tagErotic PoetrySister Habit

Sister Habit

byNeonurotic©

Church bells bring back weekdays
Sundays, and sometimes Saturday too
entombed in Sister Lena's class.
Other schoolchildren behaved
and unsurprisingly, I did not.

It's that nun habit that started way back then.
The one complete with her in traditional,
old-fashioned, coif and veil,
though really, underneath she wasn't.

Sister would walk by where she punished
me, down on my knees, nose to the stone floor
with the rosary in my mouth, tasting
forgotten prayers that seemed to taste like chicken.

I dared once to feel the silk at her ankle
and catch vanilla and self-denial in her wake.
Not so traditional, not so old-fashioned,
making acting out oh so worth it.

It wasn't because I was so bad she had
me. I think it was more Sister having
a slick dirty little habit herself:
Domina and her weak/7 days a week
or at least that's how my jack-off fantasy plays.

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