“But things are not what they seem at all times, my daughter,” he banteringly replied. Perhaps it would be well to judge by actuality rather than by appearance.”
“But I would not dare offend Your Reverence,” Desiree apologetically murmured.
“That which is done sincerely is not offensive, my dear child,” he smilingly retorted.
At this, the forward young widow stooped, caught up the hems of his cassock and furled the silken garment to his waist, holding it there with one hand while she rummaged rather expertly at his drawers. In a trice she had liberated the anatomy of his sexual weapon, and her eyes widened with amazement at the sight.
Father Lawrence was prodigiously equipped. In full erection at her touch—for Desiree lost no time in clasping the middle of the shaft with her strong fingers to determine that it was in truth actuality and not appearance—his penis must have measured at least seven and a half inches in length. It was admirably thick to go with this; and the head, which rose out of a narrow groove of circumcision, was oval-shaped and slightly elongated. Its lips were thin and tightly shut together, but they were already twitching with carnal irritation from the bold enclaspment of that beautiful hand.
“I cannot believe my eyes, Your Reverence,” she exclaimed, her voice slightly trembling. “I truly would not have believed it!”
“Are you of a mind to test its measure, my daughter?” he softly inquired.
“Oh, yes, if Your Reverence would so honor a poor humble widow,” she breathed.
“Then you had best make the door sure lest your new master come in upon us.”
“I will do that at once, Your Reverence. But do not worry about Pere Mourier. He and the maiden Laurette will take a long and devious stroll before he reaches her abode, for he wishes to impress upon her the need for chastity. Besides, after he has gone to sleep, I will come to you again and we can have more time—that is, if I do not anger you by my sinfulness.”
“But you have committed no sin, my daughter. Yours is a curious inquisitiveness which both delights and inflames me.”
She hurried to the door and threw the bolt. Then swiftly she divested herself of her thin skirt and blouse, under which she was naked as she had been in the cask that afternoon. She stood before him, hands on her side, and tilted back, blushing deliciously, proud in the knowledge that his eyes roved over her sumptuous breasts, her suave, well dimpled belly, the thick luxuriant garden of dark chestnut curls which covered her mound and disappeared between her thighs, and those robust yet beautifully proportioned thighs themselves, seemingly so capable of crushing a man's ribs between their fiery embrace.
With a gasp of admiration, Father Lawrence drew off his cassock and neatly hung it from a peg on the door of the little room which would shelter him this night. Taking off his shoes and divesting himself of his drawers, he stood before her equally naked, his body wiry yet vigorous, nowhere showing emaciation or meagerness or age. And least of all did the fulminating structures of his swollen cock evince the least flaccidity of the flesh which is so common to men who attain their two score of years and more. Desiree let a sigh of admiration escape her as she moved towards him, her big breasts jiggling with each step. Her nipples were already turgid coral points of erotic anticipation, and voluptuous shivers ran along her thighs and calves at the thought of what awaited her.
She put out one soft hand to cup his heavy, hairy balls, overcharged with amorous essence, and she exalted another sigh. Meanwhile, Father Lawrence, rather than let this judging be one-sided, circled her waist with his left arm and extended his right forefinger toward the thick bush of her pubis, and began to feel for the soft pink lips of Venus themselves. Her slow little giggle and a lascivious squirming of her juicily rounded, sumptuous bottom cheeks told him that he had attained his objective. He began to rim the fleshy, soft and already moistening lips of her cunt with a lingering deliberation which at once told me, expert as I have become in such matters, that he was by no means a novice in the sweet games of Cythera.
Now she used both hands to cup and rub and massage the broad, hot, thickly veined shaft of his organ, and her breasts rose and fell with an erratic tumult as she conjectured just how that weapon would feel within her cunt.
“It is, so big, so thick and hard and hot, Your Reverence!” she whispered, “voulez-vous bien me baiser?” (which, translated, means “Do you really want to fuck me?”).
“Once a sword is drawn, it must either draw blood or be sheathed satisfyingly,” he quipped. “And since you tell me you are a widow, it follows that you are no virgin, and therefore my blade will not bleed you, my daughter. Let us proceed to sheath it, then, to your complete satisfaction.”
“Oh, yes, Your Reverence,” Desiree exclaimed.
Now it was his turn to use both hands as his lingers found the plump, palpitating lips of Desiree's cunt and drew them apart. Meanwhile, the beautiful chestnut haired Amazon daintily put both forefingers on the sides of his cock and thus steered him towards her orifice. The elongated, naked pink lip of his sword forced its way through the thick, curly ringlets which still shielded her secret bower, and then he gave himself a little forward jerk and engaged a good half of his shaft within her channel. Desiree uttered a cry of bliss: “Ohh Your Reverence! It stretches me, it pierces me! Oh, do not stop now, put all of it into me quickly!”
“With the greatest of good will, my daughter,” he told her as he took hold of her naked bottom cheeks at the base, sinking his fingers eagerly into that succulent warm flesh, and thrust himself to the very hilt till their hairs mingled. Vigorous and strong though she was, the naked Amazon nonetheless had to clutch him with her arms locked round his shoulders, for she had begun to sway and to tremble at the very first dig of his prong into her quivering chasm. She closed her eyes, her nostrils opening and closing furiously as carnal desire swept through her every limb. “Oh, it fills me, it stretches and digs so deliciously,” she moaned in her rapture.
His lips set down at the pulse hollow of her throat as he now began to fuck her with long deep thrusts. She let her head fall back, and her fingernails dug into his bare shoulders, excoriating him in her delirium.
“You are very tight, my daughter, yet there is a moistness there which tells me that you are longing for satisfaction,” he declared, without once interrupting the slow, deliberate rhythm of his coitional endeavor.
“Ohh, it is true, Your Reverence, it has been many a month since I enjoyed so magnificent a cock inside me —oh, it is so good when you push it in slowly so that I can feel every inch of it invading me and stretching me there, Your Reverence!” she gasped.
Now she began to press forward to meet his charge, with an undulating twist to her ripe, full hips that showed how furiously she was being drawn towards the zenith of carnal ecstasy. Her nails dug into his flesh almost to the blood, but in retaliation his fingers squeezed and pinched the shuddering cheeks of her succulent backside. Indeed, by tactual means he was able to communicate a kind of signal to her when he meant to thrust home his blade; when his thumbs and median fingers squeezed the edges of both plump nether hemispheres, this was a sign to her that he was delving home to her hairs, whilst when he eased the grip of her behind, that meant she should be ready to expect his withdrawal.
I heard the moist, suctioning sounds which his prong and her certainly well lubricated channel produced in this in-and-out maneuvering. The louder grew Desiree's own gasps and sobs and sighs: “Aaah! Oh, Your Reverence, no one has ever fucked me so well—I entreat you not to stop, it is too heavenly—Ooohh, harder, push it in to me till you tear me apart, I am strong and can endure such penance! Eeeeaaaiiiiih!! I cannot hold on much longer, Your Reverence, please make me spend—now—now! Oh, now!!!”
At this final ejaculation, raucous and sobbing, she crushed herself against him so her magnificent naked breasts flattened against his heaving chest. Her teeth nipped at her satiny shoulder, as his hands forced open her buttocks and he delved a forefinger's tip into the tight, pink, twitching rosette of her bottomhole. At that very instant, he forced himself forward till his balls clashed against her thick dark chestnut pubis, and with a cry of delight, announced his own fulfillment: “Yes, now, my daughter, take it all!”
I saw her Amazonian body quake and shudder as the tempestuous burst of his essence must have lashed the volutes of her womb. Their cries coalesced, just as had their flesh, and thus the most ardent widow in Languecuisse welcomed the virile English ecclesiastic. I doubted not that this other widow, Madame Hortense Bernard, needs must be almost superhumanly endowed to be able to equal, much less surpass, the passionate fervor of this chestnut haired, bold, flaunting Amazon.
After it was over, Father Lawrence mopped his private parts and hers with a cambric handkerchief, which he put to his nostrils and inhaled, closing his eyes with rapture at the memento. Desiree, swiftly donning skirt and blouse again, hastened to smooth down the worn cot, so that at least by dutiful gesture and thought of, hers she would sleep better that night. Then, drawing the bolt of the door, she turned to him, her face radiant, and whispered, “I shall knock three times, Your Reverence, after Pere Mourier has begun to snore. Once he does that, I
