The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 3

CHAPTER TWELVE

A scant half hour later, having doubtless freshened their sweet persons from the rigor of the journey by coach from Dover, Marisia, Louisette and Denise, accompanied by my unwitting jailer, came down to a table in the main dining hall of the inn to consume the viands prepared for them. Good Thomas regaled the three fair damsels with extravagant and flowery phrases, most of which they of course did not understand but for the prompt translations which Father Lawrence made from the English into French. Emily served the table at which the English ecclesiastic sat with his virginal wards, and from time to time, as she came to replenish the flagon of ale – or of milk for the damsels, to be sure – or to bring another loaf of crusty brown bread and to slice another generous portion of the rare roast beef, I heard Father Lawrence commend her in terms as flowery as those his host was using to attract the attention of these nymphets.

Finally the feast was done with, and Thomas and my jailer drank a last toast in ale, and then Thomas yawned loudly and said he must be early to his bed, for on the morrow he was to provide lodging and victuals for a dozen gallants and their servants off to Dover to cross to France for the social season at the King's court.

“You are excused, my good brother,” Father Lawrence genially exclaimed, “but I marvel that with so small a household staff you can provide for all your guests without failing in some measure of service. How is it that you did not take unto yourself a wife these many years, who might even now be readying herself to share the burdens with you?”

“One need not own a cow to have milk, as you yourself well know,” replied that worthy, “and I have never felt the urge to fetter myself and submit to nagging day and night. I am happier with servants to direct, like that baggage Emily, who is humble, knows her place and, so far as female charms are concerned, is pleasant enough to gaze upon so that my guests do justice to my kitchen and my ale. Aye, if I had a wife, she would drive custom forth by ranting at them should one of the worthy gentry seek to pinch her bottom. But Emily is not so disposed, and, indeed, the baggage simpers and bridles when a worthy guest so favors her with such a posteriori attentions, considering them flattery to her station. No, give me a bound servant over a wife! Hey ho, I am yawning, and that is discourteous.”

“It is the ale and your advancing years, my brother.”

“Advancing years, do you say! You black-robed hellion, you are not so much younger that I cannot still best you at any sport, whether it be wenching or ale-quaffing!”

“I cannot accept your challenge for the very reason of my black robe. But I warrant you, if you make inquiry at some future date, you will hear good reports of my manliness. Come, my daughters, say a sweet good night to Thomas here, your good host, and wish him the most enchanting of dreams for his lonely bed this night!” This last, in French, to his wards, caused once again a chorus of sounds I could by now dispense with, but it amused good Thomas, for he commended Father Lawrence on his excellent good taste and wished him a kind of envious joy in his charge of them. And so at last he left the table, and Father Lawrence, hearing the clock chime nine hours, urged his wards to bed.

“Do you, Marisia,” he whispered into that young raven-haired siren's ear, “help Denise and Louisette be comfortable in their room, and ascertain they have the larger quarters and the wider bed. To this purpose, that you are to urge them to procure that accurate count which was essayed last sight, for it is vital that before they enter the doors of St. Thaddeus, they know to a follicle the exact number of pussyhairs which grace their virgin thighs. Go now, with my blessing, and do not let them – or yourself either, my dear child – tarry without sleep once they have completed this obligation.”

“I will see to it for you, mon Pere,” the delightful young brunette exclaimed, and then there was the sound of a fervent kiss, followed by a girlish sigh. It was plain that Marisia's infatuation with the virile English ecclesiastic was growing by leaps and bounds and that he would have ere long far more temptations than ever St. Anthony was credited with shunning.

After Marisia had left the room, Father Lawrence sighed contentedly and seated himself in a comfortable chair, to while away the time, I had no doubt, till the indentured servant girl should be free of occupation, whereupon he assuredly meant to furnish that to her. Presently he began to hum, and it was the bawdy tune he had picked up in Languecuisse and which he had so melodiously declaimed prior to his rendezvous with Georgette in the inn at Calais. But this time, after several false starts, he devised new verses pertaining to the moment soon to be at hand – or rather, to be more literal about the matter, at prick. These, to the best of my recollections, went somewhat as follows:

In the inn at Somerset, tra-la-la,

There's a bound girl who's a pet, tra-la-la.

Sweet and shy, she will not fret, tra-la-la,

Knowing my appetites she doth whet, tra-la-la.

Master Thomas, to whom she owes, tra-la-la,

Labor for her food and clothes, tra-la-la,

Tells me she's his English rose, tra-la-la,

And plucking buds is what he knows, tra-la-la.

In our boyhood long ago, tra-la-la,

Wenching ever we would go, tra-la-la.

He and I the fairest sought, tra-la-la,

Over many a cunt we fought, tra-la-la.

Twenty years and more have passed, tra-la-la,

Since we fucked the same girl last, tra-la-la.

But methinks my cock's still the stronger, tra-la-la.

Just as it is surely the longer, tra-la-la.

So to Emily's room I go, tra-la-la,

Seeking to prove that this is so, tra-la-la.

Convincing doubting Thomases is now my trade, tra-la-la,

And that's why I shall fuck his jade, tra-la-la.

I had once again to marvel at his versatility and imagination. Improvised on the spur of the moment as it was (and also, doubtless, by the spur of his aching and cunt-eager prick), it could stand critical comparison with many a ballad hawked on London streetcorners for a few pence, just as, metaphorically speaking, Father Lawrence himself could assuredly stand in comparison with any lusty man who ever proffered prodding, palpable prick to quivering, expectant female cunt.

Twice more, the life-loving English ecclesiastic repeated that witty ballad with all the suave persuasiveness of his mellow baritone, a voice with which he might have well made his fortune had he chosen that pursuit. And finally the time slipped by till the chiming of the old clock downstairs indicated that the hour had come for Emily's coming, at which time he slowly rose and silently made his way out of his room.

As he entered the hallway, I heard muffled voices coming from the top of the stairway, and Father Lawrence muttered some sort of impatient imprecation which had to do with consigning all doubting Thomases to the boiling cauldrons consigned to the nethermost recesses of the inferno to which all unregenerate sinners go, and concealed himself against a slight curving of the wall. Sharpening my auditory senses, I could just make out a dialogue which began with a man's querulous voice: “Come, Emily my saucy baggage, you will not deny your master?”

To which followed a plaintively murmured: “Oh, never would I do that, worthy sir, for you hold my indenture, yet I would beseech you to show compassion on my fatigue and weariness, for with the coming of your four new guests, I have sorely taxed my strength and want nothing so much now as benevolent sleep, that I may be fresh and eager for the tasks you set me on the morrow.”

I heard a wordless grumble, doubtless of disappointment, and then the grudging, gruff: “Ah, well, I am not one to force a wench though I hold her indenture to my bosom. Get you then to bed alone, Emily, and mind you wake before dawn, for we must provide a sumptuous breakfast to our travelers before they set out for wicked London.”

And then, “Oh, yes, that I will with right good heart, master. Thank you for your compassion, which a poor, honest girl is rarely to find this side of heaven.”

To this, in a suspicious tone: “Why, look you, Emily, I would not have you confuse my good nature with the sanctimonious platitudes spouted by men who wear black cloth and gloomy faces and tell their beads, or next you will be demanding that I give you Sunday mornings off to go hear sermons that will depress you. So bed you down and think only of your indulgent master, who has not taken cane or strap to your plump backside in longer than is rightly good for a bound servant. Good night!”

“And to you too, good master, a most good night!”

“Aye, that would it be if you would be less fatigued – but look you, Emily, you may rest at the same time, for I am not an importunate man and can fuck a wench while she reclines comfortably 'pon her back without so much as moving. An' if you would but let me try, I would not fault you if I should discover you had gone off fast to sleep while I was completing my pleasure.” This last, hopefully.

A giggle then ere this insinuating flattery which sent the ravening wolf from the door of this sweet fearful lamb: “Oh, master, would that it were so, and I would gladly bid you enter. But you know well, sir, that each time you have engaged my little slit with your monstrous big prick, I have been urged to forsake passive and docile submission to its inroads, for its thickness and length scrape and pierce me so vitally that I must respond or else faint dead away. And I fear me sorely that wearied as I am at this moment, I would do you great disservice by not responding.”

A longdrawn sigh of thwarted desire ensued, after which good Thomas glumly announced, “No, 'tis true, I would not fuck a wench who did not clamp legs and arms about me and bite and scratch like a vixen taken in a trap, since fucking is more than meat to meat, it is substance and sustenance and combat and sweet conclave all in one. Therefore get you to bed quickly ere I repent my good nature which holds me back from ripping off your shift and entering that timid little crevice of yours whether you will allow me or not. For it is in my nature once I fuck, that I demand my receptive partner to announce with all loud exclamations of joy and frantic movements of her bottom and loins that she is blessed among wenches to feel so mighty a cunt-chafer inside of her, for to receive me otherwise would be to insult my manhood.”

“And that I would never do, were it to cost me hope of your destroying my indenture, good master,” the pert Emily at once gracefully retorted.

“Well then – since it is thus and is unchangeable by the very nature of my good nature – good night to you, fair Emily.” Would he stand there all night long wanting to stand a somewhat more pressing way, saying his sorely disappointed good nights? “Again, good night, good master.” And this time Emily gently closed her door. “Odds bodkins! I know not why I am so indulgent to that teasing slut,” I heard the landlord grumble as he descended the stairs, which creaked beneath his weight enough to impress me into believing that his horizontal weight upon sweet Emily would have produced as loud a creaking of the bed which hymned their carnal conclave.

Father Lawrence waited a long moment till the inn was silent, and then he made his way slowly to Emily's door and tapped gently. Instantly it opened, and I heard her gasp, “Oh, quickly, Your R-Reverence, before my master hears.”

“He is gone downstairs back to his bed by now, my daughter.”

“Ohh, th-then you heard him just now?”

“Every word, my daughter. But if you are too fatigued, I will not keep you up a moment longer.”

“I am fatigued of him, to tell the truth, Y-Your Reverence.”

“Oh? How so?”

“He is at me like a bull even when I am not of a mind to play the heifer to his bellowings, Y-Your Reverence. And because I am under indenture to him, I know I must serve his will, yet that takes all the pleasure from it. It is as if I were his chattel, and there is no humor in so obliging him. For, Your Reverence, even a bound girl sometimes pines to be courted, to have the say as to whether she will yield or not, without having to fear a beating – though in all justice, he is merciful in that direction.”

“I hold with your views, my dear child, for I do not countenance slavery of any kind. And, aye, I know your master well these thirty years, since we were striplings together; he has a good heart, that will I readily say of him. But does he not service you ably when you are of a mind to let him have at you?”

“Oh, Y-Your Reverence, I dare not tell you!” Once again, that simpering giggle that expressed her titillated confusion. But she stood very close to my jailer, for, though her words were muffled – perhaps because her face was reposing against his manly chest – I heard them plainly.

“When is your indenture up, my sweet child?”

“When I shall be twenty-one, Y-Your Reverence.”

“I will see that you come to no harm till then, my daughter. I will exhort him to find you a good husband when your time is served, and to settle on you a dowry of the wages you have earned all this while, for that is the law as to indenture.”

“Oh, Your-Your W-Worship!” she breathed gratefully.

His voice was hoarser now than it had been: “Not that titular appeal, my daughter, for I am not your judge, but your confidant. And thus in confidence and speaking confidentially which is the pursuance of my role this night, I say again that you are truly as fair as the daughters of Jericho who gave their warriors strength to stand against the battlements and fight valorously for the Lord.”

“You – you turn my head, Y-Your Reverence!”

“Nay now, Emily, I would have you turn yours that I may gaze upon the shimmering, lustrous mantle of your lovely hair which swathes you nearly to your hips.

Ah were you fated like the good Dame Godiva to ride the streets on a palfrey thus to move the obdurate tyranny of a noble lord who would not remit his subjects' taxes, I warrant you might nearly shield all your most intimate person with such a soft silken cloak!”

“Y-Your Reverence, you speak such fair words as no man has ever before spoken to me!”

“And yet does not your master – for I know him from the past to be one who savors the fleshy joys of our ephemeral existence – cozen you with soft words in the heat of his pleasuring with you?”

Once again the giggle of a maiden who doted on such titillating attentions, perhaps the more because, being bound, her favors could not always be so quixotically dispensed as her own ardent nature might have wished. “Oh, no, Y-Your Reverence! When he is in my bed taking his will of me, he utters rather more wordless sounds than sounding words.”

“Tsk, tsk, my daughter, that is like a pig at a trough eating his fill without pausing to reflect on the palatability of his viands nor the blessed generosity by which they are served him! Alas, my old comrade-at-arms has had his wits dulled with the passing years. And tell me, my daughter, does he sigh rapturously when his mouth sets down upon those full, enticing rosy lips of yours – as thus?” To which, suiting action to word, the English ecclesiastic applied his mouth on fair Emily's and gave her a lusty long and smacking kiss.

“Ohh! Ohh, never of late does he do that!” she gasped.

“How much he misses, that shortsighted master of yours! And this, my daughter, does he oft do this?”

I heard the rustling of garments, a tender scuffle, followed by an excited squeal of “Oooh – ahh – ouohh – Y-Your Reverence, how gentle your hands are on my arse, ohh, no, he pinches it and digs his sinewy fingers in cruelly when he is fucking – ohhhh, what is your finger doing there – ohh, how delicious it feels, you will make me cry out and then my master will hear me and know I have lied to him, for you are driving away all my fatigue!”

“Tender child, you feel my fingertip at the portals of that rear entry to pleasure which some maidens disdain as being against nature – do you not find it disturbing?”

“Oh, I do, I do, Your Reverence, of a certain, it so disturbs me I cannot wait till we are in bed – ohhh, let me but shed these garments of mine to be more ready for Your Reverence's desires, so very new are they to me!”

“Is this perchance why, my gentle Emily, you forbade Master Thomas to cross your threshold, wishing to test your fleshly powers against mine?”

“Tee hee! Oooh, Your Reverence – ahh – OH YOUR REVERENCE, ahh – ohh – you – you know everything in advance about me, do you not – ohh, how good it feels – oh how hard and red and angry-looking it is, forsooth much bigger than my master's – but you must not ever breathe a word to him that I find it so, or my poor arse will be black and blue for a dreary month!”

“Wherefore did you shriek aloud at that moment, my child?” Oh, how hoarse and throbbing was my unsuspecting jailer's voice now!

“I could – I could not help it, Your Reverence, when your finger penetrated into the little hole of my arse, for it tickled so wickedly that I very nearly yearned – oh, I dare not speak more – ohh, come to bed, I beg of you – I am longing to have that tremendously loaded pistol explode deep inside of me!”

“In the orifice where my finger was, perchance?”

“Oh, I have never had that done to me, Y-Your Reverence!”

“The thought frightens you?”

“Not so much the thought – for already, seeing you so strong and handsome and naked and like a new man I had never before espied, now that you had removed your awesome raiment, Your Reverence – but the deed itself! I could not support so massive an article inside so narrow a fissure, I am sure of it!”

“But all things are possible if one does not in advance set up impediment of the mind, my daughter, and we will try this essay after I have soothed you to it. Come, give me your lips, sweet Emily!”

By now, needless to say, they were abed, and I had been unceremoniously flung into a corner, locket in pocket of discarded cassock. But the room was small and hence I still could clearly make out what tangibly passed between them in the way of speech, even though I might not yet behold what tangibly passed between them – though, thanks again to my most articulate locket-holder, I was given graphic portrayal which you in turn, my esteemed reader, may delineate as befits your whim and fantasy.

Thus I could distinctly make out sweet Emily's somewhat ambiguously naughty response to his last query: “Which lips, Your Reverence?” which told me that the indentured beauty understood that a beneficent nature had bestowed on her three pleasure-giving, pleasure-receiving pairs.

“Those beneath your saucily upturned nose, my daughter,” Father Lawrence specified, and there was now the mellifluous music of a long impassioned moist kiss, after which Emily panted out, “Ohh, s-sir – my master has never so employed his tongue!”

“Surely you jest?”

“Oh, I never jest about being f-fucked, Y-Your Reverence,” Emily moaned in a tone which rather gave me to suppose that she was mightily absorbed in the strangely but far from unpleasantly new manner in which Father Lawrence was caressing her.

“But you should and must, my child, for fucking, being a bounty granted us after Eden, is never to be done gloomily nor hastily, lest one dull one's senses to the rarely complex nuances whereby mortal flesh is granted incomparable joys!” How well he spoke of fornicatory endeavors! I do not think in all my lifetime I had yet met one who was so imaginatively endowed to be capable of composing a very sermon on this provocative theme.

“B-but my m-master does not like his wench to jest while he is f-fucking her,” Emily quavered.

“Then I can plainly see why it was you opened the door to me, Emily, as you are about to open those other delicious portals of your most intimate person to permit my prick to journey as it has never before journeyed, for, mark you, no conscious, intelligent man should ever lose sight of the wondrous and devious implementations of carnal gratification when he is above all else bedded with a female to whom the art, though known, is yet comparatively new. And since your master has regrettably overlooked these ramifications, my greater pleasure it will be to render your sweet naked person fully cognizant of them! For example, has he ever so utilized the membrane by which he tastes his viands and his rich ale in this estimable manner?”

“Ohhh! Your Reverence! Ahh! Ohh never like that on my cunny, ohh I am dying, it is more than I can bear, ohh, how good, how heavenly it is, Your Reverence – aohhhhhouuuu!”

“Hush, hush, my daughter, keep your voice down, for when one exults unto the heavens, one cannot possibly project one's voice farther than a trumpet which cannot even reach a thousandth way to the setting sun. Yet the angels hear the faintest whisper of the penitent and the hopeful, therefore moderate your tone lest Master Thomas be summoned, like Lazarus, up from the dead of his lonely slumbers!” cautioned Father Lawrence. To which Emily hoarsely whispered, “Oh, forgive me, forgive me, Your Reverence, but what you did was like nothing ever in this world – oh, will you not do it again, and I will cram my kerchief into my mouth to hold back my cries of gratitude!”

“On such terms, gladly will I strive with you, my daughter, to reach paradise anew,” he chuckled. “But in the spirit of equality and fair play, will you not use your own soft lips and tongue to the granting of my cock's pleasure, whilst I endeavor to bring you to the zenith of fleshly bliss!”

“Ohh, whatever are you doing – getting over me and with your head between my thighs – and now I see the dangling big sacks with hair and -”

“And spunk, my daughter, a goodly offering which is like newly fermented wine for you to quaff, as I shall quaff the sweet liqueur which is distilled in the soft hidden vat of your delicious cunt!”

He had taken the pose of soixante-neuf over the bound girl, had this intrepid cocksmith. Perhaps he was motivated by the thought that tomorrow night he would spend his first night in the sanctified atmosphere of the Seminary – where he might not be permitted to spend at all, as it were – and hence sought – much as bachelors who hold what is termed a 'stag' party as a sad farewell to single blessedness seek a final orgy before contenting themselves with but a single legally granted cunt into which to spend their erotic effusions.

“Oh, prithee, Your Reverence, what are you doing to my tender slit with your lips and tongue – ooooh, eeee, ahhh, ohh, I have never felt such pleasure and such torture at the same time!” she squealed, but now it was muffled by the kerchief.

“I am gamahuching you, my daughter, and now you must French me, since I am but newly come from that beautiful country and am still imbued with the uninhibited spirit of its inhabitants!”

“How – how does one F-French, Your Reverence?”

“Do you mean to say, my daughter, that your master has not yet taught you this most tantalizing prelude to the art of fucking?”

“Oh, no – he flings me down upon my bed, or over a table, as it takes his fancy – and then, rucking up my kirtle and lowering my drawers, he plunges inside of me his great cock and thrusts it as if I were a boar to be stuck by a spear and wounded unto death, until at last his venom spurts forth and he lies heavily upon me!”

“Oh what a fall from grace is this, and how the years have dulled his perceptions and his priapic potencies,” cried Father Lawrence in right good humor to behold that he had surpassed his former cocksmith-in-arms. “Then I will instruct you, that you may in turn show your failing master a new skill in his declining years, and thus improve your lot, for in his gratitude to discover what intoxicating joys he has lacked for all this while, he will doubtless raise you to a position of honor in his household! Now, then, my dear child, open your soft lips, whilst at the same time passing your soft arms round my sturdy thighs, which will not give way, so fear no harm from my bulk, which if I mistake not, is not so great as that of your doughty master!”

“I – I am doing it, Y-Your Reverence and – and what comes next?”

“Why, now, my daughter, brush your lips – which should be in the form of a small letter O by this time – right up against the lips of that glistening and surging head which fits at the top of my cockshaft -o ahhhhhh, that is exquisite! For a neophyte, you make an auspicious debut!”

“Ohh-ohhhh…” From the stridency of these squeals, I divined that Emily had removed the kerchief from her mouth, as otherwise she could hardly have soared so high in the soprano register.

“Shh, my daughter! I am gamahuching your cunt, that is all. Now spread your thighs a little – very good, my child – ah, what an exciting oasis I perceive here, shrouded so thickly with dark brown silken curls that modestly conceal the plump pink lips of your appetizing cunt. Let us see if my tongue cannot forage through the foliage to come at last upon that sacrosanct crevice.”

“Mmm – ahh – ouououooohhhhh!” Judging by Emily's piercing cry and the sporadic creaking of her trundle bed, I deemed he had proved successful in that lingual expedition through the jungle of her fleece – and that only reminded me dourly of my own imprisonment in the by now loosened tendrils of Laurette's blonde lovecurls.

“There, I have found the sheltered nook and will pasture there till I bring you to felicity, my daughter. Do you now accord me the same sweet grace by opening your lips somewhat wider so that they may accept the very tip of my still aching cock – just so, a little more-now close those tender lips upon the morsel you have sequestered – ahhh, ohh, 'tis infinitely pleasurable, my child! Now, suck in your breath in rapid sequence, which, as you will soon perceive, works wonders even upon the most laggard of men – a precept you may retain in memory when next your master seeks to cross your threshold… go on just so, my daughter… ohh, my daughter, how obediently you perform your oblationary task, and do you not feel the hardening of my organ?”

“Y-yes, Y-Your Reverence – and the heat of it burns my lips, truly it does!”

“Have no fear of that, I know a cardinal way to put out such incendiary blazes,” he hoarsely avowed, and now I heard the slushing which his tongue made in that soft fork between her straddled thighs, and heard the convulsive starts which Emily's posterior gave to make the bed creak noisily, as well as her gasps and sighs and little joyous groans. Yet the minx was not neglecting her duties either, as I knew from the little sucking sounds that emanated from her mouth.

“And now prepare yourself, my daughter, for I mean to touch you to your very quick,” he panted. Whereupon there was a sudden catching of breath, and then Emily let forth a wailing plaint: “Aii – ouuououoohhh – ohhhh I will die of it, it is too tantalizing to keep me silent longer, Y-Your Reverence – ohhhh, not again, I feel myself transfixed as by a current of lightning passing all through my poor frail limbs.”

“If you feel restlessness, my child, solace yourself by clamping your soft thighs about my cheeks, and by their convulsive surges against my flesh, I will perceive exactly where you are most sensitive,” he told her.

For a moment Emily resumed her sucking of his cocktip, but then he must have lodged his tongue against an even more sensitive particle of her clitoris – for I was sure that touchstone of her Venus was what he had just alluded to – because the bed creaked mightily and her rising wail soared to the very ceiling if not to the listening heavens beyond: “Eeeeohhhahhhouuuuuu! Ohh ohh ohhhhh you are drawing the very life from my poor body, Your Reverence, ohh, I cannot bear it any more, oh do what must be done to end my torment!”

“Well, I had thought to drain your delicate liqueur by this lingual means, my daughter, but since you are still a young neophyte, one must not expect progress too swiftly, and there will be other times in store for you to practice with your master. Therefore open your thighs wide to receive my blade, which your delightful suckings have whetted into a savagely sharp blade for the penetrating of your cunt!”

There was more creaking as doubtless he took his place in the age-old way, and then a smothered cry from Emily, for he had silenced her with his mouth, exuding his own pent-up groan of ecstasy at the moment his straining prick jousted inside the twitching pink chasm of her churning young cunthole.

“Ohhhhhhhh, it has never been so good, Your Reverence! I must ask my master to – what did you say it was, Your Reverence?”

“To gamahuch you, my dear child. And in turn you must offer to French him, for, mark you well, when a wench can orally excite her master in two languages, her value is enhanced at least two fold. Therefore, you will let your master know that you fuck in English and French in that tongue, and, I guarantee it, my daughter, he will reward you handsomely with more attention than you have enjoyed since first you signed that indenture. But now, clasp me strongly with your firm round thighs, my child, and as it seems best to you, dig your slim fingers into my sturdy back, for now I propose to fuck you till my spunk puts out that fire of which you so mightily complain!”

And this he did, dear reader, to the accompaniment of gasps and sobs and sighs and then impassioned kisses and incoherent, trembling phrases which gave him the serving wench's accolade, for, if you would believe her avowals, she had never known what true fucking was till that ecstatic moment when first the prick of the valorous new seminarian was plunged into her eager, burning cunt. And to such an extent did he keep his pledge to extinguish that blaze of which she had so piteously complained that nothing would do but that he must begin, almost at once thereafter, a second course for which she readily fortified him by, and of her own accord, using her lips and tongue to make his tireless organ salute her before sheathing itself one more time into that willing scabbard…