The Corridor of Angels

Sister snuggled back into her comfortable if strange bed. It was her third week in northern Italy, a long, long way from Zhonga, in Eastern africa The air in Africa was different from Italy, she did not know why. But there seemed more freedom. The air seemed more "relaxed".

But she could not sleep. She need to pray more for the wonderful sisters who had given her temporary accommodation in her travels. She was visiting many convents, gathering material for writing a history of her Order, and by now she was just over half-way through it. The Order has begun almost on a prayer of their beloved Founder, and now it was a movement which was widespread. Yes, they were relatively small in numbers and some Sisters of the Order were living with nuns of other Orders. But they were strong and useful and highly regarded for their enthusiasm, learning and good works.

So Sister listened to the silence of the convent before slowly rising from her bed. The weather was hot -- a blistering wind had come from the south all day -- and she had on the lightest of clothes. She had discarded her pants and bra when she went to bed, so over her night dress she pulled a light cloak. The cloak was a light silky material which more the marks of the Mother House. It felt wonderful.

The wind had softened and the moon showed a soft light down the corridor towards the chapel. Sister entered and knelt at the altar rail to pray. An hour passed as she asked God to look after all the nuns she had met, and thanked Him for life itself.

Barefoot, Sister quietly passed back along the corridor towards her room, the finest guest room she had seen in any convent during her studies. Briefly she walked along an open cloister full of the new moonlight and then turned right into a short hallway which was lined with fine statues of angels.

Sister stopped before the largest of these, knelt in prayer, then stood back against the opposite wall in deep contemplation of the inner life.

Silently a figure came from her right. In the soft semi-darkness Sister could hardly make out who it was, but the figure raised a hand in the sign of silence. For a moment they listened to each other's breathing, soft as it was on the night air. They moved slightly towards each other until their robes touched.

The figure held out a hand and stroked Sister's cheek. Then it ran down across her shoulders and across her chest, caressing the bare breasts beneath the light night dress and soft cloak.

Sister's body tightened and then relaxed as the hand went down over her stomach and down her legs, firstly the outside and then the inside. Sister startled as a bird shook its feathers in the trees outside, but the then hand was sliding up under her cloak, pushing way the folds and caressing the inside of her legs.

The hand went higher until it almost touched the pubic hair. But then it moved to the outside of her body, avoiding the hair in a tantalising fashion. It did not return to the pubic region until the hand -- now joined by the other one -- squeezed her breasts and nipples beneath her cloak.

Sister sighed and lent backwards over a small table. Her bare feet felt the cool stone floor as she spread her legs and the two hands joined together to caress her pubic area. Their fingers curled about her curly hair down there, then squeezed and stroked her clitoris until she was wet with joy.

The fingers entered her vagina and probed and probed until Sister felt so wonderful. She raised her legs and spread them wide as the figure approached closer. The fingers were removed, buy Sister's clitoris felt two warm lips kiss and caress and suck upon her vagina until the world exploded in a burst of excitement.

Without a word the figure withdrew. The hem of Sister's cloak was again back at her feet, and when the figure disappeared, Sister returned to the guest room. The stone figure of a saint was beside her door and Sister whispered to it a prayer of gratitude before sleeping as if on a cloud send from heaven.