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As morning dawned I fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake till lunchtime. Ibecame aware that I was hard again and that something nice was happening tomy cock. Peering through bleary eyes I saw a blonde head centred in my crutchand bobbing up and down. It took a while for me to understand that she wasgiving me a blowjob. I ran my hands through her hair holding her head steadyso that I could force my prick into her throat. She pulled away and said, "Good, you're awake at last. Give it to me again,lover; you are such a wonderful fucker. I simply can't get enough of you."She wriggled up my body and kissed me with renewed passion. I rolled overonto her and attempted to enter again."No not in there," she giggled, "put it in here." She raised her legs onto my shoulders and presented her lovely bottom to me.Her abundant juices had run down the crack of her bum and her hole was welllubricated. It required some effort to force my cock into her anus. Once thehead was passed her sphincter I. "Fuck, now, fuck me now," she commanded as her pussy gushed an orgasm which literally dripped down my fingers then my wrist.I positioned myself and eased into her steaming, streaming pussy. Savouring the heat, I held my cock still, and then worked deep, slow strokes into her womanhood. Hazel worked her pelvis to meet my strokes in unison, and we mutually moved up a gear as I slammed home. "Hard, deep, harshhhhhhh," she almost screamed."Fuck, fuck, fuck that cunt, fuck that cunt, God it's fuckin good," I gasped out in joy, as sweat poured down my face.I felt Hazel's pussy contract and her juice liberally coated my balls, as I came with her, shooting my seed deep in her love canal. I pulled free and moved under Hazel on the bed. We kissed deeply and then just held each other very tight in a lengthy embrace. A while passed with our bodies entwined, I felt her body's heat and her heart pulse. Gently fondling my balls and stroking my cock, Hazel twisted and rose above me, got me hard and.
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Her habit was white linen, with brown panels down the front and back, draped over her shoulders, and tied at the waist with a white rope. The tips of her black shoes peeped at me from under the long skirt. She had on a brown veil, and her white wimple was wrapped tight around her face like a bandage. A crucifix sat on her bosom. It was dark wood, with a silver Jesus on it, and it hung from her neck on a brown string. She had taken a vow of poverty, she told us once. A chain would be a vanity.“Lift your skirt up,” she said.I just stood there.“Do you not understand English? Take hold of your skirt and lift it up.”I pulled the pleats an inch above my knees.“All the way up.”“What for, Sister?”“Because I’m telling you to.”She knew, and there was nothing I could do. She would have sat there and stared me down all night. I pulled my skirt higher, slowly, steadily, and her eyes trailed up my legs until I felt them on my brown puff of hair. Then I dropped the skirt, fast.“I thought so,”.

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