I’m seeing lots of these on Amazon. Honestly, never read one. That’s a good thing. It leaves me un-jaded. Here’s my version.
Book Title: Sex for Jesus
Author: Hugh Jorgan (Yes, a pseudonym, silly.)
Introduction: Bethany and Justin are two adults trying to find their way as a loving couple that lives by rules laid down by misogynistic old fucks way back before central heating. Hormones are a-raging, as they typically are for people in their early 20s. The lovers struggle to decide how to satisfy their desires, without offending some cloud-pillow riding pervert, who really should be sending food to Africa instead of watching these two bone.
Bethany: “Oh, Justin, my little love button longs for your touch.”
Justin: “Let me check the rules. Hm. Here it is. Yes! I am allow to stroke your love bean. Hooray! But, then what about my flesh pipe?”
Bethany: “I imagine I could give it few yanks without offended our Lord and Savior.”
Justin: “I don’t know. Better check. Let’s see–yes, a few dozen yanks are permitted as long as there’s no condom involved. Thank God for that. I mean, literally.”
Bethany: “Fun! Wait. Should I be wearing gloves?”
Justin: “Heavens no. Let’s lie next to each other and play the organs.”
Bethany: “Why, Justin, that feels quite nice. Oh, my. I really want you inside me, but we’re not married, so in the eyes of our Lord, that would be a sin.”
Justin: “Fuck. Ooh, sorry. Need to remember that one for confession. Hey, that’s it! Confession. Holy shit! We can do just about anything, then simply confess it on Saturday, and we’re good to go.”
Bethany: “Really? Is the punishment for intentional sins more severe than for accidental ones?”
Justin: “What do you mean?”
Bethany: “Well, for example, if we do some completely legal grinding–let’s say with our chonies on–and due to all the friction and slop, they happen to accidentally slip to one side and, by golly, if your dinky-do happens to do something accidental, like enter my love tunnel, it would be a sin, but not a severe one. I’m thinking five or ten Our Fathers should cover it.”
Justin: “Sounds like a plan. But, now that we’ve discussed it, if it happens, it probably leans more toward the intentional sin thing.”
Bethany: “Fuck. Whoops. One for me too. Can you look up the premarital sex penalty?”
Justin: “Sure. Not so bad–a few dozen prayers. We’re not allowed to use condoms, though. Ooh, and look here in the fine print: anal sex is not covered.”
Bethany: “Sorry, mister. I’ll take the few dozen prayers over a sore, leaky butt hole.”
Justin: “Cool. Let’s do it.”
Ten seconds later…
Justin: “Oh, Christ … sorry … I’m about to explode. What should I do? I think if I spill my seed upon the ground, it’s bad.”
Bethany: “Wait. Hold on. No spilling for another twenty minutes, at least. If I’m blowing an hour of my Saturday, I’m getting an orgasm out of this too.”
Justin: “But, I can’t hold back. Could I spill my seed upon your boobs?”
Bethany: “No, damn you!”
…and they both lived crappily ever after, trying to fight their natural urges by following primeval rules.
Fine. Maybe I’m not cut out for this.