Friday nights
- 1 year ago
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With a sigh, Sister Serenity closed the last jotter and leaned back in her chair. For some reason this had seemed a long week and she was tired. She stretched her arms above her head and pushed her shoulders back, easing the cramped muscles of her back. Her glance dropped and she noticed the outline of the large, firm globes of her breasts thrusting against her habit.
'Just as well I didn't do this in class, ' she thought with wry amusement.
She glanced at the clock on the classroom wall and pushed herself upright. It was time she was going. Tonight was Friday night and Friday nights were special. She felt a little frisson of excitement as she contemplated the evening ahead and her tiredness was forgotten. With a final look round, she switched off the lights, pulled the classroom door firmly shut and strode off down the corridor.
In her room, she dutifully crossed herself and curtseyed before the small icon on her dresser before removing her simple, black habit and hanging it carefully in the closet. After removing her flat-heeled shoes and socks, she reached behind her and unfastened the plain, white, heavy-duty bra that always contained her breasts during the week. With a sigh of relief she pulled it free and tossed it at the laundry basket. She disliked having to wear that bra. The heavy elasticated fabric constricted and immobilised her breasts. It wasn't that she needed a heavy-duty bra, for her breasts, thanks to the blessing of nature and regular work-outs in the gym, still stood high and proud despite their size. It was Mother Felicity who had gently suggested that such bounteousness, although a glorious gift of God with which she should be rightly pleased, should be minimised in class to reduce the likelihood of distracting the pupils from their lessons.
Crossing to the mirror, she admired herself as she massaged her breasts, twisting from side to side as she ran her hands over the smooth skin. Her breasts always felt more sensitive immediately after removing her day-time bra. The feeling of freedom and the cool air flowing round them made her acutely aware of their presence.
Sister Serenity loved her breasts. She loved their weight. She loved her large, dark areolae. She loved her jutting nipples that would swell and stiffen with the slightest provocation. She loved the effect they had on people when they realised what lay hidden under the plain, black habit.
Smiling serenely, she removed her plain, white, cotton knickers, unfastened the ribbon that kept her long, dark tresses in place and stepped into the shower. For a moment she contemplated whether she should indulge herself then decided, it being Friday, that she should abstain. Her ablutions were thorough. She hummed quietly as she shampooed her hair and poured scented shower gel into her palm before spreading the slick liquid generously over her sleek body. She washed herself thoroughly, her hands caressing every inch of her skin that she could reach. She paid particular attention to her breasts, crotch, armpits and feet, her hands lingering just long enough to set herself on the beginning of the path to arousal, but no more. She wanted to save herself for later.
Stepping from the shower, she dried herself equally carefully. The large, fluffy towel felt deliciously soft against her skin and she found herself humming again. Tonight would be special; she had a good feeling about it.
From the back of her underwear drawer she removed the bottle of aromatic oil. There was no real reason to hide it but it saved any awkward questions from the other Sisters. She poured a generous measure onto her palm and inhaled the tart, musky aroma. Slowly and deliberately, she worked the scented oil into her skin. Her eyes closed and a gentle smile spread across her face as she surrendered to the pleasurable sensation of the oily liquid entering her pores. Her skin began to tingle and her nipples started to swell. A small ball of heat began to gather deep inside her loins and she subconsciously squeezed her thighs together rhythmically. With a gusted sigh she brought herself back to the present, recapped the bottle and stowed it back in the drawer.
She dressed carefully. Tonight she would wear one of her favourite outfits which comprised entirely of supple leather straps connected with brass rings. She untangled it and stepped carefully into it, pulling it slowly up her shapely legs. With her knees spread, she squatted to adjust the thin straps that passed between her legs and make sure they were comfortably seated on either side of her labia and correctly positioned between the cheeks of her bottom. She pulled it tight, enjoying the feel of the thin leather pressing against her nether lips and anus. She inserted one arm into the upper part and pulled the shoulder strap up until it was at the top of her arm. With practiced dexterity, she slipped one breast into place and pulled the shoulder strap up the rest of the way, then repeated the process with the other side. Straightening, she carefully adjusted her breasts so they sat comfortably inside their straps which were designed to restrict and lift her breasts making them look like gleaming, pink-capped mountains.
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Permission is granted to post to the TG-fiction list, archive, and Fictionmania site and to the atEROS site. Personal copies for non-commercial use permitted. Anyone else who wants to archive this on a free access website or ftp site, just send me an email telling me that you did so and the url or ftp address. Anyone who wants to archive this on a for-pay site, don't. Member Net Authors and Creators Union - NACU. Authors and creators welcome, email [email protected] for more...
Permission is granted to post to the TG-fiction list, archive, and Fictionmania site and to the atEROS site. Personal copies for non-commercial use permitted. Anyone else who wants to archive this on a free access website or ftp site, just send me an email telling me that you did so and the url or ftp address. Anyone who wants to archive this on a for-pay site, don't. Member Net Authors and Creators Union - NACU. Authors and creators welcome, email [email protected] for more...
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If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century. Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is...
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