Chapter 5
The next morning Sister Anne awoke back in her room at the orphanage with only a foggy idea of how she had arrived there. She remembered the scene on the stage, the orgy, easily enough. Then she remembered drinking wine, and fucking another man ... or was it two men? And then looking for her habit, and finding it torn and disheveled. How would she get back? One of the men was kind, and under cover of darkness he and his car had spirited her back to the orphanage, where she had managed to crawl into her room without being noticed. She had been lucky.
Mixed up with many conflicting thoughts, Sister Anne didn't know just what to do or what to think. She was really ashamed of what had happened the night before. It had been really scandalous. Yet she had enjoyed it so much! The only conclusion which Sister Anne could draw about her delight in the grotesque orgy was that many years of sexual repression demanded some such outlet in which to totally break free of her old hang ups. She just hoped that she would never again have to go through something like that. Being on display for public enjoyment! Horrible!
Troubled as she was, Sister Anne found the old routine of her life calling out to her, like the welcome loving voice of her mother. She dressed and walked down the long corridors to the chapel.
Entering its cool familiar sanctuary, subtly darkened and smelling of the familiar incense, Sister Anne approached the fount, dipped in her hand to the holy water, and touched it to her forehead, her shoulders, making the sign of the cross. This was an action she had done many times of course, touching the fluid to her flesh, but somehow today it felt different, it reminded her of something, but what? Then she knew. It felt like come!
Shaking off this disagreeable sensation, which only recalled to her protesting mind the public humiliation which she had undergone the night before, Sister Anne approached her accustomed pew.
She genuflected before getting into the pew, trying to keep her mind on the Lord and to push all else aside. That was the virtue of the chapel, that it was a sanctuary, a refuge from the world outside, a place where you could be alone with your thoughts and with Jesus Christ.
But she felt something pushing against her thigh, something heavy. It felt like a man's hand! She looked-it was nothing but the rosary, hanging at its accustomed place alongside her thigh, as light as ever. What was she imagining?
Getting into the pew, Sister Anne kneeled down to pray. She recalled the words earlier in the week spoken by the Mother Superior in her address to the young nuns: "Say your rosaries this week for the poor souls in Tai Pei." Yes, Sister Anne thought, that would be the right thing to do, it would be a good way also of getting her mind off her own problems, to think about and pray for those who were even less fortunate, much less fortunate in fact, people who had to really suffer.
Sister Anne kissed the Cross which hung at the end of her rosaries. As she did this, it occurred to her, being in the mood and all, that it would be a good time to do the Five Sorrowful Mysteries. She was not at all in the mood for the Five Joyful Mysteries, and especially not for the Five Glorious Mysteries.
The crown of thorns, the whipping, the burden of the Cross, the blood, the scourge, all of these images flew into her mind, images having to do with the Saviour of mankind, images which seemed to her to be her just deserts for having abandoned all that she had been taught concerning God's will.
She concentrated with all of her might on her prayers, saying each Sorrowful Mystery when she came to the appropriate bead on the rosay, intent on praying, producing very intense Our Fathers and Hail Marys. She was so intent on this that she scarcely heard or saw or in any way noticed when Brother Jerome came in and knelt down onto his knees just a few feet down the pew from her. Nor did she notice his eyes, as they turned to regard her with more than mere Brotherly interest.
Sister Anne continued to pray, but somehow the magical effects of the prayers upon her troubled psyche failed to work, and she found her thoughts drifting back to the scenes that had taken place the night before, to scenes of the orgy, and again she saw hot glistening male bodies and long, lithe cocks, standing high and tall in the firelight.
She shook her head vigorously to clear these horrible images away. In so doing her eyes came into contact with those of Brother Jerome's, and she noticed that he was not praying either but was looking straight at her with a hard and direct stare. It embarrassed her. She turned away, back to her rosary, but this time she really could not keep her mind at it at all. She felt his eyes still upon her, and although she liked Brother Jerome, as he was young and strong and friendly, the coach of the boy's basketball team, still his eyes upon her distracted her, and made her think even more of all sorts of disgusting vile things.
Now knowing how else to escape his unwanted and uncalled for attentions, Sister Anne stood up and decided to do the Stations of the Cross. This ritual would necessitate her walking about the chapel to each of the different stations, and would take her away from the distracting presence of Brother Jerome.
Her thoughts returned to their well-frequented paths, those of religiousity and of pity, pity for Jesus, who was forced to carry the Cross. It was so heavy, he knelt so low under its weight, his face was strained with the exertion and the pain.
Footsteps behind her, hot breath against her neck. Sister Anne did not turn and she did not look to see why. It was her burden, her Cross to bear.
The Stations of the Cross. Christ wearing the Crown of Thorns. How it dug into his flesh! Cutting him! She could see the red blood, oozing out of the scrapes and cuts. It looked like come. No! It didn't look like come, had no resemblance to come. She felt hot breath on her cheek. Could Brother Jerome be following her? She wanted to turn her face, to look and see if it was indeed Brother Jerome, whose breath she could hear, so close to her ear. But her head was immobile, as though sculpted in rock.
Concentrate on Jesus and his sufferings and all will be well. Forget the feelings of lust. They are the work of the devil. But Sister Anne could no longer heed these voices. Despite herself, her face turned, expecting to see the devil, expecting to see ... Brother Jerome!
Their eyes met and locked tightly together. Again Sister Anne felt as if she had been frozen in time, as if the muscles of her body no longer functioned. She was afraid of this man whose steely gray eyes held hers as in a trance. Her knees felt weak and her body began to tremble slightly. She wanted to stop it, to control it, but she could not. She had no control over herself at all. And she found herself growing excited, sexually excited, a kind of wet lust-oozing up from between her legs and infecting her whole body as it traveled. First her belly felt it, and began to shake slightly, but perceptibly, moving as if already in the throes of sexual passion. Then her breast began to heave, and her nipples grew erect. Brother Jerome just stared at her, and he smiled. Did he know the thoughts and feelings passing through her body? Her neck now, too, was excited, but her brain was still repulsed by the whole situation, frightened by Brother Jerome's almost overpowering sexual nearness, angered at his smug expression, as he leered at her.
Her face began to glow with an unholy fire as the sexual desire continued to spread upward. Her mouth opened in a lewd smile, but her brain still rebelled. No, it told her. No, no, no!
Her ears grew warm and she could feel hot wind whistling through her, a wind which blotted out the negative voices.
Then the sexual desire hit her brain, finally, and then all thoughts were one, one desire, one great need, and she reached out her arms, which had suddenly come to life and were again under her control-or were they really under the control of her cunt? It didn't really matter, for they were both, cunt and brain, the same, and working in absolute and exquisite harmony.
Without looking to see if anyone else was in the chapel, Sister Anne's hand grabbed Brother Jerome around his neck and shoulders and drew him to her, in a passionate embrace that was full of suddenly released sexual longing.
Sister Anne moaned with feverish passion, "Oh! Brother Jerome!" Her moans were not without effect upon Brother Jerome, but he suddenly remembered where they were. "Oh, my God! Not here-suppose the Rector was to suddenly come in just as I'm coming! He'd have me horse-whipped!"
"Oh, yes, Brother Jerome, yes, yes! Whip me! Make the blood roll down my face! Just likejust like-our Own Sweet Saviour Jesus-Oh, let me feel what it's like to be tortured-to be scourged and whipped. Oh, my God, yes, whip me!"
He stopped short in sudden surprise. "I, I, I...."
At this point Sister Anne decided to take matters into her own hands. She reached under his cassock and felt a telltale bulge through the layers of coarse cloth. "Ah, ha, so you are turned on too, you would like to really explore the sorrowful mysteries."
Brother Jerome looked abash, "Aw, fuck, Sister Anne, I just want to ram it up your cunt. It's been a mighty long time since I waded into a crazy little bitch of a nun like you."
"Oh, so you have fucked other nuns before!"
Brother Jerome grinned like a fool at that thought and of the fine piece of nookie he was about to get. She was slim but with the firmest tits you could ever hope to see, and actually they weren't all that small, and her trim young legs which he had been dreaming of for the past who-knows-how-many weeks, and her tight young ass that he longed to ram his brick-like prick-"
He came out of his reverie as a sudden sharp pain invaded his balls. "What the...." He started to say, as Sister Anne began to laugh.
"Now you're beginning to get an intimate idea of what it felt like for our Sweet Sweet Baby Jesus!" she burbled out hysterically.
But if the Baby Jesus ever had a set of rosary beads wrapped around his balls and prick, and pulled tight by a nun driven to the absolute edge of human frenzy, it had not come down in any of the gospels.
"I want to see blood dripping down your prick, then I'll lick it off and you can feel the sweet, sweet, bittersweet tingling-Oh the tingling-as my saliva mixes with your salty blood...."
Her crazy talk was beginning to get to him. So what if he was down here in the chapel with a crazy, absolutely sex-crazy nun pulling tight a set of rosary beads around his prick and now she was starting to lick his prick. Oh, wow, this might turn out okay after all, he thought. Of course she was obviously crazy. It was incredible what sexual abstinence could do to you. That was it, of course! She hadn't probably been fucked since she hitched up. Poor kid. She didn't know that celibacy crap was for the birds, and the saints, and the nuts, oh, and maybe the Pope-after all, somebody had to keep up appearances, and the bid guy had everything an old fogey would probably want: money, power. Yeah, all the best ingredients for a choice life, and he didn't even have, to work that much. Politics, it was all politics. Once, not so many years back, Brother Jerome had had fond hopes of becoming Pope. He had a friend in Rome. Ah, but it had never panned out; he never even made Bishop. If only he had learned to kiss ass! Well, maybe he would be able to remedy that failing this very afternoon, for as his hands stole up quickly yet stealthily under Sister Anne's habit, his eager fingers came into intimate contact with a juicy ass that he would just love to kiss, and bite and nibble upon as well. Yes, all of those things, and more, many more. His mouth watered at the thought.
"Sister Anne, I want to kiss your ass," she heard him say, but was too busy to answer back, as her mouth was wrapped tightly around his prick and was moving back and forth in a veritable orgy of voluptuousness.
"Uhhh! Ahhh!" he grunted, feeling her firm lips grab and squeeze his long member, hugging it tightly as her tongue flashed out over its red crown, stiff and hard with lust and with gathering violence of sexual release.
Her head was buried tightly against his genitals and it made quite a strange picture, if anyone had come into the chapel right then, to see a nun with her face burrowing in upon Brother Jerome's cassock, and to hear the slurping sounds which her tongue, lips and cheeks produced.
Her tongue flickered out over the tip of his cock, kissing the point where the seminal fluid shot out, and Brother Jerome winced with pleasure. He no longer worried about anyone coming in. Let them! Let them all see!
As she kissed the very tip of his cock, she wanted more, she wanted the cock to be longer, bigger, to stand out even more from his body. This was rather an unnatural desire, for while Brother Jerome did not possess the largest dick among the Brothers of the Oprhanage (that honor belonged to the Mother Superior's favorite, the afore mentioned Brother Mark) still, his pole was quite sizable and enough to give any girl, even the largest and the biggest cunted, quite a workout.
But Sister Anne's mind was still inflamed both by the Aztec orgy and, even more mysteriously, by the Stations of the Cross. So she grabbed hold of the rosary, which was still wrapped around the base of Brother Jerome's cock and balls, right where they met his groinal region, and while her mouth swallowed down more of his cock, gulping it as if it were a choice morsel of food, she began to pull the rosary tighter, hoping in this way to push the cock right off his body and into her mouth, squeezing it like toothpaste from a tube.
At first Brother Jerome did not even feel this. All of his sensory nerves were more than taken up with just feeling the work which her tongue was doing on his cock tip, for that just felt so fine that there was no room for any other sensations. But Sister Anne kept pulling the rosary tighter and tighter around his cock and balls, and then it began to hurt.
"Ah! Oh!" he ejaculated wordlessly. "What? Oh, oh, stop! Stop! Oh! Oh!"
Good as her lips felt, for she was truly giving him about the finest head he had ever experienced, Brother Jerome tried to shove Sister Anne away from him, for he was suddenly beset by the very real and present fear that her tightening of the rosary around his precious tool was about to disconnect it from his body, and then he would never be able to use it again. No! That could not be!
"Stop! Stop! Please stop!"
But his cries were to no avail, and her hands tightened the rosary still more, as her mouth tried to suck his dick right off his body. This was not characteristic of Sister Anne at all, not of her personality nor of her habits. We can only excuse her on this occasion by remembering the state to which her nerves had been carried by the quick and awesome series of events.
Brother Jerome was strong, and thought he was afraid that if he pushed her head away she would clasp her teeth down upon his prick and bite it right off, a particularly horrible fear, as any man who has ever felt it will readily attest, still he knew that if he didn't do something he would lose his prick anyway. It was already turning blue from lack of blood.
So he shoved her away from him by twisting her shoulders painfully and pushing. Sister Anne suddenly fell upon the floor, bouncing her ass with a great jolt. The jolt seemed to wake her from her trance.
"What?" she exclaimed, looking up past his blue and trembling prick, still draped with the rosary, into his astonished face.
"You were about to remove my sexual member from my body, my dear," he said gently, befitting his role as a gentle messenger of Jesus.
"Oh, my," was all she could say, highly embarrassed and hardly knowing what to expect of herself next.
"Come then, let us a find a more appropriate location for our discussion. Let us say, in this side chapel?" Brother Jerome indicated a chapel which had been decorated many years previously by a very rich patron, who had hired a famous artist, circa 1890, to paint a picture of Saint Sebastian, arrows in his breast, with the patron and his wife praying at the Saint's feet, as was the custom in paintings of the 15th Century. Brother Jerome liked this chapel a lot because it possessed long pews which were wide enough to accommodate his girth (he weighed 230 pounds of hard muscle), and also because the pews had soft cushions along their entire lengths. But most of all he liked it because it was only rarely used for anything other than what he intended to use it for now.
"Come, my dear," he repeated, reaching down and taking Sister Anne by her hand, hoisting her to her pretty little feet, and leading the way into the intimate chapel. Just walking into it always got him hot because of the memories of fine times he had there.
His dick still standing out like a flagpole, he led the young nun to the pew and she sat down. His dick stared her in the face, and Brother Jerome would have liked it if she had closed her lips upon it immediately and recommenced to suck, despite his recent fears of his cock being mutilated. But for some unknown reason Sister Anne did not do this. Unknown to him, at the sight of Saint Sebastian, who had suffered so much because of his faith, Sister Anne was suddenly overcome with self-loathing, and as she looked at Brother Jerome and his immense cock staring her in the face, she was overcome with shame at the extent to which the Blessed Church had fallen in these sad, modern times, and she no longer wanted to be a part of these doings.
"What's wrong?" Brother Jerome asked, sitting down next to her on the pew, his prick gradually subsiding as it realized it would not be getting any of her feminine attentions too quickly.
She said nothing, just looked up tearfully at the image of the Saint, looking at the arrows.
Brother Jerome's hands touched her shoulders and began to work the habit down off them, revealing the soft pink flesh which so enchanted all of his libidinous senses.
His hands stroked her shoulders, continally shoving the habit further and further down the nun's body, until her two massive tits leaped into view, a very appropriate verb because as they cleared the habit, the released force as it pushed past them caused the breasts to wobble and jiggle in momentous fashion, moving like to startled deer in a forest clearing. Brother Jerome could then tell that while Sister Anne's mind might be upon Saint Sebastian, her body was certainly thinking about sex, for her two nipples were as pert and as ready and as erect as any two nipples could be.
"You're beautiful," he expostulated.
Sister Anne did not even hear him. Her mind was far away, both in space and time.
His hands touched her tits gently and caressed them lovingly, admiring xhe way they touched his hands with their nipples, as if her nipples were little fingers reaching out to him, and he really dug the way they rebounded to his touch.
Touching them harder, Brother Jerome squeezed the milky white flesh and pressed in, molding her breasts as if they were made of clay.
Still Sister Anne said nothing and did not move. Her body as a whole did not respond, only her breasts. But they glowed!
"So fine!" Brother Jerome moaned happily, as he brought his lips down to her nipples. His tongue darted out across each nipple in turn, moistening it, feeling its hardness against his soft tongue.
"Yum," he said.
Then he took as much of her left breast into his mouth as he could, which still left quite a bit out of course, for her breasts were not getting any smaller; they were getting bigger, if anything, because of all the sexual attention they had been receiving recently. His lips pulled the tit in and his cheeks distended themselves to receive as much of the curvaceous, soft, tasty flesh as he could manage, sucking it right in. His tongue never stopped moving and licking and kissing and tasting, traveling all over every part of her left breast.
"Our Father...." Sister Anne said, praying, her eyes looking heavenward, trying not to think about what was happening to her body in this world, but only of the Holy World in the Sky.
Meanwhile Brother Jerome's hands were pulling her habit further off of her fine body, anxiously now and in a rush, because the more of her firm, peachy flesh he saw, the more he wanted to see.
The habit slipped to the floor and lay there in a black puddle. Sister Anne's shapely pink and white ankle rose out of the midst of this like two pillars reaching to the sky, and stood there immobile, as Sister Anne desperately tried to disassociate her mind from what was happening to her body.
Brother Jerome gasped with unfeigned delight as all of Sister Anne's lovely nakedness strode into view. Her fine big ass was so delicious that he almost fell to eating it right then, but first he forebore long enough to let his eyes roam eagerly across her body, reveling in its amazing fleshiness and firmness.
Sister Anne could no longer keep her mind away from what was happening to her body. The feelings which had been building up in her cunt could not be resisted any more, especially as soon as she felt Brother Jerome's hot breath whip across her ass. Some of it blew right up between the cleft of her asscheeks, and she could feel its hot power blowing right against her sensitive asshole. This sent tingles throughout her body, and caused goose bumps to form on the delicate flesh of her arms and calves, causing her to shiver all over and almost fall down.
"Oh, Sister, oh!" Brother Jerome moaned softly, as his lips began to kiss her ass all over, firm hard wet kisses, that let his tongue slip out between his lips to wipe her ass softly, as if he was worshipping her, and the more he did it the more Sister Anne came to feel as a kind of Goddess, as a Saint, she began to see herself, instead of Saint Sebastian, in the painting above the altar. So the religious feelings which had been coursing through her body all morning became manifest now as a feeling of sexuality, and they were centered upon her cunt, which blazed with a newly found fire.
She felt the Brother's tongue lapping at her asshole now, and she knelt down a little bit to give him easier egress to this sensitive and hidden spot of her anatomy. His tongue flew in and out of it, lapping away gently yet with a steady force that was driving her wild.
"Oh, yes! Yes! Kiss me! Kiss me there! Yes! You're doing it well! Oh yes!" Sister Anne moaned out in low tones, not wanting to attract the attention of whatever new worshippers were coming into the Chapel, wanting to be alone with Brother Jerome and to feel his tongue all over her body. Gone were any thoughts of protest. Sister Anne was as desirous of this now as was the Brother.
Brother Jerome rose to his feet, his huge cock standing out and jabbing Sister Anne in the belly. His face was red with sexual excitement, and he was breathing heavily.
"Sister Anne," he said, "You are the finest nun in the world. I'm crazy about you. I always have been. But you were always so...."
"Cold?" she finished his hesitating sentence,, His look did not contradict her words. She looked at him triumphantly. "Well, I'm not cold any more. I'm hot as hell, randy, and ready to go. So let's go!"
That was all Brother Jerome needed to know. His prick didn't even need that. It was hard and hot and already digging into her belly, searching for an entrance, an ass, a cunt, a mouth, any kind of entrance, it just wanted in and didn't care how.
"The pew!" he exclaimed, leading her there. It was only a few inches away, so they made it without any trouble, his prick trembling all the while.
He lay her down upon the pew and Sister Anne spread her legs wide, parted thighs moving slowly from side to side, enticingly, urging Brother Jerome on.
Grasping his long cock between his fingers, Brother Jerome aimed it at her cunt.
"Take your cassock off first. I want to see you nude," she said in lewd tones, halting Brother Jerome's progress, but getting him very excited, making him realize that he turned her on as much, or almost as much as she turned him on.
"Yes, yes, right away," he answered her, as a little boy answers his mother who has just told him to wash up before eating his dinner.
In a jiffy the cassock was off, and laying on top of Sister Anne's habit on the floor, just as within seconds Brother Jerome would be laying on top of Sister Anne on the pew's soft, velvet cushion, which was already come-stained from many such sessions in the past.
Her cunt was red and glowing with need, and Brother Jerome's prick found it easily, instantly, and began to burrow inside, as the Brother crouched between her legs, feeling the heat from her crotch spread out to warm him up.
"Ahhh! Oh, so good!" she cooed as she felt the hard tip of his cock split open her cunt lips and began to penetrate deeply into her.
She shifted her hips, to allow him to penetrate more easily, and to get herself comfortable on the pew. It was a soft cushion, but still this was not the best fucking spot in the world, not like a bed, for example.
"Oh, your cunt is fine! So tight, so sensuous," he said to her, as he felt it penetrate all the way in. He was pushing it in slowly, as he wanted to experience all of her cunt in great detail, in close-up, as it were.
But Sister Anne was so enflamed by his cock as it entered into her that she urged him on, she needed all of it inside her right away.
"Faster! Harder! Yes, like that! Yes! More! Yes! Fuck me harder! Faster!"
Her cries were like an insane litany, like a primitive chant that had no end. She cried out to Heaven and thrashed about, as the prick slid deeper and deeper into her cunt.
Having gotten his cock all the way down to the bottom, Brother Jerome shoved it around, exploring all of the soft places within her cunt. Now he wanted to give her one hell of a fine fucking, so in order to get leverage he got his hands beneath her firm fleshy ass and began to lift it up into the air. His knees were on the pew's cushion, so as he lifted her up, all the while keeping his cock buried deeply in her honeypot, he grabbed her legs and pushed them back, back, toward her head, so that her ass faced him and his cock in her cunt had full freedom of movement, and he was in complete control, able to fuck her any way he wanted, and as hard as he wanted, as hard as she wanted, as hard as it was possible for man to fuck woman, for that was as they both wanted it.
This was a new position for Sister Anne, and she relished it. She could feel his cock running against places of her cunt that had never felt a cock before, and it felt great, so great that she almost fainted with the pleasure.
"That feels nice. Yes, very nice," she moaned softly, her lips scarcely opening, her eyes half closed. She looked to be as contented as a kitten, sunning itself on a window sill.
"It's one of the best positions for complete contact and full access," Brother Jerome explained to her, with much the same tone as he used to the students in his economics class. But he fucked her with real gusto, that belied that rather impersonal tone. And besides, feelings of such near heavenly bliss were floating through Sister Anne's body that she discerned no coldness in his tone, discerned nothing but cock.
Sister Anne looked so full and womanly beautiful beneath him as he fucked her, that Brother Jerome reached out with his hands and fondled her breasts as they jiggled all around, like a couple of tops, under the onslaught of his heavy prick, as it rammed and rammed into her honey cunt, making the cream rise and splash out of her in torrential, sudden bursts, like summer showers in the tropics, the kind of rains that accompany the monsoons.
"Eeee! Ohhh!" she moaned, lost in a world of feeling, no longer aware she was in the chapel, thinking of nothing but cock and of what a really fine man Brother Jerome was.
His fingers played with her ass now, feeling the weight of it in his hands as he hoisted her sweet bottom high into the air and bobbled her around like a basketball, but a basketball with a cunt.
His fingers slid up the route between her asscheeks which was, next to her cunt, the warmest and most invigoratingly sexual part of her body. She quivered with expectation as his fingers approached her cunt, and her expectations were not disappointed or frustrated, for as his finger reached her asshole rather than just stop there, it began to manipulate it.
"Yes! Oh yes!" she called out, pleased to discover that Brother Jerome was truly, as he had given promise of being, a real ass man, and that was good to her because she loved her ass being touched.
His fingers first played lightly upon her asshole, touching it repeatedly as if it were a tiny finger drum, the kinds used in various African bands. As he patted out a tympanic message against her asshole, the rhythm spread through her body and exploded in loud noises inside her head, making her dizzy with an increment of lust.
"Ohhhh," she moaned, as though dying.
Brother Jerome let his index finger slide slowly into her asshole. A brief surge of pain was rapidly replaced by complete plasure within Sister Anne as the finger rode in deeper and deeper, as she felt herself being fucked by his cock in her cunt and his finger in her asshole, fucked twice at once, the best possible sensation for any woman, let alone a once uptight nun, to feel.
"Yesss," she hissed, like a snake.
Brother Jerome felt completely in control now, as if he could make this woman do whatever he wanted her to. Pleasure was the key, using it, man could always control a woman. It was his only hope.
He drove his dick into her with every greater fierceness and speed, proud to be man and glad to be alive, exulting in the force of his dick and in the way it was able to drive this incredibly beautiful woman absolutely wild with passion.
"Yes! Yes! Oh! Oh!"
Sister Anne's cunt was now a seething cauldron of juices that had been stirred so much they managed to heat way beyond the boiling point without boiling over which only meant that when they finally were released, it would be with a really awe-inspiring, almost frightening intensity.
Brother Jerome was aware of that, even more so than poor Sister Anne. He knew what was in store for her, but she just kept riding with it blindly, like a surfer on a real fine immense dangerous wave, who is so hypnotized by the exulting feeling of the surf that he forgets all about the dangers that awaits him when the wave finally breaks.
His index finger plunged in and out of her tight, juicy asshole, so hot with passion, and his cock rode in and out of her cunt, both with very similar rhythms, so that Sister Anne lost track of which was which, did not know what was happening to her, only that it was fine.
The walls of her cunt contracted spasmodically around Brother Jerome's ever thrusting hard cock, making a friction full bed for his cock to ride in and out of, and her legs kept thrashing about lewdly in the air.
Her cunt grabbed his cock with such force and speed that Brother Jerome new that she was getting ready to come. He couldn't wait. It would not really be a rare and entrancing sight to see Sister Anne, not only the best-looking nun, but one of the most spectacular women he had ever seen, totally wallowing in lustful excess, absolutely in his control.
Control! The very thought of it gave him pleasure, and got him fucking her with still greater force, so that his cock reared way back into the air and seemed to pause there for a tiny part of a second, to gather new energy, as though soaking it in from the ether, before ramming into her with a fury that few had ever experienced. He was like a wild animal, the way his cock fucked her, with a wild unbridled passion.
"Ahhhh!" she screamed hoarsely, as her orgasm seized her and refused to let go.
Her face had never looked sexier as now, when it was absolutely convulsed with intensely gratified lust. Her eyes were opened wide, shut tight, all within a second; then they opened again.
Her fingernails scraped Brother Jerome's flesh. She was like a mad woman, with no concepts of morals or of good and evil, knowing only the pleasures of the flesh. Her skin broke out in a hot sweat; it bathed her, as after a shower. Her toes curled up tightly, like little babies in the fetal position. Her whole body took on a highly aroused air, and she exuded a strong whiff of unadulterated sex.
Brother Jerome's cock remained firmly embedded in her spasming orgasmic cunt, like a hard rod buried deep in a volcano as it spewed forth its hot lava. But as such a stick cannot stay there long without metling or being spewed away, so, too, did Brother Jerome's cock feel the contagious fire from Sister Anne's sexual organ.
The come gathered at the tip of his cock. He tried to hold it back, but it was no use. He let it flow, and he flowed with it, enjoying one of the greatest orgasms he had ever had in that chapel. He smiled with a wicked gleam spreading across his face as the come flew out of his thrusting cock and shot all the way into the hidden backwaters of the woman's cunt, as her whole body quivered and shook from the force of their mutual orgasms.
Brother Jerome finally lost some of his much vaunted self-control, as his face contorted with pleasure. He screamed low guttural sounding howls, like a dog, as he shot wave after wave of come into her, and he shook her ass from side to side wildly, directing her cunt in swirling movements around his still plunging cock, to get even more varying sensations there against his highly excited membrane.
"Uhhhh," he grunted, as his eyes closed and the last bit of hot come landed in her cunt.
The come drove her out of her mind, and Sister Anne slowly collapsed back onto the pew's cushion, feeling totally worn out, but her whole body glowed with power, filled as it was with Brother Jerome's essential manliness, a gift that would energize her for quite a while to come.
"That was excellent," Brother Jerome commented, as if correcting one of his student's disquisations. His soft cock was now quite limp and wet, and thus it plopped out of her cunt with a characteristic sound.
Sister Anne regarded it lovingly, her eyes open wide, a smile upon her sweet lips. "Oh, Brother Jerome," she said throatily, and that was all.
Saint Sebastian looked down and said nothing at all.