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This video takes me back to my early days in Catholic boarding school. My first sexual experience was with a Nun. Sister Joyce was the youngest of all the Nuns in our school. Some days she would wear a traditional habit and other days she would wear tight jeans which we all found to be a bit odd since all of the other Nuns always wore habits. Sister Joyce was the one exception. Her jeans would drive all the boys wild and she loved every moment of it. One late night, to my surprise, she came into my dorm room and nudged me until I awakened. I couldn’t tell that it was her because the bright light shining from her flashlight blinded me-- only her voice revealed her identity. She told me to get out of bed and put on my slippers. I quickly acquiesced to her demands and she hastily led me to a small room down the hallway not far from my dorm. Once we entered the room she pointed me to sit in an old wooden rocking chair, then she proceeded to ask me if I liked her--to which I nervously responded by saying, “Yes Sister.” The lights in the room were on when we entered but now she pivoted towards the light switch and the room went dark. I could hear something rustling--the sound that clothes make when they’re being removed. Suddenly I felt the touch of her warm hand atop my trembling hand, she pulled my hand forward and then I felt what seemed to be a warm moist rag, however, a rag it was not--it was her pussy. She pushed my quivering index finger into her wet crevice, then she shoved my middle finger into her heated nook and began to throttle herself with both of my fingers and one of her own. After what seemed to be an hour, but was only about 7 or 8 minutes, I felt a flow of warm liquid and heard a quiet moan. I assumed that Sister Joyce had urinated on my hand but it didn’t feel like urine--its texture was slippery and sticky, and I had no idea what it was. I heard the same rustling that I’d heard before, then suddenly the lights were back on, and Sister Joyce was fully clothed-- her thigh jeans zipped and buttoned securely around her waist. She then led me to the boys' lavatory and instructed me to wash my hands. As she ushered me back down the hallway towards my dorm room she noticed the bulge in the crotch of my pajama bottoms. I was embarrassed and told her I was sorry. I will never forget her angelic smile as she looked me in the face and said, “It’s okay, that’s supposed to happen, it means you’re a good boy.” She never told me not to tell the rest of the boys of that night-- as if she already knew that I would not. And she was correct. I never told a soul until many years later, when I told my wife about my enthralling night with Sister Joyce. And to my shock my wife looked at me with the exact angelic look that Sister Joyce had shown me so many years ago and said, “It’s okay, that was supposed to happen, it turned you into such a good man.” Thanks, Sister Joyce, wherever you may be in heaven or that other place. 🙏
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