Father Malone was sipping appreciatively at the cognac in his brandy balloon when the telephone rang at his armchair side. He answered it in a languid tone, but immediately became more attentive and business like when he recognised the voice of the Mother Superior from St Catherine’s Convent.
“Ah, Malone, you old rascal, I realise this is an enormous imposition, but could you possibly accommodate Sister Abigail over the weekend? Our renovation work will be finished on Monday, so it will only be for a couple of days.”
“No imposition at all Mother Superior,” replied Malone. “Send her round when ever you like, I’m not going anywhere.”
After exchanging a few pleasantries with the Mother Superior Malone settled back into his armchair and savoured his cognac. He was not unpleased at the prospect of female company over the weekend, but hoped to God Sister Abigail would not turn out to be a geriatric battle axe. Despite his vow of chastity he liked his women young, nubile and saucy. In fact, the sin of concupiscence had been Malone’s biggest failing during his thirty years in the priesthood. He had tried to fight his lustful nature and stop his furtive visits to the local brothel, but it was no use, his craving for sex was simply too strong. Perhaps Sister Abigail might also have a few failings in that direction he mused, as he eased his ten-inch cock out of his trousers and began to stroke its engorged length.
Sister Abigail arrived on Malone’s doorstep at 6.10pm. She was the epitome of everything he desired in a woman – African, mid twenties, about 5ft 4in, medium build, with a radiant face and beaming smile. He took her hand and helped her over the threshold.
“Let me take your bag, Sister Abigail. I’ve prepared your room and switched on the boiler in case you wish to bathe.”
“Oh thanks Father Malone, that’s very kind of you. Yes, I would like to bathe if you don’t mind.”
“Mind? Of course not; you must treat this as your own home and feel free to do whatever you like,” he reassured her. “Your bathroom is en suite so don’t worry about me, I have my own facilities.”
Malone’s heart was pounding with excitement as he left Abigail to unpack her bag and prepare to bathe. Everything was going according to plan, she had readily agreed to his suggestion to bathe, and now, with his eye glued to the hole he had drilled in her bathroom wall that afternoon, he was desperately eager to view her naked body.
Abigail discarded her nun’s habit on the bed and entered the bathroom with arms fumbling behind her back to unhook her bra fastenings. She released her breasts from their confinement and then, hooking her thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, bent down to remove her nether garment. She had the body of a sprint athlete. Her black skin shone like burnished ebony over rounded muscular buttocks. Her flat stomach, so supple and narrow, accentuated the exquisite curves and thrust of her firm, curvaceous breasts. An inverted triangle of jet black pubic hair surmounted the slit of her vulva; a natural pointer to the warm, orgasmic potential between her legs.
Abigail turned on the bath taps and, while waiting for the tub to fill, began to stretch and exercise her naked body. Malone watched awe-struck at this gymnastic cabaret she was unwittingly performing for his sexual pleasure. Slowly, without taking his eye off Abigail, he peeled back the foreskin covering his huge knob head and anointed it with baby oil. He massaged the fridge-cooled oil delicately around his swollen cock, allowing it to drool liberally down the length of his mighty shaft. Then, with sheer voyeuristic abandon, he furiously began to abuse his lubricated member until he was on the verge of ejaculating. He eased off to prolong his pleasure, but at that point Abigail was exposing her beautiful bottom and genitalia in a rhythmic bending exercise, and Malone could not restrain himself. He ejaculated with a massive shudder of pleasure that convulsed his whole body. Hot jets of white sperm spurted from his pulsating erection and hit the wall as he gasped in blissful satisfaction. Oh, that was sinful, reflected Malone as he cleaned up afterwards, but by God I enjoyed it!
After her bath Abigail went downstairs to join Malone in the lounge. She was dressed in a white towelling bathrobe, with nothing on her feet or head. Malone rose from his seat as she entered the room and offered her a cup of tea.
“Oh, that’s very kind of you Father, but I would prefer something a little stronger if you don’t mind.”
“Will you join me in a cognac?” he asked, somewhat bemused by her lack of Sisterly piety.
“Cognac will be fine, thank you,” she confirmed, relaxing into the armchair opposite Malone’s.
Malone prepared their drinks and handed one to her, noticing a bare stretch of thigh and the scent of jasmine perfume as he did so. She smiled and thanked him in a tone of voice that Malone interpreted as somewhat seductive, and as he returned to his chair he had the distinct impression that Sister Abigail was prick teasing him. No Malone, stop it; you’re becoming a sex maniac, he thought as he sank into his armchair. He reached for his drink and raised it to his lips, and promptly choked at the sight that met his eyes across the room. Sister Abigail was sitting stark naked with her legs hooked over the armchair sides. Malone was astounded, and could only gawp in speechless disbelief as she calmly sipped her cognac.
