Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

“Oh, yes, Your Reverence. He found the cot quite satisfactory, and said that he wished to go to bed at once for a good night's rest after his long journey.”

“Good. Then we are alone together, are we not?”

“To the best of my knowledge, Your Reverence.”

This piece of information made Pere Mourier decide to dispense with meaningless conversation. He rose from his chair and caught the handsome wench about the waist, then put his fleshy lips to the jutting tip of one luscious breast as it prodded the thin stuff of her blouse, and bestowed a smacking kiss upon that luscious tidbit. “I must confess to you, Madame Desiree,” he panted, “that this afternoon I was smitten by your grace and nimbleness in the cask, and it was this which decided me to offer you employment in my humble rectory. I said to myself also that it was a great pity that a strapping young and comely woman like yourself should languish for affection, since you have been bereaved so long without solace.”

Desiree giggled and her hands cupped his florid Cheeks as she let herself be handled, for now his pudgy fingers had taken possession of her opulent backside and were squeezing the resilient globes through her thin skirt. “Your Reverence is much too kind to a poor widow,” she artfully murmured. “Does Your Reverence wish me to accompany him to bed now?”

“You matchless woman, I knew I had made no mistake in employing you for my lonely household,” cried the delighted priest as he crushed his lips to hers and drew her tightly against him. His hands kneaded her voluptuous backside, while at the same time his savagely erect weapon jabbed through the silk cassock against her furry crotch which itself was shielded by a single thickness of cloth. “Yes, yes, that is my dearest wish, Madame Desiree, for as you can no doubt feel at this very moment, I am longing to fuck you!”

“It would be a great honor for me, Your Reverence, to do my poor best to satisfy your longings. But this is just what I was speaking of a moment ago. Do you not see that a shy maiden like Laurette would be nigh unto swooning if the worthy patron or a far younger and more adequate gentleman like yourself were to make his wants known to her just as you are doing to me now?”

“Your humor enchants me, my beautiful daughter,” the fat priest chortled, as he began to kiss her lips and cheeks with moist, smacking osculations as testimony of his excited approval of this paragon of pulchritude. “And I shall try to be worthy of the compliment you have just paid me. Of a truth, I modestly admit that I am somewhat more powerful in amatory conduct than the worthy patron of this little village. So hurry, then, and let us strip to the skin so that I may demonstrate my vigor!”

He released the Amazonian housekeeper, and hurriedly drew off his cassock and then his drawers, standing hairy and fat and naked, his enormous cock thrusting out in ferocious impatience. Desiree as swiftly divested herself of blouse and skirt, then sank down on her knees as if in awe of this fearsome member. “What a mighty cock,” she breathed, her eyes wide and glowing in admiration. “It will surely tax me sorely, but I must feel it in my spot. It has been so long since I have known the feeling of a vigorous male shaft cramming into my tight little slit that I am almost fainting with anticipation, Your Reverence! But first I must kiss it in my gratitude for its master's kindness in giving me this post of trust in his household. Do I have Your Reverence's leave?”

“Yes, yes, my daughter, but be quick, because I am so overwrought by the naughtiness of that little vixen Laurette that my powers of self-control are already on the wane,” he hoarsely admonished. Desiree put her fingers to his gnarled, hairy balls and tickled them a moment, whilst her full red lips nuzzled the huge plum which was the head of his massively turgid weapon. He uttered a groan of tortured delight at this improvisation. “Hurry, hurry, I am fairly bursting, and I must shoot it all into your narrow channel, Madame Desiree,” he panted.

“But a moment more, Your Reverence,” she purred, looking up at him with a deferential and adoring gaze. “It is so long since I have seen so magnificent a cock that surely you cannot deny me the joy of examining it and conjecturing what it will be like once it thrusts between my soft bare legs. Have patience with me, Your Reverence, for this is only my first day as your housekeeper, and it is too soon for me to have learned all your habits.”

With this, the wily Amazonian widow took hold of her magnificent naked breasts and cupped their satiny inner sides right over the head of the shaft of Pere Mourier's enormous prong. Pressing her hands firmly against her naked love-globes, she thus imprisoned the holy man's throbbing cock within the velvety, warm cleft, at the same time exclaiming: “Oh, Your Reverence, how hot and hard it is! Do rub yourself back and forth a little so that I may feel its wonders against my bare skin before you put it into me!”

The naked priest was shuddering with sexual fever; he plunged his fingers into the long chestnut tresses of his naked, buxom housekeeper, his face screwed up in torment, and began to comply with her devious request. But no sooner had he managed two or three rubbings back and forth between the squeezed-together globes of her satiny bosom then he uttered a hoarse cry and shot forth all his seed. “The devil take it, my daughter, you have made me lose my strength,” he whined. The housekeeper promptly rose and scurried to procure a handkerchief from the drawer of his dresser, with which she sponged her sperm-glistening bosom and chest and throat. Wheedlingly she returned to him, a solicitous look on her boldly lovely features, cooing, “I beg Your Reverence's pardon, for truly I did not mean to offend you. Yet Your Reverence does not need any further proof to me that he is wonderfully endowed to satisfy my needs. There will be other times for us, have no fear of that, for it is a great honor and privilege for me to serve Your Reverence in any way I can.”

His cock was limp and flaccid now, a sorry sight after its once ferocious estate. Pere Mourier sighed and shook his head: “Alas, I fear it may be a sign that the moment is not propitious. It is not seemly that I should entertain carnal thoughts upon my housekeeper, for it would appear to you that my association with that forward young minx stimulated me to unnatural desires which I sought to vent upon your defenseless person. I shall go to sleep, my daughter.” Another weary sigh as he sank down into bed and promptly closed his eyes.

The naked beauty came to his bedside, bent down and applied a chaste kiss on his forehead, murmuring, “May Your Reverence have sweet dreams, then. I will prepare a delicious breakfast for you and your guest tomorrow.”

“My mind is not at this moment on my stomach,” the fat priest dolefully quipped, “but you have my blessing all the same. A good night to you, Madame Desiree.”

“And to you, Your Reverence,” the naked beauty made a curtsy. Then swiftly she put back on her blouse and skirt and left the room.

I followed her, as you may well comprehend. For now I understood what the good Dames Lucille and Margot had meant when they had told their husbands that there were ways of defeating the lustful purpose of the old patron if they should have been summoned to service him as part of their prize for winning the grape-trampling contest. The Amazonian beauty had ingeniously defeated Pere Mourier's determination to fuck her by the simple dint of draining off his spunk before it could even reach her matrix. And now she was on her way to the little room which Father Lawrence occupied; this ruse of hers had been perpetrated so that she might keep a late nocturnal tryst with this vigorous English ecclesiast who had so taken her fancy and already plowed her furrow in a way that joyed her.