Depravicus (17 page)

"Fucking
hell," he breathed. "I've never known anything like it."

"We used to do
this to each other at boarding school," the girl gasped, rocking
her naked body back and forth to meet his thrusts. "My gym mistress
could take two fists up her bottom."

"I'd like to
have met her," Will chuckled.

"I doubt it.
She was in her eighties. God, I'm coming!"

Increasing his
fisting rhythm, Will watched the girl's body shaking as she
screamed out in the grip of a massive orgasm and he double
fist-fucked her until he almost collapsed with exhaustion. Never
had he seen such a lewd spectacle. Lana was a girl in a million, he
reflected, and he wasn't going to allow her to slip through his
fingers.

Josie was good
in bed, he mused. She loved anal sex, arse-licking and fingering,
spunk swallowing, bollock sucking... But she didn't have that air
of decadent filth about her that Lana did. Josie enjoyed having
candles forced deep into her rectum, she loved Will's knob spunking
in her rear passage too, but she'd not the ambience of a rampant
Lana. Wondering whether Lana would like to have a double cock-fuck,
Will thought about his old mate Bob. He'd been vicar of the church
now occupied by Father Kosher, until he'd been defrocked for posing
as a girl guide leader.

The incident
was sad, Will reflected. All Bob had done was dress up as a woman
and crawl into the guides' tents at night to enjoy himself. A
perfectly normal and healthy act, one would have thought. What
normal man wouldn't want to sneak into a tent at night and fuck the
girls? The judge must have been gay. Or insanely jealous. Although
the fact that his daughter was one of the guides involved might
have swayed his decision, of course.

"Enough," Lana
gasped. "I can't take any more."

"I'm not
surprised," Will said, sliding his hands out of the girl's inflamed
sex sheaths.

Leaving Lana
to recover from her double debauchery, Will slipped into the
kitchen as the phone rang. Staring through the window at the bushes
as he was about to lift the receiver, he knew someone was still
lurking there. Whoever it was must have enjoyed the sex show, he
thought. Unless... No, it wasn't Josie, was it? His hands trembled
as he imagined the girl watching him double-fisting Lana. Grabbing
the receiver, this was the first time he'd hoped it was Josie on
the phone.

"The residence
of Sir William Entercock," he said.

"
Sir
William
Entercock?"

"Speaking."

"Er... This is
Mrs Baxter."

"And how are
you on this beautiful day?" Will asked, raising his eyes to the
ceiling.

"I was
wondering whether you'd speak to Marianne again?"

"I'm rather
busy, Mrs Baxter. What's the problem this time?"

"She's not
speaking to me."

"Why's
that?"

"Ever since I
made her go to the doctor about her vaginal discharge, she's been
in a sulk."

"Vaginal
discharge?"

"Every time
she comes home she has this... I won't go into the distasteful
details concerning the contents of her nappies."

Nappies? "All
right," Will conceded. "I'll have a word with her. Send her round
in, say, twenty minutes."

"Thank you, Mr
Entercock. I knew I could rely on you. I'll send her to see you
after she's had her milk. Now, where on earth did I leave my breast
pump?"

"I'll look
forward to feeding... Seeing her, Mrs Baxter."

"Thank you.
Oh, there's my breast pump. I left it on the table next to my
sanitary towels. I'll send Marianne round in a few minutes."

"No..."

Hanging up,
Will shook his head and laughed. The woman really was a full-blown
nutter. Vaginal discharge? Nappies? Sanitary towels? A breast pump?
But her daughter, or whoever the girl was, was an eminently
fuckable beauty. As mad as her so-called mother, but eminently
fuckable... A few minutes, he mused, returning to the bar to find
Lana fully dressed and wiping the table with a cloth.

"We might as
well open during the day," she smiled. "We'll take more money that
way."

"I haven't
punished you for your wicked sins yet," Will said.

"You'll have
to do that later. I'm very busy at the moment."

"All right.
Report to my bedroom after you close the bar tonight. I have a
client coming to see me shortly. We'll be in the lounge, and I
don't want to be disturbed."

"A client?"
she frowned. "Are you a male prostitute?"

"Certainly
not. Good grief, I'm a man of God. As it happens, I'm a sanitary
towel specialist. A specialist specialising in towels of a sanitary
nature."

"Talking of
sanitary towels, I don't suppose you have a can of squirty cream
handy?" she asked, moving behind the bar.

"Um, no, I'm
sorry."

"I'll have to
pop into the tea shop and steal a can or two. It's for my sore
bottom."

"Yes, right.
Well, I'll leave you to get on. Don't forget, I am not to be
disturbed."

"Whatever you
say."

Hovering in
the lounge, Will could hardly wait to get his hands on Marianne's
beautiful body. Although he missed Josie, life was fun without her.
He doubted very much that she'd be back early. She'd probably said
that she'd take the next flight home just to worry him, which she
had. Thoughts and fears of Josie fading, he peered out of the
window, his penis already semi-stiff beneath his cassock. With
Marianne's so-called vaginal discharge, which was obviously nothing
more then a flood of spunk, he had every reason to physically
examine the girl. The doorbell ringing, he dashed through the
hall.

"Marianne," he
beamed, delighted to see the girl dressed in a skirt so short it
was hardly worth wearing. "Please, do come in."

"Thanks," she
murmured, following him into the lounge.

"Your mother
was saying you're not speaking to her."

"She's not my
mother," she sighed, plonking herself on the sofa and dumping her
handbag on the floor.

"Oh? But, I
thought... Well, not to worry. Tell me about this vaginal discharge
of yours."

"There's
nothing to tell. It's spunk, that's all."

"I see. And
where do you think this spunk comes from? I mean, girls don't
usually produce spunk."

"From cocks.
Where do you think it comes from?"

"Yes, of
course. So men put their cocks up your pussy?"

"They don't
put them up my arse, do they?"

"I don't know,
they might."

"Are you
saying that I'm an anal-slag?"

"Yes, no... I
mean..."

"My mother's
the anal-slag, not me."

"Mrs Baxter is
an..."

"She's not my
mother."

"Who is your
mother, Marianne?"

"No one."

"Right. Well,
that makes sense. I'd like to examine you, if I may?"

"Examine what
you like."

"Really? Oh,
well, in that case..."

"Why don't you
examine my mother?"

"Mrs
Baxter?"

"Yes."

"I'd like to
as I know she needs help. But I'm not a psychiatrist. I'd like to
have a look at your vagina, Marianne. Slip your knickers off and
lie on the sofa."

"You are a sad
perv," she sighed. "You only want me to pull my knickers down so
you can touch my cunt."

"Yes,
that's... Good grief, what a terrible thing to suggest."

"It's true,
isn't it?"

"No, of course
not."

"You don't
want to touch my cunt because you're a dirty old man?"

"Certainly
not."

"In that case
I'll go home."

"What do you
mean?"

"Most men want
to play with my cunt. They're dirty old men, so it's OK by me. But
you're not a dirty old man, are you?"

"Well..."

"Dirty old men
can do what they like to me. I don't mind what they do as long as
they're honest. Honesty is a virtue."

"Yes, yes it
is."

"If a man
tells me he wants to lick my creamy-wet cunt because he loves
creamy-wet cunts, then that's fine. But as you're not a dirty old
man..."

"I see," Will
murmured pensively, sensing the need for a quick backtrack. "You
have a good point, Marianne, and I didn't say I wasn't a dirty old
man, exactly."

"I bet you've
taken many girls into the woods and fucked them."

"I've lost
count..." Will boasted, his words tailing off as she fiddled with
her handbag. He frowned. When Josie had first come to the village
she'd had a tape recorder concealed in her handbag. A tabloid
newspaper reporter, she'd tried every trick in the book to expose
him. Was that Marianne's game? Deciding to change tack, he sat on
the sofa and laughed.

"I'm only
joking," he said. "After all, I'm a man of God."

"You're not a
dirty old man, then?" she asked, still fiddling in her handbag.

"No. I think
it's absolutely disgusting the way some men carry on."

"You wouldn't
like to lick my pussy then?" she grinned, parting her thighs and
pulling her wet panties to one side.

"Certainly
not," Will gaped, his wide eyes transfixed on the crack of her
vagina running between her hairless love lips. "Good grief, the
last thing I'd want to do is lick your lovely pussy."

"So, you don't
want to push your finger into my wet hole or slip your knob into my
cunt and pump me full of spunk?"

"Er... No,
no."

"Are you
sure?" she asked, parting her vaginal lips and exposing her inner
sex folds.

"Perfectly
sure, thank you."

Grabbing her
handbag she shook her head in disbelief. "In that case, there must
be something wrong with you," she sighed, standing up and walking
to the door. "I came here because I'd heard you're a good fuck.
I'll just have to find a real man to satisfy me."

"Wait," Will
said, leaping to his feet.

"Do you want
to tongue-fuck my cunt or not?" she asked expectantly.

"Er... No,
no."

As she left
the house Will bit his lip. He'd done the right thing, he was sure.
She was a little temptress, but he'd been strong and fought his
inner desires... Fuck it, he thought, his penis tenting his cassock
as he pondered the girl's dripping pussy. Gazing out of the window
he noticed her hovering in the lane. She was fiddling with her bag,
and he was sure she had enough evidence on tape to nail him.
Dashing out of the house he ran up to her and grabbed her bag.

"Right," he
said as the startled girl stared in horror at him. "Let's have a
look at your tape recorder, you spy-slut."

"What?" she
frowned as he rummaged through her bag.

"This is what
I wanted," he grinned, pulling out a small machine.

"You want my
walkman?"

"This is no
ordinary walkman. You've got me on tape, haven't you?"

"Annoying
girls again, Father?" PC Bridlington asked as he pulled up on his
bike.

"He's trying
to steal my walkman," Marianne complained, snatching her bag and
the machine from Will's hand.

"I see," the
Constable murmured, propping his bike up against the fence and
taking his notebook and pen from his top pocket. "What have you got
to say for yourself, Father?"

"It's a tape
recorder," Will replied. "She made me tell her how I love
fucking... I mean..."

"Is that
so?"

"No, of course
not. I... I was joking."

"I think you'd
better come along to the station and tell your sick jokes to the
sergeant."

"You don't
have to overact," Will sighed as Marianne ran off.

"I am not
overacting, Father. Now, come with me."

"All right,
all right," Will groaned. "I'll just get my mobile phone and lock
the house and I'll be right with you."

Dashing into
the house, Will left by the back door, raced down the garden and
leapt over the fence - ripping his cassock in the process. Marianne
was in line for the anal speculum, he reflected, hiding out in the
woods. "Fuck," he breathed, making himself comfortable on a patch
of soft grass behind a clump of bushes. "Now I'm a fugitive on the
run."

Dusk finally
falling, Will crept back to the house and slipped through the rear
door into the kitchen. This was a right fucking mess, he reflected,
hearing laughter emanating from the bar. Everything was going so
well, but now... He had to get his hands on the spy-slut's tape
recorder if he was to clear his name and save his skin. Scratching
his full balls through his torn cassock, he grabbed a can of lager
from the fridge. Fucking lager, he thought, popping the ring-pull.
At this rate he was going to end up an alcoholic, if he wasn't
already.

After double
fisting Lana and spying Marianne's hairless and most lickable sex
crack, his heaving balls were in desperate need of draining.
Contemplating a quick wank, he was about to creep upstairs when he
had an idea. Marianne had the incriminating tape recording, she
also had a beautiful little pussy. Will wanted the tape, his
ever-rampant cock needed a little pink pussy... Leaving through the
front door, Will made his way to Mrs Baxter's house. If he could
get chatting to the woman, gain her confidence, he might have the
opportunity to slip upstairs to Marianne's bedroom and grab the
tape - if not her fanny. That was if Marianne lived there, of
course.

Slipping up
the path to the front door of the small cottage, Will rang the
bell. First things first, he mused, his penis tenting his cassock
as he recalled Marianne pulling her wet panties to one side and
exposing the lips of her pussy. Mrs Baxter opened the door and was
delighted to see Will. Inviting him in, she began rambling on about
Marianne and how he had to try to help the girl overcome her fear
of breastfeeding.

"Is she in at
the moment?"