Anonymous - The Lascivious Monk

The priest shook her. Miss Gertrud did not move. Her old body was limp and seemed lifeless.

“Well, now, I can't let her lie here on the carpet,” mused Pineraide, “that would be sort of inhumane. I'll just have to pick her up and put her on the bed.”

His strong arms picked her up as if she were light as a feather, and he carried her to his bed. The old lady seemed to be choking and thus it became necessary to loosen her corset. For this, he had to take off her dress and pull off her petticoats. He was pleasingly surprised when he noticed that her skin was soft and very white.

“I'll be damned,” he mumbled. “Who would have thought that the old hag still has so much desirable flesh on her body. I have only known her for two days, and I haven't really had a chance to get to know her. But it seems that the old dame deserves more credit than I gave her. She must be at least fifty years old, she could easily be my mother, and she looks very well preserved. Her face is wrinkled and ugly, but her tits sure have a lot of mileage left in them. Jesus, these old crones are full of weird surprises. I wonder if the rest of her is still useful… I'll take off the rest of her clothes. After all, I have good reason, because it seems to me that she is about to choke to death.”

And the priest began to undress his old housekeeper. He first wanted to take off her horrible corset, but that was not as easy as it seemed. He had to remove her dress which was difficult, because the old lady remained completely limp. When he had finally succeeded, he discovered that the rest of her clothing was rather skimpy. He had expected a lot of knit, warm underwear. Instead, he saw two milk-white breasts and well-rounded shoulders.

He began to regain some of his courage. His boldness began to excite him, and his curiosity spurred him on to divest the woman of the remainder of her clothing. He quickly pulled down her petticoats and stockings, and then he began the hard task of unhooking that terrible corset. All she wore now was a thin chemise. Having gone this far, the priest decided that he might as well go all the way. His housekeeper would be fighting mad anyway when she woke up.

So, after he had first tasted the delights of a young girl and a mature woman, after he had taken the cherry of a fifteen-year-old virgin and fucked a hot and willing mother, after he had seen a rosy, tight, barely hairy little pussy and also sampled a strong, well-trained cunt, after he had crawled over firm breasts, white thighs, squeezed hard nipples, licked navels, assholes and sucked the delightful cracks of mother and daughter, after he had even seriously contemplated buggering a three-year-old little boy, the priest was getting horny again upon contemplating the more than ripe, helplessly limp body of his fifty-year-old housekeeper. By God, it was true, the more he looked at her, the stiffer his cock became.

And the good Father Pineraide was not the man to let this marvelous chance slip by unused.

There she was, the old woman, stretched out mother-naked upon the bed, in a deep faint, and looking like an innocent newborn babe.

“This,” the priest mused, “was, of course, only in a manner of speaking.”

She was flat on her back, and she showed no intention of returning back to life. The priest called her once more, before he began his thorough examination.

“Miss Gertrud… Miss Gertrud, wake up! Don't you notice what I am doing?… no?… can you hear me at all?”

But Gertrud did not move. She was limp and lifeless, completely relaxed, and stark naked.

“Her heart is beating, her hands are warm… don't be afraid, old boy… I can examine her without fear. Let's begin with her face… She sure looks funny. Sallow, wrinkled skin and then suddenly that fair, white body… I could almost swear that she is looking at me; her eyes are half-open, and they look clear. They are actually friendly eyes, not mean at all. Pastor Duretron, who has kept her in his household for over fifteen years as his… ah… cousin, surely had no reason to complain… her mouth is no longer beautiful, and her lips are a little weak and slack… I bet the old Duretron has shoved his prick in between them rather often. That mouth is made to suck cock. A few little prickly hairs here and there, no teeth and soft gums. Oh, just that mouth gumming the tip of your prick must feel good. Seems to me the right pressure to make it last long. It must feel like fucking a chicken-the head wouldn't be bothered by sharp teeth… yes, yes, the mouth of a young girl is only there to be kissed and for tongue play, but for a delicious sucking nothing can beat the toothless mouth of an old woman…”

After he had thoroughly inspected Gertrud's head, the parson's eyes strayed downward. It's true, the old woman's dugs could not compare with Theresa's firm little boobies, nor with the huge tits of her mother, but they were not bad at all… still fairly firm, and the rosy tips were quite youthful. Probably because the old woman had never suckled a child. So, on his way down, the priest pressed a little kiss upon each of the rosy buds and, much to his surprise, they immediately became firm and stretched their little heads up high. A deep sigh escaped Gertrud's throat. But that was all. She remained lifeless as ever and did not regain her consciousness.

“That's a rather strange phenomenon,” said the priest, “here we have a case of a soul, obviously sound asleep, and a body which is, equally as obvious, quite awake. It quivers under my caresses, and it jerks when I squeeze it. Truly, God's creatures are strange and incomprehensible. We can but bless them.”

And, philosophizing to himself, the priest continued to stroke, kiss and caress the tips of Gertrud's breasts. His hands carefully cupped the big mounds and he licked alternately one nipple and then the other, enjoying the sight of them shrinking and jutting out again. He parted the twin globes to press a kiss upon the cleavage when he saw something that struck him momentarily dumb.

“I'll be damned,” he whispered, after he regained his composure. “So there is Gertrud's secret! A big tattoo! A priest, sitting on a chair, a woman who is being screwed in the behind and a masturbating guardian angel who is hovering over them. That surely must be old Duretron, shoving it up Miss Gertrud's ass. I can't believe my eyes. And that masturbating angel… it's almost sacrilege! It makes me horny, though…

“One thing is sure. My little secret is safe with Miss Gertrud. I caught her, so to speak, red-breasted. I doubt if she's ever going to give me any trouble…”

Quite at ease now, the priest leisurely continued his examination of the old woman's body. Finally he reached the point which interested him most, namely, her cunt. But Miss Gertrud's thighs were firmly closed and obscured what he wanted to see. He pulled them carefully apart which was not difficult at all. To his surprise he saw a beautiful, gray bush which looked like a snow landscape.

“Oh, that is wonderful!” exclaimed the priest. “By God, that was worth the trouble. I am glad to see this fifty-year-old hole. Now I can compare. First I had Theresa's little pussy with a few sparse golden hairs… spring. Then I enjoyed the mother's slit, covered with a golden forest… the summer! And now my housekeeper shows me wintertime! But what a pleasant winter. Truly, the old one has a twat that really makes me horny as hell!”

During his monologue, Pineraide had shoved his finger into the snowy bush and slowly his hand wandered into the grotto which was hidden by it. He found a yawning gap. His hand went farther, disappearing up to his wrist. A large tickler jumped playfully toward him.

Now the good Father no longer looked at Miss Gertrud's face. He was completely absorbed by the gray-haired cunt. This was good, because Miss Gertrud was having trouble not to blink her eyelids.