Chapter Fifteen:
Till Death Do Us Fart

The opening fanfare of the Wedding March from A Midsummer Night’s Wet Dream rang out jubilantly across the nave of All Cunts Langham Place, as Harriet appeared at the top of the aisle, escorted by her father. There was a communal gasp of admiration at her shimmering chiffon wedding gown – frontless down to her waist so that her glorious full breasts could stand proud before her, and slit wide at the rear from the hips down so that her tight ass cheeks could be seen from behind wiggling alluringly as she made her way down the aisle. She was all in white, apart from the packet of long Marlboro reds stowed delicately at her right hip, held in place by a lace sash. By her side crawled Henry Danes, naked bar a mulberry silken tail hanging gracefully from the buttplug lodged in his asshole, and a black leather collar, by which by his daughter led him on a short leash towards the altar. Unveiled, Harriet smoked proudly, blowing elegant batteries of smoke rings before her as she processed, every now and again flicking her ash across her father’s hairy buttocks. Henry Danes whimpered with joyous pain, all the while regarding his daughter with an air of pride and adoration.

Before the altar, bride and father were received by a beaming Reverend Dicky Fumbel and an adoring Michael. The latter was resplendent in the top half of a silver-grey morning suit, sans trousers so that his gleaming erection – which had been twitching and jerking with growing enthusiasm as his beautiful smoking bride approached – could stand proud for all to see. Harriet passed the leash to her mother, who stood in the front row radiating joy, dressed in her best leather fetish gear, purple strapon protruding proudly from her crotch. Henry now dutifully curled up at her feet, panting and licking his wife’s black boots as he continued to admire the proceedings from the floor.

“God of filth and fuckery,” Reverend Fumbel prayed – in a more liturgical mode than was habitual for him, in recognition of the great solemnity of the occasion – “pleasure comes from you, and you alone are the source of carnality and lust. Without you, we cannot pleasure each other; without the lasciviousness that you inspire in us, our cocks are soft and our cunts dry. Send your Horny Spirit, and pour into us that most excellent gift of desire, that we may worship you now with lustful hearts.”

“Amen!” thundered the congregation in response, as the organ struck up the introduction to the first hymn of the afternoon, Lust Divine All Lusts Excelling, which all sang with gusto and enthusiasm.

“Cunts and cocks, please be seated,” Reverend Fumbel instructed the congregation as the echoes of the final chord faded, and he turned to address the groom. “Michael, will you this day take Harriet to be your lawfully wedded fuckwhore? Will you fuck her cunt, eat her pussy, lick her ass, suck her tits, and, forsaking no others, be unfaithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

Michael beamed at his smoking bride, his cock twitched again, and he responded, “I will!”

Reverend Fumbel gave another signal – and now Janey joined Michael and Harriet before the altar. Her upper half sported a lace-trimmed off-white halterneck gown which parted at the waist so everyone could admire her tight ass and meaty dangling cunt-lips, eliciting a ripple of admiration from all the assembled. “Janey,” Dicky Fumbel began, “will you also take Harriet to be your lawfully wedded fuckwhore? Will you fuck her cunt, eat her pussy, lick her ass, suck her tits, and, forsaking no others, be unfaithful to her as long as you both shall live?”

With tears of joy glistening in her eyes, Janey replied, “I will!”

And so the preacher turned to Harriet. “Harriet, will you take both Michael and Janey to be your lawfully wedded fuckers? Will you suck them, fuck them, eat their cum, and, forsaking no others, be a total motherfucking cuntslut for them both as long as all three of you shall live?”

“I will!” Harriet announced through a mouthful of smoke, before casting her cigarette to the floor and triumphantly grinding the butt into the carpet with her heel. A great cheer arose from the congregation, accompanied by many assorted “Hallelujahs” and “Praise the Lords”.

“God our Fucker,” prayed Reverend Fumbel, lifting his arms to Heaven, “pour out your filth upon Harriet and Michael and Janey, that they may be joined in lust and concupiscence. We ask this through our Lord Jesus Christ your Son, who fucks and reigns with you, in the unity of the Horny Spirit, one God, now and forever!”

“Amen!” thundered the congregation, as the organ introduction to the next hymn, Lord of All Filthiness, commenced. The three celebrants stood in a row at the front of the church, facing the altar, Harriet at the centre, her right hand stroking Michael’s stiff cock and the middle finger of her left gently frigging Janey’s wet cunt. But as the final verse rang out –

Be there at our fucking, and give us, we pray,
Your lust in our hearts, Lord, at the end of the day…

Reverend Fumbel addressed the threesome again. “Harriet, Michael and Janey, I now invite you to make your vows, in the presence of God and his people. Michael, will you please place your cock in Harriet’s cunt.”

Michael approached Harriet and, still standing, pressed his dickhead against her fuck-lips, and slid in with a gentle squelch. In voice trembling with emotion and lust in equal measure, he recited: “I, Michael, take you, Harriet, to be my fuckwife, to have and to fuck from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in fuckness and in health… till death us do fart.”

Harriet, grinding her clit against the base of his stiff cock, replied: “I, Harriet, take you, Michael, to be my fuckstud, to have and to fuck from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in fuckness and in health, till death us do… oh fuuuck…” Harriet whimpered, almost overcome from the pleasurable tingling now radiating from her cunt, before regaining control of herself to finish: “… till death us do f-f-fart.”

“Michael,” instructed the preacher, “please take your cock out of Harriet’s cunt and put it in Janey’s.”

Michael did so, repeating the ceremonial exchange of vows with the slender brunette, before withdrawing his cock, now coated with the cunt-slime of two beautiful fuckbrides, and stiffer than ever.

“Now Michael,” joked the Reverend, “I need you to be patient a bit longer: I know you’re horny as fuck, but you can’t come yet!” The congregation laughed good-naturedly – as anyone who goes to church knows to do when one’s pastor attempts a joke. “Deaconess Rahab, would you please bring us the double-ender?”

The congregation oohed and aahed with appropriate sentimentality as the two brides approached each other and fed the two realistically shaped cock-ends of a bright red translucent eighteen-inch flexible ribbed double-ended dildo into their respective cunts. Janey began this time: “I, Janey, take you, Harriet, to be my fuckslut, to have and to fuck from this day forward; for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in fuckness and in health, till death us do fart.”

Harriet, overcome with emotion, her cunt tingling and juicing with the excruciating pleasure of one edged for too long, could barely voice her vows to Janey, dissolving into chains of “fuck fuck fuck that feels so fucking good” at practically every comma. But eventually she reached her “till death do us faaaa-uuuuck!” – squealing with pleasure as the ribbed dildo slid from her and Janey’s cunt, stretching their dripping fuck-lips outward to leave a gleaming coating of slime down the body of the dildo. “Jesus, I need a fucking cigarette!” she panted, reaching beneath the sash of her gown to retrieve her packet of Marlboro 100s, light one, and smoke deeply throughout the next hymn:

Fuck us, heavenly Father, fuck us
o'er the world's tempestuous sea;
fuck us, suck us, eat us, beat us,
for we have no cock but thee…

“And now,” Reverend Fumbel called out, as the hymn reached its final ritardando, and Harriet ground her cigarette butt into the floor, “may we have the buttplugs, please?” Deaconess Rahab, naked as usual bar her see-through surplice, stepped forward bearing a brass tray on which glistened three bejewelled 24-carat gold anal toys.

“Heavenly Fucker,” the preacher raised his hands again in prayer, “by your blessing let these buttplugs be to Harriet, Michael and Janey symbols of unending lust and unfaithfulness, to remind them of the vow and covenant which they have made this day through Jesus Christ our Lord.”

“Amen!” replied the three newlyweds.

Harriet turned her back to the congregation and leant over the altar so that her glorious ass was on full view, as Michael and Janey approached together, jointly bearing a golden buttplug with a diamond set in the T-bar. “Harriet,” they intoned together, “we give you this buttplug as a sign of our infidelity. With our bodies we pleasure you, our cum we offer to you, by the lust of God: Fucker, Cunt and Horny Spirit.” And with a gentle push and a squelch the buttplug slid into Harriet’s asshole.

Next it was Janey’s turn to prostrate herself against the altar, and then Michael’s, so that the ritual exchange of buttplugs could be completed, which Reverend Fumbel sealed with a final prayer: “In the presence of God, and before this congregation, Harriet, Michael and Janey have given their consent and made their marriage vows to each other,” he proclaimed. “Those whom God has joined together let everyone fuck. God the Fucker, God the Cunt, God the Horny Spirit, be deep inside you and remain with you always.”

“Amen!” cried the congregation.

“Michael,” Reverend Fumbel intoned with solemnity and pomp, so that the entire assembly could hear, “you may now fuck the brides!”

“JUST A MOMENT!” bellowed a voice from the back of the church. “I OBJECT!”

There was a gasp from the whole congregation. Reverend Fumbel looked in the direction of the interruption, shocked and alarmed – for there in the doorway of the church, her huge corpulent figure silhouetted against the afternoon sunlight, stood none other than Mrs Didcock, tottering on a large Zimmer frame and brandishing her huge pink dildo accusingly. Her hair was greasy and matted, and unrecognisable stains dribbled down her top, but her jaw was set in defiance.

Reverend Fumbel seemed not to know what to say, stuttering, “Uh… sorry?”

“YOU HEARD ME!” bellowed Michael’s mother. “I SAID I OBJECT TO THIS MARRIAGE!”

Instantaneously the congregation broke into a hubbub of scandalised tutting and gasping, as only church congregations know how – which allowed Reverend Fumbel to momentarily regain his preacher’s cool and call across the racket, “Sister, suck my cock, welcome to All Cunts! Tell me what the problem is.”

But Mrs Didcock was not for charming. “THAT BOY – THAT DICKHEAD – IS MY SON!” she bellowed as she slowly lumbered down the aisle on her walker, globules of spit flying from her mouth. “AND HE HAS NO BUSINESS MARRYING EITHER OF THOSE HOT CUNTS – BECAUSE HE IS A PATHETIC SOFT-DICKED NO-HOPER, JUST LIKE HIS FATHER WAS!”

Reverend Fumbel was trying to stay calm, but even he, despite his years of experience of officiating at weddings, was unsure of what to do with this most embarrassing and awkward of interruptions. “S-sister,” he stuttered, “Michael is a stalwart of our congregation, a true fucker for Jesus. I have counselled all three of these young people at length about their marriage, and I am convinced in the Horny Spirit that they are entering into this freely, and will make fine Christian fuck-spouses for each other, and great fuckers for the whole community.”

“BULLSHIT!” yelled Michael’s mother, as she continued to lumber forward.

“Madam,” replied the preacher, his patience apparently wearing thin, “do you have any legal grounds for objecting to this marriage?”

Mrs Didcock leant forward on her frame, sneering. “NON-CONSUMMATION!” she announced, with triumphant scorn.

The congregational hubbub resumed, a combination of disbelief and shock. Mrs Didcock’s accusation seemed to everyone present so utterly ridiculous; after all, Michael and Harriet had been fucking each other at church since September, and Janey since January. Since announcing their intention to marry they had become stalwarts of the church fuck study group – and the size and irrepressibility of Michael’s cock was well-known, even legendary in All Cunts circles. “‘Non-consummation’?” whispered the members of All Cunts parish to each other. “How absurd!”

If Reverend Dicky had hitherto been, in his best professional manner, trying to allow Mrs Didcock her say, he was now convinced that the woman was off her rocker. “Sister, I am sorry, but this cannot be: Michael has amply demonstrated his capacity as a fucker, and has been fucking these two fine sluts for months. And no one knows better than I what a huge dick he has! I mean, just look at it!”

Mrs Didcock did – and promptly burst into a peal of withering, scornful laughter. Reverend Dicky looked too, as did the entire congregation – and their faces fell. For where a minute ago Michael’s shaft had been a superlative example of a Christian stud-cock in action – stiff, throbbing, dribbling pre-cum, and gleaming with the combined cunt-slime of his two fuck-brides – it had now shrunk to almost nothing: soft, tiny, dangling damp and forlorn from his crotch. Michael’s face too had crumpled: his lips trembling with humiliation, tears were beginning to pour down his face as he felt his cock shrink under the cruel verbal onslaught of his mother.

But then – “NO!” came a loud cry. But it was not from Harriet, or Janey, or Reverend Fumbel, or Deaconess Rahab, or indeed any of the other All Cunts stalwarts. It came from close to the floor, by the front row of chairs. For a split second, no one knew who had spoken – until Henry Danes unfolded his crouching body and stood up. There was a gasp from the congregation, who had hitherto only ever seen him on all fours. There was an audible cry of amazement from Harriet, who could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she had seen her own father stand up, let alone express an opinion as trenchant as “No!” And Genevieve Danes looked as if she would faint with shock.

But stand Henry did, releasing the collar around his neck, and peremptorily casting it and his leash to the ground. “No!” he repeated firmly, stepping forward, standing tall, and facing off against the broad figure of Mrs Didcock. Harriet’s mouth gaped with awe and admiration – for her father, now that he was standing upright on two feet, looked suddenly like a man of presence, authority and strength. He was still naked, and the silk tail continued to dangle from his buttplug, but it was immediately clear to all that, upright, he was powerfully built, tall and robust, with muscles which rippled with righteous indignation.

“No, Mrs Didcock!” continued Henry, in a voice as resonant and commanding as his appearance. “I know your son – and he is as fine a young fucker as there is in our Enlightened world. I have watched him screw my daughter; I have watched his big cock grow and throb and pleasure her cunt till she has been screaming with joy. I have watched how he delights in her fetish, and how she delights in him. The only reason he has a small dick now is because of you – because you have spent your life humiliating him, tormenting him, taking out on him the anger which has been festering in you. Well, Michael will now break that cycle, Mrs Didcock: he will not be destroyed by your emotional vandalism, he will marry my daughter, and he will fuck her like the true man he is, with the big dick he has whenever you are not around. So begone, Mrs Didcock! Begone with your cursed self-pity. If you are determined to destroy yourself, no one can stop you. But set your son free to be the man, the Christian man, the fucking man he was meant to be! He will consummate this marriage, for nothing you can say or do will stop him! BEGONE, I SAY!”

There was a tense silence, as the two in-laws-to-be stood staring defiantly at each other. Mrs Didcock cleared her throat to respond – but Henry Danes stepped forward again, fists clenched at his hips, till he was standing before her, huge, burly and rugged, looking with contempt down his nose at her fat, stinking, self-sorry figure. The contrast, both visual and emotional, could not have been greater – and eventually Mrs Didcock recognised it too. “You haven’t heard the last of me!” she snarled, as she turned her back on Mr Danes, her son, his brides, and the altar. “You wait, cunts!” she continued to growl as she lumbered back towards the entrance. “He’ll let you down – like all men do – and then you’ll come crawling to me! ‘Why didn’t you warn us?’ you’ll be saying. ‘Why didn’t you warn us your son is such a no-hoper? Why didn’t you tell us he can’t fuck for toffee?’ And you’ll have no one to blame but yourselves!”

Henry stood in silence, his jaw set, his fists clenched, his muscles rippling. But neither he nor anyone else said a word until Mrs Didcock had reached the entrance to the church, where she turned and screamed one last “FUCKING CUNTS – ALL OF YOU! PATHETIC FUCKING CUNTS!!” before disappearing out into Langham Place.

There was a long silence, during which the entire congregation heaved manifold sighs of relief. Harriet, Janey and Michael hugged each other, giving each other’s genitals an affectionate reassuring squeeze. Henry wiped his brow, before striding purposefully back to the front row of chairs where his wife was sitting, and commanding, “Move over, bitch!” Genevieve did, with an astonished whimper, and her husband sat down next to her, naked, tall, rugged and proud.

It took at least a minute for Reverend Fumbel to regain his composure, and for Harriet and Janey to calm Michael down and kiss his tears away. But eventually the preacher turned again to the groom. “Michael…” he muttered in a quiet relieved voice, “you may now fuck the brides…”

And so Harriet lit another cigarette and knelt on the floor before her husband, blowing smoke over his flaccid cock until, liberated now from the oppressive spectre of his mother’s presence, it twitched and jerked its way back into a full and beautiful erection. Pushing him down to the ground so he was lying on his back, she sucked his cock deep into her mouth, tasting the combination of her own and Janey’s cunt-slime which still coated the shaft, added to Michael’s incipiently salty pre-cum, all bound together by the rich acrid savour of burning tobacco. At the same time, Janey hitched her leg across Michael, and lowered her wet dangly fuck-flaps onto his face so he could eat her out.

And so the three newlyweds fucked. Giddy with lust, they fucked in every threesome position they could. After Harriet had finished her first cigarette sucking Michael’s cock, and the latter had made Janey come twice all over his face, the two brides formed a sixty-nine, Janey on top so that Michael could fuck her from behind and Harriet, chain-lighting another cigarette, could blow hot smoke into her new fuckwife’s gash while licking her husband’s balls. Then Harriet lay on the altar steps, legs akimbo so Janey could slobber over her pussy and asshole while Michael sucked her huge heaving tits till she screamed with pleasure, great clouds of smoke flying upwards from her ecstatic open mouth as she came. Throughout, Michael, Harriet and Janey fucked with a joy that few people know outside the world of the Enlightenment – the joy of knowing that they were free in each other’s presence, the joy of knowing that they belonged to each other without being owned by each other, the joy of being bound together yet freer than ever – none of which, of course, would ever have been possible without the joy of knowing that it was the Almighty who empowered their marriage, their fucking, and the fetishes He had revealed to them in Christ Jesus.

As they fucked, the organ struck up again, and soon the choir were singing:

Give me lust in my heart, keep me fucking.
Give me lust in my heart, I pray.
Give me lust in my heart, keep me fucking.
Keep me fucking till the end of day.
Sing hosanna, sing hosanna, sing hosanna…

The brides’ parents, of course, joined in the celebration. The Harrises were a modest, understated sort of couple, fucking each other quietly but happily in a side alcove against a pillar. But Henry Danes, emboldened and transformed by his confrontation with his other in-law, stood over his wife and commanded, “On your knees, bitch!” Genevieve, her mouth agape with astonishment, did as she was told, her purple strapon dangling awkwardly beneath as her husband rammed his stiff cock into her asshole in one powerful thrust. “You like my cock in your arse, slut?” demanded Henry.

“Oh yes, Henry, fuck my arse, Henry, fuck me like the powerful man you are!” squealed Genevieve in reply. “Make me scream with that dick up my arsehole! Make me gape, Henry! Own me, Henry! Command me, Henry! Make me your submissive fuckbitch, Henry!” And Henry roared with satisfaction.

Soon the entire congregation were fucking too – as well as all the deacons and servers, starting with Reverend Fumbel and Deaconess Rahab, who led with a sixty-nine on the altar, as the choir gathered around serenading them:

Let me suck that big cock, let me suck it.
Let me suck that big cock, I pray.
Let me eat that wet cunt, let me eat it.
Let me eat it till the end of day.

In their corner, Mr and Mrs Harris slid down their pillar, also into a sixty-nine on the floor, tender, unpretentious and happy, until they came simultaneously in each other’s mouths. By contrast, Henry Danes yanked his wife round by the hair so she was kneeling at his feet. “Suck it, bitch!” he bellowed, as he began ramming his throbbing cock into her wide open throat.

“Oh yef Henwy, fu’ my ‘fu‘ing fwoa’, ma’e me ‘fu‘ing gag on your big dick!” Genevieve quacked and gurgled as her husband’s cock pounded in and out of her skull. “Ma’e me your fu’ing cumwhore!” Soon Henry felt his cum rise up his shaft, roared with pleasure, and pulled his wife’s face hard against his crotch so her nose was pressed against his strong body and his cockhead was lodged against her tonsils. As he came, his stiff cock jerking and spasming deep in Genevieve’s gullet, she gagged and retched, cum splattering from her lips and nostrils, making an obscene mess of her cheeks and chin, the cocktail of semen, spit and snot dribbling and dangling onto her tits below. “Oh yes, Henry,” Genevieve moaned as she removed her husband’s messy gloopy cock from her face, “I’m your fuckwhore, Henry, treat me like that, Henry, treat me like your worthless filthy wifeslut…” And Henry grunted with satisfaction, as he wiped a few last smears of gloop from his cockhead into her hair.

Harriet and Janey were now both lying on their backs on the carpet, haunches lifted high and propped against each other so that their four fuck-holes lined up perfectly for ease of access. They screeched with pleasure as Michael piledrove his cock into each of their holes in turn, lubricating each asshole with the cunt-juice of the opposite wife. Soon he had prised their shitholes wide open so that they winked and gaped praisefully at the heavens, and the choir was singing:

Fuck that ass till it gapes, keep it gaping
Fuck that ass till it gapes, I pray…

Michael’s cock bulged and throbbed more than ever, and he was ready to come – but he wanted to pleasure his wives’ fetishes first. And so he withdrew his cock from Janey’s newly-crafted gapelet and, cock still vertical, he pissed. Pee fountained upward from his stiff cock and splattered down onto his brunette wife’s pretty face, who screeched with pleasure as the choir sang:

Squirt that pee on my face, keep on pissing!
Squirt that pee on my face, I pray…

Soon both girls were kneeling at Michael’s crotch, taking turns to suck his cock, Harriet also taking deep lungfuls of smoke which she exhaled luxuriantly over Michael’s cock or into Janey’s piss-wet face.

Blow that smoke on my cock, keep on smoking!
Keep on smoking till the end of day…

sang the choir – and Harriet did, as Michael’s cock began to twitch with growing ecstasy. Janey crouched down to lick his balls, sucking them one by one into her mouth while Harriet face-fucked his cock hands-free, one hand gripping her cigarette, the other frigging four fingers in and out of Janey’s cunt. Great clouds of smoke poured from her nostrils, and soon Michael was moaning and swearing as he felt his semen boil and course up his shaft.

Put that cum on my face, let me taste it!
Put that cum on my face, I pray.

sang the choir,

Put that cum on my face, let me eat it!
Let me eat it till the end of day.

And so Michael’s cock exploded, great volleys of creamy cum firing joyfully from his dickhead and splattering across his wives’ faces and hair. “Fuck yeah, Jesus yeah, thank you God!” they screamed, slurping and licking and lapping and gargling as they caught as much as they could of the heavenly load on their outstretched tongues, before passing it back and forth from mouth to mouth, blowing cum-bubbles which spattered in each other’s faces, and wiping great gloopy jizz-webs over each other’s faces and hair.

Sing hosanna, sing hosanna, sing hosanna to the Kink of Kinks…

sang the choir. But as the hymn ended, there rang out from the organ the opening staccato arpeggios of Widor’s Fuckata. On cue, the three fuck-spouses stood to recess up the aisle towards the exit, led by a naked Reverend Fumbel dribbling cum from his cockhead, followed by their parents, and then a cheering God-praising fucked-out congregation. Harriet tossed her bouquet into the crowd – and it was caught by none other than Polly Poussée. Surprised at her herself, she raised one quizzical eyebrow and looked around. Abdul Ahss-Faqr caught her eye, before she turned away in embarrassment. But he did not, and sidled in her direction, led by a renewed erection.

Postscript

Dear Reader,

I could go on forever recounting the joys of that day, and of the year that followed. Of course, as true Christian fuckers, Harriet and Michael and Janey, empowered by the Horny Spirit, used their marriage as a springboard to fuck anyone and everyone they liked, with generosity and selflessness.

Janey, still in the first flush of her conversion, joined the mission team at All Cunts as their first ever full-time Piss-Ministry Trainee: she spent the next year witnessing and preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ to the homeless on the street corners of the inner cities of England – and then peeing on them.

Michael joined the All Cunts missionary team in the Outside World – where some people had not yet heard of the Enlightenment or, therefore, the fullness of the Good News. Some even still believed that to be a Christian they needed to be continent, abstemious, or monogamous. And so Michael, filled with the zeal of the Horny Spirit, and led by his big throbbing cock, went out into the Outside World and fucked all the cunts and assholes he found there – so that those poor benighted souls would come to know and accept the Good News, and become free fuckers for Christ.

Harriet was accepted onto the National Diploma in Fucking course at the Royal Academy of Fucking, where she was tutored by none other than the great Professor Emma Jane Cuntslicker, and became a great ambassador for Christ, and for the glorious smoking fetish which the Lord had granted her. You can read more about her time at the RAF in the story Alison Goes to London by that great writer GrushaVashnadze.

Of course, once Michael returned home, and Harriet completed her course, and Janey had trained up a new team of Pissers for Christ to take over her good work, the three fuck-spouses came back together fully trained in licentiousness, salaciousness and promiscuity, and brought those fine Christian values into play in their marriage – smoking, pissing and fucking to their hearts’ content, and blessing the world by it.

Do you believe in Jesus, Dear Reader? Know that He is pleasured by you, and that He wants you to be His fuck-disciple – fetish or no fetish. And so, please repeat this prayer after me as you jerk yourself off:

God our Fucker, I believe that out of your infinite Lust you have created me,
and yet in a thousand ways I have shunned that Lust.
Thank you for saving me now from eternal monogamy/fidelity/celibacy/cheating/wanking
[delete as applicable].
I choose this day to renew my covenant with you
and to place free filthy fucking at the centre of my heart.
I ask you now to flood my cock/cunt/asshole
[delete as applicable]
with the gift of the Horny Spirit,
so that Lust may become the ruling principle of my life for the rest of my days.
In Jesus’ name I pray.

Amen.