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"Why not? What they don't know won't hurt them," she'd retorted, accepting my money and urging me on. Twenty sous. That had been her price. Two shiny coins slipped into the palm of her hand at the top of the hill.At first I'd accepted her pecuniary reasoning at face value. I'd assumed that as a nun without a regular income she was doing it for the money, but then one day I'd grasped that she got a strange kick from pandering to my voyeurism. She was a nun denied the pleasures of the flesh, and illicit complicity with me gave her an odd perverted thrill. So, each time I came up from the lake she'd be waiting for me at the top of the hill. She'd take hold of my hand and lead me between the trees and we'd sit together on the grass, and she'd ask me to describe what I'd seen. They'd be questions about which nuns I liked best. She'd ask me to describe their tits, their pussies, their asses; the shapes and sizes I liked best; and then she'd ask me shyly whether I'd committed a sin - and how. . . . Now I’m just sitting here twiddling my thumbs having already exhausted my dick. She said she would tell me everything, but my imagination has already overwhelmed me.This evening we met for an early dinner after work. We went through the usual small talk, but she seemed nervous, so I asked her to spill it. What was bothering her?“Remember how we talked about seeing other people?” she asked. Immediately I knew what she meant. For years it had been my fantasy to see her seduced by another man while I watched. She would listen and admit that the idea aroused her, but never expressed any interest in actually doing it. Once, when I pressed her, she said she would think about it, and if she ever met the right man, she would remember that she could ask me. But that was years ago. Now her gaze dropped to the table as she fidgeted with her food. I could feel my pants get tight as my dick filled with blood. “Well, I think I’d like to do that now.” She looked up at me, trying to read my.
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