I was an altar boy in the church of a town in the Serranía de Cuenca. My little girlfriend from the College was blessed because she always put herself in the first pew of the Church in her offices.

She told me:

“I love Jesus very much. And when I go to confess or kiss the monstrance with the sacred host, I feel as if a dove or a little bird were kissing Pussy’s lips.”

I noticed that the celebrant priest looked at her with eyes of love because she was very pretty. She told me:

“If it wasn’t because I like you, I would go to study at a nunnery.”

“Well, I’ll go too, to a monastery or seminary, when you stop having my twat in your custody and don’t take it out in procession twice a day in the threshing floors.”

“How chubby you have, heh, heh.”

“And you, what a cute pussy. It looks like the meat of a mother-of-pearl clam.”

Our dreams were cut short by a dazed sheepherder from the village who saw us one noon playing with our sexes and making out like a dog does to a bitch, whom we imitated. Dogs that, by the way, belonged to the shepherd, for more grace and misfortune.

With a crook, he hit us so hard in the ass that he left us with bruises. He told our parents about it. And our parents sent me to the seminary and her to a very strict nunnery.

I didn’t know anything about her. But I remember her every day. And when I had my dick in hands and fingers, three times shook it with all my strength, and it spit milk on the books that I was studying.

I always told myself:

“There will never be a girl like her that I love so much.”