Impossible DreambyNigel Debonnaire©
"I still don't get how you got all this shit up here, Greggers."
The sun was starting to settle westward over the old neighborhood. The trees were hinting at fall transformation, however the temperatures were still the sultry flavor of August. Perched high above the street, gentle breezes moderated the muggy air. Sister Janice Harper reclined on the chaise lounge sipping her Scotch on the rocks; Father Gregory Harper was busy attending to the aftermath of his grilled chicken breasts and vegetables. She was in her mid 40s, with a round, friendly face, light complexion and wore a very modified habit: the wimple covered her sweaty brow and cropped hair, however her white blouse was gathered under her generous breasts, and tied revealing her white belly and deep navel. Her blue skirt was hiked halfway up her cubby thighs and she was sans hose and shoes, her pudgy toes wiggling in the air.
Fr. Gregory wore grey sweatpants and a Loyola t-shirt. He had slightly greyed dark hair, a chiseled face starting to wrinkle, and a reasonably lean frame for someone just past the half century. Pockets of sweat were under his arms, and he worked quickly to clean the grill. The view from the belfry of St. Munchin's church was stunning, reaching toward the Loop in the North, down south to the Hammond area, eastward to Lake Michigan and westward toward Midway. Fr. Gregory populated the space with lounge furniture, a big screen TV, gas grill, full bar, refrigerator, and closets for other equipment not in view. The ledge was over 4 feet high, making it impossible to see what was happening from below, and a trap door on the floor covered the access from the church below, making the entire place secure from accidental descents.
"I had it all brought up here on a block and tackle, Pookie. There's already a power source for the lights and the automated bells. Just had to put together some weatherproof storage. I use a backpack to bring up supplies most of the time. I trust you find the setting adequate."
"Oh, yes, very adequate. How much time do you spend up here?"
"I'm up here all the time in summer and early fall. No air conditioning down below since we're so close to the Lake, and the Rectory was built in 1920s Gothic awful, so I spend a lot of time up here. Even sleep up here when it's not storming."
"How about emergency calls?"
"My cell phone works just fine up here. Got a spare rabbe and pants in the locker right there. Haven't had to slide down Batman style yet."
Janice looked around at the sky, watching a jet descent into Midway and sipped her drink. "You're lucky. In August, Sister Shelley and I have to lounge in our skivvies with all the windows open, modesty be damned."
"I guess there's not that many peeping toms want to ogle a pair of 40 something nuns over 250 pounds each."
She threw an ice cube at him, just missing him and sailing out over the street. Its faint clink was heard a few seconds afterward. "Now, Pookie, you used to have better aim that that," he chided.
"And you're still a creep, Greggers," she sniffed. "I remember family reunions when we were kids: you were a geeky kid who annoyed everybody, including your own grandmother, before they shipped you off to Seminary in desperation."
"Like that worked. Had to endure four years of that High School concentration camp before I got free and went to Art school. And you're still a bit stuck up, Pookie. Always so dainty, never wanted to get dirty."
Another piece of ice hurtled his way, hitting him in the groin. "That's enough. Who've have thought we'd end up 500 miles away in Chicago working 2 miles apart."
"Not me, that's for sure. How's First Grade at St. Edward the Confessor?"
"Oh, the kids are still excited about being in school all day, but things will settle down. I've only done it for 20 years, and I love it."
"I'll take your word for it."
"And how about your pastorate here?"
"Oh, after a year I think I've finally got a handle on how things work. "
"You shocked everybody when you gave up your Design office and went back to Seminary."
He chuckled. "It turned out all right. I'm happy for the most part." He finished with the grill, looked over the ledge, then threw the cleaning liquids down below. "Another Scotch?"
"You know I never say no," she said, holding out her glass with a smile.
He settled on a comfy chair with a gin and tonic, and they sat together enjoying the evening. Cars passed and horns sounded as car alarms were set off. "Chicago serenade," he said, "hear it all night." She smiled and nodded.
"Greggers, don't you have pigeons up here? Or bats?"
"I work hard to keep them away. Nothing immoral or illegal. Since I'm up here a lot, it's easier to control than my predecessor, who never climbed the ladder."
The sun grew big and turned more orange, shadows lengthened. They sipped their drinks and enjoyed the breze. "Tell me, Greggers, how do you handle it?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" "Oh, I ask all my priest friends. How do you handle celibacy?"
He thought for a minute, and answered: "Only if you answer the same question, Pookie."
"Done," she said without pause.
"I'm picky," he said calmly. "I'm a big of a freak, I like the strange and unconventional, so I make my ideal something so unattainable nothing ordinary really tempts me. I know I've only been a priest for eight years after being a single man on the make for 20, but it's what keeps me focused and safe."
"Not something that will get you into trouble, I trust?"
"No. I believe too much in fair play to take advantage of someone who's vulnerable. It's scary: I can see the temptation, it's like a button sitting there just waiting for me to push, but I can't do it."
"Well, good for you Greggers, you have a virtue I never suspected. Josie told me you were insatiable."
"Josie? When did you know Josie?"
"On the rebound actually. She split with you about ten years ago."
"Twelve. It was twelve years ago."
"Met her here; she was going to be a teacher's aide. Just moved out of your old third story walkup. Got to know each other, and were surprised we both knew you. We were--friendly. One night in the afterglow, she talked about your little--peccadillos."
He took a long sip of his drink, and stared off at a plane coming into land. "I trust she wasn't too. . .forthcoming."
"Oh she told me every detail. Said you were the best lay she ever had, or at least, the best man she ever had. Her problems with you were all relationship, and how you couldn't handle one."
"Touché, Sister." He took another sip.
"We spent a lot of time together for about 18 months. Then she went to the West Coast."
"Bay Area. Got married, had a kid, and got divorced. Like Anne Heche."
"Hmm. We argued about that once. I think it was just before she moved out." There was a pause. He continued: "And how are you coping with celibacy, since you have 13 more years experience than I do. As if I don't know already."
Sister Janice snorted. "I got lucky, and so did Shelley. We found each other in novitiate and always were close to each other. Got jobs in the same school far away from the rest of our sisters, so we have the best of both worlds. We come home in the afternoon, pour a couple of Scotches, say our prayers, have a nice dinner and snuggle until dawn."
"Good for you, Pookie."
"Do you miss sex? You were pretty wild."
"Of course I do. It's a matter of what's important in your life, and my fire isn't a bright as it used to be. But there's a goal I have that keeps me clear: unless I get something in particular, I can control everything."
"And what's the thing you're dreaming of, Greggers? I'm sure you beat off almost every night. What dream keeps you from humping every unclaimed woman in the parish?"
"I can't tell you."
Another ice cube came his way, bouncing off the side of his head. "C'mon, we go back a long way. We knew each other before we became holy. You can tell me; you know I can keep a secret."
He took another gulp of his drink. "It's an impossible dream. That's what keeps me clear and under control"
"Getting a blow job from an unlikely person."
Sister Janice sat up quickly, sweat glistening from her brow and around her bare midriff. Her nipples began to perk in a stray breeze on high. "Tell me, Greggers, tell me. I gotta know. Who do you dream of blowing you?"
Fr. Gregory stood up, a faint bulge unconcealed in his sweat pants. "A relative."
"Who? Freddie Kate? Wilma? Betty?"
"No, none of them. Nor my sister Vivienne either, thank you. God, I know her too well; every time I have an untimely erection, thinking of her makes me limp."
Janice laughed loudly, shaking her shoulders and torso. "Who? Who is it that keeps you focused on the impossible so you can keep the straight and narrow?" "My lesbian second cousin who's a nun."
It took several seconds for the realization to cross her mind. Laughter started belching forth again, fueled by four glasses of Scotch, first in spurts, then increasing to a sustained roar that shook her plump body on the lounger for several moments. "You're so funny, Greggers," she howled. "That's perfect: you dream of me, and can't think of anybody else. Perfect, dammit, perfect." A fresh gale of laughter took her and she was incoherent for several moments.
Fr. Gregory sipped his drink and looked down on the street below. "So how about it, Pookie?" he said quietly when she settled down and came to her senses.
"How about what?" she said, a huge smirk on her face.
"How about a blow job, Sister?"
She laughed a while longer, and settled down when she realized he wasn't entirely joking. "Why me?"
He laughed softly. "I guess I have a little Don Quixote in me. I've always been strangely attracted to you, even when we were kids."
"That's why you teased me so much." She slapped him on the shoulder. "You crumb."
"You know it. And now we're in the same part of Chicago. We're so near. . ."
"There's this little thing about our vows."
He nodded. "Well, we're related, we have share some of the same genes."
"Well, if we do something with each other, then we're only playing with ourselves in an expanded way. We play with ourselves anyway, so that's not going any farther than we are already."
He looked at her with a dumb look of expectation. Shaking her head, she cleared some Scotch fumes and thought about it. "I think that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life," she said at last. "Incest as extended masturbation. Like that makes everything all right; we're not supposed to do that either, technically. Celibacy is frying your tiny little mind."
Nodding, he agreed with her, but the bulge in his sweatpants was growing. "Do you have to get back to Sister Shelly anytime soon?"
Sister Janice shook her head. "She's with her mother this week. Her mom took a turn for the worse, and since Shelley's an only child, she got time off. Like that matters." A snarky smile filled her face.
He looked upward a few moments, then looked back at her. "Let's try it this way: I'll do you first. If I can make you have an orgasm, you blow me."
"Are you fucking nuts, Father? You that cocky about your abilities, which are now really making your sweatpants look desperate." She gave him a quizzical look. "Josie said you were good. Very good. And she said it far too often for my taste."
"Sounds like you're tempted. How long's it been since a man gave you oral sex?"
"A man's never given me oral sex." She said, fussing with greying hair that strayed from her wimple.
A silly smirk formed. "Well, you haven't lived until you've tried it once."
She settled into deep thought for a moment. "What if anybody hears us?" she said with a drunken serious voice.
"We're a long ways up, and nobody's going to hear us down below. Sound travels up, remember? And look around: no building has a view up here. We can do anything we want."
"I sleep naked up here in the summertime. As long as I don't sit on the ledge naked and wave my dick at every passerby, it's private."
Shaking her head, she smiled. "This isn't a good idea, but you've practically dared me. You've always been a cocky bastard, and I'm going to call this one. OK, big boy, eat me out and make me cum. Do that, and I'll suck you dry."
"Can I play with your tits, Pookie?"
"If you've got the balls to play with a lesbian's tits to turn her on, go for it."
"But you leave your wimple on."
"I knew you were still a pervert after all these years, Greggers."
Smiling, he came over and started with a long, sloppy French kiss on her left instep. His tongue quested up and down the arch, taking her by surprise, and moved down to caress her toes. Taking her big toe in his mouth, he sucked it and ran his tongue around her toenail. She gasped and settled back on the chaise lounge, her face suddenly pink and her breathing speeding up.
Gently, he worked his way up her full calves and spent time on the satiny inside of her kneecap. She gasped at the sensations as he savored her salty skin, stroking her meaty thighs up and down and flirting with her grand canyon. His wet tongue ascended bit by bit, and her legs parted in expectation of his arrival at her crotch.
But he sailed past her already dampening swamp to tease her belly button with deep thrusts. As he did so, his hands peeled up her blouse and bra, exposing her great white breasts to the late afternoon sun, her saucer sized nipples peaking in the breeze. His mouth worked its way up to her right breast, circling and teasing, as his left hand wandered to her glass where a lone ice cube rested. As he swirled and liked her right nipple, his left hand rubbed the ice cube around and around her left nipple, making is thick and hard.
Janice sighed and moaned, stroking his head and toying with his ear lobes. A tentative nip of his teeth brought a fresh shudder and a hand pulled his head closer, so he licked and nibbled around her right breast as her left breast was teased and chilled. When the ice cube melted, he fetched another with his other hand and reversed his technique, chilling her pert right nipple with the cold while licked and sucking hard on her cold, rubbery left tit.
Her body began shaking uncontrollably, so he dropped his head and hand to below her waist. Her white ample panties were pulled aside, and the ice cube teased her warm, fragrant valley, driving her wilder, and following a hunch, he pushed what was left of the frozen chuck past her lower lips and into her warm oven. It made her writhe and warble, and so he dived in, his tongue swirling, sucking and licking the mound between her legs, while his fingers sought the wet, warmth below.
She bucked against his mouth, holding his head, until she screamed and screamed and flailed for several moments before she pushed his head away, and settled herself while he licked her thighs to the inside of her kneecap as she rode her climax down.
At last, she lifted his head and looked him deep in the eyes. "All right, stud, you've convinced me. Just know it's been thirty years since I've done anything like this."
"Remember Johnny Robinson?"
"Cousin Johnny? The one with the bubble butt and the dick that looked like a shriveled potato?"
The wimple nodded. "I did him that Christmas Eve you managed to sneak off with cousin Eunice."
"Eunice was a tease. Never let me below her waist."
"Well, Johnny shot his load in fifteen seconds and ran away before paying me back. And he never got me a present."
She stood up and gestured him to lie down. Her slick breasts swayed slightly as she stood before him, her hair frayed wildly from beneath her wimple. Pulling down his sweatpants, his cock bounced as it sprung from its lair, rock hard and red, waiting for her attention. She pulled back the foreskin and blew on the wet head, making him squirm. Then her tongue sought out the underside of his shaft, and worked up and down, avoiding both the sensitive skin of his scrotum and the wet mushroom on top. She looked up at him and he looked down at her fair, full face and long tongue snaking out to tease him.
"Lick my balls Pookie, please, lick my balls."
Her eyebrows danced in challenge for a few moments before her tongue descended to the satiny skin. She was amazed how the spot between his testicles made his cock harder and salivate in expectation, so she licked and swirled it while stroking his shaft with her hand, while he shuddered in joy. After a couple of minutes he started trembling.
"Are you ready to shoot your load, Greggers?"
"Yes, Pookie, yes. Suck my cock, please Sister, please, suck it, suck it."
"All right, Father." She engulfed him, and her soft tongue was everywhere on his quivering skin. The energy built within him, but he struggled to hold it back until he could hold it no longer. Up and down and around her tongue went, until he could take it no longer.
As he shot his load again and again in her wet mouth, the church bell began ringing, sending shockwaves through both of them, although he held her head down and continued his ejaculation while his eardrums vibrated. She swallowed it all as she held her hands over her ears.
He spent himself fully, and she raised up with a questioning look on her face. "What the hell was that?" she asked, dazed.
"The Angelus, Sister. Surely you remember the Angelus."
Shaking her head, she smiled. "The first time I've ever had something that like happen at Angelus."
He raised her face up to his and kissed her gently on the lips. She smiled. "Well, Greggers, this is going to ruin your safety net."
"No, not since I know what I'm looking for, Pookie."
"You're gonna need a new fantasy."
"Don't worry, I'll come up with something."