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The men of Bethel arrived in a grump at the front gate, led by Mary, impossibly chirpy and over-excited.

‘See, Mister Michael! See! I bought them, I brought them all up here. See?’

‘Very good work, Mary. Now go and help Eunice will you? She’s trying to rescue our things.’

Mary skipped off happily towards her sister, still standing there confused, absently picking things up and then putting them down again, uncertain as to what to do with all these treasures surrounding her. She was sorting through the minutiae of the Michael’s lives and quite surprised by what she found. She was holding an enema bag that trailed a long thin plastic tube.

‘What’s this, Mary?’ she asked.

‘Come on girls, try and get something done up there!’ yelled Michael, ‘get some clothes for Mrs. Michael! Don’t worry about that!’ and then he turned back to his solemn conversation with the men, indicating with his arms every now and then, gesturing, miming the picking up of a house and the placing of upright poles.

The men of Bethel visibly relaxed. Mary’s tall tales had involved them rebuilding the entire resort. No amount of extra cash could make up for the ordeal of that much physical labor. The women could do that.


Father Lathaniel Cooper stood alone on the beach in front of Number One bungalow, listening to the sweet sound of a sinner sobbing from within. He checked around. Apart from Beelzebub on the point, nobody. Opportunity was a’knocking at his pious, Christian door – there was a soul to be saved; what greater purpose was there in life? In the nick of time for this fat reprobate – she’d eluded him for years. The priest crunched his way over the sand to the sundeck. He was trembling.

The moaning inside was louder now – she sounded like a bull about to give birth. Demons escaping, he thought. Lathaniel waited outside the window for a clue. Who knows what he might find. After a last death-rattle she seemed to quieten down. His moment had come.

He clutched his bible closer to his chest and walked to the door, opened the fly-screen with a squeak and gasped as he saw the bulk of Mrs. Michael, her body half on the bed, half kneeling in prayer. She was naked with a sheet draped loosely around her, that great arse staring him in the face as he stood in the door. She was sobbing, Here was a soul in deep distress. Father Lathaniel moved closer, stood behind her and began to speak in a soothing voice.

‘Our Father, who art in  heaven, hallowed be thy name…’

He was standing right behind her naked arse, could see her swollen genitals as she sobbed. His eyes were drawn down to that hairy spot. Satan watched and chuckled. With an effort he dragged his eyes away and continued his prayer. She was sobbing beneath him; great guttural sobs of despair and whispering something that might have been a prayer.

‘Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done,  in earth as it is in heaven…’

God, he was thinking, God, look at that, look at that beauty, the beauty of a woman’s form and that fanny, that fanny, God, God almighty, let me free to bury my face in that woman, God let me.

Give us this day our daily bread.

He could feel himself getting harder, despite his whispered prayers, feel the blood run back into that little Hitler in his loins. His breathing was getting shallow, there was a lurch in the pit of his stomach, a warmth below his balls. The front of his preacher’s shorts was sticking out, a protrusion he couldn’t control.

‘And forgive us our trespasses…’

He moved closer, rubbed the bulge gently against her buttock, pressing slightly, moving his hips forward to meet her. She did not respond.

He pressed a bit harder, but again there was no response. No refusal either.

‘…as we forgive them that trespass against us…’

Mrs. Michael seemed oblivious. She was sobbing and babbling nonsense throughout. In his few rational moments Lathaniel thought she was talking in tongues, but it was the empty bottle rolling around under the bed that was really writing the monologue. She was staggeringly, royally, unredeemably drunk.

‘And lead us not into temptation…’

He knelt down behind her, between her outstretched legs, pressed himself against the crack in that massive arse, pushing his thighs towards her, aware of a great stirring in his loins. He was out of control, kneeling there, prayer book in hand, shaking, praying, pushing towards that body, his cock straining hard against the inside of his shorts. The pressure was getting unbearable now. He pushed again, harder this time, rubbing that erection against the soft yielding flesh while she moaned, even imagined she was meeting his needs, gently resisting, playing the game.

‘…but deliver us from evil…’

The preacher’s movements became increasingly jerky, even as he was praying his voice started to falter, his lip shuddered, his whole body was trembling. He could take it no more. After glancing around furtively he undid the top of his shorts, unbuttoned his fly and disentangled that rod from his underpants, impelled by that stiff pole of flesh to push into that shuddering woman, to push and prod and go into her like all men do to all women.

‘For thine is the Kingdom…’

He buried his upper body in the soft skin of her back, nuzzled his face down into the fold of her neck, kissing her chins and rubbing his freshly shaven face around hers. Her body mass seemed to float loose in space, so cushioned was she on every side by layers of fat, she rolled with the flow like a water-filled balloon. She was still moaning but softly now, a lilting note coming into the noise, a kind of high pitched sigh. She sounded like she was whistling but actually Mrs. Michael had passed out. Those sweet sighs and tiny grunts were snores. She was lost to the world.

‘…the power, and the glory, for ever and ever…’

He was transported, the bible thrown away, both arms splayed on either side of the blubber, shoving and preaching and slathering as he did so, engulfed by the act. It was the congress of the whippet and the whale.

And this is the picture that presented itself to Mary as she burst into the room with a bundle of clothes she had rescued from the hill.




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