Alison Goes to London

The story so far:

It is 2050, and Alison is a student at the Royal Academy of Fucking in London. But she is losing faith in the "Enlightenment", the ideology of Pleasure it brings with it, and her own future as a "fucker". Her friend Eva's father, a black "Undesirable", has been brutally culled by the state, and Eva's brother Rob, who is in love with Alison, is in exile. Now, even worse, her best friend Claire has admitted that she is in love with her -- a deeply tasteless, even dangerous thing to say in post-Enlightenment Europe. It seems to Alison as if her life is falling apart.

~~~~~~~~~~

Alison trudged despondently homeward-bound up Tottenham Cunt Road. She was numb, bewildered, livid. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!" she screamed. There was no reaction from any passers-by, for whom the word, in Enlightened Europe of the twenty-first century, was mere background noise. "WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, CLAIRE?" Alison shouted into the middle-distance. "WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HAVE TO FUCKING..." -- she quietened her voice now, so as not to cause public offense -- "... 'love' me? What the fuck does that mean anyway? Claire, who says that '"love" is one huge pile of stinking horseshit' -- what the fuck are you playing at now? How do I deal with

two

people who fucking 'love' me -- WHEN I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IT MEANS?" she screamed. "And, oh God, how can I ever tell Mommy and Daddy about this?!"

Indignant and traumatised, her presumptions shattered, her worldview in tatters, her best friendship apparently ruined, Alison marched across the park towards Fuckers' Hall, kicking at flower beds and snarling at passers-by. It was late Sunday afternoon, and all the usual social and sexual activity, in which she normally delighted so, was taking place all around her. "Fucking cunts," she cursed, glancing at a couple who were quietly ass-fucking on their picnic rug on the grass, "do they have to worry about 'love'? No! They're just fucking ass! And look --" she grumbled to herself, as she passed by a pretty young lady taking her girlfriend's fist in her pussy, "do you think that bitch 'loves' her? No, she's just fucking fisting her twat -- 'coz it's fucking hot! So why's everybody suddenly fucking 'falling in love'? It's one thing for that dickhead Rob to tell me he loves me... but now even Claire -- sexy, well brought-up Claire, mega-fuckslut Claire -- is 'in love' -- in love with me?! Jesus Christ, FUCKING SHIT-BRAIN!!!"

In the distance, a group of college students were playing a circle-fucking game on the grass, as they chanted noisily:

'Ickory, dickory, dock,

This bitch was sucking my cock.

The clock struck one,

So I fucked her cunn,

'Ickory, dickory, dock.

Alison was in no mood to watch. She averted her head, and trudged on.

'Ickory, dickory, dock,

This bitch was sucking my cock.

The clock struck two,

So I dumped my goo,

'Ickory, dickory, dock.

"How naïve!" Alison thought to herself, "Foolish, inexperienced... They think fucking will make them happy -- but they don't know what the real world is like. Wait till they have to deal with 'love'..."

'Ickory, dickory, dock,

This bitch was sucking my cock.

The clock struck three,

I needed a pee,

'Ickory, dickory, dock.

"'Ey!" Alison heard a voice calling from the direction of the circle game. She ignored it steadfastly: the last thing she wanted was to talk to anyone.

'Ickory, dickory, dock,

This bitch was sucking my cock.

The clock struck four,

So I fucked the whore,

'Ickory, dickory, dock.

"Alison! Alison Bates! Lick m' pussy!" She heard the footsteps of someone running after her.

"Oh shit," Alison thought to herself, as she turned to see who was calling. It was the ass-fucking silver-blonde she had met before, her bottom half naked, a trickle of lube leaking down her thigh, wearing a silver bikini top.

"Alison, remember me?" said the girl, with an enthusiastic grin on her face. "I'm Riley -- remember? I met you last week 'ere in the park. I wanna be a fucker, like you. I love the stuff you do: you're so fuckin' amazin'!"

Alison groaned. "Oh fuck, girl, will you fucking leave me alone?! I'm not in the mood, okay?"

Riley looked disappointed, but did not give up. "But... Can ya give me some advice? You're at the RAF, aren'tcha? 'Ow do I get in there? Can ya 'elp me?"

Alison's temper cracked. "Riley, let me tell you: being a fucker is shit! Everyone at the RAF is full of shit! Being a fucker makes people vindictive and dishonest! I was attacked by a fucker! My friend's dad was killed by a fucker! Fuckers are manipulative, murderous liars! And all the gaping asshole in the world won't protect you from all that shit! And, what's more, since starting at the RAF, two people have declared 'love' to me! Do you know what that does to a girl? It fucks you up! It's fucked me up! Now it's fucking my friends up! You're far safer, and you'll be far happier, as a fucking shop assistant, or a fucking warehouse stacker, or sitting behind a fucking till in Titsco's or Shitbury's! Don't make my mistake: it's not fucking worth it! It's... IT'S FUCKING SHIT!!!" Alison could stand it no longer: she broke down in tears and ran, howling, away across the park towards Fuckers' Hall, leaving Riley, half-naked and bewildered, standing alone, lube still tricking down her thigh.

~

It was some hours before Claire returned to Fuckers' Hall. Alison was sitting at her desk, desperately trying to concentrate on

Twentieth-Century "Porn": A History, vol. I

-- but found her mind instead continuously wandering in rage and self-pity. "Fucking bitch," she repeated to herself self-righteously. She heard Claire's footsteps in the corridor, heard her turn her key in her lock, and enter her own room. A minute later, she heard her leave her room, walk slowly to Alison's door, and knock. Claire did not wait to be invited in, but quietly entered, shutting the door gently behind her. She was completely naked, and wordlessly sat down on Alison's bed, spreading her legs wide to display her pussy.

"Fuck me, baby, please," Claire whined.

"How the fuck can you say that to me now?" Alison replied coldly, deliberately avoiding looking at Claire's crotch, but fixing her eyes with a steely glare.

Claire spread her cunt-lips open with two fingers. "I'm sorry, baby, sweet cunt, I'm so sorry -- I didn't know what I was saying. I was just desperate and scared."

"And jealous?" riposted Alison -- who was keeping all her clothes, and her jacket, and her shoes, firmly on. Claire's pink fuck-flesh glistened temptingly: Alison couldn't help but look.

"Yeah, of course I was jealous. I was scared, baby, I was scared you were going to leave me to go off with Rob and the God-freaks. And yeah, I don't want to lose you, cunt-pie. If that makes me jealous, then I guess I'm jealous. But doesn't that mean... I

love

you...?" Claire started to gently rub her cunt-lips, making them squish and squelch against her fingers.

Alison thought. "No," she said firmly. 'The true lover gives himself up for the one he loves.' That's what Father Ambrose said. If all you want is to hold onto me, because you can't stand being without me -- then that's not real love. Maybe it calls itself 'love' -- but that's exactly the sort of 'love' the Enlightenment came to stamp out: love which is jealous, possessive, abusive, selfish."

"Oh baby, really -- am I being abusive and selfish?" scoffed Claire. "Just because I love it when you kiss me... when you fuck me?" Claire spread her cunt-lips wider, so Alison could see more of her hot pink juicy folds -- inviting, beckoning, seducing her in. "I know you like my cunt. Is my cunt 'abusive'? Is my cunt 'selfish'? And is it so bad if my cunt is 'possessive'? I know you like the taste, the smell, the feel of all that warm wet fuck-juice on your tongue, on your lips, on your face. Here, have a good sniff," Claire said, holding up two glistening fingers towards Alison's face.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!" Alison exploded. "Can't you fucking think about anything else for a change, you FUCKING CUNT-BRAIN?!"

"Oh, that's the pot calling the kettle black!" Claire scoffed, removing her sticky fingers from Alison's face. "Last time you called me 'cunt-brain' we were ogling two hot nurses' pussies, and you were about to go off and get double-fucked in the ass! You're no fucking nun, Miss Alison Assfuck Bates!"

"Okay -- so neither of us is a fucking nun! But I don't go around declaring 'love' to people when it's nothing but a fake!"

"Yeah, but you do go around listening to bullshit stories about a fake 'God' who 'loves' you! Maybe my 'love' for you isn't perfect and eternal like your God's -- but at least it actually fucking exists!"

Alison paused, aggrieved. Claire paused her diatribe too, shuffling forward to stroke Alison's face and look into her eyes. More softly now, she said, "You make me happy, Al. You make me smile, you lift my spirits, you delight me. When I am with you, I feel like nothing can go wrong. And the thought of being without you scares me to death. If that's not 'love', then fuck 'love'! Goddammit, Al, I'm not an idealist like you. I don't want to be the greatest fucker in the world -- but nor am I interested in being a

'conqueror through him who loved us'

, or a

'bride coming down from heaven'

or whatever the fuck that man was going on about. I just want to be happy, have fun, and fuck a few people along the way." The aroma of pussy drifted up Alison's nostrils from Claire's glistening fingers, now stroking her hair.

"Hey, were you actually listening to the funeral service?" snorted Alison. "I thought you were in the bathroom jacking off!"

"I was!" Claire giggled. "But they had a PA system, with speakers in the fucking toilets! So I had to listen to all that shit whilst rubbing my cunt!"

Alison chuckled loudly, and looked again at her friend. Claire, she thought to herself, was still very beautiful, and very funny, and disarmingly honest -- and so sexy. Alison took a deep breath. "Yeah, you're right, babe. Of course, it's fine just to want to have fun and fuck. You're probably wiser than me: you'll certainly be happier in the long run. I'm sorry -- it's just that the 'L-word' touches a few raw nerves for me."

"That's okay, pussy-pie. I'm sorry if I scared you: it was just the only thing I could think of to say at the time which might make you stop and think. I was just scared of losing you..." Claire paused. "Now, come on, let's fuck -- it'll make us both feel better."

"Uh, okay, yeah, let's. What shall we do? You want me to fist your cunt, or stick some vegetables up your ass, or piss on your tits, or what?"

"Um, no... could you..." Claire paused.

"What?"

"Could you just..." Claire paused again.

"Fucking what?"

"Maybe just start by holding me? Just give me a hug?"

"Uh... okay... if you like. But... isn't that a bit boring for a total slut like you?"

Except that it wasn't boring. For, as soon as Alison disrobed and slid her naked body on top of Claire's, she noticed that something had changed. Before now, they had always fucked wild, they had talked dirty, they had called each other "slut" and "whore" and "bitch", they had rammed fingers, fists and dildos deep into each other's gaping orifices -- and they had screamed obscenities at each other for the sheer hedonistic pleasure of it. This time, though -- and at first Alison could barely work out why -- they wanted nothing more than to hold each other close, quietly, nipples tickling, breasts squashing, softly nibbling each other's lips and cheeks and necks, stroking each other's hair, and running delicate fingers up and down each other's young, smooth, warm bodies. Alison held Claire closer: she felt their mounds press together, felt their clits rub gently, felt their nectar smear, blend and lubricate their embrace. They were not

fucking

now -- at least, not like "RAF fucking", not the way Professor Cuntslicker taught them -- rather, they were lingering, wallowing in each other's presence, gently grinding clit against clit, making gentle tingles run up and down each other's bodies. Alison gazed deep into Claire's beautiful green eyes, and she felt nothing but delight. Claire's body was soft, clement, self-giving. It was as if nothing need be said, because somehow, purged now of the harsh words they had exchanged, relieved of all the welling unspoken resentments and fears, they felt themselves transformed, felt themselves...

one flesh

. Claire wrapped her legs around Alison, pulling her yet closer and gently squeezing her buttocks with her feet. Together, they revelled in the sensation of their tenderly enfolded bodies, the emollient slip-slide of vulvas squidging, flaring, kissing, melding. They came again and again, their ecstasy understated, almost silent -- but lodged deeper in their hearts than anything they had ever known.

"Oh God, Claire, this is... this is just like being

in love

!" Alison moaned into Claire's soft lips.

"Is it really? I wasn't sure... I didn't dare say..." Claire kissed Alison tenderly on her face.

"I bet this is what people used to call 'making love'..." ventured Alison.

"'Making love'? What the fuck's that?" Claire raised an eyebrow, as she opened her legs and let them drop to the bed.

"I read about it in

The Anatomy of Fucking

by Tatiana Titfukskaya," said Alison, sitting up. "In the olden days, people used to think that fucking was an expression of love."

"What? That's freaky," Claire grimaced. "I mean, that's perverted, that is!"

"Well maybe, but -- think about it: how did you feel just now? I mean, that wasn't a textbook fuck, was it? No anal, no dildos, no dirty talk or anything -- we weren't fucking the normal way, were we? It was... different... I mean, Cunts would have hated it..."

"No shit, can you imagine?" Claire did another of her Cunts impressions, sticking out her chest to imitate the Professor's huge tits: "'Stop holding each other so fucking close, girls! I wanna see some cunt, I wanna see some tit! I wanna hear some fuck-talk! What about your audience? They're gonna get so fucking bored!'"

Alison cackled. But then Claire paused, looked up at the ceiling, and thought hard. "You mean... you mean that's why that was so amazing just now...? We were -- what did you call it -- 'doing love'?"

"Making love," corrected Alison, as she lay down on her side to affectionately stroke Claire's hair. "Yeah, apparently in pre-Enlightenment times they mainly liked to fuck in private -- it was considered bad form to fuck for an audience."

"Fucking weird, if you ask me," replied Claire. "I mean, selfish, don't you think, to keep a good fuck to yourself?"

"I've seen my Mommy and Daddy fuck like that... like this... all close and cuddly, like no one else in the world matters. That must be 'love' -- even though no one these days dares to admit it. Haven't you seen it with your parents?"

Claire thought for while. "No... I don't think my parents love each other. They just fuck."

Claire and Alison stared into each other's faces, and then, without a word, kissed deeply, their tongues sliding effortlessly into each other's mouths, entangling, exploring, tasting, adoring...

Eventually their lips pulled gently apart, and once more they were gazing into each other's bright eyes. "I love you," they both said simultaneously. And they laughed with joy.

"So..." ventured Claire, tentatively, "do we tell people we're in love? Is that what people do?"

"You must be fucking joking, Claire! What we're doing is illegal -- just like that Bible you confiscated from me. We'd get kicked out of the RAF -- and probably disowned by our parents! No fucking way!"

"It's gonna be hard keeping a secret, though."

"You should've fucking thought about that before seducing me then, shouldn't you?" Alison laughed. "No, this has got to be our secret... I mean, Andy and Anna must have done it for years, I wonder what it is was like for them..."

"We could tell your God-freaks, though, couldn't we? Aren't they all hot on love and stuff? Hey, maybe your guy in the pyjamas could marry us!"

"Claire, you are a total shit-brain! Those guys are fucking Catholics! They don't let girls marry girls!"

"Why not?" asked Claire, puzzled. "I thought they liked people to marry for love or something. Isn't that what Rob wanted you to do?"

"Yeah, but..." Suddenly a look of alarm passed over Alison's face. "Oh fuck!" she cursed.

"What?"

"Oh shit -- hey look, I've just realised something -- I hope it's not too late -- I need to go back to the park and find this girl I met. Will you come with me? I owe her an apology."

"An apology -- for what?"

"I'll explain later, if we don't find her. Quick, let's go. It's getting late. I hope they're still there..."

~

"Riley! Hey, Riley!" The sun was nearly setting by the time Alison and Claire found Riley and her friends again. They were winding up their circle games, singing another old favourite:

Cock-a-doodle-do!

My dame will fuck wiv you

While master fiddles 'is fiddlin'-stick,

She'll gape 'er arse at you!

And there, lying at the centre of the circle, was Riley, her long silver-blonde hair splayed out over the grass, holding her buttocks high while the other girls in the group gathered around, taking turns to jerk the boys' cocks off into her asshole. Alison recognised some of them -- including buxom blonde Belle, Amber with the short black bob and red lips, and exuberant brunette Teresa who was squealing with glee as she stroked her friend Harry's cock.

"Hey, Riley, eat my cunt -- Riley!" called Alison again as she and Claire approached. Riley froze in alarm. "Riley, I'm really sorry I was such a shit to you earlier on. I was in a bad way. Can we talk? I want to help you."

Some of the boys had clearly already shot their loads -- for there was cum splattered across Riley's buttocks and asshole and into her gape. "And what a gape!" thought Alison to herself: it was as she remembered -- wide and perfectly circular, with a smooth quivering rim into which cum was slowly dribbling, making it glisten invitingly. Her reddish-brown rectal cauldron glowed gently with the reflected light of the late evening sun. "Oh fuck, that's so beautiful!" said Alison aloud. Riley smiled gleefully.

"'Ey, guys, sorry," said Riley to her friends, "I gotta talk to this girl. Why don'tcha all just finish off wivout me?" Riley started to lower her buttocks toward the ground.

"No, no, Riley, don't stop -- you're so amazing," Alison remonstrated, before turning to her young friends and saying, "Keep jerking off, guys, fill her ass up! Don't let us stop you. Riley, listen -- I'm at Fuckers' Hall: you know where that is?" Riley nodded. "Come and find me there -- one of these weekends, maybe? I wanna talk to you, I really do, and I wanna help you. And I'm really sorry about how I talked to you earlier. Okay?" Riley grinned and gave Alison the thumbs-up. Alison and Claire waved, turned and slowly walked away, their arms wrapped around each other as, behind them, the boys continued to fire volley after volley of hot cum into Riley's gaping rectum, as their girlfriends sang: