TO BE DP'ed OR NOT TO BE DP'ed
HAMLET AT RAW FUCK CLUB
(“Hamlet” soliloquy, Act 3, scene 1)
To be DPed or not to be DPed, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in my flesh to suffer
The slings and arrows of an outrageous fuck club,
To be taken in two pairs of arms and by two great cocks -
Yet my hole opposes them.
Perchance to die – to be so thickly fucked
I can stand no more; and by being so I say an end
Of heart-ache and the wish for a thousand pounding blows
That my flesh is heir to.
It is a consummation devoutly I so wish. To fuck, to die;
To die, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the cockrub:
For in that fuck of death what dreams may come,
When I have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give me pause – this the respect
That I must give to their doubled flesh.
But could I bear the whips and scorn of those studs,
On me but not in me, two proud men’s thick cockmeat,
The pangs of their defeated lust, their shots delayed,
The insolence of their repelled assault, and their spurning
Of my unequal hole that they, impatient, find unworthy,
Where I myself might one bare bodkin take
With barely a quiver, but two, too much, too many.
Another may two men bear,
To grunt and sweat under their hard hammers,
But me, that dread of something after that first DP,
The undiscovered country from whose clutch
No bottom returns unmarked puzzles me,
And makes me rather bear their scorn
And fly to lesser trials of flesh.
Thus fear does make cowards of us all,
And the native hue of my resolution
Is sicklied over with the pale cast of doubt,
And this my enterprise greatly dreamed
With these questions its current dammed,
And I lose the name of action.
(With apologies to William Shakespeare, “Hamlet” Act 3, scene 1)
(“Hamlet” soliloquy, Act 3, scene 1)
To be DPed or not to be DPed, that is the question:
Whether ‘tis nobler in my flesh to suffer
The slings and arrows of an outrageous fuck club,
To be taken in two pairs of arms and by two great cocks -
Yet my hole opposes them.
Perchance to die – to be so thickly fucked
I can stand no more; and by being so I say an end
Of heart-ache and the wish for a thousand pounding blows
That my flesh is heir to.
It is a consummation devoutly I so wish. To fuck, to die;
To die, perchance to dream – ay, there’s the cockrub:
For in that fuck of death what dreams may come,
When I have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give me pause – this the respect
That I must give to their doubled flesh.
But could I bear the whips and scorn of those studs,
On me but not in me, two proud men’s thick cockmeat,
The pangs of their defeated lust, their shots delayed,
The insolence of their repelled assault, and their spurning
Of my unequal hole that they, impatient, find unworthy,
Where I myself might one bare bodkin take
With barely a quiver, but two, too much, too many.
Another may two men bear,
To grunt and sweat under their hard hammers,
But me, that dread of something after that first DP,
The undiscovered country from whose clutch
No bottom returns unmarked puzzles me,
And makes me rather bear their scorn
And fly to lesser trials of flesh.
Thus fear does make cowards of us all,
And the native hue of my resolution
Is sicklied over with the pale cast of doubt,
And this my enterprise greatly dreamed
With these questions its current dammed,
And I lose the name of action.
(With apologies to William Shakespeare, “Hamlet” Act 3, scene 1)
9 months ago