“But now I was living with a beautiful young woman, becoming close, becoming friends, and yet also finding myself lusting after her.
“Then one night, we were just hanging out, unwinding after our finals. Randi had broken out a bottle of wine to celebrate, and while I was never a big drinker, I joined her in having a few glasses.
“Next thing you know, we were kissing. I don’t remember who started it. I only remember…. enjoying it. Far too much.
“I had to force myself to stop. Randi, of course, felt hurt. She wanted to continue. But of course, I couldn’t, even when she confessed her love for me. It was… too much. Because I… I loved her, too.
“It’s one thing to succumb to the desires of the flesh, but to fall prey to the sin of homosexuality? I just couldn’t.”
Sister Emily hung her head in shame. “I panicked; fled our room. I slept on the student common room couch and had my parents pick me up the next morning. I told them I’d cracked from the pressures of finals and simply couldn’t handle it anymore.
“I never went back. I dropped out of college that year, and soon after, joined the Sisterhood. Dedicating my life to God was the only way I could avoid falling into a life of debauchery and sin.”
She sighed. “Or at least, so I thought. I struggled to control my thoughts, my… desires. No matter how fervently I prayed, I would find myself lying awake at night with a desperate ache, a need almost primal with its insistence to be met.
“It started simply enough. Touching myself. Exploring how to give myself pleasure, to satisfy that urge. I excused it by believing it would keep me from going further.
“Then I started watching porn. I wasn’t supposed to have access to it, but my parents had given me a phone to keep in touch, and eventually I gave into the temptation to seek it out. Again my excuse was that at least it was only fantasy, and I wasn’t actually going out and acting on my desires.
“I prayed for forgiveness after every orgasm, of course. And yet, after a while, I began to question why. Why would God create us with the ability to experience such pleasure, yet deny us the right to?”
Sister Emily’s face was flushed, both embarrassed by her confessions, and excited by them. “Anyway, to get to the point of it; I’ve been questioning my faith these past few years, and whether I’ve made the right choice with my life. And so last night, I prayed to God for a sign, any sign, that would help me to decide what to do.
“And then YOU walked in the door. Yes, I recognized you. I discovered your movies about a year ago. And I found myself… drawn to them. To you.”
Noting the shock on Job’s face, she laughed softly. “I know, shocking, right? The idea of this sweet, innocent looking Nun watching your films, masturbating to them? Fantasizing about being the woman you were… pleasing?
“I found you attractive of course, but it wasn’t just your physical looks, or the size of your cock.”
She crossed herself instinctively as the vulgarity slipped from her lips, then continued. “It was the way the women you…oh, fuck it, I’m well beyond being worried about my language at this point… the way they looked as you fucked them. I’d watched a lot of porn by then, and could always spot the fakers.
“But the women you were with always seemed to genuinely be enjoying themselves, no matter how wild and crazy it got. They were having true, REAL orgasms. Every time. And I could see their appreciation of you in their eyes.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she smiled, noting his reaction, “I didn’t fall ‘in love’ with you or something. But I definitely became… infatuated.”
“Look, Sister, you…” Job began.
“Emily,” she interrupted. “I think I’d prefer if you dropped the ‘Sister’ at this point.”
“Fine. Look, Emily, you have to understand that porn isn’t reality, right? A lot of that stuff isn’t nearly as…”
“I know,” she cut in, irritated. “I’m not completely naive. Or sheltered. Doesn’t matter. What matters is; I prayed for a sign and the guy I’ve been obsessing over while masturbating walks in my door, telling me he needs to fuck me to save his soul. How am I supposed to take that?”
“I dunno,” Job laughed nervously. “If it was me? I’d say that’s one fucked up message from God.”
Emily returned his laugh. “Yeah, my thoughts too. I’ve always been told ‘God works in mysterious ways,’ but this is just downright crazy.”
At her sweet, lilting laugh, Job felt remorse stab him in the gut like a pitchfork. They were here because of his selfishness, his own shallow desires. Sister Emily didn’t deserve to be dragged into this.
Job stood, finally finding his courage. “Look, Sis… Emily, I should go. This is my mess, not yours. I dug my own grave here. I’ll have to deal with the consequences.”
Her soft voice stopped him short of the door. “Dirk, please, don’t go.”
Job turned to find Emily now sitting on the altar. Her face was radiant, her eyes determined.
Wordlessly she reached up and, pulling off her veil, tossed it aside with casual abandon. Her long, wavy blonde hair spilled out to cascade over her shoulders, framing her lovely oval face.
“The consequences of your actions brought you here, true,” she said, her voice low, almost throaty. “But I also believe God sent you to me for a reason. The Bible says ‘looking with lust in my heart’ is just as much a sin as acting on that lust. And if that’s the case, I’m already damned as well, because, being frank, I’m not repentant for it.
“But I believe you’re here, now, to perhaps set me on another path. And saving your soul, even at the possible cost of my own, is the start of that path.”
Emily reached down and pulled up her long, black skirt. Job’s eyes went wide with the realization she wore no panties beneath it.
Her pussy was as petite as the rest of her, tiny labia barely peeking out from her plump vulva, already glistening with a light sheen of arousal.
Emily noted his gaze and blushed. “I took them off after you left earlier. They were soaked. I never bothered with another pair.”
Job had to tear his eyes from it to find her face. He saw no fear there, no apprehension, no doubt.
Her smile was warm, confident, and alluring.
“Job,” he finally managed to speak.
“What?”
“That’s my real name. Job.”
Emily laughed. “Like the Bible Job? I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me. Well, nice to meet you, Job. Now, get over here and save your soul.”
Job moved towards her. His first step was tentative. His second, less so. Then he was practically running.
Her legs parted wider as he closed the short distance, moving between them.
She gasped, not in fear, but relief, as his strong hands found her body, embracing her, pulling her to him, instantly returning the passionate kiss he offered.
Her heart raced as he pulled her blouse free from the confines of her skirt, his hands immediately finding their way under it to caress her smooth, soft skin.
He worked at the buttons, struggling to undo them without ripping her garment.
She helped by pulling at the blouse herself, tearing it open, the buttons flying in random directions, clattering to the hardwood floor.
Job broke from their kiss to admire her pert breasts and puffy nipples, not the least bit surprised this time to discover she wore no bra.
Their eyes met again and still he saw no fear in her. Yet he offered, “Are you sure? If you change your mind, just…”
Emily silenced him by grabbing his head and pulling him to her breasts. His lips found her already swollen nipples and sucked at them hungrily. Her breasts were small, much smaller than many of the women he’d worked with over the past year, but unlike so many of them, Emily’s were natural, a welcome change.
Emily could feel the heat building between her legs as Job continued to suckle at her breasts, a fire begging to be quenched.
A plea she could no longer deny. Grabbing his head, she pushed him lower, her desire unmistakable.
Job kissed his way down her firm, flat belly, enjoying the taste of the light sweat of her skin. He reached for the waistband of her skirt and pulled it down and off in one swift move.
The unmistakable scent of her arousal wafted to his nose as he kissed his way along her padded pubic mound. She was smooth, hairless, yet another surprise.
Her hands continued to push at him, urging him lower. “Please,” she managed between rapid breaths.
Her gasps became squeals of unbridled joy as his lips moved over her soft, wet cleft, and when his tongue darted out to glide its way between her swollen labia, she fell to her back, trembling uncontrollably.
Her hands still clung to his head, pulling at his hair, as if hanging on for dear life.
Job followed the subtle guidance of both her hands and the movement of her hips, directing him exactly where she wanted him to focus his efforts: her tiny, rock hard clit.
Job worked her expertly, his tongue a buzzing honeybee, fluttering and flickering and gathering her sweet nectar as it flowed from her delicate petals.
Emily’s grip on him tightened, almost painfully, her squeaks echoing in the tiny chapel as her orgasm approached.
Job held her shaking legs with both hands as she bucked wildly, crying out over and over again in ecstasy.
Emily wept in happiness. She’d waited long, far too long, to allow herself this pleasure.
And she wasn’t even close to being sated yet.
Sitting up, Emily pulled Job up from his knees, where he’d been worshiping at the altar of her virgin sex.
Her face was flushed, urgent. She was already working at his jeans. “Fuck me.”
Job helped her remove his pants and quickly ditched his shirt as well.
Emily had seen his cock before, and others like it, in videos, countless times now. Still, she wasn’t quite prepared for just how ALIVE it looked, bobbing, twitching and throbbing with an all too obvious desire to delve into her unexplored depths.
Leaning forward, she wrapped her dainty hands around it, thrilled to finally feel it pulsing within her grasp. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.
She found his lips, her kiss desperate and needy. Laying back on the altar, dragging him with her, she opened herself to him. “Fuck me, Job. I need you inside me, right now!”
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