peasant is fucking her too… he is in her, and moves slowly, in spite of her disgust he feels pleasure coming and she gives herself to that male. But he is selfish, and he comes before she could be satisfied, once again the hot and greasy substance is in her… He moves out, leaving her disappointed.
She remains there, members ajar, thighs open, from her sex, sperm is drooling… mixed with blood.
But he gets excited again… The others, exhausted by their libations, are yawning on their chairs, their big hands resting on their knees… Barral takes the girl to the bench, lies on his back, and obliges her to straddle him. He forces her to impale on his prick… One little cry, and the girl is glued to him… He gives the monk a signal… the latter, understanding what he is expected to do, straddles Barral thighs, and also the bench, and aims at the offered ass-hole. One more sigh, and the girl feels the monk's belly glued to her ass.
Under the double penetration she sighs softly… But this time it is from pleasure, and the monstrous coit happens… The flesh shivers… The hands palpate, caress… either the breasts or the belly… Moans of the girl, almost immediately stopped by Barral's mouth… And under the yellow light of the oil lamps, comes the love song of the oversatisfied woman…
The three dobies remained motionless, crumpled over each other… Then the monk moves out of the ass… The girl gets up, and the flattened prick falls softly on Barral's balls. Barral gets up and caresses the warm and still hurting breasts.
The girl smiles and her marked eyes are a testimony of the violence of the assaults that she just endured… She wants to go, and wash, but Barral holds her…
“No… Not now… not yet, you are my life, and you are going to keep my seed in you… and he kisses her.”
He obliges her to dress again… And again she becomes the young bride that she was a few hours earlier. Before she puts her panties on, they asked her to take some provocative poses… Displaying her cunt and her ass… Her legs propped up… Then at last, all of them being dressed again, they go down.
Janine, behind them, goes back to her room… Her finger slippery with her own come juice from the many masturbations that she did in front of all those exciting postures…
Monique was listening passionately to that account. She abandons her exacerbated body to Janine's lips, and three times in a row, she comes furiously under the child's caress.
They were late for dinner… They took a date for the next day, in their little love nest after the bath…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MORE MONK'S BUSINESS…
Monique, quite exhausted, went to bed early, but could not sleep well… She dreamt all night about whipped brides, raped, and sodomized women… White veils symbolically covering half naked bodies…
The next morning, her mouth tasting bitter Monique realized that she was needing the contact of the male, and she decided that she would soon remediate that lack in her needs.
In the morning she got her kicks with little Jacques and let him contemplate her belly and her intimities, and she also let him suck for a long time at her breasts.
Around noon, she called Darcourt on the phone. He was very happy over it, and asked her whether she would like to come to his place for a glass of port after the bath. He said that he was receiving two monks (Chartreux: a monastic order specialised in the fabrication of spirits. NDLT).
“Then in plain clothes?” asked Monique disappointed.
Max hesitated, then:
“Well, half and half… Unless my instinct is in completely wrong…”
I think you will have to play quite a part after the usual glass of port. They are interested in art, and whoever says art, means amateur of beauty… I do not think that you will have to put any underclothes… after all I have got such good mirrors at home-Monique smiled and accepted.
On the beach she told Janine that she could not stay with her, the poor child was ver upset over it all… Then Monique returned home to get dressed. She put on transparent black silk stocking, high heels, and then hesitated a little in front of her drawers, trying to find out the most suitable attire. She finally selected a black silk skirt, that went slightly above the knee, and a long sleeve, black coton cardigan, that could not leave one of her curves unsuspected. She added a little white lace collar… No powder, no rouge, but a little beret on her simply combed hair, that added to her childish looks. She thought that her breasts were showing outrageously and put on a little black bolere. A book in one hand she crossed the little wood that separated her villa from Max's home. He was in the sitting room, in full conversation with two monks, in their forties, looking smart and rather handsome. Her bolero open, her legs crossed higher than usual, Monique was taking part in the conversation, trying to follow the men's eyes under her skirt.
She was hot… having too many clothes on her. Max realized it and:
“Why don't you take off your bolere, you must be boiling?”
“Well, as I have nothing under my cardigan… I am afraid that I would not be too decent…”
“Now, now, said one of the monks… I hope that this will not stop you… We do not want to be the cause of your discomfort, and your cardigan, that fits you quite well could not be more decent. Besides that is just a friendly reunion, is it not Darcourt?”
He agreed. Monique stood up and took off her bolero. Her voluminous bosom immediately showing under the too thin material, like a pair of gorgeous cantaloupes. She was watching their excitement grow in their eyes, and was getting her kicks from it. She looked like a little schoolgirl as to her face, but a fully formed woman, as to the figure.
Max asked her to be the maid of the house, and she accepted, her natural taste for exhibitionism finding a perfect way to express itself in that occupation.
She brought a little table, made of glass, by the window. It was a very nice old fashion iron mongered thing, that hardly came level to her knee. She placed four glasses on it. On a nearby tray she placed the bottle filled with cool and sparkling wine and the little amuse gueules.
The three men came close. Her back to the window, Monique faced them across the table her knees touching it. She started pouring the liquid in the glasses. It took her one single glimpse to see that her trick was a complete success. The three men, while speaking more slowly, were staring at the table, on which the skirt, open like a lamp shade, was reflecting the thighs, the and the velvety triangle of her pubis. Max glanced approvingly at Monique's showing how much he appreciated her delightful idea.
She gave him a glass, then turning around she offered them, while preparing the cake, the exciting sight of her tightly closed buttocks, and rotund bottom.
The collation went on like that… the white wine, but also the pointing breasts under the cardigan, the thighs outrageously displayed by the mirror of the table, were as many reasons to the men's excitement. While cutting the cake, she opened her thighs, and when she turned around she guessed, by the way they looked, that the men had completely discovered the secrets of her femininity.
But she soon got another idea… As they thought that the weather was delightful, she proposed to carry some cushions by the window, and they all sat on the ground, facing the sea… She then cleared the glass table, feeling if it was solid, and then sat on it, avoiding to have her skirt under buttocks. Her flesh was in contact with the cold mirror. She crossed her legs, and the skirt was lifted over the knees… Monique was slightly reclining, her hands on the table… Smoking an oriental cigarette. Under the skirt, the closed thighs, half leaning on the table, were reflected in a symphony of blacks and whites…
The men, facing her now, were looking at the silk clothed flesh, and the little bar of the garters, on each side of her thighs. Little by little, Monique opened her legs, slowly displaying for them the inside of her highs and its reflexion. Through the screen of her eyelashes she was following the eyes of the men, impatiently waiting for the moment when the com ass of her legs will be open largely enough to allow a complete vision of her sex. Out of fun, she moved her knees very slowly, the suddenly she bent on one side, to put the ashes of her cigarette in an ashtray, on the table by her side, she opened her legs completely, uplifting one for more security. She remained like that for a good moment, excited by the sudden density of the silence, and also by the caress of all the looks that
