Sinful Texts

She crept along the cold, stone passageway, feeling like she was 12 again. Since coming back to the convent, she felt like she had as a child under the gaze of the nuns. She didn't have to creep through the halls, she was a teacher (training to be one at least), and heading to the library even late at night wouldn't be frowned upon. It was her guilty conscious that made he feel so young.

A wave of relief washed over her as she closed the door to the library, leaning against it, her heart already beating faster. She pulled out a small torch to shine into the room. Ahead of her the rows of books calmed her, ever since she was little she loved books, they didn't make her nervous and anxious like people.

With less trepidation, she stepped between the rows. She felt the books closing in on both sides, a shell of imaginary worlds between her and reality.

At the far end of the small library was the door to the store room, she pulled out a small keyring and selected the one she needed.

Boxes filled the store room, she had to carefully pick her way around them to the opening in the floor. Darkness revealed only the top three stairs before swallowing the rest that curved round beneath her. Her small torch inadequate, barely piercing the blackness, shone down the stairway.

Her footsteps echoed loudly into the small storeroom as she began her descent, her free hand reached out to touch the rough stone beside her. At the bottom of the stairs, she found the old light-switch, metal hanging on stone, it was as out of place as she felt. The light flickered into life, revealing a room even smaller than the one above, furnished with a cupboard, a small table and wooden chair.

The cupboard was plain, no detail to hint at what it contained, just a keyhole. She retrieved the heavy iron key from her pocket, slipped it inside and twisted. She winced as the lock pulled back with a click. The doors creaked open, revealing the set of books, the couple she had read were the only ones without a thick layer of dust covering them.

She selected a large brown leather book, carefully placing it down on the table. Wiping the dust away revealed nothing but a blank leather cover. She settled down into the chair as she pulled open the heavy cover.

The first page was covered in scratchy writing, her fingertips trailed over the page, the introduction excited her with talk of forbidden fruits and sins of the flesh. The aged paper crackled as she turned the page.

An ink sketch of a man's erect member covered half the page, a foot in length. Beside the drawing were notes naming the different parts and describing them in detail. Her hand slipped under her skirt as she wondered what David, the baker's son would look like. She had never seen a man naked, other than in the books she had discovered.

Her fingers gently pushed against thin cotton panties. Remembering the words of the first book; she slowly stoked the fire within her, taking her time. She imagined David before her, his bulbous head bobbing before her.

She turned the page, across the top it read “Fellatio” in curling script. Beneath it, a sketch of the act. The side of a man sliding between a woman's open lips. Of all the acts she had read about, the idea of kneeling before a man and taking him into her mouth excited her the most.

Her fingers moved from the damp material, to delve beneath. Her flesh was hot as her fingertips pushed around her pulsating bud. She trembled at her own touch. The words on the aged paper blurred as she felt his hands on her face holding her as he pushed his head between her lips.

Her lips opened, the imaginary phallus pushed inside. Slipping amongst wet flesh, her fingers moved faster, her restraint lost. Heat spread up her thighs as the taste of him filled her mouth. As her breathing got heavier, she felt the confidence to talk to him, to let him know how she felt, to offer herself to him. As fantasy and reality merged the room filled with the smell of flour and sweat.

Her body throbbed beneath her fingers. Knowing she was sinning in a convent pushed her pulse even harder. Her tongue slipped out to wet her stretched lips, her breath escaped hot and dry into the small stone room.

She moaned as she felt the rapid approach of orgasm. Her fingers moved incredibly fast. Her moans turned to cries as she felt herself losing control.

Her shoulders pressed into the back of the wooden chair as she called out the lord's name, her body exploding in ecstasy. She slid down from the chair to land on the cold, stone floor, her body limp. As she lay panting she felt the orgasm drain from her, taking the confidence to talk to David with it.

Word Count 851