Author's meanderings: Thanks again to Kenji Sato for his skilled proofreading. You can, of course, wank alone or mutually, or read as you're making love, this chapter on its own, but it might make a tad more sense, if you read chapter one. Up to you, of course. Enjoy, and I hope it gives you as many great climaxes, as writing these stories gives me.
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Sisters of Divine Joy 02
After lunch, the Mother Superior was sitting in the front seat of the convent car. In the driver's seat was Sister Lucy, the convent treasurer. They were on their way to the house of Mrs. Heaton. She was a major benefactor of the order. She was also a life-long lesbian. The meetings with her, always had an interesting and salacious ending.
Elanor felt wetness between her legs. A trickle of cum ran out of her hole, down over her arse. She glanced over to Lucy, who was smiling at her, knowing what she was thinking about. Elanor smiled back. She reached across with her right hand and pulled Lucy's habit up enough, so she could get to her hairy clam. Lucy was as hirsute as all the other sisters, and Elanor's forefinger had to work through a thicket to find Lucy's clit.
Elanor knew Lucy's clit well, as she did all of the sisters' at the convent. Of course, they were all different. Lucy's felt like a ridge more than a bump. Elanor reflected on, as she stroked, that actually most of the clits she had come into contact with, felt more like ridges than bumps or small cocks. Like with a lot of sex, porn had a lot to answer for. The two-inch clit and tongue that could get actually inside a pussy hole, were largely invented fantasies for men's enjoyment.
"Mind you," she thought, as she changed her motion to a slow circling, which brought a groan from Lucy, "whatever their shape, if you play them right, you can make someone very happy!"
So it was that by the time they drove through the gate of a large country house and parked, Lucy's seat was damp with her juices. As they walked to the door, Elanor stroked Lucy's pert little bottom. She also looked around and thought how lovely this part of the country was. The house, like their convent, was on the edge of Dartmoor. Okay, it could get pretty windswept and rugged in the autumn and winter, but even that had its own grandeur. And in the spring and summer, the soft colours of the heather were spectacular.
It was early May, as she stood fondling her treasurer's arse, waiting for the door to be opened, and the hills above the house were covered with gorgeous purple heather. She was smiling when the door opened. It was a new maid who stood there. She looked to be in her early twenties, and as with all of Mrs. Heaton's staff, she was bloody gorgeous.
With a smile, the maid showed them through to the study.
Mrs. Heaton was sitting at her desk. Physically she was almost a carbon-copy of Elanor. Definitely fat, not curvy, plain-featured, and small. Gorgeous green eyes, in her case, which her lovers also got lost in. The woman sitting next to her was much more like the maid. Classic facial features, long blonde hair, beautifully proportioned 36C tits, and although Elanor could not see them, she knew from previous encounters, a lovely shaped arse and long legs. She was Samantha, Mrs. Heaton's accountant.
"Good afternoon, sisters," Mrs. Heaton said, with a broad smile, "please sit down and I will get coffee. Would you like some relaxation while we talk?"
Both sisters nodded warmly. The maid who had opened the door, came back a couple of minutes later, and served the coffee. When she had finished, she stripped naked and got down on her knees. Lucy had already bunched her habit up around her waist, and the maid got straight to work, lapping at Lucy's copious bush.
The maid brought Lucy off to a very good cum, and Elanor also enjoyed her talent, as they worked through Mrs. Heaton's latest offer of support. As usual, it was very generous. She made a contribution every six months. This time it was for Β£75.000.
Mrs. Heaton was a successful businesswoman having set up what was originally a mail order, but now an online service, catering exclusively to lesbians. It covered everything from magazines, books and films to sex toys. It was all very tasteful and had grown to be a worldwide company.
Elanor knew Mrs. H was worth something like ten million pounds. She came from a rich, old-English aristocratic family, and had learned muff-munching in a very posh and very expensive, all-girl English private school. She had used her inheritance to start her business. She had supported the convent from when she had moved to the area, on her retirement ten years ago, when she turned fifty-five.
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