Sister Margaret

She gasped, "No! Keep going! We may not have much time."

"Yes, Sister Margaret," I said, and thrust my cock again into her mouth, holding her head, and caressing her hair. I resumed fucking her beautiful mouth and face, but this time faster, grunting softly with each thrust.

I loved how the meat of my manhood looked, slick with her saliva, as it was going back and forth with her lips surrounding it, as her eyes bulged slightly. The pleasure on my member from her mouth was extreme, and something I'd never before felt with my hand.

I grunted a bit louder as I went faster, and felt and saw what had seemed impossible before that day--Sister Margaret on her knees, pleasuring my cock in her mouth. I then felt a sudden welling up, an amazing palace of pleasure that I'd never experienced before. Then I actually reached this palace of heaven as I fucked her face even faster while panting--as my sperm started shooting out.

"Oh Sister Margaret!--Uhhh! Uhhh! Uhh!"

Holding her head as her eyes bulged and watered, my hips and cock spasmed and twitched against her and within her, over and over, as I orgasmed into her mouth for quite a while. I hadn't masturbated for almost a week, and I had a lot of sperm saved up.

"Oh God!--Uhhh!--Oh Sister Margaret! Uhn! I love you! Uhn! I love you! Uhn! Uh. Uh. Ah. Ah."

During this time, I heard her gasping, gulping, and slightly whimpering, as I felt the amazingly pleasurable squirting of my sperm in spurts with each grunt into her mouth.

After I finished, she kept gasping and swallowing, for what seemed like another minute, as some dribbled out of her mouth, and onto her habit.

Finally, I withdrew my now slightly softening penis from her mouth. The near madness of my lust was much reduced, and suddenly I was flooded with worry for Sister Margaret.

Breathing heavily, she gasped, and then whispered, more to herself and to God than to me, "Oh, dear Lord! Sweet Jesus! Thy Will is Hard. But I've swallowed it all. I know that was a deep sin. Forgive me, Jesus. Forgive me, Lord. Forgive me, Mother Mary."

She then crossed herself again.

"I'm so sorry," I said, suddenly filled with shame, as I quickly stuffed my cock back into my pants, and then carefully zipped up, and then refastened my belt.

She said, still breathing hard, and on her knees, but now looking up at me, "No, it's okay, Ben. I was just surprised by the intensity of your lust. There was so much of your seed, and it tasted so strange. I kept swallowing, and you kept thrusting and squirting more. It was much more than I'd expected, and more intimate and intense than I'd imagined. But I don't regret it. I wanted to feel and experience a man's desires--and not just any man's. I wanted to experience your desires for me, and to relieve you of your suffering, even if only for a little while. Now I've done it. I know we've sinned in an awful way, but I also feel that I've given you something good, something that you'll remember for the rest of your life. Some healing after all of your suffering. As you can tell, I've been thinking about this a lot. I've actually been planning to do this for a several days, and I've been praying on it."

This was all a surprise to me, and I said, "Thank you, Sister Margaret, I'll never forget the pleasure you've just given me, or your kindness. Let me help you up."

I helped her to her feet, and she looked at me with a strange combination of desire, disgust, and love, all at the same time. And as I studied her face, she studied mine.

She then said, "You really do love me, Ben, don't you? It's not just lust."

I blushed, and said, "Yes, I love you very much, Sister Margaret. But I also have a lot of lust for you."

She laughed, and then whispered, "Yes, I can tell. Tasting your lust for me just now was one of the most intense experiences of my life. But remember, we can't confess this to anyone. Maybe in ten years, if you have to confess to it, do it with a priest in another city, one where I wouldn't be known--and don't use my name, of course. But for now we must keep this completely secret."

Suddenly the door to the classroom squeaked open, and we heard with horror the voice of the Mother Superior out of sight from us, saying, "Are you in here, Sister Margaret?"

"Yes," Sister Margaret answered back, in a surprisingly natural and cheery voice, "I'm just tidying up here a bit, but I can meet you in your office in a few minutes."

"That sounds fine," said the Mother Superior's voice, "See you soon."

And then the door squeaked closed.

We were staring at each other in silent horror at this close call for several seconds, and then suddenly Sister Margaret broke into quiet giggles, and then I joined her.

Then I whispered, "You have some of my sperm on your habit."

She looked down, and whispered back, "Oh, you're right. I think I just have time to change before seeing the Mother Superior. Go back to your room, and act natural. Don't act suspicious. Go!"

"Okay," I whispered, and then added, "I love you," which she didn't answer, but she smiled back. Then I quickly left the room.

*****

Later in my dorm room I was a jumble of emotions. After the first sex of my life, I'd come back to the dorms and taken a long shower in the big and empty communal bathroom for the male section of the closed orphanage, almost as if I could cleanse away my sin with water and soap. Then I'd dressed up again in a clean school uniform, complete with tie. Then, in the dining hall at dinner, I'd intentionally sat far away from Sister Margaret, avoided eye contact with her, and then excused myself to go to my room as soon as was polite.

Once I got back, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened, and about what the consequences might be. Something beyond any fantasy I'd ever dreamed of had become real, but now it was over. We'd almost been caught, which would have been a disaster. I was sure it had scared Sister Margaret away from me forever. At least we'd had those minutes of pleasure. But then, as I thought about it, I knew that I hadn't really given her very much pleasure, at least compared to what I'd received.

What I knew about sex I'd learned mostly from a former orphan who'd been adopted, but who had visited me a few times. For my 18th birthday, a few months back, he'd given me two old Playboy magazines, and I'd studied those, masturbated to those, and read all the letters to the editor, fiction, and other things, over and over. I'd seen some references to men doing to women kind of like what Sister Margaret had done for me.

Thinking I might go ahead and sin some more to forget, after an hour of pointlessly trying to read more in War and Peace (my bookmark had been seemingly at the halfway point in that one for weeks), I changed into my soft blue flannel pajamas. Then I got out those Playboys, which I kept hidden in a compartment in my suitcase under my bed. I then leafed through them idly for quite a while in my lonely dorm room, as my thoughts continued to swirl.

Maybe at least I could get Sister Margaret some roses and some chocolates, I thought, as I read again through the letters section of the magazines. I'd worked at the Convent Library twelve hours a week for the last few years, and even though it was just minimum wage, I'd saved more than half of my income. And my gifts could be explained as an end-of-year present for a favorite teacher.

Suddenly I heard some quiet steps in the dorm halls. Since I was the last orphan, that seemed impossible. Once in a while the night guard came down these halls, but it was very rare, and he had loud steps, unlike the quiet ones that I was hearing outside.

Then I realized that it might even be the Mother Superior, who maybe had somehow found out--but how?--and maybe she was coming to talk with me about my sin, explaining that I was to be expelled--immediately. I knew she liked me, and took pity on me too, but what I'd done was unforgivable.

Then there was a quiet knock on the door.

"It's me," Sister Margaret's whispered voice said, "Let me in!"

"Oh, thank goodness," I whispered back, smiling, as I opened the door.

After I closed the door behind her, and she put a small bag she'd brought with her on the floor, we embraced. She looked, if possible, even more beautiful than before, with her entrancing brown eyes in her lovely face like windows into her soul.

But I couldn't tell if this was something of a farewell hug or not. I wanted to feel her body, and caress her, but dared not. I was already feeling shame, thinking of how, as I looked at her lips, about how I'd used her mouth, a nun's mouth, for my sinful pleasures.

"I'm sorry for today, Sister Margaret," I said, "As you told me, I'm a sinner. I--"

She whispered, "It was as much my fault as yours. More so, since I'm the teacher and supposedly the responsible one. You may have had your schemes and temptations, but I had my schemes as well--and they coincided. Anyway, it was still pleasurable for me, although I could tell it was even more pleasurable for you."

"Yes," I admitted.

She looked down at my bed and saw the Playboys, which in my near panic I'd forgotten to try and hide. The open one was turned to the first page of the monthly model for that issue.

"Well, I see you've already forgotten me for Miss November!" Sister Margaret said and laughed.

I blushed, and said, "No. You're prettier, but I was just guessing that we'd never do anything again, and so I--"

Sister Margaret said, still laughing, "Well, perhaps there's a chance we won't stop. I honestly don't know. Maybe I want some pleasure from you? I'll need to think about it."

I suddenly noticed that she was wearing pinkish-red lipstick, which I'd never seen on her before.

"Your lips with your lipstick look beautiful," I whispered.

Now it was her turn to blush, as she whispered, "Thanks. Do you really think so? Do you really think I'm beautiful? I know you do, but I want to hear you say it anyway."

"Oh yes, Sister Margaret!" I said, giving up on whispering, since after all this dorm should be empty except for us--but then she immediately interrupted me.

"When we're alone," she said, "just call me Margo. That's the name I use when I'm with close friends, and trying to set aside sometimes that I'm a nun, and am instead just a flawed and sinful human being."

"Yes, Margo," I said, "That's a beautiful name--and you're a very beautiful woman. Your brown eyes are like liquid pools of compassion, intelligence, and sensuality. I know that's corny, but they are. And your dark hair is as soft as a cloud."

She laughed, and said, "Yes, that's really corny, Ben, but I like it anyway. Keep going. I realize that the first time you felt my hair was when I was giving you a blowjob."

"Yes, Margo," I whispered, "but your hair is still soft and beautiful."

I reached up my hand and gently stroked her hair again. She was still wearing her somewhat shapeless habit, which had a long black skirt, but she'd left her cornette somewhere.

"Your lips are like," I laughed then, and added, "I don't know what your lips are like, because I've never seen you with such beautiful pinkish-red lipstick before."

"Yes," Margo said, and smiled seductively, and then added, "They don't really allow us to wear lipstick. I can tell you what my lips are like, using a simile, like I taught you in poetry class last year, but I think it will shock you."

"What are your lips like?" I said, laughing too, not imagining what could shock me.

But then she blushed, leaned forward to me, and whispered in my ear, tickling me a little, "My lips with this lipstick color are like...the color of the opening of my vagina."

She leaned back and studied my reaction.

I was amazed--and shocked, like she'd predicted.

"Really?" I said, after thinking about it for a few seconds, "I've seen some vaginas in Playboy, and they aren't the color of your lipstick--they are just the color of whatever their hair color is down there."

"Oh, you silly boy," Margo said and laughed, and then added, "In the pictures you've seen, the women must not have spread their legs, and so you're not seeing their vaginas, but their closed vulvas. You're just seeing their pubic hair. Let me show you."

She then picked up one of my Playboys and leafed through it, showing me that indeed Miss November and the others hadn't spread their legs in these magazines from the early 1970s, which were already old even then. The Playboy women only trimmed though, and had beautiful triangles of hair, which turned me on a lot. In fact, one of the pages was a bit wrinkled and stained, because my sperm had shot up on to her by accident. I'd tried to wipe it off, but....

Margo said, "Wow, it looks like you liked her a lot!"--and then laughed again.

I blushed, but said, "Well, she's not as pretty as you are--to me, that is."

"How do you know?" Margo asked, and arched her eyebrows, "Since you're never seen me nude--except in your sinning wet dreams, and your sinning waking imagination."

"You're right, Margo. But I wanted to ask you a serious question. Are you considering leaving the Convent? Are you considering giving up being a nun?"

She suddenly got deadly serious, and said, "I'm not sure. But I don't think so. I'm just sinning with you for a while, and I don't know how much or how long, before you go off to college in a few months. If we do anything more, we'll need to be more careful than we were today in my classroom. The Mother Superior almost never comes in there, but today she wanted to talk with me about next year's schedule of classes. That's why I'm here now. It's safer. By the way, if you play your cards right, I might spend the night in your room."

"Won't they check on you in the night?" I said.

"We've already done our nighttime prayers together, and so as long as I'm there well before morning payers at dawn, it should be fine. So are you inviting me to stay the night?"

"Yes, Sister--Margo--of course. And we don't have to do anything, I mean, anything like that. We can just talk, and eventually sleep."

"Maybe," She said with a smile, and then added, "Did you know that men sometimes do for women something similar to what I did for you today in my classroom?"

"Yes, I've read a little about it in Playboy, but I don't know how to do it."

"Well," she said, "I didn't know how to suckle on your manhood until today, but somehow I managed. I think you might manage too, if I let you. But honestly I haven't decided. You probably already think my ideas about sex are strange--crossing myself before putting your cock in my mouth, and then saying a prayer after I'd swallowed your sperm--but just like I think there's something both divine and sinful in your manhood, I think there's also something divine and yet also sinful about my sex. Mary Magdalene was thought by some to be very sexual. And the Virgin Mary was human, of course, and had a...pussy, just like I do."

She went on, "Remember when we studied Vincent Van Gogh in my art history class, and we saw that he found the divine in all sorts of things--a sunflower, a peasant, the sun, the stars, and so on. Well, I believe not only in Jesus, the Heavenly Father, and the Virgin Mary, but I also believe there's that of the divine in many things, including even sexual things. What I'm saying is that there's something...divine between my legs, just as there is for you, even though it's also sinful at the same time. Does that make sense?"

I said, "I don't know, Margo. I think I agree. You always know so much more about almost everything than I do. But I just don't know."

"Well, anyway," she said, "Maybe we can start with you kissing me, and then slowly undressing me down to my underwear."

My eyes got wide as she said that, and I was grateful that I'd brushed my teeth with minty toothpaste not that long ago.

As we sat close to each other on the bed, and I leaned in for a kiss, her frosted pink-red lips parted slightly, and her eyes closed most of the way as our lips met, and then to my surprise and delight our tongues met. It was a slow and sensual kiss, and I dared to reach out and gently feel through her habit Margo's breasts.

The warm and wet kiss felt natural, and almost magical. We separated gently and slowly after several seconds, and I saw pleasure, affection, and warmth in Margo's eyes in a way I hadn't ever seen before in my years of knowing her.

"That felt really nice, Ben," she said, "Even nicer than I thought it would be. Well, I guess another moment of truth for us, and more sin. I've felt you undressing me with your eyes over the last few months, and now, if you want to, you can really undress me."

I simply said "Yes!" But my enthusiasm made Margo giggle.

Over the next few minutes, with just a little help from her, I took off her skirt, vest, blouse, and shoes and socks, caressing her as I went, feeling her soft skin, and breathing heavily. She giggled some more at my obvious enthusiasm, and because sometimes she said I was tickling her, but in a good way.

And when she was just in her lacy white brassiere and her white underwear, I admired what I could see of her body. I looked at her with wonder, because she seemed more like a beautiful woman of twenty-five than thirty-five. She had a curvy but overall slender figure, and silky soft white skin, with just a few freckles and tiny moles.

She laughed, and said, "It seems like this is much better for you than opening all of your Christmas presents at the same time!"

I laughingly said, "Totally! No comparison."

I stared with longing at her mediums-sized breasts, the tops of which were revealed by her bra, and looked at her white undies, which barely covered her mysterious and dark hairy mound beneath.

I swallowed, and then said, "Margo, I want to see and touch you more than I can say, but I also don't want to end your life as a nun."

But she just giggled, as she studied my look of wonder and desire at finally seeing her in her underwear, and said, "Don't worry about that right now. I'll let you know how far you can go. For now, just finish unwrapping some more of me--like the biggest present you ever got. Let me teach you how to undo a bra. A few unfasten at the front, but most at at the back, like this one."

She turned her pretty back to me, and showed me how the fastener worked, and I unfastened it--and with her back still to me her bra dropped to the floor.

Without hesitating, she turned around to show me, looking confident that I'd like her breasts.

Her breasts were really lovely, full and perky, with large pink areolas, and erect pinkish-brown nipples.

"Oh Margo, your breasts are so beautiful!" I said.

She smiled, "Well, now's your chance to fulfill another one of your sinful fantasies--to feel my breasts--and kiss my nipples."

I started doing just that, gently caressing her breasts with my hands, and then kissing around the nipple of her left breast, and then actually on the nipple. They felt amazingly soft and warm.

"That tickles!" she said, and giggled again, but added, "Keep going."

Then suddenly I started suckling on her nipple, as if she had milk, which was another thing I'd fantasized about doing.

She gasped with pleasure, and said, "Mmm. That's right, dear Ben, yes--nurse on me. I wish I had milk for you, but nurse on me anyway. Oh yes! That feels good. More. Even stronger. I do have the milk of human kindness for you. Mmm--good boy, Ben."

She stroked my hair as I nursed.

I then nursed on her other side, which was just as pleasurable.

As I was still suckling, Margo then said, "Mmmm. How often have you thought about...what's between my legs? How often have thought about my pussy over the past few weeks, Ben? Tell me about your most sinful fantasies."

I stopped nursing, sat up, looked into her kind and yet now aroused brown eyes, and said, "It's really been over the past few months. I've fantasized many times about...being between your legs. Sometimes at night I dream that I can see you there, touch you there, kiss you between your legs, and most of all, be inside of you. I dreamed one night I was spying on you as you were peeing. I watched you pee--and then, and this is the crazy part--you caught me, and then you peed on my face to punish me. But then you forgave me, and let me kiss your...your pussy. Then you took hold of my penis, and magically put my erection all the way inside of you--and then I woke up, and my pajamas and my sheets were all wet."