Anonymous - The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

The English ecclesiastic's eyes blazed with avid concupiscence at the sight of those bewitchingly jutting bottom globes, and promptly extended a hand to stroke and caress their velvety rotundities. Hortense Bernard started, and looked round with widened eyes at this gentle caress; in an access of false modesty, doubtless, she had clapped her other hand over her furry slit. “He was wrong to deny you what you sought, my daughter,” he at last pronounced in a voice that was hoarse and unsteady, “particularly since you did not shirk your expected marital duties. You sought only a special mark of affection, yet he pitilessly denied you.”

“Yes, that is true, Your Reverence,” the beautiful half-naked widow sniffed.

“Do you still harbor these desires, my child? Do you still long to be buggered?”

Hortense Bernard closed her eyes, and a long voluptuous shiver rippled down her back as she faintly avowed, “Y – yes, Y – Your R – Reverence.”

“Then I will offer myself to accommodate your needs, my child. Unless, to be sure, my offer offends you?”

“Oh no!” the brown-haired widow breathed, glancing down again at his mighty cock, and the tip of her pink tongue delicately fringed the corners of her quivering lips by way of excited expectation of this unforeseen boon granted by her new boarder, whose estate as spiritual dignitary did her humble abode such honor.

“Then I must prepare the terrain at first. Do you lie across my lap, my daughter,” he instructed. As soon as she had blushingly complied, he circled her waist with his left arm, raised his right hand and dealt her a sonorous slap on the ripe summit of one of her velvety naked bottom-cheeks which left a bright pink outline of his chastening palm.

“Ohh!” she gasped, glancing fearfully back, doubtless wondering how this interlude was to lead her to the Sodomitic bliss she had so long yearned for.

“Do not move, my daughter,” he bade her, applying a lusty second slap on the other nether globe which left an even brighter mark on her fair soft skin, “a little spanking will warm your backside and arouse your blood and muscular tone, thereby preparing you for what would otherwise be a somewhat trying ordeal.”

Thus edified, Hortense Bernard closed her eyes and clenched her little fists, submitting herself to this “preparation.” Her naked loins wriggled lasciviously over Father Lawrence's frenziedly bulging crotch, no doubt taxing his own herculean powers of self-control to the very utmost, but manfully he continued despite this tantalizing distraction to apply vigorous slaps all over the twin hemispheres of her succulent rump till it was scarlet and she was sobbing and wriggling and kicking in the most exciting way.

“Now I think we may proceed to the gratification of your secret desires, my daughter,” he remarked in a thick voice that shook with lust.

“Do you remove your blouse and get upon the bed on all fours, your legs well spread apart to ease the penetration.”

Slowly the young widow clambered up from his lap, and, after first rubbing her flaming bare bottom energetically, divested herself of her blouse and was naked as the day of her birth. Getting onto the bed, head bowed, palms bearing down on the counterpane, knees widely straddled, she presented him with the mouthwatering spectacle of her furiously inflamed backside. By contrast, her untouched thighs and calves gleamed with a soft carnation sheen that was exquisite to behold.

He rose, too, and removed his drawers, giving his massive cock free rein. For a lingering moment, he squeezed and massaged her scarlet buttocks with appraising fingers, while the beautiful naked widow whimpered and wriggled, till at last he pried open those Callyphygian hillocks and exposed the crinkly little rosebud of her arsehole. The dainty lips contracted with becoming modesty, which only served to inflame Father Lawrence the more, judging by the throbbing movements of his swollen cock. Maintaining the globes yawned apart with thumb and median finger of his left hand, he approached his right forefinger to the soft rosette and caressed it a bit, while Hortense Bernard moaned and sighed incoherently, then gently intruded just the tip within the narrow lobbyway of that furtive little cleft dedicated to the perversities of Sodom.

“Ohh, Your Reverence!” she breathed, her hips jerking fitfully as the result of this preliminary probing.

“Patience, my daughter,” he admonished. “I have the wherewithal to satisfy your longings, and I ask only your unmitigated cooperation to produce the result you have so long petitioned for.”

With this, withdrawing his forefinger, he moistened it with copious saliva, and then anointed the crinkly cleft, again causing her to shift on her knees and to weave her hips in the most lubricious manner. Next, spitting on his right forefinger and median finger a second time, he rubbed the moisture over the fulminating head of his surgingly rigid cock and thence over the tautly drawn, heavy-veined shaft. “Now we shall essay a matching of measurements, my daughter,” he told her. “Do not retreat when you first feel me make inroads into that tight chamber, or the good work will have to be repeated.”

“Oh, n – no, Y – Your Reverence,” she moaned, shuddering with erotic fervor throughout her entire naked body.

Now he put both hands to work against the quaking summits of her inflamed backside, yawned them voluminously till the dainty niche itself was lewdly distended and gaped in readiness for his adventuring, and then fitted the nozzle of his organ to the orifice, edging it forward with two or three tentative pushes, till at last the lips grudgingly gave way to superior strength and accepted just the tip of his formidable cockrod. A low groan of bliss escaped the naked patient, who bowed her head still lower and dug her fingers into the counterpane to steel herself against the brunt of his assault.

“Now to the good work,” he gasped, and thrust vigorously. Hortense Bernard, grinding her teeth, met the charge with heroic resistance as his cock slowly dug forward into the narrow channel. From what Desiree had told him, she was certainly not virgin in that crevice, but she remained virtually as tight as a virgin, a circumstance which magnificently implemented Father Lawrence's carnal joy in servicing her thus. By now, a solid inch of his rigid weapon was engulfed in that warm, narrow cavern, and visible contractions made her bottom cheeks quake and shudder against his compressing hands which continued to yawn them so their owner might not escape that which she had so boldly sought.

“Brace yourself again, my daughter. I return to the task,” he panted, and with a jerk of his loins sent his cock delving deeper still; a muffled cry exuded from her panting lips, as nearly half of the English ecclesiast's turgid lance burrowed inside her rectal canal.

He halted himself, shuddering to feel the rudely distended passageway spasmodically clutch against his imbedded organ in a series of convulsive pressures, which compelled him once again to exert the utmost self-discipline in not yet releasing the gouts of spunk.

“Am I hurting you, daughter?” he solicitously demanded, his voice trembling and hoarse with a ferocious lubricity now rampant within him.

“Ohh, Y – Your Reverence,” Hortense Bernard panted, “it is all that I can bear – no man before has ever stretched me so fairly – aaaahh, oh give me a moment to regain my strength so that I may enjoy all of you within me!”

“Right willingly, my child,” he breathed, “for I too am in need of respite. But do you bow your forehead to the counterpane; thereby you will angle up your backside all the more delightfully for my thrusting.”

The comely young widow immediately acceded to this request while her thighs began to quake and threatened to give way beneath her in near-fainting ecstasy. Father Lawrence crouched forward and extended his left hand under her to cup one of her ripe bosom globes, which he squeezed lovingly, while he groped his right forefinger towards the little lodestone of her clitoris. When he had attained the latter objective, Hortense Bernard uttered a sobbing cry of indescribable delight: “Aiiii, ohhhh, you will make me die with pleasure, Your Reverence! I swear that no one before has ever roused my vitals as you are doing now! Oh, blessed be the hour that you took it into your head to seek lodging in my poor abode!”