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Joan Russell
The Naughty Nun; Nunphomania
The Naughty Nun; Nunphomania
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Sister Theresa Gabriel had been a thorn in Mother Superior's side since she refused to perform the "community service" that was dedicated to help problem priests overcome their little difficulties. She and Sister Mary had convinced her and now Father Marcus was on his way to the demure, virginal Sister Theresa. He was in for the surprise of his life.
Sample:
Father Marcus was smiling as he made his way down the second floor corridor of the nun's dorm toward the cell that had been the subject of his fantasies for months. Mother Superior had finally given him permission to visit Sister Theresa Gabriel and he was ready. He had been ready since the first time he had glimpsed her across the table during his first dinner at the convent.
He imagined her wide eyed and reluctant. That hesitance standing clear in her face as he pulled her veil from her head revealing long brown hair that glistened in the soft light of the little room with its narrow virginal bed. He had dreamed of that bed....he walked toward her door his mind filled with what was to come.
He would unbutton her habit and slip it off her shoulders revealing her ... narrow waist, her full hips ... perfect thighs and never ending legs. He had never seen even the slight outline of her body under the long blackness of her habit, except that he knew she would be thin. But in all the days since he had first glimpsed her, he had imagined every line, every muscle and every cell from her perfect feet to her slender shoulders.
As he walked down the long hallways to her cell, he pictured kissing her. He imagined holding the back of her head against the downward pressure of his lips as he bent her backward, enfolding her in his arms like making a dip in a dance...
Sample:
Father Marcus was smiling as he made his way down the second floor corridor of the nun's dorm toward the cell that had been the subject of his fantasies for months. Mother Superior had finally given him permission to visit Sister Theresa Gabriel and he was ready. He had been ready since the first time he had glimpsed her across the table during his first dinner at the convent.
He imagined her wide eyed and reluctant. That hesitance standing clear in her face as he pulled her veil from her head revealing long brown hair that glistened in the soft light of the little room with its narrow virginal bed. He had dreamed of that bed....he walked toward her door his mind filled with what was to come.
He would unbutton her habit and slip it off her shoulders revealing her ... narrow waist, her full hips ... perfect thighs and never ending legs. He had never seen even the slight outline of her body under the long blackness of her habit, except that he knew she would be thin. But in all the days since he had first glimpsed her, he had imagined every line, every muscle and every cell from her perfect feet to her slender shoulders.
As he walked down the long hallways to her cell, he pictured kissing her. He imagined holding the back of her head against the downward pressure of his lips as he bent her backward, enfolding her in his arms like making a dip in a dance...
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