Young Cunts Act 01

"Good, Johnny?" mumbled Rosie through her mouthful of cock, to which John replied with an affirmatory moan of pleasure -- suddenly and unexpectedly interrupted by a large crash and the sound of a commotion from the street outside.

"Oh no, not again," groaned Rosie, as John leapt up and limped towards the front window of their bedroom, his stiff, pink-coated black cock waggling awkwardly before him as he carefully peeled back a small section of the curtain to peek out onto the road below.

"Undesirables out!" came the cry of a small band of drunken louts who were staggering up the road, randomly chucking bricks at dustbins as they went. "Send 'em back where they came from!"

"John, get back from the window!" hissed Rosie. "Don't be seen!" But she was distracted too, as a mewling scream had begun from the room next door. "Oh, Robbie!" she sighed, as she too leapt up and tiptoed naked out of the room, her breasts tingling. "Back in a minute!"

"Re-join the EU!" came another drunken shout from outside the window, as John pulled the curtain tightly shut. His penis was completely flaccid now, the pink condom shrivelled awkwardly around it. "Harry for King!"

"Oh God..." moaned John, sitting desultorily down on the edge of the bed, shaking his head in despair. He picked up a broadsheet newspaper lying on the nightstand, and read:

The recent tragic death of our King and Queen and their three children -- the unexplained circumstances of which merely add to the pain and horror felt by the whole nation -- has exposed deep fissures in British society which threaten consequences few of us can predict or imagine. The European Union has, for understandable reasons, in the face of recent wars, economic decline, and the rise of foreign powers, sought to counter growing right-wing sentiment by promoting its "liberalism", permitting and encouraging an attitude to sexuality which, even to the woke warriors of five years ago, would have seemed inconceivable. The various European parties of the so-called "New Enlightenment" movement (particularly the Parti des Lumières in France and the Aufklärungspartei in Germany) have agitated successfully to embrace pornography, polyamory, public exhibitionism, and "free sex" in all its forms -- conveniently making use of the recent successful development of "Flexible Fertility" and "Genetic Modification" technologies in the laboratories of Switzerland and Slovenia. Will Britain, so traumatised by our own recent events, follow in Europe's footsteps? Will we -- as our new King and Queen, just returned from California, have hinted we should -- embrace this new brand of wokisme, perhaps even by re-joining the EU? Or do we -- perhaps hidebound by our traditional moral conservatism -- feel that we need to hold out against this massive cultural shift?

"Shit!" cursed John.

"Don't worry, darling," crooned Rosie as she re-entered the room, wiping a drop of breast milk off her right nipple. "He just wanted a little cuddle and a drink."

"I'm not worried aboutthat!" groaned John. "But what about his future? Our great-grandparents came to this country seeking a better life. Will there be any life for our son here now, the way things are going? Just listen to this:

It is not just the reactionaries who are concerned. Representatives of various religious and ethnic minority groups in particular are worried that hand-in-hand with this newly-invigorated militant sexual liberalism walks a renascent racism and intolerance, directed against members of those communities which have ties outside the European bubble, where the virtues of the "Enlightenment" are not so obvious and all this devotion to pure Pleasure seems like little more than a self-indulgent attempt to excuse our own social and moral failings. Easy solutions, easy scapegoats...

"See? Mark my words, we'll be back in Europe soon -- and there they're already doing this 'Enlightenment' thing -- which basically means everyone is expected to screw around as much as they like, without any sense of commitment or fidelity! And they're wanting to expel anybody who objects, or anyone different -- different religion, different race: 'Undesirables' they've started to call us. This 'Enlightenment' shit will be the death of me!" John ripped the shrivelled condom off his penis and hurled it angrily at the wall. It stuck there briefly, before peeling off and dropping onto the carpet.

"Oh, love, love, come, don't get like that," said Rosie, wrapping her arms around her husband's body, her damp breasts squashing against his chest. "At least we aren't at war anymore. And that's why we decided no more kids for now -- until we know better what's going on. And if we have to -- well, there's your family in St Martin, and mine in South Africa. And Father Ambrose will help us out. So come, love, let's forget all that for a while; make me feel good now, hey?" Rosie pressed her cheek up against John's, where it felt warm and clement. And John turned and kissed Rosie on the lips. And they smiled, and nodded.

Rosie twisted round and extracted a new pink condom from the nightstand...

"Ladies and gentlemen, cunts and cocks," announced Dr Dick from the stage of the Sasha Grey Auditorium, "I hope you have enjoyed your lunch. I am so sorry to hear that there were no desserts available for fucking. The kitchen staff only informed me of this at the last-minute. But I have been assured by several of you that theboeuf bourguignon fucked well -- quite apart from being delicious!

"Now, we have time for a few more questions from the floor for Professor Cuntslicker, before we proceed to today's grand finale -- and I see there is a gentleman in the back row who has had his hand up for a long time. Fuck a bitch, Sir, would you like to introduce yourself first?"

"Edward Turner, originally from Henley-on-Thames, but now residing in the 'Outside World'," said the questioner, a small man with a hooked nose and light grey hair, dressed, unusually, in an old-fashioned grey three-piece suit. A small ruffle of disquiet passed through the audience at the mention of the "Outside World" -- and Riley blenched suddenly, choking briefly on the buttplug in her mouth, before forcibly regaining her professional composure. Mr Turner had an unusual accent: it sounded rather old-fashioned and English, though perhaps with an admixture of something reminiscent of southern Africa. Riley frowned.

"Professor," Mr Turner began, "before lunch, you answered a question about the mistreatment of so-called 'Undesirable' races under the Enlightenment. But you have not justified what you call 'purification of the mind' -- a remedy which has been brutally unleashed upon people of all backgrounds, often merely for holding unfashionable views. You have said that this 'takes time and persuasion' -- but neglect to admit that such 'persuasion' can involve a great deal of cruelty. I fled this Continent in the early '30s, leaving behind people I loved..." At the mention of the word "love", another wave of tutting and despondent shaking of heads passed through the audience, though Cunts maintained a relaxed air and a courteous smile. "My contention is that the atmosphere in those days, as the Enlightenment tightened its grip on society, was toxic. Families were split apart, friends and relatives informed on each other, and those who did not immediately embrace the new values were shunned and mistreated by society at large. Was it really worth it?"

There was a palpable air of tension in the hall as Mr Turner ended his question. Riley wiped a glob of saliva off her chin, her frown etching itself deeper and deeper on her young brow, her jaw trembling.

"Mister Turner," Cunts smiled, "you ask a very important question -- and one which must not be silenced. You have heard the shock which accompanied your use of that long-proscribed 'L-word' -- but let us face it head on: what actually was that thing which we used to call 'love'? What were the 'family values' which people held so dear? Were they real, or just -- as I maintain -- a handy way to oppress people? Let me start by telling you a bit about my youth..."

"FUCK YOU, MUM!" screamed Emma Jane. "DON'T YOU FUCKING TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO! I'LL FUCK WHO I WANT TO FUCK, WHEN I WANT TO, HOW I WANT TO! AND IF YOU DON'T LIKE THAT, THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY LIFE!!!"

Emma Jane slammed down her phone. "FUCK!" she screeched, one last time. "Who do they fucking think they are?!" she continued to vent. "I don't need their fucking help! I don't need their fucking advice! And sure as shit I don't need their fucking moralistic attitude!" She put on an exaggeratedly maternal tone: "'Emma Jane, don't you think you should be a bit more careful? I just don't want you to get hurt, my love.' Love?! What the fuck do they know about 'love'? They've never loved me! And what the fuck is 'love' anyway? It's just an excuse to control people, to imprison people: that's all they want to do -- keep me under their fucking thumb, so I can't embarrass them anymore! Well, guess what? Emma Jane's all grown up now, she's shaved her cunt, she's pierced her clit, she's got herself a tit-job, and she's gonna fuck and fuck and fuck all she fucking likes -- 'cause that's what it's all about! Pleasure! Pure fucking pleasure! RIGHT?!"

Hildegard sat in the chair opposite and smiled. "Right, Emma Jane," she nodded with calm satisfaction.

Emma Jane was naked, the tits of which she was so proud protruding boldly from her chest, the recent surgery scars still visible in the creases beneath her breasts. Her pussy was indeed shaven, the clit pierced with a single plain ring which reflected the light from the one standard lamp in the corner. Her hair was long and dark, and framed a dignified eighteen-year-old face with broad high cheek-bones and dark sultry eyes.

Hildegard was not naked. Slightly older than Emma Jane, she was a tall, strongly built blonde with a square jaw, full red lips, and huge natural breasts bulging behind a black leather basque. Her right hand grasped a small riding crop, which she extended so as to gently stroke the undersides of Emma Jane's tits.

"Oh yes, stroke my scars, Hildy," muttered Emma Jane, cupping her breasts in her hands, lifting them up so that Hildegard's crop could reach under them better. "That's so fucking good."

"Of course it is," crooned Hildegard, running the tress of the crop along the length of each of Emma Jane's scars in turn: that's because you're a needy fuckslut. Proper whores like me don't need to get tit-jobs, because we are content with our slut-bodies as they are. It's pathetic damaged shame-ridden bitches like you that need the training, the buttressing, the constant reassurance -- isn't that right?" Hildegard smiled wickedly.

An exquisite shiver of humiliation-ecstasy passed through Emma Jane's body. "Oh God!" she moaned, revelling in the feeling of the leather tress stroking the underside of her breasts. "Please, Hildy, reassure me, buttress me, train me -- I need that so bad..."

Hildegard chuckled, shuffling forward off her chair to kneel up in front of Emma Jane so that her lips could gently brush against her tits. Hildegard liked this girl: her first female English fuckbuddy since arriving at Cambridge a fortnight ago. Emma Jane may have been middle-class, but she was as needy and lost as any other English fuckslut -- and in her experience such girls were always the best: they asked for a lot, but they put up with a lot. And, Hildegard hardly needed remind herself, they were just as dispensable as anyone else.

Hildegard opened her mouth wide so as to engulf as much as she could of Emma Jane's very large right tit. She smirked to herself, feeling the unnaturally firm texture beneath her tongue, so different from her own jiggly specimens. But, however fake her breasts might be, Emma Jane's sexual desperation was real, and boiling over. "Oh God, Hildy," she squealed. "Suck my tits, baby, suck my big fake shame-ridden tits!"

Hildegard sucked and slobbered, transferring her lips and tongue back and forth from one luscious melon to the other, till Emma Jane's silicone-stuffed pillows became sloppy dripping mounds, and spit dribbled down her abdomen. Hildegard's left hand scooped up some of the saliva and plastered it on Emma Jane's vulva, rubbing it with four fingers in a circular motion till Emma Jane squealed, "Oh God, Hildy, my cunt, my cunt, get your strapon and fuck my pathetic cunt -- please!"

"Gladly, Emma Jane -- but what do I get by way of payment?" smirked Hildegard.

"Oh God, Hildy, anything: I need you so bad. What shall I do for you?"

Hildegard smiled -- a combination sort of smile, part genuinely affectionate, part self-congratulatory. "Come and lick my pussy first then, Emma Jane, there's a good girl," said Hildegard, returning to the sofa and spreading her legs wide so her bald meaty cunt glistened and her fuck-lips spread wide. "Earn your humiliation: it'll make you feel better."

Soon Emma Jane was nuzzling Hildegard's crotch, moaning with pleasure as the heady scent filled her nostrils. "That's it, my beautiful fuckwhore," crooned Hildegard, "eat it up, lap it up, lick that cunt like the damaged bitch you are..." She giggled wickedly.

"Oh, God, Hildy," moaned Emma Jane from between her fuckbuddy's thighs, feeling her own pussy juice up and a tremor of pleasure pass through her body at the sound of her partner's invective. "I love it when you call me things like that."

"Like what, Emma Jane?" Hildegard teased. "What sort of things do you like to be called?"

"Tell me I'm a whore, Hildy," muttered Emma Jane, as her tongue lapped and burrowed even deeper into Hildy's fuckhole. "Tell me I'm a filthy cunt-eating whore..."

"That you are, Emma Jane. A dirty, skanky, worthless fucking cunt-whore!"

"Oh yeah fuuuck!" cried Emma Jane in delight, as her fingers found her own clit and began to rub frantically. "Call me all those things, Hildy, they make me so fucking horny!"

"Cunt-slut!" sneered Hildegard.

"Oh yesss!" responded Emma Jane in mindfucked ecstasy.

"Fuck-bitch!"

"Fuck yeah!!" Emma Jane now had three fingers deep in her own cunt, scooping up fuck-nectar and smearing it over her vulva.

"Filthy motherfucking cunt-licking whore!" screamed Hildegard. "Go on, bitch, eat my cunt like the worthless needy fuckslut you are!"

"Yeah FUUUCK!!!" squealed Emma Jane, as her hand became a blur between her legs, and she felt the wild waves of orgasm begin to sweep over her. She buried her face in Hildegard's wet gash, licking, chewing and screaming into her pungent folds, "YEAH FUuuck-mfuuuck-mfuckfuckfuck...." as she felt her whole world fill with cunt, taste of cunt, stink of cunt. Her face, her fingers, her hair -- everything was cunt, Hildegard was cunt, the world was cunt, cunt, nothing but cunt...

"Oh yeah, cunt, so fucking good..." mumbled Emma Jane, as she came slowly down from her ecstasy, her face still buried in her fuckbuddy's juicy dribbling gash. "Fuuuuck..."

"Emma Jane Paton," grinned Hildegard, her fingers gently pulling her friend's hair backwards and upwards, so that her glistening face looked upwards at hers, "I dub thee... Emma Jane 'the Cuntslicker'."

Emma Jane laughed, partly in embarrassment but partly with joy and self-affirmation. "Ha ha! Shall I change my name? 'Emma Jane Cuntslicker' -- that'll give my mum a heart-attack."

"Well, we said we were going to found a UK branch of the Fuckers Party, didn't we? I can't think of a better name for the Secretary of a political party, can you? And I, as the Treasurer, shall change my name to Hildegard... um... 'Fotzenficker' -- what about it?"

"Ha ha -- you mad bitch! Come over here from Europe with all your crazy fucking ideas -- the British will never buy it. We're not like you!"

"Well then, let's change all that, 'Cuntslicker'! We announce the foundation of the UK Fuckers Party. We start with some public fuck-ins to pull in the crowds. Then, once everyone's high on cum and cunt-juice, we rope them all into our political programme: a free-fucking society, MM for all on the NHS so everyone can have big dicks and huge tits and gaping assholes: GMin vitro; and then we rejoin the EU so the UK can benefit from the New Enlightenment. Then we expel any Objectors -- to build the perfect society, where everyone pursues Pleasure above all else. There will be no more want, no more guilt, no more..."

"You mad fucker, Hildy!" interrupted Emma Jane. "But..." -- Emma Jane's voice softened -- "I love you, my crazy fuckbuddy." She leant forward and planted a kiss on Hildy's cunt, felt the damp fucklips smooch against her face, sniffed the gorgeous heady scent, and squealed, "Oh Jesus, that's so fucking good!"

Hildegard smiled in triumph, but wagged a damp finger at her colleague. "Hang on, Secretary Cuntslicker -- none of this 'love' bullshit, please. I don't love you, and you don't love me. If we are to reshape society, there is to be no more 'love'. Love means control, love means exploitation, love means jealousy. In a free-fucking society, we live by Pleasure -- pure pleasure; not 'love'. Is that clear, Cuntslicker?"

Emma Jane thought a moment. She was not sure, and it sounded a bit extreme; but she wanted Hildegard so much, and so she nodded. "OK,Fräulein Fotzenficker," she intoned carefully. "Just so long as I can eat yourfotze forever, and ever, and ever."

Hildegard seemed not to hear Emma Jane's last remark: her mind was elsewhere. "Miss Cuntslicker," she said.

"Yes?" replied Emma Jane.

"Want me to fuck you with my strap?"

"Ohja bitte, Fräulein Fotzenficker," nodded Emma Jane.

"And what about 'Cunts' for short?" suggested Hildegard, as she rummaged in her handbag.

"What about it?" replied Emma Jane, momentarily confused.

Hildegard retrieved a dildo from her bag: thick, black, and shiny. "You. Your name. 'Cunts'. I like that."

"Er, what? You mean, like, 'How do you do, Sir, my name is Emma Jane Paton, but you can call me "Cunts" for short'?" Hildegard nodded, grinning. "Has a certain ring to it," smirked Emma Jane. "Oh! look at that dildo: what a beauty!"

"In which case, Cunts," laughed Hildegard, "get on all fours like a good fuck-bitch --Cunts, and I'm going to give you a filthy dirty dildo-fuck like the filthy dirty needy fuckslut whore you are --Cunts!"

Emma Jane, trembling with desire, did as she was bid, lifting her ass high behind her and spreading her pussy lips wide in invitation.

"Cunts," chuckled Hildegard, with a triumphant smile, as she stepped into her dildo harness.

Another spasm of delight passed through Emma Jane's body. Her cunt dripped. And her heart melted.