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Often, mankind are so wicked and hypocrite that they will paint the best of men in a very dark light.The Armistice came into effect on November 11th, 1918, at eleven o’clock. It put a long-awaited end to four years of unspeakable carnage and horror. France, just like Germany, was tested to the utmost limits of resources and manpower. The Republic drew in men from the colonies—Algeria, Morocco, Senegal, etc.Moussa grew up in a village not very far from Dakar. As a tall, healthy young man, he was pressed into service for the Republic and away from his loving wife and two toddlers. After the Armistice, he had hoped to be sent back home to Senegal, but got stuck in dull garrison life, which he nonetheless welcomed since there were no more shelling and snipers to fear.Next May, Moussa set foot in Germany for the very first time when his battalion was deployed in Rhineland along with many other units of colonial troops.During the subsequent weeks, stories of horror started to circulate among the German population. In Berlin, when one sat in a café for a late-afternoon snack, there were voices to be heard and newspaper articles to be read about the unspeakable atrocities that colonial troops were committing throughout Rhineland. According to these stories, no one was safe from their onslaught in the Black Forest, and the Senegalese Tirailleurs were cited as the worst villains.Months passed; summer gave way to fall that morphed into winter, and the Black Forest became white with snow-covered firs on gentle knolls and not-so-gentle hills that overlooked the Rhine. It was a wine-rich country with castles, old churches and abbeys and stories about ghosts, knights and noblewomen.********************************Moussa and his brothers-in-arms looked at this wintery landscape with mixed feelings. He was fascinated by this fairytale setting, with flurries of snowflakes gambolling and playing tricks with his imagination, making him think that some teenage-looking fairy was going to pop up behind the next snow-buried thicket, but as he walked on the fluffy snow, he felt a deep, painful longing for his wife, whom he had not seen in more than three years.He had fought like a lion and proven an invaluable member of his platoon. He had risen in rank, but his Sergeant’s stripes gave him little consolation. The ebony muscleman would gladly leave them to once again walk shirtless under Senegal’s tropical sun and be with his wife and children.Most of his ten men had a wife or fiancée in Senegal. His squad also had two teenage kids who had lied about their age to enlist for the sake of adventure.It was Christmas Eve. Daylight was already waning while it was still afternoon. The wind was blowing. Heavy snowfall formed a veil that made it impossible for one to see more than a hundred feet ahead.The Sergeant blew his whistle to gather his men. He ordered his Corporal to call the men by name and see who was there. He had no idea where the Lieutenant was.As the men were called, Moussa knew he was right. He was on his own with twenty men, while the Lieutenant was left with the other half of the patrolling platoon.The other squad was under a senior Corporal by the name of Babacar, who was on friendly terms with Moussa. The two squads marched together through these white unknown parts once the men had roped themselves together. They began looking for a campsite where they could quickly build shelters with fir branches.They wandered in the thick forest, under heavy snowfall, as the day was dying. To the west, there was an impressive clearing amid the clouds, where a patch of dusk-orange sky displayed a grandiose view of late-afternoon heavens that tainted the surrounding grey clouds with dusk-rose puffs in various tones.This show of celestial beauty carried the elusive dream of some faraway June night—the dream of being reunited with loved ones. It brought joy, hope and sorrow to the men’s hearts.Ousmane, the junior Corporal spearheading the foremost squad, spotted some feeble lights through the heavy snowfall. The Sergeant ordered to make for these lights and the men marched on in spite of a thickening snow cover.They followed this guiding light like the Three Magi 1919 years earlier.“Are we going to find Little Jesus over there, Sergeant?” Ousmane jested.“Certainly not, Corporal, but there will be an ox, a donkey and a warm stable,” Moussa replied.He felt it was a farm. He did not need to tell his men to be well-behaved in their dealings with local people. He thought of all these tall tales about his kind behaving like brigands; if anything, it was the local girls who were chasing his men more than the other way around.Indeed, unlike the townsfolk who kept painting them in a sinister light, the country girls were fascinated by these African men wearing the horizon-blue uniform. They had never seen such men in person and were curious about them. Many of them believed they were all studs.The guiding lights became brighter and plainly visible through the falling snow. They were almost there. It wasn’t a farm. There were stables all right, but it looked like some sort of monastery; the granite architecture was centuries old.The Sergeant knocked at the front door. A female voice spoke, “Wer ist da?” (who is it?)Moussa answered in French. The woman beyond the door asked him to wait in a simple German sentence that he understood. Two minutes later, there was another woman who spoke perfect French and introduced herself as Sister Héloïse.The Sergeant quickly explained that he and his twenty men got lost around these parts and he requested permission to spend the night in the stables.The door was unbolted and opened. In front of Moussa stood a nun of about thirty years old, who welcomed him in her flawless French. The other nun was older and stood two steps behind. Both wore a black gown with a white, round collar and a black wimple with a white headband and a white hem. A rosary with a small crucifix and glistening beads hung at their belt.Sister Héloïse, with a deferent voice, introduced Sister Martha, a sexagenarian nun who took Moussa to the Abbess while the rest of the men were asked to wait outside.Karla, a young Abbess, received Moussa in her study, which was made of massive woodwork and contained an impressive library. She was last of a long succession of abbesses that reached all the way to the medieval centuries. Her gown and wimple accentuated this notion.She gracefully rose from her desk and welcomed the Senegalese Sergeant as he walked into her study after Sister Martha, who promptly left. She instantly took note of his horizon-blue trench coat with a matching steel helmet, still wet with melting snow. His collar wore the number “21” in black characters.“As black as the hell he’s been through,” thought the Abbess, then another thought crossed her mind: “Men like him deserve a reward!”She tossed the thought aside and noticed he was still carrying his Lebel rifle. Sister Martha had forgotten to ask him izmit escort bayan to leave it at the front door, but the man stood so peacefully that the notion of him using it at present was ludicrous. He was a lot more likely to… She buried that dirty thought deep down within her.In the study’s peaceful silence, the African man observed the fascinating woman as she walked toward him and stopped a couple of paces away. She was neither tall nor short, but Moussa was so tall and broad-shouldered that she looked short and petite next to him. He couldn’t help but notice the noble curves of her breasts, which he found much to his liking—not very large, yet perky and quite inviting. The onyx crucifix she wore between these modest mounds added a taboo element.He enjoyed the daintiness of her hands and the bright paleness of her rich complexion as the Abbess chastely rested them together on her lap and spoke, in very good French…“The St. Ingrid Abbey welcomes you, noble stranger. I am Abbess Karla von Löwen and I’m your most humble servant”, she said as she looked into his eyes with a surprising intensity that nearly set her green eyes ablaze.Indeed, she had not been so close to a young man for a very long time. She sensed how strong and heavy he must be, and she had to curb the natural instincts that began stirring within her body as she felt his gaze on her bosom.As he looked back at her in the study’s peaceful silence, Moussa didn’t know what to do, so he took a step toward the noble Abbess and went to gently take her hand to greet her, but she recoiled and looked at him with some measure of alarm in her eyes that looked like pure jade under the soft candlelight bathing the wooden room.She was panting slightly; Moussa heard it and felt her trouble. This greatly aroused him and he had to mentally keep his sexual urges in check as he started to picture himself grabbing this gorgeous blonde—he had noticed a stray thread of her hair—and savagely taking her on that desk.He cleared his voice and introduced himself…“I am Sergeant Moussa Youssef from the 21st Regiment of Tirailleurs; I am from Senegal and I warmly salute you, Milady Abbess.”She listened to his suave, baritone voice, just as if she were enjoying some exotic fruit from Africa. Her breathing and her heartbeats were still accelerated. She enjoyed his gaze on her and she knew that if this young man decided to go for her, she’d try to escape him, but she would let him catch her, and then… Oh, but she was a young woman of God!This was her strongest temptation ever.“You…” she began saying, trying to calm down.“We would like to use your stables as sleeping quarters; we won’t make any trouble and we’ll be gone tomorrow, Milady Abbess…”She liked the preposterous way he called her “Milady Abbess” with authentic deference, yet his onyx-dark eyes sparkled with savage lights that told her that he would immensely enjoy stripping her and running his hands all over her nakedness, which only God had ever seen.“The stables…” she answered, while offering him a Jocund-subtle smile. “Nonsense! You and all your men will be welcome within my, uh, within our walls. This is Christmas Eve and this house of God is open to any man in need of lov… uh, in need of a shelter.”Moussa heard her stutter and sensed her trouble. He smiled at her, quietly and warmly, just like he would smile at his wife, and he nodded.“There are twenty-one of us, Milady Abbess, and there may not be enough…”“Oh, we’ll get you some rooms; my sisters can certainly sleep in closer quarters for one night. No, no, I will not accept any refusal. I formally invite you, Sergeant!”As she finished her sentence, she spoke nobly, putting all the warmth she could muster in her soprano voice, and she lingered on the double “L” as she said, “officiellement” (formally). Her voice only lingered like this when she was sexually aroused; she knew this. Her face blushed.Moussa perceived this and itched a bit; he felt like taking her in his arms and kissing her. She was so beautiful! She truly looked like a noblewoman from a past century.The Abbess sensed his lust and began panting again; her womanhood was flooded, her face flushed and she suddenly realized that she had shifted her position as she spoke; she was now facing him in a three-quarter profile, which highlighted the shapes of her breasts, an effect that wasn’t lessened by the rope she wore as a belt, which was a symbol of humility that ironically accentuated her violoncello-shaped hips.“Dinner will be served, Sergeant. My sisters and I will be delighted to have you as our honoured guests. If you like roasted chestnuts, then you’re in luck as we have plenty, and since it’s Christmas Eve, we’ll have large Black Forest cakes and Belgian chocolate for dessert, as well as French coffee and peach schnapps. We have a great many things to offer that you will like very much; I am certain that you will greatly enjoy your stay with, uh, among us, Sergeant…”As she spoke, she had to check her natural urge to move closer to him; he stood so tall and dominating above her five-foot-three frame! She felt curious to touch and feel his manly arms. She also felt curious to touch and caress his Lebel rifle. She mentally pictured herself sucking its muzzle in front of him and she urgently buried that impure thought.Moussa awkwardly, yet very politely took his leave. He knew he was going to masturbate at the first opportunity, unless he… but no, he was a gentleman.The Abbess went straight to the kitchen to order twenty-one extra helpings of soup, more bread, cheese, etc. The head cook swore and said the dinner would be two hours late, but when she learned that her new customers were young, uniformed men, the fifty-year-old Sister smiled with the few teeth she had left. She dutifully went about her work while wondering whether these men would notice the generous size of her assets.As soon as she was done giving her orders, the Abbess rushed back upstairs. Once she was safe in her study, behind locked doors, she intensely masturbated while bending herself over her desk and picturing this Sergeant Moussa holding her waist tightly and fucking her from behind like a grunting stallion!She took the lower part of her ample sleeve and bit into the thick fabric to muffle the sounds of her intense bliss as she kept fingering her juicy cunt while her face rested on her lacquered desk. Oh, yes! The dick of a man… She was already twenty-seven years old and she had no idea what it felt like; and this man was Senegalese… She had heard that their… their thing was absolutely huge!******************************The nunnery’s most unusual guests had a full section of the refectory to themselves. As the men ate their soup, the nuns watched them closely.The nuns, young and old, kept whispering and giggling among themselves while eating. They were all excited like little girls and had a difficult time keeping their composure.The Abbess drank her wine izmit eve gelen escort nobly, as usual. She showed remarkable self-mastery while she kept watching Moussa, who looked like an African king among his men. She could tell these men were literally worshipping him. Winning Moussa would be winning them all.As she finished her soup, the Abbess started wondering what it would feel like, to be alone and Eve-naked in the middle of these men and letting them touch and kiss her everywhere. She let the thoughts and the sensations run their course within her as she drank more wine.She asked a novice, Sister Wilhelmina, or simply Mina, to read the story for the day.Mina had been there for less than a year. She was only sixteen. Many Senegalese soldiers had fire in their eyes as they watched her kneel in a perfect show of innocence and humility.The golden-haired teen angel wore her belt a little too tightly for modesty—she had purposefully tightened it upon hearing the big news about Senegalese soldiers being guests in the abbey.As she knelt, Mina knew the nubile curves of her petite hips and legs were showing in their full glory, even under her black gown, not to mention her fascinating breast curves; she had rather small boobs, yet they rode high on her chest and stood out as mounds of tantalizing splendour for all men and lesbians to behold.Indeed, the four lesbian Sisters, and the others who were more or less bisexual, including the Abbess herself, took immense delight in contemplating Sister Mina as she began to read, holding the book in her tiny hands.Corporal Ousmane was glad there was a table, for he experienced a titanic erection as he imagined her hands holding his love rod with her dainty mouth giving a teenage-hot fellatio.Mina read the tale of St. Nicolas and the Evil Butcher. The men didn’t understand German well enough to follow the story. They did follow the shapes of Mina’s breasts as she breathed and kept nervously throwing sideway glances at her dark-faced guests.Moussa observed the nuns, each of whom would shyly look down upon sensing his gaze on her. There were about thirty or thirty-five nuns and half of them were still quite young. There were even a few other novices like Mina.He knew he had to behave. This was a golden opportunity to show the local population that they had nothing to fear from them, but what if these nuns started something? Moussa could feel the intensity in the way both groups were observing each other.The snowstorm raging outside brought a strong sense of isolation that only intensified this loaded atmosphere.Hopefully, the nuns were going to retire in their chapel to pray for Christmas and nothing preposterous would happen and they would be off next morning. Yet, Moussa knew he would feel terribly disappointed if nothing happened.He kept looking at the Abbess and often, their eyes met and she would quickly look down, only to look his way again as she drank her wine.When dessert was served, Moussa started noticing strange things in the way the nuns were eating their Black Forest cake. Mina, who was back in her seat, would pick up a cherry in her hand and lick it while looking at a man, then she would cast her head back and up as she swallowed her maraschino cherry.The other teenage nuns followed suit; they all looked at the men while eating their maraschino cherries in a uniquely sensual way, both innocent and erotic.The older nuns severely reprimanded them, yet Moussa noticed that the Abbess was keeping her wineglass in front of her mouth to hide how funny and predictable she was finding these teenage-girl antics.As she took the final sip of her last glass of wine, the Abbess cast her head a bit higher and offered her neck as she intensely looked at Moussa. She knew she was not going to resist the temptation. Why pretend?Moussa loved what he saw in the Abbess. He knew that she would most likely give herself to him if he went to her, but he felt the pang of guilt. What about his wife in Senegal? The more he contemplated the Abbess in her medieval-looking gown and wimple, the more he felt he was not going to resist the urge of seeking her.Then, rooms were assigned to the men, who would sleep four of five in each bedroom, which only had three beds, so most men would have to share the bed like Moby Dick’s hero at the onset of the famous novel.The fifteen young nuns who found themselves without a room would all share a bed with and cuddle one of their older peers. Human heat is a great way to stay warm during a wintery night.After the men were left to wind down in their guest rooms, the Abbess gathered all the sisters in the chapel for the special prayers of Christmas Eve. Then, she made a stern speech in which she reminded her pupils of their sacred vows to God. They all had given their love, body and soul, to the Lord, and as such, they were far and above the impure lusts and desires of the flesh. As she spoke, Mina thought about the best plan to get passed the wardens and reach a room full of these men. Maybe Ingrid would have a good idea; she was so bright! The other teen girls were terrified of becoming damned souls if they gave way to their bodily lusts, like most of their older peers.*********************************************As she retired for the night, the Abbess found herself in the peace and silence of her study. She loosened her belt and walked in her bedroom, where she freed her feet from her shoes and removed the wool leggings all nuns wore under their gown during the cold months.Then, she washed herself using fir-scented soap. As she stood in front of her modest mirror, Karla knew she had made the right decision. She knelt, crossed herself and started to pray.*************************************“Shhh! Not so loud, Mina! And what are you doing here?” Sister Helsa whispered to the sixteen-year-old novice, who had taken to the hallways along with Ingrid, a same-age novice.“I could ask you the same question, Sister Helsa,” the daring teenager replied to her grown-up peer, a full-fledged sister in her mid-twenties.“Quiet! You know Sister Martha has very good ears…” Sister Héloïse added.Following Helsa’s lead, the four other nuns walked gracefully as their dainty feet only emitted a pitter-patter of pure female shuffle under their black gowns; they didn’t wear shoes and walked in wool leggings as silently as possible through the old, alcove-lined hallways.“Do you know where you’re going, Helsa?” Yula inquired in a whispering voice; her lovely accent would alter the beliefs of anyone who thought German was a coarse language only fit for horses, for she spoke with as much grace as a dryad, and she looked the part too.“Yes… Quiet now…”Helsa took a narrow side alley, which was pitch-dark. She partly removed the cover of the small, black-iron lantern she was carrying. She then stopped near the end of the cul-de-sac, placed her feebly lit lantern at her feet and knelt down at the foot izmit otele gelen escort of the side wall, where she carefully removed a loose brick.“It’s here,” whispered Helsa. “Now, we only have to wait; I’ll let you know when I’ll see her pass through the secret passage.”“Are you sure she will go?” asked Héloïse with her subtle French accent.“Yes, my sweet,” Helsa softly replied as she tenderly kissed Héloïse on her lily-white cheek. “As sure as you mispronounce your ‘R’s,” she jested and kissed her again.“How can you be so sure?” Mina inquired with the naturally curious voice of a teenager.“Just from the way she was drinking her wine while looking at their Sergeant all the time. It was plain as day, but quiet now; she won’t be long now.Helsa covered her light and all five nuns remained silent in the dark, cold side alley; none of them would have ventured there alone, for this was a very old building with a long, rich history. Eerie sounds were heard in these passageways at night and it was natural to think that some ghosts and spirits were present.Indeed, the howling wind from outside made strange repercussions beyond the visible darkness. The fellow sisters pressed themselves against one another as they listened to these eerie sounds. There were no signs of sisters Martha and Teresa, the two elderly nuns who had been delegated as wardens by the Abbess.A few minutes later, Helsa saw a feeble light through the brick hole. She heard mysterious steps that approached in a steady pitter-patter; the lamplight increased in intensity as the steps drew near.Then, she saw her. It was the Abbess all right. She was barefoot and quietly walking toward the rooms where the Senegalese men were to spend the night.************************************************When they saw a wooden panel opening in their room, Sergeant Moussa and his Corporals were transfixed. Their jaws dropped in sheer amazement as they saw some blonde goddess wearing the black and white robes of a nun, but no wimple; her hair flowed down in glorious rivers of golden light under the room’s tawny oil lamp.It was the Abbess.She whispered to Moussa and told him to follow her.Corporal Babacar usually preferred his own Senegalese women, but when he noticed the Abbess was barefoot, he threw himself down at her feet and began to caress and worship them with his mouth and tongue.“Not here! Please, all of you, follow me. This passage leads to my private suite.”She disappeared into the dark opening.Moussa and the two Corporals looked at each other. Not a word was spoken. They followed the Abbess.As she led the way with her lantern, Moussa and Babacar were at full leisure to admire the tightness of her belt around her slim waist that displayed so perfectly the virginal, yet child-bearing curves of her hips and buttocks through her nun’s gown, the blackness of which symbolized her consecration to God.The three men walked with some discomfort as they followed the aristocratic-looking Abbess; each had a monster erection between their legs.As she walked, the Abbess felt her legs turn to water and she breathed deeper as she was nearing her destination.*************************“I knew it!” Helsa whispered in a raging hiss after observing the Abbess through the brick hole. “What a dirty hypocrite! She is taking three men, three, for herself! And the Sergeant’s among them. The dirty harlot!”“Well,” replied Yula, “that leaves the eighteen others for us! I’ve counted them; there are twenty-one of these big boys within our walls.”“Oohh, I do want them within my walls!” Héloïse added. “I want so much to know what it’s like to be filled up with their seed!”“Three times seven… The Trinity and the number of mankind; it’s the divine that unites with the flesh. Oh, this is a wonderful sign of God!” Yula concluded.“And this is the safest time of our month. The Lord wants us to enjoy Christmas. He’s rewarding our years of sacrifice!” Héloïse replied.“Quiet!” Helsa snapped. “Martha must not be far…”Martha was nowhere to be seen. None of the sexagenarian nuns were to be seen or heard as the naughty nuns took the main passageway again. Now that the Abbess was leading by example, they became bolder.“Where’s Mina?” wondered Héloïse.“She vanished, Ingrid too… Too bad for them; they’re going to miss the fun,” Helsa said.“Choose the right door, Helsa,” Yula replied. “I want a room with five of them! I want two of them inside me, oooh… Oh, Lord Jesus, Mary and the Holy Ghost, forgive your humble servant!”Helsa’s hand was guided by good fortune. When she turned the unlocked brass knob and the door opened, the three young women of God found five pairs of Senegalese eyes and five thick-lipped mouths that opened in flabbergasted amazement. Yula’s heart leaped in her chest.Héloïse entered the room and locked gazes with a young soldier, who smiled at her. Héloïse flung herself in his arms and the improbable lovers began kissing and making out.Then, Helsa saw a kneeling figure doing something that she couldn’t nor wanted to believe.It was Sister Teresa, giving fellatio. The petite Italian woman had discarded her wimple and let her silvery hair cascade down in surreal freedom. It covered her entire back, almost reaching her butt, which looked oddly beautiful and erotic. Little Teresa, who had been a teenage novice in her own years, was showing that she could really polish a helmet with her relentless tongue work.Under the lamplight, the dark hand of a Senegalese soldier was gently stroking her silver threads that were once sleek and black, while Sister Teresa kept her mouth sealed around his dick, which she was also holding with her hand while keeping her other hand against his upper thigh to keep her balance. Her head kept bobbing back and forth, in complete harmony with the man’s grunts of delighted astonishment. Helsa saw wonder and surprise in the lad’s features.Helsa and Yula couldn’t take their eyes off that African dick, so gloriously hard and dark while Teresa kept holding and pleasuring it.The other men did not remain idle. They instantly spotted Helsa’s and Yula’s youthful charms; both women were still in their prime child-bearing years, and their curves were easily seen through their tight-roped gowns.Yula yelped with delight as two thoroughbred studs rushed at and grabbed her; just like she had anticipated.“Ohh, ja! Ja! Oh, zieht mich aus! Bitte, bitte! Zieht mich aus!” (Ohh, yes! Yes! Oh, undress me! Please, please! Undress me!) Yula begged the two uniformed Senegalese.They didn’t understand much German, but they easily got her drift from the burning kisses she was covering them with.They pinned Yula between them in a corner of the room. They promptly liberated her brown hair by removing her wimple. They had misunderstood her use of the German verb “ziehen” and thought she wanted them to rip her garments off, so they grabbed the top of her gown and pulled as hard as they could.The fabric was tough and their pulling force made Yula yelp with pain. They kept straining and suddenly filled the room with a sharp ripping sound as her God-consecrated gown gave way under the mighty hands of these sons of Allah, who grunted with savage delight as Yula’s pale breasts came into full display along with the brownness of her nipples.
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