Scenes from the Class Struggle in Sherwood Forest

 

“We’ll be stealing from the rich and giving to the poor,” Robin Hood explained as he leant back against a large oak tree hidden deep within the forest.

“The Lord did forbid stealing,” replied Friar Tuck. “It’s one of the big ten no-noes!”

“Property is theft!” the green-clad leader of the Merry Men declared zealously.

“That being the case, I’ll just rescue this piece of ill-gotten loot,” the Friar laughed as he gobbled down the shepherd’s pie Robin had cooked for his lunch.

“Not my property, you pig!”

“I’m afraid I’m a slow learner in the ways of wickedness.”

“We’ll be helping the poor,” Robin started again. “That’s in your line of business, isn’t it?”

“To be sure. Feed the hungry, shelter the homeless and clothe the naked,” the holy man declared with satisfaction.

“Well the hungry now is me, since you ate my lunch!”

But the Friar’s mind was wondering.

“Of course a person can have too much of a good thing, as well,” he explained. “Some of my charming lady parishioners needed to be relieved of their clothes in order that they could have a divine blessing bestowed upon them…”

“Too much of a good thing!” Robin broke in excitedly. “Think of it as a favour we are doing for the rich to rescue them from the stagnation of sufficiency.”

Tuck grabbed Robin’s mug of mead and drained it.

“You’ve won me over!” he cried.

“Will you stop taking what’s not yours!” Robin complained.

“You are going to have to make up your mind, my son,” replied Tuck, and let out a resounding belch.

*     *     *

Bartholomew and Thaddeus were two of the Sheriff of Nottingham’s best men. It was their job to transport the big bags of tax money from the local towns to the Nottingham Bank. They did this in a horse drawn cart.

On the day in question, the cart was bumping along the rugged road through the forest, the bags of money dappled with the sunlight which penetrated the foliage above.

“Thud!” came the sound of a knife embedding itself in a tree trunk beside the road. There was a note attached.

Bartholomew jumped down from the cart and read the note aloud.

“Dear Bartholomew and Thaddeus (hey! it’s for us!), We are a pair of horny forest nymphs and we are just dying to fuck you! (oh, wow!) Take off all of your clothes and run, don’t walk, down to the riverbank where we are waiting. You’ll have to be quick as we can only linger in the material realm for another fifteen minutes.”

It was a matter of seconds before the Sheriff of Nottingham’s most trusted guards were running naked through the forest, leaving the money unguarded.

“Like stealing candy from a baby,” said Will Scarlet to Robin Hood as they dropped from the trees and dragged the bags of money to their campsite. Friar Tuck grabbed the guard’s clothes. It would be a long time before they showed their faces again in the city.

*     *     *

The next day, Robin Hood set off to give a share of the stolen money to a person of impoverished circumstances.

He chose Farmer Giles. Farmer Giles worked a farm owned by a wealthy nobleman. In return he received only food and lodging.

“I bring you good tidings!” Robin cried as he waved to the farmer, who was standing on the porch of the farm house.

“Good tidings would be most welcome,” replied the grey-bearded man who looked older than his years.

“You are now a man of wealth,” Robin returned with a grin.

“How can such a thing be?”

“I have a big bag of money for you,” he explained, holding it up.

“What do wish to purchase?” the farmer wanted to know. “I have nothing.”

At this moment, Melanie, the farmer’s auburn-haired daughter, walked out of the barn, having finished her task of milking the cows.

Robin’s eyes were drawn Melanie’s pretty rosy face and her impressive breasts which threatened to burst free from her simple peasant dress.

“Ah, I understand!” exclaimed the farmer. “You are willing to pay much money to fuck my daughter.”

“No! No!” cried Robin in frustration. “Maybe I could come inside for a moment or two and attempt to explain the concept of wealth redistribution.”

“What’s going on, father?” asked Melanie.

“This man wants to give us money, but he won’t say what he wants to buy,” he explained.

“We don’t have anything,” she put in.

“I thought he wanted to pay to fuck you,” the farmer told her. “But he said he doesn’t.”

“That’s a pity! I could do with a good seeing to,” she responded.

“It’s nothing personal,” stammered a flustered Robin. “I do find you attractive.”

“No shit!” Melanie guffawed. “Is that an arrow in your tights! I think I just saw it quiver.”

There was no alternative but to bow to the inevitable.

Robin Hood reached over and squeezed Melanie’s meaty thigh.

Melanie took him by the hand and led him towards the barn. Before they entered she bent down and grabbed the hem of her skirt and pulled it up over her body. She was stark naked as she dropped it in the dust beside her. Robin sighed deeply as he drank in the heaven of her massive breasts and wide thighs and the tangle of ginger pubes that hid her palace of pleasure. Her eyes had a naughty twinkle as she turned around and dragged Robin into the barn, her soft pink bottom wobbling before him.

“Look the other way, Bessy,” she told the cow.

When they arrived at the mound of hay in the corner, which seemed the ideal location on which to fuck, she pulled down Robin’s green tights. The amplitude of his ardour was demonstrated by the rigidity of his rod.

“I don’t know why you tried to deny that you want me,” she murmured, lightly running her fingers up and down his stiff prick. “Just shy I guess.”

She covered his cock with kisses and then began slurping on it like it was some sweet delight.

“I like this better than milking cows,” she sighed.

Soon Robin was naked and she was astride him in the hay. He loved the way her naked breasts pushed in soft warmth against his sweaty hairy chest, and she loved the way he spanked her bum as she rode his cock.

“Ooooooohhhhh!” Melanie quivered as she came, and a second later Robin spurted inside her.

*     *     *

“They wouldn’t take the money except as payment for something,” Robin explained to Will Scarlet and Friar Tuck. “I had to accept sexual services.”

“That’s a coincidence. Me too,” replied Will.

At that point, the ironically named Little John entered the campsite leading a very old skinny cow.

“They insisted that I take it,” he sighed.

“Who did you give your money to, Will?” asked Robin.

“Old Horace the Hobo,” Will informed him.

“But I thought you said you had to accept sexual services,” Robin queried.

“I’m trying not to the think about it,” he groaned.

*     *     *

“Let’s try a drop and run policy,” Robin suggested. “We can leave a bag of money outside people’s houses by night. They won’t know where it came from and so we can save ourselves from being ideologically compromised by commercial transactions.”

So that’s what they did. They delivered ten bags of money by the front doors of ten houses in the middle of the night.

The next morning there was a knock on the door of the Sheriff of Nottingham.

“Come in,” he said.

A peasant entered his office. He didn’t know his name. He didn’t pay much attention to peasants.

“Sir, a rich man has obviously been careless and lost a bag of money. I found it near my front door. I’m sure he will be missing it,” he explained.

“Hmmmm. And I suppose you are expecting a reward,” the Sheriff, grumbled.

“Only the reward that comes to all righteous souls when they act as their brother’s keeper,” he explained with a bow and a tug of the forelock.

Another face appeared around the door.

“Sir, I think this big bag of money must belong to a rich man…” the newcomer began.

Soon, there were ten bags of money in the Sheriff of Nottingham’s office.