The spirit of Sister Agnes met a bearded, white-robed figure with a benevolent smile standing just outside the pearly gates. "Saint Peter?" she asked. She was wearing the same kind of white robe which, frankly, was a bit thin and translucent for her taste. "Call me Pete. We don't stand on ceremony here," he answered. "I am as you wish me to be. At your service, Sister Agnes. May I call you Agnes?" “Yes, of course...uh...P...

Sister Agnes felt both apprehension and excitement as she prepared for the Friday Fuckfest. The word “fuck” still rolled off her tongue with difficulty, but she had lost her life-long virginity at her first Fuckfest – and it had been fun. What awaited her at her second? Another sexual experience, to be sure, that was the rule. But with whom? As the sun declined in the sky, she contemplated what she would wear. God and his...

“Hello, Agnes.” Agnes looked up from where she was kneeling in her vegetable garden. It was the spirit of Burt, Mayor of Heavenly Aden. It was hot and she was wearing only a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blouse. He was shirtless. Her hands were soiled with dirt. “Hello, Burt,” she answered. “Welcome!” She stood up, brushed strands of light brown hair out of her eyes, rubbed her hands together to clean off the dirt, and...