the preacher came into the room, his eyes blazing and his cassock a deep vermilion. he'd had a call on the immorality hotline downtown. seems as though there was a family hereabouts who were all going crazy for each other. he strode into our pathetic kitchen, squashing clay's pet tarantual underfoot

"Stimpy!" screamed Clay emotionally

"Fucking arachnid. Caaarrse of the eart!" rasped the preacher. A wild haired man, of fifty five, his eternal battle with the whisky bottle was common knowledge round town. Since he arrived in the uSA aged 6, from Co.Kildare in Ireland, his life had been one long feckin' mess. Still, there was the endless round of young virginal choirboys, J&B whisky and Dallas re-runs on cable.

I lingered at the doorway, wearing a Bart Simpson T shirt and fuck all else. My crotch dripped with my brother and dad's spunk. I hoped like hell I wasn't pregnant. After having been shafted by them though, my pussy was tingling like mad and I wanted more more more. Still, Clay was being a jerk, swanning round, with a huge spliff in his mouth, totalyy wired, eyes glazed

"Wow! Like, I just fucked my sister!"

He grabbed a phone and started calling up his mates.

"Dude, like stop beating off, man. My fucking sister man, she's putting out! Yeah, thats what I said! Get your ass here now! and bring some beers!"

The preacher hadn't noticed my idiot brother's behaviour. He strode towards me, his eyes ablaze, his garments wriggling. I thought, ah, hell, whatever. He's gonna give me some bullshit about saving my sorry soul and then I'm going to have to suck him off in the name of redemption. Shit. It had been quite an evening, so I figured, what the hey.

I leaned on the wall, and ran my hands down my front, my eyes kissing his. I had a vision of linda Blair from The Exorcist, but quickly tried to forget it. After all, he did look a bit like Carras.

He came towards me, his breath stinking like a thousand camel's backsides. His eyes lingered on Bart Simpson's teeth, which were situated over my pert puffy nipples

I pulled my T-shirt over my head so I was naked in front of him. He drew breath and paused, his hand hovering in mid air, about to reach for my head. Instead i guided it down so it was moving over my torso. My mum had gone into her room and was playing Conway Twitty records at a suspiciously high volume, the way she did whenever my dad came home drunk.

My little pussy ached. I had 'had it' twice already and damn, i wanted it some more.

"Ohh child" the old guy croaked in a dry husky voice "oohhh, you poor child..let me save you..."

I took him into my room and shut the door. I heard clay knocking frantically and the sound of a car screaming to a halt outside , then the excited babble of voices as his friends raced in.

They would have to wait, I smiled grimly to myself, as i lifted the errant holyman's robes...