by Ray Gordon
Chapter Two
Pacing the lounge floor at eight o'clock, Will turned his thoughts to Marianne. Perhaps she was the spy? She wasn't Mrs Baxter's daughter, that was for sure. She probably wasn't anyone's daughter. Did she even exist? She might have been a figment of Will's imagination. She may have come over him in a wet dream, he contemplated. He'd have to give the girl a damned good rogering and bugger the truth out of her the next time she materialized, he decided. There again, Sister Crotchly might be working for some tabloid newspaper or other. It might have been best to give everyone a damned good anal rogering and bugger the truth out of them. He was becoming paranoid, he ruminated, adjusting his semi-erect penis through his cassock. No one was spying on him. Were they?
Grabbing a can of lager from the fridge, he began to think the nun wasn't going to turn up. Perhaps she was masturbating, he thought. Perhaps she was lying on her bed with her legs wide apart and her fingers shoved up her wet pussy as she frigged her clitoris to orgasm. There again, perhaps she was still doing the ironing. Why fuck about doing the ironing when she had a pussy to play with? If he had a pussy he'd be fingering and frigging all day and night. Just when he was in desperate need of a shaved teen fanny, it seemed that he was going to have to spend the evening alone. Just when he was thirsty for fresh cunt-milk, hungry for... The doorbell ringing, he rubbed his hands together gleefully and dashed into the hall. He might not have to resort to wanking after all.
"Ah, Sister Crotchly," he grinned, opening the door to the girl.
"Please, call me Lolita," she said, her smiling face framed by her wimple.
"Oh, yes, of course. Will..."
"Will I what?"
"No, that's my name. Will, as in William the conqueror of women. Come unto me and into my lounge and over my..."
"I have a slight problem," she breathed, following him into the lounge and peering out of the window. "I think I was tailed."
"Tailed?" he echoed. "You mean, someone buggered you? Bloody hell."
"No. Tailed, as in followed. The fucking Reverend Slapper... The slag-bitch was hovering by the main entrance so I slipped out of the side door. I'm sure she followed me through the grounds to the lane."
"That's rather unfortunate," Will said, scratching his balls. "If she catches you with your knickers down... Er... That was a figure of speech," he chuckled. "I didn't mean it lecherously... Literally. I was speaking figuratively."
"She'd have a job, seeing as I'm not wearing any knickers," the girl giggled.
"Oh, right."
"I get so hot and sweaty," she said, pulling her habit out of her anal crease. "I never wear anything beneath my habit. Oh, is that your wife?" she asked, admiring a framed picture of Josie on the mantlepiece.
"No, no... That's my great, great brother."
"But, it's a girl."
"He was a transvestite."
Will was wasting time, he knew as his cock stiffened. Only inches beneath the black material of her habit lay the hot wet sheath of her pussy, the tight duct of her lickable bottom. How did he broach the subject of fucking? Any chance of casual sex? May I tongue-fuck your cunt? Would you mind terribly if I were to fist-fuck your rectum?
Pondering Amber, a girl who'd moved into the village just before he'd left the priesthood, Will grinned. She used to faint for no apparent reason, collapse to the floor with her skirt up and lie there for twenty minutes or more. Being a priest, a man of God, Will never took advantage of her plight. Well, not much...
Deciding to try his luck by pretending to pass out, he was sure the naughty girl would succumb to her inner desires once she caught sight of his rock-hard cock.
"I wasn't cut out to be a fucking nun," she sighed, spying through the net curtains. "Stuck in the bloody convent day in day out... I'm used to clubbing and drinking, having fun."
"It must be quite a culture shock," Will replied. "I suppose you miss having relationships."
"Yes I do. It's not natural, going without sex. I feel fucking starved."
So did he. "Oh, I've come over a little dizzy," he said, holding his head.
"Are you all right?" she asked, turning and facing him. "You're not pregnant, are you?"
"Pregnant? No, no... It's the heat. I tend to blackout when I get too hot. Wearing this cassock doesn't help." He felt far more comfortable when completely naked.
"That's why I never wear panties beneath my habit."
"Neither do I. Well, not very often."
"So, where's your church? The church of the... What was it called?"
"Er... The Unholy Union of the Wretched Souls. It's here, in the house."
"Really?"
"It's a temporary measure. A measure of temporaryness. Is that right? Temporaryness? Goodness me, it seems to be getting hotter," he gasped, mopping his brow with the back of his hand. "Should I pass out, don't worry about me. I usually come off... Come round in about fifteen minutes."
"Have you been to the doctor about it?"
"Yes, but he wasn't much help. He suggested that I leave it alone... Oh, I see what you mean. He said there was nothing I could do about it. At least I have some warning when I'm about to..."
Lifting his cassock as Lolita again peered out of the window, he dropped to the floor and sprawled out. His erect cock exposed, his full balls rolling, he watched the girl through his eyelashes as she knelt by his side and asked whether he was all right. Unmoving, he breathed deeply as if asleep, praying for her to touch his exposed penis, pull his foreskin back and run her fingertip over the sensitive bulb of his glans. Was she into oral sex? Much to Will's disgruntlement, she pulled his cassock down and placed a cushion beneath his head. Fuck, he thought agitatedly as she sat on the sofa. That worked well.
"Will," she finally breathed after several minutes. Slipping off the sofa, she knelt by his side. "Fifteen minutes," she muttered, tentatively pulling his cassock up over his stomach. Eyeing the veined shaft of his cock, she stroked his scrotum. His penis twitching expectantly, he was sure she wouldn't hesitate to lift her habit and impale herself on his magnificent shaft. But he wasn't so sure that she was a little cumslut. If she wasn't, she soon would be. Grabbing his fleshy cock she gently squeezed. "Fifteen minutes," she again breathed, looking up at the clock.
This was a prayer come true, Will knew as she ran her hand up and down his veined shaft, his foreskin rolling back and forth over the ballooning glans of his massive cock. It was obviously a sign from God, he reflected. A girl coming to his house, gripping his cock... Locked up in the convent she must have been dying for a length of meaty cock, he mused. Yes, he thought happily as she fully retracted his foreskin and moved her open mouth towards his glistening knob. There was nothing like having a girl gobble your cock.
"Oh," she gasped, sitting upright as the doorbell rang. "It's fuck-face," she murmured. "Will, wake up. The Reverend fucking Mother's here."
Lying perfectly still Will knew that suddenly emerging from his unconscious state might arouse the girl's suspicion. The hag couldn't get into the house, so there was no need to worry. This added credence to his blackout, he reflected as the girl perched her biteable buttocks on the sofa. Remaining on the floor in time of a diabolical crisis was a brilliant move. Lolita would be convinced he was out cold and not hesitate to suck his knob and piston her wet cunt with his granite-hard cock-shaft.
Once the hag-bag had gone the nun would settle on the floor again and suck his knob, he was sure. Either that or kneel astride him and thrust his cock up her tight pussy or force his swollen knob deep into the heat of her bottom and bounce up and down until he spunked or... The doorbell ringing again, he prayed for the Mother Inferior to fuck off and leave him to his decadent ways.
"Thank God," Lolita breathed after a few minutes of silence. Settling on the floor again, she took the solid shaft of Will's cock in her hand and examined the glistening bulb of his purple knob. "It's so big," she whispered, running her fingertip over his sperm-slit. Leaning forward, she parted her full red lips and sucked his
swollen glans into her wet mouth. Breathing heavily, Will tried to remain perfectly still as he felt her tongue slithering over the silky-smooth surface of his sex-globe, her slender fingers kneading his fully-loaded balls. Taking his swollen plum to the back of her throat, she mouthed and gobbled, gently sinking her teeth into his veined shaft. Her fingertip teasing the sensitive skin between his scrotal sac and his anal entrance, she certainly knew what she was doing.
A cumslut of experience, Will mused as she raised her head and engulfed the rim of his glans between her succulent lips. This was what life was all about, he knew as she teased the sensitive tissue of his anus. A girl sucking his cock, desperate to swallow his sperm... Who needed marriage? As she tried to push the tip of her tongue into his knob-slit, Will did his best not to move.
His body trembling, his breathing fast and shallow, he knew that he was about to fill her pretty mouth with his spunk.
Stifling a moan of decadent pleasure as his sperm coursed along his penile shaft and spurted from his sex-slit, his body rigid, he dug his fingernails into the carpet as she drank from his fount of lust. His rolling balls draining, he felt her tongue snaking over his throbbing glans, lapping up his orgasmic fluid as he quivered in his debased pleasure. She really was experienced, he reflected as she repeatedly took his purple pleasure-head to the back of her hot throat.
Sucking and swallowing hard, she didn't waste one drop of male liquid. He could hear her gulping down his testicular cream, her slurps resounding around the room as she sucked the remnants of his orgasmic liquid from his veined rod of carnal lust. Finally slipping his knob out of her mouth and running her spunk-wet tongue all over his balls, she moaned softly through her nose. She was surely in need of a damned good clitoral licking after her mouth-fuck, Will thought in his wickedness. No doubt she'd squat over his face and grind her wet cuntal folds into his thirsty mouth and squeeze out her lubricious juices of desire and...
"My God!" the Mother Superior exclaimed as she burst into the room.
"Oh," Lolita gasped, her tongue licking her spunked lips. "Er... Mother..."
"Entercock, what on earth do you...?"
"He passed out," the girl explained.
"I'm not surprised."
"No, no. You see, he has blackouts. I was just..."
"Get back to the convent," the hag-bag spat, her clenched fists resting on her ample hips. "Never have I witnessed such despicable behaviour."
"But, Mother..." the girl stammered, leaping to her feet and making for the door.
"You're going to find out what ironing is really about, my girl. Now, get back to the convent and wait in my office."
As the girl fled the room Will remained perfectly still. He had to continue with the fainting scam, even though it would result in dropping Lolita in the crap. The very day Josie cleared off there was trouble, he reflected as he watched the Reverend Mother through his eyelashes. But it wasn't his fault he'd passed out and had been taken advantage of by a pretty girl with a rampant thirst for spunk. It could have happened to anyone, he tried to convince himself, aware of the hag-bag gazing at his cock lying slug-like over his hairy scrotum. He hoped she was not going to suck him off!
"Get up, Entercock," she hissed, kicking his arm.
"Oh, oh," he moaned, propping himself up on his elbows. "Er... What happened?"
"You know very well what happened."
"Am I dead? Oh, Reverend... What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
"Through the back door."
"What I want to know is, what were you doing to that poor girl?"
"Poor girl?" he asked, clambering to his feet and looking about him in a most perplexed manner. "I don't know any poor girls. I once knew a girl who was rich, but she..."
"Don't start your old rubbish, Entercock. I know you, making out that you're innocent when you're as guilty as..."
"Hell?"
"Blasphemer. That girl was licking..."
"Which girl?"
"Oh, I see. You're going to make out that you knew nothing about Sister Crotchly being here and... and committing vulgar sexual acts with you."
"Good grief," he gasped, holding his hand to his head. "Vulgar sexual acts? Here, in my very house?"
"Here, on your very lounge floor."
"My very lounge floor?"
"Your very stained lounge carpet. My God, you're a sad man, Entercock. I shall ring the Bishop again. And this time he won't believe that I invited you into my office for elevenses, afternoon tea, high tea, or anything else."
"Morning tea?"
"I'll see to it that you're put down, Entercock. You mark my words."
"I once had a pussy put down."
A woman scorned, and all that, Will thought as she stormed out of the house. He'd had the spunk sucked out of his cock, which couldn't be too bad a start to Josie's time away. But the night was young, and he wondered what to do for the rest of the evening as he grabbed another can of lager from the fridge. There was always the pub, he ruminated. Sixteen pints of lager, a few jokes and a laugh...
Wandering into the dining room he opened the patio doors and began flinging the furniture out into the garden. A perfectly normal thing to do on a hot summer evening. The large room would make an ideal bar, he mused, dragging the sideboard into the garden. The table and chairs, the Welsh dresser... The room finally cleared, he stacked the furniture up in the garden and poured a can of petrol over it. Striking a match, he tossed it into the antiques and stood back as the flames shot up into the evening sky.
He'd tell Josie that they'd been burgled, he decided, taking another can of lager from the fridge as the fire raged. It wasn't his fault that they'd been broken into and the dining room completely stripped of valuable antiques. He'd been in the pub... No. He'd been shopping in the village when the thieves had struck. They must have had a van. It had been bloody fortunate that Will had returned before they'd stripped the lounge. Grabbing the phone as his plan came together, he rang the landlord of the local pub.
"Jack, it's Will," he said. "Are you busy?"
"Fuck off," the man returned endearingly. "Fucking busy? Huh, that'll be the fucking day."
"I'm building a bar in my dining room and wondered whether you had any fittings."
"I've got some fucking old pumps and stuff in the fucking cellar if that's any fucking use to you."
"Great. I haven't built the bar yet. I'll have to nick some wood from somewhere."
"There's a fucking bar out back. The fucking brewery ripped the fucking thing out last fucking year. It's in one piece, if you fucking want it."
"If I fucking want it? Fucking right, I do. OK, I'll arrange fucking transport"
"This is going to be for your private fucking use, isn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"You're not thinking of setting up in fucking competition and..."
"Jack, how could you think such a thing?"
"Because I know you of fucking old. I wouldn't fucking put anything past you."
"It's for my private use. I swear on your mother's life."
"That's all fucking right, then. Hang on, I'll pass you over to Steve."
"Steve?"
"He's a fucking builder. He's staying at the fucking pub while he does some fucking work in the fucking village. He's got a fucking truck. He might be able to bring the fucking bar over."
"There's no need for me to speak to him. Tell him to bring it over now. I'll pay him, of course."
"You'd fucking better. He's built like a fucking brick shithouse. And his fucking mate's even fucking bigger."
"OK, OK. Tell them to bring it over now. And any other bits and pieces you might have. You know, optics, pumps, pipes, coolers, an ice making machine, several barrels of lager and bitter, a few crates of vodka and..."
"Will?"
"Yes?"
"Fuck off."
Clapping his hands, Will couldn't believe his luck. Josie would go mental, of course. Her brain would boil and implode before exploding and...
But she wasn't due home for two months. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it, he decided. Besides, she'd probably love a bar in the dining room. No, perhaps not. Whose house was it, anyway? He grabbed another can of lager from the fridge. Fucking women think they can fucking move in and fucking throw their fucking weight about and take fucking charge of your fucking life and... and there was nothing you could fucking do about it. The price one paid for a resident fanny, Will mused, wondering whether to have a quick wank.
"He's up to no good," the Reverend Mother said, gazing across her desk at the Bishop. "Unless we stop him now, nip him in the bud..."
"Yes, I agree," the Bishop broke in, scratching his balding head. "But what can we do? He's done nothing illegal."
"Yet."
"I have no authority over him, Reverend Mother. He's no longer answerable to me or the church."
"So, we're going to stand back and do nothing? Another digestive biscuit?"
"Don't mind of I do. You said that Sister Crotchly went to his house?"
"She was... They were committing a vile act of sexual degradation, Bishop."
"Sister Crotchly was having sex with Entercock?" he gasped, dropping crumbs down his cassock.
"Yes. Sex of the most vulgar kind."
"The lucky... I mean, that's despicable."
"Exactly. And you want to sit back and do nothing?"
"I don't want to do nothing. I just don't see what we can do. If one of your nuns is having sex, then it's down to you to deal with her. Say she'd been having sex with a man from the village. There'd be nothing you could do. You could hardly tell the man to leave the girl alone. And it's the same with Entercock. He's free to screw... He's free to have sexual relationships with whom he likes."
"We'll have to resort to devious means, Bishop," she said mysteriously, her beady eyes locked to his as she took another digestive biscuit from the plate.
"Devious means?"
"We've done it before and we'll do it again. I suggest we trick Entercock. I'll invite him here and have one of the nuns accuse him of doing the most disgusting things to her."