Date: Wed, 26 Aug 2020 14:50:37 +0200 From: Michel Kuksuger Subject: Conventus Fraternitati Fieri The monastery Dear reader My name is Jean Luc. I am 24 years old and live in Montreal, Canada. My parents believe I should stay in France with my grandparents each summer, to stay in touch with my French roots. Well, my grandparents are wonderfully kind people and I'm always happy to stay with them for a couple of weeks in July. They live in the Auvergne, in central France, pretty far away from everything. They make their own cheese called Bleu d'Auvergne, and their neighbour produces a pretty decent red wine. Normally, the time I spend with my grandparents is mostly about relaxing, eating wonderful food, and improving my French language skills. This year though, things were going to get quite a bit more interesting than usual. During the very first weekend, my grandparents suggested we should visit the nearby monastery, officially called "Conventus fraternitati fieri". I was not very motivated at first, but they assured me it was a beautiful, secluded Franciscan monastery. There is quite a bit of land around the buildings and the huge medieval walls, with forests and a river. Normally it is not open for outside visitors, but every first Saturday of the month they let in just a few outsiders, and since the last time my grandparents visited the monastery was before I was born, it would be nice to go have a look. We arrived at almost exactly 10:00, as agreed with the monastery administration, and as we parked the car, the lower part of a gigantic door opened just enough to let us in. The warm July air was quickly replaced with the cooler dampness of the surrounding stone and clay. A gentle voice ushered us in, and even though I could not see much in the shadows, I figured he was probably in his early twenties. As our eyes got accustomed to the low light, my impression was confirmed. Not only was our guide in his early twenties, his blond hair was mostly covered by a medieval habit but he still got my full attention. He told us that his name was brother Michaelis, but it was fine to just call him Michel. He would be our tour guide for the day. As Michel guided us along the many buildings, statues, and relics that the monastery had gathered through the ages, my attention shifted more and more towards his slender posture, gentle voice and his elegant gait. Were my eyes deceiving me, or was my Gaydar functioning as well as normal? After an hour or two, I noticed my grandparents were getting tired, and Michel did wisely to let them set the pace as we entered the final hallway filled with priceless artifacts. He deliberately slowed down and let them go ahead, and since I did the same he was basically right by my side all the time. After the initial quick glances, I felt safe enough to look him in the eyes for a few seconds, and he smiled back to me. Suddenly, as we turned a corner, his hand ever so slightly patted my buttocks, and as I looked startled, he just smiled and made some a subtle reassuring gesture with the hand that had only just touched me. From that moment onwards, the chemistry between us would never be the same. Towards the end of the tour, Michel slipped a piece of paper into my hands. I waited for a bit behind a pillar and read the note - it said "Tu reviens ce soir? ca me ferait du plaisir!" - "Will you return this evening? I would like that a lot!". I reappeared from behind the pillar and nodded decisively in Michel's direction. He then continued and ended the tour, thanking us all for the interest we had taken in visiting the monastery - and he managed to slip another hastily scribbled note in my hands. This time it said "After Compline, wait right outside". My grandparents were delighted afterwards, they had had such a wonderful visit to the monastery and Brother Michel had been so kind to tell them so much about the place. I fully agreed, it had been a heartwarming experience. When we returned at my grandparents' house, I Googled what Compline means - apparently it's the final prayers at 19:00, just before retiring. Excellent. Usually, we would have dinner at around 18, and my grandparents would sleep a bit afterwards and I was free to do whatever I wanted to do. Given the remote location, that meant I did a fair bit of running and biking in the evening, usually returning when my grandparents had already fallen asleep. Today, I decided to take a quick shower before biking, but otherwise I slipped out unnoticed and arrived back at the monastery at 19:30. I put my bike behind a tree and wondered if Michel would be there. Just as I started to consider leaving again, I heard the large door creak. A voice said "go towards the door in the east wall, I cannot let you in here!" so that is what I did - I followed the 5 meter high eastern wall until I reached a small door after about a hundred meters. It opened just as I got there, and Michel was standing in the doorway, smiling. "I'm so glad you could come" Michel said as he laid a hand on my shoulder. "Come in, follow me. This is the farming section of the property, and the building right here next to the wall is the shed where we keep our tools. It's also where us farm hands meet in the evening." I was still a bit taken aback by him being so forward, but I followed him inside and we approached an area with a table, candlelights, and around us piles of hay, farming tools and otherwise complete quietness. "Sit, handsome" he said. "I didn't even catch your name" he added. "A glass of wine?". An excellent plan indeed, and after the initial pleasantries, we sat down on a makeshift sofa, Michel still wearing his brown habit, and me in my shorts and T-shirt. We looked at each other and laughed. "So, I hope you liked the tour?". I told him it was the first time I saw a monastery from the inside, and yes I had enjoyed what I saw. We talked for maybe 10 minutes, until Michel proposed to walk to the river before the other guys would come to the shed - we could watch the sun set. We gathered a blanket, another bottle of wine and glasses and made our way towards the river. At the point where the trail narrowed, Michel placed a rock on the path, to signal others that the spot near the river was already taken, as he explained me with unwarranted embarrassament. The smell of moist plants and the river water became increasingly stronger as we emerged onto a small sandy beach at the end of the trail. I inhaled the scents and the beautiful scenery and got a bit lightheaded from the beauty all around me. "Do you want to go for a swim, Michel? this is such a lovely spot!". Before I had finished my sentence, Michel had already dropped his habit on some stones, and his underpants. I followed suit, and we just looked at each other for a few seconds, both smiling from ear to ear and both sporting a hard on already - then we jumped into the water. The river meandered right where the beach was, making for a nice quiet area to swim in. We splashed around for a bit, then converged until we could grab hold of each other, and our lips embraced. My hands ran across Michel's body under water. He was surprisingly firm and muscular - not at all what I'd expect from a munk. As he noticed my surprise, he said the muscles were the result of working the land every day. His upper body definitely was a testimony to all that manual labour. He handled me gently but decisively, steadying me in the stream, and sitting me down on his lap as we were still mostly submerged. The crickets and birds were singing their evening song, and sunset was painting the sky with an orange hue. We decided it was time to get out of the water and into the little alcove the river had created for us a thousand years ago. As our goosebumps receded and darkness set in, we poured a glass of the monastery's vintage. Michel lit a few candles and we marvelled at each other's naked bodies. "You are the first black guy I've ever been with, would you believe it? You're just so beautiful... and the stereotype even seems to hold true ", he laughed, as he looked at my dick. No argument there, I had felt embarrassed having this snake in my underwear for years in my early teens, but now I could see where he was coming from. Acting on instinct alone, we moved closer and resumed the kissing and cuddling, this time without the water interfering. Michel positioned me squatting between his legs, with my back toward him. His strong hands were caressing me as we kissed with some difficulty, then I just leaned back against his body and relaxed as he played with my nipples. As my head tilted even further backwards, I could return the favour and nibbled his nipples. I also noticed a faint yet delicious scent emanating from his armpits, and I couldn't help myself - I just wanted to bury my nose in them. Somewhat surprised, Michel told me worldly things as deodorant were banned in the monastery. Somehow, removing that layer of chemicals had lead to nature taking over and re-establish a delightful balance where pheromones and hormones danced their tango unhindered. I turned around and slided downwards so I could finally devote my attention to Michel's private parts. I started by licking his balls, and the base of his cock, then continued to work my way upwards, and carefully kissed the tip of his cock. Michel had closed his eyes at this point, and to be honest I felt somewhere between heaven and earth as well. I had lost any notice of time, but at some point Michel cupped my chin in his hand, conjured up a condom, and whispered "Fuck me... please...fuck me real good". He had moved his legs upwards, inviting me to indulge him. I quickly figured out that the condom he had offered was standard size, meaning it would not fit... good thing I had brought my own supply of X-large ones. I put one on, and from the same source, I applied some lube to my dick and to his hole. Knowing full well that I needed to tread carefully, I let my cockhead rest against his hole for a bit, then carefully applied more pressure as I entered. To my surprise, Michel seemed to be an experienced bottom, and my cock slipped in without trouble. His eyes opened, and he whispered "Come on, show me what you've got"... so we transitioned into a nice fucking position, and I started to fuck him in earnest. The slapping sounds resonated louder and louder in our little alcove. God knows how long we had been at it, but it all ended with some final thrusts and then copious amounts of both our DNA spilled on Michel's sixpack. We collapsed and looked at each other in awe. This had been truly divine.