Ah, I remember back to my
romantic youth. She was a pretty, young
nun with a fiery mane of hair. At first, it was innocent. When I would go to
church I would see her, acknowledge her existence, then
bid her a good day. But then things changed. I became violently ill, and being
righteous and
pious, I decided that if I could not go to
church,
church would come to me! Happenstance led her to my door, and a whole matter of wonderful things would follow. She would
read the
Bible with me and give me
communion, and then she would leave. However, all was not
well.
There was unrest within both of this, and we knew that our innocent meetings would not stay pure for long. On her fifteenth visit to me, in the middle of March, I proclaimed my lust for her, and she proclaimed hers for me. We kissed as lovers kiss, we touched as lovers touch, and we tore at each others' clothing: she at my pajamas and I at her habit. We made passionate love with reckless abandon; we satisfied our carnal lusts without reservation. And this continued for many years, until both of us realized the error of our ways.
To this day, however, I still cannot figure out why she was a better lay as a nun in my apartment than when she was just my sister at home.