Sister Margaret

I slowly got on top of her, and first kissed her breasts, and then suckled on her nipples.

Even as I was doing that, I felt Margo reaching down to take hold of my erection, which she placed at the moist opening of her sex.

But suddenly I was the one who wasn't sure. Was I really about to fuck a nun? What kind of hellfire would I burn in for this, I wondered?

"Are you sure?" I whispered, looking into her eyes.

"Yes," she whispered back, "enter me."

I immediately started pressing my hard cock into Margo's vagina--and she was wet, firm, and felt amazing on my cock.

She was tight, but slowly, inch by inch, gasping as I went, my manhood went deeper and deeper into Sister Margaret's nun cunt.

"Oh my god!" She gasped as I was about halfway in, "Oh my god--it's so big. Ohh! Oh sweet Jesus! Oh yes....Yes! Oh, you're inside me. I like how that feels. Being filled by you. Yes, I really like it. How do I feel to you, Ben?"

Gasping and looking into her eyes, I said, "You feel amazing, Margo. It's beyond--uh--beyond anything I could have imagined. May I start...fucking you now?"

Margo giggled, and said, "Yes, please, Ben. But just start out slow."

Normally I probably would have already been close to cumming already, but since Margo had given me a hand job in the shower about half an hour before, I was not even close to that, even though it was really exciting and felt amazing.

So I slowly started making love to Margo. As I moved inside of her, I was gently kissing her, nibbling on her ears, kissing her breasts and finally kissing her lips and looking into her eyes.

I slowly slid my rigid manhood back and forth deep inside of her, and I could feel that she was very wet. My cock moved very smoothly inside of her, with just a hint of delicious friction. The brief tightness that I felt on entering her was gone.

As I began to increase the speed and intensity of my thrusts, I could see and feel that physically and psychologically it suddenly became much more arousing for Margo. She started gasping, grabbing onto the sheets, her eyes became slightly wild, and she started saying things, along with her gasps and groans.

"Oh, sweet Lord. You're fucking me! Ooooh! Ohhh my gawd! Go faster! Fuck me all the way, Ben!"

With her encouragement, I did start fucking her faster. And after about five more minutes I could feel her orgasm suddenly building up like a wave--and then breaking.

"Oh sweet Jeeeze--gawd! Ohh!"

Margo's body spasmed and trembled beneath me as her orgasm swept through her.

I realized it was time for me to shoot my sperm into Margo, and I hoped it would make her pregnant, so that she'd marry me.

With a last frantic animalistic humping of this beautiful nun, feeling my cock so deep in her cunt that I felt like I'd reached heaven, I finally orgasmed.

I grunted several times as I shot my sperm deep inside her.

I gasped, sweaty and out of breath, as I had finally fulfilled a fantasy that seemed an impossible dream.

And the reality had been much better even than the fantasy.

Exhausted, I slowly separated from her, and then lay down beside her.

We cuddled and smiled. She then asked me to turn out the light, which I got up and did.

And then we quickly fell asleep.

I woke up a couple of hours later, as Margo was getting out of bed. She turned on the light, and her nude beauty was almost painful to be separated from.

She said, "I'm suddenly worried the Mother Superior is going to notice I'm not in my room. I'm going to take a quick shower, and then go back. Goodbye Ben. See you soon. We can talk about all this tomorrow. I love you!"

But in fact, this was the last time I would see her for a month, and the last time we would talk in an intimate way for more than twenty years.

*****

The next day I felt happy, but also worried. Obviously what I had done, what we had done, was a great sin. But, wrongly at that point, I thought maybe it would all work out--although even then that seemed too good to be true. Being an orphan sometimes made me a pessimist.

Again I didn't wear underwear, so that after Margo's class I could sinfully show her once more, even through my slacks, how I felt about her.

But long before I got into my class with Margo at the end of the day, I sensed something was wrong. One of the older Sisters who was one of my teachers looked at me during class in a way that was strange. Suddenly the thought struck me--they knew. Somehow they knew.

I wanted to find Margo, but knew that I should just play it cool until my class with her. But when I walked into Margo's class, and saw the Mother Superior Rebecca there at the front of the classroom, in Margo's place, I knew something had gone very wrong. The Mother Superior, a nice looking woman of fifty (we'd thrown her a birthday party recently), explained to the class that Sister Margaret had been called away for a great spiritual opportunity. Instead she, the Mother Superior, would finish the last few days of Sister Margaret's class.

The Mother Superior looked at me for a moment, significantly and severely, as she said this, and I looked down, crestfallen.

I was barely able to pay attention in class, but did manage to answer the one question the Mother Superior asked me, about the lessons of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet, which was the work with which we were concluding the class.

"Well," I said somberly, "The deaths of the young lovers finally teaches the two families, the Capulets and the Montagues, to put aside their strife. But, obviously, it's too late for Romeo and Juliet. Really, their love was probably doomed even as it began."

"Yes, that's right, Ben," the Mother Superior said, with a slightly unpleasant tone to her voice.

As the bell rang for the end of class, she suddenly said to me, "Ben, please accompany me to my office. Immediately."

*****

After telling her secretary she was not to be disturbed except for a serious emergency, the Mother Superior closed and locked the door of her large office behind me after I entered. The complex, as mentioned, is in the Gothic style, and has heavy stone and concrete walls. Whatever was going to happen in there, I knew, would be just between us.

The spacious rectangular room was decorated with several school trophies and awards, and several religious paintings. She motioned me over to her large and ornate wooden desk, which was cluttered with papers. I sat on the chair next to it obediently, as she then studied my face.

The Mother Superior had always been supportive of me, for instance by allowing me to stay there as their last orphan, after the orphanage had closed. But today I felt that things would be different.

She said, "Sister Margaret has confessed everything to me, and so you needn't try to deny it. She's said that you told her of your feelings of love and lust for her in her classroom, and that in trying to counsel you about them she very inappropriately went to your room last night, and stayed with you for several hours. She admitted that she had thoughts of what she thinks are love and lust for you as well. She even confessed that she...pleasured you with her mouth in her classroom, and that you later did the same for her in your bed. But she swore that you never had intercourse. She said that although her feelings for you are strong, that she wants to remain a nun. She still wants to be married to Christ. Is this all true?"

I couldn't believe that Margo had confessed so much to the Mother Superior, even though she'd left out that I had fucked her. Sister Margaret must really want to remain a nun, I realized with a heavy heart. My hope was that Margo was already pregnant, but what chance was there of that after just one time? I had no idea. My mind was in a whirl.

I felt like I had no choice, and so I nodded.

She said, "I'll need to hear you say it."

Still looking down, I said, "Yes, it's all true, Mother Superior."

She nodded, saying, "Thank you for telling me the truth. And have you also revealed any of these things in confession with a priest?"

"Not yet, Mother Superior," I said

She looked quite relieved at this, and said, "Well, as strange as it sounds, I'm going to ask you to promise to never admit to your sexual relationship with Sister Margaret in confession, or to anyone else. We need to preserve her position. Do you promise? This is what Sister Margaret wants. She told me so herself."

Although the Mother Superior's tone was somewhat harsh, I believed her. And because I loved Margo, of course I wanted to respect what seemed to be her wishes.

I said, even more somberly than I'd answered the question about Romeo and Juliet in class, "Yes, I promise."

I understood that at this point I was surely going to be expelled from the school, cast off from the only home I'd known since my parents died. I was in shock. But it got worse.

The Mother Superior then lifted from her desk and pushed toward me a one-page typed document.

"Based on what Sister Margaret said to me, this is a your detailed admission of guilt. I need you to sign it."

I picked it up, and listlessly dragged my eyes across it.

It was written in the first person: "I confess that I have partially seduced a Sister of this Order, and lured her into lewd acts that she did not fully understand."

I saw that the Mother Superior had omitted Margaret's name to protect her. I actually agreed with that, although it seemed like it made things worse for me.

"I willfully exposed my erect penis to the Sister in her classroom, and then lured her into servicing me with her mouth. I then lured her to my bedroom, and tricked her into removing her habit and underclothes, and revealing her God-given beauty to me. I kissed her several places, including her lips, breasts, and especially her privates. I licked her privates until the Sister experienced an orgasm. I did not, however, engage in intercourse with the Sister. She is intact, and still married to Christ. I swear that all of the above is true, and I accept whatever punishment is due to me."

Although it was somewhat twisted around, and made it seem like it was all me, rather than something mutual between me and Margo, I realized it was sort-of true--except for the part saying I hadn't fucked her.

I didn't feel that I had much of a choice, and so I signed it, slowly and clearly, so that my signature would be readable. In any case, my full name was typed right under the line I'd signed on, along with the date.

The Mother Superior then said, "Good. Thank you for signing that, which I will keep in our safe in case it's needed. I believe you when you say you won't reveal what you've done. Your feelings for Sister Margaret, as misguided as they are, will keep you to your promise. For now, you will not be expelled."

I was surprised I wasn't being expelled immediately, but at this point I was just trying to survive whatever consequences were going to befall me.

I said quietly, "Yes. I understand, Mother Superior."

*****

I wasn't expelled, but for the rest of my few months there I saw little of Sister Margaret, just a few glimpses really. Our eyes met once, and I saw pain, love, and uncertainty in her glance. It was too difficult for me, and so I looked away. It seemed she hadn't gotten pregnant.

With the Mother Superior's permission, and probably relief, I took most of the rest of the meals in my room for my few remaining months as their last orphan. When I finally packed up and left, I realized I might never be back. No one came out to bid me farewell, and this place, and the people in it, which had been such a big part of my life for so long, were just suddenly in the past.

At the state university I dedicated myself, and was an academic success. Majoring in computer science I met my future wife, who had the same major.

Although we hoped for it for many years, and through some treatments, we were not blessed with children.

But our careers in the growing field of technology were mostly fulfilling, and in a few years we were prosperous.

During this time I fell away from the faith. Catholicism still had an appeal for me, in spite of differences I had with some its doctrines, but I understandably felt I had failed the faith more than it had failed me.

I never told my wife about what had happened, saying only that I'd briefly had a girlfriend in the convent, saying it was another student. But I told her I didn't want to talk about it, which she accepted.

Starting in my mid-20s, however, I began to receive personally written appeals for financial donations from Sister Margaret, who was still the Chair of the fundraising committee.

I gave. Out of guilt, gratitude, and even love, I gave. And each year I gave more generously. Without children, and with relatively simple tastes, we had excess income, and my spouse understood that I was paying back, with interest, what the long-closed orphanage had done for me.

At the age of 39 cancer struck my wife, and at the age of 40, tragically, she was gone.

I was bereft and alone, and finally accepted the invitation of now Mother Superior Margaret to be personally thanked for my many years of generosity. Because of stock options I'd gotten over the last several years that had paid off, my donations had for the last half decade been in the range of half a million a year. I'd been told that I'd paid for many scholarships for deserving students, lots of building maintenance, religious trips for the Sisters and staff, and so on.

*****

Dressed in my best suit, which is pretty nice, I cautiously and nervously announced my presence to Mother Superior Margaret's secretary. She was a nun who I realized was probably younger than Margo had been when....I couldn't think of that. This was going to be awkward, I realized, and only my loneliness, and the increasingly insistent pleas of Mother Superior Margaret in her letters to me for a personal meeting could have induced me to come here again.

The place seemed somewhat smaller than I'd remembered, and yet still large and somewhat forbidding. It was cheered up though, by a beautiful and large garden of flowers, fruit trees, and vegetables patches out front, which was quite colorful. I saw, with embarrassment but also pride, that the garden had my name on it, announced with a bronze plaque mounted on a small stone marker.

The secretary, Sister Lisa, greeted me with a grateful look in her eyes, and told me she thought she was never going to meet their mysterious benefactor. I smiled and blushed, knowing that if she knew the truth it would shock her beyond measure. I still felt ashamed.

In fact, I felt so ashamed that after a few minutes I suddenly got up, and was about to leave--but at that moment Mother Superior Margaret opened the door to her office, and said to me in a familiar and warm voice, "Well, Ben, finally I get to see you again. Please come in!"

She had obviously aged in the 22 years since I'd last seen her, but gracefully. I knew she was now 57, but as before she looked about a decade younger than her years. She was still quite lovely.

Involuntarily I thought about how I'd once between between Margo's legs, and kissed and licked her pussy--and I suddenly blushed and looked down.

"Hello, Mother Superior," I said, somewhat shyly, "It's very nice of you to see me."

"Of course I'm going to see you, Ben," she said, "After all, you've been our biggest donor for more than ten years."

She turned to her secretary, who had gotten up from her desk and was looking at me curiously, and said, "Sister Lisa, please see to it that we are not disturbed for at least an hour, unless it is a very serious emergency."

"Yes, Mother Superior," Sister Lisa said, and smiled at me warmly as the Mother Superior ushered me into her office.

Entering this somewhat dim and cool space, I blanched as I remembered the last time I was there.

"I read with great sadness in the newspaper," Margaret said as she walked slowly into her office, glancing my way, "of your wife's passing a few months ago. You have my deepest sympathies."

"Thank you Margo--Thank you, Mother Superior. I'm sorry. I promised myself I wasn't going to say that! Yes, it was quite a blow to lose her. I've been lonely, but I have my work, my hobbies, and my friends."

I was embarrassed again, and looked down.

"Oh Ben," she said warmly, and stopped, took my hand, and pressed it against her cheek, "It's okay. You calling me by my name just makes me realize that you still remember what we used to mean to each other--and what maybe we still mean to each other, in a way."

As we stood next to her desk, she then gently moved my hand to caress her cheek, which I gladly did, while looking into her beautiful brown eyes.

"After all," she continued on, while gently kissing my hand and fingers, "You used to know me when I was young and beautiful, and I think you even fell in love with me."

I was taken aback, and now it was her turn to blush, as she slowly released my hand.

"Mother Superior, you're still lovely, as I think you know. Time has been kind to you."

She replied back, "Time has been kind to you too, Ben. You're even more handsome than when you were here long ago. But come back to my apartment, I want to show you a book."

She opened a door behind the desk in the big room, which I barely noticed when I'd been here before, and behind I could see a modest but comfortable apartment, which we stepped down into, and then she closed the door--and locked it behind her.

This studio apartment, whose curtained windows faced out on the courtyard, had a simple kitchen, a modest living room, a bed against a wall, and a bathroom visible through an open door, was clearly the personal quarters of the Mother Superior.

Her mentioning the book had made me think I was misreading the situation, but then I was even more puzzled when she handed me the book and I saw the title:

"The Sexuality of Christ in Art," by Leon Berg.

It had on its cover a work of art of a sculpture of Christ, apparently after his crucifixion, and when he had arisen. He was whole and alive again, all wounds healed, and he stood holding up a now symbolic crucifix. Christ was also nude--and his penis was visible. He wasn't aroused, of course, but nonetheless it was surprising, especially when I saw the name of the artist--Michelangelo. I knew, of course, of Michelangelo's famous nude David, but I'd somehow never seen this one.

Amused and puzzled, I looked at Margo, and she smiled at me, and said, "Please, Ben, read the back cover to me aloud."

I laughed a little, and said, "Okay."

I read slowly and deliberately to her:

"After centuries of censorship, the sexual element found in many paintings and sculptures of Christ from the Renaissance forward are restored to visibility. The evidence resides in the imagery of the overtly sexed Christ, in infancy, adulthood, and again after the crucifixion. The author argues that artists regarded the deliberate exposure of Christ's genitalia as an affirmation of his kinship with the human condition."

I looked up at her again, and she said, smiling, "You thought I was a little crazy all those years ago, when I talked with you about the sexuality of Christ, but there it is, in that book, and in all those works of art."

I smiled, and said, "Yes, I guess you were right after all. Thank you for teaching me--yet again."

She smiled back, and said, "And that part about 'deliberately exposed genitalia'--that's what you did for me, and what I did for you."

I was ashamed and looked down, and could only manage to say, slowly, "I'm sorry, Margo--Sister Margaret. I mean Mother Superior."

But as I was looking down and struggling to talk, I could hear the rusting of clothes. At first I couldn't imagine what the sounds could be, but then I realized that Margo was taking off her clothes.