Parochial Wisdom
Introduction:
Sex in a Catholic School
The autumn breeze blew across the Pacific ocean, bringing light fog and salty air across the Bay Area. Oakland, California was the place where I first tuned into sex and where the pattern of my sexuality was rooted. It was my first time in a parochial school and I was not really enjoying all the rituals of the religious affluence that prevailed upon our small campus. In fact, it semed to be almost a concentration camp type atmoshere, with the always present rigorous expectations of the head sister, Sister Marcia. There were few conflicts between the student body of this junior high and the parochial leaders of the campus. In fact, the principal, Father Denolia was hardly ever seen. Sister Marcia was the everpresent, omnipresent, prevailing authoritative figure.
Eighth grade was actually the easiest of my grade since I could remember. It seemed to me that it was just an overview of what I had been taught in my various grade levels up to that time.
Sister Martina was the first Russian person I had ever known and was our teacher for the semester. She was a redheaded, slightly chunky, but not terribly overweight, rather tall lady. Looking back, I would have to guess she was around 27 or 28 years old and was almost six feet tall. She was prevaling, yet fair, and was really enjoying being able to teach. her Russian accent was still a little heavy, but was very well understood.
October 1 found us studying English. About halfway through the class, Sister Martina stopped the lecture she had begun and said, “I am needing a couple of students to go to the old wine cellar by Father Denolia’s office and get a couple of old English books for me. The old wine cellar had been converted into a storage facility for the over abundance of not only school texts,
but religious texts also. She pointed to me and the girl behind me, Lacie Adkins, to go do the chore, giving us the shelf number that the books would be located on and the titles of the books in question. Lacie was a cute, skinny girl that was almost always by herself, not popular, not pretty, just a plain country girl that had moved to the city. We had gotten along pretty well because we were from the same background, farm children, tossed into the concrete world of the big city, by the death of one of our parents. With her hand stuck deep into the pockets of her plaid dress, she and I started off to the old wine cellar. As we approached the door, we could hear muffled noises coming from the wine cellar, not really wanting to confront any one, we looked at each other briefly, before easily opening the door and entering the room. The muffled sounds were less restrained as we moved over to the shelf we were looking for. We could hear labored breathing and suddenly a slight gasp and a male voice saying, “Oh, yes, Sister, suck that hard dick.” It was language that I could tell Lacie didn;t understand, and I didn’t really. Getting the books off of the shelf, provided us a cinematic view of Father Denolia sitting on the edge of a padded chair, his pants down around his ankles, and a very naked Sister Marcia with his hard male peepee in her mouth, eagerly bobbing her head upon its length. Her head resembled a fishing cork bobbing up and down with the rhythym, of a biting fish. Lacie and I looked at each other in a frightened look, knowing that what ever these two were doing, we certainly were not supposed to see, and each of us, we would find out later, feared what would happen to us if we were caught or noticed. Suddenly, Sister Marcia, a stocky 170 pound woman, released her oral grasp of the long manhood of the Father’s, and easily sat down upon its entire length. She began a gentle up and down pumping motion upon the target of her affection, moaning more frequently and using that four letter word, we had only seen in restroom walls or heard at the various bus stops through out the city. “OH FUCK ME HOLY FATHER IN HEAVEN, FUCK MY SLIMEY PUSSY UNTIL YOU BLAST ME WITH YOUR HOLY WAD OF HOT STEAMY CUM, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!!!” she vigorously exhaled, as she continued her pumping motion upon Father Denalis’s captured cock. Lacie and I looked at each other wanting to leave just as Sister Marcia emiited a scary, gurgling type scream, “HOLY FATHER, FORGIVE ME IF I GET PREGNANT, BUT I HAVE TO FEEL YOUR CUM DEEP IN MY PUSSY!!! It was evident that Father Denali didn’t want what took place to happen, but he could not escape the grasp Sister Marcia had upon his length that was buried to the hilt. “OH, SHIT!!!” he exclaimed, as both he and her violently rocked and we heard the spurting of their orgasm and saw the spewing of the white, milky expulsions that spewed from around the plugged hole of Sister Marcia, depositing themselves on his balls, ass cheeks, and onto the chair beneath them. Lacie and I looked at each other, turned quickly and headed for the door, silently making our way back to the classroom.
Sister Martina never questioned us as we handed her the books and sat down. Quickly glancing back at Lacie, I could tell she was relieved we had escaped from what we had witnessed unscathed. “Thank you two for being so kind,” Sister Martina said, as she began an oratory from the introduction of one of the books. Quickly, class was over, The three thirty bell rang and everyone headed for home. Sister Martina tapped me on the shoulder just as I was ready to leave the room. “Would you be so kind as to return these books for me?” she asked. Somewhat perplexed, but relieved, I took them and headed down the hall. I was relieved to see Sister Marcia headed off toward her office and Father Denolia, walking towards the library. Feeling someone looking at me, I turned and saw Lacie coming my direction. “You know, what we saw today, we can never tell anyone, don’t you?”, she asserted. “What did we see?”, I asked in return. “What we saw today was not only two people fucking, but two people committing sin that they should not even be thinking of doing,” she said matter of factly. Following me into the wine cellar, she took the books from me and put them back on the shelf, turned to me and lifting up her skirt, showed me her pantiless pussy, a slight feathering of pubic hair slightly covering her frontal area. Taking my hand, she brought it down to her hairy region. “Easily slide a finger into me,” she demanded. Even with the slight wetness of her inner ring, she grimaced a little as the intrusion of my finger spread her inner walls. “That is my pussy you are feeling,” she said sweetly. The more you slid your finger into me, the wetter it will become, then it will spurt a creamy liquid onto your hand, just like the liquid we saw coming out of Father Denali and Sister Marcia.” I saw my mom and dad do the same thing once when mom was alive,” she said sadly. Her breathing had grown heavier as I continued my in and out motion inside her tightness. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand, closed her legs around my hand, and I felt the stickiness of the white fluid all over my hand and saw it running down her inner thigh. “Thank you for that,” she gently said, as we turned and headed out the door and into the hallway.
Later that evening, as I went off to bed, I started thinking about the happenings of the day, wondering how all the things that happened were going to affect me in the days ahead. I could hear mom in the kitchen talking on the phone, then I started remembering some of the things that had been happening recently around the house. I thought about Roger, Mom’s friend that used to come visit. He was a nice man it seemed, yet it seemed mom had been a little hesitant in having him over, Then I thought of the one night back in August when we first moved into our apartment. I rmembered a soft buzzing noise coming from mom’s room late one evening, and heard a gentle moaning coming from through the door. Itwas finally coming into place, mom was lonesome, but not willing to have sex with just anyone, I began to get the picture, I bet she had one of those vibrators I had heard some jokes about in the past few weeks. Just as I was about to linger off to sleep, I heard that gentle humming sound again and the slight moaning from mom’s room. Quietly, I slipped out my door and down the hall to hers. Her door was slightly ajar as I easily pushed it . The humming sound became more of a buzz as I easily entered in. The night light on her wall cast a dim light upon her as she lay on her stomach, and a white bulbous, long tapered object was inserted halfway into her pussy. Her arm reaching, straining slightly as she softly moaned in rhythm with the buzzing of her object of affection, now deeply inserted in her snatch. Enrapt
in ecstacy, she never knew I was present as she shuddered and I could see the wettening fluid escape from deep withih her bowels. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed, her head in her pillow, and the tapered vibrator, still buzzing, still lodged in her pussy. I decided I had seen enough, and silently crept out of her room and back into bed. My head was swimming as I recalled that sight of my mom in her state of ecstacy. I felt a slight tightening in my crotch, and looked to see that it was beginning to stiffen a bit and that a small portion of the milky type substance had formed on the tip of my peepee. My balls were beginning to swell, and I began to be worried when my stifness got more advance. Now, I was afraid I would not ever get rid of the stiffness. With my hand wrapped around my risen prick, I began to slide the foreskin up and over the burning and itching tip of my cock. Suddenly, it spurted the same milky juice all over my hands and onto my belly. Careful to not let any get on my bed clothes, I easily slipped my underwear off and silently made my way to the bathroom to clean up. What an awakening! I now had experienced. That wonderful feeling of lust, and now had dealt with it as I could. I thought to myself, today, five people I knew had experienced some type of sexual experience. Each of us had managed to quell the desire in separate ways.
Eighth grade was actually the easiest of my grade since I could remember. It seemed to me that it was just an overview of what I had been taught in my various grade levels up to that time.
Sister Martina was the first Russian person I had ever known and was our teacher for the semester. She was a redheaded, slightly chunky, but not terribly overweight, rather tall lady. Looking back, I would have to guess she was around 27 or 28 years old and was almost six feet tall. She was prevaling, yet fair, and was really enjoying being able to teach. her Russian accent was still a little heavy, but was very well understood.
October 1 found us studying English. About halfway through the class, Sister Martina stopped the lecture she had begun and said, “I am needing a couple of students to go to the old wine cellar by Father Denolia’s office and get a couple of old English books for me. The old wine cellar had been converted into a storage facility for the over abundance of not only school texts,
but religious texts also. She pointed to me and the girl behind me, Lacie Adkins, to go do the chore, giving us the shelf number that the books would be located on and the titles of the books in question. Lacie was a cute, skinny girl that was almost always by herself, not popular, not pretty, just a plain country girl that had moved to the city. We had gotten along pretty well because we were from the same background, farm children, tossed into the concrete world of the big city, by the death of one of our parents. With her hand stuck deep into the pockets of her plaid dress, she and I started off to the old wine cellar. As we approached the door, we could hear muffled noises coming from the wine cellar, not really wanting to confront any one, we looked at each other briefly, before easily opening the door and entering the room. The muffled sounds were less restrained as we moved over to the shelf we were looking for. We could hear labored breathing and suddenly a slight gasp and a male voice saying, “Oh, yes, Sister, suck that hard dick.” It was language that I could tell Lacie didn;t understand, and I didn’t really. Getting the books off of the shelf, provided us a cinematic view of Father Denolia sitting on the edge of a padded chair, his pants down around his ankles, and a very naked Sister Marcia with his hard male peepee in her mouth, eagerly bobbing her head upon its length. Her head resembled a fishing cork bobbing up and down with the rhythym, of a biting fish. Lacie and I looked at each other in a frightened look, knowing that what ever these two were doing, we certainly were not supposed to see, and each of us, we would find out later, feared what would happen to us if we were caught or noticed. Suddenly, Sister Marcia, a stocky 170 pound woman, released her oral grasp of the long manhood of the Father’s, and easily sat down upon its entire length. She began a gentle up and down pumping motion upon the target of her affection, moaning more frequently and using that four letter word, we had only seen in restroom walls or heard at the various bus stops through out the city. “OH FUCK ME HOLY FATHER IN HEAVEN, FUCK MY SLIMEY PUSSY UNTIL YOU BLAST ME WITH YOUR HOLY WAD OF HOT STEAMY CUM, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME!!!” she vigorously exhaled, as she continued her pumping motion upon Father Denalis’s captured cock. Lacie and I looked at each other wanting to leave just as Sister Marcia emiited a scary, gurgling type scream, “HOLY FATHER, FORGIVE ME IF I GET PREGNANT, BUT I HAVE TO FEEL YOUR CUM DEEP IN MY PUSSY!!! It was evident that Father Denali didn’t want what took place to happen, but he could not escape the grasp Sister Marcia had upon his length that was buried to the hilt. “OH, SHIT!!!” he exclaimed, as both he and her violently rocked and we heard the spurting of their orgasm and saw the spewing of the white, milky expulsions that spewed from around the plugged hole of Sister Marcia, depositing themselves on his balls, ass cheeks, and onto the chair beneath them. Lacie and I looked at each other, turned quickly and headed for the door, silently making our way back to the classroom.
Sister Martina never questioned us as we handed her the books and sat down. Quickly glancing back at Lacie, I could tell she was relieved we had escaped from what we had witnessed unscathed. “Thank you two for being so kind,” Sister Martina said, as she began an oratory from the introduction of one of the books. Quickly, class was over, The three thirty bell rang and everyone headed for home. Sister Martina tapped me on the shoulder just as I was ready to leave the room. “Would you be so kind as to return these books for me?” she asked. Somewhat perplexed, but relieved, I took them and headed down the hall. I was relieved to see Sister Marcia headed off toward her office and Father Denolia, walking towards the library. Feeling someone looking at me, I turned and saw Lacie coming my direction. “You know, what we saw today, we can never tell anyone, don’t you?”, she asserted. “What did we see?”, I asked in return. “What we saw today was not only two people fucking, but two people committing sin that they should not even be thinking of doing,” she said matter of factly. Following me into the wine cellar, she took the books from me and put them back on the shelf, turned to me and lifting up her skirt, showed me her pantiless pussy, a slight feathering of pubic hair slightly covering her frontal area. Taking my hand, she brought it down to her hairy region. “Easily slide a finger into me,” she demanded. Even with the slight wetness of her inner ring, she grimaced a little as the intrusion of my finger spread her inner walls. “That is my pussy you are feeling,” she said sweetly. The more you slid your finger into me, the wetter it will become, then it will spurt a creamy liquid onto your hand, just like the liquid we saw coming out of Father Denali and Sister Marcia.” I saw my mom and dad do the same thing once when mom was alive,” she said sadly. Her breathing had grown heavier as I continued my in and out motion inside her tightness. Suddenly, she grabbed my hand, closed her legs around my hand, and I felt the stickiness of the white fluid all over my hand and saw it running down her inner thigh. “Thank you for that,” she gently said, as we turned and headed out the door and into the hallway.
Later that evening, as I went off to bed, I started thinking about the happenings of the day, wondering how all the things that happened were going to affect me in the days ahead. I could hear mom in the kitchen talking on the phone, then I started remembering some of the things that had been happening recently around the house. I thought about Roger, Mom’s friend that used to come visit. He was a nice man it seemed, yet it seemed mom had been a little hesitant in having him over, Then I thought of the one night back in August when we first moved into our apartment. I rmembered a soft buzzing noise coming from mom’s room late one evening, and heard a gentle moaning coming from through the door. Itwas finally coming into place, mom was lonesome, but not willing to have sex with just anyone, I began to get the picture, I bet she had one of those vibrators I had heard some jokes about in the past few weeks. Just as I was about to linger off to sleep, I heard that gentle humming sound again and the slight moaning from mom’s room. Quietly, I slipped out my door and down the hall to hers. Her door was slightly ajar as I easily pushed it . The humming sound became more of a buzz as I easily entered in. The night light on her wall cast a dim light upon her as she lay on her stomach, and a white bulbous, long tapered object was inserted halfway into her pussy. Her arm reaching, straining slightly as she softly moaned in rhythm with the buzzing of her object of affection, now deeply inserted in her snatch. Enrapt
in ecstacy, she never knew I was present as she shuddered and I could see the wettening fluid escape from deep withih her bowels. Exhausted, she collapsed onto the bed, her head in her pillow, and the tapered vibrator, still buzzing, still lodged in her pussy. I decided I had seen enough, and silently crept out of her room and back into bed. My head was swimming as I recalled that sight of my mom in her state of ecstacy. I felt a slight tightening in my crotch, and looked to see that it was beginning to stiffen a bit and that a small portion of the milky type substance had formed on the tip of my peepee. My balls were beginning to swell, and I began to be worried when my stifness got more advance. Now, I was afraid I would not ever get rid of the stiffness. With my hand wrapped around my risen prick, I began to slide the foreskin up and over the burning and itching tip of my cock. Suddenly, it spurted the same milky juice all over my hands and onto my belly. Careful to not let any get on my bed clothes, I easily slipped my underwear off and silently made my way to the bathroom to clean up. What an awakening! I now had experienced. That wonderful feeling of lust, and now had dealt with it as I could. I thought to myself, today, five people I knew had experienced some type of sexual experience. Each of us had managed to quell the desire in separate ways.
