Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 3

“Oh, oui, oui, oui… ooohhh – aaahhh, mon Pere, mon Pere!! C'est merveilleux!” Georgette squealed.

“And finally, to deny this analogy altogether,” he continued a great deal more forcefully, “when this candle by which you would simulate my pole should approach so soft and silky-furred a candle-snuffer as is yours, it would burn it piteously. Whereas my pole does not burn at the wick, yet it burns indefatigably all down its length when it is nestled entirely within your sweet candle-snuffer – thus!”

I heard him grunt as he doubtless shoved his pole forward into Georgette's candle-snuffer, for the baggage moaned and groaned and hugged him and then showered him with a thousand little sucking kisses to express her ecstasy.

“How your bottom squirms and jiggles, my daughter,” he gasped, still more hoarsely than before, “my hands can scarcely steady it; it is like the rudder of a ship tossed hither and yon upon angry waters, hurling itself this way and that! But I will bring it balance and equilibrium, my daughter! Do you hold tight onto me while my pole guides you through these turbulent seas to find at last the appeasement for which you burn and for which equally I burn to bestow upon you!”

And then, dear reader, there followed a chorus of groans and gasps, and huggings and kissings, of sighs and murmurs, until finally I heard Georgette wail out, “Oh, yes, it is so much better than any candle! It is bigger and thicker and hotter by far than any candle! Oh, hurry, hurry, make me burn all inside of my little con!”

“I will, I will! Have patience, my daughter!” he gasped. “My pole a candle? There, take this, and this again!” At each 'this' he must have given a lunge of his formidable pole, for Georgette squealed as if she were being drawn and quartered. But it was not a squeal of pain but rather one of indescribable carnal bliss.

And then there came his long-drawn groan as his wick was dampened by that rapacious and insatiable candle-snuffer which Georgette housed between her plump straining thighs.

They sighed together like a pair of turtle doves as at last he must have drawn himself out, well tapped for the nonce. And then after a lengthy pause, he said, in a wan voice which suggested that he had bestowed perhaps more spunk upon her pussy than he had intended to, “If you must keep that candle as memento, Georgette, do you at least take a pairing knife and whittle it in some reasonable semblance of my pole. Yet you would do well to begin with a thicker candle, my daughter, for even though at this moment my own pole is vastly diminished down to the leanness of the taper which brought us to this lair of Bacchus, remember that unlike the candle, it can swell and aggrandize itself to mighty measurements. And now, a last kiss, my daughter, and then let us drink this good Anjou together to each other's health and fortune and to a safe voyage across the Channel for my pole.”

A languid sigh and a murmured, “Oui, oui, mon Pere!” from Georgette told me in conclusion that she had at last grasped Father Lawrence's little play on words. For she had assuredly been thoroughly poled, and by now she needs must know the pole was by far superior to any candle.

When at last Father Lawrence and that forward hussy Georgette had emerged from the wine cellar, the worthy landlord was already coming down the stairs from his own room to ascertain his daughter's whereabouts so that she might aid him in preparing the evening meal for all their guests. With some little experience in the matter, the good English ecclesiastic had first ascended from the wine cellar and engaged his host in chitchat, while the sly minx slipped off towards the kitchen. But the landlord was in a most irritable mood and because his eyes were wandering about even while Father Lawrence was engaging him in conversation, he chanced to espy Georgette. Whereupon he angrily bellowed for her to give account of herself and to explain why, although he had called out her name no fewer than three times, she had now come to answer that summons.

“I feel that I must take the blame for that, my worthy host,” the ever gallant Father Lawrence responded. “Since my three wards are young, mere babes scarcely weaned away from their mothers' milk, and since they asked me whether they might be permitted this one indulgence of good wine to drink a farewell toast to la belle France, I did engage Georgette to accompany me to the cellar there to seek the beatific and moderate vintage which would not have intoxicating effect upon these virginal damsels. Your daughter, my good man, displayed such good knowledge of the wines of this country that I was rapt in listening to her and in considering one over the other, and therefore I fear I kept her longer than I should.”

With this, he drew out his purse and laid down a piece of gold. “I wish to settle my score, and you will of course include the supper which your daughter will bring presently to my wards. To my reckoning, also, whatever nourishment you have for a humble priest this evening to give him strength before he sets foot upon the deck of the vessel that takes us to England.”

Seeing that his host hesitated, he took out yet another gold piece, and with a lordly gesture clinked it down upon the first, saying, “Whatever there is left from those two coins, let it be as a pourboire for you and Georgette to drink my health and to wish me well when I am embarked upon the rolling sea of the Channel.”

This grandiloquent gesture erased the final suspicion from Georgette's father's brain, for he burst into a torrent of French expletives, the gist of which was that in all his years as owner of this humble inn, he had never entertained so worthy and gracious a guest as Father Lawrence, no, not even nobility. “And it has been good for my wayward daughter, who is an only child, may heaven defend her,” he added effusively.

“Amen to that!” Father Lawrence interposed in his fluent French, sending a surreptitious glance towards the bridling hoyden, who pretended to busy herself with pouring out wine from an ewer.

“As I was saying,” her father obsequiously pursued, “the presence here of Votre Grace has brought great peace of mind to me, for, look you, this strapping and handsome demoiselle makes calf's eyes at every man that wears trousers. Ah, but Votre Grace, when you first entered my humble inn, I told myself that now Georgette would be under your protection and would be blessed as well as saved from any wrongdoing.”

“And so she has been, for she is a worthy girl, with only her father's best interests at heart. I have already given her my blessing, and that, too, was why she was delayed in responding to your parental summons.”

“You are much too kind, Votre Grace. Georgette, hasten to the kitchen and make certain that the repast Son Eminence has ordered for his three young wards will be brought to them directly. See to it also that he has the very best of what is cooking this eventide.”

“I would not give him anything that is not of the very best, mon Pere,” Georgette cooed. “Ah, I wish I could have seen her winsome face when she responded so ambiguously to her father. For of course the French term for 'father' is exactly the same that a reverent and dutiful demoiselle accords a man of the cloth such as Father Lawrence was! And she had certainly given the latter all of her best and most energetically and ardently as well, unless my sense of hearing had totally deceived me. That is how, by the way, I was able to discern that she was pouring from an ewer, because the splash of the liquid from such a container is more fulsome than from a mere bottle. You see, we fleas are not only the pestiferous creatures which you humans upbraid and swear at when we sting you; and remember that when we do, it is only to prolong our own lives, and that we take only a very tiny bit of blood, far less injurious to your systems than, if I may be precise, the vitality which Father Lawrence lost each time he jetted his bubbling spunk into the sweet cunt of a novice like Georgette. Not quite two hours later, supper had been partaken of by all concerned, Georgette's father had outdone himself in florid rhetoric to bid his worthy and distinguished guest adieu, and Louisette, Denise, and Marisia, demurely attired for their journey out upon the Channel this night, got into the carriage which the landlord himself had graciously summoned to take them to the wharf where their vessel awaited.