Chapter 109

1900 hours, local time,
Saturday, 19 July, 2014
The Church of the New Covenant
Hinton, West Virginia

Supper turned out to be a sort of wedding reception, and not just with Robin, since I had also y married my resurrected playthings: Lorraine, Loretta, and Penny. I had even baptized them, too, much to their delight. In short order, thanks to Robin’s organizing and culinary skills, plenty of classic, down-home, country comfort foods were provided to serve us, both things that I adored, such as fried chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy, and half-runner green beans, as well as the usual stuff that I personally disliked (basically anything with the word “salad” in it that somehow involved no lettuce and no shortage of mayonnaise).

That was when I witnessed a miracle, as God took pity on Till and restored his severed arm. The man’s prosthetic arm had been damaged somehow, so it was a timely move on the part of the Almighty. It was absolutely a demonstration of his power. If he wasn’t God, how could he give a man back his own missing arm? Just like that, the guy had a full, flesh and blood arm all the way up to the fingertips, even fingernails. He stood there in shock, at least until Raquel under the table invited him to use his new fingers to penetrate her holes.

Well, she was his first wife, wasn’t she, and she was madly in love with the guy, even if a bit bossy toward him even now. It was their deal, it worked for them, and I never questioned it one iota. Why should I? Water found its own level and every relationship within this tribe had its own dynamic, its own harmony, and its own balance. Raquel tended to be the aggressor in their sex life and I didn’t mind that at all. That was their business.

Things worked as a slow burn from a banquet of food to a festival of sheer wanton debauchery. It had to wait until the youngsters were put down for the night after either or nursing from their mothers during the feast. Once that was done, it wasn’t much longer before the orgy kicked off on steroids. By now, I noticed that many folks wore only long T-shirts or undershirts at the service and elsewhere, nothing else covering their asses. They were otherwise quite bottomless.

Pretty soon, in the reception/dining area of the church, I found myself, and others with me, walking up to people as they bent over the tables. I lifted their shirts and simply began fucking them in whichever holes I could or would desire. I had plenty of calories to burn, after all. I went behind each of these people to slip them my cock in alternating strokes. I wasn’t alone, of course, as noted. My spouses, friends, and lovers all eagerly licked and fucked plenty of those who welcomed their favors.

“You all sat in the pews for the services wearing this, eh? Not bad. It beats church attire when I was growing up in whichever church my aunt used to drag my cousin and me to at the time. It varied a lot growing up, I might add. She would take us there, flirt with the pastors, deacons, ushers, Sunday School teachers, etc. when she didn’t think that we were watching, have affairs with them, burn her bridges with each congregation, and then move on to the next. In any case, I totally dig the outfits,” I chuckled while I humped each of these lovely people in turn.

I gladly slapped and rubbed their buttocks, gradually raising their shirts until they were over their necks ... and ultimately heads. Before I ... and they knew it, they were completely nude, flaunting their bare skin to me. They didn’t seem to care or mind, probably because they were busy bucking their hips to take more of me inside their holes. Well, more of me and of my various companions, even as we began swapping partners back and forth.

“I love this whole ‘No Pants Week’ thing, no doubt of that. It’s a beautiful thing, the ‘No Pants Week,’ people walking around with their asses ... and other body parts hanging out. I love being mooned by so many of you at once. It’s truly magnificent, this business of literally half-naked folks, going around, flashing people their genitals as well as their lovely bottoms. I could get used to this and I think that you guys will, given the spread of Schumacher Syndrome and of our true faith, our new religion,” I mused as I screwed each of my partners openly and eagerly.

“Oh, fuck, yeah ... I love how you’re fucking my wife, you know ... can’t you just tell how great she is? I can’t wait to get Schumacher Syndrome myself and have both of us take the sharing, s swapping, and swinging to the next level. My Makino has always been so charming. She had to adjust to life in America, being Japanese, but she has embraced it all and introduced her own touches, her own changes and such. I’m Leo, by the way. Leo Caspian,” the tall guy next to her with the classic “pornstache” informed me while I slammed into his gorgeous Asian wife that way.

There not being a lot of Asians in town, she definitely stuck out for that and plenty of other reasons. There was a major culture shock there in many ways, but I looked forward to seeing the outcome of this particular exchange. There would soon be a lot more Asians, and others, in Hinton, of course. Makino was going to have plenty of descendants herself, as would Butch, naturally. At thirty, her biological clock was about to stop in its tracks, to put it mildly. Quite frankly, I had to be reassured that she was quite that age. She looked twenty-one on a bad day, easily eighteen or even as low as seventeen on a good one.