The clash of love and lust is a predictable affair. Any sane person would promptly answer upon enquiry that lust is the sole contender for victory and none other. I was not unaware of this concoction, for which I would be frequently subjected to upon demand. At times in the tunnels while at others, through valleys my journey was an eventful hippodrome which ceased to excite only when its capstone was put into place. I’m a redhead although many consider me a pink-head (what’s that btw?). I’ve got a healthy body with large bottoms and although people don’t consider me a bombshell, I’m capable to explode any when put before me.

You guessed it right, I’m Russel, The One Eyed Muscle and my friends call me a dick. I’m fortunate enough to have been erected amidst the likes of princes and princesses, wives and mistresses, valets and waitresses to name a few. I am the King’s Penis. Not only I command authority over my counterparts, I am far more privileged than the countryside’s laymen themselves who provide their assets, without the phonetic pun, at my beck and call. My ways are sagacious enough to make certain that the laymen get their share of fodder on my behalf before the winter sets in. This is the noble give and take philosophy in which my forefathers have engaged throughout their muscular age. Many of you might be wondering why I’m not peregrinating in a pussy or an ass or rather a navel or a mouth. I want to tell you guys, think beyond these things. Those places are the thing of the past for me. But stop underestimating me. Although I’m well past my age of salutation, I can still puke at them hard. This is a period of my life where I’ve been given space to write my memoirs and so here I am documenting some of my favorites.

Memoirs are in the thousands, but the best I shall reserve for you, my friends. So here I go. It was a turbulent time for the Kingdom. The King was a in a sorry state. Infighting amongst the kin and threats from once loyal neighbors had reduced the Kingdom’s reputation to mockery. I had almost forgotten the last time I went for an outing. Those were the times, unfortunately, when I was in my prime, the golden age of 50. I was a seasoned campaigner by then and not only was I revered owing to my social status but also due to my on-field exploits which had gained fame across distant lands. In a dilemma such as this one, my inner devil heated up. I wanted to revamp my old habits. Nostalgia was pulling me towards it. The King’s lust for carnal desires, thus, overpowered his love for the masses. I knew he had his eyes set on the virgin daughter of the main rival King since quite a few years. He used to stir me when he looked at her in events of official visits to neighboring states. Now, when conflict prevailed throughout his kingdom, he sought to satisfy his urge to pop her cherry himself. By this time you all must’ve surely ascertained the physique and appearance of the King. Yes, he was an able bodied handsome man many a women lusted for. He himself was an aphrodisiac for them and resisting him would be as difficult as resisting air from entering the breathing orifices. Would this step of taking the rival’s daughter lead to his kingdom’s doom? Would it help his kingdom in regaining lost glory?

Would this result in an alliance? Would I be the hero of love or the incarnation of lust? Read on. One month of turmoil was past us and the King decided to pay a visit to our largest neighbor and our fiercest rival. The previous night I could feel his hormones trying to get on and about. The harem had been denied single or multiple congress with him since two weeks and that night was no exception except that I had woken up to rule him defeating his mind in that context. He was premeditating his moves. Putting it in a better way, I was premeditating my moves for the next couple of weeks. He tried to mix my interests with the interest of his kingdom and the devil that I was, I coerced him to yield to my demands. It was decided between us that as soon as his official meeting with the neighboring King was done with, he would seduce the young princess and strip her off her prized virgin layers. They say when kings enter cities, they destroy them. How ironically it was true in this case. Although he was evidently going with the intent of seeking help and safety, he was a shrewd tactician in not letting his counterpart get better off him for good. He would destroy his daughter. On the fourth morning of our journey, we saw the Rival’s flag welcoming us to the capital of our neighbor. Our delegation was accorded due respect barring the occasional taunts meted out to the King by the rival peoples. Little did they know what was to ensue and had they known, they would have not only locked the doors of their houses but also the skirts their wives wore. We reached the castle gates where the Rival had disallowed his harem to step out fearing the King’s penetrating intentions which followed him wherever he went.

I was surprised that the King brushed his hands on me. I woke up and saw none but the daughter of the Rival standing by his side, staring at the King trying to consume his irresistible resplendence. The Rival’s first folly was espied. He had not anticipated what the King had in mind. The Rival had helped the King accomplish his very first task. He had neglected to pay heed to a golden rule – Fresh flowers are always better than wilted roses. A little stare like the flash of lightening was enough to make its mark. The first nail was hammered. That day was spent in negotiations. Apparently the Rival wanted the King to recognize his superiority and pay him 100 thousand gold coins per annum as tribute in exchange of security and armed assistance, if the need arose, to our Kingdom. I knew what was going through his mind. I knew because his blood was gushing into me. I was gaining attention. The moment he signed on the parched script, the onlookers applauded loudly. The deal was struck, although a latent mistrust was manifest among those present. Yes, raw wounds take time to heal. A relevant antithesis would befit this occasion more – Raw wounds, when struck, make a mark for a lifetime.