Paul Gable - The torment of sister Mary

Sister Mary Theresa lay quietly in her small bed, her eyes fixed on the half-naked image of Christ on the cross in front of her. It's a terrible thing for me to feel like this, the young nun thought, closing her eyes and shivering with sexual excitement. She was a nun, a bride of Christ, a woman following the example of the Holy Virgin in renouncing the flesh.

But lately all Sister Mary Theresa could think of was her flesh her body, and that strange electric shock that made her fuzzy cunt very hot and very, very moist!

"No," she whispered out loud, turning her head away from the crucifix and biting her lower lip. She couldn't give in to those feelings that took her mind off prayer and duty. "No," she repeated. But the feeling stayed. Her cunt was so hot! Every time she moved her plump, firm asscheeks from side to side on the bed she felt her pussy walls rubbing against one another, the slick folds and hollows shuddering with that impact.

Think of God, think of God and find peace, Sister Mary Theresa told herself. It was what Father O'Reilly told her last week when she went to confession and told him what she'd been feeling. Yes, think of God! It was easy enough for him to say. But how could she close her eyes and conjure an image of God up when her clit burned like a hot jewel, taking her breath away just as she was about to pray?

"Oh, God in heaven, help me!" the nun whispered hoarsely. She couldn't touch herself! It was forbidden in all the writings and teachings of the Catholic Church! Even letting herself wallow in this kind of erotic sensation was sinful! She should be on her knees, hands clasped, head bowed, praying to heaven for spiritual guidance and physical relief.

Instead, Sister Mary Theresa rolled her head back and opened her eyes. She saw once again the nearly naked image of Christ sagging on the cross. Against her will the young nun found herself staring at the crotch, wondering about

"Oh, no!"

What could she be doing? Even the vilest whore in the city wouldn't be contemplating thoughts like those about the Lord God! The confused woman shook the tears from her eyes, getting up from the bed and sliding her long white legs over the cotton top sheet. She had to get out of bed, away from those thoughts haunting her with a horrifying regularity lately.

"Cold shower," she whispered to herself, clinging temporarily to the doorway molding for support. Sister Mary Theresa rested her forehead against the cool wood, smiling weakly as she thought about the water. Her students had told stories about stepping into cold showers to hold down sexual tensions. How she reprimanded them for telling such filthy stories in her class! Even the school wits a house of God! Even the small office where she and three other young Dominican nuns helped certain political candidates was a house where no such filthy talk could be allowed.

And yet the nun found herself walking unsteadily down the long darkened corridor, gasping for breath, realizing the only hope for her sexual arousal was a cold shower.

"Oh!"

That thought stopped the young nun dead in front of the large bathroom. Was that all that awaited her in this life? Sexual arousal constantly torturing her, to be satisfied only by a brisk cold shower in the middle of the night? That thought nearly took her breath away and sent another flow of tears from her eyes. She whimpered, wiping the tears with her knuckles. Why should she be crying? Surely she'd known what kind of life she'd be leading when the Holy Father placed the ring on her finger and made her take the vow of chastity! This would be a life of poverty, abstinence, of complete sexual refusal. In many ways Sister Mary Theresa was far more fortunate than other women who'd also joined convents. At least this order allowed her and her friends to do social and political work.

"Oh, help me, help, me," Sister Mary Theresa said, moving once more into the bathroom. The damp cool air in the area comforted her. Already the hot itchy ache between her legs lessened.

Quickly the young nun slipped off her robe and stepped into the shower, twisting the knob and sending an icy spray crashing into her body.

"Uhhhhh!" The young woman felt her pussy snap shut at the first touch of the cold water. Her flesh quivered under this kind of torture. Sister Mary Theresa wanted to jerk the plastic curtain back and stumble from the tub. The cold was almost painful. But the young nun held on, smiling as she felt her cunt heat return to normal. Once again, she'd saved herself from depravity. Once again she'd managed to fight off the normal sexual drives that drove women between the sheets to seek relief from their husbands or boyfriends.

What a vile, degrading feeling! Sister Mary Theresa thought, reaching down and twisting the hot water spigot. Instantly she felt the spray become more comfortable. Surely there was nothing to worry about now. Turning from side to side in the slippery tub, her feet squeaking against the slippery bottom, the young nun luxuriated in the wet warmth.

Enough! she told herself, shutting off the water, stepping from the tub and toweling herself off. Did anyone hear her staggering down the hall, shutting the door, turning on the shower? No, most were deep in deep, the others at the far end of the church. Turning on the light, Sister Mary Theresa moved to the right and caught her image in the cracked mirror over the row of sinks.

She held the towel to one side of her face, staring at her well-formed body. Unlike many of the other young nuns who were singularly unattractive, Sister Mary Theresa was considered extremely desirable by any standard. Dark-haired, petite yet full-breasted, the girl was hotly pursued by most of the boys in her high school. None of them could understand why she turned down their offers of "hot" dates or even lukewarm ones. Her parents wondered about her sexuality, fearing she might be homosexual.

And when she announced shortly after her graduation that she was going into a convent, her mother and father thought lesbianism a better option for the young woman. Sister Mary Theresa remembered with sadness how her mother cried on the day she left, telling her between sobs what she was throwing away.

But the young woman was firm, casting off all doubt and marching into the Church without a second thought. That had been nearly seven years ago when she was eighteen. Now at twenty-five she was having doubts about her calling, doubts about her ability to continue being a nun.

Sister Mary Theresa studied herself in the mirror more closely, dropping the towel. Yes, her body was attractive. Now she understood why the boys were always following her around the school, why the girls gave her dirty looks as she passed by. Their boyfriends wanted her badly, and desired her all the more when she refused them.

Twisting to the right she looked at her large, pendulous tits. They were firm, round, high-riding with long, red nipples sticking out temptingly. Sister Mary Theresa raised her hand and rubbed her fingers over one of them, surprised at the pleasant ticklish sensation that touch produced in her body.

"Oh!"

Her eyes dropped to her flat belly, her small, boyish hips, and the hint, in that position, of her well-formed ass. Yes, there was no doubt she was an attractive woman, meant for the marriage bed.

But she was married, married to God, to the holy Catholic Church! That thought now suddenly seemed depressing. This union, she believed, was the only kind of union that would satisfy her. And yet, pausing in front of the mirror after her shower, she wondered. Why had she become so aroused lately? Why had all her prayers, all her novenae failed?

This is ridiculous, the young nun said to herself, drying off her face. She had to get back to bed. It must be nearly four in the morning. Shortly her alarm would go off and she'd have to dress. There were matins to get through, some school lesson plans, then the trek to the small office near the church where she and the others were meeting with neighborhood groups to discuss problems of street crime.