Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

“Alas, Father, I am twenty-eight. In Languecuisse, this is almost old age for a woman. The young men have eyes only for the damsels like that little Laurette you just met. She is nineteen, and that too is much older than is customary for the time of marriage in this region.”

“All the more reason for her being wed as soon as possible, and she will be,” Father Lawrence avowed. His hands slipped back now over Desiree's jutting, boldly ripe bottom cheeks, which he squeezed through her thin skirt. “Of a truth, my daughter, you do not feel to be much older than Laurette yourself. And you tell me that there is no man hereabouts whom you deem sufficient to give you physical joy?”

“I said not so far, Your Reverence,” Desiree murmured. She stared into his eyes, her red lips curving in a comprehending smile. And she moved closer to him, letting his hands wander as they would. Then she uttered a little gasp and looked down. Between their bodies, there was already a polarity: the cassock of the good father bulged out tremendously from his loins. Furtively, the beautiful chestnut haired Amazon slipped her hand down to discover what this could signify, and her fingers tentatively closed over the protuberance. “Oh Your Reverence, I cannot believe it!” she ejaculated in a tremulous voice.

“What cannot you believe, my daughter?” His voice had hoarsened noticeably by this time, as might well be imagined. And his fingers grew bolder still kneading and squeezing the luscious contours of Desiree's bottom through the thin stuff of her skirt.

“That – that you are such a man as heaven should have sent me long ago,” the Amazon brazenly murmured, looking deeply into his eyes, and her red lips moist and parted with obvious invitation.

“But things are not what they seem at all times, my daughter,” he banteringly replied. Perhaps it would be well to judge by actuality rather than by appearance.”

“But I would not dare offend Your Reverence,” Desiree apologetically murmured.

“That which is done sincerely is not offensive, my dear child,” he smilingly retorted.

At this, the forward young widow stooped, caught up the hems of his cassock and furled the silken garment to his waist, holding it there with one hand while she rummaged rather expertly at his drawers. In a trice she had liberated the anatomy of his sexual weapon, and her eyes widened with amazement at the sight.

Father Lawrence was prodigiously equipped. In full erection at her touch – for Desiree lost no time in clasping the middle of the shaft with her strong fingers to determine that it was in truth actuality and not appearance – his penis must have measured at least seven and a half inches in length. It was admirably thick to go with this; and the head, which rose out of a narrow groove of circumcision, was oval-shaped and slightly elongated. Its lips were thin and tightly shut together, but they were already twitching with carnal irritation from the bold enclaspment of that beautiful hand.

“I cannot believe my eyes, Your Reverence,” she exclaimed, her voice slightly trembling. “I truly would not have believed it!”

“Are you of a mind to test its measure, my daughter?” he softly inquired.

“Oh, yes, if Your Reverence would so honor a poor humble widow,” she breathed.

“Then you had best make the door sure lest your new master come in upon us.”

“I will do that at once, Your Reverence. But do not worry about Pere Mourier. He and the maiden Laurette will take a long and devious stroll before he reaches her abode, for he wishes to impress upon her the need for chastity. Besides, after he has gone to sleep, I will come to you again and we can have more time – that is, if I do not anger you by my sinfulness.”

“But you have committed no sin, my daughter. Yours is a curious inquisitiveness which both delights and inflames me.”

She hurried to the door and threw the bolt. Then swiftly she divested herself of her thin skirt and blouse, under which she was naked as she had been in the cask that afternoon. She stood before him, hands on her side, and tilted back, blushing deliciously, proud in the knowledge that his eyes roved over her sumptuous breasts, her suave, well dimpled belly, the thick luxuriant garden of dark chestnut curls which covered her mound and disappeared between her thighs, and those robust yet beautifully proportioned thighs themselves, seemingly so capable of crushing a man's ribs between their fiery embrace.

With a gasp of admiration, Father Lawrence drew off his cassock and neatly hung it from a peg on the door of the little room which would shelter him this night. Taking off his shoes and divesting himself of his drawers, he stood before her equally naked, his body wiry yet vigorous, nowhere showing emaciation or meagerness or age. And least of all did the fulminating structures of his swollen cock evince the least flaccidity of the flesh which is so common to men who attain their two score of years and more. Desiree let a sigh of admiration escape her as she moved towards him, her big breasts jiggling with each step. Her nipples were already turgid coral points of erotic anticipation, and voluptuous shivers ran along her thighs and calves at the thought of what awaited her.

She put out one soft hand to cup his heavy, hairy balls, overcharged with amorous essence, and she exalted another sigh. Meanwhile, Father Lawrence, rather than let this judging be one-sided, circled her waist with his left arm and extended his right forefinger toward the thick bush of her pubis, and began to feel for the soft pink lips of Venus themselves. Her slow little giggle and a lascivious squirming of her juicily rounded, sumptuous bottom cheeks told him that he had attained his objective. He began to rim the fleshy, soft and already moistening lips of her cunt with a lingering deliberation which at once told me, expert as I have become in such matters, that he was by no means a novice in the sweet games of Cythera.

Now she used both hands to cup and rub and massage the broad, hot, thickly veined shaft of his organ, and her breasts rose and fell with an erratic tumult as she conjectured just how that weapon would feel within her cunt.

“It is, so big, so thick and hard and hot, Your Reverence!” she whispered, “voulez-vous bien me baiser?” (which, translated, means “Do you really want to fuck me?”).

“Once a sword is drawn, it must either draw blood or be sheathed satisfyingly,” he quipped. “And since you tell me you are a widow, it follows that you are no virgin, and therefore my blade will not bleed you, my daughter. Let us proceed to sheath it, then, to your complete satisfaction.”

“Oh, yes, Your Reverence,” Desiree exclaimed.

Now it was his turn to use both hands as his lingers found the plump, palpitating lips of Desiree's cunt and drew them apart. Meanwhile, the beautiful chestnut haired Amazon daintily put both forefingers on the sides of his cock and thus steered him towards her orifice. The elongated, naked pink lip of his sword forced its way through the thick, curly ringlets which still shielded her secret bower, and then he gave himself a little forward jerk and engaged a good half of his shaft within her channel. Desiree uttered a cry of bliss: “Ohh Your Reverence! It stretches me, it pierces me! Oh, do not stop now, put all of it into me quickly!”

“With the greatest of good will, my daughter,” he told her as he took hold of her naked bottom cheeks at the base, sinking his fingers eagerly into that succulent warm flesh, and thrust himself to the very hilt till their hairs mingled. Vigorous and strong though she was, the naked Amazon nonetheless had to clutch him with her arms locked round his shoulders, for she had begun to sway and to tremble at the very first dig of his prong into her quivering chasm. She closed her eyes, her nostrils opening and closing furiously as carnal desire swept through her every limb. “Oh, it fills me, it stretches and digs so deliciously,” she moaned in her rapture.