Depravicus
THE SEQUEL
by
GORDON
Depravicus -
The Sequel first published in 1996 by Hodder & Stoughton.
Published as an eBook in 2013 by Chimera eBooks.
ISBN
9781780802961
Chimera (
ki-mir'a,
ki-
) a creation of the imagination, a wild
fantasy.
New authors
are always
welcome, or if you’re already a published author and have existing
work, the eBook rights of which remain with or have reverted to
you, we would love to
hear from you
.
This work is
sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or
otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated
without the publisher's prior written consent in any form of
binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and
without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent
purchaser. The author asserts that all characters depicted in this
work of fiction are eighteen years of age or older, and that all
characters and situations are entirely imaginary and bear no
relation to any real person or actual happening.
Copyright Ray
Gordon. The right of Ray Gordon to be identified as author of this
book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the
Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This novel is
fiction - in real life practice safe sex.
One
Is there a
fragrance on God's earth more exhilarating than the bouquet of worn
knickers? The sights of nature; the magnificent waterfalls,
erupting volcanoes with their majestic lava flows... Do these
sights transcend a fleeting glimpse of a triangular patch of silk
following the contours of the female sex lips? Are snow-capped
mountain peaks more stimulating than the moist crevasse dividing
the fleshy vulval lips? These are the sights which inspire man to
procreate. To fuck. These are the sights, fragrances and sensations
the ex-Reverend William Entercock craves. Is there a more powerful
urge than the urge to fuck? Is there a man more devious than
William Entercock?
His mind
flooding with fond memories of naked girls, Will Entercock gazed
wistfully at his cassock hanging in the wardrobe. Many times while
in the confession box, he'd raised the black cloth and slipped the
purple crown of his rock-hard cock into a pretty mouth. Many times
in the church he'd spunked down a nun's throat, shagged the arse
off the daughter of an innocent villager. He recalled a novice nun
hiding beneath his cassock when the choirboy-spanking Bishop had
made an untimely entrance. Taking a damn good admonishing from the
boss isn't easy with a nun gobbling your throbbing glans and
swallowing your sperm.
Those were the
days, he thought, reflecting on his three years as priest of
Cumsdale Church. Six months had passed since he'd stood in the
pulpit delivering his last sermon to the villagers. Six months
since he'd opened the basement bar beneath the church and sold
duty-free alcohol and cigarettes. Bent MOT certificates, dodgy tax
discs, cannabis plants, vibrators complete with batteries... The
Sunday lunchtime sessions of heavy drinking and illicit trading had
become a tradition, a way of life in the village of Cumsdale. He'd
loved his time as an unorthodox clergyman. His numerous visits to
the local convent school, spreadeagling girls over the altar, the
run-ins with the Mother Superior...
"You all
right, Will?" Josie asked as she wandered into the bedroom.
"Yes, I'm
fine," he smiled. "Are you off now?"
"The taxi's
here," she replied softly. "So, this is it. I'll see you in a
couple of months."
"Right," he
sighed pensively.
"I know you
don't want me to go, Will."
"No, you go.
You have no choice." What was he going to do without a cunt to lick
and finger and fuck and...
"You will
behave yourself while I'm away, won't you?" she asked, kissing his
cheek.
"As always,
Josie."
"You've got
your computer to play with, so you'll be all right."
And his cock
to play with. He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "I shall carry
on as normal in your absence, my angel of carnal lust."
"That's what
worries me. I don't want to get back and find that you've been
arrested for looking at dodgy porn sites." Glancing at his cassock
hanging in the wardrobe, her brown eyes frowned. "You're not
thinking of... You've left the priesthood, Will."
"They threw me
out, Josie," he murmured. "The hypocritical cock-sucking,
choirboy-shagging bastards..."
"No, they
didn't. You left of your own accord. Well, almost of your own
accord. You won't do anything silly while I'm away, will you?"
"Have faith,
Josie. Have faith."
"I know how
much you miss the priesthood, Will. But you've moved on now. The
days of drinking, smoking your funny cigarettes, screwing, making
money on the side; they couldn't have lasted for ever. You do want
to move on, don't you?"
No, he didn't.
"Yes, of course I do."
"You're
thirty-two, Will. It's time you settled down. Remember what the
Bishop said?"
"Yes, yes I
remember," he muttered bitterly.
"You did a
deal with him. You left the priesthood and, in exchange, he gave
you this house, the presbytery. Don't forget that you've upset a
lot of people in high places. If you're thinking of wearing your
cassock again..."
"I know,
Josie. I know."
"They'll be
down on you like a ton of bricks. I wasn't going to mention it,
but..."
"What?"
"There's a
girl been hanging around in the lane."
"Really?" he
grinned. "How old is she? I mean, who is she?"
"I don't know
who she is. I've seen her several times over the past month or
so."
"Why didn't
you tell me?"
"I know how
suspicious you are. You'd have probably said that she's working for
MI5 or the KGB. It's probably nothing. Just someone staying in the
village or..."
"Or a spy," he
breathed, rubbing his chin. "You know that people are out to get
me."
"Don't start
all that nonsense again, Will. I wish I'd never mentioned it."
"I'm pleased
you did. If some bird's spying on me... You know what she's after,
don't you?"
"What?"
"My cock."
"You are
awful," she giggled.
"And I get
worse."
"All you think
about is your cock."
"I have a
sadly neglected cock, a pining penis, a derelict dick, a..."
"You did me
three times last night, and twice this morning. I don't want you
sticking your cock anywhere while I'm away."
"Me? Good
grief, as if I'd stick my cock anywhere."
"We'll get
married as soon as I'm back from Moscow."
"Will we? I
mean... Yes, yes we will."
Carrying the
girl's suitcases out to the taxi, Will waved her goodbye. Married?
Marriage was all very well but why bother to go through all that
palaver for the sake of a piece of paper? A certificate to certify
birth, to certify insanity, to certify death, to certify cycling
proficiency, swimming, life saving, health and safety at work,
hygiene, wanking... Wanking? There were enough certificates
floating around without adding to the list unnecessarily. Will and
Josie were living together as man and wife, so why the need to
prove that to anyone? But that was Josie's wish. Thy will be done.
Like fuck it would.
Will
Entercock's wish was to return to the days of drunken debauchery,
wild sex, spunking girls' shaved pussy lips, rampant masturbation,
bondage and spanking, anal intercourse, making money... Days of
insane living, insane parties and sex so debauched... Talking of
insanity, he mused, cringing as he noticed a middle-aged woman
approaching. Slipping through the gate, he made a dash up the path
to his front door. But it was too late.
"Good morning,
Father," the woman called. "I'm sorry. You're not Father any more,
are you? I just can't get used to it."
He had to get
used to going without it for two months. "Neither can I, Mrs
Baxter," Will sighed, ambling down the path towards her.
"I was
wondering whether you'd have a word with my daughter," she said,
hooking the lank rat tails of her brown hair behind her ears. "You
know how I worry about her."
And he worried
about her. "How is Chloe enjoying working in Spain?" he asked.
"Apparently it's pretty hot over there at the moment."
"No, no,
Father. I'm talking about my other daughter. I'm talking about
Marianne."
"Marianne? You
only have one daughter," he replied exasperatedly. "We've been
through this time and time again, Mrs Baxter."
"She's
eighteen now," the woman said with a pride that would have made any
psychiatrist cringe.
"Eighteen?" he
echoed, his dark eyes frowning. She didn't exist.
There was no point in arguing with the crazy woman. She'd told
everyone that Chloe had been born in a car park, which would have
been perfectly feasible had she not added that the car park was
located on the shores of the neon seas of Saturn. The woman had no
certificate of marriage, let alone a birth certificate for
any
daughter, real or
imaginary. She should have a certificate of insanity, Will
reflected, recalling the time she'd accused him of raping her.
Watching the woman pulling her knickers out of her anal gully, he
again wished he'd not bumped into her. She was a spinster, and
completely and utterly mad.
"Is she really
eighteen?" Will asked, rubbing his chin pensively as he tried to
show some interest in her imaginary plight. "My goodness, how the
years have flown. I remember when she was cock-high to a
grasshopper's cock."
"I don't know
where the years have gone," she sighed. "It was only last week when
I was changing Marianne's nappies."
"You mean, it
seems
like it was only last week."
"No, it was
last week. Wednesday, to be precise. Just before elevenses." She
looked up and down the lane and then moved closer to Will. "She had
a little accident," she whispered. "A little urinary accident."
"Really?" he
said, his face grimacing. Perhaps she did come from Saturn.
"It happens
from time to time," she giggled. "She drinks too much, that's the
problem."
He wished he
did. Those were the days.
"I'm trying to
wean her off the breast, but it's not easy."
"Er... No, it
can't be easy weaning an eighteen-year-old girl off the breast,"
Will said, humouring the woman.
"She's rather
a late developer," she smiled. "It runs in the family."
"Breasts run
in the family?"
"On her
father's side. They're rife, you know."
"Oh, I see.
Actually, I don't see. But not to worry. I wonder whether it'll
rain later."
"Between you
and me, she's finding womanhood difficult to come to terms
with."
"If she's
still in nappies and breastfeeding, then I'm not surprised. Look...
I'm no longer in the priesthood, Mrs Baxter. I really don't think
there's anything I can do to help."
"A problem
halved in a problem shared, Father."
"Is it?"
"But, of
course."
"I'd like to
halve and share your problem but, seeing as the girl doesn't exist,
there's nothing I can do."
"She just
needs a little guidance. You see, she won't talk to me. Since her
father ran off with a gay hermaphrodite, she's become a recluse.
I'm sure you could get her to open up."
If she existed he'd love to
open
her up.
"I'd be so
grateful if you'd just talk to her."
"I suppose I
am pretty good at oral sessions with teenage girls. All right, if
you think it'll help," he finally conceded. Anything for a quiet
life. "You are talking about Chloe, aren't you?"
"No, no,
Father. I'm talking about her twin sister, Marianne. She's two
years younger than Chloe."
"A twin sister
two years younger than her twin sister?"
"That's right.
They're identical twins."
"I'm sure they
are."
"I'll send her
over now, if you're free."
"Yes, of
course."
"He had ovary
problems, that's what did it."
"Who did?"
"Her father.
It affected his hormones, you know."
"Ah, yes. That
would explain everything, Mrs Baxter."
This was all
he needed, he knew as he watched the woman wander down the lane.
Returning to his house, he closed the front door and grabbed a can
of lager from the fridge. The house was quiet, empty, without
Josie. Her hi-fi blasting out, her giggles, her crashing around in
the kitchen... Life with Josie was great, but two months without
her was going to... Was going to see a few changes, he decided.
Many years ago he'd had the calling, the calling to join the
priesthood. And now it had come to pass that he had the calling
again. The calling to don his cassock and shag sexy girls, abuse
his power and take advantage of the female villagers, grow cannabis
plants and get drunk. Grabbing his cassock from the wardrobe he
slipped out of his shirt and trousers and pulled the garment over
his head.
