Still working on this one, my dears. But here’s Amanda, spying on the nun, Sister Alice
It wasn’t that Amanda was afraid of Sister Alice. The nun was nice – a good professor and easy to talk with. Rather, it was that the nun was pretty and young – surprisingly young. And attractive. At least as far as Amanda could see. The nun’s habit and wimple covered all but a nun’s face. From the back or side, nun’s tended to look very similar to one another. Certainly the grossly overweight ones were easy to separate from the underweight – but still, it was difficult to identify at St. Gertrude’s unless one saw her straight on.
That’s what was happening at this moment.
“Hello?” Sister Alice’s voice was still low, but confident. “No one here,” she said, as much to herself as the apparently empty room. “Finally, some piece and quiet.” With those words, Sister Alice unbelted her robe, then bent low and grasped the hem of the garment. A moment later, she stood straight up, lifting her arms high above her head.
“O my gosh.” Amanda mouthed the words to herself, and then quickly pulled her feet up so that there was no chance of them being seen below the stall door. She squatted on the toilet and stared through the peephole at the nun. Sister Alice had removed her woolen belt, habit, sleeves, black veil and wimple. Most nuns wore two underskirts beneath their robe, almost like petticoats. But Sister Alice was wearing something quite different, and now she stood nearly naked before the mirrors in the ladies dressing room.
“Mmmm,” the nun groaned and reached behind back to undo the stays of her black and red lace taffeta corset.
Amanda goggled at the nun through the peephole. “A corset?” That wasn’t all the Sister had beneath her robes. Black panties matched the corset, and series of adjustable straps held a pair of seamed, black stockings in place. Above the lingerie, Sister Alice’s hair was long, a silky sheen of black that hung below her shoulders and was curled at the bottom in a 1940s style.
For Amanda, it seemed like a Bettie Page moment. The nun had stripped off her robe and in doing so, stripped away the strict confines of a stuffy religion. In one simple disrobing, Sister Alice had shown herself to be as wanton and sexual as any woman. Even though the nun kept those lusts and desires locked away behind her voluminous habit, they were now on display. Unconsciously, Amanda admired Sister Alice’s body: beautiful legs, a narrow waist, slim hips and firm breasts.
Sister Alice didn’t take her corset off. Instead, she unfastened only a couple of stays and groaned with pleasure as she took deep breaths. Amanda could see the nun reflected in the mirror, and with each breath, Sister Alice’s breasts nearly popped from the corset’s cups. The nun closed her eyes and rolled her head back with pleasure; Amanda was sure she saw one hand stray to between the Sister Alice’s legs. Though it was too low for the mirror to capture and reflect, in Amanda’s mind, she was certain that Sister Alice had cupped her own public mound and was now squeezing hard.