottle of oil and poured some into his hand. He lathered it onto his muscular front until he had achieved the proper shine.
He paused as the ringing of the dinner bell stirred him from his labor. His enormous strides brought him momentarily to the veranda. As he ascended the whitewashed porch he stole a glance through the window into the kitchen, where he caught the eye of Kimberly, a blonde beauty recently arrived on the plantation from up North. She stared back at him, entranced by this Jewish giant. Daniel had yet to learn the reason behind Kimberly's mysterious appearance at the plantation, or her relation to the Greys, the Southern clan that owned the cotton fields, but he was already taken by her stunning good looks and her curvaceous figure. He tipped his yarmulke to her and then strode through the door, his huge shoulders barely fitting through the frame.
He was met by the stunning visage of Amber Grey, the daughter of Chester Grey, owner of the plantation. Her long raven hair and pale complexion were reminiscent of her mother, who had died in labor. She pursed her full lips as she caught sight of Daniel's bare chest. She stood in his path, staring intently into Daniel's eyes. A manicured finger innocently traced a path down his stomach, pausing as she encountered each ridge of muscle. "I do declare, "she whispered, her voice breezing sensually into Daniel's ears, "You grow handsomer every day." She paused and moved closer toward him, her lips now mere inches from Daniel's. "Father is going to Atlanta tomorrow," she informed him, "and he's leaving me to run the plantation while he's gone." "Really?" Daniel replied, "and what does that have to do with me?" Amber licked her lips, and less innocently cupped Daniel's crotch, "It has everything to do with you." She stepped forward and kissed Daniel lightly on the lips. Then, without another word, she spun around and headed into the kitchen. Daniel stood frozen as his eyes followed the lascivious motion of Amber's voluptuous hips. He gulped loudly. A sudden noise caught his attention and he whipped his head to the left, where he was surprised by the sight of Amber's mother, who was no longer dead, but had been unexpectedly written back into the story.
"I see my daughter has taken a liking to you," she noted, sashaying into the room, her enormous bosom straining against the fabric of her baseball uniform. "And as Michael Jackson used to sing, 'Mama say mama sa mamacusa.'" With these words she stepped forward and licked the combination of oil and sweat off Daniel's bronzed chest. "Yummy," she moaned. She was close enough that Daniel could smell the sickly sweet combination of perfume and whiskey that Mariah Grey seemed to favor. With great self-control, Daniel managed to push her away. "This isn't right ma'am," he stammered. "What would your husband think?" "I don't give a damn what he thinks!" Mariah roared, pinioning Daniel's hands to her breasts. "Now get on your knees and service me!" "Mrs. Grey!" Daniel uttered, shocked at her aggressiveness, "You know it isn't Thursday!"
"It isn't Thursday?" another voice interjected. It was Chester Grey, home from his weekly NAMBLA meeting. "I completely lose track of time whenever I'm discussing man-boy love." Mrs. Grey quickly released Daniel's hands, though her swollen nipples still jutted out like two angry midgets running a 100-meter race. Mrs. Grey and Daniel both turned to look at Mr. Grey, dreading his reaction. Fortunately, Mr. Grey was holding the quilt he had just completed up to the light, looking for errors in the pattern, and had missed the entire spectacle. Mrs. Grey stepped to Daniel's right, and leaned in close enough so that only he could hear her voice, "This isn't finished. I'm going to make you my bitch." She then entered the kitchen, rubbing her bodacious ta-tas against Daniel's shoulder as she passed by.
"Well," Mr. Grey said, "What's good for the gander is good for the goose." He stepped forward and placed a supple hand on Daniel's chest. "Oh good lord," muttered Daniel. "What's that?" asked Mr. Grey, staring hungrily at Daniel's package. "I, uh, have to, uh, feed the dog," spluttered Daniel, hastily backing out the door.
Daniel ambled along the side of the house, pondering the events of the last few moments. "I don't understand any of this," he thought. "A few paragraphs ago, Mrs. Grey was dead, and now I'm performing a booty call on her every Thursday; Mr. Grey is a raging homosexual plantation owner; and Amber, well, Amber's one lusty little trollop. The entire family wants to use me as their plaything! What will I do?" As these thoughts tumbled around his keen Jewish mind, Daniel spotted Katie, the Grey's feisty French poodle. Katie was not a normal dog, for she could talk, albeit with a heavy French accent.
"Bon jour," she greeted him, arising from her normal resting spot underneath the magnificent magnolia tree that overlooked the manor. "You have ze look of pain on your face," she said. "As always, you're very perceptive Katie," replied Daniel, petting her head. "Perhaps Katie make ze pain go away, no?" Katie asked him, her tail wagging erotically. "Oh no, Katie, not you also!" Daniel cried. "Is zere a problem?" she asked placing her paws on his chest. "You are ze man, I am ze bitch. I have needs, you have needs. What ees wrong with that?" She licked his face eagerly. "Down girl!" Daniel shouted, pushing her paws away. "This is unnatural!" "But I am in heat for you, Daniel. I need your sweet love," Katie barked. "Woof, woof." Daniel could bear it no longer. He turned and raced away into the meadow behind the house, his heart beating frantically. He could hear the faint sounds of Katie's barking as he collapsed in the center of the field.
.... There is more of this story ...