Chapter 9

Two and a half weeks after the Diocese Day baseball game the school year ended, and I was out for the summer. Resuming my regular hours at St. Bart’s there was a lot of garden repair and replacement that should have taken a couple of weeks. But all my work that summer there was being constantly interrupted. Apart from Sister Agnes, the rest of the sisters seemed to have found a new fascination with my body that they wanted to exploit.

Mother Superior never mentioned my day alone with Sister Mary Cecile. Only a day went by though when she found a reason for me to do some work in the storage room in the basement. I was only there a few minutes before she came to check on me. Soon Cassie was pleasuring me with one of her amazing blowjobs. It ended with her bending over a chair and taking me from behind to a slapping, exhilarating but voice-stifled orgasm. As we straightened our clothes she said, “You certainly lasted longer this time than you did when you came to paint my room that day Toby. You’re not cheating on me, are you?” While the expression on her face was stern, she gave me a wry smile and winked while waggling her finger and mouthing “Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

As she was leaving the storage room she turned and said, “But, be careful Toby.” I thought that was all she would have to say but she lingered for another moment, and added, “Young man, you’re certainly putting a new spring in the steps of some appreciative sisters here.” Giving me an appreciative smile, she went on, “I absolutely loved how effectively you drove that hard thing inside me Tobe.” Her face clouded. “But we must all be careful Toby, not everybody here is your friend, or mine.” I thought she was talking about Sister Agnes but before the summer was out, I found there was someone entirely new to concern myself about.

Sister Mary Cecile and I were finding ways to get together more frequently which made our sex more comfortable and satisfying. Though I was still taking care of my “responsibilities” with the other sisters there seemed to be an undercurrent in the convent that seemed a little strained to me. During one of my private sessions with Sister Natalie in the storage room I mentioned to her that I thought the sisters were closing Mary Cecile out. She replied, “Mary Cecile is much younger than the other sisters Toby.” I hadn’t given that much thought. But before the Diocese game they had been nothing but civil to the young nun. The Mother Superior went on, “That kind of age difference Toby often creates a bit of tension amongst women of the cloth. But that might change if you were to start paying more detailed attention to Sisters Mary Celeste and Mary Kathleen when you are with them in the preschool ... and perhaps you should try doing it a little more frequently. And (holding her finger and thumb up almost pinching them together) maybe you should scale back your activities with Mary Cecile just a touch.” I got the point.

So, in doing exactly what she suggested I was amazed at how much sex I was having at the convent. When friends of mine bragged that they were screwing some girl or, more likely, wished that they could screw any girl, I just put my tongue in my cheek and said nothing to them. While I usually did it with Cassie at least once a week I functioned as Sisters Kathleen’s and Mary Celeste’s whore a couple times a week as well. Cissy was a different matter: Except when she wasn’t having her period, we began doing it every other day. And our feelings for each other became so much more intense; each time we were together we told each other “I love you.”

When the summer started, I usually found myself lying on the moss with Kathy Warren in the Glade. That ended though when school started. Her cousin had found out about Kathie’s weakness for sex and told his friends about it. She became one of those famous promiscuous girls the boys in adjoining communities always talk about. Like bees they flocked to her petals. The summer before her senior year in high school she would get pregnant and quickly wed the college sophomore she identified as the father of the child. But I was having more sexual activity than most males could handle. Had I not been a fifteen-year-old youth with raging hormones I would never have been able to manage it. I rarely masturbated anymore; the reservoir of my hormones could only be taxed to a certain level.

From the beginning of our frivolities Mary Cecile had taken on her former identity of Cissy in a much more natural way than Sister Natalie reverted to Cassie when we had sex. With Cissy it was just more playful. She was younger and far prettier than the others at St. Bart’s. As we got more comfortable, I wondered if belonging to the order for the rest of her life was really in her long-term plans. Had I been more astute I would have seen that she was maneuvering for a practical way out. I had no idea at the time that, even though she was enjoying my sexual performance and praising the value of my confidence, she was using me for her own purposes that would be clear before the year was out.

Had I not been sexually involved with the sisters I would still have valued my job, it paid me better than mowing lawns and delivering newspapers and fit into my school schedule better. It even allowed me to be on the track team. At the same time, I was the luckiest fifteen-year-old male in the at least my surroundings. I was having sex with four adult women while most of my peers were still jacking off and fantasizing. When Sister Natalie said that I needed to pay more attention to the other nuns I said, “Does that mean spending time with Sister Agnes as well?”

“Sister Agnes has problems of her own,” she said. “She and I have a good but delicate relationship. I count on her to keep me posted on what’s going on in the convent and the preschool. I’ll tell you this much though, and if it goes any further than this room young man, I’ll cut your little testicles off.” She was smirking but I knew she was deadly serious. “You’re very important to me too Toby and need to know where the bones are buried here.” I nodded. I knew my importance and I didn’t want the greatest caper a kid could possibly to end because I was foolish. “Sister Agnes is cold to you the same way she is with all men. If you were a female, my boy, she would want you to spend your time with her the way you do with me.” With a stern look she went on, “Do you understand what I am saying Toby?” Before St. Bart’s I had never considered sex between two women in my life. Suddenly I was shocked to learn that it went on. I just couldn’t comprehend that it happened with lots of women.” When I nodded, she said, “Good boy,” patting my cheek.

This whole St. Bart’s situation was like a continuous dream: the sex I was enjoying with Sister Mary Cecile had blossomed to the point where I was able to make her climax multiple times, which made me feel special. I wished that I could have sex with only her but the only way I could have Cissy was to service the other sisters. The surprising thing was that all the sisters began catering to me like I was a prince. They were enjoying the fruits from my tree of knowledge and understood that the orgasms they were having were because of my being so involved with Mary Cecile. So, they were silent cheerleaders for my affair with her; nobody wanted to upset the applecart that carried such delicious delicacies to them.

Until Diocese Game Day Sister Natalie was sneaking down to the storage room a couple times a month to give me pleasure and receive it from me. I would sneak into the preschool and use the cot in the breakroom to have sex with the two older sisters about as often. After that day the breakroom was almost like my office. After 4:30 in the afternoon when the school staff went home, I was in there each day before 5:00 having sex with them. In the case of Mary Celeste and Kathleen it was often one after the other—it was obvious they got a thrill from that.

It was a testament to Mother Superior’s human resources skills how well she schooled this young teenager to maintain a sense of humility rather than arrogance in playing my unique role. My time was so dedicated to the four nuns that they even began doing some of the work that I had been hired for. They wanted me readily available. An older person would have picked it up, but I was too young, too naïve and steeped in this sexual paradise to realize that I had truly become the Parish whore.

The reader must wonder why, with all the unprotected sex that was going on at St. Bart’s, none of the nuns had gotten pregnant. Simply, Sister Natalie knew the ropes well. Since artificial birth control was a cardinal sin, she read as much as she could find on the Rhythm Method which required each of the sisters to be completely in touch with their bodies. Each nun had attuned themselves to know when they were ovulating. She stressed during that period that vaginal sex was strictly taboo. At the same time, she insisted that since I was the vessel of their pleasures, the sisters were duty bound to pleasure me with oral sex if I wanted it. What male, particularly a teenage boy would have turned something like that down? They seemed to love the oral gratification of having a male’s organ in their mouth as well. And they loved the fact that I was getting pleasure from their ministrations. It was all so wicked and exciting. They knew that I would eagerly reciprocate with the kind of cunnilingus I had become so good at. The interesting thing was that, where before I had been turned off by sisters Mary Celeste and Kathleen’s appearance, my familiarity with them made my sex with them beloved. Something else I didn’t understand was the fact that when a group of women live in proximity over time their menstrual cycles become synchronized.

As my fifteenth year progressed, I became subject to pressures I would never have believed. I came to the job with the simple expectation of mowing the lawn and doing some handyman work. It had been just an upgrade in my young working days which paid me three times what I made mowing lawns and delivering papers. While the Catholic Church’s religious doctrine and rituals were strange to me and the existence of a group of nuns who lived in a convent was a mystery, I quickly understood the personal needs of these women. I don’t want to give the impression that this kind of activity goes on in every church, but I’ve read too much in the news that sexual improprieties have existed in the church for ages. The flood of sexual predation that has surfaced in relation to priests and young boys and the stories of nuns being raped by priests lend credibility to my story. Though mine, I freely admit, is quite unusual.