The shopping trip hadn't gone the least bit how I'd planned. Half of the things I wanted were out of stock, so I had to use second-rate substitutes. Also, the scanner in the checkout lane barely worked, the doors opened so slowly I ran my cart into them, and I almost got run over in the parking lot. It put me in such a stressful mood, I knew Clint would be put off by it, and with how hard he worked, he didn't deserve that.

To de-stress and get my mind on something better, I took a detour on the route home. Luckily, I hadn't bought any ice cream, so there was no risk of it melting. That detour took me up through a local canyon leading northeast to the next county over. It had been a year since I had driven up there, and I wasn't sure why. Still, the scenery was every bit as beautiful and lush as I remembered. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to explore a local urban legend I'd heard a few times.

Halfway up the canyon was a property owned by the Catholic Church. This being a largely non-Catholic area, the craziest stories imaginable had risen up around it. I knew all too well from studying Psychology just how easily such stories could be exaggerated, and while I would probably not find anything conclusive, I decided to see if it at least matched up with the layout of the place.

From the first look, it seemed like I wasn't the only one who'd gotten the idea to investigate. An old-looking red Buick was parked just outside the building. I parked right next to it and got out. With autumn starting, the colors on the trees were nothing short of breathtaking. Up close to the building, though, it wasn't so pretty. A large pile of red, yellow, and brown leaves had gathered at the bottom of the drained swimming pool next to the house. I decided to tread heavily so I wouldn't surprise whoever had gotten here just before me.

Walking the length of the swimming pool, I craned my head up at the trees to help take in more of nature's bounty. Bit by bit, I felt the stress of my disastrous grocery shopping trip melting away.

“Enjoying the foliage?” came a feminine voice from nearby.

I turned and found myself face to face with a woman dressed in clothes that looked rather normal for the weather, save the coif, bandeau, and veil of a nun's habit. Her coif was navy blue, with a white vest over it. The Catholic girl in me made me jump a bit.

“There's no need to be afraid. I won't report you to the authorities or anything.”

“A nun who's not trying to get me in trouble? That's a new one,” I said, unable to hold my tongue back.

“Oh, you grew up Catholic?” She walked faster towards me. “You...actually look a bit familiar.”

I looked her over. “You look familiar, too.” A moment trawling in the recesses of my mind was all it took to recall her. “Vanessa?! Sister Vanessa?”

She broke into a grin, which I thought couldn't have been more uncharacteristic of a nun, especially her. “Now I know where I've seen you! Clarissa? My word, you've grown into such a beautiful woman!” I didn't fight her as she pulled me into a hug, turning her hips side to side. “How have you been, dear? It's been so long!”

Her hug felt as genuine as it could've, and I felt a couple of things even her habit couldn't hide from me all those years before. “I'm doing quite well, thanks. I'm married, I have a degree in Psychology, and I have five children.”

Vanessa pulled back and looked me in the face. I'd always found her quite attractive in spite of how she treated me. Which, of course, had made me all the more terrified of her. She had green eyes, full, pouting red lips, and perfect facial features. “That's wonderful! I'm so glad you've come this far. You always seemed like such an unhappy young woman, and I could never quite figure out why.”

“My mother,” I said without hesitation. “I'm sure you think she was a sweet, considerate woman, but that's what she wanted everyone to think she was. She's a self-centered, controlling monster, and I only talk to her once a year. She doesn't even know where I live.”

She looked at the ground. “That you would say such things about your own mother...”

My childhood indignation came back to the surface. “Well, you weren't raised by her!”

Vanessa stayed even-tempered. “No, I wasn't. And I won't pretend I understand what she put you through. I was going to say, she really must have been awful if you'd be so quick to call her a monster.”

“I...” My indignation faded as quickly as it had come. “I didn't expect you to be so understanding. All I really remember is you yelling at me when I asked you a question.”

“I never meant for you to fear me, Clarissa. I was worried for your soul. But I'm done with my business here. If my presence brings up such awful memories for you, maybe I should...” She started off toward her car.

“No. Wait,” I felt the bottom drop out of my stomach and started after her. “It's not your fault I handled myself so poorly. I'd...I'd really like to get to know you again. I was stupid as a teenager, and I've always been terrible at reading people. You saw me at my worst back then.” I paused for a moment, looking at the ground, then slowly looked up her body. My, she really had quite the figure that she'd kept hidden under loose clothes every time I'd seen her. “Do you have any plans for tonight?”

“I have a room at the Super 5 on Main Street and I was planning to order takeout from Mandarin Palace,” she said. “Why?”

“Oh, good Lord, you shouldn't order from there! They're easily the worst Chinese place in town. Why don't you follow me home? I'm planning a chicken cacciatore tonight. My kids are at my father's place, but I'm sure you'd like to meet my husband, and I know he'd be delighted to meet you.”

The smile returned to her face. I could've sworn that before that day, I'd never seen her smile. “Hmm...eating mediocre Chinese takeout all alone in a cheap motel room, or having home-cooked Italian with a friend and her loving husband in their comfortable home? What a terrible dilemma.”

“So that's a yes,” I couldn't help smiling back, and pointed with my keys. “That's my car right there. Flash your lights when you're ready to head out.”

***

I walked into the garage, my collapsible cooler hanging from my shoulder, two bags of groceries in my arms, and Sister Vanessa carrying three bags in her arms. Without me needing to tell her to, she positioned her shoulder to steady one of my bags while I opened the door. “My husband's not home from work yet, but he'll be expecting dinner to be ready or almost ready when he is, and I'd really not care to disappoint him.”

Vanessa shut the door behind her. “I must say, I'm surprised at you. The way you acted, I never would've figured you to become a devoted housewife. 'Submissive' was one of the last words I'd have used to describe you. You were such a rebellious, headstrong young woman. Yet here you are, dutifully getting dinner ready for your husband. What changed in you?”

I gestured for Vanessa to help me empty the bags and put away the items I wasn't going to use right away, then got out a cutting board and knife for her to help me cut up the chicken and vegetables as I told her about my parents' emotional abuse, my overreaction to it, my misadventures in my early twenties, and more or less being rescued by my husband. “You've been through so much,” she said, examining her cutlet to make sure she'd sliced it evenly. “You could have joined the Daughters of Saint Paul. I remember your fondness for music, and we could have used you to make some of our videos richer.”

“The thought did cross my mind once or twice,” I admitted, “But living like I did gave me a crisis of faith. I felt like Jacob, constantly wrestling with God in my prayers. I kept asking why, if He loves all His children, He would let me live like that. Every night, my answer was the same. Silence. I just couldn't have imagined spending my entire day around a God who never answers back, especially when I needed it the most.”

“I can see why not,” she nodded, “But maybe if you'd lived that way, you might have found your answers.”

I pulled out my skillet, giving it a healthy coating of olive oil. “What makes you so sure?”

“Do you recall what Origen said when a young man asked him what he should do to better understand the Christian doctrine?”

“No, I mostly just read Augustine and Aquinas.”

“He said 'Young man, you must come and live with us, as we do.' The young man did as Origen bade him, and he later went on to become St. Gregory Thaumaturgus.”

“I actually tried that for a while,” I directed her to push her freshly-sliced chicken into the pan, “One of the places I went when I was living out of my car was Lancaster. I spent a week living with the Amish. They were friendly enough, but they just had too many rules for my tastes. I don't know, maybe I went there with the wrong mindset. Or, more likely, I just wasn't patient enough.”

“Nobody can teach you patience but you,” she said, getting out dishes to set the table. “It certainly seems you have the patience to cook a delectable meal for your husband.”

“Oh, I've always loved cooking.” I smiled at her. “It was one of the few times my father and I got along.”

Vanessa laughed. “Italian families. Not really surprising there. See what I mean? When you want to, you can learn patience for things that you don't particularly enjoy.”

Just then, the front door opened and Clint walked in, his sleek brown hair tossed about by a breeze. “Hey, Rissa!” he said jovially, then looked at Vanessa. “Oh. Never would've guessed that was a nun's car parked outside.”

She stood and bowed to my husband as he came over and kissed me. “Sister Vanessa. It's a pleasure to meet you. I was in Clarissa's parish when she was a young woman.”

“Oh, Vanessa?!” Clint's eyes went wide, and he looked at me. “That's quite a surprise.”

“It was a surprise for me too. I actually ran into her up at St. Lorena's,” I explained.

He smirked. “Really now? Did you tell her the...colorful past that place has?”

“Colorful past?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow at me. “What's that?”

Clint rested his elbows on the kitchen island, folding his arms, and slid into his Palpatine impression, which I'd always thought was spot-on. “It's not a story the Church would tell you.”

“Probably because it's a load of crap,” I started adding the crushed tomatoes to the pan. “It's a good one, though. Dear, you tell her. I need to keep an eye on the tomato sauce so it doesn't burn. And you tell it so well.”

My husband dimmed the lights in the kitchen, except the one over the stove, grabbed a flashlight from a nearby counter, and held it lit under his face as he spoke. “As you know, Catholics don't exactly have a heavy presence in this area. That means that it's a fertile breeding ground for wild urban legends. The cabin there was originally built by a local businessman at the turn of the century, and the Catholic Church purchased it back in the 50s, shortly after the swimming pool was built.”

“I've heard most of that already,” Vanessa said. “It was a retreat for nuns. Far away from the distractions of the city, and of course the swimming pool, for exercise. To live like Francis of Assisi, for a week or two.”

Even with my back turned and the lights dimmed, I could hear my husband rolling his eyes. “Well, yes, that's the official story. But the more imaginative locals would naturally never buy the official story. They believed it was a place that the Church used to hide away nuns who had broken one of their vows in a way they couldn't hide.”

“Oh!” Vanessa seemed to catch on quickly. “That's...imaginative, indeed.”

“And that's not all,” Clint hushed his voice to a sinister tone. “One of those nuns, it was said, decided she'd had enough of the monastic lifestyle, and wanted to devote herself full-time to motherhood. So, she took her little baby boy and ran. The Mother Superior was, of course, outraged, and swore that she would kill both the nun on the run and her baby.”

Vanessa gasped, and spoke with the same tone I'd so hated as a teenager. “My word! The Church's position on abortion isn't exactly secret...and infanticide?”

I chimed in, hoping to soothe Vanessa just a bit. “Like I told you, the story is bogus. But you know how hard it is to correct people on these things.”

“Anyway, as she fled through the woods, this poor, confused runaway nun decided to hide her child under a bush and run off noisily in another direction to keep him safe. Unfortunately, the child cried, and her pursuers took it back. When she didn't hear them chasing after her, she went back to check the bush. Her baby was, of course missing. Dejected, she returned to the house, and to her horror, saw her poor, poor boy floating face down in the pool. Tormented by guilt, she picked a handful of poisonous berries from a nearby shrub, swallowed them, and soon died. Today, it's said, her ghost haunts those woods, crying out for the child she never got to know.”

“What a horrible story,” Vanessa remarked as Clint turned the lights back up. “And it's so preposterous, from beginning to end. Any nun would know that suicide is a mortal sin!”

“I don't know,” I said, spooning the now-finished cacciatore into a serving pot, “I've always found the sheer absurdity hilarious. It's about what you'd expect from people with as little exposure to Catholicism as the locals here.”

Clint sat down at the table. “It's one of the more entertaining ones around here. This isn't a particularly exciting place. Maybe that's why they chose here to set up a retreat for nuns.”

I took out the loaf of garlic bread I'd been warming in the oven, sliced it, and handed the platter to Vanessa, who sat it at the table. My husband asked her to give the prayer for our meal, which she gladly obliged. Throughout the meal, we talked about our children, his work, and Sister Vanessa's duties. The Church had decided to sell the retreat to a local investor, and she had been sent to finalize the details of the sale. After that, she was to make her way to the state capital, where she would take up a job teaching Geometry at one of the state's three Catholic schools.

As we ate and talked over glasses of red wine, my husband showed his usual talent for putting people at ease, and with my sense of humor and care to avoid religious jokes, we had the woman I'd known as an uptight shrill laughing and relaxing. At the same time, I noticed my husband sending me the covert hand signals from a system we'd worked out at the beginning of our marriage to tell one another that we found our dinner guests attractive (while keeping said guest in the dark, of course). He traced his index finger around the rim of his wine glass while looking from her to me and back. Vanessa certainly looked a lot prettier when she didn't take herself so seriously, so I rubbed my pinky up and down the stem of my glass while looking into his eyes.

When we'd finished, Clint let out a relaxed sigh. “Rissa, that really hit the spot. Thank you. How about if I clear the table and do the dishes so you two can, uh, catch up?”

That was my final signal to start my usual thing, since dishes were normally my job, too. I offered Vanessa my hand and led her over to the couch, where I sat next to her. “Thank you so much for inviting me over,” she said, looking into my eyes, “That's the best meal I've had in months, and not just because of the company.” At that moment, Clint turned on the sound system, and started playing smooth jazz with a deep bass line.

I turned my torso to face her. “You really mean that?”

She nodded. “I do. I'm...not the best cook, and the one at my old convent was skilled, but far from imaginative.”

Slowly, I moved my left thigh until it was touching her right. Both were still clothed, but I made them touch enough for her to notice. “Cooking is far easier than people give it credit for. The biggest mistake most make is to turn the heat up too high. Keeping it at a moderate level cooks more thoroughly, and lowers the risk of burns or just plain overcooking.”

“I-I knew that much,” she looked away from me briefly, “The few times I've tried making food more complex than instant meals for myself, it turns out badly, even if I keep the heat down.”

I slid my arm around her shoulders. “Was it a dish with both meat and vegetables?” She nodded. “Did you notice how I did my cacciatore? What order I put the ingredients in?”

“You put the olive oil in first.”

“And then?”

“The...chicken.”

“Did I add the peppers right away?”

She shook her head, and I put my free hand on her thigh. “No. You...waited until the meat was fully cooked. Of course.”

I started moving the hand on her thigh back and forth. “Yes. See? There's that skill of developing patience that you were talking to me about. Maybe you could stand to take your own advice a bit.”

“Again, Clarissa...I'm so sorry you saw me as an enemy. I only ever wanted what was best for you.”

“You're forgiven,” I said, moving my face closer to hers, “I was a dumb teenager. I hadn't learned that it wasn't all about me and my ego. And,” My lips were now an inch from hers, “I was trying to reconcile that with how attractive I found you.”

Her face became even more flushed than I'd seen it right after she finished her wine. “I...you...you found me...?” Her eyes got a bit wider as I gave her thigh a squeeze. “Clarissa...I'm not sure we should...”

“Do you not want to?” I moved my face as close as I could get without my vision distorting. “If you want me to stop...just say the word.”

“Y-your husband...is...”

“Totally fine with this,” I used the arm around her shoulders to slowly pull off her veil and bandeau, revealing hair that, unknown to me before now, was blonde and sleek. “You won't be the first woman we've invited to join us. And all I want to know is...are you going to back out? You're welcome to at any time.” She kept staring silently. “That's what I thought.” I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to hers. Her lips stayed, practically frozen, in the same position for just a moment before she loosened up and I pushed the tip of my tongue into her mouth.

Sister Vanessa let out a few moans and I felt her hand resting on the side of my face, then slowly withdrawing as she broke the kiss. “I...I don't know. What you're suggesting...it's so sinful! It's adultery!”

Just then, my husband came into the room and sat down on the other side of Vanessa. “Is it?” he asked. “I'm the one married to her. I fully approve of what you two are doing, and I plan to take part. That is, if you're okay with me touching you, too.”

As I was expecting her to do, Vanessa fell back on scripture. “'Any who looks upon a woman to lust after her has already committed adultery with her in his heart.' That's what Our Lord said!”

“Indeed it is,” I said, planting a kiss on her neck. “But what was He really driving at there? He was talking about loyalty, and how you need to guard your thoughts against disloyalty, lest they lead you down a path of betrayal.”

“Clarissa and I do not betray one another,” Clint said before Vanessa could raise another objection. “Any time one of us sleeps with someone else, the other knows about it within twenty-four hours. And we never make bedroom guests out of those who we think would be likely to disrupt our marriage.” He ran his fingers through her flaxen hair. “You plan to be on the move come morning, to a place three counties over. And you could have left at any moment, but you didn't. That tells me you want this. Don't you?”

She seemed ready to speak again, so I put my own bit in here. “And wasn't it our very own St. Augustine who said 'Lord, make me chaste, but not yet?'”

“I...I just need a moment.”

My husband nodded. “Sure, do what you need.”

Vanessa sat straight for a moment, made the sign of the cross, and said “Father, forgive me, for I am about to sin.”

She took a deep breath, clasping her hands for a moment, then releasing. “I'm ready.” With that, she grabbed Clint's face and pulled him into a kiss. I saw him putting his hands on her breasts as I worked off her skirt, stockings, and panties. She had incredibly smooth legs for a woman her age. I pulled her legs apart, seeing a bush that looked like it had been given an electric trim, but nothing else. “Mmmh...”

I kissed one of Vanessa's knees. “Is something wrong?”

“I...I've never done anything...with a woman before,” she looked down at me between her legs.

“Does that mean you've been with men before?” Clint asked.

“J-just two. Years apart. Only once... each.” She nodded slowly. “And...it was dark. I've...never even seen a p-p-p-”

“Penis?” I finished her sentence for her.

She gave an audible gulp and nodded. “I...might need a little help.”

I patted her thighs and took her hands. “Get down here with me.” She got onto her knees on the carpet. I started making out with her again while taking her vest and habit off, and silently encouraging her to remove my shirt and bra. Before long, we were kissing with our breasts touching. Hers weren't quite as big as mine, but still impressive. When we came up for air, my husband was on his feet, his pants removed, and his erect cock pointing directly between our faces. I looked at it just as Sister Vanessa did, and I saw her face go deep red. “A common mistake for women is to not be gentle,” I grabbed his cock, stroking it slowly to illustrate what I meant. “Go on, try it.” She reached out to it as though I had asked her to pet a rattlesnake, running her fingers from the head to the base.

“It...it looks nice,” She looked up at my husband, who smiled down on her.

“Tastes nice too,” I moved my head closer, taking the glans in my mouth, swirling my tongue around it a few times, then pulling back. “You give it a try. Mainly focus on not touching it with your teeth.”

Vanessa opened her mouth wide, tried moving it to the base, gagged, then pulled back and closed her lips over the glans, though judging from Clint's reactions, she wasn't using her tongue. Fair enough, since she couldn't have seen me doing so. I patted her butt reassuringly, then joined her by first running my tongue along the shaft, then taking one of my husband's balls into my mouth. She seemed to be trying to get his cock as far into her mouth as she could, but couldn't get more than an inch or two past the glans. My husband had figured out that was happening, and patted her on the head. “You're doing a fine job, Sister. Don't hurt yourself.”

She pulled away and I started stroking him while staring into her eyes. This time, she smiled and pulled me into a kiss, cupping my breasts in her hands, almost tentatively as if asking for unspoken permission. “Touch me anywhere you like, Vanessa,” I whispered. Her hands trailed down me and I felt her undoing my belt and pulling my pants off. I stood up to allow her to remove them all the way.

“I really do care for you, Clarissa,” she said, kissing my hips and thighs as my last bits of clothing came off. “I want to make you feel good. But...I don't know how.”

“That's perfectly fine,” I said, gesturing over to the couch and giving her butt a small push. “Just lie down, spread your legs, and I'll show you what to do.” With a silent nod, she obeyed me and sat down, gripping her thighs and holding them open. I got onto the cushion next to her, kissing her soft cheeks and slowly dragging my tongue across her labia. I kissed and stroked it, pushed my tongue inside to taste her, and circled it flat around her clit. She laughed, moaned, muttered another prayer under her breath, panted, and finally looked down at me while stroking my hair. I looked back up at her, right into her eyes as I pushed my ring and index fingers inside her, feeling around. Sure enough, as she'd admitted before, there was no hymen to be found. Her reactions gave me an idea of her anatomy and personal tastes, and I felt a little sad for her, since I discovered her g-spot was about the size of a silver dollar, and she'd sworn herself to a life of celibacy. Nothing for it; my husband and I could help her enjoy herself, even if only for a night.

With my mouth constantly over her sex and my fingers in her, I brought her up and down repeatedly, in and out, until finally I decided to bring her off. She cried out my name and pressed her thighs firmly against my head as a faint trickle of juices came out of her and her whole body shook. Luckily, I had enough experience with other women to know how to keep myself from suffocating as she involuntarily clenched me with her legs. I eagerly lapped up what she'd let out, patting her thigh softly to encourage her to release me. Sure, I could have wriggled free on my own, but I thought she was better off being aware of her own tendencies.

As Vanessa released her legs, I kissed my way slowly up her body, flicking my tongue through her navel, across each of her nipples, and finally up her neck before I rested my body atop hers and kissed her. She paused for a moment, no doubt realizing she was tasting herself on my lips, then kissed me back. I smiled at her as she opened her eyes. “Oh, Clarissa...that was lovely. Thank you.”

I squeezed one of her breasts. “If you really want to thank me, then you can do the same thing for me while my husband fucks you.”

She swallowed. “Of...of course.” I rolled off her and to the side as she crawled back. She ran her hands along my thighs. “Oh, wow...I can feel how strong you are.”

I smirked. “You'll have time aplenty to feel just how strong my thighs are. Now...are you going to please me like you said you would?”

She nodded and put her face between my legs, giving a bunch of short, frequent strokes, as if she were licking an ice cream cone. “Slowly,” I put my hand on the back of her head, but didn't pull it towards my pussy, “Take your time. Really savor it. Use the flat of your tongue, not the tip. Yeah...right there on my nub, Sister.”

Behind her, I saw my husband sitting up and squeezing his cock, testing its hardness. I knew he was staring right between Sister Vanessa's bare cheeks, presented to him right in the air. “You know, Vanessa, I have a confession to make.”

“N-not a Priest,” she said, pulling away from me before I gave her a light tug that made her get back to her task.

“Not that kind of confession,” He started slapping her rear cheeks with his stiff cock, causing her to pause, but only briefly. “You see, I've actually heard your name before. My wife told me about you one night, during pillow talk. She said that you'd transferred to her parish when she was sixteen. Said that she thought you were rather strict and closed-minded.” Vanessa paused again, but even more briefly than before, and without me having to remind her to continue. “She told me about some things in Catholic theology that didn't make much sense to her. Do you remember what you said when she told you the Trinity made no sense to her?”

I loosened my grip on Vanessa's head to show her it was okay for her to answer. “'You speak heresies', I think.”

“And Clarissa, my awesome, hilarious, sexy wife...what did you say to her?” Clint reached between Vanessa's legs and did something that made her squeal for half a second.

I recalled my own answer. “'Fluently.'”

“She said that you 'flew into a rage',” my husband grabbed his cock and looked between Vanessa's legs once again, which I knew meant he was putting his cock at her entrance. “Said that you told her she was 'saying wicked things' and 'possessed by the devil', and was 'risking damnation'.” He gave a lurch forward that prompted another moan from Vanessa—he'd just entered her. The realization made me much wetter. “Really, sister, is that any way to talk to a lost, confused young woman who comes to you for guidance?” His hips moved slowly.

“I'mp fhorry!” Vanessa gurgled, her mouth muffled by my pussy.

“Oh, no, you're not sorry,” he said, “Not as sorry as you're about to be.” With that, he started fucking her ten times as hard as before, causing her to moan even louder. I still maintained the grip on her head, and she licked and fingered my pussy just as I'd shown her as I reached forward and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them and pinching her nipples. She ate my pussy like her life depended on it as the slaps from my husband's hips on her ass bounced off the walls and echoed through the kitchen. I have never faked an orgasm in my life, and that night was no exception as I cried out, clenching my thighs against her face, far more firmly than she'd done to me, but making sure not to block her nostrils as my own juices came out of me and washed down her throat, half of them falling onto the scotch-guarded cushions below. My husband grunted, gave one last thrust, then pulled out and shot his load over her back.

Vanessa trembled and writhed as her own orgasm rode through her, clearly not a sensation she was used to. I released her from my thighs and stroked her hair. “Clarissa...can you forgive me for being so beastly to you?” She kissed my swollen lips and inner thighs.

“After the orgasm you just gave me, I can forgive anything.” I sat upright and lifted her beneath her shoulders, kissing her more tenderly than I yet had that night. “I also told my husband about the crush I'd had on you. He knew that doing this with me was basically a dream come true for me.”

Her eyes darted from the left to the right, as if looking for some sort of clever comeback that never came. She laughed, then grabbed my face, pulling me into another kiss. “I think...I was infatuated with you too, Clarissa. Maybe that's why I lashed out. I couldn't deal with the feelings you gave me."

“What did I say?” I playfully bit her chin. “You don't need to justify yourself to me. Just kiss me again.” She obeyed. As soon as I felt she'd had her fill, I set her down and stood. “How about I clean the mess my husband made on your back, you clean the one you made on his cock, and then we all go take a shower? There's plenty of room for the three of us in our stall.”

She feebly nodded as my husband and I switched places. Though I wasn't in a position to see it, I could hear her slurping her tongue around his cock like a candy cane as I licked his cum off her back. I even took the opportunity and buried my face in her ass, tonguing her tight little pucker once more. As soon as I was satisfied with what I'd done, I got up, took Vanessa by the hand, and led her to our bathroom.

As was her wont (I never found out what had brought about such a profound change in her personality over the years), Vanessa tried apologizing again, and as was my wont, I silenced her with another kiss as my husband started the water before the three of us climbed in together. At one point, Vanessa tried to eat my pussy again in the shower, but discovered that the jet of water constantly shooting from the wall made it too difficult.

While we did manage to get our hair clean, most of the shower consisted of me and Sister Vanessa making out, putting our hands absolutely everywhere on each other's bodies, rubbing a bar of soap between us to spread the suds, and my husband stroking himself while he watched us. These kisses felt less hungry and desperate, and more warm and tender, especially when she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me as close to her as she could.

After we'd had our fun in the shower, Vanessa blow-dried her hair, got her clothes back on, and made for the door. “Thank you for dinner,” she bowed to us, “And thank you especially for what came after.”

“That'd be you,” I smirked.

“Ha, ha, ha,” she shook her head. “Really though, I enjoyed it, and as much as I'd like to spend the night, I need to check out of my hotel before 10 tomorrow so they don't bill me for a second day. You two are an amazing couple, and I hope you have a wonderful life together.”

“Don't be a stranger!” I called after her.

“Come back and visit whenever you want, even if I'm not here!” My husband added.

She shook her head. “You two are incorrigible.” I saw her crossing herself as she stepped out and shut the door behind her.

“How do you think she'll spend tomorrow?”

I shrugged. “Considering she's a nun? Driving, meeting her new Priest, then stoning him to death with popcorn.”

He laughed. “Too true. You really liked that, didn't you?”

I nodded. “Like I said, it was a long-time fantasy fulfilled.”

He slapped my ass. “Speaking of filling, I'm nowhere near done with you yet.”