But it was her figure which demanded the most attention. Even the wide skirt which she wore could not disguise the truly juicy curves of full, appetizing haunches, of robust and sturdy thighs well able to bear many a vigorous charge from the spunk-laden weapon of a lusting male. The fine plump, well turned calves were bare, and their skin was of a fine carnation tinting calculated to whet the sexual appetites of even such a discriminating philosopher of womankind's foibles as Father Lawrence had already proved to be. As to her bosom, the low-cut blouse accentuated its sumptuous treasures: two narrowly set, high-perched round melons, which, if one peeped down the cut of the blouse, displayed wide, pale coral circles amid which rose darling orangeish pink-hued tidbits that fairly made Father Lawrence's mouth water, if I am any judge of the look in a man's eyes when he gazes upon a female.
I rested on his left shoulder, conserving my powers, for I too was on vacation. The warm sun, the langorous climate, had made me pleasantly drowsy ever since my arrival; as for subsistence, I had already dined enough soon after coming to Languecuisse to be able to quell the occasional bloodsucking urge which rose in me from time to time. What interested me most, dear reader, was the unfolding of this rather complex relationship between the fat French priest, the tender Laurette and her ill-starred lover Pierre, the Amazonian Desiree, and Father Lawrence. Somehow, I believed, that before the last-named's stay in this village should come to an end, there would be amusing and dramatic episodes to include in my memoirs and to recall in my old age. For even a Flea can gradually lose his powers, very much like a man, and thereby be relegated to re-contenting his primal urges with fond, burning reminiscences.
“Oh, Your Reverence, it would be a great honor for me to give you shelter in my humble cottage,” the Widow Bernard remarked, with a great fluttering of long thick curly eyelashes and a charming blush that would have done credit to a girl in her tenderest teens. “Since my poor husband died, I have had an empty room which unceasingly saddens my heart each time I pass it, for it was in that very chamber that my loving Gervaise and I came together in connubial joy, alas.” She sniffled fetchingly and modestly lowered her eyes. I could see that Father Lawrence was already smitten and well on his way to forgetting the clandestine delights which Desiree had procured for him in his quivering eagerness to have the Widow Bernard to himself.
“It is most generous of you, my daughter, and heaven will bless your thoughtfulness,” he told her with an unctuous smile. “Here are ten francs to pay for the first week of my lodging. I trust there will be sufficient left of that amount to purchase such little food as I may require.”
“Oh, Your Reverence, with so much money I can easily feed you on roast goose and tender duckling,” exclaimed the delighted widow. “Do honor me by entering my humble abode and letting me show Your Reverence to his room. No man has entered it since poor Gervaise left this world to find his eternal reward, which I steadfastly and daily pray he has attained by now.”
“Amen to that,” said Father Lawrence. “Do you go ahead of me, Madame Bernard, to show me the way.”
The buxom widow inclined her head deferentially and went forward whilst he followed her. His eyes fixed on the swing of her magnificent spacious hips, watching the undulations of her truly remarkable backside which her skirt plaqued against at each quick step she took. And remembering what Desiree had intimated to the virile English churchman about the Widow Bernard's predilection, I myself could attest to her being superbly endowed to service the unnatural lust of a man who would fain emulate the perverse sexual practice that was in Biblical times associated with the infamous city of Sodom.
She opened a narrow door and again inclined her head as he entered. The furnishings comprised a low bedstead, a chest of drawers, a footstool and a sturdy, short-backed chair, and there was a tiny window placed at about the height of a man's shoulders. Father Lawrence went to it and stared out, then turned back, a satisfied smile on his lips. “A really exquisite chamber, Madame Bernard. There is here all the privacy I could wish for. I am grateful to you.”
“But it is I who am beholden to you, Your Reverence. Ten francs—oh, it is a bounty from heaven itself!” she gushed, and, seizing his hand, bore it to her lips and kissed it.
Benignly, he patted her head with his other hand and responded, “You do me too much credit, my daughter. What is money but a medium of exchange, to be shared with those who are in need of it? And now, with your permission, I will enjoy a little nap, that I may regain my strength.”
“Certainly, Your Reverence, certainly,” the buxom widow cooed, her voice low and sweet and fawningly deferential as she backed out of the room, curtsying in obeisance, then closed the door behind her.
Father Lawrence unpacked his valise, which he had brought from Pere Mourier's rectory, and, examining the drawers, found room for his few articles of clothing. Then, removing cassock and his little cornered hat and placing them atop the chest, he stretched out on the bed clad only in his drawers. The weather was still extremely warm, and hence there was no need for undershirt. Yet no sooner had he closed his eyes and emitted a sigh of content than I perceived a gradual swelling at the crotch of his drawers, till before very long his virile cock was in gigantic erection. Perhaps he was dreaming of his tryst with Desiree, or perhaps of an imagined tryst with virginal Laurette, I cannot tell; but whatever the cause, his organ was readied to decimate a hundred maidenheads.
About ten minutes later, there was a discreet tap at the door, but Father Lawrence made no sign of having heard it; his breathing was regular, his eyes were closed, and his massive organ stood up like a totem pole. Presently, the door opened very slightly, and the Widow Bernard peeped inside; not hearing a sound from her new lodger, she opened it a little more and stepped inside the room. At once she beheld the mighty protuberance, and her brown eyes widened, whilst a delicious rosy color suffused her cheeks. She approached the bed oil tiptoe and bent down to stare at this symbol of virility, her lips forming an 0 of astonishment. At that very moment, Father Lawrence opened his eyes and regarded her.
“Is something amiss, Madame Bernard?” he asked.
Her blushes spread as she hastily turned her gaze from his loins to his chest, and she stammered, “Oh—n— no, Y—Your Reverence, I—I merely came in to ask whether you might not wish something to eat when you waken. Not knowing that you were to board with me, I have very little in my larder save for myself, so I shall have to go to market to prepare delicacies for your evening repast. And—and I wished to ask you what your preference was.”
“I shall eat whatever you eat, Madame Bernard. Do not go to any trouble on my account, I pray you.”
“As—as Y—Your Reverence wishes,” Madame Bernard stammered. But she made no attempt to withdraw, and once again, as if by hypnosis, her eyes were compelled to turn back to that upraised structure which prodded up the thin stuff of his drawers to bursting point.
He returned her gaze levelly as he lay, with head pillowed on his folded arms. “Did you wish to tell me anything else, Madame?” he politely inquired.
“N—no—Y—Your Reverence,” she quavered. Her fists were clenched at her sides, and her sumptuous bosom seemed to rise and fall with an erratic rhythm. The fiery hue of her blushes had spread to her throat and dainty little ears by now.
Wishing to draw her from this curious state of fixation which rendered her incapable of moving from the spot, Father Lawrence gave her a long meaningful look and then pursued, in a calm tone, “You stare at my cock, Madame Bernard, as if it were a unique phenomenon. I do not seek to offend your gentle modesty, but deem it necessary to explain that this condition is natural to me when I am completely at my ease and most often when I seek repose. I would not have you think that it is meant by way of assault upon your undisputed virtue.”
“Ohh, Y—Your Reverence—I—I did not th—think that at all,” the blushing widow gasped, “for certainly a man of Your Reverence's quality would never deign to take notice of so lowly a person as myself. But—but your c—cock is so s—swollen that I could not help looking at it.”
“You must not disparage yourself, my daughter,” was his mellow reply. “Your kindness in granting me shelter during my sojourn in Languecuisse at once elevates you above many in this charming village. Besides which, you are handsome and comely of face and body, and I marvel that no righteous man has not sought to replace your late husband.”
Hortense Bernard lowered her eyes and faintly retorted, “I—I have tried to find a man who would take the place of my poor Gervaise, but there are few who can compare with him, Your Reverence. Of—of course, he had his weaknesses too -”
“As do we all, my daughter.”
“Yes, Your Reverence. I was going to say, my poor Gervaise did not always come to bed with me as often as I would have wished, though he was very much a man like Your Reverence—I—I mean -”
