1 comments/ 134484 views/ 23 favorites Nun Pussy By: 80niner It was a strange place, that ancient monastery perched precariously on the craggy mountainside. The structure was so old no one remembered the order that built it. Through the years, it became more and more isolated from the small village below, where the inhabitants became fewer and fewer. The monastery sat side by side next to a convent of cloistered nuns of a most strict and holy order. A thick stone wall symbolically separated the two orders and they were mutually exclusive of one another. The abbey and the monetary fell into disrepair and over the ensuing centuries fell into near ruin. Ceremonies, rites and their liturgies changed until certain holy rituals became unrecognizable. Only occasionally, was a young girl accepted from the village to be trained into the sisterhood and just as seldom was a young man introduced into the solemn order of brothers. Thus were these walled retreats divided, half masculine monetary, half a cloister for the Holy Sisters of the Virgin Faith. Entering the year of their Lord, 1369, fewer than a dozen able bodied monks inhabited one side of the divided courtyard and perhaps as few sacred sisters the other. Due to their isolation the original rites had their faith became altered. Their rituals widely diverged from the original intent. So seldom did the opposite sects see each other that knowledge of the other’s differences were but mere inferences alluding to rumors of glimpses of bodies long dead and secret manuscripts that depicted such couplings as only infidels might indulge in. Young men, what few arrived, entered the monetary at a tender age and had no knowledge of women save an occasional glance at Easter of the totally covered nuns of the convent beyond the wall. Women, when they were mentioned, were spoken of as instruments of the devil, hideously ugly of body, and a corruption to all men’s souls. Young Zachary was the product of his environment. Now in his twentieth year and the third year of his priestly education, he neared his confirmation date. Since his fifteenth year he had been assigned to Brother Bartholomew and so spent a weekly session in the good Brother’s cell massaging the old monks prostrate until he erupted his manly effusion deep within the old monk’s bowels. Afterward, he sipped of the old monk’s semi-rigid member until he weakly spurted his bitter seed into the younger one’s gullet. Zachary no longer looked forward to these weekly sessions and his penetration of the old man’s puckered, but fuck-loosened, rear opening. From time to time, the senior monks, wandering among the ruins, prevailed upon the young man to bend forward, hands on knees and accommodate their stout weapons between his muscular cheeks and into his small opening and up his tender rectum to their full length. This evening, at dusk, he pressed forward, hands upon a low place on the wall separating the Abbey from the Monastery. He grunted as the older monk stood behind his raised cassock and, without foreplay, buried his thick prick to the short hairs, in Zachary’s tight bottom. The good Father’s naked loins thumped rhythmically against the young man’s bare buns. “Please,” muttered The young man. “Spare me such violence. You go at it much to roughly.” Brother Bradford snorted as he continued his fast ins and outs. “Hush. I take you no more roughly than I was often taken when I shared your station.” “I could enjoy it if only you were not so violent,” protested the younger one. “Hush, you will call the attention of yon approaching whores from beyond the wall. They will hear you.” Zachary lifted his head to observe a swinging lantern, a lighted candle within, then discerned a dark hooded figure approaching one of the two small sheds situated near the wall. “They come toward us?” “They visit yonder sheds, nightly to raise their habits and attend to their pissings and shittings,” said Brother Bradford. “I should dearly love to see,” said the young Zachary, “a sainted sister splashing down her holy water.” “No!” grunted the monk as he punished the young man’s arsehole. “It would be disgusting. Nuns are frightfully deformed and ugly in their pissing place. They lack the grace and form of a good monk’s fine prick.” He sawed in and out quickly until he became quite breathless and spurted his surging juices deep within the young man’s bowels. Brother Bradford let his cassock fall about him and turned away, leaving his young charge dripping from his rear passage as the two approaching nuns reached their goal in the fast developing darkness. *** Sister Maria Clare, making her nightly pilgrimage, took the path from the convent to the secluded outhouses reserved for the cloistered nuns. From the path, she caught glimpses of the monastery beyond the ivied stone wall. For a moment she thought she detected a movement in the shadows but concluded it must be her imagination. Sister Maria Clare swung the small lantern around and saw nothing. The good sister continued down the path and came upon a young girl holding her shielded candle and fearing to further traverse down the dark path alone. The youthful novitiate appeared flustered as the nun approached. “You are new here,“ said the older nun, who, in truth was but thirty-four. “Sister, I am troubled and confused at seeing the shadows move beyond the wall,” blurted young Rachael. “Those shapeless shapes truly frighten me.” “You might have glimpsed a visiting brother’s outdoor atonement. Perhaps he was relieving himself and inadvertently exposed a portion of himself.” The older nun smiled, good naturedly. “What could a good father be display that should so upset me?” the young lady asked innocently. “No. I saw two of them glued together, front to back. And one rode the other as a donkey mounts an ass.” “I dare suggest another species of ass was mounted,” said Maria Clare. “I am told the brothers practice unholy rites best left unmentioned,” said Maria Clare. “Please relate what upset you so?” “Their antics recalled a book I chanced upon in the Mother Superior’s library while dusting,” said Rachael. “She apparently dozed off while reading and on awaking did not return the volume to the forbidden shelves.” “What books does the holy mother read these days?” “Perhaps I should make no mention of it. It was shocking in the extreme and I know so little of carnal things.” “You tweak my curiosity, strangely. Speak more of this book as we walk.” Maria Clare gently led the girl toward the small, dark buildings. “A big book, very old, with fine leather binding, filled with depictions of men uncovered. Strange, stiff instruments jut outward from between sturdy legs. Some accommodate those instruments in their mouths while others thrust them into each other’s backsides. Those illustrations made me feel most strange.” “How odd,” said the older woman. “This apparatus between their legs, describe how you viewed it.” “A bar of angry flesh projecting from a nest of hair similar to the mossy growth around a most secret portion of my person. I presume such a growth of curls appears on others as well.” “You presume correctly,” said the older woman, “at least that is my experience.” “You have viewed such secret places of others.” “I have observed such,” conceded Maria Clare. “I know nothing those mysteries and I dare not observe myself too closely in my mirror lest I sin greatly against my own person.” “Tis a small sin.” The older woman smiled and reached out to touch the lass’s hand. “Perhaps in the pissing shed we can reveal to each other those hidden parts.” The girl blushed in the darkness. “Surely that would be a grievous sin.” “Only if you believe it such.” The nun raised her lantern to view the other’s face. “You are a pretty girl and very new to our order. Here, we leave that other world behind. Inside, we shall raise our habits and compare our curly treasures by candle light.” “You enjoy making such comparisons?” The nun smiled wryly and nodded. Though not yet forty, she appeared, to the novitiate, ancient and worldly wise. “I have observed the other sister’s in their unfrocked state. I have, in turn, revealed my hirsute embossment to them. It is not an act one mentions in confession.” “And all possess that hairy nest covering their slits?” “All cunts are so adorned unless shorn of such adornment as I understand some holy orders demand.” “Such admission excites me. I am becoming moist in that place others speak of only with shame.” “We shall lift the skirts of your habit to ascertain if all goes well in that region.” “I shall die of shame, yet I am most eager to be told I am normal.” ”You will suffer only pleasure, I promise.” “Pray, good sister, might I examine you?“ “You will find me most compliant in such a display.” “And no one will disturb us?” “Most sisters, by eventide, have done with their pissings here and found something or someone to occupy their hours of contemplation before finding sleep.” The sister and her new friend paused at the door of one of the two single holed privies. Maria Clare opened the door and bid the girl to enter. “To my knowledge, it has always been forbidden to share such place.” “Here, some deeds are not spoken of but also are not condemned.” The good sister latched the door behind them and hung the lantern on a peg. She bid the girl place hers on the floor. The two lights in the small space made the enclosure around that single hole in the floor quite bright. Maria Clare hoisted her skirts high and stood a moment to allow the cool air surround those parts that had been so heavily sheathed. She squatted,her skirts held high as she voided her full bladder. “I am glad you go first.” The girl, viewed the nuns naked center, “I am not used to an audience when letting down my water.” “You must be rid of your inhibitions. Bring your skirts high, I say.” The girl blushed as the habit was raised and parted. The drawstring was loosened and her heavy drawers fell to the floor. The nun nudged the cotton pantaloons with her toe. “Should someone approach, which I do no expect, stand quickly and let your habit fall to cover you.” “I feel so wicked, exposing my core.” “Keep your skirts high to keep them dry,” ordered the nun. The young woman complied, nervously. Long black stockings reached halfway up rounded, milky thighs that appeared even whiter in contrast to the dark cotton. Higher, a light brown, curly triangle defined her sex. From the rear, the white columns of her thighs ended in two bulbous cheeks of such proportions and rounded beauty it quite took the older woman’s breath away. Novitiate Rachael’s smooth, tender buttocks were quite the prettiest Maria Clare had encountered in the convent. Much more lovely than she might have imagined. The older woman nodded approvingly. “In this convent we dispense with under garments. We enjoy the openness of no restrictions there.” “There?” “That bushy spot you so beautifully display.” “I am most shy. Yet I expose myself that I may watch you bare yourself.” “Now let us do what we came for. Let your yellow piss gush freely from that narrow gash between those lovely thighs.” Rachael raised the heavy skirts high to squat over her side of the open hole. Marvelously formed thighs, smooth as silk and fine as carved marble, parted before the older woman. Maria Clare’s eyes fixed on the tufts of light brown, mossy triangle at the apex of thighs and sightly rounded belly. “Lovely,” breathed Maria Clare. “So lovely, I could kiss it.” “You do not believe it ugly?” “In no manner.” “I strain to make water. Though I am full to overflowing and ache to let it fly, it seems I cannot,” moaned the girl. “May I touch you? Perhaps I can tease the flow to begin.” “I ache for your touch. But it is wrong.” “Wrong? Where there is beauty there can be no wrong. You are truly lovely.” Rachael lowered her eyes as the good sister’s hand approached. “Then I accept your offer.” Sister Maria Clare ran her fingers up the silky thigh and fluttered them through the hairy foliage camouflaging the squirming girl’s slit. “You tickle me so, ” giggled the embarrassed girl.” “Should I leave off?” “. . . it must be a grievous sin.” “I know other caresses that often enhances the sensation.” “I pray you’ll reveal them to me?” “As best I can.” Maria Clare’s fingers massaged the girls tender crack. The moist channel became dewy. The fingers slickened, as the swollen lips parted, and entered the squirming girl. “Oh! What are you doing to me?” “Opening you to become a woman.” “. . . sooo good. This has to be most sinful.” “A sin, you may confess only in my presence.” “And you’ll absolve me?” “Always.” “Sister! I must burst. The pressure must be eased. You loosen me till I must let down a flood that has been dammed.” “Piss,” urged Sister Maria Clare. “Let your golden stream flow. Let us pass our holy water together in this unholy place.” So saying, Sister Maria Clare, her skirts high, displayed her red, moss covered crotch. She squatted, facing the girl. As her lower lips parted to reveal the darker pink lining, her gushing torrent splashed into the pool below. With the onset of the good sister’s release, Rachael caused her own cloudburst of golden showers to commense. Each watched the other until the last drop dripped into the pool. Maria Clare leaned forward across the evil smelling pool. Her warm breath warmed the girl’s lips. “I’ll kiss away your sins. Later I will lead you to passion’s gate where the angels sing.” The older woman’s tongue laved the girl’s in a most intimate way and her lips closed about that slender, stiffened tube of mouth flesh. When Maria Clare’s fingers reached out to touch and again invade that most sensitive of places, Rachael forgot sin. She knew only the moment. Almost unbearable feelings expanded within her. Those tremendous bursts of sensation included blinding lights behind closed lids, and an interminable succession of contractings and relaxings of internal musculature she had no idea she possessed. Her hips shot forward and she nearly fell. She frantically clutched the woman across from her and screamed out her very first climax. They were fortunate that she did not alert the entire convent with her screams. They stood, legs splayed, totally open, breathing hard, pressed together. The older woman touched the girls brow and and brushed aside a stray curl. “Are you all right?” “I never knew such joy existed.” Rachael looked down at her open, naked loins. “It is pretty, isn’t it.” “Very.” “Now,” said the girl as she stood, shakily. “it is time that I examine that most secret portion of you.” The older woman was far from unwilling. She held her habit high, exposing plump thighs and black stockings that gartered above her knees. Otherwise, the woman was naked to her navel where the belted cord kept the black habit from rising further. A profusion of matted curls, far beyond anything Rachael imagined, formed a totally unexpected triangle of bristly, carroty red. Maria Clare parted her thighs to reveal all to her young friend. “Do what you will,” said the mature woman. “I am yours.” The young woman could not keep her hands from the treasure before her. They roamed freely over the nun’s exposed parts. Rachael poked and prodded, explored each crook and cranny. When she knelt, and the good sister urged her lips closer, she used her nimble tongue to explore those secret places Marie Clare opened for her. When the older woman tensed and froze in ecstasy, Rachael lifted her head and smiled. “Do I please you?” ”Very much.” “And did I absolve you of your sin as you did mine?” “Most beautifully,” gasped the nun. “I quite forgot,” said the girl. “I forgot it was a sin. It was so beautiful.” *** So as not to be seen leaving the single holed shelter, Rachael was urged to leave first. Still somewhat excited, Maria Clare felt the urge to relieve herself of the remaining drops in her bladder before returning to her cell. She listened to the hiss of her water splash into the fetid waste far below. She always found something sensual in the release of those cascading fluids. Shivering in the grasp of after-passion, she reflected on the novitiate and their mutual exploration minutes earlier. The girl was innocent and quite beautiful. She must encourage her. She touched her tender place to rid it of a few stray drops and added an extra blot to remind her of young Rachaels tongue. Preparing to leave, she was certain she heard something. Looking around, she spied the knothole and the movement of something beyond. Quickly, she stepped outside and moved to the narrow space between that shed and the next. There she recognized a young man in a monk’s cowl as Sebastian, an apprentice to the Monks beyond the wall . The lad of twenty had his robes parted and his hand moved rapidly on a dark object he manipulated between his legs. “What are you doing there?” Maria Clare, not a small woman, blocked his way as he hastily clropped his robes.” “Nothing, Good Sister.” “You spied on me,” accused the nun.” “No,” lied the obviously nervous young man. “You shall be punished. I recognize you and shall inform the Holy Mother who shall inform the brothers. They will administer a strapping such as you shall not soon forget.” “I beg you sister. Do what you will with me. I promise not to do it again.” Tears ran down the young man’s face. “Please. Do not inform the Abbot of my transgression.” “You will accept my punishment without question?” “I swear it, Sister.” “Why?” demanded the nun. “Why do you spy on me?” “I was curious,” whined the boy. “I wished to see how a woman is made.” Maria Clare sharply inhaled the night air. “Were you satisfied?” “Not well,” confessed the boy. The flickering light and the knothole was not in a good place to view very much.” “Who else did you see?” “I only saw a young girl leave and hurry up the walk as I approached.” “And what did you view of my person?” “Only that you have fine legs and a most beautiful bum.” “You saw more than you admit,” accused Maria Clare. “I felt strange eyes on my person while attending to an intimate matter too personal for any stranger to view.” “I prayed I could be invisible and be inside to view your lovely charms,” confessed the boy. “I feel you have viewed far too much of what I conceal beneath my habit,” snorted the nun. “Fore and aft, I fear I possess few secrets unknown to your eyes. You must be punished, severely.” The boy stared at the ground, displaying full remorse. “Viewing the loveliness of your revealed person is my reward for any punishment you may inflict on this humble servant.” He looked up to meet the nun’s eyes. “A sight such as rivals the gates of heaven itself.” “Very well.” The nun smiled in spite of herself. “On your honor, You will report to me in the catacombs beneath the convent. Tomorrow eve, I will visit such punishment as I see fit upon your backside.” The nun looked, in no way, as strong as the brothers who wielded their straps on bare posteriors, regularly. His shoulders sagged in resignation. “I accept your punishment as you see fit to apply it.” “So be it,” said Maria Clare. “Tomorrow, you will wear nothing on your person beneath those robes.” *** Sister Maryam, the right hand of the The Good Mother, awaited Maria Clare when she returned to her cell. The younger nun bowed before the senior sister and kissed the hem of her robe. “There is a new girl in the convent ready to join our order,” said Sister Maryam. “Novitiate Rachael?” said Maria Clare, “We met on the path to the out houses this eve.” “The Holy Mother wishes you to guide her that she may stay pointed to the direction of our aims.” Nun Pussy Ch. 02 Sister Maria Clare led the youth into the dank cell beneath the convent where she knew they would not be disturbed or heard through the thick dungeon walls. She bade him lift his robes to the middle of his back and bare his lean buttocks to her. From the nun’s expression, the boy knew he would gain no mercy. He was thankful his fear had caused his cock to shrivel until it was nearly invisible. He feared the reaction if this holy nun caught him with an erection. The stern woman placed a hand on his back and bade him to bend forward, hands on knees. Her heavy black skirts swirled the warm air around his bared buttocks as she moved. Sister Marie Clare stood slightly to his left and turned her body to an angle she could control her swing as the flat leather strap sailed through the air and landed flush on his tender flanks. Zachary yelped in spite of himself. “No one will hear you,” assured the nun. A second blow landed full on target. Zachary felt the breath leave him as the full burn of the first two strokes took effect. To his shock, the good nun’s left hand sneaked to his crotch and grasped his lengthening instrument. “What’s this?” she demanded in feigned surprise. The boy trembled. “Answer me.” “My, my cock.” “Cock? is that a proper name?” “It’s what we call it.” “We?” “All the good brothers.” “All brothers possess this. . . this thing?” “Yes Ma’am.” “It has a purpose?” “Yes Ma’am. Men and boys, they piss through it.” “Her fingers moved the loose skin back and forth on the boy’s organ as it grew firmer in her hand. ”And you believe that women do that differently?” “I have heard so.” He felt himself grow in her hand and willed himself to stop but with the fire in his tail brought a surplus of blood to the region and with the movement of her fingers exciting him, he grew quite stiff. “That was why I peeked at you. I wished to confirm those rumors.” “It makes a fine handle to keep you in place,” commented the Nun. “And did you satisfy your curiosity as to the shades of difference in man and woman?” “No Sister. Not completely.” The strap descended again though this time not nearly so hard. Without loosening her hold, she continued adding a number of lighter blows while her fingers gripped him firmly. Now he became increasingly disturbed that he might spurt something nasty and slick in her hand. That would totally embarrass him and most certainly bring a continuing rain of blows from the stern but pretty nun. “This thing of yours, does it often swell to such dimensions?” “Just sometimes.” muttered Zachary.” “Can you tell me why this happens?” “No Ma’am. Not exactly.” “When does it happen?” “Most often when I entertain impure thoughts.” “Impure thoughts? Nasty thoughts?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “These nasty thoughts, what are they about?” “I dare not tell tell.” “Then I must strap you further.” “About women, what they hide between their legs and how much curly hair grows there.” “You believe all women grow such hair in that place?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “And you wished to satisfy yourself that Sisters of the church are so made?” The lad nodded. The woman dropped the strap and touched his shoulder. “You may straighten for a moment.” Zachary straightened then started to let his robes fall.” “Leave that strange object exposed. I mean to inspect it further.” With one hand disappearing into her voluminous robe, she bent to inspect the boy’s erect penis. “This is used for pissing, you say?” Zachary nodded. He did not know how much he dared tell this black hooded woman who put the fear of fire and brimstone into him as well as a fire in his burning buns. Still she sought knowledge that, because of her order, had been kept from her. “Men on the outside do things to women with it and women have babies.” “How is this accomplished?” asked the woman. “It is, I hear, placed in a tight hole between the woman’s legs.” Marie Clare spoke in almost a whisper. “Have you done this?” “No Ma’am.” “But you would like to?” “That would be nice. Before I came here the girls ran from me.” The woman nodded. “It must be uncomfortable, this stiffness. Does it remain or does it, sometimes, become docile?” “Sometimes.” She placed her mouth close to his ear and whispered, “You will mention this to no one.” “No Ma’am.” “Not a word.” “I promise.” The nun nodded. ”You have a strong male body. I would study it further.” The boy’s eyes widened. “I heard The Holy Sisters have no interests in the temporal body.” The woman smiled. “We may both learn much if we proceed carefully.” “I will act so no one could ever suspects.” Her fingers caressed the smooth flesh where she had strapped him, then moved once more to tease his erect cock. “Do you believe an older sister, one in her thirties, might possess a strange hole among those curls you mentioned?” The boy nodded. “I believe it is so. Surely the Brothers much increase the size and rigidity of their weapons when speaking of such an opening.” “You have observed the Holy Brothers in a state of undress?” “Yes, Ma’am.” “Why does this occur?” “After mass one brother or another often leads me to an ante room where secret rites are performed.” What sort of rites?” “Doings I have been cautioned never to speak of. I would be sorely punished for revealing the Brother’s secrets.” ”As you will be punished further in this place if you do not reveal all.” The nuns voice softened. “I will speak to no one of it. There are deep secrets we may share if you are totally forthcoming.” “Secret for secret?” Maria Clare nodded and smiled agreement. “I confess to possession of such a secret cavity hidden beneath my curls. What else do you think is there.” “A place you piss from?” He wrinkled his brow as if he had committed blasphemy. “Do the sisters do that?” The nun smiled wanly. “Do what? Piss?” The boy nodded. “Of course they do.” She continued, “They drink, therefore there must be an outlet for all that water.” Zachary nodded gravely. “I. . . I wondered about that. I wish to see such a fountain gush forth from that place.” “You have seen much such pissing when the brothers relieve themselves?” questioned the nun. “Often,” said the boy, “They also perform secret services to relieve themselves or each other of a more precious fluid in their most holy rites.” “You say the Brothers take you to the ante room, they reveal themselves, naked, to you and perform such rites on you?” “They are holy fathers.” said the boy. “You must understand, what they have projecting down there is far larger than that you clasp in your hand.” The nun gasped. “Is that possible?” “Many of the brothers possess huge prongs. Father Ted tells us such size comes from the daily exercise of it .” “Exercise? What exercise do they perform?” “Most vigorous, fast movements with the hand.” The boy demonstrated by moving her fist up and down his stiff projection. “It feels most strange. I would like providing such an exercise,” said the sister. “I will manipulate you so that I might understand this process thoroughly.” The boy moaned softly as the soft hand gripped him tightly and continued the movement he had shown her. “Do it slowly for a while so the good feelings grow gradually. That is how Father Waldo does it.” The nun slowed her hand and moved the fingers gently up and down the the boy’s stiff rod. She adapted to the rhythm easily and enjoyed the task immensely. “You have viewed Brother Waldo in such a state as you now enjoy? You have exercised his person in this manner?” “Often,” said Zachary. But there are other processes he enjoys more.” “And what would that be?” “He swallows it to the short hairs and licks my uncapped crown most rapturously. It is heaven when I offer up my essences and he swallows most greedily.” “He takes that monster into his mouth and swallows all that you project?” “Easily and others that grow longer and thicker.” “I cannot believe it.“ “I have managed most of his huge organ,” confessed the boy, proudly, “and I have swallowed his mighty load without choking.” “He imposes himself on you in such a manner?” The boy nodded, innocently. “At times, we arrange ourselves in a way that we may sip of each other‘s juices mutually. It is most delightful, giving and receiving.” “Most certainly,” said the nun, “I should like to view such a performance.” “It is not possible,” said the boy, simply. “Too bad,” said the woman. Her hand worked unceasingly on the ever increasing stiffness of his throbbing member. “I have this urge I cannot explain. I desire to pay homage to this delightful object as you relate the good father’s do.” “Then, by all means, you must,” moaned the boy. “I suffer great distress from your toying with it. I must release those essences you now churn with your fist.” “Surely it is a grievous sin,” replied the sister, “to allow such an object into one’s mouth.” “Oh no,” said the boy, hastily. “The Good Brothers explain that all is permitted when such practice is by those blessed by the faith. Surely, Good Sister, you have been blessed as such a person.” “I am so blessed,” said Sister Maria Clare. “I am convinced that it is holy calling that urges me toward the knowledge I yearn for. I am not immune to pleasures of the flesh. I must yield.” “Please do,” urged the boy. “It is called sucking the cock.” “I must,” breathed the sister. She feel to her knees without loosening the hold on her prize. She touched the smooth, purple flesh of the cock’s crown, tentatively, with her pointed tongue and tasted a drop of the clear, salty lubricant emitting from the winking eye. His taste was not unpleasant. She engulfed the fleshy instrument and closed her lips firmly about it. Her teasing tongue circled the smooth, mushroom shaped head. From that moment, her mouth was too full, too animated to question further. Her arms encircled his hips and her hands clasped his thrusting buttocks as the boy sought to force more hard meat into the woman's gullet. She moaned and struggled to accommodate him as she was overtaken by the lustfulness of her actions. The boy quite lost control. Words poured from his mouth along with his moans and the words were not fit subjects for a cloistered nun’s ears. “Suck it!” he moaned. “Oh Jesus and Mary, swallow my cock and drink its efflusions as a sacrament.” His hand clutched her hooded head and he forced himself into her mouth until his pubic hairs tickled her lips and his loins were hidden between the wipples of her headpiece. He felt her fingers close on his clenched ass cheeks as she fought to draw more of him into her throat though her air passages were nearly clogged by his throbbing cock. The feeling was one of near suffocation. Thus Maria Clare tasted her first male offering, a sacrament she swallowed most greedily. The nun appeared as in a stupor. The boy eased her back and lay her out on her back onto the hard stone floor . Maria Clare gasped for air and was unaware of anything beyond the bitter taste of the boy’s sperm filling her mouth. She was hardly aware of his parting and easing the heavy skirts upward until well past her waist. He opened the pale, white thighs that loomed larger, whiter, softer than he imagined. Though aware that women were created differently, he was not certain of the precise manner of that difference. He had absorbed only rumors and tales from the monks as they pulled each other’s cocks. He was certain few of those men had experienced a view as now lay before his eyes. He reveled in those two round pillars of flesh, thighs softer, rounder than any brother he had lain with. He bent over that pale, rounded belly where those magnificent thighs joined. At the juncture lay a large triangle of mossy, red, curls covering that part so well he saw nothing beneath it. Of one thing he was certain, no man cock existed there. “The woman stirred. “What is happening to me?” “You have taken me to heaven and I was seeking ways to repay you.” “A cool draft plays at my nether regions as though I were unnaturally exposed.” gasped the nun. “I sought to confirm that place you have secreted there,” said the boy, honestly. “You dare such an intrusion on my blessed person?” “You most thoroughly examined me,” countered the boy. “I hope you do not mind.” “It is most unseemly to view that unworthy portion of a Holy Sister’s unholy anatomy.” “Why so,” asked the boy. “I find it most lovely.“ “As you know, it is from that place I must piss daily, often more than once” confessed the nun. “Therefore it is deemed unclean.” “Surely you must wash it as we are taught by the fathers to wash ourselves in all places.” “And monthly, I must confess, to a women’s shame, that poor place between our thighs bleeds most plentifully. It is our curse.” “I see no sign of it,” said the boy. “I have not sighted an opening.” “It is there, I assure you. Having gone so far, I will part my legs that you shall view my open, woman’s wound. But you must promise,” gasped the nun, “that never, on pain of death, will you breathe a word of this.” “On my mother’s grave I swear,” said the boy.” “Then gaze closely.” Maria Clare further parted her thighs. There appeared before him, a widening slit that slowly revealed a slick, pink opening hidden deep in the thick wiry hair, a place that begged for exploration. Maria Clare moaned as his finger entered. “A man should not invade that place.” “I must see it all,” said the boy. “How deep does this passage go?” “It is said to have no bottom,” said the nun. “Surely no finger can touch its end.” “Then it resembles that hole in back, which we possess in common.” “I have no contact with that place other than to wipe it well after shitting.” “It has a second purpose,” said the boy. “The good fathers sheath their randy weapons there and bless that passage with their efflusions much as they spurt it into our gullets. It is good, Brother Bart proclaims, for soothing a brother’s prostrate.” “That is possible?” asked the astounded nun, “such a prodigious instrument invading a small opening such as a man must possess?” “Though at first painful, it most surely happens. Father Ted has so invaded me. I have also favored Father Leo’s back passage in such a manner. He desires it that way most often. Each brother possesses his own preferences.” “So,” said the nun, “if this act is accomplished between men, should not a man’s, cock you called it, accommodate a woman in a like manner?” “Most surely it should,” agreed the boy, “as your mouth relieved me as sweetly as any good brother who has swallowed me thus.” “Then tell me.” Sister Maria Clare rose to a sitting position. How is this coupling accomplished?” “I would gladly demonstrate,” offered the boy. “My poor body is most sorely agitated,” said the nun. “Perhaps such an act might ease my predicament. Invade me, I beg you, with this stiff thing you call cock.” “Arrange your self on your knees and turn from me,” instructed the boy. “Now bend forward and present your pretty rump raised high.” “’Tis most embarrassing,” said the nun, assumed the position. It is as though you were about to thresh me.” “You have been so threshed?” Maria Clare confessed. “It becomes a serious part of a nun’s training in humility.” The boy surveyed those broad, bulbous buns, the rounded curvatures. He parted the deep central cleft with his hands to reveal the crinkled rosette of her most private hole, one, until now, unexamined by human eyes. He prodded, experimentally with one finger and trailed it across the tender opening. The pucker immediately tightened. He wet his finger liberally with spittle and anointed the puckering portal. “I should like to lay a few slaps on two such lovely white pillows.” “Then do so quickly, but only a few to warm me properly.” She wriggled her big bottom enticingly. “It is something I sometimes crave.” The boy laid half a dozen smacks on each quivering cheek and the nuns big bottom absorbed them hungrily. “The boy again parted the big cheeks and inserted a saliva slickened finger. “That feel very strange.” She grunted as he thrust into the opening. “It feels so large.” “One finger,” said the boy. He sawed it in and out in slow, measured strokes. “A most pleasant sensation,” murmured the nun. “I am sure the larger object will please me when you insert it.” “It will pain you,” said the boy. “Sometimes, it hurts a lot.” “We are taught that pain leads to gain,” said the nun.” “I have been told that is so.” “Such as when I spanked your bare bottom. Did not the rewards of that spanking lead to a far greater pleasure?” “That is true,” the boy marveled. “The brothers have introduced that principle to all the altar boys but how do you know that such spanking leads to pleasure?” “Get on with it,” urged the nun. “Put that weapon to me, for that it surely is. Give it to me in that hole from whence comes shit.” “Speak more,”urged the boy, “of your big, naked bottom being spanked.” “It is a secret.” “After this, we no longer have no secrets.” “We sisters often take turns at reddening our bare bottoms.” “In secret?” “Of course.” “Even the Mother Superior?” “She lays it on most heavily.” “And dare you punish her?” Maria Clare nodded vigorously. “She insists upon it. Her broad bottom, far larger than mine, accepts harsher punishment for longer than any other sister.” “And does she grow her hair more plentifully in that place where you have such an abundance?” “I am sure she could have much more if she so desired.” “But she does not?” In spite of her agitation at the boys finger moving relentlessly into her fundament, the nun giggled. “You must never mention it.” “I swear.” “Her mount, she keeps it shaved.” “Shaved?” “Bald as a babe’s.” “Does it not look strange?” “Though she is much older, she must be seventy, it is quite lovely. We sisters pay homage each week.” “Homage?” “As you confess to letting the good brothers enter your orifices with their stiff objects, we press our lips to the good mother’s lower lips and pledge devotion with our tongues.” “Your tongue comes into play?” “At such a time one cannot not keep it inactive.” “And the taste?” “It is not unpleasant. No more than yours.” “How I would love to view such a demonstration of your devotion.” “Even the thought of it would be forbidden.” “Does the Holy Mother reciprocate your devotions to her.” “She warms our bottoms most thoroughly then sits back to watch the rest of us alleviating the passions we have aroused.” “It seems, there is little variance between the men and the women of this holy order.” “The woman moved her ample bottom from side to side. “That place where you have placed your finger cries for a larger instrument. I am ready to withstand your assault.” “Brace yourself.” The boy applied liberal globs of saliva to his pulsing penis and touched it to the place where he had withdrawn his fingers. “Bore on,” gasped Sister Maria Clare between clenched teeth. ”Ass-fuck,” breathed the boy. He forced his weapon past the anal muscle on his first thrust and it closed strongly behind the head.” “Mother of God!” moaned the poor nun. “You are ripping me apart.” “It only seems so for a little while,” said the boy. He pressed a second inch into the woman’s tight, rear passage. “I am ruined forever,” cried the nun. “Surely I will shit blood from that place after your assault.” “No blood,” assured the boy. “I told you it only hurts at first.” Nun Pussy Ch. 02 “Such pain, I did not expect. Please stop,” implored the nun. “I’ll go slow,” promised the boy as his belly touched the warm, protruding buttocks that bulged softly toward him. His hands settled on her hips to hold the advantage of the depth he had sunk into her hot back passage. He pressed forward slowly, knowing of her pain but certain that she would reap the rewards later and thank him.” “You are killing me,” moaned the nun beneath him. “I am surely filled past all endurance.” “It would only seem so,” assured the boy. “Soon you will know the force and pleasure of it.” “No! I cannot go on. Take it out, I beg you.” “It is fully entered.” gasped the boy. “Let us rest and while you absorb the fullness of it.” ”Surely my poor bottom hole is sorely stretched and filled to overflowing,” said the tortured woman. “Do you tell me you have suffered such agonies and yet you continue to accept the good fathers in such a painful manner?” “It is so,” said the boy. “The pain eases and becomes a feeling compared to no other. The in and out movements begin and the shitting passage accepts the gift it enfolds most joyously.” Zachary pressed into the giving of the full buttocks and gloried in their softness as he compared them to the stark, hairy buns of Father Leo. He set himself to enjoy the kneeling nun’s tight hole. Her nether regions were coming alive and moving experimentally, though cautiously, on that stiff pole boring deep within her. “See,” he questioned, “Is it not better already?” “There are feelings other than pain,” admitted the woman.” Zachary withdrew half his rod and slowly reinserted it. “Assfuck,” he said. “What did you say?” “We are ass-fucking,” said the boy. “Ass is most surely a nasty word,” said the nun so the other word must be base also. Did I understand you to say fucking?” “It is the word for the in and out movements we now enjoy. Does it not feel good?” The large, soft bottom twitched and swayed beneath him. “Truly, beneath the pain, it does create a pleasant tickling. I like the gentle stroking. It is called fucking, you say?” “A word you must use aloud only in private,” cautioned the boy, “when we are having a fuck which is what this is.” “Truly a magical word,” she panted. “I can hardly stand it, this fucking. It is breathtaking.” The lad breathed heavily . He increased the speed and the length of his stroke. The nun answered each thrust once she found the rhythm. “I will come soon,” promised the boy, “I will anoint your bowels.” “Then I will have been fucked and anointed with your affluence at two ends on this glorious day,” marveled Maria Clare. “You may suffer a tender throat and a sore bottom but they will heal and you will be none the worse.” The boy’s hips increased the tempo. Soon he was slamming, full speed, into the nun’s plump, white bottom and bouncing back. Suddenly, he pressed as hard and as far as he could into that tight, back passage and froze. “Ass fuck!” he moaned, “I’m coming!” Maria Clare pressed back against his ticklish pubic hairs and felt the throbbing as his hot juices flowed into the depths of her bowels. She felt her own slick juices flowing from that neglected font of her more feminine hole. Her fingers found and pressed that small bud protruding at the top of her cleft. While she pressed and rubbed it, Maria Clare had a major explosion of her own and for a moment she quite left this world for a place she felt must be heaven. To Be Continued Nun Pussy Ch. 03 Quite out of breath, they lay on the floor, breathing heavily. It was some time before the nun adjusted her skirts and covered her nakedness. You have plummed my depths most wonderously,“ said Maria Clare. Zachary arranged his cloak, marveling at his good fortune. “You may spank me anytime you wish,” said the boy. “I would spy upon you in your privey a hundred times to be rewarded in such a delightful manner.” “That is unnecessary.” The nun smiled. “Tell me, was that the first time you ventured to view a Sister’s precious secret?” “It was,” swore the boy. “It was most thrilling.” “Was it me you chose to spy upon or was it I who just happened along?” “In all honesty,” said the boy, “I hoped to view the charms of young Rachael, the novitiate.” He swallowed and looked to see if her had upset the nun by his admission. “But I now swear that I am glad it was you.” Maria Clare nodded. “Truly, Rachael is a beauty more of your age. You would much admire her hidden charms should you have the oportunity to view them.” ‘Truly, your body is magnificent beneath the consealment of your habit.” His eyes met hers. “And truly, you fuck deliciously. Your back hole is much tighter than Father Burke‘s and your buns ever so much prettier and softer to to absorb my strokes.” “Surely your compliments invite a further exchange of confidences between us.” “I look forward to that,” said the young man. He hesitated. “You spoke of young Rachael’s hidden charms. You have seen them?” “I confess.” “Perhaps at a time of laying hands smartly on her bare bum?” “She is newly arrived and has yet to be introduced to bum warming but she will be. All noviates acquire the red bottom, many times, before confirmation.” They heard the heels of a nun’s shoes on the stone passage outside. “Someone is coming. We will speak later,” whispered Marie Clare. “I did not believe your punishment would take so long. I am to meet someone else here. She turned to leave. Zachary hurridly closed his robe, covering his nakedness. He heard the nun greet the intruder. “Sister Maryam! Is it so late already!” Maria Clare sounded flustered. “Are you not alone?” “This is the young man I invited for special instruction.” She raised her voice slightly. “It is time to leave, Zachary.” “Yes Ma’am.” The redfaced boy looked up to the senior nun, then down to the floor. “You may go, Zachary,” Maria Clare said softly. “I’m sure he has been well instructed, Sister,” Sister Maryam smiled. Maria Clare answered soberly. “We each learned something. Don’t you agree, Zachary. The boy nodded vigorously. He left to the coarse laughter of the older nun. The last thing he heard was, “Sister Maria Clare, you must tell me everything.” *** “I came to ask if those pictures I told you about have any validity,” said Rachael. Are men actually made as they were pictured in The Good Mother’s book and do men do enter each other bodies as was depicted?” “Most assured;y they possess the appropriate weapons and use them in the manner you saw in that book. I have seen and touched such a member.” confessed Maria Clare. “How is it that you came upon such a revelation?” “You remember the night we met on our way to excrete our wastes?” “We revealed our secret parts to each other by candlelight.” “After you left I chanced upon a lad from the monestery attempting to spy upon my person as I went about my business.” Rachael giggled. “How terrible. Do you believe he witnessed as much of our persons as we revealed to each other?” “He said he did not.” “And you believed him?” Maria Clare laughed quietly. “I directed him to the catacombs where he accepted his punishment.” “Oh tell me! What did you do?” “I bared his bottom and strapped his arse until it was quite red.” “Truly, did he lift his robes?” asked Rachael. Was that thing as thick as you surmised?” The older woman nodded vigorously. “You would not believe the bulk that rose so stiffly from that place.” “Did he not mind your touch?” Maria Clare smiled mysteriously. “He did not draw away.” “What, pray tell, did this object feel like?” “Most firm, and hot to the touch. It has a life of its own and moved in my hand in a most peculiar manner.” “Did you not fear he would force it into that place men say God made for it?” Maria Clare shook her head. “He has had no experience with women.” “Then he can little enlighten us in such a matter?” “The young man is most eager to learn and is desirous of viewing our secrets . I feel certain he would reveal his weapon in exchange for viewing yours.” “I ache to administer to his bare bottom as you did.” “There is more,” whispered Marie Clare. “He knows women possess that opening beneath the hairy triangle we are not to think about. . .” “But constantly do,” interposed Rachael.” “Until , at times, we become dewy slick within that crevice.” “As it does now?” “Most certainly it has been so since the young man parted his robes.” “Your tale makes my hairy nest moist as well,” confessed the younger woman. “He says,” disclosed the older one, “that I possess more curls in that place than any of the Brothers.” “You revealed it to him?” “And more,” said Maria Clare. “I dare not reveal all that transpired.” “You possess many pretty curls,” said the girl. “Was he not impressed?” “You are amply decorated,” declared the nun. “You excite me greatly. Let us undrape each other and ease that itch that consumes me.” Maria Clare nodded. “I confess I long for your touch that brings such joy.” “I am totally bare beneath my skirts.” “And I.” The older woman insinuated the younger one’s hand into the folds of her habit and placed it where she desired that intimate stroking. “I yearn for you to tease my tender place as well.” “Young Zachary yearns to see how a lass such as yourself is constructed,” said Maria Clare. “Would you please his eye should the opportunity arise?” “If modesty does not prohibit, I would have us naked together.” The older woman gasped. “Rachael! Your fingers! I writhe under your sweet torture. Let us arrange ourselves that I may frolic in your garden as you cultivate mine.” “And tickle to our heart’s delight.” They lay in Maria Clare’s hard bunk. They opened each other’s habit to lay bare that place from whence many good feelings issue. Each moaned under the caresses of the other until their movements could no longer be controlled and their gasps could not be witheld. Each burst into uncontrolled spasms of ecstatic delight at almost the same moment. “Someday I wish to kiss you fully,” confessed Maria Clare. “Do I shock you with my carnal desires?” “I am a bit taken aback. I had not dreamed of such an act, though I heard it rumored that some Sisters do such things in the privacy of their cells,” said the girl. “Is that true?” Many relieve themselves in such mutual gratification. I confess I do likewise.” “You admit it openly?” “Only to you, but most surely, we have already sinned.” Rachael smiled. “I too confess to such fingering caresses on my person.” The younger woman withdrew her hand from the nuns crotch and brought her fingers to her own lips. “You do not have an unpleasant taste,” confessed Rachael.” Marie Clare nodded. “Many lonely nights, I please myself and lick my fingers. Often I have wished I might so contort myself so as to place my tongue on that ticklish spot.” “It is impossible or nearly so,” confessed the girl. “You too have tried?” “I have,” confessed the younger woman. “Would not it be more pleasurable to allow another kiss it for you?” Rachael lay back, legs spread and moist parts opened to the cool air of the underground room. “Would you lick the juices from such a place?” “Surely the flow of such a font must be be ambrosia.” “My fingers, soaked in your juices, are flavored with your nectar. There is nothing repulsive to it.” Marie Clare lifted her fingers from Rachael’s hairy slot to her nose. “The odor is not unsavory.” “Taste. Our flavors are not so different.” “You have tasted your own natural tang?” “Of course, after those solitary sessions we have confessed to.” Maria Clare brought the fingers to her lips, pretending innocence. “It will not kill me, I suppose.” She hesitated. “And I do love you, very much.” “And I you.” Marie Clare brought the moist fingers to her tongue. She smiled. “Ambrosia. It is ambrosia. We must sip at the source for our bedtime devotions.” *** The following week, Zachary again entered the catacomb Maria Clare had chosen for their meetings. He eagerly anticipated discarding his robes and having the good sister grasp his prick in such a nice way. He was a slight man but well developed in the lower region. Already he was stiffening in anticipation He could absorb the punishment of the strap as little more than a petty annoyance compared to the good feelings entering the good nun’s holy bottom gave him. Last week he had rushed back to the monestery to jerk off while he mentally re-lived the woman’s hand grasping his privates through his own manipulations not to mention the invision of the little, back hole in the cleavage between those bulbous, female cheeks. He was much surprised to confront young novitiate, Rachael, inside the candle lit room. “I do not understand.” Sister Maria Clare stepped from behind the girl. “You will Zachary, I assure you. Rachael has asked to admister the strap today as a part of her training,” explained the nun. Zachary, perplexed, shook his head.” “She merely wishes to learn how, should she be forced, to punish someone to retain control in her classes.” “I have done nothing wrong,” protested Zachary. “I know,” whispered Sister Rachael. “I only seek experience, learn how it is done.” “With my robes raised and parted?” “If you would.” “Sister Marie Clare told you what she did.” “Yes.” “And you are willing?” The girl nodded. Now Zachary was not the dumbest boy around. He sensed that the two nuns were merely pretending punishment in order to handle his rather large pee tube which, at this moment, was elevating to full erection. He nodded. “If you punish me in such a manner, should I not be allowed to take the same measure of your bottom?” “That would be unseemly,” said Maria Clare. Sister Rachael said, “Such a scene would be exceedingly naughty. . .” “Unheard of,” snorted Maria Clare, hiding her smile. “. . . but fair...” continued Rachael. “I offer my bottom as you offer yours. Tat for tat.” “That’s tit for tat,” said Maria Clare. “I was reluctant to mention tits in mixed company,” tittered Rachael, “We hardly dare acknowledge our own.” Zachary gasped, astounded at the holy sister‘s talk. “I only spoke as it is mentioned in the old saying. A tit is what is offered,” said Rachael, simply.” “You would offer yours? To a boy?” ”I offered a tat or tats to my bum. I think you should, in all fairness, do the same. Don’t you, Zachary?” Zachary thought they were discussing their bare bums. He certainly wanted to see them exposed. He had never seen a young female bum, only that of a holy sister of the church. “Yes Ma’am. I would like to smack both your arses and hear how a strap sounds on anothers’s bare buns.” “I do believer the boy is a libertine,” said Maria Clare. “So much the better for us,” said Rachael. “I cannot believe you would venture so far,” gasped the older nun, “as to bare a bottom you but recently bared to my eyes.” “It was bared when you asked.” “You would answer all such requests?” “Should they meet my approval.” “Who would have believed it would come to this.” “You told me of clasping the boy’s poker. You marveled at its length and firmness. Shall we procede?” ”Hopefully we are alone,” said Maria Clare. Rachael nodded. “The Mother Superior would be most displeased that we discovered a treasure before her.” Maria Clare turned to the boy. “If you would lift your robes Rachael will give you a glimpse of what you will punish in return.” Zachary nodded. He lifted the hem of the long robes until he was bare to the waist. The nun nodded gravely at the taut cheeks and as he turned a bit of the extended pecker nosed upward. Sister Rachael grasped the hem of her habit and turned her back on him. She bent forward and lifted the black skirts of her habit above her hips. The boy could not believe such beauty. Never had he viewed such pale roundness. Slender columns rose from her black stockinged calves to full blossoming thighs to the naked, double loaved bottom exposed in its full majesty. Zachary gasped at the beauty. His eyes, for the minutest part of a second, caught the few stray, black hairs the protruding below what he could only think of as paradise. Quickly, the robes fell to cover the young nun’s secret parts. She turned to the boy, her face flushed but serenely innocent. Maria Clare sounded all business. “We are ready to begin. Shall I demonstrate how it is accomplished?” “I’ll manage,” said Rachael. She pressed Zachary forward. He placed his hands on his knees as he had been taught. The young nun raised his cloak higher and bared the taut buns to her virgin eyes. She gasped and ran her hands over the smooth hide and was amazed at how much it excited her.” “You forgot the strap,” reminded Maria Clare. “I would prefer using my hand.” The older woman shrugged. Rachael pressed her hand under the boy from the side and encountered the stiffness of the youth’s cock. She squeezed. The boy reacted by moving back and forth in her closed fingers. She had never imagined such a thrill. She seemed frozen as in a dream. “Well? Are you going to lay it on him or not?” Maria Clare’s patience wore thin. She wanted her turn. Then, after punishing the boy, they could go about their fingering of each other beneath their habits. “I’m seeking how to hold him while I strike the target.” “Just do it.” Rachels hand slapped tentatively. A weak sound echoed from the compressed flesh. “You can do better that,” said Maria Clare. “Harder, said Zachary, “You can smack harder. I can take it.” With each smack, Zachary pressed his bar of flesh further into Rachael’s closed fist and withdrew. It was ever so much better that what he did with his own fingers. He wondered what would happen if he shot the white stuff. “My turn,” interrupted Maria Clare. “I want to punish him a bit.” “Maybe it should be his turn next. He should spank one of us.” “I never agreed to let him do that,” protested Maria Clare. “Fair is fair.” “Then it is you. I will watch.” “Only if I see you absorb the same.” Rachael sounded adament. “I cannot believe you‘d expose yourself to a mere boy.” “I already have, for a moment. It has no lasting effect.” “How dare you?” “Like this.” Rachael lifted her skirts high for a moment, exposing all below the belt for a second. “Try it. It airs to those parts we hide from the light. Let them breathe.” “And if I do? Maria Clare breathed in her courage. “Perhaps it will lead to ambrosia for all.” Maria Clare’s mouth tightened, but she nodded. The older nun grasped her skirts and lifted them high. Zachary peeked from his bent over position. He had, for the moment, forgotten the older woman’s cunt hair was red. And there was so many curls in that vee where her legs came together. Her skin was fair and her bottom, more massive than he remembered, was firm and superbly rounded. He could imaged the sound of his hand connecting with those soft mounds of flesh. He almost lost his load. “Nicer than I could have imagined,” whispered Rachael. “I feel foolish,” said Maria Clare. “What do you think Zachary?” “She is most lovely,” said Zachary. “You both are.” “Which bums would you most like to spank?” There was flirting lilt to the young woman’s voice. Zachary shook his head. “I could never choose between you.” “I’ll help.” Rachael stood beside the nun and lifteded her skirts. With their backs turned they bent and presented their plump asses, side by side. Zachary straightened and moved to the two barred bottoms. Tentatively he smacked one and then the other.” “Warm me,” moaned Rachael after the third slap. “If you must do it, do it harder,” instructed Maria Clare. Zachary laid it on, first one resounding cheek and then another. Both sets of buns jiggled and danced under his hand. Zachary’s erection was about to spout without a helping hand. After one delicious smack at an upward angle, his fingers detected slick moisture at the core Curious fingers probed the the older nun and he was amazed at her wetness and the ease with which they entered there. He was more surprised when she pushed back on those same fingers until they were completely inside her slick, smooth pasage. Maria Clare emitted a long low moan. Zachary stepped between them and, with his left hand, probed the younger woman with the same result. “He has his fingers in the hole I pee from,” moaned Maria Clare. “The feeling is glorious,” said Rachael. “I don’t know if I can stand it.” “Don’t stop,” begged Marie Clare. “Please don’t stop.” Enboldened by the nuns reaction, Zachary continued to probe the women from the rear. “I adore your pretty, fat asses,” he whispered. “Is that where you have your fingers,” groaned Rachael.” “I’m tickling your pussies,” said the boy. “They want for a hard cock to soothe them.” “That would certainly be sin,” whispered Maria Clare. “Such an act must have a frightful name for it.” “Fucking,” said Zachary, “Cock in pussy is called fucking.” “Would you do that to us,” asked Rachael. “Never!” declared the older sister. “Use your fingers only.” “I must fuck,” said the boy. “My cock is so hard it hurts.” “I want it,” moaned the young nun. “No!,” said Maria Clare. “It’s a sin.” “Do her first.” begged Rachael. “She might leave if you do me. I promise I’ll wait for you.” “I’ll fill her cunt,” said the boy. “I’ll fill her good.” “No,” wailed the nun. “You cannot enter there. Fill me in back as you did before.” “You have had him before?” asked the girl. Zachary moved behind the older woman’s large behind, parted the soft cheeks spit upon his weapon and aimed it at the crinkled rosette. He plugged the woman to his balls in one mighty thrust. Maria Clare screamed and tried to pull away. “You’re killing me. I can’t stand it.” Sister Rachael straightened to watch the boys cock slide into the nun’s small, back hole untll all she could see was his tight buns pressed to the larger, softer flanks. Soon, the boy withdrew from the fleshy cushion only to ram forward again. He held the nuns hips in a steel grip to keep her from pulling away. “I would not have thought it possible,” breathed Rachael. “I’m fucking her,” marveled the boy. “I’m rammed right up her tight arse hole. I’m fucking her.” “Let me go!” Maria Clare moaned. “I remain tender from your last mounting. You are too much. I am filled to overflowing and you make me feel most strange.” Rachael dropped to her knees to better observe the junction. “He really does enter your nether hole,” she marveled, “He withdraws and moves it in as we do with holy candles in our holy place.” “You candle your cunts?” asked the boy without slowing his movements. ”You should not speak of such things,” wailed Maria Clare. “A mere youth should not know of such things.” “He knows about fucking.” The young woman tasted the sound of the forbidden word for the first time and found she liked it. “He knows how to fuck your arse. Don’t you like being fucked?” “It becomes better. Now that I grow accustomed to it, I find many pleasant sensations.” The older nun gasped. “They grow stronger. I think I am. . . I think I ammmm. . . I think I am going to do what you made happen with your fingers! I think I am. . . Doing IT! The woman slipped to her knees. Zachary’s cock slipped from its haven and for a moment his hips moved back and forth while his hard cock pumped the air. Nun Pussy Ch. 03 “Lovely,” marveled Rachael. “Don’t waste it. Do me. Make me fucked as you have Sister Marie Clare.” Bend over and raise your habit,” said the boy. “Be quick about it.” “I’ll remove it,” said the perky young novitiate. “I would bare my fleshy globes for you.” The young woman stood naked before him to also display the first full breasts the boy had ever seen and his first unobscured view of her hairy, triangular adronment. “Then I will be naked too,” said the boy. He flung his robe aside. “You are brazenly exposing your dugs.” The older nun scolded Rachael. “Shame on you.” “He views my hairy trough before and my rounded arse behind,” said the young woman. “He is most welcome to plumb my back hole as he did yours.” ”He did that most thoroughly,” admitted Marie Clare. “It feels as though he were still there. I wonder if I will walk normally ever again.” Rachael bent forward and spread her rounded, projecting cheeks. The boy moved behind her and made the connection. She moaned as the hardened flesh entered her tender parts and moved steadily into her until she felt his short hairs tickle her bottom. To Be Continued Nun Pussy Ch. 04 A few days later, Maria Clare led the young novitiate down the dark curving steps that led to the more remote catacombs beneath the convent. It was a place the young novitiate had been warned never to enter. Now within the bowels of that deserted section they entered a large room that appeared to have been a place of recent activity. There were candles and oil lamps though only one lamp was lit. A few pillows were strewn on the floor and soft rugs made the place seem almost livable. Maria Clare led the way down a dark passage beyond and paused before a heavy wooden door banded with iron straps. A small window at eye heigth had a small iron grillwork across it. “It is time that you were acquainted with a more secret portion of our holy order,” said Maria Clare. “It is frightening down here,” said the novitiate. The older woman opened the heavy cell door and sheilding the lighted candle with her hand, entered the dark place that had the peculiar though familure odor of one of the outbuildings. “Certainly, it stinks,” thought Rachael. She inhaled the fetid odors of human piss and shit. The room contained a hard, wooden bunk with but a single blanket. In the corner, a half full, wooden bucket held stale piss and soft, floating turds. “The Good Mother does her monthly penance here,” explained Maria Clare. The lone occupant of that dreary cell wore a solitary, short, loose garment that failed to completely drape her enormous buttocks. The Mother Superior knelt before a panel mural that covered what might have once been a doorway. The life size painting, on wood, depicted a naked man though there was a circular hole cut out at the groin. Throughout the year a three dimentional, oiled, erect wooden phallus filled that space where the genitals should be. On special holy days, that opening was filled with the earthly equipment of the Holy Father‘s flesh to be adored and laved by the kisses of a holy sister of the inner circle, those qualified to be in the presence of the true organ of all creation. Now, through that hole was threaded a long, round piece of what looked to be shriveled flesh. It hung limply against the wood and appeared to have recently be immerced in something wet. The moisture still shone on it. The nearly naked woman turned to them and wiped a drop of spittle and something thicker, slick and milky, from her lips. “Sister Maria Clare, you have arrived to complete my abasement?” “If I may be so permitted, oh Holy Mother.” The good nun genuflected before the older woman who remained on her knees. “I see you have brought the novitiate to begin her initiation in our most holy rites.” “I have, Most Holy Mother.” “Does she recognize the object hanging limply before me?” Maria Clare turned to the younger woman. “You may address the The Good Mother. Do you recognize the object?” The girl shook her head. She moved closer. “Never have I seen such a soft, ugly thing.” “You may touch it,” said The Good Mother, “but gently.” The girl lifted the flesh with her fingers and thought she heard a deep moan or a groan from beyond the thin wood partition. “It seems almost alive,” said the girl. “It contained some life before I drained it,” said The Good Mother. “It is still attached to a lower life form on the other side.” “What in heavens’s name can it be?” “It is that, that differs men’s anatomies from our own,” said The Good Mother. “That limpness, when lost, is named a prick.” “Surely it is most strange.” “It is now useless. The drained brother has suffered his pennance beyond the wall,” explained The Good Mother, “as I have suffered mine here. With my holy mouth, I tongued and teased his instrument. I milked his seed until his sturdy weapon droops harmlessly, as you now see it.” “You have done well, Holy Mother.” said the nun. “Now I must pay for my venery,” said the older woman. “Lead me from this abomination and that worthless man flesh. Bathe me and lay upon my bounteous buns many applications of the strap I so richly deserve.” Maria Clare helped the older woman from her knees and led her from the cell down the cold, damp corridor to a room where warm springs steamed and bubbled to overflowing in a large stone depression suitable for half a dozen to bathe. She helped the The Good Mother rid herself of her filthy rags. Rachael watched the garment fall from her massive form to reveal the holy woman’s nakedness. Her large, well formed teats sagged heavily. Her waist, though thick, was not unseemly. The bulging hams of her meaty buttocks were emormous but tightly packed and smooth. In the front, The good Mother displayed in that secret place, where others grew manycurls, a clam as completely hairless as a babe’s crotch. Rachael gasped at a gaping slit that owned no consealment from prying eyes. The Abbess stood and asked of the younger of her two attendants. “Is this not the largest ass you have set your innocent eyes upon?” The Good Mother slapped her huge buttocks. “And not so badly formed for a woman of my years if I may say so.” “Quite lovely,” said the novitiate. “I have not been privy to the viewing of many, but surely your bum is the most magnificently rounded my eyes have beheld.” “In your limited experience, I venture that is true,” said The Good Mother. “But Sister Maria Clare will assure you that there is not a larger arse in the convent.” “That cannot be denied,” confirmed Maria Clare. “Now,” said the The Good Mother. “Divest yourselves of your habits and aid me in my ablutions.” Maria Clare immediately shed her habit and seeing the Good Sister doing so, Rachael, the lusty lass, had little compunction in becoming quite naked as well. Soon, in the steaming water, the Good Nun and the noviate laved the naked person of the Abbess, the Mother Superior herself, touching and soaping each crack and crevice, every rounded surface of the huge ass cheeks and the pendulate, large nippled breasts hanging weightily from her chest. Above all, what most fascinated the little novitiate,kneeling before the older woman was the shorn mount at the juncture of The Good Mother’s enormous thighs. With all evidence of hairy growth removed, the plump inner lips protruded beyond the outer ones and and the deep crack lay oprn, totally pink and vulnerable. Most startling was the small, stiff object protruding from the uper part of the The Good Mother’s slit, an object closely resembling in size and shape of an item Rachael once viewed projecting between the legs of a boy babe except this member did not have the attendant pouch created for the holding the male jewels. The Good Mother, notcing the young woman’s facination with the object, spoke. “Have you not seen one so large,” she asked proudly. “I have not,” replied the girl. “As you observe, I have nothing similar, nor does the good sister Maria Clare.” “Oh you have one. Though quite small it is, no doubt, quite sensitive. Mine, I assure you, is a wonder. The good sister can tell you there is none larger among all the sisters.” Rachael looked to her companion. “It is true? You have viewed the hidden charms of all those who live in this convent?” “An so, in time, shall you,” assured The Good Mother. “We hide our charms only from men and their brutish ways. Amongst the sisters, we conceal nothing.” “Tis truly a wonder,” said the girl. “I am so ignorant in the ways of the world.” “You shall soon be enlightened,” said The Good Mother. The Abbess stepped from the bath. The two women bussied themselves with drying her. “Now,” said The Good Mother, “you must put the strap to these old buns, sharply, for I crave a spend and the prelude to bedewing this old crack is a brisk warming of my bottom cheeks. A fire kindled there tranfers to heat to my loins and enlarges further that nub that so entrances our little novitiate.” “We are to thrash you?” asked the girl. “And soundly,” advised The Good Mother. “I truly relish each stroke laid heavily upon this old arse. I wallow in it and as Sister Maria Clare will aver, these cheeks will withstand any ordeal and beg for more.” “It is true,” conceded, Maria Clare. The Good Mother’s bounteous buns absorb more punishment that any other sister can withstand.” The Abbess bent at the waist and placed her hands on her knees. She raised her massive bottom and presented it to the equally naked nuns. The fully blown buttocks rose and protruded above full, tree trunk thighs. As she bent, the shaved fig of her sex pouted outward. “Let my punishment begin,” said Abbess. “Withhold nothing and do stop until I am set to loose the demons possessing this poor flesh.” “We obey, Holy Mother.” Maria Clare dipped her finger in the moistening slot between her own thighs and crossed herself with the slickness. “I am not unwilling to accept such punishment as I mete out to others,” said The Good Mother. “I will accept ten strokes from each. Each select a cheek and lay it on.” Maria Clare handed a broad strap to Rachael and retained one for herself. “Do not spare your arm, girl,” warned, The Good Mother. “I expect you to lay on your best. This bum merits extra attention.” Rachael looked to Maria Clare who let go a tremendous blow on The Good Mother’s right lower cheek. The Good Mother did not flinch as she absorbed the pain. The bright pink stripe rising in the straps wake deepened and became bright red. Rachael folowed suit and felt the moistness trickle from between her thighs. The women alternated the laying on of their straps across the broad, quivering cheeks of the Mother Superior until the count of twenty was reached. The older woman’s backside was now totally crimson with darker stripes criss-crossing the broad expance. “I am surely well warmed and shall not sit comfortably tonight,” gasped The Good Mother. “You may now tongue my pleasure now until I reach my crisis repeatedly.” Maria Clare knelt before her as the older woman sat on the edge of the cool stone shelf, lay back and widely parted her thighs to open the prominate, brown lips of that fleshy fig she displayed most shamelessly. Maria Clare licked one of her superior’s taut nipples and it erected at least half an inch from the huge teat. She motioned Rachael to suck at the other one. When she was certain the girl understood her chore, she slipped between The Good Mother’s thighs and buried her head at the junction. Her tongue played loving tribute to the older woman’s open labia and the extended cllitoris. “Yes,” moaned The Good Mother. ”Tongue my holy slit and keep the juices flowing. Make good things happen in my holiest of holy holes. Lick the crack of my cunt, Sister!” Maria Clare stiffened her tongue and entered a slick tunnel with no reachable end, then gave attention to that large nub of sensitive flesh protruding more than an inch. Maria Clare sucked that organ between her lips until the older woman, moaned and threshed until, gasping for breath, she moaned, “Please! That’ is enough for this old woman.” Maria Clare raised her head and met Rachael’s eyes. The young woman looked as she could not believe The Good Mother had so accepted the rite of the offering of the forbidden fruit she had just witnessed. The Good Mother turned to Rachael. “It is an old woman’s curse that she must be so treated to reach her peak.” She smiled, “This holy arse shall be sore pressed, tomorrow, to bear my weight when sitting.” “Then the hunger for the strap rises again,” said Maria Clare. “I fear I was so trained” said the Abbess, “and so were we all.” “Sometime the strokes fall on that fine ass so hard she pisses herself in ecstasy,” revealed Maria Clare. “I have done so during many a good threshing,” said The Good Mother. ”But now you must be punished for being a party to this secret vice. Maria Clare bowed her head. “I willingly accept your punishment Good Mother.” “Then pass the strap and present yourself.” The nun kissed the leather and passed it to the older woman. I bow to your will and accept your punishment , Good Mother,” “Then assume the position.” Rachael, the novitiate stood, stunned, as Maria Clare knelt before The Abbess and presented her bare backside. The older woman lifted the strap and brought it down with a crack. The tender flesh quivered. When the strap was lifted for the next slash, a red welt remained. Another crack of leather on naked flesh rang in Rachael’s ears. “The novitiate will find bums must be warmed, the cheeks well pinked before knowing their greatest delight.“ The Good Mother breathed deeply. “Is it not so, Sistser Maria Clare?” “Yes Good Mother.” Maria Clare’s voice strained to hide her pain. “You are too good to me.” “You may now pay your respect.” The Holy Mother turned her large posterior to the punished woman. Maria Clare wiped a single tear from her cheek and pressed her lips once to each enormous cheek of the Abess’s bountious, reddened ass. Maria Clare lifted her head in askance. “I would soothe the Good Mother once more should she so desire.” “Tis sufficient until later. Instruct the novitiate now as I have instructed you.” Maria Clare took the strap from The Holy Mother. She moved to Rachael. “You must accept the strap as pennance for what you are about to do.” “Not for what I have done?” “What’s done is forgot in the past,” said The Good Mother. “What you shall do needs absolvement before the deed and also needs the warming to prepare you for it.” Rachael knelt as the nun had done and presented her ripening young ass. “She displays her bum nicely for one so young,” said the Good Mother. “Please commence.” At Maria Clare’s first blow and the young girl gasped her pain. The first stripe was crossed with a second and a third. The girl sobbed and tears streamed from her face. On the tenth stroke, the girl screamed out her pain. “Pay you respects to your corrector,” instructed The Good Mother. The sobbing novitiate turned, to her tormentor as Maria Clare had done to the Good Mother, and faced the red striped buttocks of Maria Clare. She pressed her moist lips to the hot, nether cheeks. Rachael looked up to Maria Clare’s smallish, perky breasts. She sobbed. “I will do more if the good Sister requires it.” The Good Mother smiled. “It is plain you two have fingered each other’s cunts before,” said the Holy Mother. “Perhaps you have done more.” “I have instructed novitiate Rachael in ways she might please others should she enter the order,” confessed Maria Clare.” “Being ignorant, I asked for instruction,” confessed Rachael. “Of course,” said The Good Mother. “Now that you are warmed you may seek your pleasure in each other and savor the honey from each other’s combs.” Maria Clare looked, questioning, to Rachael. “If you so desire,” she whispered. Rachael nodded. Maria Clare lay back on a pile of cushions, displaying an open invitation the younger woman. She motioned the novitiate to straddle her face and lower her tenderest, private parts untill the nun’s tongue tasted the slick drippings of her flowing juices. Rachael bent forward to taste the dewy offering welling up between Maria Clare’s quivering thighs. The Good Mother watched the two women roll on the floor, each with her lips glued to that hair fringed slit between the other’s thighs. She savored the burning of her bottom and fanned at the moisture between her thighs as her juices dried. She watched the two women a moment longer before slipping into her habit and leaving. Tonight, Sister Elsbeth would rub balm into her burniing flesh. Sister Elsbeth’s fingers always soothed her scorched buns after a good warming. Sister Elsbeth’s tongue was most comforting. Also the younger sister was adept at stroking her with the large candle that was made from a mold said to have been taken from the hard penis of good Pope Leo himself. They kept this holy treasure to themselves. *** Zachary lay on his side behind old Brother Longono, pressed to the old man’s scrawny buttocks and fingered the old monks scrawny nipples. Occasionally he grasped the long, limp cock that stretched along the skinny thigh virtually useless. The old monk’s member had remained that way since returning from the room of atonement. Zachary had heard rumors of happenings in that room. The brothers said a penitent monk was bound to a pillory and so positioned that his cock was threaded through a hole into a similar cell where. There, for three days, a penitent nun whose thirst for male sperm was insatiable, teased and sucked him dry. Zachary only knew that when a Brother returned from that place he took days, before there was a stirring of life in that most male part of him. As Brother Longono grew older, and the recovery time grew longer, there was little the lustful, old brother could find in the way of satisfaction other than offer his tired bunghole to anyone willing to plug it and massage his overworked and wornout prostrate. Few of the Brothers cared for a tired, old receptacle with little elasticity left in an anal muscle that no longer guarenteed a pleasing grasp around an invading cock. Thus it fell to younger men, those not yet brothers, to plug the old man and give him a bit of pleasure. “Put it to me, youngster. Slam it hard enough I can feel it,” begged the old monk. “Yes sir, I’m trying.” “Can’t squeeze a hard cock up there like I used to,” complained the old man. “The prostrate needs a massage by a sturdy young prick with some juice in it. Ram it to me, boy. I can hardly feel you.” The boy slammed his hard cock home and pressed the scrawny buttocks to his groin in an effort to satisfy the old man. “She drained me,” whimpered the old monk. “After I shot the third time it hardly stiffened at all. But she kept at it and kept at it after I was totally drained. Even after it was soft she drew my vital juices from me.” “She sucked out many loads?” asked the boy. “I am sure she swallowed six the first day.” He moaned. “Too much. Too much for an old man. I fear I will never stiffen again. I am turned into an old woman with an asshole for a cunt.” “Perhaps you should rest and let your body recover.” “Her tongue was rough, like a cat’s tongue and it inflamed me even when the poor flesh would no longer stand,” whined the old man as though the boy’s cock were not hammering steadily at his back entrance. “Don’t you feel it?” asked the boy, “Can‘t you feel my stiff cock tickling in your bowels?” “I like dirty talk,” said the monk. “You’re fucking my back-hole.” “As far as I can reach,” panted the boy. “Need more hair around my ass-cunt,” moaned the old monk. Get more hard cocks up me that way.” ”I want to come,” groaned the boy. Tighten your hole.” “Are you really filling me back there?” asked the old man. “You barely tickle me.” The boy, frustrated at the loose asshole that did not clasp his prick, pulled out. “That’s enough,” gasped the boy. “Now turn and suck your shit off my prod.” “Gladly,” said the old man. He grasped the boys stiff prick and swallowed it easily and sucked it like a babe at the nipple. Moments later the old monk removed the boy’s prick from his mouth. “Me thinks you withdrew from my hole barely in time. My time has come. I must shit.” The monk proceded to do that, most smellily and most profusely, there in his cell, there in his bunk as he continued to suck the boy until he swallowed the boy’s load, licked his lips contentedly and went, happily, to sleep in his own filth. To be Concluded Nun Pussy Ch. 05 Even the next day, Rachael could not get over the fact that she had been strapped and strapped, most vigorousy on her tender, bare buns. More surprising, she found she enjoyed the naughty experience both in the weilding and the receiving of that narrow, leather strap. She had never known such excitement and exuded so much moisture in her loins as when The Good Mother bent and accepted the leather across her broad, white arse. “I must admit,” said the pretty girl, “It was most pleasurable watching The Good Mother’s cheeks quiver under my strokes.” Maria Clare nodded. “She does possess two mighty mounds to display most prominately when she accepts the strap.” “I wonder if I shall ever attain such a bottom,” mused the girl. “With propper diet and workouts such as we endured today, it is surely possible.” “To think how all those mountains of flesh must multiply the sensation you gave my tender bottom yesterday. I wonder if I could bear such a strapping on such an expansion of what I possess.” “You have a most beautious bottom and I love it dearly as it is,” said Maria Clare. I could stroke, forever, its smooth curves and warm skin and kiss all that lies between your parted thighs.” “And I yours,” said the girl. “Still the abbess has so much to recommend her. Her crack does not have the flavor of yours but still her juices are not offensive.” The women had just entered the warm, natural baths to which Maria Clare had led her. As they lolled in the warm, bubbling waters A middle aged sister descended the stone steps and began loosening her habit. “I trust you good sisters will not object my joining you in your evening’s ablutions.” “We have none, Sister Rosemary. Please join us,” invited Maria Clare. “Thank you Sister Maria Clare, I have endured a most strenuous day.” “This is novitiate Rachael,” said Maria Clare. “She received her first taste of the strap yesterday under the tutulage of The Good Mother herself. We now further cool our warmed bottoms.” Sister Rosemary nodded sagely. “Ah yes. The Good Mother weilds the strap most efficiently. This poor sister’s broad arse has known the taste of the strap in The Good Mother’s punishing hand many times.” The heavy habit fell to the ground and the nun stepped from it. Rachael found it difficult to believe another human being could grow so much, bristly, wiry hair on one rounded belly. From the apex of her fleshy, rounded thighs to her navel, it was one large black mass, a curly, tangled triangle dotted with a sprinkling of gray, kinky curls. “A hairier gash, I trust you’ve never seen,” said Sister Rosemary. “Tis true,” granted Rachael. “I have noted it often and sipped the juices at your holy font,” said Maria Clare, “and truly none is more hirsute.” The woman approached the pool and turned her back to reveal dark stripes across the broad twin loaves of a most generous bottom. “As you can see, this old arse has known its share bum warmings.” She descended into the pool and stood in water that nearly reached the tops of her thighs. She stopped to take the fingers of each hand to part her nether lips and reveal a pink slit in a way that did not appear seemly to Rachael. “And this old snatch has had its quota of fingers and tongues take it measure and I’ve turned away none.” Rachael wondered at a woman approaching fifty who should display her private parts in such a way. She turned away. “Do not look down on an old cunnus because it’s gained a few gray hairs,” said Sister Rosemary. Yours will be so tinged the same one day. Do not believe your honey’s taste will be much altered or your desire to have it sipped will wane with age. If anything, the desire for that lingual caress increases. Is that not so Maria Clare.” “Most true, Sister Rosemary, and I must say to you once more, Never have I seen a mount more mossy over its entirety and at it’s font, it is still a joy to drink deeply.” Rosemary touched the noviate on the shoulder and bid her kneel. “Your lips may pay a small tribute of adoration.” “You are most kind, Sister. I long to sip from your love bowl.” The younger woman knelt and bent forward until her lips touched the hairy lips and her tongue parted the slit opening under her caress. “I have tasted but few though those I have were most tasteful in their flowing but never have I sipped from such a foliaged font where the well is hidden so deeply.” “You are to become one of us,” said Sister Rosemary. “In time and in turn you will open and sip the extracts of all our hairy cunts.” “I am honored, sister.” “I would be happy to accept further tribute from a tongue so young,” said the old nun. “But first let us frolic in the warm waters and tease each other’s cunnies. When we climb out and you may warm these old buns to a temperature that causes my old puss to pucker and issue those slick, honey juices you wish to sample.” “So be it,” said Maria Clare. “Meanwhile, entertain us with tales of times before The Good Mother we know became Abbess.” Sister Rosemary nodded. She laved herself and sat on the small shelf by the side of the pool and the water came to inches below her shoulders. Her sagging, old tits floated to near the top. Sister Maria Clare and Rachael sat to either side. In my early days here, before our present Abbess, the previous good mother was known as Sister Plentypuss for surely she had that, and her slit had more hair covering it than I ever dreamed of growing.” “How could that be possible?” marveled Rachael. “It doesn’t matter,” said Sister Rosemary, “For when she became Abbess she shaved it clean and presented her smooth cunt to the entire cloister to be tongued by all before she donned the holy robe of her station.” “As did The Good Mother we know,” said Maria Clare. “I hear when she was so shaved even the Good Brothers were invited to attend.” “That is so,” said Sister Rosemary. “Our present Abbess now follows tradition. And,” she added, “The Good Mother surely has established a record size in her holy buns and she offers them often in solemn atonement to expiate her sins, real or imagined.” “That is true,” said Maria Clare. “She gererousy shares and offers her bountious arse to all who would punish them.” “The Abbess Plentypuss was a more strict disciplinarian than the Good Mother now,” said Sister Rosemary. “She relied upon the cane instead of the strap. Though both carry a sting the strap does not leave the permanent welts that have now graced my hide these many years.” “I carry a few such scars proudly,” said Maria Clare, “from my early days here.” “And proudly you will display them all at our private masses,” said Sister Rosemary.” Maria Clare nodded. “I have prayed and waited patiently for a invitation to those secret secssions it is rumored you hold.” Sister Rosemary smiled. “Then you have heard tales of our secret rites.” “I have. Though I know little of the select membership it has been rumored that you carry on a most select office in that group.” “We are a small, secret group within the sisterhood,” admitted Sister Rosemary. “It will be no revelation that, as you should surmise, The Good Mother was initiated by the former abbess herself. Your yesterday session with her was your first step in your initiation to our select group.” “Then this is surely her second, said Rachael.” “That is true.” “How is it so that a novitiate, thought I admit she is a most sweet and worthy one, should be privy to this group at such a tender age,” asked Maria Clare. “That will be divulged,” said Sister Rosemary. “This mere lass will, though her age is tender, will join you at every step. As you rise in stature so shall she be elevated to full sisterhood in our cloister . She shall be privy to secrets only the privileged few are exposed to” “It is too much,” said Rachael. “I am not worthy.” “I understand that candles are used in this initiation,” said Maria Clare. “In what manner do the fit they into the scheme of our induction?” “As you might suppose,” retorted Sister Rosemary, “they are induced slowly into an initiates fundament until she learns to accommodate even the largest and longest comfortably.” “Surely that is painful,” said Rachael.” “Uncomfortable at best, when you are first introduced to them,” said Sister Rosemary. “I have had more than a little experience of candles put to my rear passage. Though it begins with pain, much pleasure to be derived through that entrance.” Sister Rosemary turned to the younger woman. “The initiation will bring much pleasure to you as you learn to accommodate larger objects until perhaps you will one day feel a sacred instrument similar to one the Holy Abbot possesses between his legs.” “That is done?” asked the shocked young woman. “What of the holy vows we have both have taken to abstain from men?” “Nothing in the way of vows is broken if they take us on a holy day in the same manner that they receive and relieve each other of their passsions,” sighed the old nun. “They shove their rampant staffs, regularly, into each other’s bottoms and those of the young men in training. It is only with invasion of that secret place that we sisters so often lick for relief that either would commit a sin.” “It is logical,” said Maria Clare, “That a place incapable of creating life should not be out of bounds for pleasure.” “I have never heard that,” said Rachael. “You say that it is true men enter their pissing instruments into each other’s bottoms and they also enjoy invading ours?” “That is their method,” admitted Sister Rosemary. “By using that orfice as well as a willing mouth, they cause to be emitted a sacred essence.” “Amazing,” said Rachael. “Only on our holiest days are the Brothers and Sisters permitted in each other’s company. Then, all habits and cowls are cast aside. Many holy unions between our two holy sects are formed.” “It sounds most exciting,” murmured Maria Clare. “I think I would relish such an invasion of my backside.” “You will squirm most excitedly, I promise,” said Sister Rosemary. “You have been so mounted, Sister Rosemary,” asked the young girl. The old nun smacked her broad hips and the sound echoed in their ears. “This old ass once holstered the stiffened miter of the Cardinal himself when he visited our humble monestary next door last Easter,” bragged Sister Rosemary. “I must say his eminence tickled my old bowels. He made me quiver till I could barely stand.” She smiled. “He quite complimented my hole with an efflusion of his balm and told me I held his member most tightly as he spurted his holy essence into me.” And that instrument did not cause discomfort?” questioned the young woman. “I must admit,” said Sister Rosemary, “I felt a tenderness there for a few days and I hesitated to shit for the pain the turds caused when wanting out.” She sighed, “A small price for the pleasure he gave.” “And this does not affect our vows of chastity?” asked the girl. “So long as our forward cracks do not have the hair about them parted and our hidden holes breached by that part that signifies them men, our virginity remains intact. So long as they do not enter us in front, their vows also remain holy,” assured the old nun.” “Though I have been strapped, smartly on my nether cheeks and been kissed thoroughly on those lips damply parted below, I now feel an itch in my backside that needs a rubbing,” Maria Clare confesed. “I too,” responded the novitiate. “None have tended me today. Behind this thick haired cunny, I too feel an itch in my backhole that feels need of a tongue lashing. Our talk such causes my juices to flow and your fingers would be a most welcome preview to your tongue in this graying cunt or my backside.” So saying, the old nun took the young woman’s hand and guided her fingers to the moist crease between her thighs. Rachael found the opening and inserted three finger inside the hungry trap as far as she could force them. The old woman moaned and her hips began a dance all their own around the stiff, teasing fingers. “By all that holy,” moaned Sister Rosemary, “I am a horny old woman and I wish to be tongue fucked until I can no longer stand while you insert a finger or two into my itching fundament.” Rachael withdrew her fingers from the old nun’s cunt and quickly inserted the longest one into the puckered asshole between the solid ass cheeks of the older woman. “Yes! Oh God Yes!,” shouted Sister Rosemary. “Finger my arsehole and tongue tickle my slippery slit. I want to feel the throbbing in both of my piss-hole and my shit-hole.” “You do truly speak filth,” marveled Maria Clare, “and it excites me greatly. Please say more. I think I might know the raptures merely from watching young Rachael finger your holes and hearing your licentious assault upon my holy ears. Come, Dear Sister, with all of your obscenities in full voice.” Rachael took turns at fingering a froth at each of the old nun’s two holes while she titilated the other with her tongue. Sister Rosemary moaned and let loose a string of profanities surely never heard to escape from a holy sister’s mouth before. “Finger fuck me! Oh Yes! Lick my arse and tickle my back hole and shove your tongue in there to taste my shit! OH YES! I quiver and throb in every hole and I cannot stand such pleasure for more than another hour. Such sweet torture you give me. Go on. Go On forever. I promise i will do the same for all of your holes. Oh God! May I never stop coming!” Maria Clare could not help herself. Her fingers clutched her cunt and worked rapidly in her slit while the lonest finger of her other hand reached behind and insertred itself into her own fundament and moved rapidly in and out until she thought she might shit herself. When she came violently, she screamed and fell to the floor a hand at either place. Finally the old woman turned away from Rachael and whispered, “Please. No more! I am, for the moment, satisfied and my ecstasies will last me until next Sunday when The Bishop calls for Easter and we will all get our backsides thoroughly threshed and filled with good, piss hard, seminarian cocks.” She fell to her knees and Rachael sank to the ground beside her. “Now what may an old lady do for you?” asked the older woman. “If you would, Dear Sister, tongue my back hole as I did yours for that has never been done to me and it seems most filthy.” The old woman parted the girls nether cheeks and her stiff tongue, curled stiffly into a probe, tickled the crinkly little star of an opening. Rachael moaned and her toes curled. The old sisters tongue pressed forward and forced the tight ring to part and sought entrance in the tight, slickened passage. The girl could not keep her hips still. She pressed backward onto the rough grained object invading her most private place. Rachael was not sure she could endure the pleasure of this horribly nasty thing being done her. She felt words foreign to her rising from her throat, words she had heard for the first time fall from Sister Rosemary’s lips in her delerium of ecstasy. “LIck my shithole!” screamed Rachael. “Fill my asshole with your tongue! Oh God,” screamed Rachael, “It’s so good!” The young novitiate fainted. But the old nun, hypnotized by the taste of the young girls shit kept licking until she had her fill. *** The Good Sisters of The Inner Sanctum met beneath their chapel in the anteroom to the most secret part of the Convent, a place reached by secret passage through the catacombs, a winding route known only to the initiated. The Secret Sisters, five of them, including the Good Mother, the Abbess herself, sat on the floor, in a circle. Maria Clare sat quietly by Rachael, the noviate. They were totally naked, not even the holy habits of their order were allowed here. “You have been intimate with the initiate, Sister Rosemary,” said The Good Mother. “Does your evaluation coincide with mine?” Sister Rosemary bent to the large woman next to her and placed her lips to the smooth, hairless slit in reverence. Her tongue is most agile, Holy Mother.” “And she accepted full punishment on her nether cheeks the required number of times?” asked The Good Mother. “As all the good sisters of our convent have. It is the solemn basis of our holy obeisance,” said Sister Myriam, a smallish woman nearing forty. She had small, firm breasts and her ass cheeks were well formed though everything about her was petite. “That is very true, Sister Myriam,” said the tall slender sister across the circle who answered as Sister Megan. She parted her slender thighs and ran a thin finger up the trough of her parted vagina. “It is a given. All members of this sisterhood are horny bitches. It for us, the most passionate, to be the keepers of the holy secret. We guard the sanctity of the holy sanctum as the true brides of the upstanding Christ.” Sister Megan parted her slit, wet her finger there and made the sign of the cross on her left breast. Each of the five sisters and the twin initiates followed the speakers example. None had to stroke themselves twice to start the flow of honey. “First,” said Sister Elsbeth, keeper of the holy candles, “We must all candle them vigorously.” “Most assuredly,” said Sister Megan. “Everyone must be candled as we do ourselves weekly in each other’s presence.” “Of course,” said The Good Mother, “If one does not love the candle one cannot love the cock on the cross we sisters adore above all else.” “Amen,” whispered Sister Elsbeth. She put an arm around the Holy Mother, reached under her arm and squeezed one of the mother Superiors pendulous tits. She let her thumb idly stroke the large nipple and brought it to life. “I would candle your cunt faithfully until you scream.” “Bless you, Sister,” said The Good Mother, “and I will do likewise for you at the proper time.” It is time for the initiates to assume the candling position,” said Sister Maryam, keeper of the candle. Crawl forth, bend forward and present your arse holes.” Maria Clare and Rachael moved forward on their knees and facing away touched their foreheads to the floor and raised their naked rumps to the small group of holy nuns. “Part your ether cheek and let us view your unholy holes from whence you pass great turds,” said Sister Maryam. The Young women complied and their dark hole were presented to the coven *** A nun’s whimple shadowed Rachaels face as that single adornment sheilded her peripheral vision like blinders on a horse so that she saw no evil to either side as her sister nuns fingered each other’s slits. An occasional muffled gasp reached her ears as her own fingers moved furatively at the core of her sensual being. Such feelings! Such passion! Such devine sinning in the presence of the divine cock of her lord, her husband as she prepared to become the bride of Christ and be pierced by his mighty prick. “It is time for the taking. Let us all prepare the bride,” commanded The Good Mother. “To lose her virginity,” said Sister Myriam, “you’ve either had the one true prick of God driven in to you or you still have it. “And the candles?” asked Rachael. “Candling does not count,” said Sister Rosemary for they do not approach the size or the solid virility of the one, true prick.” “Nor does a good candling in the alternate hole,” said Sister Myriam. The hole to the rear is reserved for such candles as we use here and perhaps the devils own cock which I am told has barbs on it that stretches and tears at one’s tender places.” “Tis said the good brothers work similar weapons into each other’s back holes and move therein to spurt and drain off their seed that they may not be tempted to a like sin with us,” said Sister Elsbeth. “Tis true they have such weapons,” confessed The Good Mother, “I have tested their worth through the port in the atonement room as well as in person on Easter Eve. I have raised the dead in some of the brothers There I have drained their seed from them into my gullet and my backside. But they have no barbs and their starch is easily taken from them.” Nun Pussy Ch. 05 “We have not been required to atone in such a manner,” said Sister Myriam. “The duty falls on me to abase myself and seek atonement for all the convent and then have the evil I have done strapped from me, painfuly, on the broadness of my bottom.” “We have all known the strap on our tender tether parts,” said Sister Maria Clare. “We seek the ecstasy of the strap upon our bare bottoms,” said Sister Elsbeth. “It is in our nature to crave that to supplant other cravings that might be sinful in other eyes.” “It is our pennance to bare our bottoms to the strap,” said Sister Maryam. “A stinging pennace we all endure,” echoed Sister Elsbeth. Sister Rosemary smiled. “The strap for some, is an end in itself. For others, it only warms our parts to seek further excitement.” “Which brings on a greater reward,” said Sister Maryam. “‘Tis a good pennance,” said Sister Rosemary. “I gladly present my broad arse for punishment. I relish every slap of the leather. Many nights, I crave it.” “Someone always stands ready to oblidge with the strap,” said Sister Maryam. “I love strapping a bare arse and seeing the red stripes criss-crossing the tender flesh when I lay on with a will.” “Which is no sin,” put in The Good Mother. “That craving also finds relief by being addressed in the proper tongue.” “Praise the lord,” breathed Sister Rosemary, “for our moistened, hairy slots.” “From this exchange, alone, my cunt drips its honey,” said Sister Myriam. “And mine,” confessed Sister Megan, “sorely need a fingering or perhaps a good candling to the rear.” “I hated it when they first held me over The Good Mother’s lap and whipped my naked buns,” said Maria Clare . “I cried and struggled and they all laughed at my pain and embarassment as they took turns laying it on.” “She did not sit comfortably for a week,” said The Good Mother. “Then we warmed her with another session,” laughed Sister Rosemary. “Soon she was kneeling, hoisting her habit and praying for the strap, ” said Sister Maryam. “Bare buns high in the air, begging for it,” said Sister Rosemary. “Then we gave her her first candeling,” said Sister Maryam. “With her arse raised high we put the candle to her in that tiny nether hole until she could take no more and her ass was truly fucked.” “Till I was too weak to walk and too sore to sit,” breathed Maria Clare. “But she took to it like a bitch in heat,” said Sister Maryam. “Elsbeth is the keeper of the candles,” said The Good Mother, “Sister please bring them on let us tickle and invade that passage the strap has awakened and opened for us. They lay Rachael, the Novitiate, on the altar and examined carefully the open font of her womanhood. Each sister appraised the young beauty’s golden triangle and the bruised slit it decorated. Each touched the parted hairs and the delicate crack between her thighs with a stiffened finger and then brought that diget to her lower, pouting lips. “First you must be candled,” soothed Sister Elsbeth. “Candled by each of us,” added Sister Rosemary. “It will prepare you for your wedding night,” whispered Sister Myriam. “If you are to become a sister of Christ, You must first become his bride.” “You must suffer the mighty prick of Jesus as it tickles to the depths of your cunt,” proclaimed The Good Mother. “He must be lodged in that holy font you have reserved for him, symbolically that is,” added Sister Elsbeth. “What a solid symbol you‘ll receive that night,” said Sister Megan. “By a full twelve inches of his holy prick,” said Sister Elsbeth, “we will know your measure.” “As ours has been sorely taken,” said Maria Clare. “The first time I thought it would split my tender, young cunt,” tittered Sister Rosemary. “By now it would hold a dozen such,” added Elsbeth. “As would yours,” said Rosemary, “Your inner lips sag as much as mine.” “I bled profusely,” bragged Sister Megan. “I had hardly been stretched at all before I mounted that thing on the cross.” “You frighten me,” said Rachael. “As you can see, child,” said The Good Mother, “We all have lived through it and are the better for it.” “Let us prepare her,” said Elsbeth. “Candle her and stretch that place for the monstrous prick she must take between those tender lower lips,” said Rosemary. “And become the Sister of The Christ but first his bride. Only the chosen few consumate their marriage upon the prick of our lord. *** The other sisters, long past their wedding night with their groom came naked as they were commanded to be in his presence. Soon the novitiate would be led to the figure with the huge wooden phallus projecting upward and would be lifted by her sisters to be lowered upon that rigid object that would invade her until nothing was left exposed but the carved wooden balls of the grotesque figure on the cross. The pain would be overwhelming, she knew. She only hoped that she could bear it as well as she knew others in the room had in their younger days. “You approach your mating with the holy phallus of the Christ himself,” said Maria Clare. “I am to be bethrothed?” asked Rachael. “So soon?” “You will soon be one with us,” said Sister Rosemary. Sister Maryam entered the cell. “You have but one crucifix to mount.” “To be impaled upon,” said Sister Rosemary. “Using that place unbreached by man and saved for the one true prick of our salvation.” Sister Maria Clare remembered her ordeal. She winced as the girl was led forward, supported by Sister Myriam and Sister Rosemary. They lifted her to face the statue and The Good Mother guided her down upon the stout wooden phallus that had been librally oiled for the occasion. Rachael could not believe how large it was, far larger than it looked. She knew it expanded and tore at her tender parts stretched her to the limit. She bit her lip, determined she would not release the scream filling her throat. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the sisters lowered her inch by inch on the stout peg rending her in two. As the last inch disappeared inside her, the new bride of The Christ fortunately fainted. *** A trickle of blood escaped the gaping tender lips recently stretched beyond their limits. Sister Maria Clare blotted at the seepage of red and longed to kiss the tender slit so recently riven by the now bloody phallus. Rachael, the youngest bride to survive her wedding night, moaned and opened her eyes. She blinked and her hand went to her groin. “How long must it remain in me? I am full to bursting with that monstrous thing.” “It is no more with you,” assured Maria Clare. “You have passed the ordeal and your hymen is no longer with you and you are truly The Christ’s new bride.” The End Nun Pussy “I understand and I am honored.” “In your estimation, does the lass seem pliable.” “She posses a good spirit. The girl juices well.” “Ah. You have fingered her already?” “Briefly. She uses her tongue enthusiastically though she is not practiced.” The older nun smiled lewdly. “You were naughty with her to that extent?” “Only to test her temporal emotions.” Sister Maryam nodded sagely. “Perhaps your bum should pay for your stolen pleasures. You must be chastised.” Maria Clare, still on her knees, lowered her head in obeisance. “If my sister wishes to dispense it.” “Lift your habit and present your generous arse in its natural state.” “You are most kind,” murmured the younger nun, “to deliver the strap to my unworthy, nether cheeks.” Sister Maryam wet her lips in anticipation. “So you crave the strap?” “As we have all learned to do, Sister.” “That is true.” Sister Maryam removed a narrow leather strap from around her waist, doubled it and slapped it once against her left palm. “Let us begin.” Maria Clare raised her skirts until they passed the middle of her back and a part of the hem draped over her head. Her bared buttocks glowed pale in the flickering light of the lone lamp in the room. Sister Maryam thought she noticed a quiver of anticipation on the displayed nether cheeks and felt a certain giving way of moisture in her own private places. She loosened the front of her clothing so that the long, flowing folds of her robes draped open as she moved closer to the target she intended to punish. Had anyone been there to view, they might have caught sight of a thick nipple on one heavy, sagging breast, a flash of heavy thigh and on occasion, a glimpse of a dark, furry triangle of coarse, kinky curls. She hefted the strap. “Perhaps five shall be enough to warm you.” ”As the good sister sees fit,” murmured Maria Clare. Without warning, Sister Maryam brought the strap down, savagely, across the broad beam of butt flesh. SMACK! The crack of leather on soft flesh drowned out the rush of air leaving the victim. “Once one has tasted the strap,” breathed Sister Maryam, “one cannot turn away from its bite. We all crave its warmings.” “Yes Sister,” hissed Maria Clare through gritting teeth. SMACK! The strap left a second, wide, red strip across the white flesh. “It brings our carnal yearnings to the surface,” breathed the perspiring sister, “where they may be dealt with.” “I crave the strap,” grunted Maria Clare. “It comes to cleanse me.” SMACK! “Applying the strap warms the wielder as well as the arse it marks,” wheezed Sister Maryam. SMACK! “I beg permission to give relief for your heat,” gasped Maria Clare. Smack! The final stripe ranged across the other four and made a crisscross on the taut, rounded bottom. “You may turn and address that holy nest you have caused to moisten.” Sister Maryam planted her feet further apart and parted her thighs. She drew away the parted habit to expose her private nest of curls. Maria Clare turned and slipped from her habit altogether leaving herself naked save for her black stockings. Still on her knees, she moved to the shaggy cunt hairs of the older woman. Her fingers reached to part the thick, swollen under lips and opened the nuns brownish-pink inner lining for licking. She extended her tongue and touched the moist labia minora. “Oh yes!,” moaned Sister Maryam. “You tongue is wet and rough against my tender parts.” Feet still well apart, she thrust herself forward as her large ass cheeks clenched tightly in passion as the kneeling sister nibbled at her hairy crotch. Maria Clare saw, at the top of the woman’s crack, an extension, a nub the size of a little finger, though not so long, press forward from its protective sheath and stand out much as a babe’s stiff little member. Immediately she sucked it within her lips and titillated it with her stiff, pointed tongue. The older woman moaned. Her knees buckled and she collapsed to a kneeling position and rolled onto her back. Within seconds Maria Clare turned and straddled the woman. Before she lowered her head to continue her mission she settled her own crotch above Sister Maryam’s face. “You have such a large bud,” gasped Maria Clare. The hips beneath became alive, heaving and thrusting under her lingual assault. Then the young nun felt the old nun’s tongue on the tender slit dividing her nether lips. For long minutes there were only sounds of harsh breathing and wet lapping sounds as though a dog were at the water dish. Then came the moans of mutual pleasure. To Be Continued