Maybe it was because nuns aren't used to being nude, but Sister Juliet didn't try to cover herself at all. Her hands were on her hips, the same way she faced us in class on those afternoon when we'd been a little rowdy and needed settling down.
I was fully clothed, except for my shoes, which I still clung to, but I felt the urge to cover myself. It could have been my boner or it could have been a reaction to Sister's nudity; I don't know.
Whatever, Sister Juliet didn't seem to notice. When I didn't respond to her question, she went on whispering, telling me that Sister Margaret was on the alert so I probably couldn't get out the back way. Did I have a suggestion? My classroom self kicked in and I raised my hand; she smiled and nodded for me to speak.
The window, I hissed. The drop, she warned. The porch, I explained.
She pulled back the drapes and carefully raised the blinds. I was standing next to her now, and when her bare arm brushed mine I thought I'd swoon. She didn't seem to notice, but went right on raising the blinds and then slipped the latches on the window. It occurred to me that her room was almost as well secured as her body had been by all those layers. I was just glad summer hadn't arrived yet and the screens weren't up.
We had to pull together to get the window to budge, and then we both stopped at the same second when it broke free and started to fly up. It was lucky we did, for that's just when the dogs barked.
I slipped to the left of the window; Sister jumped to the right. We both slipped our heads around the sill and looked down.
The pastor kept two Dobermans, animals so lean you could see every muscle rippling beneath the skin. They were what we used to scare the first-graders with: If you don't say everything right in Confession, Father'll know and he'll throw you to the dogs. Now these two land sharks were right below us. We could hear the pastor, old Father Joe, talking to someone -- probably Sister Margaret, who was rapidly becoming my personal avenging angel. "I'll keep the dogs out for at least a few hours, Sister," he said. "The boys could use a little exercise. Don't you worry, no one's going to try to get into the convent with them around."
Or try to get out, either, I decided.
Sister must have agreed, because she motioned to me and we silently slid the window closed; she ran down the blinds and pulled the drapes back into place.
We sat down on the edge of her bed. My mind was into complete overload: bed, nun, nude. On the other hand: dogs, Sister Margaret, my parents. Should I have been paying more attention to the class about the Last Rites? Could there possibly be a more extreme unction, whatever an unction was, than the situation I was in?
It was a reasonably warm night, but I was now shivering full-bore and my teeth were even chattering. Sister put her arm around me and hugged me to her, whispering for me to calm down. Calm down? Sister Juliet's left breast was now smack dab against the side of my right arm. I looked down and I could see both breasts, and even -- no, that couldn't be -- yes, a dark triangle in her lap that I recognized from the Playboy I'd seen once over the shoulder of one of the cooler kids before the gang had elbowed me out of the way. Sex education being what it was back then, I had come to the conclusion that the fur must be what the guys called a pussy. Seemed logical at the time. I had a notion that there must be something else to it, because they talked about "putting it inside her," and the hairy patch had seemed too short to go inside of, but then the guys weren't very strong on grammar so who knew? There were a lot of mysteries to their language. To this day I don't know exactly what they meant when they said they had "made out," even though I'm betting I've done it myself a few times.
The point is, I could now see as much of Sister Juliet as I had ever seen of any woman, and that had been just on paper. This was flesh. Warm flesh, I noted, as her breast rode against my arm. Soft, warm flesh.
Somewhere along the line as we had tried the window my cock had deflated -- I'd guess it was when the dogs showed up -- but now it was rising again, bending painfully against my briefs and jeans. I swear the original Levi must have been a eunuch; those things always seem to get smaller the bigger you get, and that zipper is surely the nastiest, sharpest, roughest thing anyone but a masochist would ever put near his cock.
In short, I had stopped shivering but was now cringing in pain as Sister quietly went over the situation like it was a classroom lesson. The window was out; the dogs were a cinch for at least a couple of hours, and we both knew there was no way a klutz like me could outrun them even if I had a full block lead. The doors were out; if Sister Margaret didn't get me I'd still have the dogs. I suggested the basement window and hiding in the garden, figuring there was no point in keeping our entry a secret now. Sister Juliet briefly considered the possibility of staging a diversion that would keep Sister Margaret occupied while I slipped away. But we both agreed that there was no real cover in the garden, and if the dogs caught a whiff of me I'd be a goner. My only chance, Sister Juliet said, was to wait until around 5 a.m. By then Fr. Joe would surely have called it quits, and that's when Sister Margaret was due to be relieved by old Sister Ardethine. She was half-blind and totally deaf, so I should have no problem sneaking out the back way when she was guarding the front. It would still be dark enough for me to get away; I assured Sister I could stay out of trouble until it was a reasonable hour for me to go back home.
That meant a wait of just about six hours, but I wasn't going to quibble at the delay. I was so relieved to have a solution that didn't involve my being ripped into pieces by slavering Dobermans that I slipped my hand around Sister's back and gave her a big hug.
A real big hug. Before I knew what I was doing, my arms were wrapped around Sister Juliet's naked torso, her breasts crushed against my chest. I felt the starchy cloth of her headpiece against my cheek. It was a wonderful moment.
Which, naturally, I ruined by becoming overbalanced and tipping us both over onto our backs. We rolled toward each other and Sister Juliet's smooth face was just an inch or so from mine as I stared directly into her eyes. I could feel her breath.
I could also feel a pain in my right arm, trapped at an odd angle beneath her. I said something suave, like "Ow," and she lifted herself up slightly so I could pull free. On the way out my hand slid along her breast. My thumb made contact with her nipple, which was now stiff. I would like to say that my strong religious upbringing caused me to remove my hand at once and say a few Acts of Contrition, but actually I -- well, I squeezed. It was my first breast, and I wasn't going to let it go so easily.
What was going through Sister's head then I cannot know, but I suspect that's when she finally realized she was naked in bed with an eighth grade boy. I further suspect that they never covered this eventuality in nun school, because she didn't do a thing. Her eyes opened wide and and she moaned a little, which I'm not vain enough to think was a tribute to my skillful manipulation of her tit, but she didn't pull away.
My hormones decided that the absence of a "no" was as good as a "yes," and my left hand swung over and placed itself gently on Sister Juliet's other breast. I now had two handfuls of firm but yielding nun flesh and if I thought my cock was in agony before, that was nothing compared with the pain as the engorged tool strained against my constricting jeans. No pain, no gain, I thought, as I continued to massage Sister's breasts, rubbing my thumbs over the nipples. "We shouldn't," she whispered, but she still wasn't moving, and she was looking me right in the eye.
Her pale lips were parted slightly. In the dim light her face looked like one of the angels in the Madonna shrine, all smooth graceful curves. I leaned forward and kissed her lightly.
There are patron saints for all sorts of things, but I'm pretty sure there is no saint whose job is to watch over oversexed teenagers putting the moves on nuns. If that's true, I don't know how to explain my actions that night, because I went into Sister Juliet's room a social misfit who had no sexual experience and little knowledge. But somehow I managed to avoid doing anything really stupid that would have broken the moment. Maybe it was because I was so scared; maybe some remnant of the respect I'd been trained to have for nuns was translating my raging hormones into gentle caresses. Or maybe even a nun can get hot enough to ignore her lover's fumbling.
Whatever the reason, there was no interruption and my light kiss turned into another and another and got longer and longer. My hands moved up and down Sister Juliet's silken body, sliding around the delicious curves of her legs and over the incredibly lush mounds of her ass. About the time we discovered tongue-kissing, Sister slid one long, lithe leg over mine and I silently shot a load into my briefs.
I had done the deed before, of course, mostly to erotic fantasies about one or another of the Gabor sisters. So sue me; I like accents. The point is, I knew that what I had was called an orgasm -- it's amazing what you can learn from a collegiate dictionary -- but I wasn't entirely sure whether coming in my jeans met the strict definition of "having sex." I knew that doing it by yourself didn't, but after all, there was a woman in the room.
A rather aroused woman by that point, too. Sister Juliet had slipped her hands underneath my t-shirt and was rubbing them up and down my hairless chest as her leg wrapped itself around my waist. In between two of our hot kisses, she grabbed my cotton shirt and pulled it over my head, flinging it aside. Later on I found it draped over the crucifix. That might be irony, even though it was a wooden cross.
Sister's tits pressed right into my skin then, and my arms held her to me tightly. Our kisses were broken now only when we had to take a breath, or when we each went in search of tender flesh, kissing and licking each other's necks, shoulders, cheeks. Sister slid her tongue into my ear and I almost screamed; I returned the favor and her gentle kisses on my shoulder turned into an out-and-out bite.
We were driving each other crazy, but I still had my pants on and my hands hadn't been anywhere near Sister's G spot, or any other part of her erotic alphabet except her tits and her ass. It was a case of the blind leading the blind, or at least the blind doing the blind. We'd run over first base and second and rounded third, but we couldn't seem to find home plate.
Sister got us started in the right direction when her hand stroked over my hip and landed, by accident I'm sure, on top of my still rigid member. I groaned, softly, or she might have just kept going. Instead, she began rubbing up and down and I had to break our kiss as my head fell back and my breath came in short, sharp gasps. I fumbled at my belt and yanked it loose while Sister kept up her massage. I was so horny that I tried to pull my jeans off without even unzipping them first. Sister helped, then, and I kicked my pants off as her soft hands molded themselves to my cock, still inside my soaked briefs.
We were still dancing on the basepaths, though. I had bent my head down to take one of Sister Juliet's tits into my mouth and I was suckling it while one hand twiddled the other nipple; she was giving me a hand job through my underwear and twisting her legs madly, but it didn't get serious until, as I was caressing her flat stomach, my hand reached the edge of her fur patch and kept going and suddenly one of my fingers slid home.
I wasn't the smartest kid in the class for nothing. I realized in a flash just what the guys did when they "put it in," and I had no doubt that what they put in was no finger.
Sister got the idea, too, because she immediately pulled my briefs off. I'm no super stud, and my cock is nothing more than average size and thickness, but I guess to a nun even a pencil dick would have been a big deal. Anyway, Sister gasped when my tool popped free, which alone gave me enough self-confidence to get all the way through four years of high school gym classes.
I slipped off my socks, too -- why, I don't know -- but Sister still had her veil on and I've got to admit, on her at that moment it was incredibly sexy.
Sister had rolled completely over onto her back and spread her legs wide. I crawled between them, my cock hanging down, until I felt the tip make contact with her wetness. I tried several quick lunges then, but missed the mark and rode up onto her belly. This sex thing was not as obvious as it seemed. Sister was wriggling underneath me, which didn't make my aim any easier. I even tried grabbing hold of my tool and poking away, but the dark and my eagerness plus my complete and utter inexperience produced nothing but some frustrating, albeit still exciting, misfires.
Finally Sister reached down herself and guided me in, holding my cock steady at her entrance while she rubbed up and down against it. I wasn't sure if I was going in or just wishing I was until the ridge of the tip popped up into her and there was no longer any room for doubt.
Nor much room for my cock, either. Sister was extremely tight, though at the time I had no grounds for comparison. Her sugar walls gripped me like a vise, and I was afraid to push in any further for fear I'd hurt something.
Sister Juliet stood that only so long before she began humping up at me, urging me deeper. Her breath came in hot puffs and her hands gripped my ass tightly until I got with the program and began to stroke. A couple of inches in or so, I ran into a definite roadblock, and this time even Sister didn't seem eager to ram through. We stopped the motion there, with my cock half-buried in her, and turned our attention back to kissing and groping. Sweat was already pooling on her chest and her breasts were salty when I licked them each in turn.
At last we could take no more. I began to stroke again, slowly, at the same instant as Sister's ass started to squirm under me. In three strokes I was at the obstruction again; three more and I was through, with a slight whimper from Sister. She clutched me for a minute, her legs wrapped so tightly around me that I couldn't move, her fingers digging into my sweaty back. Gradually, she relaxed, and we moved in synch, one thrust answered with another. My cock plunged deeper and deeper into her hot, wet hole until I bottomed out, my sparse pubic hairs grinding against her more luxuriant patch.
We'd probably been wrestling on the bed for a half-hour by then, but we hadn't said more than a dozen words. Now Sister pulled my head down to her, our bodies sliding easily together. "Oh, sweet Jesus," she sighed in my ear. "Sweet mother, yes, child, just like that. Oh, God!"
She was, I don't know, 20-something, and I was just 13, but we were equally naive and maybe that's why we fit so well. My cock slid into her tunnel with perfect timing, and she seemed to know just when to hump back to squeeze out an extra iota of ecstasy. But it wasn't all by instinct on my part; she helped, coaching me: slower, faster, harder; warning me to relax and just hold her now and then. Our passion stretched out endlessly and I seemed to feel every nerve ending on my tool tingling. We kissed again, hungrily, and it was like the kisses were now more important than breathing.
"Harder, now, harder!" Sister whispered in my ear, and I slammed into her. "More, more!" she gasped, and I lifted almost all the way out and drove it home, again and again. The bed began to shake under us, but almost before it began Sister Juliet's legs clamped around me, and a few seconds later her fingers clawed into my back. I heard her catch her breath, and then her body went rigid. For a minute or more I couldn't move, wrapped inside her, as she convulsed over and over, each wave tumbling into the next.
I rode her like a body surfer, hanging on while her legs spread wide and she bucked and heaved. "Blessed Virgin, yes!" she sighed at last as she came to rest and brought her knees up again, sheltering me.
I let her rest a few minutes, but my cock was still hard and I needed some release. Slowly, gently, I began to stroke again. Her tunnel was soaked, and friction was hard to find, so I jiggled from side to side, twisting in. Sister purred and so I kept it up, a steady rhythm that she passively accepted, drilling her sopping wet hole. Sweat was streaming into my eyes and my hair was plastered to my forehead; I could feel the water pour off me when Sister Juliet slid her hands down to my ass and pushed me deeper in. My knees gave out and I was supporting myself only on my arms, but ecstasy overcame exhaustion. In and out, like a metronome, until at last I felt something building.
In all my solo sessions, even when I had creamed while Sister and I were petting, I had never had a feeling like that. Those other times it had come on quickly and was over in a second. Now it built and built, and twice I felt myself dangling on the edge for so excruciatingly long that I had to stop; the feeling was too intense. At last, the feeling crested and I knew this was it. "Sister, Sister, Sister," I hissed over and over as my strokes grew slower and deeper until the explosion came, and so did I. The hot jism felt like fire and the pumping kept going and going, and when it was over, instead of disappearing at once, my hard-on slowly ebbed. Finally it was done, and all of a sudden I could feel the ache in my arms and I rolled onto my side. Sister rolled over to face me. When I put out my hand to her, I could feel the sheets soaking wet beneath her.
"Is that all?" Sister Juliet asked. My mouth fell open. All? I'd suddenly gone from being the only boy in eighth grade who didn't know what a nookie was to being the only one -- well, I was pretty sure, anyway -- who'd ever had sex with an older woman. And a nun. My mind was already blown six ways to Sunday and this woman wanted more?
Yeah, she did. "It's only 1:15," she said with a smile that melted me. The one thing about Sister Juliet that really kept us guys from stepping over that line from rowdy to downright misbehaving was that smile. Tiny dimples formed and her eyes glistened and it made you feel warm all over. Once, in the second week of school that year, a few guys had gotten into a spitball fight. It was the usual thing when we ran into a nun new to the school, testing out the limits, and Sister Juliet had never yelled at us or hit anyone or done any of the other things the real tyrant nuns did, so these guys must have figured they had free rein.
Sister stopped the fight by walking right into the middle of it. She didn't say a word, then or ever, about what those guys had done. But for the next two weeks we didn't see that smile again in class. That was when we -- or at least I -- realized what we were missing. It was the smile that set Sister Juliet apart from the other nuns, even Mother Superior, who was no tyrant herself. But Mother Superior's smile was just a smile, just a pat on the head. Sister Juliet's smile was like the sun after a rainy morning, and you expected rainbows to appear on the walls and the sweet smell of flowers opening.
Now that smile was directed full force at me. How I could see it all so clearly in the still darkened room I'll never know. I guess my memory filled in the details. But with that smile Sister had already convinced me.
Unfortunately, the smile could lift my spirits but it couldn't lift my cock. She massaged it, rubbed her leg against it, to no effect.
Sister's smile was beginning to fade. I tried to think sexy thoughts, but I had to give it up. What could be sexier than the body of Sister Juliet wrapped around mine? If that reality wouldn't work, no fantasy could.
The only thing I could think of was to give Sister at least a little satisfaction. This time when my fingers found her cleft, they were there to stay. It was hot and slippery, even a little bit sticky, and I didn't know enough about anatomy to know what i was looking for, but I stuck my middle finger inside and Sister fell back against the sheets again.
With my left hand busy down below, my right reached out to her breast. Once again I felt its soft weight, and her nipple grew rigid under my touch. All the while I was driving my finger into her hole, and quiet, guttural moans as her head rolled back and forth told me that was the right thing. When my thumb discovered a hard bump at the entrance to her valley, her legs closed around my arm so tight they cut off the circulation for a second. She kept clenching and unclenching them as I worked away. "So good, so good," she said, and it sounded like when she was rewarding me for a good answer in class.
I was concentrating on my manipulations so much that I missed it the first time Sister said it: "Look who's back," she said again, and I looked. Like a dark flagpole, my cock stood tall again against the shadows.
"Hallelujah," Sister Juliet whispered. I tried to rise onto her again, but when my arm buckled under me she rolled me onto my back and took control.
She rose onto her knees and straddled me. Between the twin mounds of her breasts I could see her smiling at me again, the white band of her veil like a halo around her. As gentle as a saint, she moved forward until my cock was rubbing against her pubic patch. She began to move against me, smearing my balls with the ooze from her hole. Her tits bounced enticingly and I reached up and took hold of them. In a moment Sister lifted her body up and I felt the warmth of her tunnel at the tip of my cock. She came down slowly, agonizingly slowly, and she fit me like a hand in a glove. I nearly swooned from the now-familiar sensation as she took me all the way in.
She held me like that as my hands played with her globes. Then she bent down and kissed me full and hard, our lips pressing together while our tongues darted back and forth. Her nipples tapped on my chest, and I wanted to push into her but her ass had me pinioned.
I wrapped my hands around the back of her headpiece, pulling her to me, but this was her time. All too soon for me she rose up again.
Then, in a move that took my breath away, she rose excruciatingly slowly on my pole. I could feel the folds of her tunnel opening up and sliding along my tool, the coolness of the air as each centimeter of cock emerged from the opening in Sister Juliet. At the very top of her rise, with just the head of my cock inside her, Sister suddenly drove down, fast and hard. If it was possible for me to bury even deeper into her than before, I did it then. And over and over again, as she slammed herself against me. The bed shook, but nun's beds had no springs so there were no squeaks to give us away.
The next day, I discovered that I'd bitten my lip hard enough to leave two deep indentations and a little raw flesh. I think it was then that I did it, with Sister plunging onto me so hard I thought the bed would collapse beneath us. My hands had worked their way down to the intoxicating curves of her hips, and I could feel her muscles tensing and letting go as she drove up and down.
Again, and again, and again, and now it was sweet agony as every move turned the ridge of my cock's head into a flaming ring. My eyes were squeezed almost shut and my hands fell back onto the bed. I couldn't return Sister's thrusts; I could barely breath. This time, when she came, her walls contracted around my tool, so tight I thought I could never get loose. Tight and tighter, her muscles massaged my painfully rigid cock.
Each second I was sure I could take it no longer. My fingers dug into the sheet, pulling it loose as I wadded it into my fists. I had to fight to draw a breath. My toes curled; the tendons in my legs stretched to the maximum. And then it was over. I was jelly, unable to move a muscle. It felt as if the skin on my face was sagging into puddles.
And then again, Sister Juliet's tunnel closed on my cock, just for a few seconds of indescribable sensations. Blissful peace again, and then a surge. Her orgasm ebbed away slowly, and I think it was a full 10 minutes before the last gentle throbbing ended.
Sister's head hung down for a few seconds, before she came down, almost falling, on top of me. She had taken me in the middle of her small bed; I had to move aside to give her room to roll onto the sheets. She lay on her side briefly, but even that was too much, and I slid right to the end of the bed, rising onto my side as she slumped face down, arms curling around the one small pillow.
I was, somehow, still erect, and the perfect globes of Sister Juliet's naked ass were too tempting. I rolled on top of her, my cock resting in the valley between those beautiful mounds. Stroking up and down, I kissed her slick back gently. She began to stir when I reached the nape of her neck, and a sigh escaped when my tongue found her ear.
If I were given to boasting, I'd say I discovered anal sex then. Truth is the thought of putting my tool there would never have occurred to me, and if anyone had mentioned it I'm sure I would have been repulsed. (OK, the full truth is I've never done it to this day. Always had enough to keep myself occupied without it, I guess.)
What did happen is that the combination of sweat and cum had Sister's ass so slippery that on one stroke my cock went down instead of forward, and we accidentally discovered doggie style.
At first my cock just rode over the entrance to her tunnel, but Sister Juliet began to shimmy against it and from somewhere got the strength to rise onto her knees, waving that perfect butt up at me. It was easier to aim from that angle, and my pole slipped into her in one push. She was so lubricated by then, though, that I kept sliding out.
I leaned forward and grabbed on to her breasts from behind, pushing my pole as deep into her as I could and restraining my movements to short strokes. That worked great, and we got back into a rhythm, twitching together.
In this new position, I found a different kind of friction, too, helped along when Sister put one hand onto my cock, stroking it as it left her body. When she ran her fingertips along the bottom of it I almost shot, but I grimaced and held back, sliding back into her for a few moments to let the feeling pass.
That gave me some extra time, but not much. A few short strokes later and I could feel the feeling again. I picked up the pace, pounding my cock into Sister Juliet. Long years in the Church must have given us strong knees, because neither one of us weakened despite what had become hours of passion. Sister's head was burrowed into her thin pillow, and her veil had become matted to her back. There wasn't a part of her, or me, that wasn't soaking wet and hot as flame. The sweat was running so hard I had to snort to clear my nose, and my knees were threatening to slip on the sheets, but I held on and continued to blast away.
This time my orgasm was no explosion. As I reached the crest of sensations, my cock suddenly seemed to grow numb. I pushed in desperately and got a shadow of the old feeling, as if I were shooting blanks. My cock throbbed several times, I shook all over and then my muscles went weak again. It was over.
We huddled then like spoons, Sister's ass pillowing my shrunken cock. The bed was a wet, cold mess, but we were beyond caring. I wrapped my right arm around her waist, my forefinger slipping into her navel. We moved only to let her tug her veil free from underneath my head, and then we both drifted off to sleep.
It was still dark when I awoke, but I could smell something. Well, yeah, that, but something else, bitter and -- coffee! I was freaked; how was I going to get out now if all the nuns were downstairs for breakfast?
Sister Juliet, who woke up and rubbed her eyes after I shook her, didn't seem as upset. She was sure it was only the pot of java Sister Margaret slipped on at the end of her shift. Like a lot of old people, the caffeine seemed more of a sleeping aid than a jolt to her, Sister said. But I was still worried, so Sister checked her watch, buried under the pile of clothes on her chair. It was 4:30.
I got out of bed and gathered up my clothes. Sister Juliet, after wadding the sheet up and tossing it aside, got back on the bed. She kept reaching out after me and caressing my thighs or butt as I moved around. I was mostly concerned about getting out of there, but I guess she suspected this would be her last chance at anything and she didn't want to let it go so soon.
I've got to admit, my spirit was willing, too. Sister Juliet's body glistened in the faint light like a garden of earthly delights, and the memory of being inside the nun's hot box was heavenly. But my flesh was way, way too weak -- at least the crucial piece of flesh, which hung down like a dead snake.
My Eve grabbed the snake and tried rubbing it against the apples of her breasts, but it was nothing doing. She pouted as she looked down at it. I was disappointed, too, but time was passing too quickly and I still had to get dressed.
Sister Juliet wouldn't let go, though, and insisted she had to kiss it goodbye.
And so we discovered oral sex. I'd heard guys talking about a "blow job," and I'd even used the term myself, in a metaphorical sense, but I had only a guess at what it really meant. That it was more of a suck job than a blow became pretty darn obvious, though, when my cock began to respond to Sister's gentle kisses and she took it into her mouth.
Since that time I've never had a woman volunteer to do it, and the few who have done it at my urging didn't appear to get very excited at the prospect. But Sister Juliet was almost worshiping my tool, inhaling it to the root even as it grew and stiffened. Only when I was at my limit was she unable to take it all in.
Of all the things I've seen in my life, the one vision that I hope will stay with me to my dying day is what I saw looking down at Sister Juliet stretched out on the bed, one arm propping herself up while the other held my rigid member and guided it in and out of her soft lips. The way her cheek bulged as she took me in, and hollowed as she slowly slid me out. The times she looked up at me with doe eyes, gazing at me while my cock continued to slip in and out. Her legs writhing on the mattress, twisting around and over each other. The sparse hairs of my patch tickling her nose on the downstrokes. Incredible.
With my cock now fully erect, I grabbed onto Sister's veil with both hands and began to pull her face toward me. I was too eager and she started to gag, and her headpiece was pulled askew. When I let up, she popped my penis out of her mouth and took a few deep breaths. I thought it was over.
Instead, she reached back and undid the veil, shaking it free. Her blond hair was very short, almost as short as mine, and she looked boyish. But her body was no boy's, just every boy's dream. She rose off the bed and held me to her and we kissed again, hard and hungrily, as if it was the last time either one of us would ever do it again. I pressed my hands along the ridge of her back, into the dip at the bottom, clenching her firm butt as my cock pulsed against her belly. Her hands entwined themselves in my hair and pulled me deeper and deeper into the kiss. Time lost its meaning and the only thought in my head was of Sister Juliet and her sweet, sweet body.
We did it that last time on the floor, on a bare cotton throw rug, with the one pillow from the bed folded double and bunched under Sister's ass. I entered her slowly again, and her flower opened up to me a petal at a time. When I was all the way in and her velvety tunnel closed around the base of my cock, I bent down to adore her breasts. I took each into my mouth again and again, licking the sides tantalizingly before reaching the center of passion at the tip. My tongue flicked against the nipple while my fingers memorized the curves and I soon had Sister moaning quietly.
Now it was time again, and I began the motion, my hips bucking up and down as Sister returned the favor. It was all slow motion now, savoring every centimeter, till we were down to each individual nerve cell, it seemed, waiting for each one to fire out its message before pushing on to the next. "Glory, glory, glory," Sister Juliet sighed, and I answered, "Amen."
At one point I lifted my torso up and swung her legs to my shoulders, narrowing her opening and creating new levels of ecstasy for us. My hands fluttered up and down the supple muscles of her thighs as I kept up the steady tattoo of my cock inside her.
I dove between her feet again, and her legs locked around me as our passion continued. I was moving my cock from side to side now, scraping against her walls, but even that wasn't enough for her. Sister Juliet slid her own hand between us and I could feel her frantically fiddling with herself even as I drove in and out.
At some point, without speaking, we rolled over, still joined. Sister was on top now, and I alternated between manhandling her bouncing tits and stroking at her love button as she rode me as hard as before. I could feel the juices pouring down my cock and all over my groin, but slick as she was Sister's passion was driving her fast enough to keep my cock entertained.
Once again I let my hands fall back and just enjoyed it all, the delicious pain. Sister was pounding my prick so hard I was afraid that she'd miss the mark on a downstroke and bend it in two before I could do a thing, but the danger just made it more exciting.
When she began to wear out, we shifted positions again. This time I sat on the floor with my back against the bed; Sister Juliet squatted over me and we ended our lovemaking as we had begun in, our lips pressed together, our tongues darting back and forth, lost in each other.
Our thrusts slowed, bit by bit, until she was stopping on each upstroke with just the tip of the tip of my penis inside her, then sliding down, allowing me to feel her opening around me, slowly, slowly, swallowing me into her warmth, enrobing me in hot passion. Up, again, such sweet sorrow, and down. It was more than either one of us could take.
I felt it again, that cliff's-edge feeling, and I warned her but she'd already sensed it somehow, and she was nearing her own peak, and we rushed up to it and slowed just at the edge, one last thrust, deep, deep inside, our bodies closer than ever, one flesh, one desire, and then the exultation, a hot river surging through me and into her body, gushing into her, as she shivered and shook, her muscles clenching and letting go, milking me dry. We let the moment linger, our real orgasms fading into just the memories so imperceptibly I couldn't tell when they really ended.
I was spent, utterly spent, not tired or aching, just completely lifeless, my cock withering within Sister Juliet. I never wanted to leave her.
But far too soon -- any shift would have been too soon, but this was wrenching -- we moved from the sublime to the ridiculous, for we heard voices outside in the hall. I jumped up and Sister groped for her watch: 5:10. These were the early birds; in just five minutes every nun in the convent was to be up and about, preparing for the day. I scrambled into my clothes; Sister helped. She assured me she would be all right on her own, when I offered to help her with her habit. One sock dangling from a pocket and my shirt only half tucked-in, I got to the door and opened it a crack to peek outside. It looked clear. Carefully I began to edge it open more. From nowhere a shadow loomed and a knuckle rapped on the door. "Hurry, Sister Juliet," a voice whispered. "It's our day to cook, you know!"
Behind me, Sister Juliet murmured something like an acknowledgement, but the shadow didn't go away. I looked back; Sister was wrapping bits of cloth all round her; the linen was sticking to her sweaty body. Glancing up and seeing the problem, she came to the door. "I'll be along in a minute, Sister Evangeline," she said, and the shadow moved away.
Sister Juliet took me in her arms then, and we shared one last, searing soul kiss, a kiss we broke and resumed twice before the sounds of plumbing reminded us to hurry. Sister checked the hall this time; the coast was clear. I was out and down the stairs before I knew it, my heart thumping. A noise from above as I reached the bottom spooked me, and I didn't even stop to check if anyone was looking before I grabbed the back door, swung it open and ran off into the edge of dawn.
Eddie never came back to school. Rumors said he'd done something awful to the nuns, but no one was sure what or when. I heard later that they'd given him his diploma anyway, but he spent the next couple of years in a military school. His parents moved away from the neighborhood without ever speaking to anyone about it. I never saw him again; the paper sack with his Scout uniform was still where we'd left it when I retrieved my duffel bag.
Sometime in the year or so after our class graduated, Sister Juliet left the order. At the time I wondered if our one night had, you know, gotten her pregnant. But Mother Superior left about the same time. From stuff I heard from my parents later on and what I've read about Vatican II, my guess now is that they were on the losing end of a battle within their order, probably over something like shortening the hem on the habits to ankle-length or allowing nuns to use shorter veils that showed their ears.
I never did get my revenge on Sister Margaret, or at least not the way I'd figured. The last penmanship classes were dropped, we all got "pass" grades, and she wasn't around when school started up the next fall. A friend of my mom's told her Sister Margaret had been sent to wherever they send senile old nuns. This was weird, because that's what I thought Ss. S&M was. And I couldn't get the full story because my mom's friends always slipped into whispers whenever they got to the good parts in stories, but apparently Sister Margaret kept insisting that the laundry smelled of sex, and they figured she'd lost it.
As for me, well, I wandered through high school half in a daze, which is to say I acted like a normal teenage boy. Freshman year, getting pounded on by seniors and facing hours of homework every night, I lost my longing to be an ordinary kid. By the time I became one, in college, I really, really wanted to be a brainy stud. The brain part is lost forever, but in my sophomore year I finally made a woman my own age. I consider it the second time I lost my virginity.
I still think about Sister Juliet.
I wonder if she thinks about me.