Dearest Somersby, 

Last fall, do you remember?  Those mornings beneath the weeping willow, I remember looking down into your beautiful eyes and thinking that life teetered on the brink of perfection.  Only a cancellation of the coming winter and a continuous autumn would make it more perfect. To cascade our canopy with the rich deep colours of fall. 

But, as all things do, our time together came to an end.  Although I have sifted through the winter months by the lake, I’ve been struck by a most dreadful melancholy.  I rarely let it show, but inside I felt the emptiness of the days at my precious lake, before you, dearest Somersby came along and swept my heart away. How I miss you.  I miss your kisses and the way you laughed at me for not wanting to go swimming in the nude.  You taunted me about not caring what others might think of us. You, yourself, had no such qualms. You stood like Adonis to the rising sun and dropped your trousers. You swept me away with the look of you.  Your scent, it’s musk kissing my nose as it drifted from you.  I watched as the sun glistened from the light layer of perspiration on your shoulders. I wanted so to lick it from your skin.  To taste you as the delicacy you are to me. I refrained, absorbing the vision before me instead. I watched your buttocks as you crouched, feeling the chilly water of the early morning. 

That particular day by the lake will stand in the halls of my memory as perhaps one of the most amazing sights I’ve ever witnessed. You stood up from your crouch, stretching your arms high above your head and arching your back, prepared to dive into the chill water of the stream.  You looked like a Greek athlete ready for the games, my Somersby.  Your body seemed as bronze at that moment when the morning met the golden rays of the sun.  It took my breath away, so beautiful was the image.  

Your body sliced into the water and my eyes were riveted to your perfect bottom.  I watched it disappear into the water and waited, my breath held fast. The morning stood as in a dream. Even the bees by the bank river flowers flew in slow motion.  And suddenly you came straight up out of the water, your skin gooseflesh yet sporting a magnificent healthy flush. Your muscles detailed themselves into a work of art, your body perfection at that moment. 

I remember vividly reaching under the blanket I lay beneath, my body still relaxed from our lovemaking earlier.  I let my fingers drift about lightly around my bud, hard and alive.  I watched your body as the water ran in rivulets from your hair and shoulders. You stood there, beautiful in your naked state.  I almost fainted, my body feeling as though it were on fire all over again. Just the site of you and I wanted to ride your beautiful cock again.  I wanted to feel your lips on mine and your manhood buried deep inside my body. I wanted to ride you hard once more.  Instead I watched you swim and reveled in that sight. 

Dearest lover, how can I ever wait the fortnight until you are here with me once more. I shall have my Somersby  by the Lake once again.  I shall take you to its banks and spread our tartan blanket, strip ourselves of our clothes and make love in the morning dew once again.  I shall ride you and ride you hard.  I shall lick your god-like body and suck on your rod until you spill your seed deep in my throat.  I shall suck and lick your balls, teasing each one as it responds to my touch. 

I shall look deep into your eyes, dear dear Somersby, and I shall know that once again, life is perfection.  God has handed us perfection.



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Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries had its humble beginnings as an idea of a few artisans and craftsmen who enjoy performing with live steel fighting. As well as a patchwork quilt tent canvas. Most had prior military experience hence the name.


Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries.


Vendertainers that brought many things to a show and are know for helping out where ever they can.

As well as being a place where the older hand made items could be found made by them and enjoyed by all.

We expanded over the years to become well known at what we do. Now we represent over 100 artisans and craftsman that are well known in their venues and some just starting out. Some of their works have been premiered in TV, stage and movies on a regular basis.

Specializing in Medieval, Goth , Stage Film, BDFSM and Practitioner.

Patchwork Merchant Mercenaries a Dept of, Ask For IT was started by artists and former military veterans, and sword fighters, representing over 100 artisans, one who made his living traveling from fair to festival vending medieval wares. The majority of his customers are re-enactors, SCAdians and the like, looking to build their kit with period clothing, feast gear, adornments, etc.

Likewise, it is typical for these history-lovers to peruse the tent (aka mobile store front) and, upon finding something that pleases the eye, ask "Is this period?"

A deceitful query!! This is not a yes or no question. One must have a damn good understanding of European history (at least) from the fall of Rome to the mid-1600's to properly answer. Taking into account, also, the culture in which the querent is dressed is vitally important. You see, though it may be well within medieval period, it would be strange to see a Viking wearing a Caftan...or is it?

After a festival's time of answering weighty questions such as these, I'd sleep like a log! Only a mad man could possibly remember the place and time for each piece of kitchen ware, weaponry, cloth, and chain within a span of 1,000 years!! Surely there must be an easier way, a place where he could post all this knowledge...

Traveling Within The World is meant to be such a place. A place for all of these artists to keep in touch and directly interact with their fellow geeks and re-enactment hobbyists, their clientele.

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