The spirit of Sister Agnes met a bearded, white-robed figure with a benevolent smile standing just outside the pearly gates. "Saint Peter?" she asked. She was wearing the same kind of white robe which, frankly, was a bit thin and translucent for her taste.

"Call me Pete. We don't stand on ceremony here," he answered. "I am as you wish me to be. At your service, Sister Agnes. May I call you Agnes?"

“Yes, of course...uh...Pete. I don't quite know what to say. This looks exactly as I thought it would look. Even to the cherubs sitting on clouds. And the harp music. Everything is so white and clean.”

"Your imagination makes it what it is," answered Peter. "Welcome to heaven! Your reward for a life well-lived."

Agnes looked around. Through the pearly gates was a yellow brick road that passed from cloud to cloud and in the distance was a castle of white and aqua blue, its turrets shining in the light of a warm yellow sun. "That looks like Disney World," she thought.

She turned away from the pearly gates and looked in the opposite direction. A ragged line of people dressed in sackcloth, their faces contorted in sadness, trudged down a muddy road of tumbled cobblestones lined by thorny bushes.

"Goodness," said she. "The man with the orange skin looks familiar."

Saint Peter sighed. "Yes, it is sometimes difficult to decide which path a client may take, but in his case, it was an easy decision. You, dear Agnes, have better options. May I explain our little home away from home, so to speak?"

He continued. "First, of all, you died in one universe. You are now in another universe and you have an infinite number of choices on how you will spend eternity. Virtual life after death, you will find, will be quite pleasant. You have accumulated a formidable number of points for good works and faith. Many more than some unfortunate souls. How would you like to begin eternity? Living in a temporal world, or trying something more exotic: a digital consciousness in the oversoul or perhaps a tour of black holes?”

She thought a moment. "I always dreamed of a perfect earth. Perhaps I would like a medieval village and a small house and a property of my own. I have never owned anything. I could have a vegetable garden. And fruit trees." Her enthusiasm mounted as she spoke. "And chickens. My mother had a garden and chickens when I was a child. A dog. I want a dog. A Labrador." She paused. "But I am eighty years old. I can't take care of chickens and a dog and a garden.”

"No worries," said Peter. "Here, you may be the age you wish to be.

"Any age I want? I was attractive as a youth. Is it all right to say that? Or is that vanity?"

"You were more than attractive! You were exquisite!" said Peter with enthusiasm.

Her first thought was, "Is that an appropriate compliment by a saint?" She dismissed the doubt. How could Saint Peter be inappropriate? "Thank you," she answered sincerely. "I always fought the sin of vanity. But it's nice to hear that from you. Some of those priests. Ugh." Oops, she thought, that wasn't a nice thing to say.

Peter reassured her. "Those bad priests follow the same path as the orange man. What age is good for you?"

"I don't want to be too young," she mused. "Nor too old. Thirty-five. Is that possible? Although I want to keep my eighty-year-old mind. I'm smarter now than then."

"Absolutely. Thirty-five you shall be with an eighty-year-old mind." He waved a hand, conjured up a floor-length mirror, and said, "Look at yourself."

She stared at the mirror. "Oh, my God!" She twirled round and round and pulled her white robe to herself to see the outlines of her body. "I wasn't bad looking, was I? Are you sure that vanity is okay?"

"You are permitted vanity. And other sins too, if you wish."

"I wouldn't want to be sinful. Well, maybe just a little to experience something of life outside the Church. Not that I wasn't happy as a nun."

"How about a husband? Or a wife? Children?"

"Oh, no. But I would like to have lots of caring, sharing friends. Male and female friends. I've not had any male friends. Ever," she mused.

"Your wish is my command, Agnes. Now, let's look at the options you have for a place to live, or perhaps better said, reside in a spirit that is indistinguishable from life. You want heaven to be rural, medieval, and agricultural. Like the Ireland of your childhood, perhaps?"

"Hmmm, No. Less rain and more sunshine, but with mountains and valleys and rainbows."

“Let me see what we have available.” He stepped to a golden table and sat down in a golden chair in front of a platinum-plated desktop computer with a large monitor. He talked as his hands played over the keyboard. “We're not immune to change in heaven. Just recently, I arranged a temporary transfer from down below for Steve Jobs. He did a great job organizing our computerized list of environments.”

He leaned back from the keyboard. "Here is a place which may meet your needs. What would you say to a fifty-year lease? Earth years, of course, And renewable." He touched a key and a video appeared. It showed a small stone cottage nestled along a river. A waterfall shimmered white in the background. The video panned out to show a narrow valley ringed by sheer cliffs of red rocks The valley floor was covered by green fields interrupted with copses of trees. The small rushing river of clear blue water bisected the valley.

The video rotated to show a narrow dirt road, shaded by enormous, ancient trees to a tiny village of gray, stone houses and narrow pathways, not unlike the ancient villages she had seen in the Cotswolds.

"It's perfect," she said. "My vision exactly. But I'll need a lot of books to read."

“We've anticipated that need. The technology is medieval. There's no running water or electricity – except that you'll have a heavenly Kindle preloaded with every book that's ever been published. That includes titles lost to your times such as How to Cook a Horse by Attila the Hun and 57 Ways to Kill your Wife by Henry VIII. Plus, you will have a heavenly time machine to view any historical event as it happened. Live, no censorship, no editing. You can answer the eternal question: Did Jesus get it on with Mary Magdalene?”

“I don't think I want to know that. It might be embarrassing, But I would like to see some things. I've always been curious about Joan of Arc, for example. She was my hero who inspired me to become a nun.”

“Joanie is big on Heavenly Channel 14. You can watch every day of her life from birth to death. All nineteen years of it. You've got an eternity to indulge yourself. You'll be happy to know that those responsible for her death have been toiling in Hell's Salt Mines for the last seven hundred years.”

“I'll pray for them,” said Agnes. But not very much, she thought.

“To continue,” said Peter, this valley and village have a population of three hundred, divided equally between men and women. It's not a place of leisure. You have to labor on your land and community service is required. Road repair, for example. Nothing supernatural about it, except that your neighbors will be good people. As you are."

"I like it," she said with enthusiasm. “But I'll miss one thing. I love hot showers to the point of sinfulness. I've confessed my undue affection for a hot shower, but this being heaven, do you suppose....?”

“The Heavenly Architect has thought of that. Hot springs are scattered around the valley for bathing. No clothing allowed in the hot springs. Is that acceptable to you?"

She paused. "I've never been naked before. Well, not in public I mean. There was the church and the calling...."

"You were married to the Church, but there is no Church here. This is paradise. You are a spirit, not a body. You will never be ill or diseased. You will not poop nor pee. Did I say that properly not to shock you? You will not have, how do I say it delicately, your monthlies, nor will you get pregnant if you choose to have sex. And, speaking of sex, in this vision of afterlife sex is not only encouraged, it is required."

"Required?" Agnes was shocked. Sex in paradise?

"Many former nuns find satisfaction in, how do I say it, the sins of the flesh. Those are not sins here because there is no such thing as exploitation or inequality."

"I'm much too old to think about sex. Oh, but you said I could be thirty-five. I do recall sometimes thinking of sex at that age, but of course, I prayed those thoughts out of my mind."

“Here, you'll have no need to restrain your desires. Living as a spirit, you will have access to all the things of life you may desire: sex, chocolate, chickens, Labradors, alcohol, and even marijuana. All in moderation, of course. Would you like more details about the requirements for sex in this environment?” Saint Peter bubbled with enthusiasm.

“Yes, please, but not too graphic, if you know what I mean. It's embarrassing for me to think about it. Sex, I mean.”

“No worries, I can read your mind. You want the PG-13 version.”

“That sounds right.”

“Okay, to explain, the people of this environment have decided that every man and woman has the right to sex on demand on Friday nights at a community party. You may, of course, also have sex on other nights, and with whomever you wish. Male or female. Over eighteen.”

“What if I can't bring myself to, well, uh, have sex?”

“We'll have to cancel your membership. You may then select a different environment."

"Fair enough. How does the sex part work?”

“The system is simple,” Peter gushed. “Every Friday night all adults are required to meet in town for a party, Dancing, drinking, festivities, and everybody gets laid during the course of the evening. It's guaranteed.”

“Do I get to pick my partner?”

“Yes, provided that you do your part in ensuring that nobody gets left out. That might require doubling up on partners. We have learned that a guarantee of the right to sex for every person is healthy. It eliminates war and aggression and many of the mental health problems that plague earthly societies.”

Agnes's insecurities came to the fore. “What if nobody wants me?”

“Not a worry,” Peter said, looking her thirty-five-year-old body over from top to bottom. “You're beautiful. You'll have to beat the men off with a stick, metaphorically speaking. And women too. My Lord in Heaven! With tits like that, you'll be a sensation.” He turned her around and looked at her posterior. “Damned good ass too.”

She blushed in embarrassment.

“But even if you were not beautiful, you would still get laid. And you are also obligated to assure that every man and woman gets fucked at least once a week. Oops, sorry, “fuck” is an R-word.”

The word “fuck” hit on Agnes's ear like a hatchet. The word had never passed her lips, and she had hardly ever heard it. But Saint Peter said it. It must be okay?

“So?” he asked. “Sign up here for fifty earth years? Conditional on being able to fulfill the requirements for sex as I described?” He handed her a golden pen and pointed her toward a large book of vellum pages on another table.

“I'll give the sex a try,” she said. She took the pen from him and wrote her name in the book. “Don't forget that I want a Labrador. A black one, please, if that is possible.”

“No sweat,” said Peter. “Thy will be done.” St. Peter and the pearly gates dissolved in mist.

***

Sister Agnes was transported across time and space. She opened her eyes and looked around. “It’s so real,” she said to herself. “So beautiful. Earth as I would have liked it to be.” A small stone cottage was surrounded by gardens and fruit trees and a chicken house. She lifted her head. Beyond the stone cottage was a waterfall foaming over a red-rock cliff and dropping into a pool of crystalline water.

Half a dozen men and women stood in front of the stone house, a Labrador sitting calmly at their side. A tall and distinguished man stepped forward. “Welcome to Aden! The name ‘Eden’ was already taken. So we named ourselves Aden. I’m Burt.” He shook her hand vigorously. “Say hello to the city council.” He beckoned to the three men and three women at the front of the house.

She looked at the group. They were a collection of sizes and shapes. The men were dressed in shorts and t-shirts. The women also wore shorts and halter tops covered their breasts. “No bras,” Agnes immediately noticed. “And they are showing quite a bit of skin.” She looked down at herself. She was dressed the same. Self-consciously, she adjusted the halter top to conceal more of her breasts. “I’ve never been so close to naked,” she thought.

The black Labrador came to her side and licked her hand. Burt said, “Her name is Blackie. Not very original I know.” He beckoned toward the stone cottage. “This is your house. Two rooms: a bedroom and a living room/kitchen. A fireplace. A deck is out the back door so you can enjoy the view.” He waved expansively.

“Notice,” said Burt, “the hot spring over there.” He pointed. “It’s a natural bathtub with a constant temperature of forty-two degrees. That's 108 degrees for Americans, but we're on the metric system here. If that’s too hot for you, other hot springs are nearby.”

Agnes looked at the hot spring. Three people were sitting in the water, one man and two women. They were naked. She flinched in surprise.

“Clothing in hot springs is forbidden,” Burt said. “It’s one of our few rules. We’re not a nudist colony, but we encourage a celebration of the body beautiful. Everybody here is beautiful, even if they were not judged to be on Earth. And everybody has equal access to the pleasures of the flesh.”

One of the men lounging in the hot spring stood up and waved at Agnes. She looked away quickly. “Goodness,” she thought, “His thing is so big! Surely that wouldn't fit into me.” She blushed red in embarrassment.

“That’s Randy,” said Burt. “He’s well named – and as you have noticed is well-endowed. He’s popular with the women. Well, at least some of them.”

Agnes turned back and forced herself to look at Randy. His penis reached halfway to his knees and was as thick as her wrist. She turned to Burt. “Did he choose to…uh…look like that, or was he that way in real life?”

“He was like that. Everybody in Aden looks just like they did on Earth although they select the age they wish to be.” He looked at her. “If you’d like to sample Randy, I’m sure it can be arranged. Some of the members of our community only have sex on Friday nights. Others are active more often. Randy is one of the latter.”

She stuttered. “I’m not sure how I’m going to be able to handle the…uh…sex here.”

“You’re a virgin?” he asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ve never even seen a….one of those things.”

“Maybe Randy would be a bit too much for you as a newcomer. I’ll offer myself to you. What I lack in length, I make up for in liveliness.” He smiled benevolently at her, put an arm around her shoulder, and continued. “It would be my honor. Tomorrow is Friday and we all meet at sunset to have a party and enjoy the sensual delights of our community. Attendance and participation is mandatory. Nobody gets left out. But in the meantime, if you’d like to sample Randy, or me, on anybody else feel free to do so. Our motto is ‘Everybody fucks.’”

She grimaced at the sound of the word, but said, “I’ll do my part, of course. I’ve always lived up to my responsibilities, but maybe I need a day to adjust before I go to the party…and participate.”

“Suit yourself,” Burt said amiably. “We leave you to get acquainted with your dog, your house, your chickens, and your garden. You’ll find some additional clothing in the house. You might want to put on something more festive for the party. Or show up naked. That’s all right too.” He paused to muse. “I recall one newly arrived woman who came to the party naked and fucked twenty men that first night. Including me. Wow! That was something. She had been like you, a nun on earth.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that,” answered Agnes, “but I’ll do my best.” She hoped she could.

***

The sun was low in the sky as Agnes tried to decide what to wear to the party. Nudity was out for her. The festive clothes hanging in her closet were all sparing of cloth. Neither a bra nor underpants were anywhere in sight. She liked the look of her legs as she tried on a mini skirt – but without panties, she would be uncomfortable wearing such a short skirt. So, she tried on shorts. She picked a pair at random. "Should I have shaved my public area?" she asked herself. "I guess I'll go as I am this time."

The tops were equally revealing. Some were nearly transparent. Others were only tiny patches of fabric that covered her nipples and nothing else. She picked a bikini top that tied around her neck and showed off her impressive – so she thought with a touch of pride – cleavage, but held her breasts firmly in place and was almost nipple-slip proof.

As she left her house, she said to herself with determination, "Well, tonight I am going to get laid. Relax Agnes, and enjoy. You can do it, girl. You can do it. You're going to get fucked. Finally." She was frightened but happy.

She walked to the village a few hundred yards away. A stream of people was walking in the same direction. Some were dressed, as she was, in relative modesty. Others were dressed in revealing outfits. A few, both men and women, were totally naked. Some of the naked had streaks of body paint covering their private parts. Agnes felt out of her element, but everybody was friendly, and she managed to avoid flinching when both men and women kissed her on her cheeks and welcomed her to Aden.

Her destination was a large, low building with an outdoor patio at the center of the tiny village. Dozens of people clustered on the patio. A totally naked waitress circulated with a tray of canapes and a man, equally unclothed, passed around drinks. A man and woman wearing only aprons stood behind a bar mixing drinks and tending to a smoking grill. The smell of barbecue permeated the air. The people were mostly, as she was, in her thirties. A few appeared to be closer to 20 and others nearly 60. Some were beautiful, many were not, and they came in all shapes and sizes. Agnes repressed a prideful thought that her body was better than the average.

Burt met her as she stepped onto the flagstone patio. "Agnes!" he gushed. "Welcome to the Aden Copulation Center." She managed to smile as he kissed her on the cheek and patted her on the rear. He raised her hand with his and turned to the people scattered about the patio. "People, listen!” he shouted. “This is Agnes, our newest arrival, and our first in many a virtual year. On earth, she was a nun – and a virgin. This is new to her. She's not at all like Mother Teresa, so let's be careful to ensure that she enjoys herself."

"Mother Teresa?" mused Agnes to herself. "The Mother Teresa? Was she the one who fucked twenty men her first night here?" She looked at the onrushing crowd of men coming to her side. "Oh, why did he have to tell people I'm a virgin?"

Burt whispered in her ear. "I'm available if you want me." He took her by the hand and led her to the center of the patio. "Let me introduce you to my wife." Burt's wife was gorgeous – and barely dressed. She wore a Roman toga that was semi-transparent and draped loosely over the curves of her body. Agnes noted with relief that she was unshaven, with a distinct dark triangular patch of hair visible through the thin fabric.

"Melody was my wife in real life and we came here together after a car accident killed us both. We had two children and we hope they join us after they die." Melody hugged Agnes and the two exchanged pleasantries.

"Melody was a great help to me in my election campaign," interrupted Burt. "Oh, yes, we have elections here, although the vibe is always pleasant and focused on who has done the most for the community. Melody won the hearts of everyone with her dedication to fornication. During my campaign, she fucked every man and woman in the community: all 300 of them. What a show of civic pride that was! I won by a landslide."

"Congratulations," Agnes said with a tremor in her voice. "That's certainly an impressive accomplishment."

Melody whispered in her ear. "Don't accept Burt's invitation to be your first. He's a wanker. He'll cum all over you, but he won't fuck you worth a damn. That's why I had to take it on myself to fuck everyone so people would vote for him. Burt's a lovely man, but I don't recommend him for your first."

"Well, thanks for the tip," said Agnes, "but I feel obligated to Burt because he has welcomed me so warmly."

"I'll divert him to Susie," said Melody. “She is the blow job queen. That woman's mouth is like a fire hose. She can do Randy all the way down her throat without choking. It's amazing to see." With that, she took Burt by the arm, pulled him away, and led him through the crowd.

Agnes had no shortage of suitors as she accepted a drink and a slice of smoked salmon. She sipped her drink. The alcohol stung her mouth. "How do I pick a man?" she asked herself. "I should have asked Melody." She looked over the half dozen men circled around her. One was totally naked and his penis was erect. "Not him," she said. "I need somebody who, like me, is shy and a bit out of place." Her attention focused on a small, balding man, who hung back in the crowd of men around her, and said little. He was dressed modestly, "Him," thought Agnes with decision. She struggled for a way to express herself. Finally, she looked at the small, balding man, and said, "Can you show me around?"

The little man stuttered. "Certainly, I would be happy too. My name is Harold."

Harold and Agnes walked away together, their shoulders rubbing. They walked to the swimming pond where naked couples cavorted. Agnes averted her eyes from one couple in the water. He was standing, holding her hips with his hands and she was wrapped around his middle and gyrating back and forth, a wide smile on her face.

"Sex in public!" said Agnes, amazed. "Fucking. That seems to be a common word here. I should get used to it."

Harold and Agnes toured the rooms in the house off the patio. Some doors were closed and some were open and couples were within and Agnes could see that penises were entering vaginas and mouths. She glanced at three men standing in a circle and pulling on each other's penises. "What do they call it when men have sex?" she wondered.

"I should warn you," said Harold, his face turning red. "I'm a three-stroker. But I recover quickly. I thought you should know that if you're, well, considering me to be your first."

Agnes looked at him. "Thank you for telling me that." She mustered her courage and kissed him on the cheek. "Let's do this. I mean....let's fuck. I don't really know to go about doing it, so maybe you can help. Will it hurt? The first time? I've heard that it hurts."

"I don't know," he said humbly. "I've never fucked a virgin. But I'll be careful. Be warned, I'll probably cum while I'm trying to get inside you. I didn't have much luck with women in real life.“

"We sound like we're made for each other," Agnes responded with a touch of irony. “A man even more insecure than I am,” she thought. “Perfect!”

"Here's an empty room," said Harold. He took her hand and led her inside. A queen-size bed was there; the sheets were satin; sunshine filtered through an open window and birds were outside singing in the branches of a tree in bloom.

Agnes looked around and then at Harold. "What do we do now? I assume you've been here before?"

"Yes," he said, "but with a first-timer, I'm a little nervous. Shall we kiss?"

"That seems like a way to begin." Harold put his arms around her waist and lowered his face to hers and their lips met, softly at first, then harder, and then their tongues touched, and his hands glided over her buttocks, and she felt the bulge in his shorts as their groins touched. "Sorry," she said and pulled away. "I can't breathe."

"Was it good?" Harold asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"Yes, I liked it. I haven't been kissed like that since I was in high school. Sixty-five years ago. And not often even then. I was such a prude." She laughed and pulled his face to hers and they kissed again, and she ran her hand up and down his flank and he held himself tightly against her and she felt his stiffening penis pressed against her.

They backed off each other to catch their breath and his hand found her neck, and then her chest, and reached down to loosen the top button on her blouse, and found its way to the cleavage between her breasts and then to a nipple which he caressed softly.

"And that has never been done to me," she said, moving her hips closer to him and rubbing her pubic bone against his hip.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he said, "I'm sorry I'm so lame. I can never think of anything to say.”

"No apologies needed.” To herself, she said, “I bet this guy gets left out until the end of the night every week. Why do I always pick the underdog, the downtrodden?” She answered herself, “Because I'm a nun. A fucking nun it appears if this gentle insecure man continues. Maybe I have to take charge.” She wiggled her body and moaned in a way that she hoped was seductive.

He took the invitation. His hand loosed another button on her blouse, then another, and her blouse gaped open and his hand weighed a breast in his cupped hand. She helped him pull the blouse over her shoulders and arms. Naked from the waist up, she leaned back as his mouth found her nipple and sucked, softly at first, and then hard, as the nipple became firm.

"Your breasts are beautiful."

"You said something!" she joked. She put her hands beneath his hips and drew him to her, relishing the feeling of his hardened penis against her body. "I can do this," she thought. "I can enjoy it!' She said to him. "Shall we lie down?"

"Oh, sorry, I should have asked you that."

"No more apologies. Just keep doing that with my tits." That was the first time she had ever said the word "tits."

They reclined on the bed, she bare-chested and he pulled his shirt off. She raised her hips to feel him better. He was sucking one breast and then another and a tingle went through her body.

"Maybe I should do this first," he said. He rolled off her, reached down and unzipped his pants, pulled them over his feet, and tossed them to the floor. He kneeled above her.

"Oh, my God!" she thought. Harold's penis and balls were hovering above her face. "It looks like a turkey neck and gizzards. And it's big! Not big like Randy's but big.” She touched his penis with her hand.

"Oh, fuck," he said. "All I needed was a touch and I'm going to cum. I told you I'm a three-stroker. Damn it!” And he hunched into her hand, and his body shook, and a whitish liquid came out of the tip of his penis and landed on her face and throat and breasts. It kept coming out, spurt after spurt. The emission from his penis ceased, and she watched it soften, the last few drops of sperm dribbling out onto her cheek.

"Well, at least I haven't had to see if that thing will fit in my vagina," she thought. "How does this stuff taste?" She touched a droplet of sperm with her finger and put it in her mouth. "Sticky, salty, but not too bad. And how do I clean this mess up? Not with my clothes. They'll get gross."

Harold solved that problem. He began licking up the sperm on her face and breasts and chest. It felt good. "Do you want to take my shorts off?" she asked.

"Oh, sure, it's time for that," he answered meekly. He undid the top button of her shorts and pulled them over her feet, and she lay on the bed, naked, the cum still glistening on her breasts, a half-smile on her face, her chest rising with each breath, and her legs partially spread.

She became the aggressor with this uncertain man, a not unpleasant feeling, although she worried that she would do the wrong thing and maybe he would not get hard again. She needed to have sex, so that next time she might have more expertise in how this thing called fucking was done.

"Can I kiss you between the legs," Harold asked?

"Yes, of course."

"You're a virgin, but you've masturbated? And cummed?"

"Yes, although not often. I always thought it was a sin and I was too embarrassed to confess it to the priest every month."

He lowered his mouth to her public area. "See if you like this. Maybe it will relax you a bit while I get hard again."

"I must still be tense," she thought. "Try to relax. Drain your thoughts. Like meditation. Like prayer. Climax. Cum." Harold's mouth found her clitoris and sucked and then his tongue went down to her vagina and he thrust inward.

“Does that feel okay?” he asked. “Am I hurting you?”

“No!” she said emphatically. “I think I like that.” Humble as he was, he seemed to know what he was doing. “Well, he should,” she thought. “He fucks somebody every week. Lots of practice.” She was curious, so she asked. “How long have you been in Aden, Harold?”

“Thirty years,” he answered, raising his head from her clitoris.

“And you've...uh...fucked a lot of women?”

“Oh, yes. All of them.”

“All 150 women?”

“More, actually, because a few have departed and new ones like you arrive. But in real life, I was hopeless, fifty years a virgin. This is a nice place for a loser like me.”

“Well, you're not a loser at pussy sucking.” Another new word had passed her lips. And her clitoris was definitely feeling a tingle.

“I think I'm going to cum,” she said. “Could you maybe, put a finger in me to help me along? Oh, oh, now I'm sure. I'm definitely going to cum.” She sucked in her breath.

His finger slid into her vagina and his mouth increased the pressure on her swelling clitoris. She arched her back to drive him deeper inside her and then she was climaxing. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” she screamed. “Oh, my God,” she thought, “everybody in this place can hear me.” She shut her lips as the last waves of an orgasm rippled through her body.

“Did you like that?” asked Harold.

“I thought it was obvious that I did,” said Agnes with a touch of sarcasm.

“That fulfills our statutory obligation.”

“What does that mean?”

“The rules of the community are that we both have to cum. We've done that, so if you wish, we can stop now. I'll understand if you don't want to go further.”

She thought a moment. “No, I would like to fuck you, Harold.”

“Oh, good,” he responded. “Let's do it. You know it might hurt a little bit, you being a virgin.”

“It'll be all right. I don't have a hymen. I broke it when I masturbated. With a cucumber.”

“A cucumber?” he said with astonishment.

“Why did I say that?” she asked herself. She explained: “Well, yes. I was in a nunnery. I could have used a carrot, but I thought a cucumber would be better. I did it often, but I only used small cucumbers. And I coated them with olive oil. They went in a lot easier that way.” She covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. “Oops, I think I've given you too much information.”

“No, it's fascinating. My little cucumber should fit in you easily.”

“Oh, Harold, you're making a joke. I like that.”

He stuck a finger up her vagina. “You're wet, so we don't need any oil.”

“Fuck me, Harold.” She spread her legs. Her hesitation was gone. She was looking forward to this. She only hoped she could climax again.

Harold rolled over on top of her and his hand guided his penis to her vagina and he pushed and he was inside and she gasped.

“I'll last a little longer this time,” Harold said. “Promise.”

“I'll hold you to that. Can we cum at the same time?”

“We'll try.” He put his hands under her hips and raised her and thrust deep within her.

“I can feel the skin on your penis go backward and forward.”

“I'm not circumcised.”

“I want to give you a blowjob, but not now. Keep that up.” Harold was pumping harder now, faster and she fastened her legs around his waist. She felt his penis rubbing against her pubic bone and her clitoris was tingling. “I'm almost ready,” she said.

“So am I.”

“I'm going to cum! I can feel it now. I'm cumming. Now. Oh, God! My God!” She rotated her hips wildly, willing him deeper within her, pounding his penis against each wall of her vagina. She felt the heat of his climax inside her and her fingernails ran up and down his back and clutched his buttocks and then she was shaking uncontrollably, whimpering and crying at the same time.

“Oh, Harold,” she said when she could talk. She was glowing with love. “That was wonderful.”

He sat up. “I agree. We must do that again, but I have to go now.”

“Why?” She was astonished – and disappointed.

“I'm on the clean-up detail taking care of the sexual needs of any who haven't paired up during the night. Sorry, but it's my obligation. Maybe if you want more, you could join the clean-up detail? Other partners await you.”

"Does everyone have to serve on the clean-up detail? And fuck a lot of people?”

“We all have our obligations, even in heaven.”

She adjusted her mind to that. “That's the way it is in Heaven. Who am I to complain?” She shrugged and felt confidence flowing through her. “I will always love you because you were my first, but maybe I'll look for another man. I want to do it again.”

“I'll send Burt. He likes you. Bye for now.”