Chapter 3

The loneliness of my circumstances never quite bothered me until my consummate lover and best friend, my married neighbor Jennie was diagnosed with a fast moving cancer in her vital organs that sent her to her grave in a few short weeks.

I realized that my sex life was entirely dependent on her largesse and frequent bending over the sink in her kitchen when her husband was in the hot tub with the visiting teenaged girls from the city. She never objected to his shameful cheating ways as long as I was there to supply her with oodles of cock to keep her mind off his shameful disloyal ways.

Fortunately, her twin sister Wendy visiting to attend the funeral decided to stay in my lonely place and console me for almost a week bestowing her feminine favors on me to the point that I feared for the long-term effects on my completely exhausted shaft of enlightenment. I understood that I was a fully compliant man whore whenever I was in close proximity to Wendy and all she had to do was open her mouth and lick her lips in a certain way and I knew it was the start of another round of her style of hard-core loving. It was like being a prisoner of lust and loving every minute of it.

My beloved Jennie was a true romantic of the first order, whilst her sister was a “down and dirty” female that liked it a bit rough and talked the language of filth and depravity usually found in pubs and brothels in contrast to her sister that preferred the words of dreamy-eyed poets speaking of everlasting love and the all-consuming search for the perfect soul-mate.

Still, she looked like Jennie and her ass and tits were perfect replicas of Jennie’s perfect feminine assets. With that as a starting point, I could take Wendy, warts and all, and slobber all over myself each time she opened her knees.

Unfortunately, I arrived home early one afternoon and found her being poked at both ends by a pair of wastrels from the other side of the tracks with nothing on their mind except switching and trying the other side. Needless to say, that was the moment that Wendy and I parted ways and now that I look back at it in retrospect, I can see that it was a fortuitous moment because it set me on a different direction in my search for meaningful purpose in the chaos of ordinary living.

The end of Wendy supplying me with generous portions of nocturnal exercises drove me to look in the wrong places for a suitable replacement.

None of the registered debutante types seemed willing to try me on due to my passing the normal age limitations on spousal qualifications, especially for those of the virginal category. I was forced to look into other pools of suitable available pussy like widows or divorcees living in close proximity. I tried on a widow or two and found them most agreeable pussy-wise, but lacking in comfortable conversation that always centered on their former spouse. Some of the recently divorced ladies of good-breeding were desperate for masculine protection and were willing to trade their feminine dignity for steady income and strong hand at the helm in handling uppity servants. I certainly filled that bill, but I found that the vast majority of them to have a low regard for male intelligence and to possess a brain filled with resentment for the other gender.

Actually, I found my new replacement in the oddest place of all ... a convent.

Sister Angelica was truly an angel in disguise.

She had entered the convent a virgin and since she had little or no contact with the masculine general public, her virginity was most assuredly intact unless she had been drugged by some scheming priest and bedded without her knowledge.

Therefore, I had a clean slate with regard to training Angelica to my style of copulation and I could foresee little difficulty in molding her to my image of the perfect female companion.

I convinced her after long discussion that I was completely a hopeless lovelorn slave of rejected love and that I merely wanted a conversational partner to lull me to sleep with her meditations and opines on every traditional topic of discussion with the possible exception of politics which I found dreadfully boring even in the extreme circumstance.

We started our merger quite slowly and eventually I managed to gain her confidence to the point that we could lounge on the bed hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder with our skin touching in many instances and with her soft red lips pursed for kissing and ready for the consummate joining of our trembling loins. Of course, I pretended complete indifference and that is the key that opened up her heart and her pussy for my extended explorations. Soon, we were humping like a pair of monkeys in the treetops shouting and laughing each time we achieved a new pinnacle of orgasmic release. I became fully conversant with her pussy, her tight little ass and the mysteries of her wet tongue and lips. She lost all sense of reserve and would fall to her knees not in prayer but to suck my cock with reckless enthusiasm.

I believe it was the repeated sounds of her laughter and giggles that finally drove the “Black Dog” from my door forever more and I resolved to retain the new Lady Angelica as my bride and true soul-mate in lust, if not in love, in a two-way sense.

It was a fortunate decision, because the Lady Angelica was heavy with child shortly after the wedding and we both were fairly certain that the latter preceded the former, if the truth be known.

Little Lady Annie was as pretty a baby that one could possibly see. She started life in a bit of a crisis because some nasty elements from the north had invaded the country and threatened our peaceful way of life. She had two nannies and they often fought for possession with tooth and claw. I felt grateful to have such defenders surrounding her like a bodyguard of extreme capability. My Angelica was changed after the birth and suddenly she had turned to a religious bent which I suspected was instilled by the new bishop of the region that considered former nuns his property and not to be given away to landed gentry willy-nilly like prizes in a contest of impressive monetary support. Apparently, the tentacles of the church extended much deeper than I had suspected and they were jealous of their assets that were the source of contested ownership.