The Autobiography of a Flea, Book 3

CHAPTER SIX

If this were a political treatise instead of an autobiography of a humble insect who has accumulated powers of perceptions and imagination far beyond his nominal rank in the animal kingdom, I might declare at this point that Father Lawrence's acquisition of the two charming sisters was little short of a coup d'etat.

But actually the worthy English ecclesiastic had, within the short space of a few hours since setting foot for the first time in Calais, ensured a tumultuous welcome from, and acceptance by, his future colleagues of the cloth at St. Thaddeus. No mater what the rules of seniority or, for that matter, noblesse oblige, there could be no doubt whatsoever that when he presented himself at the doors of the Seminary at London, benevolently ushering in three such mouth-watering morsels as Marisia, Denise, and Louisette, even the most dour and hostile priest of that establishment could not but beam upon him for his good works in procuring as adornments within their cloistered walls such tasty tidbits of virginal femininity.

And for me, though the possibility was only hypothetical (for if I did not find some way of egress out of that accursed locket, I should inevitably perish), this latest accomplishment of the good Fathers would compel me to ponder before deciding in whose virtuous behalf to exercise my wits, my guile, and my own little arsenal of salvationary tricks. Since I was destined to return to St. Thaddeus unless some minor miracle should occur (such as the unforeseen opening of Laurette's locket), I must contrive some means to justify my existence in that all too familiar haven of holiness, even though I had once fled its boundaries and believed I should never again behold it.

Since it was plain that I needed distraction during the time it would take the good Father to journey from Calais to London, I decided to soliloquize over the future which awaited these three young graces. Since I was so entranced with France where the language is still of infinite nuances and adroit shades of meaning, I amused myself for a few moments by remarking these three graces would undoubtedly be in no position to beg grace when His Grace decided that his carnal appetites brought him to the time of saying grace before feasting on all three. In a word, dear reader, that little play on words translated simply down to the premise that these three virgins could not long expect to retain their virginity once Father Lawrence had them safely cloistered at St. Thaddeus.

Once again, the problem was theoretical, to be sure. I was aware that Marisia was a wise virgin, which is to say that while she had played lascivious little games with her dear Tante Laurette for the purpose of thwarting the lustful yearnings of old Monsieur Villiers in his aim of plucking Laurette's cherry, her dainty cunny had not yet been visited to the hilt by a male prick, and thus her maidenhead was still intact. She was virgin Prima fasciae.

However, neither I nor Father Lawrence could yet be quite certain that his two latest acquisitions (who were to find themselves diverted from their intended journeying to Algiers to discover that in being reunited with their abducted brother, Jean, they would have to go by way of St. Thaddeus and many a bedding) were actually untouched maidens. And after I had concluded all this, I further amused myself by conjecturing just how long it would take the good Father to determine their state of purification or lack of it.

It was far sooner than I had expected.

One must remember that it was still early on the final day of Father Lawrence's sojourn in la belle France. And having observed him – as well as heard him now when I could not see him – at his diligences, I could no longer be thunderstruck at any of his lay achievements. I had yet, it was true, to hear him preach a sermon from the pulpit. On the other hand, I was well-acquainted with his homilies when the pulpit was a cot or trundle-bed occupied by a flirtatious minx.

At any rate, with a girl clinging to each arm, he made his way back down the street to the inn whose owner's daughter had already heard at least one of these intimate sermons. On the way, he soothingly quieted their timorous doubts concerning whether by striking out across the Channel they were not geographically going farther away from their kidnapped brother than if they had managed to stow away on a ship bound for Gibraltar. “My daughters,” he assured them, “what I said to that villainous fellow just now was gospel truth. We at St. Thaddeus – and I say 'we' solely because, although I am but newly assigned to that order, I have already heard the most glowing reports of their righteous works – have as our motto that what is worth achieving is worth sacrificing for.”

“Oh, mon Pere,” Louisette replied in a clear sweet voice, “my sister and I are ready to make any sacrifice whatsoever if only we may find our dear brother once more and go back with him to our little farm in Beaulieu.”

“C'est bien vrai,” Denise agreed in her provocatively husky voice, “there is nothing Louisette and I wouldn't do if only to see Jean once more.”

If I had been gifted with the powers of ventriloquism, I might have, irreverently, at this point, interjected the cynical comment that it was very likely that they would be called upon to sacrifice everything they had, once inside the walls of St. Thaddeus, then it would be required of them to have the patience and fortitude of veritable young saints if they expected that through graciously obliging fucking they would see the face of their lost brother. Quite conversely, they were most likely to see the faces of a dozen or more lubricious and sturdy priests intent upon comforting their sisterly sorrow by offering the view of a turgidly veined and throbbing prick by way of proxy for the visage of their adored brother.

“Only a man of stone,” Father Lawrence observed, “could turn a deaf ear to such fervent applications. But here we are at this modest little inn which my ward and I occupy till this evening. Our good host, I feel certain, will provide a separate room so that you two may be together. Of course I will go with you to make certain that you are properly and hospitably installed, and then I wish to hear your confessions, as I have already mentioned.”

“Oh, mon Pere,” Denise murmured, “I can swear that Louisette and I have been very good girls since we left Beaulieu to come in search of poor Jean.”

“We shall see, my daughter. Goodness is not only a state of the flesh, but a state of mind which surmounts the weak, frail body which houses our spirit. Besides, if what I suspect is true, you are both yet too innocent and too young to know what sin truly is, which makes it all the more imperious that I should warn you of its dangers, my daughters.”

The landlord now appeared, obsequious as ever, and Father Lawrence directly requisitioned a room for his two new protegees, saying in a lordly manner, “You will add this to my reckoning, my good host. And in about an hour, have your charming daughter bring these forsaken waifs a bowl of nourishing soup, some crusty bread and good cheese to fortify them for the journey across the Channel.”

“It shall be done exactly as you wish it, your Grace,” the landlord exclaimed. I heard him stride to the back of the room, and call out in a loud voice the name of his baggage of a daughter. But I did not have the chance to hear the conversation that ensued between them, since Father Lawrence was already urging Denise and Louisette up the stairs to their new quarters. “Later, after you have made your confession and then partaken of nourishment and enjoyed a refreshing little nap, my little daughters,” he told them, “I shall introduce you to my young ward Marisia who, like yourselves, first saw the light of day in this beautiful land of the fleur-de-lis. The three of you will, I pray, become inseparable companions and thus give each other joy and at the same time, for the two of you, Denise and Louisette, the humility and docility which it will be required of you to demonstrate before you can expect to see your brother Jean freed by the rapacious Bey of Algiers. Ah, a charming large room, with a view of the harbor. It is a pity that the rain has begun to fall again and that the skies are leaden, but remember, my daughters, in the moment of greatest adversity and when all seems dark, the sun is certain to cast its warm, benevolent rays once again!”

Father Lawrence now proceeded to ask the two sisters if they had informed those dearest to them whither they were bound. “Oh, no,” Denise at once replied.

“But that was selfish, my dear child,” he rebuked her, “for your mother will grieve and think you dead, not knowing the valorous reason that made the two of you run away from home.”

“He's right, Denise,” Louisette thoughtfully interposed, and the charming Denise said somewhat sulkily, “Well, it was really your idea, and Maman was out in the fields and there was no time to tell her if we wanted to ride in the cart with Guillaume.”

“And who is this Guillaume, my child?” Father Lawrence queried.

“He is the son of the farmer next to us, mon Pere,” Denise replied. “He is only two years older than we are, but very shy. Indeed, it was Louisette who had to convince him how important it was for us to reach Calais. And besides, he was a good friend to our brother and wished him back. That was why he agreed to help us run away.”

“But if, as you say, my daughter, this Guillaume is shy in the presence of young demosielles like you, how was it that he was induced to aid you?'

I heard Louisette giggle, and then Denise interposed somewhat petulantly, “You should be ashamed of yourself, naughty one!' And after that Louisette indignantly retorted, “I did not ask you for your opinion, Denise!”

“Tut, tut, my daughters, bickering such as this is exactly how Cain and Abel made history. I think, moreover, it is time for our little confession. And since you are the older by chronology, Louisette, I shall begin with you. Denise, if you will go down the hall two doors and then knock three times at the third door, you will meet my ward, Marisia. Tell her that you are going with her to St. Thaddeus and that it was my wish for the two of you to become acquainted. When it is time for your confession, my daughter, I will send your sister after you.”

“Oui, mon Pere.”

I then heard the door open and close and knew that Father Lawrence was alone with Louisette.

“And now, my child,” he said in a kindly tone, “you are to tell me all there is to know about this Guillaume. Do you-not see, my daughter, that in many a court of law, he would be accused as your willing accomplice if what you have done was against the tenets of propriety.”

“I only told him, mon Pere, that Denise and I had to find Jean and that we were going on a journey. Besides, I asked him to wait until nightfall and then tell Maman why we had done what we had done.”

“I see. That somewhat mitigates your thoughtlessness. Well, now, understanding that your mother is not in terror that you two may have come to an evil end, how was it that you managed to convince this young man that he should aid you in leaving your dear mother on such an exploit?”

“I – I told him I would let him kiss me when we got to Calais, mon Pere,” Louisette faltered.

“And did you keep that promise, my daughter?”

“Y-yes, mon Pere. Not once, but several times. But I let him, you see, because he is very handsome and yet he blushes like a girl whenever he is in the presence of one. I wanted to let him feel like a man, so I gave him more than was in the bargain.”

“Well, although that was a slight sin, it surely did not have evil as its motivation, but rather compassion. I will remember that when it comes time to give you your penance, my daughter. Go on.”

“But – but there's nothing more to tell, mon Pere. He bade us a fortunate journey and told me to bring his best wishes to Jean when we saw him. And then he drove back to Beaulieu.”

“Had you ever before that time let Guillaume kiss you, my daughter?”

What a court prosecutor the good Father Lawrence would have made had he turned his talents of rhetoric and persuasiveness to that profession! But I could see his tact. Gently and yet cunningly, like a guide who takes you by the sleeve in an unknown city and leads you where he will without your once being aware that he has his reasons for the route he takes, Father Lawrence was determining the extent of Louisette's maidenliness… or lack of it, to be sure!

“N – not really, mon Pere,” Louisette faltered.

“My child,” he said gravely, “you see me now in my black cassock and hat of Mother Church. You as penitent are come to the confessional, and it lies heavily upon your immortal soul to speak the truth, without shame – for there is shame in deception and concealment, since expiation is granted those who have sinned and yet have heart to avow it – and so you must not dissemble with me. Was that the first time you and he had kissed, my daughter?”

There was a slight pause, and then in a voice so faint I could scarcely make it out, Louisette breathed a calm, “No, mon Pere.”

“Ah, that is better, my daughter. You have already taken the first step away from perdition. So how long had you and this rascal of a Guillaume exchanged sweet busses and clippings and sighings, like two doves who play at mating though they are not yet ready for it?”

“For – for about a year, mon Pere. But it was not in sin, mon Pere, because I had hoped that he would become my betrothed. I wished to wed with him perhaps in another year. And though he is shy, mon Pere, I like this because he does not make eyes at other girls or try to pinch them the way Michel Devrier, who is fat and stupid and smells bad always from the stable, always tries to do.”

“I admire your frankness, my daughter. But had you gone farther than the chaste kiss in all this while?”

“I – I am still a maiden, mon Pere.”

“That was not what I asked you, my dear child,” Father Lawrence said reprovingly. “Remember, the confession is not yet over. The truth, my daughter!”

And at that moment, I believed he might have been the reincarnation of the famous Torquemada, that baleful familiar of the Holy Inquisition, before whose terrible powers of denunciation and persuasion no heretic dared stand. His voice had taken on a timbre of grandiloquence, and Louisette must have been properly impressed, for her next answer came in a kind of little gasp: “I swear we didn't play at husband and wife, mon Pere!”

“Then you are truly virgin?”

“Oh yes, mon Pere!”

“And if you have just now told me the truth, Louisette, it can do no harm to tell me the rest of it. What playful games did you and Guillaume indulge in during this past year of your understanding shall we say?”

“Why, mon Pere, he – he sometimes would kiss my neck and my bare arm, and sometimes, when I got him to be very bold, and to give up his blushing, he would put his hand on my knee.”

“Under your kirtle or outside it, my daughter?”

There was a short pause, and then a stammered little gasp: “U – under it, mon Pere, but only for a little time and not as high as my culottes,” (This, dear reader, meant that Guillaume's hand had not quite reached her pussy, which the dear child kept shielded in her virgin estate with a pair of drawers doubtless made of some cheap cotton, since only fine ladies and not farmers' offspring have the wherewithal to purchase undergarments of silk.)

“I applaud your candor, my daughter. And now let me speak even more frankly, and you must do the same. Have you or Guillaume ever watched the mating of the beasts in the field?”

“Oh, yes, mon Pere, many times. His father owns a bull that is named Hercule and my Maman has Daisy, which is our only cow. And Guillaume's father last November brought Hercule to Daisy's stall. He and Maman did not see me, so I was able to watch all that took place. C'etait epatant!”

“Oh, my daughter, what you have just said makes me shudder that you have discovered prurience at so tender an age!” he said in a grave voice. “Now tell me – and you must answer truthfully – when you saw this act of mating, can you say in all honesty that you did not desire Guillaume to attempt the same act with you? Do you know how it is that the husband and wife come together in sacred matrimony, my daughter?”

“But of a certainty, mon Pere,” now the dear child spoke with almost wonder, as if considering it incredible that the English ecclesiastic did not deem her mature and wise enough to comprehend what fucking was.

“And you give me your solemn word of honor that you and Guillaume have never acted out the play between Hercule and Daisy?” he relentlessly pursued.

“Oh, never, mon Pere!” the charming Louisette gasped.

“I am inclined to take your word, my daughter. But I would have more proof. Do you see, the Seminary at St. Thaddeus is staffed” (I very nearly burst into fleaish laughter, for the good Father had unwittingly used a word which in its utter and lascivious sense precisely designates the principle pursuit at the Seminary, namely, staff and pussy, the one into the other) “by diligent holy men who are not likely to be so indulgent with a minx as I am with you, Louisette.”

“What proof do you wish, mon Pere?”

“Why, to begin with, you will pretend that I am this Guillaume, and you will show me just how far you permitted him to let his sin-intending hand to ascend on your fair limbs. To give this greater verisimilitude, I shall take off my cassock and hat, so that I will look more like a man such as Guillaume himself is, though admittedly I am far older. There, I am ready. Now, so that we may have the exact duplication of the scene which the two of you played, tell me this: were the two of you sitting or lying upon the ground or in a bed of straw in the barn?”

“Why, Father, sometimes both.”

“Oh, my child, then this has happened more than once?”

“Of course, mon Pere. After all, Guillaume was to be my betrothed. And in Beaulieu there are other very pretty girls who would steal him away from me if they could and who would have given him even more than I did, so I did not think it was wrong to hold him to me by such innocent little devices.”

I perceived here that the charming Louisette was in her own way as purposeful and guileful as good Father Lawrence, and I silently applauded her. At least this discussion served to take my mind from the insurmountable fact of my imprisonment, and acted thus as a mental stimulant for which I was most grateful. “Well, then, my child, we shall take one or the other of these locales in our enactment of your naughtiness. Let us, for the sake of comfort, use this good bed, which is sturdy and wide, to approximate the bed of straw in the barn. Do get upon it and lie as you did when Guillaume made his advances.”

Another moment or two followed and I heard the creaking of the bed, as the charming creature ascended it and took her place. Then I heard her call, “This is how I was on the day before Shrove Tuesday, mon Pere.”

“Now you must show just how Guillaume behaved and in what position he was when his hand slid under your kirtle, my daughter,” Father Lawrence said, and then I heard the bed creak more noisily with his great weight and strength and he too assumed his place upon it. I was in his cassock pocket, but evidently not too far from the bed, for I could hear clearly all that proceeded.

“It – it was like this, mon Pere. He lay on his left side towards me on my back, and he stared at my face and he blushed like a timid girl. Then I told him that if he loved me truly, he would not just stare at me but would find ways to praise me if he found me pretty.”

“So then you were the temptress rather than he being the seducer, my daughter?”

“Why no,” the dear child naively responded, “I did not do anything but suggest to him how he could please me. It was up to him to do it or not.”

Father Lawrence had indeed met his match in Louisette! Her casuistry was as able as that of the most skillful heretic in all Christendom who found himself on trial for his very life at the stake, if he could not avoid the ingenious pitfalls set for him by the bevy of Grand Inquisitors. I strained my flea-ish ears so that I would not lose a single word of this fascinating conversation.

“Well, we will let that pass for the nonce,” he said, and I thought I discerned a certain heaviness and huskiness in his voice. Also, there was another creaking of the bed which suggested that he had moved still closer to the charming Louisette. “Now show me exactly what happened next on the occasion of which you speak, my daughter.”

“Why, Father, I had hold of his hand, which was trembling, and I moved a little closer to him while at the same time drawing his hand toward my limb till his fingertips rested on my ankle. And then I stared up at him and said that it was very pleasant to be touched by one's intended fiance.”

“Well,” Father Lawrence thoughtfully responded, “it cannot be gainsaid that there is truth in that maxim, though from it may spring more dangerous ramifications which you yourself might never have intended. But continue, and spare not a detail of the incident, on your hope of salvation, my daughter!”

“Well, mon Pere,” Louisette continued in her charmingly sweet, little voice, “his fingers seemed to leap away as if he were afraid of being burned. But when I said that I was not offended, presently he put his hand back again, and this time all fingers firmly, on my calf. I kissed him on the tip of his nose and I giggled and I told him that I liked him very much and that it was very pleasant to have his fingers touch me so. Whereupon he kissed me hard upon the mouth and, doubtless in his excitement, mon Pere, his hand seemed to slide upwards. Before I knew its destination, it had slid under my kirtle and along my bare thigh just to the hems of my culottes. I then grasped his hand through my kirtle and told him it was not yet seemly for him to be so bold so soon, at least not till we were properly betrothed and had our banns read from the pulpit.”

“That was sensible and righteous, my daughter. But do not stop now, for you are at the very crux of your confession. Now, let me understand you, Louisette. You were lying thus and Guillaume – whom by now I am proxy for – was on his side towards you. It was his right hand, I presume which fell upon your dainty little limb?”

“Oui, mon Pere.”

“And then, from what you have just now told me, you kissed Guillaume hard on the mouth with his right hand already upon your slim ankle, like so? Well, let us repeat precisely those past actions, so that I may judge your audacity or ingenuousness, as the case may be.”

“Oh, Father, I – I should never be so bold as to offend you!”

“It will offend me more if you do not obey your guardian, dear Louisette. Come, kiss me now upon the mouth, and tell yourself that I am in Guillaume's place as his substitute.”

Upon such eloquent urging, many a far more mature female than the charming Louisette had capitulated to Father Lawrence. So I was not surprised when I then heard the sound of a smacking and rather long kiss, which, knowing Father Lawrence as I did by now, I am certain that he himself prolonged and abetted. There was now a stifled little squeal as Louisette fairly gasped out, “Oh, Father, F – Father, Guillaume did not put his hand up as high as that, truly he did not! Oh, and his fingers were never inside my culottes – oh, oooh, Guillaume – I mean, Father – you must not do that, it tickles me so much that my senses begin to swim!”

“Are you certain that this gentle young man did not, once he had found how satiny smooth the bare skin of your thigh is, dear Louisette, wish to taste with his sensitive fingers the sweetest fruit of all which nestles between those shapely limbs? Never once?”

“Oooh, m – mon Pere, well, perhaps just once, but it was over and not inside of my culottes. And that was on the day when he swore to me that he truly wished to wed with me, last week, when I begged him to help Denise and me to reach Calais.”

“So, my daughter, you have not been entirely honest with me, telling me at first, as you did, that it was only through the expedient of a few harmless kisses that Guillaume was willing to be your accomplice in this naughty and thoughtless escapade. Well, for your penance, since I now am not priest but man beside you, as Guillaume was, you shall have the proper conclusion of these licentious advances which you yourself contrived to bring about. And if I mistake not, Louisette, Guillaume must certainly have behaved very much as I shall now. I am going to tickle your tender little cunny, just as I am sure he either must have done or at least dreamed passionately of so doing. Ah, how delicate and dainty the lips are, and how they quiver and shrink with sensitivity though my forefinger scarcely brushes them! Oh, what is this? I feel a suspicious moisture, like the first drops of the morning dew upon the rose! And you begin to wriggle your saucy bottom on the bed as you feel my touch, do you not, Louisette? No, do not try to move away, for remember that we are enacting in full candor and unashamedly the secret tryst between you and myself who am now Guillaume!”

“Ooo, aahh, m – mon Pere, mon – oh, Guillaume, Guillaume, I cannot stand what you are doing, it is so sweet, it is so torturing, ohhh, mon petit con, you are making me burn with longing!”

Louisette's sweet clear voice had now taken on a huskiness not unlike Denise's. He had achieved that confession of fleshly weakness by frigging her soft virgin cunny.

“Now, my daughter,” he continued in a voice that was hoarser than ever, “you must tell me what he did with his left hand, which in your recital seems to have been unoccupied all that while. Take your own hand and hold my left and guide it to the place which Guillaume admired on that occasion.”

“Oh, Father, I – I shouldn't ever dare!”

“Take care, my daughter, lest I visit severe penances upon you for all your naughty deception. Do as I order, and no harm will befall you.”

“V – very well, mon Pere. It was here that Guillaume's left hand applied.”

“On your tittie! Oh, the rogue, the young scoundrel! Do you not see, my daughter, that by trying to play the guileless fool Parsifal, he was ingeniously achieving the goal of Lucifer himself! Taking pity on his innocence, as your good, young girl's heart bade you do, you allowed him to take liberties with you which only a husband should take with his beloved bride, and this without declaration of the holy banns. Oh, the wretch, would that I had him here before me to scourge him for his lubricity!” thundered the English ecclesiastic.

Then there was a moment's silence broken by the creaking of the bed and Louisette's soft, slurred moan of fleshy rapture: “Aaahhh! Oh, where have you put your finger, F – Father, oh Guillaume, you are touching my little button now, oh, I have never felt this way before, oh, oh, mon amour, do not stop now, I am going to faint with the sweet pleasure of it!”

“Yes, dear Louisette, I am tickling your clitoris, and since I have now discovered the very key to your truest and most hidden emotions, your recital must take on the same honest display of truth. So tell me instantly, upon pain of many a penance, while Guillaume's left hand was upon your tittie, what were your own hands doing?'

“They – they – oh, mon Pere, do not make me say it!”

“But you must! The truth, my daughter!”

“They – they were touching his limbs,” Louisette faltered between two long ecstatic sighs.

“Then put those naughty little hands on my person, since I am the proxy of Guillaume.”

“It – it was somewhat thus, mon Pere,” again she faltered.

At the same instant, hardly before she had finished that sentence, Louisette uttered a soft cry of astonishment and then came these stirring words: “Oh, mon Pere, mon Pere, what is this I am touching? It is hot and hard and it trembles at my touch!”

“That, my daughter, is Guillaume's prick. Confess it now, the touch of it cannot be new to you?”

“Oh, F-Father!”

“You must answer, for the confession has not yet concluded! Do you mean to tell me, my daughter, that your soft virgin fingers dared touch the cock of this young wretch?”

“Oh yes, mon Pere, many times!” was Louisette's equally astonishing answer, followed by an impertinent little giggle as the minx forgot the seriousness of her situation and recalled the idyllic stolen moments with her young swain.

“Oh, what a forward hussy, what a Lilith, what a Borgia!” he said sadly.

“But, mon Pere, you did not ask me if I had done that. You asked me only if Guillaume and I had played husband and wife, and that I swear on my soul and on my virginity that we never did.”

Did I not say that this Louisette was the equal of any adroit antagonist who ever faced the dread Torquemada?

“At last we have the truth, my daughter. Righteousness has triumphed. Well, now, since we are still re-enacting the scene between you and that cunning rogue, I order you to repeat exactly, so far as your memory suffices, those things which the two of you perpetrated together. And you will tell me what you are doing as you proceed, so that I can detect the line between veracity and deception. Proceed, my daughter!”

There was another gasp, and then Louisette stammered, “I turned a little to face him, F – Father, and my right arm went round his shoulders so that I might kiss him more freely, knowing how shy he was and thereby preventing his breaking away from me. My other hand took hold of his bite.”

“I am not entirely familiar with that term, my daughter. Is it the same as becque?” the English ecclesiastic hoarsely demanded.

“Oh yes, F – Father, it is one and the same thing.”

“Go on, my daughter. Our English word for it is prick or cock or prong, but an imaginative maiden, like an imaginative suitor, may well find new terminology for the source of her greatest pleasure.”

“I began – I began,” Louisette was plainly embarrassed, not quite being able to forget that this proxy of Guillaume was nothing more than a mere man, “to – to stroke his bite very gently so as not to frighten him. But apparently I must have done so, since almost all at once he discharged a hot burning emission into my little palm.”

“Oh, my daughter, my daughter, that was the vital essence of life that Guillaume bestowed upon you, a veracious indication of his true intentions toward you,” Father Lawrence vehemently declaimed. Since he did not take your maidenhead, it shows that he at least has some honorable qualities to his otherwise immature nature. Well, my daughter, since I am still Guillaume beside you, perform upon me just that which you did upon him whose embodiment I am!” And now his soft voice was trembling with a fiery anticipation.

“With – with just two fingers, at first, F – Father, I had begun to stroke him – there,” Louisette confessed in a quivering tone which showed that she too was affected by this 're-enactment.'

“Ah, my daughter, if you continue thus, I promise you that you shall have all of my vital spunk. Or, to use another term which we English are most fond of in our graphic descriptions of such carnal joys, my gism, my seed, or my cockjuice. Oh, continue, my daughter, gently, gently, and I will show you that your Guillaume has more endurance than you dreamed of!”

He evidently did, for it was a long moment before I heard him utter a hoarse bellow of indescribable rapture, and all the while the bed was creaking gently as Louisette was undoubtedly plying her soft slim fingers to the mighty prick of her 'proxy swain.'

“Now, my daughter, since you have been truthful with me, and honest to the core, I will grant you dispensation and pleasure in turn. Come, hoist up your kirtle so as not to rumple it for the journey that lies ahead of us this night. Ah, what charming, slim thighs, yet so promising in their curving contours! The exquisite musculature, the satiny and breathtaking creamy skin which covers them leads my eager eyes and fingers – as was the case with my juvenile embodiment, I am certain! – towards that secretive little oasis of paradise. Ah, what a delicious pussy, what a charming, delicate – yet not too shy – adorable little cunny! How soft the little curls are which shroud it so modestly! But I cannot see them plainly enough, so you must remove your culottes. Now do not stare at me so, my daughter, for this is simply the re-enactment.”

“But, mon Pere,” Louisette stammered, “he – he did not take down my culottes that time.”

“What? Faithless jade, do you imply that on some other occasion which you have not yet confessed that he did descend your final veil of virginal modesty?”

“Oh, oui, mon – mon Pete,” came a faint avowal from the exquisite Lilith.

“Alas, my child, you have put me out of sorts by leading me along a false route for so long. But we shall correct that in another session. For the nonce, my daughter, I will remove that veil for you; have confidence in me because what I now do is done as your confessor. There – oh, just as I perceived it through the thin white cotton! A veritable oasis of bliss, soft and pink and delicate, and how fragrant!” There followed the sound of a long moist kiss, and then a frantic squeal: “Aiii! Oh, mon Pere, mon Pere, I have never felt anything like that before!”

“Well, my daughter,” Father Lawrence quipped, “your Guillaume is young, and with the passing of time there come ever new ideas to the fecund mind who will absorb them. If that is good, I will continue in kind. There… and there again… and now upon the little button itself Guillaume's kisses. And now Guillaume's tongue to round out the good work and to search out the daintiest, most sensitive recesses of that sweet little cunny.”

“Ahhhh!!! Oh, mon Dieu, I am going to go – oh – hurry – Guillaume, hurry, you are making me die. Aaahhh!”

There was a wild and prolonged cry of unutterable rapture as Louisette gave down her virgin dew to the lips and tongue of her Father Confessor. And after a long moment, I heard him say in a satisfied voice, “You have absolved yourself from sin, my daughter, with your candor. Now do you take yourself to the water closet to repair the vestiges of our proxy drama, and I shall seek your sister to learn how she and my lovely ward are conducting themselves.”