God, Life, Sister Mary and Me

by Joanne

Life moves on, I was twelve and still hopelessly in love with Sister Mary, I have lived with her every weekend for the last two years. My body has been developing delightfully. I now have a minge of my own. It is small next to Sister Mary's and nothing at all next to my mother's. I have also joined 'the monthly curse club' as Sister Mary' calls it. I would never join any club that took blood from your pussy. God, must have a warped sense of humour.

I wanted to shave my minge but Sister Mary wouldn't hear of it. She shaves my pussy, so my lips are smooth, but she loves my minge as much as I love hers. I am also very proud of my boobs, they are not just lumps anymore, they are firm and round and defined. My nipples are big and even more sensitive than I ever thought possible. They jump to attention at the slightest breeze and if I have the smallest erotic thought, they reach out at the nearest girl desperate to be suckled.

Life at home is much as it was, really. My dad is still a salesman. He has changed his job, but this has meant that he is away even more that he was before. Christine, my sister, now five years old is not happy that her daddy is away more, but it suits me down to the ground. My mother doesn't care at all, whenever my dad is away she is fucking the widow across the road. What she sees in her is beyond me. The widow is roughly the same age as mom, but she must be several dress sizes bigger. I am not into fat women, but hey, live and let live.

Julie still lives with her Aunt next door, though she now has a car of her own, and a very nice open top car it is too. She must be fucking her way close the top to get that. The girl that used to take her to work in her car still passes by each morning, but she doesn't stop. She is alone and seems to accelerate past the house. Julie still tries to tease me, flashing her panties at me, waving and laughing, but it is water off a ducks back now. On the other hand, the girl down the street that used to give her a morning lift to work, is very attractive. If only I could stop her accelerating past and actually get her to stop. I didn't like her at all when we were rivals for Julie's attention, but now, well, I know that she is gay, and she is gorgeous, and I know that she is gullible, what more could a horny twelve year old want. Julie is probably her boss now.

Sister Mary came skidding up to the house one evening. I saw her every weekend, but it was unusual to see her during the school week. She came dashing up to the door, her habit struggling to keep up with her. “Is your mom in?” she asked. “Yes, in the kitchen,” I said as she was already entering the kitchen. “Can I borrow Jenny for a couple of hours?” she asked, “there has been a terrible accident, a parishioner has been killed, its terrible, he had a young family. Jenny can help me.” “ Of course,” mom said. Next thing I was dashing towards Sister Mary's silly little car still holding my coat.

These daft little cars move off very slowly, which is probably why she only ever touches the brake when death would follow if she didn't. The police must thing it is a mortal sin to stop a nun on a mission, because she flies past them without a sideways look. Her knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel and her head forward urging the car on, as if nodding like a horse would make it go faster.

She flew around a housing estate, rarely on all four wheels until she slid to a halt. I followed her at a trot up a garden path. We entered the house and into a strangers life. A life that was shattered beyond repair. There was a woman staring into the middle distance with a little girl of about five years old, glued to her side. The girl's face was puffy and blotchy from crying. She was sucking her thump. The expression in her eyes was pleading, as if I could grant her wish. I felt my tears welling up and I fought for control. I held out a hand and the little girl took it. I took the girl to an arm chair across from her mom and hugged her close. We watched as Sister Mary knelt and prayed with her mother. I buried my face into the girl's shoulder and cried like a baby. She comforted me, bless her little heart, her inherent goodness took over and gave her strength. I was next to useless as the girl stroked my face and kissed me better.

Sister Mary asked me to stay with the girl while she took the mother to the hospital. She would bless the deceased and help the mother through the trauma of seeing her husband like that. The house was even quieter when they had left. The girl was sat on my lap still comforting me. “What's your name?” she asked. “Jenny, what's yours?” “Zoe.” She looked me in the eye, “My daddy has gone to heaven, hasn't he?” “Yes, sweetheart he has,” I said. It didn't matter what I believed. It was what she believed.

“When you have a secret, is it OK to tell when they have gone to heaven?” she asked. “Only if you are happy to tell,” I said. I was not at all, as certain as I sounded. She jumped off my lap and ran off up stairs. She was soon back with an envelope. She gave it to me, it was full of photographs. They were of Zoe at various ages and totally naked. Some on all fours from the rear, some open legged. “You are very pretty,” I said, not knowing what to say, “Does your mommy know about these?” I asked. “Oh no, daddy made me promise never to tell.”

“It is OK to tell if you want to, but it will upset your mom. She is very upset at the moment and it is probably best to wait a bit before upsetting her with this.” That was my best effort at being wise. She went on as if I hadn't spoken. “I liked the way it felt when daddy looked at me,” she said. I tried to reassure her, “That is because he thought you were very pretty,” I said.

She was once again on my lap. “Do you think I am pretty?” she asked. “Yes, of course I do.” She took my hand and placed it under her skirt. She must have left her panties up stairs. I felt the smoothness of her legs and of her tummy. My pussy wept into my panties and I felt myself losing control. My over sized nipples gave me away. “Do you really want to do this?” I asked, my voice was croaky with passion. “Yes, Oh please, Yes,” she begged.

I kissed her on the lips and her mouth opened to receive me. She gripped me hard and sucked on my tongue. I lifted her and put her down onto the armchair. I spread her legs and kissed her pussy. She arched her back to improve access and whimpered and squirmed until she was quivering all over. I sucked her little clit and probed her cunt. I had my hand on my pussy rubbing it frantically. She cried out, “Yes Oh Yes,” just as an orgasm gripped me and rippled all through me. “Thank you,” she said, “that was just how my daddy did it.

When Sister Mary returned with her mother. Zoe an I were the picture of innocence, sat together watching TV.

“Thank you for this evening,” Zoe's mother said to Sister Mary as we were leaving. “That's all right,” Sister Mary said, “Are you sure you will be alright?” The woman nodded, but it was clear that she wasn't alright and wouldn't be for a long time yet.

We made our way down the path to the car. As I looked back Zoe was once again hugging her mother's hip. I waved as I climbed into the car. The engine burst into life and as the car pulled away, “Did you fuck her?” Sister Mary asked. “Yes,” I said. “Good, that's why I brought you.” “You knew?” I was shocked. “Of course, remember my history. It takes one to know one,” she said, “That little girl needed you to lay the ghost of her father for ever, she will now be able to move on. What you did helped her more than any words could.” “Don't you mind me having sex?” “No,” she said, “not if it's a force for good.” “What is a force for good?” “Well,” she said, “there are many lonely people out there. It would be an act of charity to help them.” “I see,” I said, but I didn't really. I would be as mad as a nest of wasps if Sister Mary was ever unfaithful to me.

On the way home we discussed how our love could be a force for good. “We are strong in our love,” she said, “nothing can hurt us. Imagine how we can help people.” “How?” I asked. “Well, take Zoe for example, she is missing her dad and the sex they had together. Your Christine is sad whenever your dad is away for the same reason. Imagine if we got them into the same room with a sprap-on, how long do you think they would go on missing their dads? I want to start a club for girls at the church and I want you to help me.”

I am as fit as a flea on steroids. Two years ago when I first exercised with Sister Mary, I could barely keep up. Now I can run forever and I enjoy it. I know that my track suit is too tight and my shorts in summer leave nothing to the imagination. I can swim like a fish and look fantastic in swim wear. I know what my bottom looks like when I move and I know what my boobs look like. I know, because I see the men, and boys, and some women with their tongues hanging out, wishing they could fuck me. I hear the whistles. I love being a girl. It is the best thing. I love being a girl and I love the weekends and I love making love to the most wonderful woman on earth. If I can use what we have to help others achieved the same thing, I am sure god will smile down on us.