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 “You can’t wear that!” exclaimed Alison.“Why not? Isn’t it sluttish enough?” replied Claire. She was proudly showing off her tight black wet-look PVC one-piece dress, which barely covered the distance between her nipples and her ass. Her cunt lips peeped out cheekily from underneath.“It’s too sluttish! This is an old-style religious service we’re going to: you’ve got to look modest and chaste and stuff – like they dressed before the Enlightenment.”“Oh, but that’s so disgusting! Besides, how can you be ‘too sluttish’? There’s no such fucking thing as ‘too sluttish’!”“Yeah, I know – but that’s how things are with these Old Believers. You need to cover up – long sleeves and long trousers and things. Here, try this,” said Alison, flinging some pieces of clothing out of her trunk.“Where the fuck did you get these, Al?” Claire grimaced.“Fancy dress party: ‘millenial’ themed…”“These are so fucking awful,” declared Claire as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a blouse. “Look, the only tears in these jeans are at the knees: there aren’t any on my ass or my cunt. And this blouse is so fucking thick so you can’t even see my tits through it. How’s anyone gonna feel me up in this?”“They’re not – that’s the point! In those days it was considered bad form to feel someone up without their consent.”“Well, why would anyone withhold consent? Fucking Jesus!”Alison ignored the question, but continued, “Here, and you have to wear these.”“What the fuck is this?” asked Claire, holding up a piece of clothing the like of which she had never seen before.“It’s called a ‘bra’. You wear it on your tits.”“What, like this?” asked Claire, incredulously.“No, no, it’s what they called ‘underwear’. You put it on under the blouse. And these –” Alison brandished an even stranger item of clothing, “are called ‘panties’. You wear them under your trousers.”“Is the point of all this gear to stop anyone from even trying to fuck you? ‘Coz that what it looks like!”“Yeah, maybe – but when in Rome… And they’re all going to be old-style believers there today, so let’s just try and behave, shall we?”“Fucking God-freaks, you mean. Illegal, subversive, anti-social religious pervs. And I bet they’re all Undesirables: blacks and coloureds and…”“Claire, calm down! We just go and sit and keep our mouths shut. Even if you can’t stand Rob, do it for Eva’s sake – okay?”“Okay – but you gotta fuck me first before we go in – otherwise, I’m gonna go fucking crazy sitting in church for a whole hour with no jerking off allowed. Jesus…”~Conveniently, there was a bench on Tottenham Cunt Road where Alison could eat Claire’s pussy before the funeral started – even if doing so around jeans and panties made things a bit more complicated than they istanbul travesti were used to. (“Jesus, Al, how did they ever fuck in the olden days?!”) And when Alison knocked twice on the green door, a smiling dark-skinned nun let them in and led them down a long plain corridor, to a small chapel with pews and kneelers arranged in a semi-circle facing a simple stone altar. “Hey, it’s like our fuck lab!” whispered Claire. “Is that where they fuck, on that table thing? That must be so fucking uncomfortable!”“Sh!” signalled Alison. “Don’t use that word here!”“What word? ‘Uncomfortable’? What’s wrong with saying…”“‘Fuck’!” whispered Alison. “Don’t say ‘fuck’ here – it’s rude!”“Oh yeah, sorry – I forgot… Don’t say ‘fuck’, yeah, okay…”There were already a few people kneeling at the pews, praying or whispering quietly to each other. Unlike at Wankminster Abbey, no one was fucking. “No one’s even jerking off!” whispered Claire to Alison, amazed at the novel sight. “But look, I was right – they’re all coloureds and Asians and…”“Shhhh!” Alison signalled to Claire to be quiet. In front of the altar, on a dais, was a simple wooden coffin. And seated in the front pew, backs to the door, were Eva and Rob, talking quietly with a dark-skinned priest whom Alison presumed to be Father Ambrose. Rob was dressed in a black suit and tie. Eva was wearing a long black dress, her hair straightened back into a simple ponytail, a black mantilla over her head. Alison and Claire sat down in a back pew.“Jesus, Al, look at Eva!” whispered Claire. “She looks awful! No one’s gonna want to fuck something looking like that – oops, sorry, F-word. And who’s the Asian in the pyjamas?”“I think he’s the priest – Father Ambrose. I think he might be Goan…”“Well, they all look the same to me… Hey, is it true that if you go to confession you can get your throat fucked by the priest? That must be – oh fuck, sorry, there I go again – oops, oh fuck, I just can’t stop saying…”“SHUT THE FUCK UP, CLAIRE!” Alison whispered, but louder than she meant to. A few heads turned in the front pews. “Sorry…” Alison mouthed apologetically to the congregation. Eva and Rob noticed, turned, grinned and waved at their friends, as the chapel slowly filled with mourners.Alison had never been to a non-fucking church service before – but she had at least been to church, and so knew to follow along with what everyone else was doing and copy their behaviour. Claire, on the other hand, was finding it very difficult. They were barely ten minutes into the service before she started whispering into Alison’s ear, “I am so fucking bored and so fucking horny. Hey, let’s sneak out and have a quick fuck – they won’t notice.”“No, Claire, travesti istanbul just sit down and shut up!” whispered Alison urgently.“Surely they won’t mind if I just jerk off quietly here in the back pew. I won’t make any noise, I promise…” She slipped her hand between her thighs and started frustratedly rubbing her crotch through her denim jeans.“You’re already making noise, Claire. Just shut up and sit still!”“How can you stand it? Aren’t you horny too?” whispered Claire.The truth is, Alison was. She was a fucker through and through and was devoting much of her attention, as was her habit, to scouring the congregation for fuckable specimens. Truth be told, there weren’t many of them: most of the congregation looked, Alison thought, old and ugly: presumably all sterilised specimens of various types of Undesirables allowed, for exceptional reasons, to remain in the Union after the Expulsion – the last, sad, hidden representatives of their once-numerous communities, now decimated by exile or execution. But she amused herself by wondering what the few young, dark-skinned, handsome (or pretty) specimens of Undesirability present kept hidden under their well-buttoned clothes – remembering what Eva had said: “The few of us that are still here are only allowed to remain in order to satisfy white people’s penchant for fucking black ass…”Father Ambrose was now reading out loud:Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.As Alison listened, she wondered briefly whether it was true. She felt weary and burdened, to be sure – from being ‘loved’ by Rob, from being attacked by Eva, from being assaulted by Chad, from watching the old man mown down in cold blood in the name of the Enlightenment, from all the jealousy and spite which seemed to permeate the whole world of state-sponsored fucking. Was there really someone who could lighten her burden? Tears welled up behind her eyes. Claire muttered next to her, “Fuck, I can’t jerk off through these fucking clothes. Is there a bathroom anywhere here?”“Off that corridor, I think – where we came in.”“See you later,” whispered Claire, sliding out of their pew and disappearing.For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God…“Oh, Jesus, this is heavy!” thought Alison to herself. “‘Love… love… love’ – that’s all they fucking talk about, these God-freaks.” From her istanbul travestileri position close to the door, Alison could, much to her embarrassment, hear Claire moaning from the behind the door to the toilets. “Oh Jesus,” Alison thought, “if she wants to fucking jerk off, can’t she do it quietly? Last time I take her anywhere…”Who will separate us from the love of God? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.“‘Conquerors through love?’ What the fuck does that mean? Is that possible? No, no, no – Mommy and Daddy taught me that ‘love’ oppresses and imprisons people. It is Pleasure that conquers all things… But if that’s so, why aren’t I in that fucking bathroom with Claire, eating her cunt and letting her fist my ass? Why am I sitting here with all these ugly people listening to this bullshit? I mean, it can’t be true: I bet they don’t even believe it themselves. They’re all gonna be like Rob and Eva – sitting here listening to God-shit, then the moment they’re out the door they’ll be fucking the first ass which comes their way…”Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.From the other side of the toilet door, Alison could hear Claire building up to her orgasm: “Oh yeah, oh fuck,” she was muttering, “yeah, rub that fucking clit, baby – I wanna fucking come!” But for a moment Alison ignored her, intrigued anew by the words she was hearing from Father Ambrose: “‘A bride adorned’! Not a bride oppressed or violated, but ‘adorned’! What the fuck…?”And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying: See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.And then something strange happened: Alison did not know how or why, but she felt compelled to kneel. She was, for the first time in her life, not kneeling to suck a guy’s dick – but kneeling for something unutterably rich and strange. She felt compelled to worship, to adore something – or Someone – greater than herself, so much greater, in fact, that she could not even attempt to seduce Him. And yet He loved her. He offered her not Pleasure, but victory through His Love. With Him, she would not need to keep eating every new cunt, or fucking every new dick that came her way, for He was adorning her as His bride. Suddenly, Alison thought, it was as if a veil had fallen from her eyes. All the ‘marriage’-talk, the ‘love’-talk, even the ‘fuck’-talk – these things were just signs, shadows, typoi, signposts to the eternal Love which now beckoned to her from Beyond.

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