The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

If tender Laurette had procured a pardon for Pierre Larrieu and at the same time a remission of her failure to show herself to be a proper, dutiful wife by the simple expedient of surrendering her maidenhead to Pere Mourier (with Father Lawrence making doubly sure it could no longer exist), she also managed to learn a good deal about her own disposition. It was, quite simply, that the removal of her hymen had at one fell swoop whisked away all her virginal vapors—oddly enough, just as fat Pere Mourier had predicted—and enabled her to discover that she could give herself up with willing heart—and eager cunt—to carnal pleasuring.

I learned as much when the good Victorine attended her in her own chamber the very next day after this memorable hymeneal martyrdom to which she had been subjected. Laurette, before her mirror, clad in only camisole and drawers and one petticoat, had decided to undo her long thick plaits and comb out her beautiful golden tresses, to form a mantling cascade which would be more feminine and womanly. For, after all, she was now truly a woman, having in the short time it took Pere Mourier to pierce her maiden seal achieved that miraculous transition.

“May I aid Madame in combing out her hair?” Victorine deferentially offered.

“No, many thanks, dear Victorine,” the golden haired bride cheerfully replied. “But you would be doing me a great service if you would tell me truly whether you received last night a message from my sweetheart Pierre Larrieu.”

Victorine flushed and looked down rather guiltily. “But of a certainty, did I not come to the patron's bedchamber to deliver such a message?” she managed.

Laurette turned to her, with a sweet smile, and put her hand over the housekeeper's: “Yes, in truth you did, but could it not have been a false message? Be honest with me, Victorine, and I shall be your loyal friend and aide in this household. I will have my husband increase your wages and do all that which will please you. For to be equally honest with you, I love my Pierre and I shall never love the master whom you wished yourself to wed.”

Victorine hesitated, for to incur the wrath of the father confessor of the village was not a prospect she relished. But Laurette, again with that marvelous intuition which all females seem to be born with, read in the housekeeper's homely face the struggle between avarice and fear, and promptly poured oil upon the fire, so to speak: “Look you, Victorine, I will give you my word of honor not to betray you to Pere Mourier, whom f~ suspect of having arranged to send you to me with such a message, so that I would hurry to my lover and fall into the lewd clutches of that cunning churchman. And, more, I will leave the field open to you with my husband, for if I ever have the opportunity, I mean to leave him and run away with my true lover. I am not and never will be your rival, dear Victorine. What say you?”

“You—you—then you are not angry with me? I could not help it, he made me do it, Madame,” Victorine blubbered.

“Oh, no,” Laurette smiled. “I have done a good deal of thinking since last night, and in a way Pere Mourier has done me a better service than he guessed. For now that I am no longer a maiden, I am under my husband's protection. And if I have a rendezvous with my lover and am gotten with child by him, no one can dare say that it is not the patron's doing, for I shall faithfully and humbly perform my duties to M'sieu Villiers. So that is understood—and now will you be my ally?”

“Gladly, Madame,” Victorine sighed.

“Then take this little ring with a seed pearl as a present from me. It was given me by my husband, but he will not miss it, and by rights it should have gone to you anyway. In return, I wish you to get a message to Pierre from me—and this a true one, mind you!—that I am longing to see him when it can be arranged discreetly.”

“I swear I will do it for Madame, and I will not betray her to Pere Mourier.”

“Thank you, dear Victorine. And now, go prepare breakfast and I shall waken my husband. I must be attentive to him, so he will never suspect where my heart belongs.”

How truly the charming girl had matured in a single night! Perhaps all would yet be well with this tender damsel. Yet the presence of Pere Mourier and Father Lawrence, and their combined influence with her senile fool of a husband was not the best augur for the future. I told myself I would pay close attention to their machinations against her and aid her cause whenever I could do so.

But fate was to intervene in quite an unexpected way on behalf of the golden haired Laurette. For exactly two days after she had held secret counsel with good Dame Victorine, news came from the hamlet of Fonlebleu, a hundred miles to the south of Languecuisse, that the worthy Monsieur Gilles Henriot and his good dame Agnes had died suddenly of the flux leaving their little daughter Marisia, who was thirteen and a half summers in her youth, an orphan. Learning this news, Claude Villiers mourned deeply, for Agnes was his younger sister. He thereupon sent word by the horseman who had ridden to him with the gloomy tidings that Marisia was to be sent post haste here to him so that he might become her guardian and the sweet niece of his young bride Laurette, and so it was done.

A day later, Marisia arrived in the company of old fat Daniel Montcier, who had been steward to Gilles Henriot, and was given into the keeping of her elderly uncle. She was an entrancing little beauty despite her tender years. Black hair, glossy as a raven's wing, fell in a thick sheaf past her shoulderblades. Her face was oval and saucy with full red lips, gray-green eyes narrowly spaced by the bridge of a dainty snub nose whose thin, flaring wings bespoke a merciful and warm-blooded nature, and highset, slanting cheeks of an ivory complexion that was bewitching. Yet her figure was even more fetching; nearly as tall as Laurette herself, Marisia possessed a superbly developed, already bold pair of pear-shaped bubbies set closely together and whose crests pushed insolently at the bodice of her thin blouse. Supple of waist, she owned lithe, sleek haunches and an impudently jutting pair of oval-contoured bottom cheeks set above willowy long, gracefully slim thighs and entrancingly sinuous calves.

The old vintner was overjoyed that his young bride gave Marisia such affectionate welcome, and beamed fatuously as he saw the two embrace. Yes, he thought to himself, in his declining years, Dame Fortune had smiled upon him and given him a bride who, though at the outset repugnant and averse to his affections, had miraculously learned her place and would warm his sheets as zestfully as a harlot from the stews. And, it must be admitted also, his roue's eyes dwelt reflectively on the budding charms of his tender young niece.

Marisia was installed in a chamber next to Laurette's own, and that afternoon the two young beauties closeted themselves to become better acquainted.

“I will do my best to make you happy in this, your new home, dear Marisia,” Laurette tenderly told her charming niece, “and we shall be fast friends, for you are not too many years behind my own age, and I have need of friends.”

Marisia giggled roguishly, forward minx that she was. Her voice was rich and husky, like a coquette's: “This I doubt not, knowing my uncle well from what my poor parents have often told me of him.”

“Hush, dear Marisia, you must not show any resentment. I have learned that lesson myself to my cost. It is best to humor him and pretend to be fond of him.”

“To be sure, so that you can go unsuspected to your lover, dear Aunt Laurette,” was the tender girl's amazing response.

“Marisia! How can you speak of such a thing! You are much too young to know about love.”

“Not so, Aunt Laurette. I too am sorrowful to have left my home, for there was a boy named Everard who did kiss and clip me till my senses were all awhirl. Is your lover very handsome, dear Aunt Laurette? Everard was fair and tall with the deepest blue eyes,” the little hoyden sighed.

“Oh!” Laurette blushed. “M—mine is blond and tall, too, and gentle and kind.”

“All of which Uncle Claude is not. I have heard my poor Maman say that one day he would come to his death from tumbling wenches. He has, you know, a heart that is none too sound. I' faith, Maman said she did not know how it chanced that he was not taken with a stroke when coupling with any wench that struck his fancy.”

“Marisia, you must not speak of such vulgar things! You are still a child, and -”

“Pooh,” said the bold hoyden, making an impudent face, “I have almost coupled myself, Aunt Laurette, or next best to that. For my Everard, not wanting to big me with child, did use his tongue and finger instead of his big prick in my little slit!”

“Ohhh!” was all the scarlet faced Laurette could say at this incredible declaration. Yet what the minx had just revealed to her had planted a seed of fantasy in her brain; if that was true, then by coddling and cozening the old patron in the course of showing him her willingness to perform her conjugal duties, she might well excite him beyond measure. And if he were carried off by a seizure as punishment for his lecherous overindulgence, then she would be widowed and free to marry whomsoever it pleased her. Nay more—she would fall heir to his estate and all his gold.

Cautiously, still overwhelmed by the fanciful prospect which Marisia's bold candor had evoked, she hazarded: “My sweet niece, would it please you to see your Everard again?”

“Oh, Aunt Laurette, it would be heaven,” Marisia eagerly avowed, clapping her soft ivory hands together in glee. “But how can it be? He is the son of my parents' steward, and must live with his father to look after the house and lands.

“Well, then, if we are very nice to your Uncle Claude,” the golden haired beauty wheedled, “we might crave the boon from him of letting Everard come to visit here for a fortnight.”

“How I love you, Aunt Laurette,” Marisia flung her slim arms round her young aunt's neck and kissed her fiercely. “Oh, I will do anything you tell me, that Uncle Claude may grant such a boon.”

Another idea had come to Laurette, experienced woman that she had become by the miracle of her virgin loss; she had remembered the covetous glow in her elderly husband's eyes when they had fallen on Marisia. “I think I may know a way, my sweeting,” she murmured, “but it may not be to your taste.”

“But tell me, dear Tante Laurette!”

“I have swiftly learned that by humoring your uncle in bed, he is of better spirits and more likely to grant a favor. No—no, I should not even think of such an odious thing, you are but a child -”

“I am not a child, Tante Laurette,” Marisia impertinently declared with a toss of her raven head. “I warrant I know almost as much about fucking as you do!”

“Ohh, Marisia, such talk is scandalous!” Laurette was blushing with confusion.

“But I do, dear Tante! At our farm, I saw the dogs and pigs coupling, and the bull with the cow, and Everard told me how it was done 'twixt man and maid. It was only that he would not get me big with child that kept him from putting his big prick into me—though once I let him rub the head just over my little crack! And I often played with it, making it jet its thick cream over my hand.”

“I cannot believe what I hear, my darling niece—you, so young, to speak of fist-fucking!” Laurette breathed. But the ingenious plan whereby she might win her Pierre was already fomenting behind that pure brow of hers. I perched atop her golden head and though I could of course not divine what was passing inside, I followed her drift passing well.

“Pooh,” again Marisia tossed her lovely head till her raven curls danced. “You cannot know much more, being only wed a few short weeks to my old fool of an uncle!”

At this, Laurette's white cheeks were dyed a furious carmine. “Then I may dare tell you of the way to win your Everard's presence here on vacation—but I will not countenance it unless you swear to me you will not sin so greatly that you will bear a child, for in that I firmly maintain you are much too young!”

“I know many ways of pleasing Everard without fucking, dear Tante Laurette,” was Marisia's impudent boast. “There is the way of tickling with one's hand or finger, also with one's tongue -”

“Stop, I cannot bear to have you speak so boldly of such things done best under the sheets with the candles blown out,” gasped the beautiful, golden haired Laurette.

“Then I will show you what I mean, dear Tante!”

“With your uncle?” Laurette hazarded. Ah, what a shrewd and sweet minx she had become! For assuredly, let both beauties enter his bedchamber to do him carnal homage, and even the heart of a wholesome, sanguine rogue would bound affrightedly; old Claude Villiers would surely be carried off by a seizure the like of which two such entrancing conspiratresses could procure with the vision of their naked forms!

“If it would please you,” was Marisia's artful reply.

“Not me, you saucy wench, but your uncle. And he would be so enraptured, I warrant, as to grant you any boon you sought!”

“Then it is as good as done,” Marisia boldly giggled.

“So be it,” said Laurette, blushing again. “Tonight, I shall bring you into our conjugal chamber. I shall keep watch that he does you no great harm.”

“Bah, he cannot! My poor Papa said, once in my hearing, that Uncle Claude was all talk and no prick!” Marisia avowed. And so the exquisite complot was sworn to!

And so that night, when, in better humor than he had been since his wedding night, the old patron entered his bedchamber, he found his golden haired bride reclining on the bed in a thin white shift that modestly veiled her charms to her ankles. Yet she smiled on him and sweetly held out her arms to him, saying, “M'sieu my husband, would it displease you to have your charming niece visit you this night to show you a mark of her affection? She has been talking of nothing else since her arrival here.”

He scowled and nursed his bony chin. “But this she can do of a more seemly hour, Laurette. Tonight I am resolved to win that which I have labored for in vain since the day of our marriage.”

“Yes, my lord husband,” Laurette gave meek reply and fair cajoling smile, “and this is what prompts me to beg the favor of Marisia's presence here. For her grace and youth may stir you to performance of that great endeavor to which I look forward so impatiently myself.”

“Well, well now,” cackled the old fool, licking his lips in anticipatory relish, “in that case, I cannot begrudge the dear child this opportunity to signal unto me her happiness in the generous home I have provided. Indeed, I do think that her presence here will prove a happy augury for our future, for I find you marvelously humble and obedient, as I have not before.”

“It is because I was affrighted by my undeservedly honorable estate as your good wife, my noble husband,” was Laurette's adroit response, which naturally gratified the ego of the fatuous old idiot.

“Good, good, your humility has grace in my eyes. Then do you bring my niece to us straightaway,” he purred.

No sooner said than done, and in a trice Laurette returned to the patron's bedchamber, leading the adorable raven-tressed Marisia by the hand. Eyes demurely downcast, clad only in her thin muslin shirt which clung to her alluring young form in a manner that whetted the patron's narrowing, glittering eyes, she curtsied and murmured, “Dear my uncle, I longed to kiss you and my Tante Laurette good night ere I went to sleep.”

“Sweet child, come to my arms, then,” he cackled as he held them out. Marisia swiftly sped to him and,- locking her slim ivory arms round his shoulders, tilted up her saucy face and bestowed an ardent and lingering kiss full upon his thin dry lips. But, not content with this she pressed her loins tightly against his and, arching on tiptoes, barefooted that she was like an innocent maiden led into a trysting chamber, slyly rubbed her fledgling mount against his sere, des-sicated cock.

His face turned florid as he felt that lascivious constraint; till now, his hands had modestly rested on her shoulders. But when he felt the prodding of her bold young pear-shaped teaties against his chest and the wriggling friction of her loins, he grew emboldened enough to slip his hands down to the jouncy, high-set oval globes of her enchanting young backside, where one tentative squeeze of the satiny, firm flesh told him what a veritable houri of delights this untried maiden might well be.

“Morbleu,” he gasped in a voice even higher-pitched than usual due to his erotic excitement, “my sweet child, you recall to me the dear affection I had for your lamented mother, my adored sister Agnes. Ah, in her way, she was the loveliest maiden I had known, till, to be sure, the heavens smiled upon me by giving your Tante Laurette as my consort!”

“Do you think I am pretty, dear Uncle Claude?” the bold young hoyden teased, not relinquishing hold with her arms, nor easing the subtle rubbings which she continued to inflict upon his tremoring loins with her own fledgling cunny and sweet belly.

“Aye, you are more than that, my sweeting niece,” he breathed, for his fingers were by now reveling in the palpitation of her squirming bottom cheeks. “But it is high time you were abed, for your aunt and I must seek our nuptial privacy.”

“Can I not stay to watch, dear Uncle Claude?” Marisia murmured, fixing him with her gray-green eyes in a look of exquisite enticement.

“Er—n—no, my child, it is not seemly for your tender years,” he stammered, giving Laurette an appealing glance to come to his aid in sending Marisia from their presence. But Laurette, the sly minx, only smiled and nodded graciously, saying, “See how she dotes on you, her dear uncle, M'sieu my husband! She is a poor orphan now, and in need of affection!”

“That is true, but she is of too tender an age -” the old patron began, only to be interrupted by raven haired Marisia who, in a teasing voice, declared, “Oh, my uncle, I know well that you want to fuck Laurette, but I can help you do that if you will only let me stay!”

Monsieur Claude Villiers recoiled as if thunderstruck, his eyes virtually popping from their sockets: “Do I hear aright?” he gasped. “How can it be that this fledgling speaks of the secret juncture between husband and wife in such lewd terms?”

“Because I know what fucking is, dear Uncle Claude,” was the artful minx's reply, as she now put out a slim ivory hand and fondled the patron's cock through his nightshirt. “Do let me stay and watch, and I pledge I will help you both to enjoyment!”

He stood there irresolute a moment, torn between his overweening lust and his residue of conscience and morality, but Marisia tipped the scales in her favor by doffing her own nightshift and standing there adorably, bewitchingly Lillith-nude. There was a soft black down gathered over the dainty pink lips of her virgin cunny, yet, despite her scant years, her body was voluptuous to the extreme. The boldly jutting young pears of her titties were crowned by soft, wide coral-tinted aureoles, and the paps which centered those delicious haloes were pert and saucy in their crinkly verve. The wide, shallow dimple of her belly seemed to wink salaciously at her bemused, astounded uncle. “Do you not think now I can aid you, my uncle?” Marisia pursued, her gray-green eyes sparkling with licentious merriment.

“Mordieu, I do! Come then, my sweeting niece and my beauteous young wife, and we shall seek a menage a trois such as ne'er before mortal man delighted in,” he swore.

Laurette slipped off her own nightshift, and now was milky skinned-naked, as she clambered onto the bed on her proper side. Claude Villiers, shivering with feverish expectancy, hastened to expose his own scrawny nakedness and took his place beside her, whilst the ivory-limbed young niece nimbly stretched herself out at his right and, turning on her side, applied slim fingers to the dangling, dwindled edifice of his poor manhood.

“Oh, what enchantment, oh, what bliss,” he babbled as he turned to the wife of his bosom, his bony fingers paddling at her superb round milky bubbies, while gentle Laurette, forcing a beatific smile of humble acquiescence, let him do as he would.

“Oh, Uncle Claude, you must fuck Laurette soundly tonight, but your prick is not yet ready for that,” Marisia murmured. “Yet if I were a man, my dear aunt's beauty would make my prick stand to attention to dig into her darling cunt! Do let me help you fuck her, my uncle!”

“Do what you will,” breathed the entranced old man, believing himself to have come somehow to Mohammed's paradise where, it is said, many lovely houris await the pleasure of the faithful. For, indeed, surrounded on both sides by two such delectable naked handmaidens, he felt himself capitulated into that glorious nirvana.

Marisia, giggling softly, rose to all fours, and, to his astonishment, placed herself in reverse over his lean, sere naked body. Then, bending her head, she took up the dwarfed, dry head of her old uncle's cock between her soft red lips and sucked at it, while she lowered her fledgling cunny right over his florid, astounded face, so that his eyes might dote on the soft pink aperture scarcely shielded by the downy raven moss of her virgin pubis, as well as the sinuous furrow, ambery-mysterious, which parted the poutingly jutting cheeks of her ivory behind, and the dainty crinkly little rosette which lay at the end of that Sodomitic passageway.

“Marisia—ahh—ohh, what a darling child, to show her old uncle such delicious affection,” he groaned. “I feel new life coming into my old bones—oh, continue the good work, and you shall have any boon you ask!”

“Yes, my sweet niece,” Laurette counseled, “did I not tell you your dear Uncle Claude was generous to a fault? In gratifying him, Marisia dear, you do gratify me as well, for I am longing to have his good stiff cock visit my lonely well, and that as swiftly as possible!”

Now such converse, abetted by such lascivious yet charming attunement, was ably planned to en-vigor the old patron, if, indeed, anything could at this late stage in his declining years. But Marisia, wishing to enthrall him totally, whispered, “Oh, my uncle, will you not pleasure me as well, since I am too young to feel the joy of a man's prick inside my little cunt, by kissing and putting your tongue to it?”

Whereupon she took the head and some of the dwindled shaft into her mouth and rubbed the point of her pert little pink tongue all over the desiccated flesh.

Groaning with the sensations which this naked young nymph was thus procuring for him, Monsieur Claude Villiers reached up his trembling hands and, gripping the pert bottom cheeks which undulated over his face, pulled Marisia's loins down to him. Then his quivering lips implanted on the fresh, sweet, pink tidbit of her virgin cunny a feverish kiss.

“Oooooh, that feels so good, dear uncle,” Marisia sighed languorously and lifted her head to regard Laurette and evince her young aunt a conspiratorial wink. “But do not stop, and I will ready your vit to the delightful labor of fucking my beloved aunt!”

So saying, the artful little hoyden took hold of her uncle's organ with both hands and tickled and squeezed and stroked it, then directed the head once again between her lips, commencing an insistent suction. The old patron, shuddering and rolling his eyes, completely forgetting his lawful mate in this unexpected interlude, repaid Marisia in kind by kissing and sucking the soft pink petals of her fledgling quim, which soon began to palpitate and twitch and grow exquisitely swollen with the flux of blood to their erogenous volutes. Finding the tiny little love-button lodged in its protective nesting place of sweet pink soft cunny flesh, the patron jabbed it with the top of his tongue, causing Marisia to wriggle in the most salacious way and to accelerate and intensify the suction of her rosy soft mouth against his cockhead.

Now his organ had begun to stiffen to the largest state of erection I had observed since my entry into the Villiers household, and at last Marisia murmured, “It will soon be of a size sufficient to fuck my aunt's soft cunt, dear uncle! Ohh, how nicely you are gamahuching me—oh, do rim me with your tongue!”

She had learned this lascivious lexicon from none other than her youthful swain Everard, but at this point her elderly uncle had no thought of chiding her for such audacious bawdiness. Panting and gasping, he complied, and Marisia writhed and jerked her hips about as his tongue rasped into her maiden crevice. Suddenly she uttered a squeal of ecstasy and flooded his tongue with her girlish love-essence, proof that she was hot-blooded beyond her tender years.

“Ohh, thank you, thank you, dearest, kindest Uncle Claude,” she breathed, as she rubbed her tongue tip over his scrotum and balls, her bottom cheeks still clenching and yawning in the aftermath of amorous rapture, while long shivers rippled her slim ivory thighs. “Ohh, now you are ready for my aunt, I am sure of it! Quickly, let me help you put your big strong prick into Tante Laurette's soft little cunt!”

She scrambled off the patron's shuddering body leaving him in a magnificent state of turgidity, and even Laurette's eyes widened at the unusual rigidity of the staff sticking up between his lean thighs. But, at Marisia's sign, she smiled and stretched herself in sacrificial readiness upon her back, straddling her thighs to their maximum, and holding up her arms to her husband, while Marisia urged, “Come quickly, Uncle Claude! Her cunt is hot and ready for your big prick!”

Wheezing with his excitement, the scrawny old man got to all fours and crouched over Laurette, while the passionate Marisia took hold of the head of his stiff cock with one hand and, gaping open the lips of her young aunt's cunny with the other, introduced husband to wife in the most exemplary way as if she had done it all her tender young life.

“Ohh, Laurette, Laurette, my darling pigeon, at last, at last I shall fuck you,” he ecstatically announced as he felt himself sink down into that tight warm channel. Her arms enfolded him and held him upon her swelling round milky bubbies, and her white calves firmly clamped over his thighs to imprison him to her love-bower.

Marisia did not take away her slim fingers till she was certain that her aunt and uncle were truly fused. Then, still excited, she knelt with her bottom resting on her heels, and slyly applied a forefinger to her moist itching pink cleft and began to frig herself as she watched the act of copulation.

His emaciated body was atremble with fulminating sensations; he arched himself, then sank back down, feeling his cock dig into the deeper recesses of his young wife's cunt. As for Laurette, though she still detested the old fool, her wakening the other night and her joyous plans to win Pierre Larrieu back to her side without her husband's knowledge had titillated her latent passions. More than that, the delicious salacity which her young niece had displayed had fanned the flames of her own carnal appetites, and so the entranced old patron was able to call out in a hoarse, shaking voice, “Ohh, what paradise it is at last! Ohh, I can feel the walls of your soft cunt nibbling against my cock, my sweet pigeon, oh, my adored Laurette!”

But this gamut of sensations was too much for the boastful old fool; suddenly, his eyes rolled in their sockets, his head rose from her swelling teaties, and he uttered a sobbing cry of “Oh, Ventre-de Dieu. I have lost my spunk—ohh, I am undone, your tight cunt has robbed me of the long bliss I had dreamed of wicked girl that you are!” And he sagged on her, giving down his seed.

When he had somewhat regained his consciousness and rolled off her, Marisia was there with dampened cloths to serve as sweet handmaiden to them both and to sponge them of the traceries of that brief fornication. It was then that the old fool, fixing Laurette with an inimical and suspicious glare, exclaimed, “Faithless hussy, you've tricked me and cuckolded me!”

“Nay, my dear husband, how can that be? You are the first man who has ever shot his seed into my womb,” Laurette sought to mollify his wrath.

“Yet I have the proof, Laurette! A moment ago, when my cock engaged your cunt, there was no barrier to halt my advance! Your hymen is gone, but it was not perforated by my cock, and that you know full well!”

“My sweet husband, I am ashamed to tell you why that is so,” Laurette murmured, lowering her beautiful blue eyes.

“I command that you tell me, you faithless, sluttish jade!”

“Do you not recall how I toiled in the wine cask that day of harvest, my husband?”

“Assuredly I do! That was the day I knew I must wed you—but by my troth, you have stolen from me what is my right in bringing yourself unvirgined to my bed,” he growled.

“But let me finish, my lord husband,” petitioned Laurette, taking him by the shoulders and bestowing a gentle kiss of peace upon his lips. “You well know that I wished so much to win the prize that I trampled the good grapes with all my might and main. And it was the constant churning of my thighs that weakened the seal that was your rightful due and, alas, rent it asunder. It is only now that you have fucked me for the first time and made me truly yours that I dare pluck up my courage and overcome my natural shame to tell you of this woeful occurrence!”

And thus the imaginative golden haired bride of the old patron showed that she could be as artful as Marisia, and, indeed, as the two zealous holy men who had taken such pains to “edify” her.