Chapter Twelve:
And Behold, There Ran Out Piss From Under the Right Side of the Temple 

The quickest way from North London to Cunting Town is by tube, changing at Bonk for the Dicklands Light Railway. And so that is the way Harriet and Janey took – though by the time they climbed the pee-streaked outside staircase to Michael’s flat and knocked on the peeling green door, the sun had already set, and Harriet had smoked at least five cigarettes en route. Harriet could hear that Michael’s mum was in from the muffled soundtrack blaring from the living room: Oh yeah, piss in me fuckin’ arsehole, ya filthy motherfucker! Look at that shithole all gapin’ wide for ya!

“Ooh, is that Michael’s mum?” asked Janey, suddenly intrigued.

“No,” Harriet laughed, “that’s her TV…”

“Shame: I was going to say she doesn’t sound too bad after all.”

But the door remained unopened – and so Harriet knocked again, more loudly.

“FUCK OFF!” came the sound of Mrs Didcock’s voice from within. The soundtrack continued: Yeah, fill me fuckin’ arse wiv yer golden shower, ya fuckin’ perv. See all yer piss swillin’ round in me gapin’ shitter?

Harriet knocked again, louder. “Mrs Didcock, it’s me, Harriet. Is Michael there, please?”

At last Harriet heard the television muted, followed by Mrs Didcock’s approaching lumbering footsteps. The door opened, and Michael’s mother stood naked before them leaning on a Zimmer frame, her vast flanks jiggling as she panted from her exertion, her drooping dugs smeared with the same unrecognisable foodstuffs which dribbled from her chin. “What do you want, cunt?” she barked. Behind her, her television screen was just visible, frozen on a closeup of a large black cock pissing copiously into a gaping asshole; Janey gasped with delight and rubbernecked slightly to get a better view.

“Hello, Mrs Didcock, how are you?” asked Harriet, as pleasantly as she could.

“I said: what do you want, cunt?” Mrs Didcock insisted. Janey was now on tiptoe, trying to get a better view of the pee-filled rectum on the television screen in the living room.

“Is Michael here, Mrs Didcock?” asked Harriet. “May I come in?”

“No, he isn’t here, cunt – and no, you fucking can’t.” Flecks of spit and half-chewed junk food spattered from her mouth as she spoke.

“Oh… do you know where he is?”

“No – and I don’t give a shit where he is. He hasn’t been here since last week – when he came to pick up a painting or something. I thought he was living with you now…?”

Harriet went suddenly pale. “So he wasn’t here last night then?”

Mrs Didcock saw Harriet’s flustered expression, realised – and laughed: a long howling guffaw of derision and contempt. “Ha ha! Has he dumped you already, cunt? I thought it’d be the other way round! Found another hot piece of arse to fuck instead, has he? Just like his dad!”

“No, it’s not like that, Mrs Didcock, really it’s not – it’s just… oh, do you have any idea where he might be?”

“Not a clue, bitch. The only place he goes, apart from yours and the gallery, is the church. But I wouldn’t bother if I were you, slut: you’re well rid of him. Find a real man to fuck: with your big tits and tight arse, you shouldn’t have too much trouble.” She laughed uproariously to herself as she slammed the door in Harriet’s face to lumber back to her sofa. Now open yer gob wide, perv, while I fart your fuckin’ piss in yer face! the soundtrack resumed. Then you can lick me arsehole clean!

Harriet could feel her heart pounding with dread, and she clung desperately to Janey to steady herself. “Oh God, Janey, where’s he gone? I thought he’d just run home. Where could he be?”

“Uh what…?” muttered Janey vaguely, slightly despondent that she couldn’t stay to watch the advertised pee enema facial. “Oh yeah, sorry yeah, Michael, yeah, well… Will there be anyone at the church at this time?”

“We could see if Reverend Dicky knows anything.” Harriet set her jaw and led the way.

*

By the time the two girls had made their laborious way back to central London, Harriet had smoked three more cigarettes and was already on her fourth, and All Cunts Langham Place was dark and silent. But Harriet knew the way round the back to the presbytery door, which she knocked on timidly at first, then louder – and then louder again.

Reverend Dicky Fumbel answered, naked, his cock stiff, slime coated, and smelling of cunt. Deaconess Rahab lurked in the background, clad in nothing more than her trademark see-through white surplice, clearly nonplussed at having been interrupted mid-fuck: her blond hair was dishevelled, and she was whimpering as three slimy fingers of her right hand rubbed her bald clit. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Reverend Fumbel,” stammered Harriet through a mouthful of smoke, “did I interrupt your evenfuck?”

It took merely a second for the preacher to assess the sight presenting itself on his doorstep. “No such thing as an interruption, Harriet,” he beamed, “merely an enhancement!” His cock twitched in imagined anticipation. “Would you like to join us? We normally have a foursome on Saturday nights – but Deaconesses Salome and Jezebel are away leading this weekend’s fuck-mission, so Rahab and I were left alone. She might appreciate some company! And who is your pretty friend?” the preacher added with a glint in his eye, spying diminutive dark-haired Janey standing off to the side.

“Oh, er…” Harriet hardly knew where to start. Under normal circumstances she would have liked nothing more than to have a foursome with the church ministers, but she was flustered and anxious and had only one thought in mind: “It’s just… I’m looking for Mikey – you know, my fiancé, the one with the big dick?” She took another deep but nervous drag to calm her nerves.

To her surprise, Reverend Fumbel’s face turned suddenly sombre, and his glistening cock began to droop. “Ah… yes, of course – well, you’d better come in for a chat then, Harriet. I… I wasn’t going to mention it, but… seeing as you have coming looking for him, I… come in, come in: it’s cold outside, we can talk more easily in the church…”

“Oh God, Reverend Dicky, is he all right?” Through her words, Harriet’s exhale was thick and rich in the cold January night – but she had never seen her preacher in such a sombre and uncertain mood before, and she felt herself overtaken by an inchoate jumble of panic and fear: Was Michael missing? ill? hurt? … dead?

“He’s fine, Harriet,” Reverend Fumbel reassured her as, his now flaccid cock dangling before him, he led the way through the hallway of the presbytery, down a side passage, and into the nave of the church, followed by Deaconess Rahab who, still whimpering with lust, had grabbed Janey by the hand and was dragging her along behind.

“Michael came to see me, and he was a bit, shall we say, upset by what you said to him,” continued Reverend Fumbel as he gestured to a couple of front row chairs. “Sit down, and I’ll explain.”

Harriet sat, taking rapid, nervous drags and exhaling noisily through pursed lips, while Rahab led Janey urgently towards a small alcove at the opposite side of the church, where there stood a small stone baptismal font. “I’m horny, bitch,” she announced to the brunette waif, “see?” She held her three sticky fingers up to Janey’s face. “Eat me.”

Janey said nothing, but extended her tongue to taste Rahab’s slimy fingers. “Ohhhh…” she whimpered, overcome by the irresistible savour of the deaconess’ hot cunt, as she sucked all three of her glistening digits into her mouth, slobbering with delight.

Harriet sat smoking nervously, sucking her smoke in short sharp audible drags, while surveying the bright 1970s evangelical décor, all faded green carpet, pine laminate, spotlights, loudspeakers and plywood stackable chairs. It seemed a somewhat stark, clinical place without its customary heaving throngs of praying fucking acolytes, but soon Harriet’s confession came tumbling out through clouds of smoke: “Oh God, Reverend Dicky, I think I must have hurt Michael’s feelings so badly! I said some terrible things to him – but all he was doing was eating Janey’s cunt, nothing wrong with that really, but I… I…” She took another sharp drag. “I just got jealous! I called him a double-crosser and a cheat – I don’t know where it came from. I’m a good Christian girl, Reverend Dicky, I really am not normally like that! But I thought I’d be able to make it up to him, but then he never came home to my place, and he isn’t at his mum’s, and I am so desperate to find him. But you’ve seen him? Where is he? Please tell me where he is!” Harriet was in tears, puffing on her cigarette with panic and desperation, smoke pouring in and out of her lungs.

Meanwhile, Deaconess Rahab was wasting little time, lifting her haunches up onto the font and opening her legs wide to display her bald, half-fucked cunt, its pink flesh glistening and frothing with interrupted lust. “Eat it, bitch!” she commanded, the lustful desperation in her voice undisguised, as she pulled Janey down so the slender brunette was crouching before her exposed fuckhole. Janey grinned, plunging her face into Rahab’s crotch and slurping with abandon as the deaconess whimpered, “Oh yeah, that’s it, bitch, that’s good, fuck my cunt with that hot tongue!”

At the altar end of the church, Reverend Fumbel sat, still naked, facing Harriet. “Harriet,” he intoned firmly, “I can’t tell you where Michael is at the moment: he asked me, for his safety, not to tell anyone – anyone – and I must honour that. But –”

“His safety?!” interrupted Harriet, gesticulating with her cigarette. “But he’s not in danger, is he? OK, I was a bitch, but I’m not threatening him. I just want him back!”

Janey, meanwhile, was utterly entranced by Rahab: her hot cunt juicing all over her face and – as the diminutive brunette glanced up – her lovely voluptuous body writhing and arching with pleasure on the font, her proud tits jiggling and flowing, framing her lusciously seductive face and blond hair. But then the deaconess paused. “Are you saved, fuckwhore?” she asked, looking down at the slender girl slobbering at her cunt-mound.

“Uh… what?” muttered Janey from the depths of Rahab’s gash.

“I said, bitch, are you fucking saved?” Rahab’s voice was sharp with zeal. “Do you know Jesus? Have you been washed in the cunt-juice of the Lamb?”

By contrast, Reverend Fumbel was working hard at keeping his voice emollient. “I understand your concern for Michael’s safety, Harriet. But you were the one who told him you were no longer his friend. You dumped him – which is something you promised you would never do. And I hardly need tell you what a blow that is for someone as emotionally insecure as Michael.”

Tears were running down Harriet’s face, and her nose was running. She sniffed loudly, wiping a large smear from her upper lip with the yellowing filter end of her cigarette and licking it off as she took another deep drag. He’s right, she thought to herself as snotty residual smoke seeped slowly from her nostrils, I’ve been so cruel, so heartless, and so fixated on my own state of mind I haven’t even realised how much I have hurt Mikey… “Oh God!” she cried out loud, exhaling a thick column of smoke heavenwards. “Oh God, forgive me!”

In the baptismal alcove, Rahab was pressing her point. “Believe in Jesus, bitch! Be born again of cum and the Spirit, and you will be saved!”

Janey, to be frank, didn’t know what Rahab was talking about. Her parents, free thinkers both, had not brought her up to be remotely religious and, while she had always tolerated Harriet’s spiritual convictions with the attentiveness of a true friend, she had never had the slightest interest in such matters for herself. And so she muttered a perfunctory “Uh… no, sorry,” before resuming her cunt-slurping.

At the same time, the Reverend Fumbel was lecturing Harriet with kind, though uncompromising, firmness: “You know what it says in Scripture, Harriet: I will send the Horny Spirit to you. And when He has come, He will convict the world of sin – because they do not believe in Me.”

“But I do believe, Reverend Dicky!” Harriet inhaled again, urgently, removing her cigarette from between her lips with a noisy smack. “I trust in Jesus!”

“Trust in Jesus, slut!” Rahab’s voice echoed loudly around the alcove, and thence out into the nave of the church, even as Janey continued to slobber happily at her gash. “You eat good cunt, bitch: you’d make a good fucker for Jesus, you would – oh fuck oh fuck yeah that’s good, right there, on my clit…”

Janey was pleased her oral ministrations were having the desired effect on the deaconess, and so she decided to ignore her increasingly incoherent attempts at proselytisation and just concentrate hard on pleasuring her twat. Rahab didn’t seem to mind too much either, as her preaching gradually gave way under the onslaught of Janey’s tongue and fingers, soon disintegrating into pleasured, pleasurable fuck-talk: “You know Jesus is pleasured by you, fuckslut? He wants you as his fuckwhore, He wants you to open his cunt to Him, He wants you to – oh Jesus motherfuck that’s it you fucking whore eat that fucking cunt make me come!”

Meanwhile, Reverend Fumbel was gently but determinedly continuing to reproach Harriet. “I know you believe, Harriet. I know you are Jesus’ fuckslut, I know you have opened your cunt to him. But you, like all of us, have allowed an idol to come between you and God. Do you know what that idol is, Harriet?”

Harriet sat trembling, her body shaking with humiliation and grief. Tears continued to course down her face, and smoke from her nostrils. She blew her nose noisily into her palm, and mindlessly wiped the large slimy glob of mucus into her fine blond hair. Her heart was bereft, but through her pain she glimpsed the truth. “I… I… Oh God, Reverend Dicky… am I guilty of… of love?”

“Praise be to the Horny Spirit, sister, for revealing this to you,” cried the preacher, “for in recognising your own sin you open the door to your redemption!”

Janey, by contrast, wasn’t really interested in redemption – but she was aware that Rahab was approaching her climax: she could feel her juices flowing, her vulva getting hotter, her twat begin to tremble and twitch and clench, until – “OH FUCK!” screamed the deaconess, as her cunt convulsed. “Thank you Jesus for letting me come all over this slut’s face. Now send your Horny Spirit on her and make her your fuck-disciple, IN JESUS’S NAME, AMEEEENNNNNN!!!”

Janey was not remotely moved by Rahab’s prayer, noisy and sincere though it undoubtedly was – but she gamely buried her face into the deaconess’ spasming cunt, continuing to slurp and nibble and frig as Rahab climaxed. Indeed, it would have been an unremarkable, though admittedly pleasurable, end to her pussy-feast if it had not been for a strange transformation which now Janey noticed coming over the deaconess. Rahab’s orgasm, instead of subsiding, was building even more: her cunt was growing hotter and wetter, continuing to dribble fuck-juices into Janey’s face and down her thighs onto the edge of the font. Her skin glowed bright, and the spasming of her body seemed to be building in intensity; indeed, she seemed now to be convulsing uncontrollably, as if she were undergoing some sort of supernatural fit. A strange deep moan began in her chest – resonant, quavering, rising and falling with her convulsions – until suddenly she intoned, in a voice unnaturally deep and sonorous, which echoed throughout the church: “DAUGHTER OF CUNT, HEAR THE WORD OF THE LORD!”

Harriet and Dicky hardly noticed this strange development, though, deep as they were in apostolic conversation. “It is so hard not to fall into the trap of love, Reverend Dicky,” explained Harriet. “I didn’t even realise that I loved Mikey, until all that terrible jealousy overtook me…”

“Remember what Scripture says, Harriet: I say to you that every woman who looks at a man with loving intent has already committed monogamy with him in her heart. And there is nothing more likely to destroy a marriage than the foul spirit of monogamy. It must be cast out! Will you allow me to pray and spray over you, Harriet?”

“Oh yes, Reverend Dicky, please! Cast out that foul spirit from me!” Harriet stubbed out her cigarette on the floor, ground the butt into the green carpet with the heel of her boot, and knelt, head bowed, before the preacher.

Meanwhile, in their alcove, Janey was fully intending to quietly lap the remaining juices from Rahab’s pussy and thus wind up their fuck. However, the convulsions racking Rahab’s body were still growing, as if she was possessed. Still perched on the font, she writhed and thrashed in her apparently unending climax – and then declaimed, with an eerily booming voice which echoed off the walls and the ceiling: “THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD HATH COME UPON ME, AND REVEALED TO ME THY NAME. THOU ART JANEY – BUT I NAME THEE ‘DAUGHTER OF PISS’, FOR OF PISS THOU ART A TRUE DEVOTEE – AND BEHOLD, THERE RAN OUT PISS FROM UNDER THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE TEMPLE!”

In an instant, Rahab’s convulsions ceased, and she fixed Janey with a deep penetrating stare. Janey froze, her tongue poised before Rahab’s cunt. “What did you say?” she whispered. Suddenly she felt alarmed, bewildered, and unsafe. “How do you know my name?” her voice trembled. “And how do you know I like… piss?

Rahab appeared to be in some sort of trance. “DAUGHTER OF PISS,” she responded, “THE SPIRIT OF THE LORD HATH LIFTED ME UP AND BROUGHT ME UNTO THE UTTER GATE! AND THE PISS OF THE LORD HAS FILLED THE TEMPLE!”

Now Janey was beginning to feel genuinely spooked. She had always loved pee – but how was this woman able to look so deep into her heart? “How do you know these things?” she whimpered, trembling.

The Reverend Fumbel, meanwhile, was standing before his blond mentee. “Smoke for the Lord now, Harriet,” he instructed, as he began to stroke his cock with his left hand. Harriet, still kneeling, lit another cigarette, as she watched the preacher hold out his right towards her in prayer: “Lord Jesus, I lift up to you this beautiful smoking fuckslut Harriet. May she repent of her sinfulness, may she repent of loving her fiancé Michael, and of the possessiveness and jealousy into which that love led her. For you have sent the Horny Spirit to set us free from the curses of fidelity and monogamy. For the mind governed by love is death, but the mind governed by Pleasure is life and peace.”

“DAUGHTER OF PISS, HEAR THE WORD OF THE LORD!” Rahab’s voice echoed throughout the building. Harriet was concentrating hard enough on her own spiritual travails to be able to ignore it – but Janey couldn’t. She looked up from Rahab’s cunt, past her now heaving tits, and saw the deaconess’ face glowing, fervid, illuminated with a terrifying zeal. “BEHOLD, THERE RAN OUT PISS FROM UNDER THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE TEMPLE! AND THE PISS WAS A RIVER THAT I COULD NOT PASS OVER. AND THE LORD SAID TO ME, ‘DAUGHTER OF CUNT, HAST THOU SEEN THIS?’”

Reverend Fumbel’s cock was hard now, and he stroked it faster and faster in front of Harriet’s face. The girl took a deep drag on her cigarette – and this inhale was like nothing she had ever felt before. It was as if she was breathing in the Horny Spirit Himself. She trembled and shook and cried out in astonishment, as she felt the holy smoke pervade her body, lift her heavenwards. “Oh yes, Jesus,” she cried as she exhaled, “free me from the curse of love, make me a servant of Pleasure alone!”

Janey was kneeling too, but frozen in terror before Rahab’s cunt. The deaconess’ voice continued to echo, sonorous, orotund, booming – as if she was channelling a voice from afar, from beyond the natural realm, from a place Janey had never dared to go. This was, Janey feared in her heart, a prophecy, a proclamation issuing forth from Someone whose existence Janey had never thought to acknowledge: Someone who knew Janey better than she knew herself. This was, surely, not just Rahab speaking. “BEHOLD, THERE RAN OUT PISS FROM UNDER THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE TEMPLE!” the deaconess repeated, her panting voice now terrifying in its grandeur, “AND ALL TO WHOM THIS PISS CAME WERE SAVED. AND THEY SANG: HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH!”

The preacher was panting too now, his naked body and luminous soul enveloped by Harriet’s smoke, as his fist became a blur around his cockhead and he declaimed: “Harriet, you belong not to the realm of love but to the realm of the Horny Spirit, if indeed the Spirit of God lives in you. If anyone does not have the Horny Spirit, she does not belong to God. But if the Horny Spirit is within you, then set your fiancé Michael free: show him, by words and deeds, that he can fuck who he likes, when he likes, where he likes. Be the free-fucking whore you were created to be!”

Now Rahab was also standing up, her cunt still wet and pungent from her orgasm, just inches above Janey’s face. Janey felt compelled, as if possessed by a power greater than her, to gaze upwards and open her mouth wide. “BEHOLD, THERE RAN OUT PISS FROM UNDER THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE TEMPLE!” Janey echoed, overwhelmed by the Spirit which had taken hold of her, “AND ALL TO WHOM THIS PISS CAME WERE SAVED. AND THEY SANG: HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH!” Janey gasped: these were not her words, these were not her thoughts: these were the words of One who desired her, who wanted her as His, who was calling her, to be not just His fuckslut, not just His whore, but His piss-slut, who would be saved, and save others, by piss and the Horny Spirit. “HALLELUJAH, HALLELUJAH!” she repeated, as she felt her mind swimming, her body trembling, her cunt clenching.

“OH YES, GOD, YES!” Harriet screeched, as she formed her mouth into a cauldron of rich, thick, churning smoke, then opened wide. As she felt the first few drops of the preacher’s holy cum penetrate the smoke and land on her tongue, she screeched, still with her mouth open wide, “HU’ ME, JEFUF. FET ME FWEE FWOM VE CURFE OF WUV!”

“AMEN!” bellowed Reverend Fumbel, as his cock continued to explode, squirting volley after thick volley of Jesus-cum into Harriet’s smoky mouth and over her burning cigarette. Her mind was swimming now, ecstatic with redemption, with pleasure, with lust, with gratitude. She knew the curse of love had been lifted. And, as she exhaled exuberantly while gargling the preacher’s copious jizz-load, swallowed, then licked her cummy lips clean, she knew herself redeemed.

And then came the pee. Rahab screamed, wild with ecstasy, as she released the contents of her bladder into Janey’s face. And Janey screamed too, with a joy she had never known before: this was piss, but different from any she had ever tasted before; somehow she knew deep in her heart that this was miraculous piss, prophetic piss, piss from the mouth of God. “AND ALL TO WHOM THIS PISS COMES ARE SAVED!” screeched Rahab, as she looked down at Janey’ ecstatic face bathing in the golden effluent.

“AND WEY FING: ‘AWWEWUJAH, ‘AWWEWUJAH!” cried Janey in reply through her faceful of pee. Piss was flowing exuberantly across her pretty face and dark hair. It filled her mouth, and she gargled before spitting it out in a great ecstatic geyser so it splashed back into her face. All her scepticism had vanished, her cynicism had been banished: the Horny Spirit had come upon her, and the voice which had miraculously taken hold of her cried: “THEN THE LORD SAID UNTO ME: ‘IT SHALL COME TO PASS, THAT EVERYTHING THAT LIVETH, WHITHERSOEVER THE PISS SHALL COME, SHALL LIVE, FOR THEY SHALL BE SAVED. FOR THIS PISS FLOWS FROM THE SANCTUARY OF THE LORD!’”

“HARRIET!” intoned the preacher boldly, as he shook the last few drops of cum from his cockhead, “Are you willing to enter into a truly Christian marriage with Michael – a marriage built on lust, on licentiousness, devoid of jealousy or possessiveness?”

“JANEY!” bellowed Rahab. “Do you accept Jesus as your Lord and Fucker – from whose side flows the piss of salvation?”

“YES! FUCK YES!!” cried Harriet and Janey simultaneously. Harriet’s voice trembled with redemptive joy, as she continued to suck cum off her fingers and cigarette. And Janey’s free-thinking scepticism had vanished, for she knew herself swept up, taken, ravished by God. “Yes, I believe!” she cried. “Fuck me Jesus! Cleanse me in your piss!”

And so Reverend Dicky Fumbel stood tall and called out in a loud voice: “MICHAEL, COME FORTH!”

Harriet gasped, as she heard footsteps approaching a door on the far side of the sanctuary, saw the door open – and watched Michael enter.

“Oh God, Mikey!” she squealed, as she leapt up, ran across the church, and threw herself at him. “Mikey, you pleasure me so much!” Her arms wrapped around him, and she clung on tight, tears of joy coursing down her cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much, Mikey. And yet I set you free, Mikey – to fuck who you want, when you want, like a true Christian husband should. Be free, Mikey – that’s all I want for you!”

Now Reverend Dicky Fumbel, his cock semi-flaccid after having come in Harriet’s smoky mouth, strode over to where Janey was kneeling on the floor. He pulled her upwards so she was standing, leaning backwards with her head poised over the baptismal font. “Janey, I baptise you,” he declaimed, as his own pee began to spurt from his softening cock, “in the name of the Fucker, and of the Cunt, and of the Horny Spirit!” And as his piss flooded Janey’s mouth she began to glub helplessly, gargling and spitting and drooling pee. “‘AWWEWUJAH, ‘AWWEWUJAH!” she howled in piss-gargling ecstasy, “‘IF PIFF FWOWV FWOM ‘E FANCTUAWY OF ‘E WOR’! ‘AWWEWUJAH!”

Michael held Harriet tight. “You pleasure me too, Harriet…” he whispered into her smoky stinking hair. “And I will always be yours. Even as we fuck anyone and everyone we want, we will always be each other’s. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I baptise you with piss unto repentance,” intoned Dicky Fumbel, as the last spurts of his pee dribbled over Janey’s face, “but he that cometh after me is mightier than I: he shall baptise you with the Horny Spirit, and with cum!”

Joyful and ecstastic from her pee-drowning, Janey slid to the floor in a pungent yellow puddle. “Oh Jesus,” she called out in prayer, “thank you for saving me by the holy power of your pee. I am your piss-slut, now and forever…”

“Mikey…” Harriet paused, looking across at her girlfriend, “Mikey… I think Janey needs some head.”

“What about you, Hat?”

“Don’t mind me. I’ll just smoke while you eat her out. I think you both deserve that, don’t you?”

And so Michael lay on his back on the floor of All Cunts Langham Place, while Janey again lowered her flaring cunt onto his mouth. Harriet, dangling a Marlboro 100s red from her lips, watched with happy tears in her eyes while gently rubbing her clit. And Reverend Dicky, still praising God, jerked his cock rapidly into a new erection before sliding it from behind into Deaconess Rahab’s dribbling gash.

“Eat me, Mikey,” whimpered Janey as she ground her fuck-hole into Michael’s face. “Nobody eats me out like you do…” Harriet could not help but agree, as she exhaled a huge lungful of thick rich smoke over the pair.

“And you’ve got the tastiest cunt ever, Janey!” muttered Michael through his faceful of twat. And once again Harriet could not but agree, as she continued to blow smoke over the interface between Michael’s face and Janey’s cunt, as if in benediction of their coupling, and of their God-given fucking freedom.

Jesus, thank you for taking away my jealousy! Harriet thought to herself. How great thou art, and how great this is!

Janey was already hot and horny, and it did not take long before she was moaning at her impending orgasm. Michael’s cock lay untouched, stiff, huge and throbbing, the head purple and bulging with desire, a small puddle of pre-cum leaking onto his abdomen. Harriet slid downward and exhaled another cloud of smoke, this time directly over his cock. “Oh God, oh fuck,” moaned Michael, “I’m…” – and Harriet knew what that meant. Taking another deep drag on her cigarette, she wrapped her lips around Michael’s cockhead and began to exhale through her mouth, caressing the big beautiful exploding cock with a divine perichoresis of lips, tongue and smoke.

And as Janey’s cunt convulsed, brought to orgasm by Michael’s expert tongue and lips, Harriet tasted the first joyous spurts of boy-cum land on her tongue. And as Janey continued to screech her cunt-ecstasy, praising God as she twitched and writhed, Harriet kept her lips locked around Michael’s shaft, her eyes widening and her cheeks bulging to capture the smoky oral creampie. Oh fuck, this is good! she thought, savouring the heavenly combination of fresh hot cum and rich full-strength smoke which now filled her mouth. Still holding the precious creamy liquid in her mouth, as wisps of residual smoke leaked from her nostrils, she looked up at Janey, who was now lifting her cunt off Michael’s face and turning to face her. With as much of a smile as was possible under the circumstances, Harriet jutted out her jaw and opened her mouth wide so Janey could see the creamy load steaming and smoking in her mouth, as if to say, “You want some of this, don’t you?”

Janey understood the wordless question, and tipped her head back, so Harriet could lean forward, purse her lips, and empty her slimy mouthful of semen into Janey’s wide-open mouth in one long, slow, gloopy string. “Oh, your cum, Mikey, I love your cum…” Janey whimpered as the warm salty taste slowly filled her mouth, and Harriet took a last deep drag on her Marlboro before stubbing it out on the floor. Harriet locked her lips over Janey’s, blowing smoke into her bestie’s mouth as, together, they played with the load of fuck-slime, gargling, blowing bubbles, making wet raspberry noises with their cum-coated lips, then passing the load back and forth, sucking it out of each other’s mouths, spitting it back over each other’s faces, and then licking it back up again, until their faces and necks were coated with an obscene mess of cum and drool.

“Thank you, Harriet,” Janey moaned into Harriet’s cummy smoky mouth, “for letting your fiancé eat me out. And thank you for bringing me to this place where I have met Jesus.”

And as she licked cum off Janey’s face, Harriet replied, “Mikey is free, Janey, as are you. Free in Jesus to fuck who you like when you like.”

“Jesus has set me free, Harriet,” cried Janey, as she licked a glob of snotty cum from Harriet’s left nostril. “Is this how you felt when you first met the Lord?”

“Yes, Janey. It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Harriet slurped a smear of cum from Janey’s right ear.

Janey nodded, her face luminescent with cum, piss and the joy of salvation.

“Janey, I have something to ask you,” added Harriet, coming close and breathing her smoky stinking breath into Janey’s mouth.

“Yes, Hat?” Janey moaned.

“Janey… will you marry me?”

To be continued...