Alison Goes To London: Chapter 11 - A Dirty Filthy Motherfucking Assfucking Whore free porn video
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. This is love: not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us.
It was Saturday morning, and Alison was seated on the floor in the corner of her room at Fuckers’ Hall. She frowned, as she tried to decipher the little black book she had been handed through the cat-flap in the green door on Tottenham Cunt Road. “Love… love… love…” – it was like listening to an amateur trying to do dirty talk: “Fuck… fuck… fuck…” But there was something deeply compelling, almost visceral about it. Just as fuck-talk always made her cunt juice up, ‘love’-talk was making her heart flutter. It seemed to conjure a world she had barely considered till now, a world beyond Pleasure. She trembled at the thought.
“What are you reading, Al?” asked Claire. She and Bradley were sitting side by side on Alison’s bed, stroking each other as usual while watching a fuck-flick. This one featured a beautiful slender blonde made up and dressed as a fuck-doll, being DPed by two men.
“Nothing, just something someone gave me,” replied Alison, secreting the Bible behind her.
“What do you mean, nothing?” said Claire, getting up and striding over. “You’ve been stealing secret glances at that book all week. Lemme see!”
“No, really, it’s nothing,” Alison remonstrated.
“Hey, Al, what’s come over you? It’s me! You used to share everything with me. Don’t shut me out: that’s not fair!” On the screen, the two men were tossing their “doll” around, lifting her bodily off the ground and spreading her legs wide to give her a standing-up DP. The camera zoomed in to an upskirt close-up of the girl’s perineum, which glistened with cunt-cream as the two cocks pounded in and out of both her orifices in alternation. Bradley was slowly stroking his cock as he watched intently, ignoring the anguished conversation from the corner – which he had heard, in a number of different variations, several times already this week.
“Doesn’t it bother you at all,” said Alison, her internal anguish suddenly breaking the surface, “that an innocent man was murdered in front of our eyes – here, in this so-called Enlightened land?!”
Claire paused. “Hey, I don’t wanna sound nasty: it a real shame and all – but, I mean, he was overage, and an Undesirable, and even though he’d been expelled, he sneaked back into the Union illegally. I mean, he must have known that if he was caught he’d be culled. Anyway, that hospice has been shut ever since, so they must be holding an investigation: if something bad happened, they’ll sort it out. Besides, what’s that got to do with that book of yours?”
“Claire, Eva loved her parents so much…”
“‘Loved’? Jesus fucking Christ, Alison, not again! Not so long ago you were telling me how awful love is!” Claire switched to doing an impression of Alison in self-righteous mode: “‘It’s ideas like ‘love’ which take the decent, free-fucking youth of our society and turn them into perverts.’ Remember saying that, Al? So what’s come over you now?”
Fear and guilt and confusion washed over Alison like a wave, and she broke down in howls of tears. “I don’t know, I don’t fucking know!” she bawled. “I can’t help myself. Nothing makes sense any more…!”
“Aw fuuuck, fuuuck, sweet cunt,” crooned Claire, kneeling down, putting her arms around Alison and kissing away the tears. On the screen, the “doll” was now hanging upside-down by her boots from the ceiling, the two men alternately fucking her face as she swung back and forth. Bradley was fapping in rapt concentration. Alison continued to sob, tears and snot running down her face, but reached behind her back and wordlessly handed Claire the book. Claire took it cautiously, and then began to read out loud:
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. This is how love is made complete among us. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear. We love because he first loved us. Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen, cannot love God, whom they have not seen. And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister…
Claire’s voice trailed off. “Oh fuck, Alison – this is disgusting, this is fucking obscene!” she said, not even attempting to disguise the repugnance in her voice. “Jesus, what is this shit? Where did you get this?”
“I’m not allowed to tell you where I got it: this book’s proscribed,” replied Alison. “But this… is the Bible – the real Bible, not the re-translated one we use in the C of E these days. This text” – her voice trembled as she said it – “is the foundation of Western civilisation, and –”
“And that’s why ‘Western civilisation’ was total shit, and why we needed the Enlightenment!” interrupted Claire. “And look at you: ‘Perfect love drives out fear’ – bullshit! All this week you’ve been crying and mewling and trembling: you’re a total fucking wreck. ‘Drives out fear’, my ass! Now, I’m gonna confiscate this from you, Alison, okay? – and you are not to look at this horseshit again – do you hear me? It’s illegal, and it’s dangerous – no wonder you’re all fucked up! What would your parents say? And you’re supposed to be a fucker, goddammit, a fucker! BRAD!”
“Wha…at?” Brad answered vaguely, still intent upon watching the “doll”, who was now taking two large loads of cum on her upside-down face as she swung helplessly back and forth between her two fuckers. Cum dribbled from her lips down into her nose, eyes and hair. “Can’t I come first?”
“Fucking no! Get your dick over here already! Alison needs some therapy.” Brad got up wearily and, still stroking his stiff glistening cock, started walking over to the two girls, as Claire turned back to Alison: “Al – repeat after me: ‘I’m a dirty, filthy, motherfucking, assfucking whore!’”
“Oh, that’s not very original, Claire,” said Alison, sniffing and wiping away her tears, “it comes from that vintage fuck-flick with what’s-her-name, Hillary something-or-other, you know – ”
“Well, as you know, Miss Assfuck Guttermouth, I’ve never been very original with my fuck-talk! So just say it, goddammit! It’ll make you feel better: ‘I’m a dirty, filthy, motherfucking, assfucking whore!’”
“I’m a dirty filthy motherfucking assfucking whore…” mumbled Alison, with little conviction, as she wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand.
“Louder!” urged Claire.
“I’m a dirty, filthy, motherfucking, assfucking whore!”
“LOUDER, CUNT!”
“I’M A DIRTY, FILTHY, MOTHERFUCKING, ASSFUCKING WHORE!”
“BETTER! NOW JERK YOURSELF OFF, AND KEEP REPEATING UNTIL YOU COME!”
Alison blew a sinusful of snot onto her hand, reached down, and smeared it over her vulva. “I’m a dirty, filthy, motherfucking, assfucking whore!” she began to repeat over and over, as she rubbed her slimy clit. “I’M A DIRTY, FILTHY, MOTHERFUCKING, ASSFUCKING WHORE!!”
“OH YEAH, AL, GO ON: RUB THAT SNOTTY FUCKING CUNT AND MAKE YOURSELF COME FOR ME!”
Alison’s customary fucker’s lust was being rekindled again. She blew more snot and spit into her hand and rubbed it over her cunt. Thoughts of love and God rapidly receded, as she continued to bellow: “I’M A DIRTY, FILTHY, MOTHERFUCKING, ASSFUCKING WHORE!!!”
Brad stood, still stroking his cock, poised between the screen and the two girls. If he looked to the right, he could watch the fetish “doll”, now released from her chains, crawling on the ground licking cum off the floor while repeating “I obey, master; I obey, master.” If he looked left he saw Alison rubbing her hot slimy cunt with the heel of her hand while Claire screamed at her: “COME ON, AL, CALL YOURSELF AN ASSFUCKING WHORE? WELL FUCKING PROVE IT! PUT THAT FUCKING FIST IN YOUR FUCKING ASS!”
“YOU WANNA SEE MY FIST IN MY SHITTER, YOU DIRTY CUNT?” Alison shouted in reply, as pure filthy lust regained its customary pre-eminence in her psyche. “WELL, FUCKING WATCH THIS!”
Alison balled her fist and rammed it mercilessly into her asshole. She almost surprised herself with the sheer filthy pleasure she felt from the hot hard squelch of her fist burying itself deep. She basked in the feeling of her fingers twisting and turning in her ass, exploring every last rectal nook and cranny, and soon she was screaming at the top of her voice: “I’M COMING! I’M FUCKING COMING! THIS MOTHERFUCKING ASSFUCKING WHORE IS FUCKING SHIT-COMING OVER HER FUCKING FIST – ‘COZ I’M A DIRTY, FILTHY, ASS-FISTING FUCKING WHORE! I’M A WHORE!! I’M A FUCKING WHORE!!!”
“FUCK YEAH, DO IT, ASS-FISTING WHORE!” screeched Claire. “BRAD! CUM ON HER FUCKING FACE! DO IT NOW!”
Bradley did as he was told. “Oh yeah, oh fuck, oh Jesus,” he muttered as he glazed Alison’s face with several well-aimed spurts of hot cum. Soon Alison was weeping again – but this time with lustful pleasure and gratitude as she mumbled, “Oh fuck, oh God – thank you Brad, thank you Claire…” Her tears mixed gently with Bradley’s cum, making little white stripes dribble down her cheeks.
It took some time for Alison’s ecstasy to subside. “Oh God, Claire,” she said, as her blond friend licked cum and tears off her face. “I’m so sorry: I know I’ve been playing with fire, reading all this God-shit. It’s just – I’m so confused. First Rob, then Eva, then Chad, then watching that man get culled in broad daylight: it just makes me almost… almost doubt the Enlightenment. I know that sounds terrible…”
“Whoa there, bitch! Just because some things go wrong in the Enlightened world doesn’t give us the right to doubt the whole thing,” Claire corrected her. You’re too much of an idealist, Al: you need to embrace the greys more. The Enlightenment works a damn sight better than anything they’ve got in the Outside World. And frankly, that ‘love’ stuff you were just reading is one huge pile of stinking horseshit. If anything doesn’t fucking work, that doesn’t. “‘If we love one another, God lives in us’? Bull-fucking-shit! What the fuck does that mean anyway?”
“I know, I know, I don’t know… I’m just… I’m just confused, that’s all, baby…”
“Well, we’re gonna un-confuse you. First – BRAD, QUIT JERKING OFF ALL THE TIME AND GET YOUR FUCKING DICK OVER HERE!” Brad had returned quietly to the bed, and had just pressed play on a new film – entitled Lesbian Anal Gape Piss Orgy III – but now he dutifully turned it off.
“Okay, Alison,” continued Claire, “let’s go through your list. Number one: Rob – well, he’s gone, and good fucking riddance, I say. Number two: Chad – we can’t stop him being a fucking dickhead, but he’s not reappeared at the Academy ever since he hit you at the Princess Asshole place. I mean, attacking a fellow student like that, what the fuck? And he’s not gonna say sorry like Eva did to you, so I reckon they’re gonna kick him out. So that just leaves number three: Eva and her dead dad – what have you heard from her?”
“Nothing. Nobody’s seen her at the Academy since Monday, and none of the others seem to have heard from her. I asked Dick-Dick: he was pretty cagey, but said she’s staying at home in her flat. Compassionate leave, until after her dad’s funeral.”
“Has she got anyone with her?”
“I don’t know. I mean, her family are all exiled now, aren’t they? And she’s not responding to any messages.”
“Hmmm…” Claire thought for a while. “Doesn’t sound good. Let’s pay her a visit. You’ve got the address, don’t you?”
“Uh yeah, it’s near Fuckney Bridge. We’d have to take the tube, Dickstrict Line – change at Earls Cunt.”
“Well, no time like the present. Come on, let’s go. Brad, stow that dick, we’re off to do some fucking bereavement counselling.”
*
An hour later, Claire, Alison and Brad were standing in front of a non-descript maisonette on a side street round the corner from Fuckney Bridge tube station. “Here we are,” said Alison, checking the address. She rang the doorbell, and then stood back to wait for an answer. Out of the corner of her eye, the thought she saw a curtain twitch in one of the upstairs windows. But there was no answer from the door. She rang again, and waited.
Claire called through the letterbox: “Eva, it’s us! We know you’re in there. Come on, let us in. We’re worried about you.” There was silence.
“Hey, bestest ebony whore,” Claire tried again, “we’ve even brought Dinky-Dick with us so he can splatter your pretty face with cum.” There was no answer.
“Let me try,” said Alison. She put her mouth to the letter-box and called:
Love is patient, love is kind.
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
“Mind your language!” muttered a passing pedestrian. “Fucking cunt…”
Alison stuck her middle finger up at him, and continued:
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
There was a pause, before Alison heard soft footsteps from inside. “At last!” she sighed. The door creaked slowly open – but it was not Eva after all, but Harriet, topless, with a packet of cigarettes stuck into the elastic of her pink bikini bottom.
“Harriet!” exclaimed Alison.
“What the fuck?” said Claire.
“Come in, guys,” said Harriet with a knowing smile. “We guessed you’d turn up eventually!” She led them down a short narrow corridor towards the living room. As Alison approached the entrance to the lounge, the first thing she saw was Eva kneeling on the floor, gently sucking the cock of someone relaxing on an armchair.
It took a split second for Alison to realise that she recognised that cock from somewhere: it was jet-black, stiff as a rod, some eight inches tall – and beautiful, oh so beautiful – more beautiful than any other cock she had ever seen. “No fucking way,” she thought. “It can’t be!”
But it was. As she turned the corner, her eyes travelled upwards from the cock, up the bare black chest, to that familiar twinkling face.
“Suck my cock,” said Rob, smiling at Alison. “Coffee?”
“WHAT THE FUCK?!!!” Alison screamed.
“YOU?!” screamed Claire.
“ROB – WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!!!” Alison shouted. Furious and humiliated, questions flooded her brain. What was he doing here? Hadn’t he left the country? Or had everyone lied to her about it? Had Eva lied to her, whilst Rob was all along holed up in her flat? And what about Harriet? Had she known about this all along? Why had Eva not replied to any of her messages – but clearly invited Harriet to see her? And what did this have to do with the old man shot in front of their eyes in the hospice? “WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK?!!!” she screamed.
Underneath her rage, however, a small part of Alison – so small she was barely aware of it – was relieved. She had gone through a lot of trauma since that dreadful night when Rob had re-appeared in her room – and his declaration of love now seemed, frankly, a minor part of it. She wasn’t as angry at him, or as hurt: somehow, nothing seemed quite so black-and-white any more. Her cherished identity as a fucker, of which her parents were so proud, and the Enlightenment ideals which she had always so valued, now seemed more precarious than she would ever have believed possible. The way Rob had treated her that night three weeks ago was perhaps not so utterly despicable; the man was misguided, to be sure – but she might just be able to forgive him for it… now that he was here. A small part of her smiled inwardly at the thought.
First, though, explanations were needed – and Rob and Eva seemed to realise that they had to provide them. Eva released her big brother’s dickhead from her mouth with a loud “pop”, leaving it bobbing, rigid and vertical. “I’m sorry, Alison, for not telling you sooner,” she said, standing up to give Alison a tender wet pre-cum-scented kiss on the lips. “As soon as he heard about Daddy being shot, Rob came back, out of concern for me. I didn’t tell you, not because I didn’t trust you, but because I was worried that if your parents found out, they might want to press charges against him. That’s why Harriet knew and not you, you see…” She squeezed Alison’s breasts affectionately.
Harriet nodded in confirmation, lighting a cigarette as she sat down on the sofa at the other end of the room. Bradley followed and sat down next to her, admiring her bare tits as they heaved up and down. Eva knelt down again to gently stroke her brother’s cock, massaging pre-cum and saliva into the pulsating purple-brown dickhead. Alison and Claire stayed standing in the doorway: Claire had her hands on her hips, her head shaking with exasperation and bewilderment, her mouth opening and shutting as she searched for words to express her indignation. “Okay, so what the fuck was your dad doing here anyway?” she demanded impatiently. “And, Rob, aren’t you worried the same might happen to you if the authorities find out you’re here?” Rob’s cock twitched slightly under his sister’s caresses.
“No,” said Rob, “unless Alison tells her parents and they press charges. I’m an Undesirable, but not an illegal per se, because I’m sterilised and underage. And, with Professor Dick’s help, I have secured permission to take my father’s body – the funeral is tomorrow – back home to my mother. I’m hoping, Alison, that you won’t tell your parents, or that if you do they may have calmed down by now: I’m not going to stay here long – just until Monday, when Eva will go back to the Academy. I have to go back to my mother, who is a widow now.” There was a look of despair on Rob’s face, the glimmer in his eyes dimmed, and his cock started to go ever so slightly less than fully rigid. Eva bent down to give it an affectionate suck, and it stiffened up again. Briefly, Alison’s eyes were drawn again to its dark masculine beauty, and she remembered the first time she had set eyes on it – on the Whiteshit Express some five weeks previous; her pussy tingled ever so slightly. Harriet was smoking in silence, and Bradley had got his cock out and was gently stroking it as he watched her tits rise and fall.
“My father made a terrible mistake,” continued Rob. He heard how badly Eva had gone off the rails when she attacked you, and came to comfort her. He loved her very much…” Rob’s voice cracked slightly and his eyes glistened. Claire turned away, grimacing and muttering self-righteously under her breath, “fucking ‘love’ again – Jesus…!” Mention of her father’s love was too much for Eva too, and she began to choke up, tears flowing down her cheeks, and thence down Rob’s thick shaft onto his balls.
“But he was unsterilised and overage,” continued Rob, tenderly wiping the tears from Eva’s eyes, “illegal on two counts. The day he was caught he was actually on his way out of the country again – but he was arrested at the docks and, because he was black, sent straight to hospice. A white man would at least have had a trial…” Rob’s voice turned briefly bitter, and in his evident anger he began to stand up – briefly gagging his tearful sister with his cock.
“Can’t you call for an investigation?” asked Alison. “Surely hospices shouldn’t be culling anyone without a court order anyway!”
“Ha!” scoffed Rob, as Eva pushed him back onto the sofa and sank her mouth right down over his shaft, lodging his cock-head deep into her throat. “Oh fuck, that’s good, sis…” muttered Rob.
“I ‘ow how to ma’e you ‘eel be’er, ‘on’t I?” glubbed Eva, squeezing Rob’s dickhead with the inner walls of her throat. She pulled slowly back off again, letting a long rope of throat-slime dangle from her mouth, and rubbing it into Rob’s cock. Bradley was now gently massaging Harriet’s huge tits with one hand while stroking his cock with the other, as she amused herself blowing smoke rings toward the ceiling. “Alison,” said Eva, tears leaking from her eyes and spit swinging from her chin, “nobody in this Union investigates the death of a black man – least of all an illegal black man. 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.”
“Yeah, and I guess I used to think that was okay…” said Alison regretfully. “Remember what I said to you on the train, Rob?”
“I remember everything you said to me on that train, Alison.” Rob paused, as if he wanted to say more – but held himself back. Claire raised an eyebrow and snarled suspiciously. Bradley was now leaning over Harriet, gently sucking her tits while stroking his cock. Harriet was smoking with luxuriant elegance, snap-inhaling huge churning balls of white smoke into her open mouth, before directing perfectly-shaped cones up and over Bradley’s head. Each inhale, Alison thought briefly, looked like she was swallowing a large mouthful of cum: no wonder Bradley liked watching her…
“That hospice has been closed down, though,” interjected Claire, attempting to soften her attitude and interject a grain of hope into the conversation.
“It’ll open again soon,” scoffed Eva, “after the spotlight has been taken off it. And with Chad Halloway as Deputy Chief Fucker, if I know rightly!” she smirked bitterly, as she stroked her brother’s spit-slimy cock with one hand.
“Chad?!” exclaimed Alison and Claire.
“Didn’t you see how Hildegard was eyeing him up? She wanted him for her own, to join her troupe of heartless, big-dicked fucker-executioners. He’d be perfectly suited to the job, I think.” Eva spat the words out with such bile that even Harriet paused her smoking to look at her.
“Did he really hurt you, Eva?” asked Alison. Eva stopped stroking Rob’s shaft, clearly thinking how to respond. The only sound came from the sofa at the other end of the room, where Bradley was now slurping noisily at Harriet’s cunt. Harriet dangled her cigarette between her lips, so she could knead her own breasts with both hands as she smoked, inhaling deeply and letting smoke cascade out of her nostrils and down onto her tits. She moaned quietly, muttering the occasional “fuck yeah” under her breath, which made her cigarette jiggle up and down between her lips.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” said Eva carefully, “not after what they did to my dad.” She looked into Alison’s eyes with steely clarity, then went back to slowly edging her brother’s cock. The sound of slurping continued to emanate from the interface between Bradley’s mouth and Harriet’s cunt.
“Will you come to the funeral?” asked Rob. “It’s tomorrow afternoon.”
“Where?”
“38B Tottenham Cunt Road. Knock twice – oh fuck…” he added, as Eva teased his frenulum with quick gentle flicks of her tongue.
“What? The place with the green door?”
“You know it?”
“Uh, well…” Alison looked sheepishly at Claire, “I got a book there…” Claire looked wide-eyed at Alison, her mouth gaping in shock. Alison tried to pre-empt Claire’s inevitable scolding by hurriedly asking, “What is the place, actually?”
“Well, it’s where the few remaining ‘old believers’ hang out – those who follow the old religion, you know, which existed in Europe until the Enlightenment and the establishment of the C of E. The priest is called Father Ambrose Deconceicao.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” interrupted Claire. “You aren’t one of those ‘religion’ people, are you – you know, like ‘God is love’ and all that bullshit? I thought you were just an Undesirable ‘love’-pervert, but now it turns out you’re a religious perv as well – Jesus fucking Christ! Count me out of this! Come on, Al, let’s get outta here…” Claire pulled at Alison’s sleeve, in a vain attempt to get her to walk out. Eva smiled knowingly, her tongue gently tracing circles around Rob’s cock-head.
“Wait a moment, Claire,” said Alison, holding her palm up to halt her friend’s tirade. “Yeah, I’ll come to the funeral,” she continued quietly to Rob. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be careful,” she said to Claire, who was turning apoplectic with righteous indignation. “What about you, Harriet?”
Harriet, Bradley’s face still buried in her cunt, clamped her dwindling cigarette butt between her lips, closed one eye to protect herself from the smoke wisping from the end, and extracted a new cigarette from the packet in her bikini bottom. “Can I fuck?” she asked.
“Sorry, Harriet, no, it isn’t that kind of funeral,” replied Rob kindly.
“Can I smoke?” she said, lighting her new cigarette with the butt from her mouth and inhaling deeply.
“Best not.”
“Can I jerk off while fuck-speaking in tongues?” she asked, smoke sputtering from her mouth as she spoke.
Claire, by now incandescent with rage, did not wait to hear Rob’s answer: “Rob, this must be totally fucking illegal! Why weren’t all you fucking God-is-love freaks expelled years ago? How can you have a church service where you can’t fuck? And what kind of fucking hypocrite are you, anyway? You go to a secret illegal church where you can’t even jerk off, where you talk about ‘God is love’ and all that shit – and then you come home and get your sister to suck your dick off!” Eva’s smile remained inscrutable, as she slowly sucked Rob’s balls into her mouth one by one, popped them out, and then began to lick his perineum while his huge hard dick bobbed gently above her head. Bradley stood up, proffering his stiff cock to Harriet, who began to suck it deep into her mouth, smoke pouring from her nostrils.
Alison hesitated, torn between Claire’s anguished pleas and Rob’s calm, credible persuasiveness. “Claire,” she said, “please trust me: I’m not going to do anything stupid – cunty-promise, okay? I’m a fucker, remember? It’s just, Eva and Rob need our support. They’ve had a real shock.” She added, with some levity: “Why don’t you come with me tomorrow – that way you can keep an eye on me and stop me going off the rails? What about it?”
Claire paused and breathed deeply. Painfully, she said, “Okay, okay, Al. For you. And for Eva.” She scowled pointedly at Rob. “Tomorrow.”
“Oh, thank you, baby,” replied Alison, giving Claire’s lips a gentle kiss. There was a long pause – the only sound being the slurping from Harriet’s smoky blowjob, and the “pop” of Rob’s dick as Eva released it again from her mouth.
“Thank you, Alison,” said Eva. “Thank you, Claire. That’s really kind of you. Hey, can I eat your pussies –To continue reading this story you must be a member. Join for FREE here.
Alma
- 19.10.2022
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