The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 2

CHAPTER NINE

The amazonian widow evidently had correctly divined the habits of her new employer, for Pere Mourier did not return to the rectory until a good half-hour after the scene which I have just described. He was in fine spirits, and asked Desiree to bring him a little glass of cognac to his bedchamber and invited her to join him with a petite verre for herself.

When she had arrived, he took his glass from the little tray which she had brought, took an appreciative sip, rolling the fiery liquid back and forth in his mouth before swallowing. Then he smacked his belly with a fat hand and buoyantly declared “Morbleu, that little minx is not nearly so innocent as she pretends.”

“Why do you say that, Your Reverence?” the chestnut haired housekeeper queried.

“Well, she was most meek and deferential, Madame Desiree,” the fat priest answered after taking another sip of his cognac. “She promised very dutifully to accept the good Monsieur Villiers as her lawful consort and gave me her word that she would not attempt to communicate with that wretched apprentice of his. The return to her parents' cottage took much longer than I had anticipated, because apparently the poor child had suffered somewhat from the scourging I had given her and hence could not walk too quickly. Indeed, we made several stops along the way to give her respite. I solicitously inquired whether her backside was paining her, and she tried most bravely to conceal it from me. Finally, I resorted to seeing for myself and had her truss up her clothes whilst I let down her drawers just to have a look. She was not too badly marked, so I massaged her flesh for her, and that seemed to give her some comfort. But in spite of her blushes and protests that she was dying of shame, the little baggage wriggled her backside about in a way that showed she did not find my caresses too displeasing. Ah, it is fortuitous that she will be soon married and not a prey any longer for the corrupt and callow young rascals in the community, for she is too hot blooded for her own good. Her husband will know how to assuage her yearnings, I have no doubt.”

“That bony old deathshead?” the robust beauty laughingly broke in. “If you want my opinion, Your Reverence, he will not have the strength to make so much as a dent in Laurette's maidenhead.”

“Fie upon such impious opinions, with all due respect to yourself, dear Madame Desiree,” Pere Mourier chided her. “With so lovely a virgin to warm his bed, the patron will surely be roused to good appetite between the sheets with that succulent white flesh of hers. Why, I am certain that even a stone statue would come to life if it were placed beside that young hoyden!”

“But a man like Your Reverence should know that many men find timid young virgins abhorrent, because they are all tears and false modesty and do not know how to love.”

“I will concede that,” said the obese holy man, “but essentially marriage is a sacrament not meant solely for the furthering of concupiscence. The joining of the flesh is only incidental to a union of this kind. The good patron wishes to have a bride to cheer his lonely house and to comfort him with her presence, as well as to give him an heir who will one day inherit all his wealth. That will be Laurette's duty, nothing more. As it will be mine to instruct her in her obligations, once she is properly wedded.”

“I have no doubt that Your Reverence is a great authority on the matter,” Desiree vouchsafed with a sly glow in her dark eyes. “May I bring you another glass of cognac?”

“Not now, my beauty. Your charms are intoxication enough for me at this moment,” Pere Mourier chuckled. “Did you put our visitor from England to his room and see that he had all the comforts he needed for the night?”

“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.

Father Lawrence's door had not been locked, so it was easy enough for the chestnut haired Amazon to knock three times, then slip inside and then to bolt it so that no one might interrupt their session. In a moment, she had rid herself of blouse and skirt and was Eve-naked. Licking her red lips with the tip of her nimble pink tongue, she rubbed her flanks with nervous hands as she approached the cot on which the English ecclesiast lay.

“What fair visitation is this?” Father Lawrence murmured as he raised his head.

“It is only myself, Your Reverence. My employer has taken to his bed and will not need me for the rest of the night. And under the law of hospitality, I wished to look in upon you and see to your comforts,” purred the handsome wench. She knelt down beside the cot, leaning towards him so that the opulent fruits of her naked bosom dangled temptingly within reach. He groped out his hand and encountered one of those luscious turrets, and his fingers savoringly closed over the magnificent love-canteloupe.

“Your hospitality is the most delicious that has ever been tendered to me, my lovely daughter,” he hoarsely murmured. “But I would have you remember that I did not constrain you to make this sacrifice.”

“Oh, Your Reverence, it is of my own free will and eagerness. And it is no sacrifice, but rather for my own selfish pleasure. I long to feel your great cock thrusting deep within my little crevice,” whispered the beautiful, chestnut haired widow. She in turn now stretched out a soft hand and discovered that Father Lawrence had gone to bed in his natural state. The rigid, boldly erect structure of his sexual organ lofted between his thighs like a semaphore. It was this edifice which the charming wench first touched, as if by unerring instinct. At once her fingers closed over her prize, not wishing to relinquish it till it had performed its noble work within her cunny's valorous citadel. “C'est incroyable!” she breathed, “why, it is even bigger than the first time. You are surely more valorous than my worthy employer, who after but a single emission of his holy fluid, acknowledged himself defeated in his desires.”

“This is the result of good English beef, daily constitutionals, long hours of meditation and a certain continence in withholding my vigor till an occasion worthy of it presents itself,” responded the English ecclesiastic. “But I fear that this cot is far too narrow to accommodate the two of us for dalliance.”

“Oh, begging Your Reverence's pardon, for I would never dare to contradict so eminent a personage as yourself, there is a way if you will but permit me to show it to you,” Desiree murmured seductively.

“I am always eager to learn new and useful knowledge, my beautiful daughter,” was Father Lawrence's riposte. At this, the naked Amazon got astride him. Though it was pitch black in this little room off the kitchen, her female instincts guided her towards what she wanted. Crouching over him, she took hold of his vigorously swollen cock with her left hand whilst with thumb and median finger of her right she yawned wide open the moist pink twitching lips of her libidinous cunt. Then, sinking down very slowly, she introduced the meatus of his organ well within the warm lobbyway of her matrix. “Oh, it is hardly inside me, yet it thrills me beyond words!” she announced in a breathless whisper.

Father Lawrence lay prone at his ease, while content to let the chestnut haired housekeeper take such intimate initiative with him. Desiree sank down a little more, till the head of his throbbing organ moved just into her vaginal sheath. Then, assured that it was well within her keeping, she flattened herself over him, her big juicy breasts mashing hard against his straining chest as his arms welcomed her by clasping together over her smoothly satin back. Now in his turn, wanting to imprison her for complete enjoyment, the English ecclesiastic spread his muscular legs, then clamped them resolutely over the Amazonian widow's rippling, naked thighs. Her hands reached under his shoulders to grip him tenaciously as she groaned with pleasure to feel his massive organ dig to the very roots within her churning love-canal.

“Ahh, how good it is,” she moaned. “You pack me so tightly that my poor little spot can hardly breathe! Oh, let us lie like this a long while, so that I can summon all my poor strength to deal with such a monster inside of me!”

“I will give it to your keeping with my full confidence and trust, my daughter,” he panted. Retaining his left arm around her sculptured naked back, Father Lawrence groped with his left forefinger down along her spinal column till he had reached the chinkbone and thence the shadowy, narrow cleft between her jouncy bottom cheeks. Desiree, comprehending his motive, wriggled and squirmed over him till his fingertip brushed the sensitive rosebud of her behind. Having attained his objective, he pried the lips apart and entered his finger to the knuckle, then began to move it about slowly in her nether passageway.

“Aaahh, I shall die of pleasure from it, Your Reverence!” the beautiful naked widow sobbed. She fused her mouth to his, and furled in her pink tongue. Her nipples were daggers of flinty-hard passion as they scraped against his heaving chest, and her body was aglow with erotic energy. Now slowly she lifted her hips a little, feeling his ramrod grudgingly recede from the innermost crannies of her hot, voracious cunt. Her groan of delirium was matched by his own gasp of rapture from the effect of this fornicatory friction; his forefinger dug to the very hilt within her bottom-hole. Thus stimulated, the naked housekeeper sunk down to impale herself to their very hairs, and now his tongue thrust between her parted lips to fan the flames of her furious lascivious-ness. The cot creaked its protest against their combined weight, but they had no heed for this whatsoever.

“What a great pity, Your Reverence,” Desiree tremulously gasped during her transports, “that Pere Mourier engaged me just before you arrived in Languecuisse! Ohh, how good it is to feel you in both my crevices—oh, I beg of you, do not stop what you are doing to me, it is divine! With all respect to his holiness, I should have loved being your housekeeper instead—aahhh, you are bringing me close, Your Reverence!”

“Never mind, my eager daughter,” Father Lawrence gasped as he renewed his zeal, arching now to meet her wriggling perorations on his manly harpoon, the while his finger plunged in and drew back out of her quaking nether chasm, “during my sojourn in this charming village, I shall be happy to act as your confessor at any time you choose—always understanding, of course, that my worthy colleague and brother in the faith does not otherwise occupy you at the times you choose to visit me—now, my daughter, the moment is at hand for me as well, let me feel your responding strength!”

As he dug his finger to the hilt a final time and arched himself so that his furiously burdened cock could probe to the deepest recesses of her Venus, Desiree uttered a shrill shriek of transported ecstasy, which the good father promptly smothered by covering her mouth with his. Their bodies writhed and quaked in savage chaos, till at length they rolled off the cot onto the floor where they expired simultaneously amid sobbing and groaning gasps of mingled rapture.

Perching on the edge of the sagging cot, I watched with growing admiration as Father Lawrence, finding himself now in command of the situation—by rolling off, he had managed to come atop and astride his beautiful mount—at once began to fuck her again with an even greater voracity.

“Ohhh, Your Reverence,” Desiree breathed, “what a marvel you are! Even though I feel your hot spunk seething in my vitals, your blade is still wonderfully hard—oh, how it digs inside of me and finds tiny niches which it had not touched before—oh, why did not Providence grant that you saw me first in the cask this afternoon?”

“It is not mete to question the will of Providence, my daughter,” Father Lawrence gently admonished her without losing a single tempo in vigorous rhythm of plowing her well-lubricated cleft. “Is it not enough for you that I am employing your excellent services now? This is half the trouble with the world, that it pines for fantasies and does not show gratitude for what it is granted. Always remember that, my child. Now hold me tightly in your beautiful arms, and clasp your firm thighs over my buttocks so that I may not become unsaddled as we ride towards our elysian bliss together!”

Desiree at once complied and locked him with her magnificent, sturdy, satiny thighs, while he accelerated his thrusts till her face turned his way and that as a second transport neared. Once again she opened her mouth to cry out her fervent thanks for the excitement he had evoked within her loins, but the good father silenced her as he had done before. His lips and tongue feasted on hers, and they rolled over and over on the floor as the paroxysm struck them both at the same time.

When at last tranquility had calmed their inflamed senses, it was the Amazonian housekeeper who first cried a halt to this tryst, saying that she would fain spend the rest of the night in the arms of so demanding an employer, but must humbly beg a respite so that she might get up early at dawn to prepare Pere Mourier's breakfast.

When she finally crept out of his little room, she went back to hers with the lagging step of one who is joyously fatigued. Her soft sighs were like wafting summer breezes, a sign that for the time at least, the insatiable passions of this magnificent Amazon were satiated. As for Father Lawrence, he went back to his cot, stretched himself out on his back, pillowing his head on his arms, and fast fell asleep with a smile on his face that was doubtless an expression of the pleasure he had in so warm a welcome to this little village of Provence.