“O my gosh.” Amanda again 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 mirror 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?” And that wasn’t the omly surprise Sister Alice 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 hair 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 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 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 between 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.
It was then that Amanda realized that she was touching herself, and she was suddenly ashamed. Here she was, pushing her own body toward orgasm, and yet Amanda was squatting on a toilet spying on a nun. Embarrassment flooded Amanda, and her face flushed a bright red. She felt the heat of her shame throughout her body. Amanda squeezed her eyes shut and her legs tighter, but in her mind she still saw Sister Alice – her curves and legs, her lovely long, black hair. Amanda opened her eyes again.
Ahead of her, the nun had turned to face the stall, and now had her backside to the mirror. The nun’s arms were twisted around her back, as she clutched at the stays in her corset. The nun took a deep breath and snapped the last of the stays into place. Then Sister Alice bent slightly forward at the waist. She smiled and with her dark eyes, she studied the stall door that separated her from Amanda. Amanda’s eyes widened; she was afraid that she had been discovered. The nun bent just a little bit further and extended one hand. She casually picked up a piece of her habit and threw it over her free arm. But even though the nun retrieved her garments from the floor, she never took her eyes of the stall.
Amanda held her breath.
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