The Priest's Hole

Saskia was sat on the sofa, watching TV and scratching her cunt. It was starting to get light outside, and she had been awake all night. She heard her mother's footsteps coming down the staircase. Saskia stopped scratching but she left her hand where it was.

Belinda came into the front room and perched on the edge of the armchair and looked intently at her daughter, who was slumped on the sofa with her hand inside her pyjama trousers.

"Morning mum, you sleep OK?" asked Saskia without looking round from the telly.

Belinda pulled her nightie together over her chest. "Not really. Have you been to bed yet?"

"Not yet, I just want to finish watching this."

"Do you know what day it is today, Saskia?"

"Tuesday?" The itch seemed to be in the folds around her cunt flaps. She wondered if it was a yeast infection.

"It's Thursday. But I meant do you know what date it is?"

"The fifteenth?" Saskia guessed.

"It's the twenty-ninth."

"Oh, OK. Cool." Saskia took her hand out from under her waistband and sniffed her fingers with interest.

"Tomorrow is the thirtieth, it's the last day of the month and if we don't pay the rent by then the housing association said they are going to start eviction proceedings. They're going to kick us out, Saskia!" Belinda seemed like she was about to cry.

Saskia looked at her mother with a puzzled expression, still inhaling the fishy smell from her fingers. "I thought April had thirty-one days?"

"April has thirty days. And anyway, we're in June."

"Oh wow, shows what I know." Saskia looked back at the TV and slid her hand back inside her pyjama bottoms to continue scratching. The itch had somehow moved from her cunt to her asshole, so she leaned to one side on the sofa so she could get her fingers into her buttock cleft.

"Saskia, we need to pay the rent. We have to pay the rent. And there's only one way we can get the money to do that. It has to come from the vicar. He's the only one who is going to help us."

"Yes, I know mum. But you know what he wants to do to me. I'm not going to do that. And anyway, is being homeless so bad? I've seen some of those homeless guys in the park, and they seem to do all right for themselves. And it's June, it's summertime. Wouldn't you rather be outside, anyway?" Saskia was grimacing as she gave her anus a deep, hard scratching.

"Saskia, you are being silly. I can't talk to you when you're like this. Just please say you'll do it. He's the only one who is going to help us." Belinda started to cry.

Saskia stopped scratching and took her hands out of her trousers and turned the TV off with the remote control. "I'm going to bed, I'm exhausted. I'll see you later, mum."

Reverend Doctor Kyle Whicker was in the corner shop. He was incognito, he was not wearing his dog collar and he had a baseball cap and sunglasses on. He did this in order to disguise his identity, and the chap who worked behind the shop counter was kind enough to play along and pretend that he did not recognise Kyle as the incumbent of the parish church. Kyle was buying alcohol, pornography and sausage rolls. Eight cans of White Ace. Half a bottle of Wray and Nephew. 40+. Score. Two large Ginsters. Everything he needed to enjoy his day off.

"Would you like a carrier bag, sir?" asked Malik the shopkeeper.

"Yes, please."

Kyle was supposed to be writing his sermon for Sunday, but he had got sidetracked. He had a desperate urge to have a wank. He could not stop thinking about Saskia. Little bitch. Fucking whore. He had been expecting Belinda to phone all morning, but he had not heard anything. It was noon. He walked back to the vicarage sipping a can of cider. For lunch, he ate two large sausage rolls with whole grain mustard. He sat thinking about Saskia's pert little behind and what to do next. Look at a magazine. Drink cider until your head spins.

The phone in the office rang and roused Kyle from his reverie. He got up from the kitchen table and walked down the hallway to the office and picked up the phone. It was a call from the church treasurer, Mr Prosser. Kyle did his best to sound sober. He hadn't opened the rum yet, so he was probably OK, he thought.

"Sorry to bother you on your day off, old boy," began Mr Prosser. "But I'm trying to pull the books together to send over to the accountants, and there is a couple of transactions I've not got any record of. I was wondering if I could come round and borrow your cheque book for the afternoon so I can match the cheque stubs up?"

"Hmm, it won't be convenient this afternoon, I'm afraid Alan. If you come to the service tomorrow, I'll bring the cheque book and my receipts with me. Which transactions is it specifically that you are struggling with?"

"There are quite a few cheque payments. I've checked with the bank and they were all made out to cash and cashed at the local branch. Do you remember what they could be for?"

"Various miscellaneous expenses, I imagine," said Kyle vaguely. "You know how these day-to-day costs mount up."

"The total of the cheques I'm looking at is £5,400. And I've only gone back four months so far."

"There's probably some charitable giving in there as well. I'll check my records and we can talk about it after the service tomorrow, I should have five minutes or so to spare."

"There's also a direct debit payment each month to someone called PR Publications, any idea what that might be?"

Kyle glanced at the latest copy of Razzle that was on his desk. "I think that might be my subscription for the Church Times."

"Oh, OK, that explains that then."

"Good, glad I could help." He leafed through the magazine, pondering the moral turpitude of the ladies who appeared in it.

"OK, Kyle. Thanks for that. I'll see you in church," said Mr Prosser, and the line went dead.

Saskia wanted to look her best for church. She showered and washed her hair for the first time that week. After drying herself, she put on some of Belinda's makeup, inexpertly painting her eyes and lips. She carefully braided the long dark hair on either side of her head into a plait. She put on black hold-up stockings, but no other underwear. She wore clothes that she had not worn for years, a tartan skirt and a vest top. She had grown a little plumper since she wore the top last, and it was tight around her bust and rode up over her belly. Her pink nipples were visible through the flimsy fabric. She wore a pair of black ankle boots she had bought for a funeral and borrowed her mum's denim jacket. She admired her appearance in the mirror, and this helped her to ignore the discomfort of her tight clothes and boots. She thought she looked gorgeous and she blew herself a kiss. Before leaving the house, she tore the back off of an old envelope and wrote a note on it using a purple felt-tip pen she found on top of the microwave. She folded the note up and put it in her jacket pocket, then set off for church.

Saskia sat on a pew at the front of the church during the service. There was only about ten other people in attendance, including the vicar and the organist. Kyle swept in through the door wearing his long white robes. Saskia tried to catch his eye as he preached, but he glanced at her quickly then studiously ignored her. She pulled up her skirt to flash her hairy cunt at him. He blushed slightly, but he was too much of a professional to be put off of his preaching by a glimpse of bush, and he continued to preach in the same warm, level tone. The sermon was short. Communion was delivered in an unhurried but businesslike manner. Saskia was last in line at the rail. As the vicar dropped a wafer into her outstretched hand, she passed the folded note to him.

After the service was finished, as the organist played a grandiose voluntary, Kyle stood at the back of the church by the door and Mr Prosser the treasurer approached him.

"Kyle, lovely service as always. Loved the sermon, very thought-provoking."

"Thank you, Alan," said Kyle coldly, knowing that this was just the treasurer's preamble to what he really wanted to say. "If you could just give me a moment please, there is a pastoral issue I need to deal with."

Saskia was stood at the side of the aisle, looking at a stained-glass window. Kyle greeted her and then showed her into the vestry.

"Thank you for your note," he said. "It sounds like you're holding me to ransom: 'Dear Vicar, Give me a thousand pounds and I will give you what you want, Love Saskia.' What do you mean by this, exactly? Did your mother tell you to write this?"

Saskia grinned. "No, mum just said I needed to speak to you. The note means just what it says. Give me the money and I'll give you the goods. Easy enough."

"That's it, is it? As simple as that? And what if I give you the money and then you disappear? Climb out of the window or something?" He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on her firm, round breasts.

Saskia giggled. "Look, I'm not going to eff you about. Give me the money and that will be that. You can trust me, vicar."

He frowned. "I highly doubt that."

"Well, OK. But what have you got to lose, really?"

"A grand of my money."

"I don't believe any of it is your money. You don't get paid that much. Vicars don't earn hardly anything. Look, give me the cash now, and we can go back to my place and you can get what you want." She turned away from him slowly as she was speaking and raised her skirt a little to give him a brief glimpse of her buttocks.

Kyle snorted, then sighed. "Oh, OK. I give in. You can have the cash. But if you fuck off again before I'm finished with you, I will strangle you."

Saskia laughed at the casual threat. "I don't doubt it, but I'm not going anywhere." She looked at him, her big eyes blinking. "I actually quite fancy you. You're quite cute, in a fat, hairy kind of way. Like a big, angry teddy bear or a hairy goat. Just don't fart in my mouth this time." She smiled sweetly at him.

"Come on. I'll get the money then we'll go to the car. Do me a favour, though. There is a man out there, a man with big glasses, his name is Alan. Go and tell him that your grandmother is sick and she has asked for me to go and pray with her. Tell him it is very urgent and I won't be able to speak to him today. Get rid of him and I'll give you the money."

Saskia winked at the vicar then went back out of the vestry to find Alan, the treasurer. Kyle took off his stole and surplice, then went through the door at the back of the vestry into the church office. He opened the big, iron safe that contained the church's best silverware and a stash of money harvested from the donations of the flock. He counted out one thousand pounds in notes and stuffed them into his trouser pocket. He went back into the vestry, opened the drawer of the desk and took out a bottle of Pernod and poured a large measure into a coffee mug.

He was leant against the desk, sipping his drink when Saskia came back into the vestry.

"He's gone. He didn't seem too pleased, though. He said he will call you tomorrow. He didn't even ask me how my fake grandmother was doing!"

"That's OK, I can deal with him later. Now, shall we get down to business? Rather than going to yours lets go to the vicarage, it's just up the road."

"What would the neighbours say if they saw a little tart like me going with you into the vicarage? Especially when you are supposed to be visiting my poor dying fictional grandmother."

"OK, fair point. Come on, we can take my car."

"No, let's walk. It will be more romantic."

Kyle brought the bottle or Pernod with him and drank it on the way to Saskia's house, across the park and along the canal towpath. They stopped at a corner shop and Kyle sent Saskia inside to buy super-strength lager and cigarettes. She bought a bottle of Coke for herself as well. It was a twenty-five-minute walk from St Lucy's to Saskia's house. Kyle finished the Pernod and two cans of lager on the way. He threw the empty bottle in the canal and watched as it sank in the brown water in a plume of bubbles.

As they walked together, Kyle asked Saskia about her family.

"My dad's dead, he died of a heroin overdose when I was little. My half-brother Callum and my auntie Karen are my only other family."

"Does Callum live at home with you?"

"He does sometimes. He comes and goes. He's just got out of prison after doing eighteen months for assault."

"Assault?" Kyle asked, opening his second can of lager.

"He beat some guy up for looking at his girlfriend's tits in the pub. She is a real slag though and she has massive boobs, so guys are staring at her all the time. Callum gets crazy with jealousy, though, and he had been drinking all day, it was during the World Cup. He just snapped and beat the shit out of this guy. He beat him so bad they had to wire his jaw."

"Wow, your brother sounds pretty tough." Kyle took a gulp of beer.

"You don't know the half of it. He can be a real psycho. His dad was too. His dad is doing life for murder, he killed a policeman, he's not likely to ever get out. I've never met him, he writes to mum sometimes but she hates him. And Callum's great-granddad was hanged for murder. They're a bad lot."

"My goodness! Does he get on OK with you?" Kyle suddenly felt very nervous.

"Not too bad. He is my brother after all. But he gets jealous about me as well. He used to threaten my boyfriends when I was at school, tell them they had to leave me alone or he would beat them up. He's always been a bit of an arsehole like that. I have to remind him that I'm his half-sister not his girlfriend, sometimes. But he's OK really. He has a sweet side, it's just very well hidden."

When they reached the front door of Saskia's house, she bent down and retrieved a door key from under a flowerpot that was next to the front door. Kyle instinctively tried to look up her skirt, but she straightened up quickly, giggling at him. She paused before putting the key into the lock. "Before we go any further, I want the money, mister. One thousand pounds and then you can have my brown cherry. Deal?"

"I'll give you the money afterwards."

"No, no." Saskia held up her hand and looked to one side. "You might be able to fool my mum like that but I'm not as stupid as her. Money first. That's how we will do it."

"I don't trust you." He stared at her.

"What if I don't trust you either, though?" She grinned a wicked grin at him.

"So, it's a stalemate." He held up his hands in a half-hearted shrug.

"You can always walk away." Saskia bent over to pluck a dandelion that was growing from a crack in the garden pathway. Her skirt rode up and Kyle caught another tantalising glimpse of the fold in her flesh where her thighs became her buttocks. He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out a wadge of notes.

"Here, take it," he snapped, handing the cash to Saskia. Her eyes lit up and she quickly snatched the money from him. "Count it, it's all there."

"Oh, no need for that," she cooed, staring at the bundle of money. "I'm sure I can trust a man like you, Kyle."

She opened the door with the key she had taken from under the flowerpot and went inside. Kyle followed her. She disappeared into the kitchen and hid the money in the breadbin.

Kyle walked into the kitchen behind her and pinched her on the behind. She squealed and giggled, then turned around and hugged him. He kissed her on the lips and then on the throat, the big man bending down to kiss the short girl. He put his hands behind her and ran them down her back until they were squeezing her bum-cheeks.

She giggled again. "Don't get too carried away just yet, we're not going to do it in the kitchen."

"Where do you want to do it?"

"Upstairs, in bed. Like a normal person."

"I've never thought of you as normal. You are quite extraordinary, Saskia."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Come on, let's go upstairs, I'm not doing it down here, my mum might come home and catch us. It's bad enough that you want to do me up the fudge-tunnel at all, without my mum seeing it happen."

"I've done her up the arse, you know."

"Dirty devil! How was she?"

"Good. She was nice."

"Oh wow, talk about damning someone with faint praise. That is my mum you're talking about, you know."

Kyle laughed. "And I've done your aunt up the arse as well."

"Really? Aunt Karen? I didn't think she would like that."

"I don't think she did to start with. She used to come to my church, and when she was short of cash, I made her sell her bum to me."

"Come on, let's go and do this. You know, I've had such an itchy arsehole all day, it might be quite nice to have something hard rammed up it, it might stop it from itching."

Kyle followed her up the stairs, looking up her skirt at her pert bottom.

"Are you going to be gentle with me? I'm a virgin you know."

"You're not a virgin," chortled Kyle.

"Not in the pussy, but I am in the bum. So you must be gentle with it."

"I'm not going to be gentle, but you'll enjoy it, don't worry."

They went upstairs together to Saskia's bedroom. The room was incredibly untidy. The floor was strewn with worn clothes and damp towels. Empty drinks cans, dirty crockery and empty food containers covered every surface. The unmade bed had more clothes piled at one end of it. The cupboard door hung open.

Saskia led on her front on the bed and Kyle sat down next to her. He lifted her skirt up over her back, revealing her pale, rounded bum-cheeks.

"Kiss it," she told him, and he did, kissing both cheeks in turn. While he was doing so, she farted in his face and giggled at him. It was a gentle puff of rancid gas. When she smelt her own fart, she laughed even louder. "Oh my days, that smells so bad!"

"It is rather fragrant. What did you eat to make it so smelly?"

"I had fried chicken last night. Maybe that's it?"

He pulled her cheeks apart to look at the hole the fart had come out of, a cute little puckered anus, the hole he was so keen to fuck. He sucked his index finger to get some spit on it, then pushed it into Saskia's bum-hole. She gasped when she felt his digit intruding into her. Her arsehole felt tight, he stirred his finger around inside of her, making her anus relax and become a little looser.

"There, you're loosening up now. It's still going to be a tight squeeze to get my dick in there."

"Is it going to hurt when you fuck me?"

"Probably, yes."

"You're not going to tear my asshole are you?"

"Maybe."

He pushed his finger further into her and felt something hard inside of her arse. A turd!

"I think you need to have a pooh. That's why it smelt so bad when you farted."

They got up off of the bed and went into the bathroom together. Saskia sat on the toilet, there was a tinkling sound as she peed a little, and then she started to grunt quietly as she strained to force out a shit. Kyle, stood in front of her, unzipped his flies and pulled out his prick, which was proudly standing to attention. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed his erection towards her face. She willingly opened her mouth and guided his man-meat into it with her hand. He tasted salty and she could feel his helmet throbbing against her tongue. Kyle gasped as he felt her suck it.

While she was enjoying the feeling of having a nice stiff dick in her mouth, she continued to strain and felt her bowels open up and a large, solid turd push out of her arsehole. Saskia moaned loudly with satisfaction as she felt the pooh exiting her body. The turd plopped into the toilet bowl and the room was quickly filled with the stench of her shit.

She took his cock out of her mouth and rubbed it with her hand while looking up at him. "That felt so good," she sighed.

"What, sucking my dick, or taking a shit?"

"Both!"

"Let me see it."

Saskia stood up and they looked in the toilet bowl together.

"Look at the size of it!" she said proudly.