HANDCUFFS AND HAPPILY EVER AFTERS SERIES
Available as an ebook:
After all was said and done, the disgusting novella meant to destroy a story stealing New York Time’s best-selling author’s career was successful. Rena Gunderschlict, an accountant with no discernible literary talent, and her band of adorable porno writing grannies came up with the worst piece of literature, (and I use that word loosely), that was ever written. Amazingly enough, it became a cult classic. Who in the hell knew there was an underground need to know and love a Time- Traveling Vampire Warlock with erectile dysfunction and his conjoined lady loves, Laverne and Shirley? Apparently the need is there and now so is the full version of their story . . .
** Special Note from Author Robyn Peterman **
This is a spoof. A profane romance spoof not meant for anyone under 18. I was threatened lovingly and repeatedly by my readers to write the full version of Pirate Dave. He was born of the need to create a horrific career ending romance novel to destroy a really bad, nasty villainess . . . and Thank you Buddha in a tube top, it worked! I laughed my way through writing this and I hope you will enjoy this small slice of my warped brain. NO, this is not what I normally write, but I certainly had a good time penning it! If you want to read the real romance story, you’ll have to peruse HOW HARD CAN IT BE? You’ll find the first three chapters at the end of the hot mess you’re about to read . . . And now, I give you the career ending novella, (hopefully not mine) otherwise known as PIRATE DAVE AND HIS RANDY ADVENTURES.
READ AN EXCERPT
“Jesus Christ in a miniskirt,” Pirate Dave bellowed as the violent wind blew his matted hair into his eyes practically blinding him. Why the hell did a storm blow up every time he was about to get laid? The ship bucked like a horny bronco on the choppy green sea. The sky burned with a raging passion that rivaled his Johnson in his breeches. He grabbed the railing of the ship for purchase. “What in the hell is going on?”
“An earthquake,” squealed Crooked Jim, “and it’s a mother fucker!”
The motley crew scampered around the deck like clumsy asshole ninjas. They shrieked like girls and ran for cover.
“I don’t have time for this shit,” Dave muttered as he grabbed the wheel of the ship and headed for port.
The sea might have been angry, but the land was no kinder. The ground groaned and buckled beneath his boots. If that three-eyed fortune teller was yanking his chain, he would personally remove his man-bits with a dull butter knife. That stinky bastard had sworn Dave would find the most beautiful horny woman in the world . . . right here in Sydney, Australia. Of course the asshat had forgotten to mention that Dave would have to fight a deadly earthquake to reach his poontang. Whatever. He’d faced much worse. Like the hairless Catholic hookers who shape shifted into sex-addicted groundhogs. They posed as nuns by day. The convent doubled as a bordello. He’d had many randy, yet life threatening, nights with those bible thumping whores. Ahh, good times. Good times.
Pirate Dave, followed by part of his trusty crew, Hairy Sam and Hook, walked right into the mansion described by the fortune teller. He spit on his hand and slicked his greasy hair back while quickly diving to his right to avoid the chandelier falling from the ceiling. Jesus Christ, why in the hell hadn’t that stupid seer given him a weather report. Was that too fucking much to ask?
“Where is she?” Hairy Sam yelled as the roof began to cave in.
“The fuck if I know,” Pirate Dave shouted, hopping over empty broken chairs and empty broken tables.
“Let’s try upstairs.”
“There are no stairs,” Hook said pointing at the splintered mass of lumber that somewhat resembled steps. “Let’s get out of here!”
“Absolutely not,” Pirate Dave roared. “I am a Time-Traveling Vampire Warlock! Stairs are for assmonkeys!”
Hairy Sam and Hook trembled in abject terror and wonder as Dave flew up the former staircase like a drunken bat. Last time Dave had flown, he’d accidentally time-travelled to the prehistoric era and had almost mated with a dinosaur. Dave came to his senses when he realized the dinosaur had no breasts. Unable to get a woody for a scaly reptile with no bosom, Dave time- traveled back before he got eaten.
Dave sniffed the air, hoping for a whiff of a horny gal. “Son of a bitch,” he choked out, getting two nostrils full of crumbling plaster. “This sucks.”
He blew his nose on his sleeve and then ran through the hallway at vampire speed looking for his prize. The mansion was falling down around him. Literally.
He froze. His skin flute tingled and itched like a gnarly case of the shingles.
A locked door. The scent of not one, but two horny babes. Things were looking up. Dave got down on his knees and peered through the keyhole. Holy hell, they were twins.
Bodacious, red-headed twins. Bursting forth from their kelly green corsets, were two pairs of tremendous fun bags. They held each other lovingly, gazing into each other’s eyes. Fuck, that was hot. Pirate Dave had always dreamt about a three-way with identical twins. He was going to buy that fortune teller something really great, like a David Hasselhoff album or a complete season of Baywatch tapes. It was difficult to hear the girls, but Dave was a freakin’ vampire and could hear a pin drop in a hurricane.
“I had no idea he was a mime. He gave me his number, but I think it’s in brail,” the sexy one on the left said.
“Occasionally I forget how mentally unstable you are, and then you speak,” the hot one, with lovely melons, on the right replied.
“Thank you.” Lefty smiled and stroked her sister’s cheek. “I’d really like to boink a vampire. I’ve heard they have buttons on their testicles.”
“You really need to get a handle on your chemical imbalance,” Righty snapped. “I say these things because I care.”
“Seriously,” Lefty giggled. “The buttons come in handy if they suck out too much of your blood.”
“What if he’s a zombie?”
Were these chicks for real? Pirate Dave stroked his woodchuck and strained to hear more.
“I don’t know anything about zombies,” Lefty said, “but if you fornicate with a vamp, make sure you’re cupping his balls the entire time. The button on the right is the erection button and the button on the left is the weenie deflator. If you forget to cup the nut sack just knee the vamp in the testes. The buttons are extremely sensitive so you’re bound to activate one.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but what if you hit the erection button instead of the weenis killer?” Righty asked with an eye roll.
Dave reached into his breeches and examined his balls. Wait! Where in the hell were his buttons? He was a fucking vampire for shit’s sake. He shoved his porksword to the side to get a better feel of his scrodie sac. Damn it, no buttons. What the hell?
“Don’t worry, a double knee to the hard-on button will cause the vamp’s wiener to shrink to the size of a midget sweet pickle. It takes six months and four days for it to grow back to size. Most humans don’t have this info, so consider yourself privileged.”
“Again, I like to state that you are an insult to my intelligence and if I could kill you without dying myself . . . I would do it in a heartbeat,” Righty informed Lefty.
Dave had never been so turned on in his life and he’d been around for six hundred years. He had to get those sex kittens out of the house before it fell down for real and they died. He was no necrophiliac.
With a mighty heave he busted down the door, scaring the crap out of the girls and causing an avalanche of plaster and stone to fall. He could barely see his new girlfriends, but he was blessed with super-sonic smelling abilities and sniffed his way across the room.
“Who in the hell is that?” Lefty screamed in a voice that made Pirate Dave wince.
“I have no clue,” Righty shrieked above the din, “but he’s hot in a hairy, gross, unclean way.”
“Come with me,” Dave yelled. “I will save you and we will have a three-some!”
“What did he say?” Lefty asked.
“He’s going to save us and his name is Liam Neeson.”
“The one with the big . . . ”
The mansion groaned and came apart at an alarming rate. The hot, large hootered babes screamed and reached for Dave.
“Hold on to each other,” he shouted. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.” “Like we have any other choice,” Lefty muttered in disgust. Dave had no clue what she meant because all of his blood had moved out of his brain and down to his painfully humongous flesh trombone. He needed to get his gals out of there and back to his cabin. Pronto.