The monk of the Order of Kikimora felt shame as he faced the image of Saint Dziemona and he begged her forgiveness. After a momentary pause he continued to relate his misery, caused by that demon Pheromone or Pherien whatever. The monk continued to tell of his road of degradation, one that led him in later days to be in fear of woman, especially to those that went 'sniff, sniff’ when he was near.
The friar told of the time in the heat of a summer's day when he was asked direction by a known and well-respected matron of the faculty of philosophy at the university. Before he was able to point a finger to the direction of the route, 'sniff, sniff' was in her breathing. He told how the sensually craved matron pulled him into her fine automobile and gave him a good lesson in Jung and Adler, all under the jiggling of her well-endowed diddies and the pumping of her plump thighs as her cunnus gripped his privy parts.
Horror was in the voice of the man of piety as he told of that incident at the movies accompanied by his girlfriend Zesta. "My Zesta was a fine figure of woman, hefty and strong as an ox, but with only one fault: a nasal impediment. The film was a romantic thriller that catered to maidens of all ages. It was full of passion mixed with action that heated the air, which, off course, invited the devil Pheromone or Pherien whatever to spread his scent over me. 'Sniff, sniff' was in the air. I was saved from being pumped the third time by maddened and semi-nude females through the uppercuts of my darling Zesta."
The good friar made the sign of Wakona mixed with the benediction to Tirawa in the rites of Seconda before continuing. "So it went through that short period my dear Saint Dziewona. The fiendish Pheromone or Pherien whatever would spread his sensuous odor and 'sniff, sniff'. My overworked little brother would then be reddened in effort as it plummeted into the depth of an eager little sister.
He listed a few of his miseries while under the diabolic cover of that demon. Of how the mud of a back lot lubricated his dingle dangle as a sensually craved housewife interfered in his work of welding a pipe. He was taught the rudiments of 'ABC' as a shy spinster trapped him in the public library when he was repairing the air conditioning unit; it was quite embarrassing as the grade school teacher pumped the lessons in the sight of an appreciative audience. The time when he landed in the hospital when he was in a taxi driven by zealous feminine creature that went 'sniff, sniff’ during the heat of the day; she popped her buttons in lust and her full-blown titties lifted her hardened brownish nipples.
And so forth and so on went the tale of misery!
The good friar of the Order of Kikimora paused momentarily in his confession to the image of the patroness. Then he dropped to one knee and made the sign of Wakona. As he prayed for salvation he heard the words quietly whispered in the sanctity of the chapel, 'sniff, sniff'.
The good monk lifted up his cowled face and he saw the lustful eyes of the image of Saint Dziemona winking at him...
Norman A. Rubin of Afula, Israel is a former correspondent for the Continental News Service, USA. He's written on Near East culture and crafts, archaeology, history and politics; religious history and rites, etc. He's been featured in publications world wide - Jerusalem Post, Israel - Coin News, Minerva, Oriental Arts, etc. England - Ararat, Letter Arts Review, Archaeology, etc. USA - Spotlight, Japan - International B, Hong Kong. He's been a freelance writer for the past sixteen years of short stories of all genres - mystery, horror, humour, sexual customs, etc.