Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

About ten minutes later, there was a discreet tap at the door, but Father Lawrence made no sign of having heard it; his breathing was regular, his eyes were closed, and his massive organ stood up like a totem pole. Presently, the door opened very slightly, and the Widow Bernard peeped inside; not hearing a sound from her new lodger, she opened it a little more and stepped inside the room. At once she beheld the mighty protuberance, and her brown eyes widened, whilst a delicious rosy color suffused her cheeks. She approached the bed oil tiptoe and bent down to stare at this symbol of virility, her lips forming an 0 of astonishment. At that very moment, Father Lawrence opened his eyes and regarded her.

“Is something amiss, Madame Bernard?” he asked.

Her blushes spread as she hastily turned her gaze from his loins to his chest, and she stammered, “Oh – n – no, Y – Your Reverence, I – I merely came in to ask whether you might not wish something to eat when you waken. Not knowing that you were to board with me, I have very little in my larder save for myself, so I shall have to go to market to prepare delicacies for your evening repast. And – and I wished to ask you what your preference was.”

“I shall eat whatever you eat, Madame Bernard. Do not go to any trouble on my account, I pray you.”

“As – as Y – Your Reverence wishes,” Madame Bernard stammered. But she made no attempt to withdraw, and once again, as if by hypnosis, her eyes were compelled to turn back to that upraised structure which prodded up the thin stuff of his drawers to bursting point.

He returned her gaze levelly as he lay, with head pillowed on his folded arms. “Did you wish to tell me anything else, Madame?” he politely inquired.

“N – no – Y – Your Reverence,” she quavered. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her sumptuous bosom seemed to rise and fall with an erratic rhythm. The fiery hue of her blushes had spread to her throat and dainty little ears by now.

Wishing to draw her from this curious state of fixation which rendered her incapable of moving from the spot, Father Lawrence gave her a long meaningful look and then pursued, in a calm tone, “You stare at my cock, Madame Bernard, as if it were a unique phenomenon. I do not seek to offend your gentle modesty, but deem it necessary to explain that this condition is natural to me when I am completely at my ease and most often when I seek repose. I would not have you think that it is meant by way of assault upon your undisputed virtue.”

“Ohh, Y – Your Reverence – I – I did not th – think that at all,” the blushing widow gasped, “for certainly a man of Your Reverence's quality would never deign to take notice of so lowly a person as myself. But – but your c – cock is so s – swollen that I could not help looking at it.”

“You must not disparage yourself, my daughter,” was his mellow reply. “Your kindness in granting me shelter during my sojourn in Languecuisse at once elevates you above many in this charming village. Besides which, you are handsome and comely of face and body, and I marvel that no righteous man has not sought to replace your late husband.”

Hortense Bernard lowered her eyes and faintly retorted, “I – I have tried to find a man who would take the place of my poor Gervaise, but there are few who can compare with him, Your Reverence. Of – of course, he had his weaknesses too -”

“As do we all, my daughter.”

“Yes, Your Reverence. I was going to say, my poor Gervaise did not always come to bed with me as often as I would have wished, though he was very much a man like Your Reverence – I – I mean -”

She turned aside, woefully embarrassed to have been so bold, but Father Lawrence, far from being wroth over her bawdiness, encouraged it by pursuing: “You do not offend me, my daughter, in likening me to a worthy consort who gave you heaven, and it is pleasing when man and wife take satisfaction, for true marriages are made in heaven, and it is pleasing when man and wife take joy of each other.”

“I – I am sure of that, Your Reverence. It was only that Gervaise – well, he did not take his joy when it was offered, and we often quarreled over that. Looking back now, I repent my sinfulness, Your Reverence. I – I asked him to – to do things to me that he swore were not proper even between husband and wife. And so he took to drink and forsook my bed.”

“Nothing that is done in love between man and woman can be improper, my daughter. It is a pity he did not comprehend this great maxim.”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed, twisting her fingers nervously about and still averting her scarlet face from his gaze.

“Perhaps it will ease your troubled heart to reveal to me the nature of the dissension between you, and your deceased spouse, Madame Bernard,” he prompted.

“Ohh, Y – Your Reverence, I should never dare!” she breathed.

“But unless I know, I can hardly prescribe for your distress, my daughter. Come, I have told you I am on vacation from my order for this entire month, so regard me rather as a sympathetic friend and not a Grand Inquisitor,” he affably remonstrated.

“You – you will not sc – scold me or sermonize me?” she whispered.

“Not one whit, I promise. Quickly, speak!” he urged, sitting up on the edge of the bed and taking her trembling hand.

She hung her head like a little girl caught in mischief and finally blurted out, in a very tremulous voice, “I – I sometimes wished Gervaise to – to take me from – from behind, in the way I – I have seen animals couple in the field.”

“Why, that is but following the example set by nature. How, then, could he take offense?”

The buxom young widow squirmed and turned her face aside, while she furtively tried to draw her hand away from his, but Father Lawrence held on tenaciously, persisting: “Be honest with me, my daughter. Once you have disclosed the secrets you have hidden in your mind because they trouble you, they will no longer be a source of distress to you.”

“Y – yes, Y – Your Reverence,” Hortense Bernard stammered, more and more embarrassed. “It – it wasn't only taking me from behind that – that my husband objected you, you see.”

“But I do not see at all, my daughter. Be more explicit!”

“Oh, d – dear! It – it is so difficult for me to speak of such delicate things to – to a man of the cl – cloth, Your Reverence.”

“But that is precisely why it will be helpful to you to reveal your problems, my daughter, since men of my ilk are more worldly and comprehend better the complex difficulties which beset the uninformed. Speak, I pray you!”

“I – I wished him to – to put his c – cock into the other place, Y – Your Reverence.”

“The other place,” Father Lawrence feigned ignorance of what the comely widow meant. “Why do you not show me, for actual illustration is always enlightening. Take off your skirt, and indicate to me this other place to which you allude.”

By this time, his cock had attained its full girth and length, was even more formidably rigid before her dilated, humid eyes. Hortense Bernard drew a long quivering breath, and then, eyes downcast, tremblingly unhooked her skirt and let it fall about her trim ankles. It was at once apparent that she wore nothing under the skirt, for the soft curves of her carnation-skinned belly appeared, marked by a wide and shallow navel-niche, and then below a thicket of light brown curls which flourished most luxuriantly over the plump aperture of her cunt. Before he could exclaim upon this revelation, she had turned her back, and, putting a quivering forefinger towards the narrow, shadowy groove which separated two magnificently ripe, upstanding round hemispheres, whispered, “It – it was in here, Y – Your Reverence, I – I wished Gervaise to put his – his th – thing. But he said it was wickedness to do so. I entreated him to do so as a mark of his husbandly affection, for I was always willing, nay, eager, for him to possess me the regular way. Yet he rebuked me whenever I implored that boon.”