Bill pulled up in front of Alice’s house and killed the engine. They sat in the dark holding hands like a couple of school kids. Well, at least Alice was a school kid.
“When can I see you again, Mr. Walters?” she asked quietly. She knew from this point on their time together would be limited. Although her parents were not coming home until later the next day, she had a came to go to tomorrow and would not be around.
Bill had a family commitment that evening. He always tried to take his daughter out for dinner on a Saturday night. It was the only “family” thing he had left.
“Alice,” Bill replied, knowing that what he was about to say was the same thing that he had said before, “you know this won’t work out. I want you to think about it. I want you to think about ‘us’ and what’s best for you.” He hated saying it. For no other reason than even in the darkened car he could see the look of rejection on her face. He also hated saying it because she was a great fuck and he hadn’t seen a lot of great fucks coming his way lately. That thought he tried to push out of his mind. Alice started to say something but he put is finger to his mouth and shhh’d her.
“Just think about it, OK?”
Alice’s chin was on her chest but she nodded quietly. Unfastening her seatbelt, she leaned over to kiss Bill goodnight, resting her hand between his legs and rubbing him gently while her tongue slipped between his lips. But before Bill could melt completely, Alice pulled away, popped the door open and disappeared into the dark.
The thought crossed Bill’s mind to go after her, but he knew better this time. She had agreed to think about what he said and running after her would just bring them back to where they were rather than possibly moving on. He shifted his car into drive and pulled away.
As he drove home…alone… he thought about the situation he was in. He was 25 years older than Alice, a divorced alcoholic with no business fooling around with an 18-year old girl. Especially when she already had a bad self-image of herself. What’s worse, he had no business having sex with Sister Rose, the principal of the school that Alice and his daughter attended. That could come to no good in a heartbeat. No, that couldn’t happen again. But thinking of Sister Rose between Alice’s legs taking it doggy-style from him just made his cock twitch. It was going to be a long night.
It was already a long night across town in St. Catherine’s convent. Sister Rose, having composed herself after her visit to Bill’s house and her self-gratification in the shower, fed herself in the convent kitchen, poured herself a glass of wine and headed for bed. She lay there, the wine playing with her mind, thinking of the pleasures of the flesh. Not what had happened at Bill’s house, but of her first encounter with her deeply hidden erotic feelings.
Having entered the novitiate right after high school in the early 1960’s, young Rose, the pride of her family for entering the religious life, was untouched by the sexual revolution working its way across the country. Inexperienced in even kissing a member of the opposite sex, young Rose found herself stirred by the sight in the newspaper and television of some many virtually naked young people in New York’s Central Park and the Haight-Asbury section of San Francisco.
Retiring to bed one evening, young Rose explored her body searching for relieve from these strange feelings. She found relief with her hands between her legs, softly stroking herself while thinking of the bodies she had seen. Soon, she was moaning softly as her fingers slipped between the folds of skin that made up her pussy, sliding in and out and over her clit.
It was this moaning that caught the attention of Sister Agnes, the strict taskmaster of the convent under whose tutelage young Rose studied. Sister Agnes opened the door to Rose’s room and catching Rose in mid-orgasm, pulled her wearing only her nightgown from her bed and down the hall to the convent office.
“I am shocked,” Sister Agnes started. “I have brought you into this order so that you can devote the rest of your life to the works of the church and I catch you doing this. I should send you home this evening.”
Young Rose was in tears, kneeling in fear in front of the Mother Superior. It was not the humiliation of being caught nor the fact that she had given in to this temptation, but rather that her family’s pride would be devastated by the dismissal of Rose from the convent. As she sobbed, Sister Agnes stepped forward and pulled Rose’s head to her bosom.
