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2003-09-17
Moved to a remote coastal location, he had stirred up a hornet’s nest by taking on the local harbour union. Recalled to the diocese headquarters, his regular newspaper column and radio and television appearances were making him a media pundit, threatening to eclipse even the Bishop’s authority. He had all the dangerous enthusiasm and rhetoric of the educated but deeply inexperienced celibate male that he was. There was no doubt about it, mused the Bishop, he would have to do something to curb that enthusiasm, maybe slow Father Joe down a little, but without breaking his spirit. Just then the Bishop’s secretary knocked on the heavy panelled door and said, “Mother Mary Magdalene is on the ‘phone, Bishop. She wants to know are you going down to the Convent to give them their retreat as usual this year. What shall I tell her?” His voice belied the respect he knew was due the Mother Superior, for she was known to be a demanding woman and the bane of the Bishop’s life. But the Bishop smiled broadly and rolled his eyes upwards. “God works in mysterious ways, Father Jerome. Tell Mother Mary that I’m sending her someone in my stead this year, someone who can be guaranteed to frighten those young novice nuns of hers in a way that I never could. And get Father Joe in here, tell him I have a job for him”. A week later young Father Joe found himself at a dusty crossroads, smoothing his black suit as he stepped down from the long-distance bus on which he had travelled to the remote Convent. He had no idea what he had done to deserve this signal honour but he was determined to prove to the Bishop that he could rejuvenate flagging faith as readily as he could organise militant parishioners. All he knew was that he was to spend a week here, talking to about fifty novice nuns collectively and individually, answering their questions on theology and on faith and leading them in prayers for the renewal and consolidation of their faith and their vocation. All the same, he was a little nervous. His academic training as a priest qualified him at least in theory, but his experience was that the simplest question in theology often disguised a minefield of potentially wrong answers, and often led to an unveiling of hidden doubts.
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As he assembled his thoughts, a battered Volkswagen bus shuddered to a halt near him, throwing up a cloud of dust. A wrinkled face peered out from an equally wrinkled wimple and a shaky Irish voice asked, “Are ye Father Joe? I said, are ye Father Joe?”. “Yes, I’m Father Joe”, he admitted, thinking to himself, who else could I be in a black suit and dog-collar in this heat? Beelzebub? “Well, get in, get in, I haven’t all day”, the old nun said peevishly. A younger nun sat behind her but did not look at Father Joe as he climbed aboard the bus. “Is it far?” asked Father Joe, more as a conversational gambit than from any real curiosity. “Is what far?” asked the old nun, as she swerved across the road to avoid some invisible danger, slamming her foot first on the brake then on the accelerator. “The Convent. Is it far?” asked Father Joe. “No, no, no. It’s not far, it’s not far. We’ll be there by dark”. “Good God”, thought Father Joe, “it’s only noon and I haven’t eaten since dawn”. The bus swerved again as without warning the old nun brought the bus to a sudden screeching halt. “Wrong way”, she said, as much to herself as to Father Joe. “Wrong damn way! Damn and blasht it!” She turned the bus without a glance to see if there was any other road user around, mounting the kerb as she turned.
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Behind Father Joe, the younger nun still clung wordlessly to her seat but he thought he heard an almost silent prayer, an imprecation to God to preserve their souls on this hazardous journey, “and especially young Father Joe who was come to save all our souls”. Three hours later Father Joe emerged shakily from the bus, turning to help the old nun down. “Get your hands off me! I said, get your hands off me! I’m perfectly capable of getting out myself!” was the only thanks he got for his politeness. He lifted his hand to the younger nun, who took it gratefully, her hand soft and light in his. She leaned on his arm as she dismounted and said softly to him, “Thank you, Father Joe. You’re very kind”, her eyes cast demurely downward. Her body was as light on his arm as was her hand in his. For just one moment Father Joe was nonplussed, confused by the difference between the old and the young. “So you’re Father Joe. You’re going to put the fear of God back into my girls, are you?” The Mother Superior sat back behind a heavy desk and examined the young priest who sat nervously before her. Years of experience had taught her that even the mildest-mannered priest could deliver a sermon to rouse the devil himself but this handsome young priest did not look as though he had ever even heard of fire and brimstone, never mind preached it. “I’ll do my best, Mother Mary. The Bishop…. ” “Oh, to blazes with the Bishop. He’s been giving our retreat here at this Convent for the last twenty years and between you and me, I think he’s past it”, said the nun.
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“It’s up to you now to take up where he left off. Sister Elizabeth will show you to your room. You can start us off with confessions and a good talk after supper tonight”. She gestured an end to the interview and Father Joe stood. What was he to do next? he wondered. The door behind him opened and another young nun took his single suitcase. He followed her in silence as she led him through long darkened corridors. They passed several novices as they passed from one part of the convent to another and each time, the young nuns-to-be pressed themselves closely to the wall to allow the sacred person of the priest pass, their eyes lowered to the floor. Finally they came to a heavy wooden door. “This is the Bishop’s room”, the young nun said in a reverential voice. She seemed almost overcome with awe. “You’re to sleep here in his place, Father”. She opened the door and Father Joe followed her into the dark room. She pulled back the heavy curtains and as she did so, dust filled the air. Obviously no one’s been in here since the Bishop’s last visit, he thought to himself.
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As if reading his thoughts, he heard the young nun say, “No one’s slept in here since the Bishop’s last visit, Father”. Father Joe saw an enormous double bed with a heavy embroidered bedcover. In the corner stood a large statue of the Virgin Mary. A bloodthirsty print of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, complete with thorns and oozing blood, hung over the bed. A perpetual flame glimmered under the framed print. Father Joe shuddered – that had never been one of his favourite images, a beating heart torn from the living body of the Son of God. Four big pillows loomed out of the gloom as the young nun threw back the quilt on the big bed. “I hope you have everything you need, Father. The vestments for Mass are in the wardrobe, we’ll take them down to the Sacristy in the morning. Supper is at seven, prayers at eight and we go to bed at nine”. “Oh? What time is breakfast?” “Six o’clock, Father”, answered the young woman as she gathered the heavy folds of her ankle-length habit and left the room. Father Joe opened the wardrobe and saw there an array of liturgical vestments – amice, alb, cincture and several chasubles of different colours, white for day-to-day Masses, green for high days and red for the feast-days of saints and martyrs. He sat on the bed and pondered the situation. How was he going to get through the next week? But the bed was surprisingly soft…Father Joe sat at the raised table looking down at the gathering of novice nuns below. Fifty scrubbed and expectant young faces looked up at him, all peas in a pod.
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The novices had all changed from their workday black habits and were all now dressed in flowing white robes, bright faces shining forth from white wimples. Around their waists they all wore cinctures of woven rope, each with identical heavy wooden crucifixes. In front of every novice was a bowl and a spoon and the aroma of fresh-baked bread filled the cloistered hall. Mother Superior stood and introduced the young priest. “This is Father Joe, the Bishop has sent him here to hear our confessions and to lead us in prayer and contemplation for the next week. I want you all to make Father Joe welcome here in our midst”……she went on to extol Father Joe’s goodness and his wide knowledge of theology before turning to him and inviting him to offer grace before their meal. Father Joe cleared his throat and said a simple grace, deeply conscious of one hundred eyes fixed on him, obviously in awe of him as the Bishop’s representative and a man already committed to God in every sense. Father Joe sat and as he ate the simple meal put in front of him by yet another fresh-faced virgin dressed in white, he carefully avoided any conversation of any moment with the older nuns clustered on either side of him. All he had to do to get through the week was to say as little as possible and to appear wise and unworldly to these pretty young women while hopefully, reinforcing their commitment to their vocation as brides of Christ. Meal over, Father Joe was shepherded into a small anteroom where he was to hear confessions. He sat in an enclosed and darkened box, kissed his sacred stole, adjusted it around his neck and waited for the first penitent to enter the room. A few moments later he heard the door click and the latticed window slid back. He could just make out the lowered head shrouded in white as the young novice started her confession. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…. It is a month since my last confession and I have sinned before God”“Confess your sins, my daughter.
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God is waiting to forgive you”, intoned young Father Joe in his most deliberate voice. “Father, I have been greedy and covetous of others’ good fortune. I have lost my temper and thought angry thoughts and I took food from the kitchen when I shouldn’t have…. . ” Her voice tailed off as she heard the priest sigh. “Is that all, Daughter? Have you no more sins to confess?”The novice hesitated and Father Joe craned forward to hear her dropping voice. “I…. I…. . I have had impure thoughts, Father”“I see”, said Father Joe, adopting a stern tone. “What kind of impure thoughts?”“About boys, Father”“About boys? What about boys, daughter?”“About boys I knew before I entered the Convent, Father. I think of them all the time, Father. I can’t get them out of my mind”. Father Joe pondered the young penitent’s words. There was nothing for it, he thought – he would have to find out more if he was to estimate the level of danger this girl was in.
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“You’ll have to tell me all about it, my daughter. What exactly are these impure thoughts about?”“I think about them kissing me, Father. I think about them touching me”“Touching you, daughter? Touching you where?”“Touching me…… down there”“Down there? Down where?” asked Father Joe, mystified. “Between my legs, Father”“I see. Did any of these boys ever touch you down there, daughter?”“Yes, Father”. The priest could hear the shame in the young girl’s voice. “What else happened, daughter?”There was a silence from the other side of the latticed screen. “Well?” insisted the priest. “He put his fingers inside me, Father. And he made me touch him…. down there”“I see” said the priest. What on earth could he say next? This was the first time he had heard a nun’s confession. If this was any ordinary teenage girl he would have known what to say but the fact that this was the confession of a supposed virgin, dedicated – no, consecrated – as a bride of Christ, troubled him. “And did you like the feelings you experienced, daughter?”Again, the voice hesitated, almost trembling when she finally said, “Yes, Father. Very much.
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But when I confessed, the priest told me that if I never did it again everything would be all right”“And have you ever done it again, my daughter?”“No, Father…… at least, not with a boy, Father”.
“Not with a boy? Then how?”“I touch myself, Father. And sometimes…. sometimes…. . Sister Angela…… sometimes Sister Angela touches me and I touch her. It’s alright if it’s not with a boy, isn’t it, Father?”The young priest sighed again. “No, daughter. Sometimes it’s even worse if you do it with another girl, even another nun”“What can I do, Father? Am I losing my vocation? Sometimes I need to touch myself so badly I just can’t stop, I have to lie down in the middle of the day sometimes. I think of a boy’s…. thing and I can’t help myself, I want to be loved so much”Father Joe decided he had to bring this confession to an end before he got into further hot water. At the same time, he was aware of a feeling in his own groin which he had not experienced since entering the seminary. He looked down to confirm his worst fears and sure enough, his soutane bulged with a mighty erection, brought on by this young girl’s confession and the intimacy of the confessional, only a slim panel separating him from a beautiful and nubile young woman who had just told him how much she liked masturbating to the image of a man’s erect penis. “Daughter, you must avoid all occasions of sin, you must put these impure thoughts aside and remember your vows to God. Say a decade of the Rosary for your penance.
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Ego te absolvo…” and he intoned the words of the absolution. Wiping his brow, he brought the confession to a close. But that was not the end of it. Novice after novice, virgin after supposed virgin, confessed to him their deepest, darkest secrets until he was ready to collapse, exhausted if not sated, by the enormity of the weight of throbbing, pulsating, living, praying sexuality which unfolded before him. If all these confessions were true, he thought, it was a wonder that God had not sent down pestilence and disease, famine and fire, to destroy this harlot’s haven, this veritable brothel full of sex-crazed nymphomaniacs, depraved and sinful lesbians that they were. Father Joe almost staggered out of the box, pulling the sacred stole from his neck and kissing it hurriedly before folding it carelessly and thrusting it into his pocket. He was conscious not only of his blushes but also of his mighty erection which by now threatened to trip him up as he stumbled to his room, unaware of the knowing look given his exit by Mother Superior, who stood quietly in the shadows as he rushed past. Father Joe threshed and turned in the big bed as he mulled over the revelations of the previous two hours. What was he to do? Should he talk to the Mother Superior and leave it to her to sort out these brazen hussies? Or should he just report back to the Bishop? He could not sleep, for his huge erection would not subside. His penis jutted out like a flagpole as he tried to banish the thought of acres of virgin flesh, stripped of white habits, wearing just ropes of silk around slim waists, dozens of perfect breasts, some small and girlish, some heavy and full of milk, but all lined up for his inspection, hungry for his touch, his thirst mouth, firm young thighs opening to his slightest touch, heavy lustful breathing in his ear, warm lips on his, tongues touching him down there, moist young vaginas opening to take in his holy pole, his staff of sanctity, mouths sucking out the elixir of sacred life…. It was no good, he just could not sleep. Silently he allowed his hands drift down to touch his swollen penis. This had never happened to him before. He had always been able to put away those thoughts which came to all boys, and probably sooner or later to all priests, but not tonight. He thought of the vesting prayer which he always recited before donning the cincture - Gird me, O Lord, with the cincture of purity and extinguish in my heart the fire of concupiscence so that, the virtue of continence and chastity always abiding in my heart, I may better serve Thee.
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It was no use, not even the words of St. Peter could save him - do not yield to the desires that once shaped you in your ignorance – he could not resist the Devil’s temptations. He gripped his penis and stroked it slowly. His cock responded immediately, jumping in his hand. He gripped it tightly and began a slow milking movement, already sensing the relief from tension which would surely follow. He allowed his fingers trace the bulging veins of his penis, felt a slow leakage of pre-cum. He touched the head of his penis, felt the wetness, and in wonderment lifted his fingers to his mouth, tasting the salty sweetness of his own bodily fluids. Excited, he dropped his hands again and this time leaped immediately into a world of pleasure as he began to masturbate in earnest. But before he could bring himself to climax he saw a chink of light – not a revelation, but the merest crack of light as the door opened silently and three shapes glided in. He sat up quickly, his penis still erect and upright in his hand. “Who’s there?” he called. Was he seeing ghosts or had three novices dressed in flowing white habits, just entered his room, “the Bishop’s room”, in the dead of night? “It’s just us, Father Joe” came a soft voice. “Who is ‘us’?” he asked anxiously. “And what do you want?”“It’s Sister Elizabeth, Father Joe, and Sister Angela and Sister Monica are with me. We came for our penance” came the answer.
Father Joe pulled the sheet to cover his nakedness but he could nothing to disguise his erection. His penis bobbed and weaved as if trying to make its own way, of its own volition, to this prospect of paradise on earth. “What do you mean, your penance? Did I not I give you all your penance already?”“But it wasn’t enough, Father Joe. We need more”. The voice was low, close to bed now. “More? What more can there be, daughter? Have you said your penance?”“Yes, Father, but we still need more”, and with these words, Sister Elizabeth pulled the sheet gently from Father Joe’s grip and let it fall to the floor. Sister Angela moved to the other side of the big double bed, while Sister Monica – at least, Father Joe assumed it was she, for all he could make out was the shadowy outline of their bodies against the looming moonlight which streamed in through the tall windows – took her place at the end of the bed. He felt a cool hand on his shoulder. “Lie back, Father Joe. Let us make our penance” He felt another hand on his other shoulder and although he struggled weakly against the pressure, he allowed himself to be pushed back naked on the bed, his penis still upstanding, bobbing, weaving, surging forward like the tides to the draw of the moon. He felt more hands on his lower limbs as Sister Monica moved to hold him by his legs, her hands roaming his muscled thighs. Sister Angela lay across his body, gently stroking his chest, while Sister Elizabeth went to the wardrobe and reached for a red chasuble. As she approached the bed he thought of the colour of saints and martyrs and as she thrust his arms through the sleeves of the garment he prayed desperately for help. But it was useless, he was paralysed with desire, his mind saying one thing, his body another and he succumbed to Angela’s soothing touch and Monica’s heavy breath as her mouth danced around his throbbing penis. He lay with his arms now pinned on either side as with their free hands Sister Elizabeth and Sister Angela stroked his torso, cooling, soothing, exciting, their hands moving ever closer to the root of his sacred being, where Sister Monica was already blowing hot breaths as her mouth hovered over his cock.
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He moaned as he felt Monica’s mouth close on his cock and instinctively he reached to find the soft swelling breasts of the nuns on either side of his body. As he fumbled under their habits, Elizabeth and Angela threw aside their white robes, revealing breasts heavy and full with promise, white flanks and thighs unblemished, unsullied. Father Joe groaned with deep pleasure as the nuns held their breasts to his hungry mouth, their nipples stiff and protruding as their hands gripped his penis, now deep in Monica’s sucking mouth, their slim fingers barely able to encircle its mighty girth. “Bless us, Father, for we have sinned and we are going to sin again” he heard Sister Elizabeth’s husky voice. “We want to sin with you, Father Joe, for only then can we be sure of absolution. Will you sin with us, Father Joe?”“Fuck, yes, my daughters”, Joe heard himself say, “I’m ready to sin with you, I’m ready to help you find the way to the true love of Christ on earth. Suck my cock, suck my cock”, he gasped, his mouth still slavering on their stiff nipples, milky white breasts full of love, brown aureoles yielding to his mouth as their hands pulled Monica’s head up and down on his thrusting cock. “Fuck me, my daughters, fuck me, I’m ready to forgive you” he said as he surrendered to their delicious, lustful young bodies. “You first, |Sister Monica”, he heard Elizabeth say quietly, and Sister Monica immediately mounted his cock. She was still in her white robes but underneath, she wore nothing, and her wet vagina eased its way slowly down his big cock. Monica rocked back and forth gently as his cock burrowed into her pussy, inch by swollen inch until he felt it touch the back of her uterus. Monica began a slow rising and falling movement, allowing her cunt to slide up and down Joe’s cock. He saw the others reach down to grasp his shaft again, their hot fingers gripping the base of his penis, cupping his balls, as Monica rose and fell, impaled on him. She leaned back and quickly peeled her habit over her head, letting her big breasts, so far unseen by Joe, fall forward. Over the priest’s head the perpetual flame guttered and expired.
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Ignoring the omen, Father Joe reached up and seized Sister Monica’s breasts, which were full and heavy in his hands. Her nipples were stiff with desire. She cupped his hands on her breasts, squeezed them as he squeezed her and she began to moan as her orgasm mounted. Again and again her body rose and fell on his, her thighs gripping him, her cunt clasping and unclasping on his surging cock. Again and again she allowed his penis to almost escape her vagina, only to meet his savage upward thrust with a downward slamming motion. Suddenly she threw her head back and screamed, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh Christ, Oh God, Oh Jesus! Take me, take me, take me Jesus, I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours!” and she came with a mighty shudder, her cunt-muscles squeezing his cock, milking it harder and harder until Joe could no longer hold himself back and with a shout he let his cum burst inside the beautiful, full-breasted, soft-thighed young nun who screamed with pleasure over him before collapsing forward on him, her body and soul bared for the world and heaven to see. As Sister Monica lay panting on his chest, he felt Elizabeth and Angela move her gently aside, to expose his penis as it tried to escape to the safety of his scrotum. As one, they moved down on him and he felt their lips and tongues caress him. His penis was still strong and erect, still burdened with years of accumulated cum waiting for the opportunity of greeting the world, millions and millions of legionaries of Christ all with a mission to fulfil. Slowly but surely the two mouths worked to bring him to full strength again and he heard Sister Angela’s voice as she lifted her mouth to say “You go next, Sister Elizabeth, I’ll wait, I’ll have him later, Sister Monica needs me now”. Sister Elizabeth went on sucking greedily as Angela probed the open pussy of her sister in Christ, her fingers slipping in and out, with one hand teasing Elizabeth’s clitoris as with the other she stroked Monica’s wet thighs. Father Joe watched as Angela bent her head to Monica’s still-dripping cunt, licking her slowly as she fingered Elizabeth. Sister Elizabeth eased her way back up the bed and throwing her legs open, her arms back, she said to Father Joe, “Bless me again, Father. Bless me with your rod, bless me with your seed, put your mighty staff inside me, I want your cock inside me, I need your big cock inside me now!” She almost shouted the last word as Father Joe pulled himself over her and for the second time in his life he felt his cock swallowed by a cunt, wet and warm. He loomed over the young nun, driving his cock into her vagina smoothly, meeting no resistance although her cunt was tight around his engorged cock.
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Taking his weight on outstretched arms he began a steady thrusting movement, seeing Elizabeth’s breasts bounce under him as she joined in his movements, her hips thrusting upwards to meet his driving cock, her legs now locked tightly around him as he began to fuck her, his cock a pile-driver, slamming home again and again, a steel piston driving ever upward until he could feel his cock against the wall of her uterus and he heard her moan in his ear, “Fuck me, Father Joe, fuck me! Come on, Father Joe, take me home to Christ! Take me home!” He saw her eyes roll, felt her back arch as with a mighty push he let his second orgasm of this wondrous night explode inside the young nun’s cunt, filling her to overflowing with his hot cum, feeling her orgasm wash down his thighs as she too came with a silent scream in his ear. “Oh Christ! Oh Christ! Oh Christ!” he heard her whisper as he fell forward, crushing her, her fingernails raking his back, her legs still wrapped tightly around him, her vagina clenching his cock as she drained him of the last drop of cum. Beside them, Angela was still eating Monica’s cunt, her head deep between Monica’s legs as her body twisted and turned underneath, her hands gripping Angela’s hair tightly until with a shudder and a moan Monica came again and again, filling Angela’s mouth with cum. Smiling, Angela lifted her head to meet Joe’s eyes and he heard her whisper, “I’m next, Father Joe, I’m next”. With that she pulled Father Joe down to her crotch and for the first time in his life Joe saw a pussy up close and very personal. Her musky aroma filled his senses and his mouth moved closer, his tongue flicking tentatively across her swollen vulva. Her cunt was wet with desire and Joe saw her clitoris jutting out, although he had absolutely no idea what he was seeing. His instincts took over and he allowed himself to wallow in Angela’s wet sex, savouring every millimetre of her delicious soft cunt, feeling her fingers wrapped tightly in his hair as she pulled him deep into her. He slid his hands under her buttocks and lifted her up into his face and at the same time he felt Elizabeth’s mouth on his penis again, as she pulled and stroked him, her mouth sliding over his thickness, taking him deep to the back of her throat while for her part, Monica straddled Angela’s face as Angela’s head rose to Monica’s gaping cunt over her. Thus they kissed and licked, sucked and fucked, until Father Joe knew that he was ready to fuck Angela properly and she was ready too, her juices now flowing as wetly and as smoothly as Monica’s and Elizabeth’s. Again Joe’s instincts took over as he hauled Angela up and around, to lay her face down on the bed, with her face buried in Monica’s cunt. He lifted her hips to let Elizabeth slide beneath her before mounting her from behind, his cock pushing deep into her, aided by Elizabeth’s softly licking tongue. He saw Monica lift her legs to wrap her thighs around Angela’s head as, on his knees, he began to fuck the novice nun, softly and smoothly at first then harder and faster, in and out, in and out, feeling the excitement mount inside him and underneath him as Angela’s mouth slobbered on Monica’s wet cunt, Elizabeth’s sucking his balls as with stroke after driving stroke he drove his cock deeper and deeper into Angela, hearing her moan with pleasure as she called on her God, moaning “fuck me, fuck me, Oh God, Oh Christ, Oh Jesus, fuck me Father Joe, fuck me Father Joe, harder, harder, harder, more, more, don’t stop, don’t stop” until with a rush Joe burst inside her, his flood of cum meeting hers as she came, meeting Monica’s rush of cum in her mouth as under them, Elizabeth swallowed the overflow of cum that oozed from the young nun’s battered cunt. Exhausted at last, they lay together, Father Joe’s arms encircling them, all three novice nuns sleeping as he stroked their hair, touched them gently, kissed their breasts until finally he too fell asleep. When he woke some hours later he was naked, the red chasuble nowhere in sight.
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He didn’t know where he was for a moment or two. Was it all a dream? No, the sheets were still damp and there was the unmistakable smell of sex in the air. He went to the wardrobe and saw that all the vestments were gone. He heard bells chime outside and glancing at his watch he saw it was almost six. He showered and dressed hurriedly and made his way to the convent refectory. He looked around expectantly but did not see his companions of the night before. The Mother Superior greeted him, “Good Morning, Father Joe. Did you sleep well?” she asked with solicitude. “Very well, thank you”, he replied cautiously. “I’m glad to hear it, Father Joe. Apparently we will not have a full complement today, it seems Sisters Elizabeth, Angela and Monica are feeling a little tired this morning, they must have overdone things yesterday, getting everything ready for your arrival”. “That’s too bad, Mother. I’m sorry if I have caused any trouble”. “Don’t worry about it, Father Joe. Some of these novices just don’t have the stamina for it, not like in my day.
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By the way, the vestments for Mass are in the Sacristy, you’ll be wearing the red chasuble today I think, it’s the Feast Day of Joseph the Martyr”. Alarmed, Father Joe looked for a sign of awareness in Mother Superior but saw none, not a hint of knowledge escaped her eyes. A bead of sweat appeared on his brow. He quickly wiped it away. Maybe he would get through this after all. In fact, he was already looking forward to evening prayers. All through that week the pattern repeated itself – contemplation and prayer during the day, individual counselling and confession during the evening and every night brought a different trio of novice nuns to Father Joe’s willing and waiting bed. By the end of the week he had experienced, and enjoyed, every possible variation on human coupling in the book, and a great many never before contemplated or countenanced. Father Joe eventually lost count, although night by night his capabilities, his stamina, his powers of recovery and of innovation improved, to a level never before imagined. Finally it came time to present his last rousing sermon. He dedicated it to the concepts of denial and service and as his words rained down on the happy shining faces which drank in every syllable, he could not help thinking of how his cum had rained down on most of those faces, all swallowed with the same enthusiasm. For the first time that week, his cock did not stiffen in anticipation – his work here was done. He was to leave early the next morning and he was happy that he had probably fucked every fuckable nun in the convent. He would need the time anyway, to prepare his own confession, which he intended to offer the Bishop as soon as he possibly could. That night he packed his belongings in readiness for an early departure.
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Before getting into bed, he knelt to pray. He heard the door open quietly behind him and he turned to the sound, expecting to see once again a white-shrouded figure, if not more than one. He was horrified to see not a white habit but a black one. Mother Mary Magdalene, Mother Superior of the Convent, stood silently before him. “Hello, Mother. What can I do for you? I was just going to bed, it’s been a long day”“It’s been a long week, Father Joe. A very long week. Have you enjoyed your first retreat here with us?”“Yes, of course. I hope I’ve been able to do some good”, Joe replied, trying to be as humble as possible. Did she know how he had spent his nights?“I believe you have done a lot of good, Father Joe. Some of these young girls – well, let’s just say they need encouragement in their vocation”“Oh, I think they’re all perfectly well suited to the life here, I’m sure they’ll all be a credit to you when they leave”. “Oh, some of them will never leave, Father Joe. And there’ll always be a welcome here for you. Some of them have told me how much you have helped them with their doubts”Oh Christ, she knows everything, Joe thought to himself. “That’s right, Father Joe, I know everything.
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And tonight it’s my turn”, said the nun, turning to lock the heavy door behind her. “What do you mean?”, stuttered Father Joe. “I mean, it’s time for you to hear my confession, to give me my penance”, said the nun as she crossed the room. She took Joe’s hands and clutched them to her breast. “I have needs too, Father Joe, and I want you to help me with them”“What do you mean, Mother?”, said Joe, stepping back, only to feel the wall behind him. “I want your blessing too, Father. I want your special blessing”. The nun moved her hands down Joe’s body, reaching under his black soutane to find his penis. She unzipped his trousers and reached inside to pull his penis out. In spite of his nervousness, Joe felt himself become aroused and his penis stiffened in her hand. The nun dropped to her knees in front of the young priest and rubbed his penis against her cheek. “What a fine young man you are!” he heard her say, as she gently began to suck on his cock, which was by now hard as steel, veins throbbing as it achieved its full nine inches. “What a lovely big cock!” said the nun as she took him as deeply into her mouth as had any of Joe’s nocturnal visitors of the week past. As he looked down at her and saw her head rise and fall on him, he realised for the first time that maybe this Mother Superior was not as old or as dried up as he had assumed she was. Reaching down, he lifted her by the elbows and brought her to the edge of the bed.
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“Do you want me to hear your confession, Mother?” he asked. “Yes, Father Joe, of course. I have many sins to confess”“Alright. First of all, let me relieve you of these”. Joe lifted the nun’s arms and peeled her habit over her head. She was not naked under her habit as Joe had expected. Instead, she wore black stockings, suspenders, sheer black silk pants cut high on her fulsome thighs, an almost transparent black silk brassiere which lifted her full and heavy breasts to the priest’s excited eyes. For all the world, once stripped of her habit, she looked like a somewhat matronly whore, dressed to arouse the passions of a younger man. Unlike his adventures of nights past, which had all occurred in the dark of night, light flooded the room and Joe could savour the richness of the woman’s body which now lay before him. She was at most, maybe forty, and her body was full, breasts heavy but firm, belly flat, toned, legs and thighs well muscled. Under her arms, she was unshaven, and her pubic hair was a mass of black curls, a lush forest of sexuality. Father Joe thought of the many beautiful tight, young, almost hairless, cunts he had tasted, sucked and fucked that week and as he gazed down at the wide-open legs, the tangled bushy pussy of the dark-haired middle-aged nun, he was deeply aroused. He stroked his penis slowly until it oozed pre-cum. He dipped his finger to the glistening fluid and brought it to his lips. He dipped again, this time to the nun’s bushy cunt.
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He inserted his fingers gently, found her wet and he brought his fingers to his mouth again. Slowly and deliberately he dipped again and this time he made a sign on the nun’s vagina, slowly drawing his fingers across her clitoris. She gasped and reached for his penis. “I need your special blessing, Father”, she moaned, as she tugged gently on Joe’s cock. “Take me in your mouth, Mother Mary. Take my cock in your mouth”“Oh yes, I love cock, I want to suck your big cock, I want to taste your cum”, said the nun lewdly. “I want your big cock”Joe reached down and unclasped the nun’s bra. Her breasts once loosened were magnificent and Joe lifted them to his penis, letting his hard cock lie between them as the nun licked the head of his cock. “What beautiful breasts, Mary”, he said, feeling their weight, their fullness, their softness around his penis. She lifted her head and whispered “You can fuck my tits, Father Joe. I want to see your cum on my tits” and she lowered her head again to his penis. Joe held the nun by the head as he began to fuck her mouth, watching her head rise and fall with increasing speed, the sound of her slurping mouth rising to his ears as he stood before her, his hips thrusting to meet her mouth. She cupped his balls and squeezed them with one hand and began a smoothing jerking movement on his shaft with the other. Her mouth was wet with saliva, her lips glistened, her nipples were rigid and as he dropped his hand to touch her between her legs Joe felt her growing wetness there. She reached behind him to grip his buttocks, pulling him deeper into her throat as he twisted his fingers in her jet-black hair.
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Finally Joe could hold himself back no longer and he let his orgasm burst in Mother Mary Magdalene’s mouth. Her throat constricted as she felt his hot cum flow into her mouth, jet after jet of hot sticky cum forming a rope-bridge from the head of Joe’s cock to her open mouth. She milked his cock with her hand, squeezing every last drop from his engorged penis, until her mouth was full to overflowing and his cum dribbled down her chin, to fall on her big breasts. She laughed and rubbed Joe’s cum into her skin. “Ohhh bless me, Father, bless me with your holy cum” she laughed up at Joe. Joe pushed her back on the bed, saw her breasts fall to either side. “Come on, Father Joe, taste my pussy, I want your blessing on my pussy” She lifted her stocking-clad leg and pulled back her black silk pants to expose her cunt. Joe fell to his knees and moved his mouth to lick her. This was a mature woman, her body rich if not experienced, lush with promise, oozing sexuality in every sense. Joe dropped his head to the nun’s cunt and breathed deeply before licking her, his tongue probing until he found her swollen clitoris. She wrapped her warm smooth thighs around his head and pulled him toward her centre. Joe wallowed in her heat and wetness, eating her cunt with an enthusiasm and a skill unknown to him before this week. His penis was still hard and he pulled the nun up on the bed. “Are you ready, Mother Mary? Do you want me to fuck you?“Ohh yes, Father Joe, come on, fuck me, let’s see what you’re made of”, she laughed, as she held open the lips of her vulva. “Come on, put it in, put it in”.
Angry now at the nun’s laughter, Joe pulled her roughly to him. He kicked her legs apart and quickly rammed his cock into her cunt. “Let’s see how you like this, Mary”, he said with gritted teeth. He rammed his cock home again and again as he felt her legs tighten around him, silk stockings smooth on his skin, hard heels biting into his back. No doubt, she was ready for it, her cunt was dripping wet and Joe’s cock slid in and out with easy rapidity as he picked up the pace. She met him stroke for stroke but his stamina was greatly enhanced by his experiences of the week and he had mastered control of his orgasm, whereas Mother Mary Magdalene had not had the benefit of so much sex in the days past. Beneath him, the nun grunted and growled, panting, writhing, her strong arms grasping his shoulders, her breasts glued to his hairy chest, the sweat of raw hard sex joining their bodies as in and out, harder and harder, faster and faster, Father Joe rode her, her head threshing from side to side, her eyes closed, a crescendo of joy building in her loins and his. She was hungry for sex, ravenous for cock, more than ready to be fucked as hard and as often as Joe was able. But he was more than able and it was Mother Mary who came first, a howl of ecstasy bursting from her mouth as she threw her head back and came like a train, her cunt-juice flowing over Joe’s thighs as he continued to fuck the nun. Again and again she came, her fingernails biting into Joe’s strong back, her vagina squeezing Joe’s cock tightly until at last Joe let his orgasm break, filling the nun’s cunt to overflowing before he fell forward on top of her, feeling her gentle hands smooth the back of his neck and hearing her croon, “Thank you, Father Joe, thank you”. Joe left the Convent the next morning, driven to the bus by the same wizened nun who had picked him up. “Did ye have a good week, Father? Did you enjoy your little stay with us, did ye?”, said the old nun, driving like a lunatic, the back of the bus swaying in its own backdraft. “Will ye be back with us, d’ye think?”Oh, I’ll be back, Joe smiled to himself, I’ll be back. EPILOGUE“Yes, quite right, Mother”, said the Bishop. “Quite right.
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Oh yes, a very promising young man. Yes, plenty of stamina, just the man for the job. I hope your novices took to him? They did, eh? Good, good. Oh, yes, he’s very energetic, a real firebrand. Did you have a chat with him yourself? You did? Good, good. Oh, I remember my days out there as your chaplain very well, very well indeed. Oh yes, of course you can have him again next year. All right then, that’ll be fine, that’ll be fine. Give my regards to Sister Brigid, I remember her very well. Still driving like a who… like a maniac, I suppose? Like a whore?! Yes, I suppose that’s the word. Goodbye now, Mother Mary, goodbye”. The Bishop chuckled to himself as he put the ‘phone down. At least the altar boys would be safe, he thought, and Father Joe had finally found his true vocation. .
