Depravicus

by Ray Gordon

  His sperm finally pumping along his twitching shaft and gushing from his knob-slit, Will gasped as he repeatedly rammed his swollen cock into her tight arse, filling her with his orgasmic cream. Bob's cock pumping spunk into her contracting cunt, lubricating the fucking, the girl flopped back and forth like a rag doll as her own orgasm erupted and tore through her. Her cries of satisfaction resounding around the trees as she held her legs behind her head, her juices mingling with the men's sperm, she shook violently.

  "Fucking hell," Will gasped, her anal tract gripping his pistoning shaft. "Where the hell did you find her?"

  "Picked her up at a car boot sale."

  "You bought her from a..."

  "No, she was wandering around so I took her under my wing. And my quilt."

  Their balls finally empty, they slowed their fucking rhythm, bringing the whimpering girl gently down from her sexual heaven. Slipping their spent cocks from her they lay on their backs relaxing beneath the trees as the girl writhed like a snake. She really was a little raver, Will again thought, watching her straighten her legs. Wondering whether Bob would allow him to borrow her for a few hours, he wondered what she was doing as she snapped a branch off a nearby bush and lay on her back with her legs behind her head again.

  Fucking hell, he thought as she thrashed the rounded cheeks of her naked buttocks, reddening her taut flesh as spunk issued from her gaping sex holes. Again and again she lashed her weal-lined bottom, gasping and quivering as the pain permeated her anal orbs. Will had thought Lana to be a contortionist, but she was nothing in comparison to this anal slut-tart. Finally discarding the branch, she pressed her full lips over the brown ring of her bottom-hole and sucked out the hot spunk. Yanking her crimsoned buttocks wide apart, she sucked hard, draining her bowels before locking her mouth to her vaginal entrance and drinking from her cunt. His cock stiffening as he watched the sex-crazed tart suck out the heady blend of her cunt-cream and Bob's sperm, Will reckoned that he should give the whore-bitch another good rogering.

  "She won't let you," Bob said as Will grabbed his solid cock and moved towards the girl-slag. "Not until she's finished cleansing herself, anyway."

  "She's incredible," Will grinned, settling on the grass.

  "You haven't seen the half of it."

  "Any chance of borrowing her for a few hours?"

  "I do hire her out sometimes. You know, just to bring in some beer money."

  "Talking of beer, I've set up a bar in the house. You'll have to come along this evening. And bring the girl-slag, of course."

  "OK, I'll look forward to it. I'll tell you what. You can hire the tart for an hour in exchange for six pints of lager."

  "Deal," Will grinned, watching the girl plunge half her fist into her anal canal. "I'm setting up a brothel in the shed. At least, I'm trying to."

  "Trying to?"

  "I don't know any prostitutes. All the birds I know fuck for free, which is no good when it comes to lining my pockets with gold. In fact, most of the tarts I know are willing to pay men for sex."

  "We should have got in touch earlier," Bob smiled. "I know dozens of prostitutes."

  "Really? Where are you living now?"

  "Funkton On The Hard. By the way, I saw Josie yesterday. I was going to call out but..."

  "Josie's in Moscow," Will broke in. "She went several days ago."

  "Then, what was she doing walking up the steps of the Honeydew Hotel yesterday?"

  "It must have been someone else."

  "It was Josie, all right. No doubt about it."

  "It can't have been," Will murmured. "It's just not possible."

  "I'm telling you it was her, Will. She was wearing that blue summer dress you bought her last year. You know, the one we inadvertently spunked over when we were all pissed."

  Rubbing his chin as the anal-tart stretched her limbs and relaxed on the grass, Will began to wonder whether Josie had returned from Moscow and was spying on him. Using the hotel as a base, she could jump on a bus to Cumsdale and creep around the village, lurk in bushes and watch his every move. She might well have been watching the double fucking, he thought fearfully, looking at the bushes surrounding the clearing. Not only was the village teeming with teenage dirt-bags, but now Josie might be roaming around. Fuck it.

  "That's typical of you," the Reverend Mother hissed as she emerged from the bushes and entered the clearing. "You're nothing but a man-slag."

  "Fuck me," Will gasped.

  "OK," the girl-tart grinned, spreading her naked thighs. "Let's fuck rotten."

  "Why don't you fuck off," Bob said, looking up at the Reverend Mother.

  "Yeah, fuck off," the whore-slut rejoined. "This is a private shagging party."

  "That's it, Entercock," the Reverend Mother scowled. "You're done for now."

  "It's not illegal to sunbathe naked in the woods," Will smiled. "Why don't you strip off and... On second thoughts, don't bother. Your leathery tits are probably carrying botulism."

  "I'm going straight to the Bishop."

  "Give the old cunt my regards," Bob chuckled, wanking his stiffening penis.

  "My God, you're both vile and disgusting. Never have I known..."

  "Fuck off, you slack-cunted hag," the girl-slut giggled. "You're not wanted here."

  "You'll be sorry, Entercock," the woman spat, turning and walking away. "Not only will you never preach again, you'll be banished from the village."

  "You're the one who'll be sorry," Will called. "Especially when I make it known that you took photographs of a girl sucking the Bishop's cock and drinking his spunk."

  "What? I did no such thing."

  "I have the photographs in my possession."

  "I know nothing about..."

  "Chat to the Bishop about it and see what he has to say."

  As the woman disappeared into the bushes Will climbed to his feet and slipped into his cassock. Determined to find out exactly what Josie was doing, he told Bob and the sex-slut that he'd see them in the bar that evening. Leaving the clearing and making his way home, he decided to ring the Honeydew Hotel. It would be despicable of Josie to stay at a hotel a few miles away and come creeping around the village spying on him. Perhaps she had got a flight home, he mused, reaching his house. There again, if she'd been that worried about him, she'd have never gone to Moscow.

  Walking through the open front door, he slipped up stairs as laughter emanated from the bar. He'd join the punters later, he decided. There were things to do before getting wrecked in the bar. Checking though the phone book, he found the Honeydew Hotel and dialled the number. The receptionist had never heard of Josie, and Will was sure that she would have booked in under another name. Describing Josie to the girl, Will knew that he was wasting his time.

  Finally hanging up, he reckoned that he had two choices. Go to the hotel and look for Josie, or keep his eyes peeled for moving bushes at the end of the garden. There was no way anyone could see the bar from the lane. The only place to hide and get a good view of the bar was in the garden. Thinking that it might be an idea to lay a few gin traps in the bushes, he pondered ringing the hotel in Moscow to see whether Josie had checked out.

  "Where's the fucking number," he breathed, sifting through a pile of papers on the desk. Having virtually wrecked the office searching for the number, he finally gave up and slumped in his swivel chair. Plucked from this mortal coil and plunged into the depths of hell, he mused fearfully. It had been a dream, hadn't it? Unless kids had been messing around in the church. There was no need to worry, was there?

  "I posted your letters," Lana said as she breezed into the room.

  "Oh, thanks," Will smiled. "How are things in the bar?"

  "It's been very good this morning. There's no one in the bar now as they've all gone home for lunch. They'll be back this evening, I'm sure."

  "Good, good. Any phone calls?"

  "Only one from a Mrs Baxter. She wants you to call her back."

  "God, now what does the nutter want?"


  "She said something about having trouble with changing her baby's nappies."

  "Her baby is eighteen years old."

  "Really?"

  "Really. The woman's a complete and utter head case."

  "Oh, a man called to see you."

  "A man?"

  "Yes. He said that he wanted to talk to you about Cumsdale Church."

  "Did you see him or just hear his thunderous voice echoing around the building?"

  "I saw him. He came into the lounge."

  "Did he look like the Lord?"

  "What are you on about now? Of course he didn't look like the Lord."

  "Thank God for that."

  "He wants to talk to you about..."

  "Sexual shenanigans?"

  "No."

  "Unpaid income tax?"

  "No."

  "Stolen goods?"

  "No, of course not. He wants you to go back to the church."

  "It was the Lord! Fucking hell, I'm going to die at midnight. I'm to be plucked from my mortal coil and..."

  "Back to the church as a priest."

  "What?"

  "He wants you to be Priest of Cumsdale Church. He'll be back in about half an hour."

  "Shit. I mean, fuck. I mean, cunt. Fucking hell fire."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I don't know. Who was this man? What did he look like?"

  "Cardinal something or other."

  "Fuck my tight arse backwards!"

  "I haven't got a cock. And if I had..."

  "I have to get ready," Will gasped, leaping out of his chair. "Do I look OK?"

  "You look shagged out."

  "Why, thank you."

  "It's true."

  "That doesn't surprise me. OK, I'll pace the lounge floor and get myself into a state of anxiety verging on blind panic while I wait for him. When he arrives, show him into the lounge. And try not to show him your cunt."

  "As if I'd do such a thing," she giggled, leaving the office.

  Will was sure that Lana had got it wrong as he made his way downstairs to the lounge. Looking out of the window, he knew that there was no way he'd be taken back into the priesthood. With his track record, he'd be lucky to be allowed to enter a church again, let alone resume his position as Priest of Cumsdale Village. Scratching his bollocks through his cassock as he paced the lounge floor, all thoughts of Josie blown from his mind, he tried to think positively. Perhaps Lana hadn't got it wrong. Perhaps this, perhaps that... By the time the doorbell rang, he was in a state of total confusion.

  "Er... Good morning," Will smiled as Lana showed a balding man into the room.

  "Good morning, Mr Entercock. I'm Cardinal Peter Browngrass. I'm pleased to meet you."

  Brown arse? "The pleasure's mine, Cardinal. Please, be seated."

  "Thank you. I'm here to ask whether you'd consider taking up your old position of Priest of Cumsdale."

  "Er... Yes, right," Will stammered as the man sat on the sofa.

  "I'm new to this job and I've been wondering who to appoint as priest. The church has been unused for six months now."

  "Yes, it's a great shame."

  "I wasn't able to find your file, which I thought strange. In fact, there's no record of you."

  Shit, I stole the file. "So, how did you find me? How did you know I was once Priest of Cumsdale?"

  "I discovered one or two letters tucked away at the back of the desk. They mentioned your good work. The new church roof, for example. Would you consider returning to your post?"

  "Oh, yes."

  "Seeing as I know nothing about you, I'd like to ask you a few questions. Firstly, why did you leave the priesthood?"

  "To spend more time helping the needy."

  "Good, good. Er... The young lady who answered the door. Is she...?"

  "The cleaner. She comes off... in three times each week."

  "Ah, right. So, you're celibate?"

  "Completely and utterly. As celibate as the Blessed Virgin Mary."

  "Good man."

  "Was she?"

  "No, I meant you."

  "Oh, I see."

  "Sex, Mr Entercock."

  "Where?"

  "Do you have carnal cravings?"

  Damned right! "No, no, no."

  "You do understand that I have to ask you these questions?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Some men are unable to control their base desires."

  Will knew the feeling.

  "You never find yourself tempted by the pleasures of the flesh? Tempted to commit vulgar and debased sins of the flesh?"

  All the time. "No, no. I'm a man of great celibacy, Cardinal."

  "It's just that there's no much sin and debauchery going on all around us these days."

  "You're telling me... I mean, it's terrible the way some people carry on. I was giving a girl one only this morning."

  "Giving her one?"

  "Erm... A lecture on the ways of the Lord."

  "I hope you taught her well."

  "Indeed I did, Cardinal. I'll be teaching her a lot more later."

  "Right, I've made my mind up. You are to become Father Entercock, Priest of Cumsdale Church."

  "Why, thank you," Will grinned. That was one up the Mother Fucker's arsehole.

  "I think it best just to reinstate you rather than go through the inconvenience of..."

  "Does that mean that, as from now, I'm..."

  "Indeed it does, Father Entercock."

  "Goodness me. I can't tell you how delighted I am." Lock up your daughters, for Father Entercock was riding again. "I can hardly wait to have them over the altar... To have my parishioners before the altar."

  "I really must be going as I have an appointment. I'll be in touch, Father."

  "Yes, yes of course. And, thank you."

  "Thank you, Father. Good day."

  "Yes, good day."

  This was a miracle, Will reflected as the old man left the house. A miracle that called for a celebration. Finding Lana in the bar, Will ripped her short skirt from her curvaceous body and tore her panties off. Standing with her hands on her hips as he dropped to his knees and buried his face between her legs, she raised her eyes to the ceiling. The man was mad, she was sure as his tongue delved into her pussy. Her clitoris stiffening, her juices of lust flowing, she was about to part her feet and peel open the fleshy lips of her cunny when she heard a voice in the hall.

  "A customer," she breathed, pushing Will away and grabbing her shredded clothes from the floor.

  "Fuck," Will sighed, rising to his feet.

  "I was about to," the girl giggled, dashing behind the bar and wrapping a tea towel around her middle.

  "Entercock," Bill Whithers stormed as he entered the bar. "I've been looking for you."

  "Ah, Mr Whithers," Will smiled. "How's the wife?"

  "Fucking pregnant. And my fucking daughter."

  "Now, let me get this right. Oh, Lana. Would you give Mr Whithers a pint of bitter, please? On the house, of course. Now, Bill. You say that your wife is fucking while she's pregnant? I really don't think it's a good idea to pummel the cervical oz with your knob while she's..."

  "She's not fucking. She's been fucked."

  "I suppose, as she's pregnant, that goes without saying. And your daughter is also fucking and pregnant?"

  "There we are, sir," Lana smiled, placing the man's pint on the bar.

  "Oh, er... Thanks. My daughter has also been fucked."

  "Hence, her predominant pregnant predicament. "

  "You did it. When I was doing shift work at the flowerpot factory, you fucked my wife."

  "Who fucked your daughter?"

  "You did."

  "God has only blessed me with one penis, Bill."

  "One after the other, you prat."

  "One penis after the other? I'm sorry, I'm not with you."

  "No, but you were with my wife and daughter. You fucked them, Entercock."

  "Father Entercock, if you don't mind. Now, let's sort
this mess out once and for all. Your wife and daughter are both pregnant. From this simple fact, I'd say that they've both had sexual intercourse. Now I'd like to know..."

  "Yes, with you."

  "I don't have sexual intercourse, Bill. Being a man of God..."

  "Being a man of fucking..."

  "Excuse me, sir," Lana smiled. "I might have to throw you out if you continue to use bad language."

  "Bad fucking language?"

  "Yes, sir. Bad fucking language."

  "Oh, right. This beer's OK, Entercock."

  "It's the very best. We shall have to wet the baby's head when it arrives."

  "When they fucking arrive."

  "Ah, twins."

  "Not fucking twins."

  "I won't warn you again, sir," Lana said sternly.

  "Oh, yes. Sorry."

  "So, how is the flowerpot factory?" Will asked.

  "Not good. The night shift are going onto days and..."

  "At least you'll be at home with your wife and daughter."

  "That's true."

  "How many children do you have?"

  "Sixteen."

  "My, you have been busy."

  "Someone's been fu... Very busy. And it wasn't me."

  "Might I suggest that you finish your drink and go home to your lovely wife? She'll be needing you by her side at a time like this."

  "I suppose so," he mumbled, downing his pint. "I'll call in again."

  "Yes, you do that. We're always open to... To valued customers."

  Laughing as the man left, Will was about to go to his church and reinstall himself when he recalled the voice he'd heard. Fuck, he thought, asking Lana for a pint of lager. Had he been dreaming? After a few pints of Dutch courage he planned to go to the church. As Priest of Cumsdale, a man in a position to enjoy himself, he wasn't going to let Lucifer ruin things. If anything, Lucifer should be on his side, he reflected.

  Chapter Twelve

  Creeping into Cumsdale Church, Will breathed in the musky air and looked about him. There was no sign of Lucifer, not that he knew what signs to look for. Bodies with wooden stakes through their hearts? No, that was vampires. Wandering down the aisle, he went into his old office and grinned. He'd had many an orgasm in the small room, fucked many a hot pussy. Those might have been the days, he reflected, but now these were the days.