This free script provided by
The next day was virtually a holiday because the celebration of the harvest had caused the villagers to drink copiously of the good wine and many quaffed in excess and then slept like the dead until nearly noon. Besides, there was, I am quite sure, a veritable orgy of fornication in every cottage, and this physical excess coupled with overindulgence in wine brings a delicious torpor even to the young and vigorous. At any rate, Pere Mourier, after having his breakfast, left the rectory about noon to pay another call on Monsieur Claude Villiers for the purpose of making certain that the banns between that estimable patron and the virgin Laurette would officially be read the following Sunday. Also, as he informed Desireé, he wished to visit Laurette and her parents after having seen the patron so that there would be clarification on the part of all concerned in this important ceremony. Father Lawrence, who woke a little before the obese French priest, shared breakfast with him, and apologetically requested that he, rather than Pere Mourier, be allowed to speak on his own behalf to Madame Hortense Bernard with the aim of securing board and shelter during his stay in Languecuisse.
"I would not wish to inflict myself sight unseen on the worthy widow, dear colleague," he told the French priest.
"You see, if you were to speak to her, she would naturally accept me in advance without ever having laid eyes on me, simply because you have her full confidence. And since I am here in Languecuisse as a vacationer, not in my official ecclesiastical capacity, I wish to be sure that she does not find me displeasing as a lodger."
"Such delicacy and tact is admirable, my illustrious confrere," Pere Mourier beamed. "I fear the visits to M'sieu Villiers and Laurette will consume much time, since they too require diplomacy and deference. And I know you are eager to settle down to your well-earned comforts whereas, alas, we are too small and crowded to tender you the hospitality you deserve. By all means, call upon the good Widow Bernard, and mention my name. It will suffice, I am certain."
"Believe me, Pere Mourier, I have nothing but the highest praise for the gracious hospitality I have been accorded here. Indeed, were I to leave your pleasant little hamlet this very day and never return, I should carry with me the warmest memories of that hospitality.
Father Lawrence glanced slyly up at the Amazonian housekeeper, who was in the act of pouring out another cup of coffee for her obese employer. Her face flamed and she very nearly dropped the pewter pot. That she caught it was fortunate indeed for Pere Mourier, as the liquid was scalding hot. Had it splashed into his lap, it might well have burned his cock and unmanned him.
"Well, well, that is kindly said," Pere Mourier beamed, "but I trust that since you will be quartered not far from my humble rectory, you will not be a stranger once you have established yourself in the abode of Madame Bernard. And now I must be off to spread the good word and to put Laurette, that mischievous little vixen, and our saintly upholder of Languecuisse, into a rapport that will lead them up to the altar."
He left the room, and Desireé at once sidled up to Father Lawrence, her bold eyes warm with remembered felicity from their night together: "Your Reverence will leave me desolate," she murmured seductively. "How shall I endure your absence for an entire month, knowing all the while that you are exposed to the temptation of the impudent trollop Hortense Bernard?"
"But, my daughter," he cried, feigning alarm at this piece of news, "do you imply that I am to be lodged with a sinful woman?"
"Just so, Your Reverence. It is well known that her husband took to drink as a result of her infidelities and also because he could not keep up with servicing her insatiable and lewd demands. Yes, it is true! On the night that he was drowned in the wine vat, he had been turned out of his own cottage by that shameless hussy so that she might entertain a handsome tinker who was passing through that day. He had gone to console his sorrows in the arms of Jacqueline Aleroute, the plump wanton who is wife to the old baker, Henri. And he was just easing himself into her welcoming arms when, as luck would have it, Henri took a notion to come home earlier than was his wont, for it was his custom to stop at the tavern after he baked his bread for the next day and to finish a bottle of Chablis. Surprised in the very act of cuckolding the old baker, poor Gervaise--that was the name of Hortense's husband, Your Reverence--clambered out of the window. But as his trousers were dangling about his legs, he stumbled and fell into the wine vat."
"That story is a tragic one, my daughter. But perhaps my presence in the abode of Madame Bernard will serve as an ameliorative influence. Through my counsel and guidance, she may be able to wrest the demon of carnal temptation from her spirit."
"Perhaps, Your Reverence," Desireé said shaking her handsome head. "But I fear she will seek to lure you to her shameless bed. The mere sight of a man sets her lusts aflame. And worst of all--oh, but I blush to relate it before Your Reverence!"
"Speak freely and frankly, my daughter, for there is no mortal sin with which I am not familiar. The more one knows of the devil's subtle ways of corruption, the better one is armed against them."
"Yes, that is true, Your Reverence. Well--oh, but truly, it is so shameful that I blush even to hint of it!"
He fitted his arm round her little waist and gazed up at her with a benevolent smile as he gently responded, "I pardon you in advance, and compliment you on your modesty, my daughter. Now tell me honestly what penchant of Madame Bernard's so horrifies you."
Desireé shivered as his arm tightened round her waist. Quickly, she bent to his ear and whispered, her opulent bosom rising and falling quickly in her emotions.
"You are certain that she prefers to be buggered, my daughter?"
"Shh, Your Reverence, you must not say such wicked words!" gasped the Amazonian housekeeper, her face crimson with sensual titillation.
"There is nothing wicked in words, my child, only in deeds. Well, then, be of good cheer, for I promise you I shall reason and remonstrate with this unfortunate woman who has not enjoyed your ascent to grace by being engaged as the housekeeper of a goodly man of the Church. I shall leave now to make the acquaintance of this misguided creature, my child. Count your blessings to yourself after I am gone."
"Yes, surely." Desireé let a languorous sigh escape her. "Alas, Your Reverence!"
"What troubles you?" He rose and drew her to him, his hands squeezing the firm, jutting globes of her sumptuous backside through her skirt. "You need keep no secrets from me, my daughter, as I think you know already."
"I--I shall be l-lonely without Your Reverence here to console me," Desireé whimpered, her face downcast.
"Courage, my beautiful daughter! Tilt up that lovely face and give me a parting kiss of peace. I promise that you shall not be forgotten in my prayers, nor my thoughts either. If ever you are stricken with despair or aught else that troubles you greatly, which your worthy employer cannot alleviate for you, I give you leave to call upon me at Madame Bernard's abode." So saying, the English ecclesiast cupped her trembling chin with one hand and fused his lips to hers, while she wriggled lasciviously against him. Her tongue crept out and furled into his mouth as her arms wrapped around him, loathe to release him. "Ohh, please, Your R-Reverence," she breathed tremulously, "will you not appease my loneliness a last time before you depart? I am sure that once you go to reside with that lewd trollop, Hortense Bernard, you will be so preoccupied trying to cast the demon out of her that you will have no time for your humble servant, Desireé."
"You must learn patience and discipline, my child," he murmured. "There is not time for me to allay your grief completely, but I will grant you a momentary respite for your sufferings. Hoist your skirt and petticoat and keep them at your waist, while you continue kissing me in farewell."
"I--I have no petticoat on, Y-Your Reverence," Desireé quavered.
"So much the better, then less time will be lost," he retorted.
The Amazon swiftly tucked up her skirt, under which she was voluptuously naked, and kept it wadded up in a roll above her belly with one trembling hand, while her other foraged at once to his cassock just at the point where his sexual weapon flourished. But the English ecclesiast halted her and shook his head. "No, my daughter," he said kindly but firmly. "You must learn the lesson of forbearance. I alone will ease your anguish, but you must withhold yourself in all other ways. Use that soft hand to clamp against my back to support you, and now give me your soft red lips."
She reluctantly obeyed. Once his lips crushed against hers, he clamped his left arm around her plaint waist and approached his right forefinger to the thick, dark, chestnut bush that hid her pink-lipped cunny. Delicately, lingeringly, he began to frig the beautiful Amazon, the tip of his wiry finger just grazing the quivering, coral petals of her cunt hole until the voluptuous young widow began to gasp and sigh and to squirm herself this way and that. "Do not let your skirt fall, my daughter, or I shall stop at once," he warningly teased her, "and continue to kiss me lovingly to signify your sorrow in our parting."
Her burning lips fervently mashed to his and her tongue voraciously dug between his lips, scraping his teeth and gums, while her fingers, like talons, clawed at his sinewy back. His forefinger resumed its caresses over the labia of her Venus, which at once grew moist and began to twitch and grow a darker pink, inflamed from the access of lustful desires that his titillations evoked. Her eyes dilated enormously and were misty with her swiftly rising passions as she breathed, "Ohh--ahhhh--ohhh, ahh, Y-Your RReverence--oh, I implore you not to torture me like this, but to plough my furrow with that hard rod of yours; it is what I so dearly need if I am to be denied it for the future!" "Think upon your remembrance of the communion I granted you last night, my daughter, for its exemplary vigor should not be so soon forgotten," was his bantering response, "and remember this invaluable precept, that anticipation is sometimes even more rewarding than realization. Better still, summon your inventive mind to pretend that what you feel between your sturdy thighs is that which you enjoyed last night to such overweening measure, since what I now deign to accord you is also a member and part of me."
"Aii--ohh--ahh--y-yes--Y-Your Reverence," moaned the passionate Amazon, whose loins had begun to writhe and jerk convulsively as his clever frigging drove her apace towards gushing climax, "but the other m-member was ever so much longer and thicker-ahhh!"
"Ingratitude is the curse of the world, my daughter," he said sententiously as he kept frigging her pouting cunt lips, while now his left hand gripped the scruff of her neck to force her to kiss him without ceasing, "that I attend your needs at all when I have errands to perform this day must show you that I hold you in some little esteem, so be content. Am I not quieting your fervor somewhat?"
"Ahh--oouuuu--ahrrr--y-yes--ohh, Y-Your R-Reverence," Desireé fairly sobbed, "but it takes so long with your finger ohh, if only your great rod were stuffed inside me to the very roots, my fondest memories of Your Reverence would be magnified a thousand-fold--ahrrr--ohh, quickly, in mercy, for I am burning up inside my slit!"
"Kiss me gratefully then, my child, and I will see to your assuagement," he whispered. When again her feverish, hot and moist lips crushed on his and once more her nimble tongue flicked and serpentined between his lips, Father Lawrence deftly sought with his questing fingertip the little nodule of her clitoris, sweetly hidden in its fold of soft pink love-flesh, wherein was contained all the potency of her sexual fever. No sooner had he grazed this simulacrum of a male cock than it throbbed and stiffened, and a moaning, inchoate cry escaped the writhing housekeeper. Her thighs shook with tremors, and she was hard put to it to retain her up trussed skirt against her belly, but his left hand supported her by tightening its grip against her neck.
Tantalizingly, he rubbed the little button of her erotic grotto till she was beside herself and the most uncontrollable spasms shook her as she pressed and arched against him, employing all her wiles--even those of her fiercely cajoling tongue that sloshed about so avidly on his mouth--to seduce him into fucking her. But with heroic self-control Father Lawrence resisted her temptation (for a reason that will soon be made manifest to my readers), simply contenting himself with prodding her clitoris this way and that till at last Desireé announced her flooding climax with a raucous cry of rapture, and flung both arms round his neck as her body jerked and writhed its frenzied responses. He wiped off his copiously bedewed forefinger on her rumpled skirt, then kissed her chastely on the forehead and told her he would remember her in his meditations. And then, while she retired, weeping disconsolately, to the kitchen to see to Pere Mourier's afternoon nourishment, Father Lawrence left the rectory.
The cottage of the widow whom the good Pere Mourier had recommended as a possible housekeeper was not far from the rectory, a pleasant stroll through verdant fields and hedges, not unlike that which Laurette Boischamp had taken the night before. Father Lawrence walked slowly, enjoying the landscape, the blue sky and warm sun, serenely at his ease. At length, he came to the little cottage and rapped upon the door for admittance, whereupon it was opened by a stunningly buxom female, the sight of whom at once brightened the worthy ecclesiast's eye.
"Oh, mon pére," the woman exclaimed, putting a hand to her mouth, "has something happened to Pere Mourier that you are here to replace him?"
"Be of good cheer, my daughter," Father Lawrence at once responded in quite passable French, "your concern for my confrere tells me in what high esteem you hold him. He, on the other hand, spoke warmly to me only last night, praising your zeal and devotion as one of his parishioners."
"The dear man," the widow cooed and raised her eyes to heaven, "may he be forever blessed! But then, is it that Languecuisse is to have two priests, Your Reverence?" "No, Madame Bernard, I am just here on my vacation before I return to the seminary in England where I shall take up my duties," he smilingly informed her. "But as I am a stranger here, Pere Mourier was good enough to suggest that you might be willing to give me board and lodging, for which I will pay well. I seek privacy and quiet for my meditations, and I would not intrude upon you in the slightest."
During this little speech, the buxom female openly eyed the virile, mature English churchman, while he more discreetly surveyed her charms, recalling what Desireé had mentioned of her carnal foibles. Hortense Bernard was not much older than Desireé--perhaps two or three years at the most--with light brown hair that fell in a lustrous sheaf to her shoulders. She was blessed with a winsome, round face, widely spaced large soft brown eyes, a Grecian nose whose broadly flaring wings indicated a sensual temperament, as did the small but overripe lips of her red mouth.
But it was her figure that demanded the most attention. Even the wide skirt that she wore could not disguise the truly juicy curves of full, appetizing haunches, of robust and sturdy thighs well able to bear many a vigorous charge from the spunk-laden weapon of a lusting male. The fine plump, well turned calves were bare, and their skin was of a fine carnation tinting calculated to whet the sexual appetites of even such a discriminating philosopher of womankind's foibles as Father Lawrence had already proved to be. As to her bosom, the low-cut blouse accentuated its sumptuous treasures: two narrowly set, high-perched round melons, boasted wide, pale coral circles from which rose darling pink hued tidbits that fairly made Father Lawrence's mouth water, if I am any judge of the look in a man's eyes when he gazes upon a female.
I rested on his left shoulder, conserving my powers, for I too was on vacation. The warm sun, the languorous climate, had made me pleasantly drowsy ever since my arrival; as for sustenance, I had already dined enough soon after coming to Languecuisse to be able to quell the occasional bloodsucking urge which rose in me from time to time. What interested me most, dear reader, was the unfolding of this rather complex relationship between the fat French priest, the tender Laurette and her ill-starred lover Pierre, the Amazonian Desireé, and Father Lawrence. Somehow, I believed, that before the last-named's stay in this village should come to an end, there would be amusing and dramatic episodes to include in my memoirs and remember fondly in my old age. For even a Flea can gradually lose his powers, very much like a man, and thereby be relegated to recounting his primal urges with fond, burning reminiscences.
"Oh, Your Reverence, it would be a great honor for me to give you shelter in my humble cottage," the Widow Bernard remarked with a great fluttering of long, thick, curly eyelashes and a charming blush that would have done credit to a girl in her tenderest teens. "Since my poor husband died, I have had an empty room which saddens my heart each time I pass it, for it was in that very chamber that my loving Gervaise and I came together in connubial joy." She sniffled fetchingly and modestly lowered her eyes. I could see that Father Lawrence was already smitten and well on his way to forgetting his recent clandestine delights with Desireé. He was near quivering with eagerness to have Widow Bernard to himself.
"It is most generous of you, my daughter, and heaven will bless your thoughtfulness," he told her with an unctuous smile. "Here is ten francs for the first week of my lodging. I trust there will be sufficient left to purchase such little food as I may require."
"Oh, Your Reverence, with so much money I can easily feed you on roast goose and tender duckling," exclaimed the delighted widow. "Do honor me by entering my humble abode and letting me show Your Reverence to his room. No man has entered it since poor Gervaise left this world to find his eternal reward, which I daily pray he has attained by now." "Amen to that," said Father Lawrence. "Do go ahead of me, Madame Bernard, to show me the way."
The buxom widow inclined her head deferentially and went forward while he followed. His eyes fixed on the swing of her magnificent spacious hips, watching the undulations of her truly remarkable backside, which her thin skirt clung to and clearly showed with each step. I remembered what Desireé had intimated about the Widow Bernard's predilection, and I was sure the virile English churchman had the same thought in his mind. I myself could attest to her being superbly endowed to service the unnatural lust of a man who was interested in that particular perversity, often associated with the infamous city of Sodom.
She opened a narrow door and again inclined her head as he entered. The furnishings comprised a low bedstead, a chest of drawers, a footstool and a sturdy, short-backed chair, and there was a tiny window placed at about the height of a man's shoulders. Father Lawrence went to it and stared out with a satisfied smile on his lips. "A really exquisite chamber, Madame Bernard. There is all the privacy I could wish for. I am grateful to you."
"But it is I who am beholden to you, Your Reverence. Ten francs--oh, it is a bounty from heaven itself!" she gushed, and, seizing his hand, bore it to her lips and kissed it. Benignly, he patted her head with his other hand and responded, "You do me too much credit, my daughter. What is money but something to be shared? And now, with your permission, I will enjoy a little nap, that I may regain my strength."
"Certainly, Your Reverence, certainly," the buxom widow cooed, her voice low and sweet and fawningly deferential as she backed out of the room and then closed the door.
Father Lawrence unpacked his valise and found room for his few articles of clothing. Then, removing cassock and his little cornered hat and placing them atop the chest, he stretched out on the bed clad only in his drawers since the weather was still extremely warm. Yet, no sooner had he closed his eyes and emitted a sigh of content than I perceived a gradual swelling at the crotch of his drawers until before very long his virile cock was in gigantic erection. Perhaps he was dreaming of his tryst with Desireé, or perhaps of an imagined tryst with virginal Laurette, I cannot tell; but whatever the cause, his organ was readied to decimate a hundred maidenheads.
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, while a delicious rosy color suffused her cheeks. She approached the bed on tiptoe and bent down to stare at this symbol of virility, her lips forming an O 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. Since I have to go to market, 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."
"A-as Y-Your Reverence wishes," Madame Bernard stammered. But she made no attempt to withdraw, and once again, as if by hypnosis, her eyes again riveted upon that upraised structure which looked about to burst out of the priest's drawers.
He returned her gaze levelly. "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. Wishing to draw her from this curious state of fixation that rendered her incapable of moving from the spot, Father Lawrence gave her a long meaningful look and then said 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 I deem it necessary to explain that this condition is natural to me when I am completely at my ease. 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 taken the place of your late husband."
Hortense Bernard lowered her eyes and faintly admitted, "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 pleasure, and it is pleasing when man and wife take satisfaction, for true marriages are made in heaven."
"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?" 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 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 put his c-cock into the other place, Your Reverence."
"The other place?" Father Lawrence again feigned ignorance. "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 below that 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 put a quivering forefinger towards the narrow, shadowy groove that separated two magnificently ripe, upstanding round hemispheres.
"It--it was in here, Y-Your Reverence," she whispered. "I wished Gervaise to put his th-thing here. But he said it was wickedness to do so. I begged 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."
The English ecclesiastic's eyes blazed 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 his 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 desire, 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, Your R-Reverence."
"Then I will offer myself to accommodate your needs, my child. Unless my offer offends you?"
"Oh no!" the brown-haired widow breathed, glancing down again at his mighty cock. The tip of her pink tongue delicately circled the corners of her quivering lips hinting at the excitement she felt at this unforeseen boon.
"Then I must prepare the terrain first. 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 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 Sodomic bliss she so 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 by a somewhat trying ordeal."
Reassured that the father had not changed his mind and decided to punish her for her wicked desire, Hortense Bernard closed her eyes and clenched her 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. "Remove your blouse and get on 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. Getting onto the bed, naked as the day of her birth, head bowed, palms bearing down on the counterpane, knees widely straddled, she presented him with the mouth-watering spectacle of her furiously inflamed backside. By contrast, her untouched thighs and calves gleamed with a soft 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 Callipygian 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. Keeping the globes opened with thumb and median finger of his left hand, he approached his right forefinger to the loft rosette and caressed it a bit, while his willing victim moaned and sighed incoherently, then gently intruded just the tip of his finger within the narrow lobby way of that furtive little cleft dedicated to the perversities of Sodom.
"Ohh, Your Reverence!" she breathed, her hips jerking fitfully with 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."
He withdrew his finger, moistened it with a copious amount of 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, no-no, Y-You Reverence," she moaned, shuddering with erotic fervor.
He put both hands to work against the quaking summits of her inflamed backside, opening them voluminously until the dainty niche itself was lewdly distended and gaped in readiness for his adventuring. He fitted the nozzle of his organ to the orifice, edging it forward with two or three tentative pushes until at last the lips grudgingly gave way to his 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 assault. "Now to the good work," he gasped, and thrust vigorously. Hortense, grinding her teeth, met the charge with heroic resistance as his cock slowly dug forward into the narrow channel. From what Desireé 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. "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 escaped 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 embedded 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 bow your forehead to the counterpane; thereby you will angle up your backside all the more delightfully for my thrusting."
The comely young widow willingly complied while her thighs began to quake and threatened to give way beneath her. She was near-fainting with ecstasy. Father Lawrence crouched forward and extended his left hand under her to cup one of her ripe breasts, which he squeezed lovingly. At the same time, 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!"
"Amen to that, my hospitable daughter," Father Lawrence rapturously agreed. "And now that I have regained my full composure, prepare yourself to feel the end of my blade within that marvelously narrow chink of yours!"
Eager to keep his word, the English ecclesiast ground his teeth and thrust manfully forward, while at the same time distracting his naked landlady by continuing to fondle her panting breast and to frig her turgid clitoris. Hortense Bernard writhed lasciviously, uttering one sobbing little cry after another, yet stoically she did not avoid his vigorous charge but thrust back her naked hips so that he might harpoon her fundament to the very hilt. Thus, he felt against his belly the shuddering, wriggling globes of her opulent backside, and his face turned purple with contorted lubricity as he called upon all his reserve powers to withhold the deluge of love-juice that yearned to burst forth without more delay.
His forefinger speeded its perorations against her dainty nodule and augmented Hortense Bernard's furious responses. Her fingers clawed the sheets, her face turned restlessly from side to side, and he felt the naked breast within his cupping hand jut and rasp its swollen nipple bud against his palm as evidence of her fervent atonement.
Now he began to work his mighty weapon in and out of that protestingly contracting channel, and the naked young widow squirmed and twisted herself this way and that as if to disengorge herself of the spear that was decimating her bowels. But in truth, this was the last thing in the world she wished for, (if I am to judge by her babbled supplications and whimperingly sobbed-out cries). "Ahhhrrr! Oh, faster, harder, Your Reverence! Ahh, your finger is driving me near to swooning--oh, oh, hold it back, Your Reverence, till I am ready too! Deeper, harder into me, I implore you--oh, what bliss, what joy you bring me!"
His forefinger flattened the stiffened tidbit of her clitoris back into its dainty little cowl of pink flesh, then let it bob up in all its glory; then he rubbed it from side to side, then pressed it down only to let it spring up again. By these sly means, her drew her ever closer towards the abyss of passion into which the hot and tight and squeezing enclaspment of her rectal walls against his imbedded ramrod threatened to plunge him at any instant. Finally, sensing from her quaking spasms and the tireless wriggling of her velvety, naked hips that she was almost at a fever pitch, he called out to her to accompany him on this flight into the empyrean. Then, with two or three violent eviscerating digs of his bursting weapon, he flooded her bowels with a deluge of hot viscous fluid even as her own mossy nook gave down its creamy libation to his delving forefinger. In her spasm, the comely widow's arms and legs gave way beneath her and she sprawled flat and full length upon the bed with the good father closely joined to her as they both gasped out their ecstasy.
And thus, the visiting English ecclesiastic took up his new domicile and at the same time consoled the secretive burning desire of the frustrated and beautiful Widow Bernard.