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.
CHAPTER TEN
The next day was virtually a holiday also, because the celebration of the harvest had caused the villagers to drink copiously of the good wine and many to quaff in excess, so that they slept like the dead till nearly noon. Besides, there was, I am quite sure, a veritable orgy of fornication in every cottage, and this physical excess coupled with over-indulgence in wine brings a delicious torpor even to the youngest and most vigorous. At any rate, Pere Mourier, after having his breakfast, left the rectory about noon to pay another call on Monsieur Claude Villiers for the purpose of making certain that the banns between that estimable patron and the virgin Laurette would officially be read the following Sunday. Also, as he informed Desiree, he wished to visit Laurette and her parents after having seen the patron so that there would be clarification on the part of all concerned in this important ceremony. Father Lawrence, who woke a little before the obese French priest, shared breakfast with him, and apologetically requested that he, rather than Pere Mourier, be allowed to speak on his own behalf to Madame Hortense Bernard with the aim of securing board and shelter during his stay in Languecuisse.
“I would not wish to inflict myself sight unseen on the worthy widow, dear colleague,” he told the French priest. “You see, if you were to speak to her, she would naturally accept me in advance without ever having laid eyes on me, simply because you have her full confidence. And since I am here in Languecuisse as a vacationer, not in my official ecclesiastical capacity, I wish to be sure that she does not find me displeasing as a lodger.”
“Such delicacy and tact is admirable, my illustrious confrere,” Pere Mourier beamed. “Of a truth, I fear the visits to M'sieu Villiers and Laurette will consume much time, since they too require diplomacy and deference. And I know you are eager to settle down to your well-earned comforts, whereas here, alas, we are too small and crowded to tender you the hospitality you deserve. By all means, call upon the good Widow Bernard, and mention my name. It will suffice, I am certain.”
“Believe me, Pere Mourier, I have nothing but the highest praise for the gracious hospitality you have already accorded me here. Indeed, were I to leave your pleasant little hamlet this very day and never return, I should carry away with me the warmest memories of that hospitality.”
Father Lawrence glanced slyly up at the Amazonian housekeeper, who was in the act of pouring out another cup of coffee for her obese employer. Her face flamed, and she very nearly dropped the pewter pot, which was fortunate indeed for Pere Mourier, as the liquid was scalding hot, and had it splashed into his lap, might well have unmanned him had it burned his cock.
“Well, well, that is kindly said,” Pere Mourier beamed, “but I trust that since you will be quartered not far from my humble rectory, you will not be a stranger once you have established yourself in the abode of Madame Bernard. And now I must be off to spread the good word and to put Laurette, that mischievous little vixen, and our saintly upholder of Languecuisse, into a rapport that will lead them shortly to the altar.”
He left the room, and Desiree at once sidled up to Father Lawrence, her bold eyes warm with remembered felicity from their night together: “Your Reverence will leave me desolate,” she murmured seductively. “How shall I endure your absence for an entire month, knowing all the while that you are exposed to the temptation of that impudent trollop Hortense Bernard?”
“But, my daughter,” he cried, feigning alarm at this piece of news, “do you imply that I am to be lodged with a sinful woman?”
“Just so, Your Reverence. It is well known that her husband took to drink as a result of her infidelities and also because he could not keep up with servicing her insatiable and lewd demands. Yes, it is true! On the night that he was so unfortunately drowned in the wine vat, he had been turned out of his own cottage by that shameless hussy so that she might entertain a handsome tinker who was passing through Languecuisse that day. He had gone thence to console his sorrows in the arms of Jacqueline Aleroute, the plump wanton who is wife to the old baker Henri. And he was just easing himself into her welcoming arms when, as luck would have it, Henri took a notion to come home earlier than was his wont, for his custom is to stop at the tavern after he has baked his bread for the next day and to finish a bottle of Chablis. Surprised in the very act of cuckolding the old baker, poor Gervaise—that was the name of Hortense's husband, Your Reverence—clambered out of the window. But as his trousers were dangling about his legs, he stumbled and fell into the wine vat.”
“Your story is a tragic one, my daughter. But perhaps my presence in the abode of Madame Bernard will serve as an ameliorative influence. Through my counsel and guidance, she may be able to wrest the demon of carnal temptation from her spirit.”
“Perhaps, Your Reverence.” Desiree shook her handsome head. “But I fear she will seek to lure you to her shameless bed. The mere sight of a man in the same room with her sets her lusts aflame. And worst of all—oh, but I blush to relate it before Your Reverence!”
“Speak freely and frankly, my daughter, for there is no mortal sin with which I am not familiar. The more one knows of the devil's subtle ways of corruption, the better one is armed against them.”
“Yes, that is true, Your Reverence. Well—oh, but truly, it is so shameful that I blush out of outraged modesty even to hint of it!”
He fitted his arm round her little waist and gazed up at her with a benevolent smile as he gently responded, “I pardon you in advance, and compliment you on your modesty, my daughter. Now tell me honestly what penchant of Madame Bernard's so horrifies you.”
Desiree shivered as his arm tightened round her waist. Quickly, she bent to his ear and whispered, her opulent bosom rising and falling quickly in her emotions.
“You are certain that she prefers to be buggered, my daughter?”
“Shh, Your Reverence, you must not say such wicked words!” gasped the Amazonian housekeeper, her face
