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We decided to dig in the archives to share the best of the begining of Le Mouching, lucky ones.
It was July, and I’d been in the congregation of the Sisters of Saint Tiburon for more than six months now, where I felt right at home. The first few months had been the most difficult, and I’d been the butt of many quips and silly jokes reserved for novices, but that was the price I had to pay for my integration, nothing unkind.
So we planned a day at the seaside to take our minds off things and, above all, to get us away from the convent and the village of Sainte Nipoule. Besides, the sea air would do us good.
The sisters knew nothing about me, and it wasn’t their indiscreet questions that had been lacking, but I couldn’t tell them how I’d ended up here.
It all started with a visit to a clairvoyant bitch, Joséphine, in a boutique on the boulevards. I’d come out of it transformed, and she’d told me I had to change my life.
So at the end of October, dressed as a woman, I presented myself at the convent.
Living among these reclusive women, some of whom were veritable canons of beauty, was a real joy.
No sooner had we arrived in the little port of Barange sur Mer, than the excitement had risen a notch. The sisters, no doubt titillated by the sight of men on the quayside as we strolled along, giggled and giggled benignly.
I went into a holiday goods store and came out with five pairs of sunglasses, which I promptly distributed to the delight of the sisters, who were initially a little embarrassed, but quickly won over. But above all, I had bought a magnificent Garbolino rod and a fully-equipped Daïwa reel.
Passing the butcher’s shop next door, I bought two kilos of meat for the animals.
We set off in single file along the Fishermen’s Warf, me in the lead followed by my four novices.
Do you rent your boat?
The fisherman, taken aback by such a large crew, didn’t even have time to reply as we were already on board. Heading for the open sea, where the currents bring the small fry to the big predators, we sped along.
The smell of the sea gave me that delicious sensation of a permanent erection. To keep our balance on the swell, we stuck together… I was getting a hard-on.
When I reached the fringe of foam left by the current bumping against the shoal, I grabbed the rod, hooked on a nice piece of meat weighing at least 800 grams, and threw it as far as I could. In his cabin, the captain, pipe in mouth, couldn’t believe his eyes. Barely ten minutes later, as the sisters stuck close to me to learn the secrets of sea fishing, I was shaken by a titanic touch! I stiffened every muscle in my body, and felt the sisters confused, fearful and excited at the same time… After a good fifteen minutes of fighting, there were admiring Haaaaaaaa and Hooooooo! A magnificent blue shark had taken the bait! Back at the harbour, to the applause of the public gathered for such an event, we posed for the photographers. I could gently feel Sister Sainte Odile clinging to me, she was young and beautiful, I couldn’t wait to get back to the convent, maybe tonight I’ll show her what a real shark fisherman is made of!