It was a strange place, that ancient monastery perched precariously on the craggy mountainside. The structure was so old no one remembered the order that built it. Through the years, it became more and more isolated from the small village below, where the inhabitants became fewer and fewer. The monastery sat side by side next to a convent of cloistered nuns of a most strict and holy order. A thick stone wall symbolically separated the two orders and they were mutually exclusive of one another.
The abbey and the monetary fell into disrepair and over the ensuing centuries fell into near ruin. Ceremonies, rites and their liturgies changed until certain holy rituals became unrecognizable.
Only occasionally, was a young girl accepted from the village to be trained into the sisterhood and just as seldom was a young man introduced into the solemn order of brothers.
Thus were these walled retreats divided, half masculine monetary, half a cloister for the Holy Sisters of the Virgin Faith.
Entering the year of their Lord, 1369, fewer than a dozen able bodied monks inhabited one side of the divided courtyard and perhaps as few sacred sisters the other. Due to their isolation the original rites had their faith became altered. Their rituals widely diverged from the original intent. So seldom did the opposite sects see each other that knowledge of the other’s differences were but mere inferences alluding to rumors of glimpses of bodies long dead and secret manuscripts that depicted such couplings as only infidels might indulge in.
Young men, what few arrived, entered the monetary at a tender age and had no knowledge of women save an occasional glance at Easter of the totally covered nuns of the convent beyond the wall. Women, when they were mentioned, were spoken of as instruments of the devil, hideously ugly of body, and a corruption to all men’s souls.
Young Zachary was the product of his environment. Now in his twentieth year and the third year of his priestly education, he neared his confirmation date. Since his fifteenth year he had been assigned to Brother Bartholomew and so spent a weekly session in the good Brother’s cell massaging the old monks prostrate until he erupted his manly effusion deep within the old monk’s bowels. Afterward, he sipped of the old monk’s semi-rigid member until he weakly spurted his bitter seed into the younger one’s gullet. Zachary no longer looked forward to these weekly sessions and his penetration of the old man’s puckered, but fuck-loosened, rear opening.
From time to time, the senior monks, wandering among the ruins, prevailed upon the young man to bend forward, hands on knees and accommodate their stout weapons between his muscular cheeks and into his small opening and up his tender rectum to their full length.
This evening, at dusk, he pressed forward, hands upon a low place on the wall separating the Abbey from the Monastery. He grunted as the older monk stood behind his raised cassock and, without foreplay, buried his thick prick to the short hairs, in Zachary’s tight bottom. The good Father’s naked loins thumped rhythmically against the young man’s bare buns.
“Please,” muttered The young man. “Spare me such violence. You go at it much to roughly.”
Brother Bradford snorted as he continued his fast ins and outs. “Hush. I take you no more roughly than I was often taken when I shared your station.”
“I could enjoy it if only you were not so violent,” protested the younger one.
“Hush, you will call the attention of yon approaching whores from beyond the wall. They will hear you.”
Zachary lifted his head to observe a swinging lantern, a lighted candle within, then discerned a dark hooded figure approaching one of the two small sheds situated near the wall.
“They come toward us?”
“They visit yonder sheds, nightly to raise their habits and attend to their pissings and shittings,” said Brother Bradford.
“I should dearly love to see,” said the young Zachary, “a sainted sister splashing down her holy water.”
“No!” grunted the monk as he punished the young man’s arsehole. “It would be disgusting. Nuns are frightfully deformed and ugly in their pissing place. They lack the grace and form of a good monk’s fine prick.” He sawed in and out quickly until he became quite breathless and spurted his surging juices deep within the young man’s bowels.
Brother Bradford let his cassock fall about him and turned away, leaving his young charge dripping from his rear passage as the two approaching nuns reached their goal in the fast developing darkness. *** Sister Maria Clare, making her nightly pilgrimage, took the path from the convent to the secluded outhouses reserved for the cloistered nuns. From the path, she caught glimpses of the monastery beyond the ivied stone wall. For a moment she thought she detected a movement in the shadows but concluded it must be her imagination. Sister Maria Clare swung the small lantern around and saw nothing. The good sister continued down the path and came upon a young girl holding her shielded candle and fearing to further traverse down the dark path alone. The youthful novitiate appeared flustered as the nun approached.
“You are new here,“ said the older nun, who, in truth was but thirty-four. “Sister, I am troubled and confused at seeing the shadows move beyond the wall,” blurted young Rachael. “Those shapeless shapes truly frighten me.”
“You might have glimpsed a visiting brother’s outdoor atonement. Perhaps he was relieving himself and inadvertently exposed a portion of himself.” The older nun smiled, good naturedly.
“What could a good father be display that should so upset me?” the young lady asked innocently. “No. I saw two of them glued together, front to back. And one rode the other as a donkey mounts an ass.”
“I dare suggest another species of ass was mounted,” said Maria Clare. “I am told the brothers practice unholy rites best left unmentioned,” said Maria Clare. “Please relate what upset you so?”
“Their antics recalled a book I chanced upon in the Mother Superior’s library while dusting,” said Rachael. “She apparently dozed off while reading and on awaking did not return the volume to the forbidden shelves.”
“What books does the holy mother read these days?”
“Perhaps I should make no mention of it. It was shocking in the extreme and I know so little of carnal things.”
“You tweak my curiosity, strangely. Speak more of this book as we walk.” Maria Clare gently led the girl toward the small, dark buildings.
“A big book, very old, with fine leather binding, filled with depictions of men uncovered. Strange, stiff instruments jut outward from between sturdy legs. Some accommodate those instruments in their mouths while others thrust them into each other’s backsides. Those illustrations made me feel most strange.”
“How odd,” said the older woman. “This apparatus between their legs, describe how you viewed it.”
“A bar of angry flesh projecting from a nest of hair similar to the mossy growth around a most secret portion of my person. I presume such a growth of curls appears on others as well.”
“You presume correctly,” said the older woman, “at least that is my experience.”
“You have viewed such secret places of others.”
“I have observed such,” conceded Maria Clare.
“I know nothing those mysteries and I dare not observe myself too closely in my mirror lest I sin greatly against my own person.”
“Tis a small sin.” The older woman smiled and reached out to touch the lass’s hand. “Perhaps in the pissing shed we can reveal to each other those hidden parts.”
The girl blushed in the darkness. “Surely that would be a grievous sin.”
“Only if you believe it such.” The nun raised her lantern to view the other’s face. “You are a pretty girl and very new to our order. Here, we leave that other world behind. Inside, we shall raise our habits and compare our curly treasures by candle light.”
“You enjoy making such comparisons?”
The nun smiled wryly and nodded. Though not yet forty, she appeared, to the novitiate, ancient and worldly wise. “I have observed the other sister’s in their unfrocked state. I have, in turn, revealed my hirsute embossment to them. It is not an act one mentions in confession.”
“And all possess that hairy nest covering their slits?”
“All cunts are so adorned unless shorn of such adornment as I understand some holy orders demand.”
“Such admission excites me. I am becoming moist in that place others speak of only with shame.”
“We shall lift the skirts of your habit to ascertain if all goes well in that region.”
“I shall die of shame, yet I am most eager to be told I am normal.”
”You will suffer only pleasure, I promise.”
“Pray, good sister, might I examine you?“
