Nun Pussy

by80niner©

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.”

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