Winter's Sisterhood: A Tale of Divine Love

EmpressJosephine

Mistress of Role-Plays
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Featuring:

Gwanji16 as Gary Foster, an 18 year old high school Senior.
EmpressJosephine as Sister Mary Josephine Cortesogno, a 24 year old high school English teacher.​


It is love alone that gives worth to all things.


 

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Chapter One: The Winter of Our Discontent

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“‘Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio...’” Sister Mary Josephine quoted, then paused to address her Honors English 12 class. “Most people get that wrong. They say: ‘I knew him well.’ If you want to show you’re literate, don’t do that. Now, where was I?”

She had brought her class, together with a cheap Halloween decoration skull, outside to teach the most famous part of Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 1. She thought the cool weather — albeit unusually warm for February in these parts — brought the scene, about death, more alive.

“Oh, yes, let me start over. ‘Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. He hath borne me on his back a thousand times, and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rims at it.’ That last bit means it makes him sick to his stomach,” she explained. Then, gently caressing the skull’s mandible, just below its teeth, she continued. “‘Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft.’”

She again paused and held the skull out suspended nearly face to face with her best and favorite student, Gary Foster. “What does Hamlet mean here, Gary? Would he still want to kiss these lips? Would you?”


 

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I would want to kiss your lips, Gary thought, before shaking shaking away that sinful, mental picture.

"I, uh," Gary stammered, trying not to stare into Sister Mary's gorgeous brown eyes. "I would not, Sister, not a skeleton's, anyway. And I think the kissing was platonic, not romantic. Yorick was the jester when Hamlet was a little boy, and I think, um, Hamlet is not revolted over the fact that this Yorick is not the Yorick he played with and loved as a child. I think he is revolted by death, which is what Yorick's skull represents to him.

Gary said this in a rush, hoping his answer would please Sister Mary, which is why he studied Shakespeare so much, why he always had the answer in class. To please her, for her to think he was smart and thoughtful. He allowed his eyes to take in her smile before rapidly scanning her white habit, the curve of her breasts encased but obvious.
 
Thou Knowest, Winter Tames Man, Woman, and Beast.




“Hamlet is not revolted over the fact that this Yorick is not the Yorick he played with and loved as a child,” Gary suggests with the slight waiver in his voice that reveals he lacks full confidence in his answer. Sister Mary Josephine finds it endearing. “I think he is revolted by death, which is what Yorick’s skull represents to him.”

“Excellent, Gary!” She smiles at him with sincere appreciation of his intelligence and his passion for Shakespeare. “People die all over Shakespeare’s plays, but in Hamlet the Bard explores death far more deeply and fully than anywhere else. This scene also shows another ambiguity in Hamlet’s thinking. He is both repelled by death, and obsessed with it. Can anyone give me an example from what we’ve read already showing Hamlet’s obsession with death... anyone besides Gary.”

She continued teaching but, as always happened when discussing Shakespeare, the hour went by faster than she realized. When the bell rang, she held up her hand and, in teacher command voice, said: “Wait! Don’t forget that your proposed thesis statements for next month’s essays are due on Friday. If you want to discuss your ideas for one with me, I’ll hold my after school office hours right here today. It’s too nice out to be inside any more than necessary. Now, everyone, get to your next class.”


 
Let not thy mother lose her prayers

When the bell rang, she held up her hand and, in teacher command voice, said: “Wait! Don’t forget that your proposed thesis statements for next month’s essays are due on Friday. If you want to discuss your ideas for one with me, I’ll hold my after school office hours right here today. It’s too nice out to be inside any more than necessary. Now, everyone, get to your next class."

Gary picked up his backpack and thought about his thesis, which would be about Hamlet's complicated relationship with his mother. Gary's own relationship with his mom was not so complicated, he thought. After all, she taught him how to read at a very early age, every night reading to him whatever she was reading at the time. Shakespeare, Spillane, Jong, whatever was around the house. Sometimes the stories were a bit too romantic and mushy, but he didn't care. And not that he had much choice; his father was out of town more than he was home, so his mother raised him mostly on his own. She taught him the power of words, the richness of the imagination. Sister Mary reinforced that power; Gary could hear it in her lovely voice as she was declaiming Shakespeare. She could read a phone book, and Gary would have been pleased. More than.

Gary broke the reverie and walked to his next class, but stopped by to let Sister Mary know he would come back for office hours later. Yes, she said, maybe a bit too quickly, her eyes focusing on him at last. "Excellent," she said, "see you at three, right here under the tree." She touched him on the shoulder as he was leaving, causing a jolt of electricity to go from his shoulder to his toes and back again, with a detour to his new erection, sudden and sharp.
 
Noble Reflex



Sister Mary Josephine recognized it right away. The moment she touched Gary’s shoulder, he hesitated, almost seeming to lose his balance. An instant later, she saw him shift the backpack dangling from his hand to a new position that would obstruct anyone’s view of the front of the cotton khaki pants mandated by the school’s dress code. He then walked away without another glance in her direction, his gait slightly different than usual.

She felt herself blushing. Her mind could not resist forming an image of how the erection she had inspired must have created a vertical tent out of his pleated slacks. She had seen such a thing once, many years before, just prior to her first and only boyfriend cajoling her into giving him oral sex. That had not ended well. When he announced his imminent orgasm, she pulled back and, instead of a mouthful, ended up with an eyeful, of semen. She smiled guiltily about that now, but back then had found it so disgusting that she made him take her home and refused to see him again for several weeks.

“My cherry lips have often kiss’d thy stones,” she softly quoted A Midsummer Night’s Dream with a giggle, although it did not apply to her. Then she thought of another quote from that play that did often relate to her after such memories and thoughts, the line in which Helena will “make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.” Most people did not understand that quote, because they did not know that Elizabethans used “to die” as slang for orgasm.

She said a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for guiding her decision to remain outside this afternoon. Had she gone back to her small private office in the school, she might have found herself unable to resist the urges currently burning in her loins. To distract herself, she paged ahead in the book in her lap to the later part of the scene, Ophelia’s burial. She hoped this most depressing part of Hamlet would shake her from her sinful mood.

 
There is nothing either good nor bad

Once her reached the school, Gary turned and watched Gary as Sister Mary sat under the tree with her book, carefully arranging her habit as she did so. Gary thought, no was sure of it, that he saw a glimpse of something pink, perhaps her panties, as she leaned against the tree. His erection throbbed against his pants.

Although he was still a virgin, Gary had many a make out session with Kim, his on and off again girl friend. She was sweet and smart, but preparing to go to university in England next year, while Gary was going to Georgetown. Their make out sessions increased in intensity as the time of their parting drew nearer, and the night before last, she had taken his cock in her mouth for the first time, with Gary cumming soon after. She hinted this morning that she expected him to return the favor soon.

But Gary's thoughts kept returning to Sister Mary, whom he watched in great rapture while in chemistry class. He could see her round breasts rise with her breathing, and imagined what the bra under her habit might look like, wondering how many layers of fabric there were between her breasts and the sky right now. He asked her once in class, when they were discussing "A Midsummer Night's Dream" what nuns wore when they went swimming. She smiled and said "Just what everyone else wears," which also fed into his fantasies. He had just begun to mentally undress her when the bell rang to end class.
 
Preliminary Formalities



Sister Mary Josephine heard the dismissal bell. She decided sitting under a tree, leaning her back against the trunk, did not present the proper formality for office hours. She got up off the ground, not the most graceful feat in her full length habit, and moved over to the sill of a granite staircase leading down from the school.

She knew only Gary would take up her offer to visit her office hours. The kids who least needed help always sought it out, while those who might fail a class avoided confronting that fact to gain the assistance they needed. Technically, she did not even have to hold after school office hours. It occurred to her that only the fact that she knew Gary would attend motivated her not canceling them on this unseasonably warm day. While she appreciated the way he contributed in class, she found during their private conversation she got a true sense of the depth of not just his intellect, but also his poetic soul.

 
Give every man thine ear

As Gary made his way to office hours, he composed his thoughts, trying to frame what he might say to Sister Mary Josephine. There was a jumble of emotions in his heart, his souls, his loins.

He hoped above all that she would read to him in that sexy voice of hers. When she declaimed Shakespeare, and it didn't matter which play, the music of the bard came through in such a beautiful way, his heart soared. And when, as she did from time to time, she fastened her eyes upon his as she read a specific passage, his heart almost stopped, the flow of his blood coursing down to his cock, making it hard, strong, erect.

Gary recorded her once in class with his iPad just to capture her joy and make it his own. When he went home, he went straight to his room and locked the door. Stepping out of his jeans, he jumped on his bed and opened his iPad, replaying her long soliloquy, her voice filling his room. He pulled out his cock, hard at once, and began to stroke it, slowly at first, but, as he was carried away by her poetry, he moved his hand faster and faster, imagining Sister's hand there while she was reciting. As she came to the end of her passage, he came as well, ribbons of cum landing on his legs, his feet, his chest. It was bigger than any orgasm he ever had, and it took him some minutes (and his own sister pounding on his door) to get moving again.

That memory was fastened in his head, in both heads, as he knocked on Sister Mary Josephine's door.
 
Out of Character Post

Wow great advice and thanks


I'm assuming you somehow managed to post to the wrong thread, in which case an edit with an apology would have been appropriate.

In case you did this on purpose, I would think this is obvious from the title post that this is a closed thread for Gwanji16 and me. Please respect other people's work. Thank you.

 
Better Late than Never

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Sister Mary Josephine glanced with concern at the steeple on the old Catholic church connected to the high school. According to its clock, seven minutes had passed since the dismissal bell and Gary had not shown up. She knew she had heard him correctly when he said he would see her “at three, right here under the tree.” She worried he had looked from a distance after she’d moved and not seen her here on the nearby steps. Of course, he might have simply gone to her office out of habit, forgetting that she had decided to stay outside, but if she went looking for him, then they might miss each other if he came looking for her here.

Then she realized that the thought of not connecting with Gary this afternoon bothered her more than it should. He really did not need the extra help. She just really wanted to spend time with him. For the first time, it occurred to her that she had started to develop feelings for him beyond a merely educational relationship. She began to search her soul. Did she simply think of Gary as a friend as well as a student, or had it become something more, something inappropriate, something dangerous?




 

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The time is out of joint

When Gary, in an full-on daze, turned the knob of the Sister Mary's office door and it did not budge, Gary was momentarily confused. Sister Mary was never late for anything, but then he realized she was likely still outside, waiting for him as agreed under the tree. He felt a twinge of disappointment, as a place so public would make it unlikely he would confess his strong feelings for her, but that was less important than making sure he did not miss her. He rushed to the campus lawn.

She was still there, under the tree, glancing at the clock when she saw him come out of the school. Gary was heartened by her enthusiastic wave, and her big smile, which bore no sense of impatience with his delay. As he drew near, She rose to greet him, but lost her footing and slipped on a leaf, landing on the ground. "Fuck!," she said without thinking. He ran to her and extended a hand, which she took, blushing and pulled herself up.
 
Old Habits



Sister Mary Josephine realized that the thought of not connecting with her student Gary Foster this afternoon bothered her more than it should. He really did not need the extra help. She just really wanted to spend time with him. For the first time, it occurred to her that she had started to develop feelings for him beyond a merely educational relationship. She began to search her soul. Did she simply think of Gary as a friend as well as a student, or had it become something more, something inappropriate, something dangerous?


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She glanced again at the steeple on the old Catholic church connected to the high school. According to its clock, almost ten minutes had passed since the dismissal bell. She knew she had heard Gary correctly when he said he would see her “at three, right here under the tree.” She worried he had looked from a distance after she’d moved and not seen her here on the nearby steps. That being so, and recognizing it as a desperate act even as she did it, she moved back to her original spot under the tree.

She smiled with relief and waved when, a moment later, she saw Gary emerge from the school. Feeling giddy at his appearance, she rose hurriedly to greet him. Between the tangle of her long habit and the slippery leaves on the ground, she slipped and landed ingloriously back on her butt.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed from her own old high school vocabulary, still lingering just beneath the surface. She immediately glanced around guiltily. If old Monsignor Schaefer heard, he’d have her in his office for a formal reprimand. For good or ill, only Gary might have heard her.

He ran to her and extended a hand. Blushing, she accepted it and pulled herself up so that he would not have to exert his back. In truth, she weighed barely over a hundred pounds, but she did not want him treating her like one of the fragile ancient nuns who populated most of the school’s classrooms.

“Thank you, Gary,” she said as she brushed the half-rotted leaves from her derriere. “You’re always such a gentleman. That was sweet of you!”

She stretched up and, instinctively, gave him a quick kiss on his left cheek.


 
Love or lust?

"Thank you, Gary," Sister Mary Josephine said as she brushed the half-rotted leaves from her derrière. "You are always such a gentleman. That was sweet of you."

She stretched up and, instinctively, gave him a quick kiss on his left cheek. As she did so, her breasts rubbed against Gary's elbow.

A jumble of sensations jolted him as he processed his view of Sister's lovely derrière and what seemed to be panty lines from a g-sting, her lovely scent that greeted him with her kiss, and the brush of her breasts against his left elbow. He was in heaven.

"My pleasure," he stammered as they began to stroll away from the tree. "I mean, I would do anything for you. This is my favorite class and you are, well, my favorite teacher." His smile met her own, and they began to walk down the hill away from the school.

For a brief mournful second, Gary remembered the 20 or so scholarship offers that awaited his consideration, all from outside of town, all away from Sister Mary Josephine. No time for that right now, he told himself.

He started talking about what intrigued him most about Shakespeare, which was his many layered visions of love, coupled with yearning and lust. There was lots of sex in Shakespeare, and Sister Mary Josephine, unlike any of the other teachers he had at school, was not afraid to discuss it,

"What do you think, Sister, was more important to Shakespeare?" Gary paused and then, given the opening from Sister's epithet, went further, "Love or fucking?" He saw a mischievous glimmer race across her eyes as she feigned surprise at his boldness.
 
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Informalities



“What do you think, Sister, was more important to Shakespeare?” Gary asked rhetorically. “Love? ...or fucking?”

It took a moment for the inappropriateness of his language to sink in.

“Gary!” she scolded him automatically when it did. “You know that’s not the kind of language to use in school.”

Then she remembered he may have just overheard her using the same term in an even less suitable circumstance. She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it; just don’t do it again. It’s my own fault, probably. I like to be open and informal, especially with my smarter and more analytical students. I prefer the feeling of a symposium to a lecture. And, as you know, the Bard does not himself shy away from vulgar language.”


 
Deflowerig

"And as you know," Sister Mary Josephine said, the Bard himself did not shy away from vulgar language.

Gary felt a bit better after Sister's admonition. She was right, he thought to himself.

"I meant no disrespect, Sister. My apologies, " he said, his hand brushing against hers as they walked. "Hamlet himself talks about Gertrude making love, something he obviously did not approve. And Laertes warns Ophelia about not being deflowered, keeping her button, which I think is her clitoris, pure. There is lots of sex going on in Hamlet, but the men don't seem to like it very much."

Without intending to, they had walked all the way to a stream in the park next to the school.

"If I may ask, Sister Mary Josephine," Gary queried, "Did you have sex before becoming a nun? You are human, after all."
 
Voice of Experience



“Goodness gracious, Gary!” Sister Mary Josephine laughed at his inquiry about her sex life before taking vows. “You are taking liberties today.”

She thought a moment and made a decision. “As you say, though, I am human, and I am a teacher, so if I can impart some wisdom from my own experiences, I suppose I should.”

She picked up a dead, long twig from the river bank and started breaking small pieces off of it and throwing them into the stream. The current carried them away. Her eyes followed each in turn to avoid looking at her student.

“I made a lot of bad choices in my youth,” she admitted. She paused again, and her eyes focused on things only she could see. “So I speak with experience when I tell you the Church is right, you should not have sex until you’re married, and then only with your spouse.”


 
A dream derailed

"You should not have sex until you're married, and then only with your spouse."

Gary's heart lost a beat as Sister Mary Josephine's word clattered around in his brain. He watched as Sister dropped bits of broken branch into the stream, as if his own now-shattered dreams were being carried away by the water.

He quickly went back to Hamlet, as if to try to break this cursed spell. "But Hamlet did not want his mother to have sex, even in marriage. And Laertes talking to Ophelia. Sex seems to be a vile, ruinous act to them, regardless of marriage. And yet, there is all this lust hanging out there. It is in the air."

Gary found his own stick and began breaking bits off, casting them into the water, in concert with Sister Mary Josephine. Eventually, it became a competition, with with the two of them grabbing bigger branches and throwing them in. Laughing, Sister reached for a big branch right above them but slipped on the bank and began to tumble towards the water. Gary jumped just in time and pulled her back, slipping himself and falling into the water. This time, Sister Mary Josephine extended her hand to Gary, wet but happy.
 
No Good Deed Goes Unpunished



“Oh my goodness, Gary!” Sister Mary Josephine laughed as she pulled him from the stream. “That was most gallant, but you’re soaked.”

Just then, a cloud front covered the sun and a burst of cold wind reminded them that, despite the day’s mild weather, it remained winter.

“You live pretty far from here, don’t you?” Mary Josephine asked. “It might have been better if you’d let me fall in. You’ll freeze to death before you get home. My apartment is just down the block from here.”

She thought for a moment, then continued. “Look, it’s against all kinds of rules and policies, but these are exceptional circumstances. Maybe you had better stop by my apartment before you go home so you can get dry.”

 
If a man goes to this water

"Maybe you should stop by my apartment and get dry before going home,," said Sistter Mary Josephine.

Gary was soaked, his clothes clinging to him like plastic wrap. He nodded, his teeth chattering slightly. "Better me wet than you," Gary said as they made their way to Sister's apartment. "Especially in your habit. That could have been too much Ophelia!" They laughed a bit, the image of a floating nun just funny enough.

Gary knew his wet, thin khakis were clinging to his by-now chronic erection, but was unable to do much about it. He just hoped Sister hadn't seen it. The more he thought about it, the more it grew, so he decided to put it out of his mind as they walked.

"This may be a stupid question, Sister, but how do nuns go swimming? I mean, I know you don't swim in your habit. And I am sure you don't go skinny-dipping," Gary said, his last image causing him to grow some more.
 
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Sartorial Extremes



“This may be a stupid question, Sister,” Gary said. “But how do nuns go swimming? I mean, I know you don’t swim in your habit, and I am sure you don’t go skinny-dipping.”

“In private we could,” she answered without really thinking of how it sounded, or how it might affect the young man. “But to get to the point of your question, we swim in swimming suits, like anyone else. My order does not insist on its members wearing the habit. I do it because... well, I figure anything worth doing is worth doing to its full extent.”

 
"My order does not insist I wear the habit. I do it because, well, I think anything worth doing is worth doing to its full extent'" Sister said as they arrived at a large apartment building.

In one sense, Gary was almost chilled to the bone, his wet clothes clinging to him in the cold winter air. But in another sense, he was quite warm, almost hot, as he processed what Sister was saying about skinny dipping, her habit, and the last comment, about doing something to is full extent.

As they walked up the steps to Sister's apartment, Gary followed, Sister's behind practically in his face.
 
Hospitality



“Welcome to my humble abode,” Sister Mary Josephine smiled shyly as she opened the door to her apartment. “I’m sorry, I was in a rush this morning and didn’t make my bed.”

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As they stepped in, Gary saw a nicely decorated studio. Directly across from the door, a table just big enough for four diners sat in front of a single counter kitchen. To the immediate right, a white sectional sofa made for a comfortable living area which too closely faced the full size bed set against the far wall, unmade as she had said. It appeared that Sister Mary Josephine did not own a television.

“The bathroom’s around that corner,” she told him, pointing down a little hallway leading to the left of the kitchen. “I have a washer and dryer. Why don’t you go and get out of those wet things and pass them out to me. Maybe you want to take a shower to warm up.”





(I added the floor plan to give Gary and me a common reference for consistency in our writing, and to help us and our readers better visualize things.



 

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A house unto itself

"Why don't you get out of those wet things and pass them to me?" Sistter Mary Josephine said. "Maybe you should take a shower and warm up."

Gary nodded his head in agreement, the shivering subsiding. He quickly scanned the apartment, which had a nice scent that he could not place and was mostly tidy, save for the unmade bed. As he closed the bathroom door behind him, he noticed a very short and lacy nighty hanging in the door.

He undressed quickly, removing his wet socks, shirt, khakis and boxers in rapid succession. As he started the shower, excited in the knowledge that Sister was just outside the door, he quickly studied his physique in the mirror,. He had an athlete's body (he played baseball and soccer), with fairly flat abs and muscled thighs and strong shoulders. Long feet and hands. A small but tight ass. And, at this moment, a seven inch throbbing uncircumcised penis, which grazed the shower door as he stepped in.

Gary first started lightly stroking himself, thinking that he (and she) might be less embarrassed if his erection was gone. His eyes open and focusing on the nighty, he began massaging his shaft as the water warmed him. He started to soap himself, ironically in that sign of the cross way that boys do when they are in a hurry: armpits, chest, crotch, his dark black pubes sudsy in the process. He had just started caressing his soapy penis when he heard Sister knock on the door.
 
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