Depravicus (3 page)

Eyeing her
cleavage he felt his penis rise, his balls heave and roll as he
imagined giving her a pearl necklace. "Fucking whore-bag," she
breathed, banging the iron down and turning the habit over. Ogling
the gentle rise of her firm stomach, he lowered his eyes and gazed
longingly at the bulging triangular patch of white material hugging
her sex lips. She'd be wet with desire, he was sure as he adjusted
his cock though his cassock. And if she wasn't, she soon would
be.

"Good
morning," he smiled, tapping on the door and entering the room.

"Oh," she
gasped, clutching the habit to her breasts. "Who are you?"

"I'm Father
Entercock. You don't seem too happy."

"Happy?" she
echoed bitterly through gritted teeth. "I was happy here, until
that fucking cowbag of a... Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, my child.
Please speak your mind."

"I've been
here for three months," she sighed.

"You've been
ironing for three months?"

"No. I've been
at the convent for three months. There was a good atmosphere, we
were all happy... And then, two weeks ago, that spunk-slut,
cunting... I mean, the Reverend Mother arrived. She's been picking
on me, deliberately singling me out. I'd rip her womb out if I
could get my fist up her cunt."

"I'm sure
you'd have no trouble in getting your..."

"My wicked
stepfather forced me to come here," she sighed, laying the cassock
over the ironing board. "As I said, it was OK until fuck-face
arrived. Did you say Father Entercock?" she asked, puzzlement
reflected in the blue pools of her sparkling eyes.

"Yes, that's
right."

"I've heard
all about you. You're infamous, you know."

"I do seem to
have rather a chequered reputation," he smiled.

"Chequered?
Cor blimey, mate. Word has it that you're some kind of fucking
Casanova."

"Oh, thank
you. It's very nice of you to say so."

"It's true
then?"

"Well, I don't
like to boast. Modesty is a virtue, and all that."

"So's
chastity, but you can fuck that."

"Yes, I'm sure
I can. I must say that you swear rather a lot for a young nun."

"And from what
I've heard, you fuck rather a lot for an old priest."

"Less of the
old, if you don't mind."

"Shit,
someone's coming," she gasped, looking at the door. "Jesus Christ,
it's fuck-face."

"Oh, er...
I'll just hide in the corner beneath these habits," he grinned,
diving into a mountain of black cloth.

Again thinking
of the old days, the loose women, the danger, the heavy drinking,
Entercock knew he'd come to the right decision. Donning his cassock
was only the beginning. He'd set up his own church in his lounge,
open a bar in the dining room, grow cannabis in the greenhouse,
shag girls in the toilet... Making his plans as the door flew open
and hit the wall with a dull thud, he stifled a snigger as the
Reverend Mother Fucker asked the nun why she'd not finished ironing
the pile of habits.

"I'm working
as fast as I can," the girl replied morosely.

"Well it's
just not fast enough," the hag-bag returned cruelly. "I've come to
warn you that there's a pervert lurking in the grounds posing as a
priest. He goes by the name of Entercock. You're to keep away from
him, do you understand?"

"Yes, Reverend
Mother."

"He's only
after one thing, and he's not getting it here. Now, hurry up and
finish that ironing."

"My arm's
aching, Reverend Mother. May I...?"

"No you may
not. This is your punishment, my girl. Your punishment for your
slovenly ways, your despicable attitude, your sluttish behaviour,
your disgusting habits, your gross lack of respect for the church,
your heavy drinking, your..."

She sounded
like his sort of girl, Will thought as the hag continued.

"Report to my
office when you've finished."

"Yes, Reverend
Mother."

"And hear
this, Sister Crotchly. The next time I catch you sexually abusing
one of God's cucumbers in the vegetable garden, I'll tie you over
the altar and shove it where the sun don't shine."

"Yes, Reverend
Mother."

The woman
leaving the room, Will waited for a few minutes before emerging
from beneath the pile of habits. The old bag hadn't changed, he
reflected. If anything, she'd got worse. But what was she doing
back at the convent? She'd left the village in disgrace six months
previously, and Will was certain he'd seen the back of her for
good. Clambering out from beneath the habits, he brushed his
cassock down and smiled at the girl. She was extremely attractive,
he observed, wondering how many orgasms she could achieve in one
oral session. With long black hair framing her pretty face, her
succulent and eminently spunkable lips...

"Now perhaps
you see what I mean about the tit-slag," she hissed, angrily
snatching another habit from the pile.

"She was
arrested six months ago," Will enlightened the girl.

"Really?"

"For gross
indecency in a public place and trying to pervert the course of
justice by attempting to bribe a police officer. I'm surprised that
she's got the nerve to show her face around here."

"That might
explain why she never goes out," the girl murmured pensively.

"In a way, I'm
rather pleased that she's back."

"Pleased? You
must be mad."

"I used to
wind her up and annoy her. She hated me, still does. I'm looking
forward resuming the battle."

"You can count
me in as one of your band of rebels," the girl giggled. "I'd do
anything to get back at the shit-sucking slut."

"You have a
wonderful way with words, er... What's your name?"

"Lolita,
Lolita Crotchly."

"Lolita," Will
breathed. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"Which church
are you from?"

"Cumsdale
Village... I mean... The Church of..."

"Don't you
know?"

"The Unholy
Union of the Wretched Souls."

"I'll have to
come."

"Indeed you
will," he chuckled wickedly; all over her face. "Why don't you come
this evening? I'm having... Well, a sort of meeting. It's at my
house, the old presbytery. It's just down the lane."

"Yes, I've
seen the place. What time?"

"About, eight
o'clock?"

"Right, I'll
be there. I'd better get on with ironing these habits before
placenta-face comes back."

"Yes, of
course. I'll see you later, then."

Leaving the
room, Will stole along the corridor and slipped out of the
building. Standing on the grass beneath the summer sun, he looked
about the grounds and breathed in the fresh air. Life was good, he
ruminated, wondering whether the girl would turn up. What Josie
would say, he had no idea. There again, he knew damned well what
she'd say. But she was on her way to Moscow, and wouldn't be back
for two months. Two months of rampant sex, he thought happily,
striding across the grass with a spring in his step. And his
cock.

Grabbing the
ringing phone as he entered his house, he grimaced. It was the
Bishop, Bishop Simon Holesgood. The Reverend Mother had been on the
phone to him and told him that Entercock had been lurking in the
grounds of the convent wearing a cassock. The Bishop, as usual, was
not a happy man. Will sighed and shook his head mournfully as he
listened to the inevitable lecture. He'd only worn the cassock for
half an hour, and already the trouble had started.

"I wasn't
wearing my cassock," Will lied, finally managing to get a word
in.

"But you were
seen," the Bishop returned angrily. "There's no point in lying to
me, Entercock."

"It was a
black cape," Will explained. "I'm... I'm in mourning."

"Oh, I see.
Er... Who..."

"My great,
great sister," Will sobbed. "I'm distraught. We were so close."

"Great, great
sister?" the man echoed.

"Three times
removed. We were like brother and sister."

"In that case,
I owe you an apology, Entercock. So, what were you doing in the
convent grounds?"

"The Reverend
Mother rang me."

"She rang you?
But she said..."

"She asked me
to have a talk with one of the nuns. Sister Crotchly, Lolita
Crotchly."

"Ah, yes. I
know the girl extremely well. I mean, I don't know her intimately.
I'd like to, but... I mean..."

"I know
exactly what you mean, Bishop."

"That nun is
trouble, Entercock, nothing but trouble. But I don't understand why
the Reverend Mother asked you to talk to the girl. She rang me and
said that you were wearing your cassock and lurking in the grounds
with intent."

"I must
confess that I don't understand, either. She invited me into her
office for elevenses. Rather nice, it was. Cheese and pickle
sandwiches and homemade fruit cake and..."

"All right,
Entercock. I'm sorry to have bothered you. And I'm sorry to learn
of your great, great sister's demise."

"She will be
too. Goodbye, Bishop."

Chuckling,
Will hung up and grabbed a can of lager from the fridge. The battle
had resumed, Josie was well out of the way, his balls were full and
in dire need of emptying, and the fridge was well-stocked with
lager. With Lolita calling round that evening, things were
definitely looking up. Not least his penis. Lolita would be his
first sexual conquest of many while Josie was away, he decided. She
had an attitude problem, but it was nothing that a damned good
naked buttock spanking wouldn't correct.

Wandering into his office he switched his computer on and went
into his favourite chat room. Typing in
Teen Girl
as his nickname, he swigged
from his can of lager and settled down to wind up the sad perverts
by telling them of his teenage body, his ripe tits and wet pussy.
They always fell for it, he reflected, introducing himself as a
cumslut from London. It was a sad world, he mused as some guy wrote
that he'd got his cock out and was imagining licking Teen Girl's
wet cunt as he wanked. Raising his cassock Will began wanking as
he, too, imagined Teen Girl's wet cunt. Hang on, he was Teen Girl,
he thought, his shaft fully erect as he massaged his foreskin over
the plum of his swollen knob. A sad and depraved world, but he
liked it.

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...