Fluffeh kittehs
As she stroked my love python until it coughed, I reflected upon all the years I had known Sister Mary. We’d first met when I left the seminary and I had been posted to a small church near her nunnery. I remembered the first time we’d met, at the swingers club party, when her rosary beads had become entangled with my balls during a particularly vigorous 69’ing session. Although painful, I had recognised the potential inherent within her, and had promptly asked her for her phone number. This was then that she admitted she was a nun, which made me laugh as I am a priest.

Since then we’d done it everywhere, in the nave of the church, up against the baptismal font, in the apse, the crypt, the tower. Hell the only reason we didn’t do it up against the damned war memorial was because we’d probably be caught. We’d sucked and fucked each other dry over the past thirty years and if we’d strayed from each other (or rather if I’d strayed) it was only because variety is the spice of life. Ecclesiastical conferences give one such a wonderful opportunity to meet prostitutes. And the whole clerical get up – works a treat for spicing up the love life.

So, broadly, this is what I was thinking as I tied her on to the rack, clamped her nipples and started heating up the chocolate sauce. I walked with a slight limp as Sister Mary had adjusted the belt around my balls a little too tight for my liking but, as God is my witness, it got the woman off for some reason. My trained monkey stood to one side in a waistcoat and a strap on dildo, fingering himself with boredom.

Sister Mary was ready, and I began chanting the last rites over her prone form as I slowly pulled her on the rack. My bald headed pope began to rise again and I had to remember not to genuflect too quickly, or I would have to do penance – and I didn’t want to be in the Box of Sins again… at least not until the wounds healed from the last time.

Sister Mary groaned with pleasure as I racked her, and even more so I as poured the chocolate sauce over her whilst chanting the Nicene Creed. The monkey looked up and scampered over, but I beat it away as it was too early for it. Finally, when Sister Mary had had her fill of the suffering of Christ (although to be honest I doubt Christ shouted so lustfully) I unstrapped her and prepared for the next stage.

She lifted my cassock and adjusted the belt around my testicles. Then, forcing me to bend over on to all fours she sat upon me as Christ would when entering Jerusalem on a donkey and called the monkey over.

This, I thought as the monkey roughly entered me from behind, is the price we must play for our little pleasures.
(Zapiola zip-zap-zop, Sun 6 Jul 2008, 13:02, Reply)