His Daughter's Friend Ch. 05

Bill pulled up in front of Alice’s house and killed the engine. They sat in the dark holding hands like a couple of school kids. Well, at least Alice was a school kid.

“When can I see you again, Mr. Walters?” she asked quietly. She knew from this point on their time together would be limited. Although her parents were not coming home until later the next day, she had a came to go to tomorrow and would not be around.

Bill had a family commitment that evening. He always tried to take his daughter out for dinner on a Saturday night. It was the only “family” thing he had left.

“Alice,” Bill replied, knowing that what he was about to say was the same thing that he had said before, “you know this won’t work out. I want you to think about it. I want you to think about ‘us’ and what’s best for you.” He hated saying it. For no other reason than even in the darkened car he could see the look of rejection on her face. He also hated saying it because she was a great fuck and he hadn’t seen a lot of great fucks coming his way lately. That thought he tried to push out of his mind. Alice started to say something but he put is finger to his mouth and shhh’d her.

“Just think about it, OK?”

Alice’s chin was on her chest but she nodded quietly. Unfastening her seatbelt, she leaned over to kiss Bill goodnight, resting her hand between his legs and rubbing him gently while her tongue slipped between his lips. But before Bill could melt completely, Alice pulled away, popped the door open and disappeared into the dark.

The thought crossed Bill’s mind to go after her, but he knew better this time. She had agreed to think about what he said and running after her would just bring them back to where they were rather than possibly moving on. He shifted his car into drive and pulled away.

As he drove home…alone… he thought about the situation he was in. He was 25 years older than Alice, a divorced alcoholic with no business fooling around with an 18-year old girl. Especially when she already had a bad self-image of herself. What’s worse, he had no business having sex with Sister Rose, the principal of the school that Alice and his daughter attended. That could come to no good in a heartbeat. No, that couldn’t happen again. But thinking of Sister Rose between Alice’s legs taking it doggy-style from him just made his cock twitch. It was going to be a long night.

It was already a long night across town in St. Catherine’s convent. Sister Rose, having composed herself after her visit to Bill’s house and her self-gratification in the shower, fed herself in the convent kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and headed for bed. She lay there, the wine playing with her mind, thinking of the pleasures of the flesh. Not what had happened at Bill’s house, but of her first encounter with her deeply hidden erotic feelings.

Having entered the novitiate right after high school in the early 1960’s, young Rose, the pride of her family for entering the religious life, was untouched by the sexual revolution working its way across the country. Inexperienced in even kissing a member of the opposite sex, young Rose found herself stirred by the sight in the newspaper and television of some many virtually naked young people in New York’s Central Park and the Haight-Asbury section of San Francisco.

Retiring to bed one evening, young Rose explored her body searching for relieve from these strange feelings. She found relief with her hands between her legs, softly stroking herself while thinking of the bodies she had seen. Soon, she was moaning softly as her fingers slipped between the folds of skin that made up her pussy, sliding in and out and over her clit.

It was this moaning that caught the attention of Sister Agnes, the strict taskmaster of the convent under whose tutelage young Rose studied. Sister Agnes opened the door to Rose’s room and catching Rose in mid-orgasm, pulled her wearing only her nightgown from her bed and down the hall to the convent office.

“I am shocked,” Sister Agnes started. “I have brought you into this order so that you can devote the rest of your life to the works of the church and I catch you doing this. I should send you home this evening.”

Young Rose was in tears, kneeling in fear in front of the Mother Superior. It was not the humiliation of being caught nor the fact that she had given in to this temptation, but rather that her family’s pride would be devastated by the dismissal of Rose from the convent. As she sobbed, Sister Agnes stepped forward and pulled Rose’s head to her bosom.

“Rose, it’s natural to have these feelings,” Sister Agnes explained softly. “And, I should send you away. I really should. But I can overlook this provided you are cooperative.”

Rose wiped her tears away. “I’ll do anything you want,” she pleaded. “Please don’t dismiss me.”

Sister Agnes took Rose’s hand, lifted her from her knees and took her out of the office and back to the living quarters of the convent. Once there, they proceeded to Sister Agnes’ room and closed the door behind them. Rose stood in the middle of the room, afraid that she would not become a nun, but rather become the disgrace of her family.

Sister Agnes had locked the door and walked up to Rose from behind. She could smell something as she stood there. Was it Rose’s fear? Was it her sexual excitement that Sister Agnes had interrupted? She lowered her face to Rose’s neck and inhaled her fragrance. What ever the scent was, it stirred Sister Agnes.

“Take off your gown,” she whispered into Rose’s ear.

Rose stood frozen in the middle of the bedroom. She was certain of what she heard, but did not understand why she was asked to disrobe. Sister Agnes had walked around in front of Rose and repeated her request. Puzzled, Rose hesitantly questioned Sister Agnes on her request.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Rose did not see the hand that hit her but her face burned red from the slap.

“Young lady,” Sister Rose said in a threatening voice, “you have no say in what is going on. You can do as I tell you or you can leave. I will not hesitate to put you on the street tonight.”

Rose sobbed as she untied the laces at the top of her gown and let the loose fitting garment slide off her shoulders an into a heap at her feet. Awkwardly she tried to cover nakedness but Sister Agnes would have none of it.

“Put your hands to your side,” she ordered and Rose complied fearing another slap. Sister Agnes looked Rose up and down and was pleased at what she saw. The girl, nineteen-years old, was slight and boyish-looking with small breasts and a dark mound of hair covering her pussy. She turned away from Rose and started to undress herself.

Rose watched Sister Agnes undress, her more mature body revealing itself to the younger girl. Sister Agnes’ body was hardened by long hours toiling in the convent. She had no fat on her, except that her breasts hung heavy and low. Rose stared at the older woman’s body and felt the stirring that she now recognized as being aroused.

“Come join me on the bed,” Sister Rose said as she sat on the edge of the bed. Rose sat next to her, her hands resting on her lap. Sister Agnes lifted Rose’ hand, slid it between her own thighs and started stroking her pussy with it.

“Do to me what you were doing to yourself,” she whispered. Rose’s hand moved up and down over Sister Agnes’ pussy, her fingers sliding between the folds of skin and she spread her legs wider to allow the young girl’s hand to explore deeper. Sister Agnes bent over and took one of Rose’s nipples in her mouth and alternately bit and sucked the nub causing Rose to gasp.

Sister Agnes leaned back on the bed with one leg hanging off the edge opening herself wide to Rose and pulled at Rose’s hand. The young girl started to come up to her but Sister Agnes took her head and guided it down between her legs. Grapping two handfuls of Rose’s short hair, she pulled Rose’s mouth to her pussy.

“Use your tongue on me,” she instructed Rose. When Rose hesitated, Sister Agnes tugged angrily at her hair. “Do it.”

Rose lay between Sister Agnes’ legs, her mind spinning. Mother Superior was ordering her to do something repulsive, yet the alternative was a one-way ticket out of the convent. She again hesitated and again Sister Agnes tugged her closer.

“Do it… or leave.”

Rose knew she had no choice. She extended her tongue until it reached Sister Agnes’ pubic hair and then stopped, but another tug at her hair sent her tongue into Sister Agnes’ pussy.

“That’s right... use your tongue… lick me…”

Rose did as she was told and licked at Sister Agnes’ pussy, probing with her tongue and tasting the older woman’s juices. She gagged and her stomach sickened at this new experience. Tears ran down her cheeks as she buried her face into the wet, dark hair of Sister Agnes’ pussy.

Sister Agnes rocked and moaned, pulling Rose harder and harder into her crotch and lifting her ass off the bed to make it easier for Rose to pleasure her. Finally, Sister Agnes tightened her grip, let out a soft cry and her pussy pulsed as she came on Rose’s face.

It was a few minutes before she let Rose pull away from her. Rose’s face was wet from her own saliva and Sister Agnes’ pussy juice and she sat there waiting for Sister Agnes to say something.

“You did well,” Sister Agnes finally said, “but you will need to do better. You will come to my room when I tell you to and you will do as I say. Any hesitance will be grounds for dismissal. And you will never speak of this to anyone. No one will take your word and you will just sully your own reputation. Do you understand?”

Rose nodded her head.

“You may get dressed and return to your room.”

Rose dressed and left. When she climbed into her own bed, her hands began to explore her own body, squeezing her nipples and rubbing her clit hard until she brought herself to orgasm.

Sister Rose remembered that over the course of her training to become a nun, she visited Sister Agnes’ room three or four times a week, going down on the older woman and developing a “taste”, if you will, for a woman’s pussy. It was that taste that was sparked as she knelt between Alice’s legs and, in a somewhat role-reversal, went down on the 18-year old. Sister Rose had been stroking herself as she remembered both her early days in the convent as well as her visit to Bill’s house. She reached up and flicked nipple on her still small breasts which sent her over the edge and she climaxed. She lay there, her fingers deep in her pussy, feeling the pulsing and contracting of her muscles until she recovered enough to think straight.

How could she be like Sister Agnes was?