SOFI – THE NAKED NUN free porn video

INTRODUCTION:

Now essentially naked, I stood before the bamboo gate to the nun’s compound. I wasn’t sure how long I have been here, but I was sure it was at least several hours. It wasn’t that I was being ignored. To the contrary. Upon my arrival, I rang the large bell attached to the side of the gate’s archway support. An older nun exited the building inside and spoke to me through the gate. This nun was nearly naked except for her veil, sandals on her feet, a very thin, nearly sheer, white cloth around her waist and hips, and a cross hanging between her sagging breasts. I wasn’t surprised by her near nudity, at least I knew at that moment I had arrived at my destination, the Sisters of the Order of Mary Magdalene. Yes … that Mary.

I had introduced myself as Sister Sofi, a recently trained nun from a convent in Sao Paulo. I informed the sister in front of me that I wished to join their Order. Her response was simple, “We’ll see if you are worthy.”

* * * *

This story is not intended to offend anyone’s religious sensibilities. It is rather an erotic ‘what if’ consideration of history. ‘What if’ Mary Magdalene had really been more active and involved in the early spread of the teachings? ‘What if’, as has been rumored, she and other women had been considered much more strongly in the early years than the patriarchal written record might suggest? This is then a fictional ‘what if’ look at what such an order might have been relegated to becoming over time.


CHAPTER ONE: THE ORDER OF MARY MAGDALENE

Now essentially naked, I stood before the bamboo gate to the nun’s compound. I wasn’t sure how long I have been here, but I was sure it was at least several hours. It wasn’t that I was being ignored. To the contrary. Upon my arrival I rang the large bell attached to the side of gate’s archway support. An older nun exited the building inside and spoke to me through the gate. This nun was nearly naked except for her veil, sandals on her feet, a very thin, nearly sheer, white cloth around her waist and hips, and a cross hanging between her sagging breasts. I wasn’t surprised by her near nudity, at least I knew at that moment I had arrived at my destination, the Sisters of the Order of Mary Magdalene. Yes … that Mary.

I had introduced myself as Sister Sofi, a recently trained nun from a convent in Sao Paulo. I informed the sister in front of me that I wished to join their Order. Her response was simple, “We’ll see if you are worthy.”

With that response, she turned and walked away. I didn’t know what that meant or implied. I didn’t know what might be required of me to show my worthiness. So, I did the only thing I was trained to do. I knelt in place and prayed to the Lord for his guidance and strength to be able to satisfy whatever trial might present itself in the coming moments.

It seemed awkward to be kneeling before the gate in full view of anyone from the village who might happen to wander within view. But, not as awkward as it was to become. It was late afternoon and the heat and oppressive humidity of the jungle was having its effect on me under my full habit when a sudden downpour drenched the village and me as I knelt in the open. It seemed as though water from a tarp had suddenly been opened above me. And just as suddenly it stopped. The humidity sharply increased, something I would have thought impossible only moments before. That was when the same nun returned from the structure and directed me to remove my habit so I was only adorned in my veil and cross. Less than her as she didn’t offer me even the cloth she wore around her wide hips. She assured me that I would be much more comfortable out of the soaking wet habit garments. Although that was true, I very quickly realized, my public exposure became intense despite knowing that the nun’s compound was at the far edge of the village.

With my head bent down in anxious prayer, partially to avoid noticing any villagers, I reminded myself that this was to be expected and there should not be any surprise. None the less, it gave me reflection on how I ended up in this position.

* * * *

In the final weeks of my training before achieving my goal, my dream, of serving the poor through the convent in Sao Paulo, I was increasingly disturbed and conflicted by memories and feelings, but most disturbed by the physical sensations I noticed as a result of those memories and feelings. I was not a virgin when I made my decision to enter the life of a nun. So much was my feeling of disturbance from those memories that I took my concerns to confession.

The priest was delicate in pursuing my concerns. I confessed my sexual relations with men in the past. He assured me that not all women answering the call are virginal and tried to set my mind at ease.

“It isn’t just the men, Father.” Even through the privacy of the confessional I could sense the confusion on the other side of the screen. “b********y.” After another moment of uncomfortable silence, “Dogs, Father.”

He hesitantly ventured further into the issue, “Have you continued with these … relationships since committing yourself to your training?”

“No, Father! But …”

He picked up on my issue, “But, you have memories returning to you. Desires, too?”

I uttered a hesitant, “Yes.” Then, after an intolerable silence, “I will remove myself from the convent. Thank you, Father.”

But, before I could move, “No!” He hesitated a moment before continuing. “Come see me in two days, Sister. Come to my office. I wish to … pray on this before making any judgment. You should, too.”

I was hesitant to follow-up with him after the two days. My strongest impulse was to simply quit and run away as fast as I could. But, if the priest spent two days in consideration of my issue, the least I could do was to hear him out. Then resign and leave. There seemed little recourse given the strength of the feelings I found within me.

“I am sorry to have put you through this, Father. I should have just left quietly.”

He was seated behind his desk, the door to his office carefully closed. His fingers were steeple to his lips as he considered me. I was perched on one of the visitor chairs in front of his desk. I nervously sat on the edge of the seat as if I might be asked to leave at any moment. I noticed he set a small radio near the door and turned the volume up. It was only later that it occurred to me that his intention was to insure we would not be overheard.

“Sister, you obviously understand the commitment the sisterhood represents. In recent history, it is a relationship like no other to the Lord. You would even be given a silver ring to wear as a symbol of your devotion and relationship to Him.” I nodded. “I take it from your earlier comments that you cannot assure me or yourself that you wouldn’t continue to harbor these feelings.” I shrugged, but nodded. “But, would you be able to control them from being physical?”

Tears that had been welling in my eyes finally overflowed and dripped onto my cheeks. “It doesn’t really matter if I might control the physical, Father. If I can’t control the feelings, the desires within me, isn’t it the same as coveting that which isn’t mine to have? Coveting is a sin, not just the physical acting. And, for me as a nun wouldn’t it be even worse in betrayal to the Lord?”

He considered me, separated his steepled fingers from his lips, placed his hands flat onto the top of his desk, and pushed his body to a standing position. He made his way to the window and seemed to peer into the far distance.

I spoke to his back, “I will simply resign. It will be best.”

Without turning around, as if he were speaking to something outside our presence, “You have excelled in your training, though. The Mother Superior has such plans for your energy and willingness to be with the poor and forgotten.”

“Thank you, but …”

“Sister … what if there might be an alternative?” Alternative? What alternative could there be where I could in faithful honesty still be a nun? I waited, almost too afraid to even breath.

He turned and put his hand on a filing cabinet in the corner of the office. “Do you know what is in this cabinet? Notes. Pages and files and folders and drawers of my notes. Nobody would guess that at one time I was considered a rising scholar of the ancient Church and its foundation. I was in a position that allowed me to see manuscripts that predated what we now recognize as the accepted Bible. What I found and what I presented to my superiors, however, caused me to be banished with the threat of NEVER uttering a word about what I came to believe about the earliest times. All from my research.” He was very quiet for a time. Then, “You should understand, Sister, the Church … well, let me just say that people might just disappear. There can be no conflict with the teachings.”

I considered him with increasing curiosity. I didn’t know what this had to do with my situation, but he certainly had my attention.

“Sister Sofi, what do you know about Mary Magdalene?”

I stammered, “Mary … Magdalene …?” Why was he now asking about her? “She was depicted as a whore but was consistently among the group that followed Jesus. She had a significant role in the most powerful and important events when Jesus was crucified, being there to support him in his final moments and mourning his death when the men abandoned him. she was there to discover the empty tomb and a witness to the resurrection. She was the first to preach that miracle.”

He smiled at me, “Not too surprisingly, perhaps, the figure who most embodies the imaginative and theological conflict over the place of women in ‘the church’, as it has calls itself, is Mary Magdalene.”

Father opened the top drawer and moved his fingers over the papers inside it. At that moment, he seemed to have been transported somewhere, even if in mere thought. When he spoke, it was as if he was exposing something kept in the dark to a new light, if only to me. “One of the most important Christian texts to be found outside the New Testament canon is the so-called Gospel of Mary, a telling of the Jesus-movement story that features Mary Magdalene as one of its most powerful leaders. Just as the ‘canonical’ Gospels emerged from communities that associated themselves with the ‘evangelists’, who did not actually ‘write’ the texts, this one is named for Mary not because she ‘wrote’ it, but because it emerged from a community that recognized her authority.”

He continued to explain that the question was not only about Mary Magdalene, but about women generally. It should be no surprise, given how successfully the excluding dominance of males established itself in the church of the ‘Fathers’, that the Gospel of Mary was one of the texts shunted aside in the fourth century. As that text shows, the early image of this Mary as a trusted apostle of Jesus, reflected even in the canonical Gospel texts, proved to be a major obstacle to establishing that male dominance, which is why, whatever other ‘heretical’ problems this gospel posed, that image had to be recast as one of subservience.

Simultaneously, the emphasis on sexuality as the root of all evil served to subordinate all women. Thus, the need to disempower the figure of Mary Magdalene, so that her succeeding sisters in the church would not compete with men for power, meshed with the impulse to discredit women generally. This was most efficiently done by reducing them to their sexuality, even as sexuality itself was reduced to the realm of temptation, the source of human weakness and unworthiness and the potential root of downfall for men.

Thus, Mary of Magdalene, who began as a devoted woman at Jesus’ side, became the redeemed whore and Christianity’s model of repentance, a manageable, controllable figure, and effective weapon and instrument of propaganda against her own sex. There were reasons of narrative form for which this happened. There was a harnessing of sexual restlessness to this image. The anti-sexual sexualizing of Mary Magdalene was the male need to dominate women. In the Catholic Church, as elsewhere, that need is still being met.

He turned back to me while remaining standing before a large map of Brazil. He also seemed to be struggling with his own mind, perhaps to bring everything to some contextual relation to our condition today. He finally retook his seat behind the desk and, again, steepled his fingers to his lips while considering his next words.

“Sister, it is not my intention to suggest or encourage the random violation of Church doctrine or rules that would govern our roles and duties. But …” He regarded me intently. “For centuries after, His teachings were pushed out by his followers, but contrary to what we are told through the Bible the most aggressive of these was Mary Magdalene. Her followers reacted with the same unflinching devotion and energy that Mary displayed. They spread quickly and widely without consideration or concern for what might be happening in any formation of an organized movement. These women … and men … spread their effect through unconditional service, caring, and love to the widely divergent peoples they came into contact with. And, along the way, that kind of uncompromising, unconditional caring and service to ordinary people attracted others into that service.”

“Are you suggesting they did so without any guilt and stigma of sexuality?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Of course. They were the followers of Mary Magdalene. In all my research, there is nothing that leads me to believe she ever stopped being a sexual person. To the contrary, there is much depicted about them where the use of sex, the freely rejoicing of the body with the soul, crossed barriers that mere teaching and preaching failed.”

Still unsure what this all had to do with my situation, I kept the line of thought continuing. “What happened to them? There is no remnant of them?”

He smiled. “Actually, there is.”

He let me work this out. When the light went on in my mind, it made sense. “Us … the various Orders of Nuns. How …?”

“The same way the organization handled all such situations. They incorporated existing practices they encountered into doctrine and the organization while establishing strict control over them. They merely pushed the Magdalenes into submission and under control.”

I shook my head. “So, if they no longer exist, except for the history lesson buried in restricted archives, what relevance does this have for me now?”

At first, I thought he was ignoring me. Finally, he continued with a smile. “The Magdalenes were every bit as determined and committed as their name-sake. As the ‘civilized world’ pushed them into subjugation or pushed them out entirely, they continued to seek new regions to provide their service, care, and devotion. Eventually, they ran out of land but these were resourceful women who were willing to endure anything to fulfill the mission as was handed down over time to them. Some took passage on the sailing ships of explorers and traders as new worlds were opened. These women, for the most part, were subjected to extreme sexual abuse and humiliation. Upon reaching these new lands, few survived the ordeal and most of those who did were kept as slaves for the crew. But, the very few who did survive and were rewarded with freedom did continue to spread their mission. They did whatever they needed to do wherever they went or whatever they encountered. Where the Church conquered people, the Magdalenes melded into the very people who needed them.”

“But, as you said, Father, eventually, the Church took over.”

He smiled, again. I was now recognizing that this smile was an indicator of something significant about to be revealed and I waited anxiously. “When it was clear I was about to be banished because of my beliefs, I manipulated the discussion of ‘where’ to be Brazil.” He put his hand over the map covering the region of the Northern Amazon basin, one of the most remote regions of the world. “It occurred to me that a region of strong Catholic practice and significant remote regions just might …”

“Might what?”

He placed his index finger on the Amazon River and traced it upstream, then up a tributary before making a small circle with his finger. I stood and moved alongside him to gaze at the map and the region his finger was circling. He looked from his finger on the map down to my upturned eyes. “All the information I have found from conversation, research, and study leads me to this region on this tributary of the Amazon. But, Sister, understand that it is all based on hearsay, rumor, speculation, and legend.”

I smiled as I leaned into the map on the wall to put the location to memory. I understood instantly what I was going to do without the need for additional thought, investigation, or consideration. That was where I was going to somehow go. In that area stood the best possibility for me to care for people the way I always wanted to while no longer having to run away from desires of my body. I felt I would always be in turmoil and conflict, otherwise. It would be a risk … a big risk … but what an adventure, too.

I sense a change in time I had been staring at the little spot on the map. The priest is now watching me. I look up at him embarrassed. He puts his arm out and I step into him without thinking. He hugs me and I hug him. The intimacy feels so good, so reassuring, so encouraging, and so welcoming. My heart is beating furiously with the excitement of potential. I find myself pulling into his bony body. The sensations surging through me are surprising. How quickly and urgently they have sprung up within me. Suppressed for so long, they were apparently only pushed down just below the surface, denied but not removed.

I hear him softly suggest I give my thoughts time … time to consider what it would mean. I am shaking my head as I step back from him. I am also blushing profusely, though only the exposure of my face can possibly reflect it from under the formal habit and head coverings of this order.

“Don’t you see?”, I confide. “That outpost of the Magdalenes would be my ideal situation for the full person I am. A way to serve in the order while releasing my desires that are ready to burst from me. I have such a strong desire to serve, but the desires I feel are also very strong. To deny one for the other is to deny a part of me. You said the Magdalenes used all their being in whatever way needed to assist, help, and encourage the people they served. They didn’t deny the sexual side of their being but instead recognized those desires in themselves and those they served as a way to better serve them.” My eyes returned to the map and that tiny spot indicated on the tributary. “I have always believed deep down there must be a reason why I have these strong feelings inside me … both of them … for serve and giving pleasure.” I look up at him. His eyes and face are soft and gentle. “How can what I naturally am be wrong? I was made this way. I didn’t go out to become it. These sides of me have always been strong within me. How can only one be good?”

He finally asked the question she was preparing for. “You’ve already decided?”

I smiled and hugged him, again. “Don’t you see? I was destined to be a Magdalene. If they are there, I have to find them.”

I pulled my body into his and it felt so good. Then … I felt his reaction to my hug. I felt a growing hardness of his loins against my stomach. Even through all the thick, stiff fabric of our traditional garments, his physical reaction was clear. I stepped back embarrassed. My exuberance was natural but wrong to have apparently become a temptation. Now, I could look up at him. My lips moved in panic but no sounds came out.

He sighed and pulled me softly back into his arms. He didn’t press into me or pull me into him. He merely held me softly and comfortingly. He explained by taking it onto himself. He explained the turmoil and conflict that has been within him, too. Perhaps, he said, we were destined to meet. Although he had meekly accepted his banishment, he couldn’t reject all he had learned and discovered. That was why he had secretly retained his research. He lifted my chin to look into my eyes as he confessed his lack of strength of conviction that I had confessed to him to start all this. Meeting me, listening to my sharing, seeing how strongly I held onto both sides of my being, had given him the strength to look at himself with new understanding. If he believed in what he had learned, why wasn’t her prepared to pursue it regardless of the effect on himself? If he believed in what he now knew of the mission of the Magdalenes, why was he rejecting the same about himself? If I, someone starting out, had the courage to venture out into an unknown to achieve fulfillment, why couldn’t he?

I asked what conclusion he apparently had reached.

“I can’t continue from within in the Church.” He gave a deep sigh but a soft smile also formed on his mouth. “I have the research I need. I am going to leave. Like you, I need to be honest to myself … and to others. I need to find a way to release my findings but in a positive way. It may lead to nothing. Others have tried, I suppose, but I have to try.”

I pressed into him and hugged him, again. Without releasing him, I asked if he was sincere about leaving. He responded unequivocally the he was … thanks to this discussion, he needed to. I smiled, though to myself. I pressed against him, my body against his. My decision made, it felt freeing, that I didn’t need to pretend my feeling, my need. I didn’t want to be the temptress, though, to tempt someone into something that might be regretted by them later. I felt his body respond to me, though. I pressed myself tighter into him. His arms held me tighter and I sighed. His hands moved down over my habit down my back and I sighed more. His hands pulled me into him, his body pressing out against me and I moaned. Then, held tightly … he moaned. His cock was very hard and pressed urgently into my abdomen. He was 5 or 6 inches taller than me. My cheek was pressed into his shoulder. One of his hands held my shoulders and the other my lower back, his pelvis pressed out against me.

I turned my head and looked up into his face. His was turned down looking into mine. This felt good … right … real. This was what I wanted. To serve but also to feel, to give, to receive, and to share the beautiful wonders that our bodies were meant for despite what others tried to deny, as the priest said, to control us.

As I looked into his soft gaze, his words electrified me. “I don’t want to tempt you into something you aren’t committed to allowing, Sister. If we are both sincere about our futures, I think we are both at the same cross-roads for our futures, taking us in different directions, perhaps, but …”

I reached up onto my toes and kissed him on the lips and stopped his words. I slipped a hand from his back, around his hip, and, tentatively, over his crotch. He gasped at my touch as my hand found his hard cock under his black slacks. I rubbed up and down and he moaned, his cock twitching and jerking under my touch. It has been such a long time for me, I was nervous and unsure.

Then, I heard him gasp the next words, “It has been a long time since I have felt this. If you are sure … I very much am, too.”

I face pressed into his shoulder as I gasped, my response sounded muffled but urgent. “It has been a long time for me, too, Father. Thank you for showing me that an alternative may exist so I can continue to serve while releasing myself to my body.”

I breathed deeply before sliding down his body to my knees. I looked up along his body. He was nervously watching me. I was nervously looking up at him for some confirmation. He nodded. My hands shook and my fingers felt numb as I began working his belt, opening it, then opening his slacks and lowering the zipper. I opened his slacks further, a hand now covering his hard cock through the covering of his white boxer shorts. His breathing was through gasps. My own breath came through panting. There was no doubt we were both hungering for the same action.

Despite the locked door and the radio next to the door, our time and action was limited. I had already made up my mind this would be for him, my gratitude, my expression of thanks for his guidance.

I pulled the waist of his shorts down, the action causing his slacks to fall to his knees as I lowered his shorts and exposing his rigid cock. It was merely an average cock, I was sure, but at the moment it appeared to me as a miracle creation, a reaffirming symbol of how a man and a woman were intended to join, to share, and to rejoice in life. I yearned to feel that joining completely. I yearned to feel it inside me as it was intended. I knew this wasn’t the time, certainly not the place. I could please him, though. I could bring him his pleasure and I was aware it likely would not take much but I was glad I could be the one.

It was still difficult to overcome the trappings. His office with the crosses and the pictures. His clerical garments and collar. My habit and veil covering. The cross hanging from his neck and around my waist. But the decision had been made … by both of us.

I brought my lips to his cock head. I sighed as my lips touched the head. My lips kissed it and opened. After a moment’s hesitation, my lips parted further and moved over the head so it was just inside. I groaned. I felt my pussy flood and I shivered. I heard him gasp and moan above me, his hips jerked slightly, his cock pushed a few inches deeper into my mouth. I pulled my mouth up to the head, giving it another kiss, then pressed my mouth over its length and taking it to the back of my mouth. My body shook and my breath caught in my throat. I was orgasming! Merely with the cock in my mouth I was orgasming. I moved my mouth over the rigid cock. I sucked and swirled my tongue over it. He was gasping, moaning, and groaning above me. I felt his hand on my veil covered head. He applied gentle, reassuring pressure. I sucked harder, my mouth moving urgently over his cock. I moved one hand between his legs, cupping his ball sack and massaging them. It was a rush of sensation and remembrance. My mind was flooded with memories of before, of how I had pleased others.

I felt his cock pulse and stiffen in my mouth. His hand on my head became more controlling. I then felt it, the rigidness, the pulsing, the straining. His cock jerked in my mouth. A stream of cum shot out into my mouth, splashing off the back of my mouth. My mouth became flooded. So much. It had been so long for him. I gulped his cum down my throat as another spurt replaced what I gulped.

There were 3 or 4 spurts. I was unsure. It seemed overwhelming to experience. His cock jerked but it was only leaking sperm now. I sucked vigorously to empty his cock. It was as if I couldn’t get enough of it. I sucked and sucked and licked and licked. I stopped only as I felt it softening.

I looked up, finally. Still nervous that it was the right thing to do. He pulled me up and into his arms, his slacks hanging at his knees.

“Thank you, Sister. I know for sure what I need to do. I hope you are sure, too.”

I squeezed into him. “THANK YOU, Father! I just know my service will be complete now.” I just knew I would somehow find the Magdalenes.

* * * Chapter Two will follow * * * Thanks for reading