He wore a paisley shirt.

The nun watched as he ate his hot dog 

And as he took one bite, squirted mustard all over himself

He swore loudly as if his voice was just loud

Unable to whisper

The nun fingered her prayer beads under her habit,  

The other hand moving a fork around a plate of salad. 

She watched as he grabbed a page of 

the newspaper he was reading to 

wipe pathetically 

At his paisley shirt.

Our father who art in heaven

Hallowed be thy name

Give us this day our daily bread and

Forgive us our sins as we forgive those

Who hath sinned against us, 

For thine is the kingdom, the power, and glory

Forever, and ever….

The nun attempted to pray as her cunt started to

Swell and moisten watching this awkward bumbling tourist

attempt to eat his meal.

He crumbled the mustard smeared newsprint and set it aside 

And while he was doing that,  accidentally knocked over his drink

Another loud swear. And the nun was undone.

Her hand dove between her thighs to press against her cunt

And she exhaled roughly.

She missed men.

A lot.

She watched as he flagged down the waitress 

And became a poster boy of profuse apologies

The waitress went to get a broom and assured him 

Countless times that it was okay 

That it happened all the time. 

The nun was rubbing furiously now, using the hardness 

Of her prayer beads to rub perfectly against her clit through her panties.

The barrier of cloth,  adding to her pleasure.

He was shaking his head,  looking embarrassed

He took off his hat to run a hand over his balding head

The waitress was all business

But the way he was looking at her sheepishly

Said he was more embarrassed that he had made a fool 

Of himself in front of someone so young and beautiful

The nun’s free hand gripped the table, as she came so hard 

She squirted under the table

Squirted hard enough and abundant enough

That the gush of it was audible to anyone around her table.

On the cold cement of the outdoor bistro

She was so lost in the mind-blowing orgasm she didn’t notice 

till after it had calmed down 

And she was trying to regulate her breathing.

The tourist was staring at her now, 

Confused.  

She stared back at him. 

And very slowly took her hand up from under the table

With the prayer beads, wrapped ‘round her wrist

And righted herself in the chair

She had sunk down and slumped in it a little

Now sitting upright, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin

Keeping her eyes on the tourist.  

Before getting up from her table, 

Putting a few coins down to pay for the 

Neglected salad, crossed herself 

Gave the tourist a wave before lowering her head

And walking the short walk back to the Convent

Wondering how long she should wait

Before going to confession.

Maybe she’d  accumulate more sins

Before she’d ask for penance.

Hail Mary full of grace

The lord is with thee

Blessed art thou among women….

She prayed as she walked, 

Her fingers  fondling her prayer beads

Damp with her own … holy water.