if so, recollect that she has two holes, and if you feel disposed to follow my example with regard to Adele, Agnes will be only too glad to let you do anything.”
I did not quite understand him, but held myself in readiness, for I certainly began to feel rather prick- stiffereous.
“Come hither, fair daughter,” said Father Eustace to Adele, “and exhibit your posteriors to me; you have never suffered penance from me, I think.”
“Never, your Reverence,” said Adele, trembling.
“Don't be frightened,” said the monk, but bend your head down, and open your buttocks. Have you any pomade, or Florence oil, Sister Agatha?”
“There is plenty of Florence oil on the sideboard; hand it to the Father, Louise,” replied my aunt.
“You will never manage it, Eustace,” said my mother, who came forward to inspect the priest lubricating the novice's endhole with oil. “She is not very small, certainly, but you are so large.”
“I'll manage it, never fear,” he said. “Dearest Madame, take Agnes into your arms and hold her there while Auguste performs the same operation on her which I shall do upon Adele. He has taken her maidenhead, and she is sore.”
“Certainly,” replied my mother, very promptly. “Come to my arms, sweet friend,” she said as she seated herself on the sofa and drew Agnes over her.
“Oh, dear Madame,” she exclaimed, “I would do anything to please your handsome, dear son.”
“Bring the oil, my Auguste,” said my mother, “and oil your prick well, as well as her orifice, and I dare say you'll slip in easily enough.”
I lifted Agnes' clothes to her shoulders, and opening her white buttocks, inserted my fingers saturated with oil in the hole I was about to invade. It looked so small that I was at first afraid that I never should manage it; but with a little rubbing backwards and forwards, and gently pulling open, I saw the thing was quite feasible. I was proceeding to oil my standing prick when a loud exclamation of “Oh!” made me turn around, and I found that what my mother had said was pretty correct – Father Eustace was too large for his intended victim. He could not force his cock-head into Adele's arsehole. “Lay your head on the sofa cushion, dear Agnes” said Madame. “I will prevent that girl being hurt, at any sacrifice. So saying, she rose and said, “Dear Eustace, you really must not; you must not indeed. I would rather you did anything than that.”
“Anything, Henriette?” asked the Father meaningfully.
“Yes, anything,” she replied, blushing, “though I had rather it not be before these girls.”
“Well, I can't wait,” replied Eustace, “and you are large enough, that's one comfort.”
So saying, he dragged up Madame d'Ermonville's robes in the rudest manner, forced her head down upon the sofa cushions where I had already placed Agnes, and shoved his huge cock without preamble into her small rumphole, or at least it seemed small in comparison with the huge white buttock mounds between which it lay. I followed his lead and pushed the head of my cock inside the starfish-shaped aperture. I experienced great tightness, but also great elasticity, and no difficulty. I could feel every inch of my shaft travel up her anal canal. I am sure that Agnes felt no pain, and if she did not feel pleasure, she pretended to do so. My enjoyment was very great indeed, quite ecstatic, and I presume Father Eustace felt equal delight. We thrust in and out with force and speed, our hands on the ample hips of our partners, 'til both of us deluged our fair partners simultaneously with our warm fluid, and withdrew with a noise like the pulling a couple of corks.
Then kissing warmly the rounded snowy mountains we had just been pressing, we arranged our partner's attire, Father Eustace remarking that now Emilie was at liberty to continue her story.
Anonymous
The Nunnery Tales
Chapter Eight
“Well, Holy Father,” said Emilie, addressing the monk, “I am perfectly ready to proceed, that is if you are quite sure that you are done with Madame d'Ermonville and the other ladies. One thing I must say, that the company need not expect to hear anything from me so lascivious as what they have just seen in the performance of you and Monsieur Augustine and your lovely victims, for so I must take the liberty of calling them, considering that their persons have been outrageously violated.”
“Don't trouble yourself about us, Mademoiselle Emilie,” exclaimed my mother, “Agnes and I are none the worse for what we have undergone. Remember that a rumphole will recover its tightness and elasticity, whereas a maidenhead once burst through is lost forever. And now, please continue your narrative, which I have no doubt will prove exciting enough.”
“I think,” said Emilie, “I left off where I expected the arrival of my mother. I parted with my seducer and promised him admittance to my bedchamber that night or any night that he pleased. I permitted my maid to arrange my hair and partially to undress me, then I dismissed her, informing her that I proposed to stay up and read for a short time. She obeyed, glad enough to go to bed; and then by way of reading I took from my pocket the small book which Victor had given me, and which I eagerly consulted. Most of the prints I had seen before he violated me, when I was confused and eager. Now I looked at them leisurely, and deliberately; and certainly I must say that every posture which the wantonness of woman or the lust of man could possibly suggest was there delineated.
“Looking at these beautiful pictures naturally suggested to my mind what position my handsome young page would choose to place me in when he came to pay me a visit. This question suggested the idea of whether I was fit to receive him. Willing, I most undoubtedly was, for I began, notwithstanding the ruthless bursting of my maidenhead, to feel very excited. But the worst of it was that my cunt, like those of our pretty young friends Louise and Agnes, was most undoubtedly sore. I knew now what to do; for I felt sure that if my gallant young page could manage by any means to invade my sleeping chamber, he would have no mercy upon me. I recalled that I had some lip salve; this I copiously applied to very different lips than those for which it was intended. Then wrapping myself up in my quilted dressing gown, I determined to wait one hour and no longer.
“Before the expiration of that time the house was perfectly quiet, and I had hardly ascertained that fact to my satisfaction when the room door was opened and Victor entered. His face was a little flushed, but he looked as handsome as ever. I fancied he might have been drinking some wine, but I was mistaken. He flung himself down on his knees before me, clasped me to his bosom and devoured my lips with passionate kisses. As he did so, he thrust his hand between my thighs and began to shove his forefinger up my orifice. This I begged him not to do, telling him that I was quite ready to yield my charms to him in any way he liked best, but that having his cock rammed into me would be severe enough without having my little treasure irritated by his finger. I then told him what I had done about the lip salve and he told me that I had acted very prudently, for he could hardly contain himself.
“'Indeed,' Victor said, laughing, 'your passions are very easily raised. Let us see.' So saying, I put my hand to the waistband of his velvet breeches and he, divining my intention, let slip the buttons. Down came the breeches, and lo, there stood his beautiful prick as stiff and eager as if he had not been between a girl's thighs for a month. The veins bulged out in high relief against the fair skin. The head was a dark plum on the end of the shaft. And at the base the luscious grape-like balls dangled below the thick matte of hair.
“He then explained to me that he had been in that heated state for the last ten minutes, and I told him that I supposed that he had been feeling the charms of some of the waiting maids on the stairs or in the corridor, and being interrupted by the approach of somebody had been obliged to run off with his lust unappeased. This I said in jest, for I could pretty well guess that when a page has raised his eyes to his mistress and been so successful at raising her petticoats, he will not chase at lower game, at least not for a while. Consequently, I was not much surprised by my young gentleman giving my suggestion a most emphatic denial; but I must confess, I was a little surprised to hear him declare that it was no other than Madame La Marquise herself, on her return from the masquerade, that had thus excited his sensual passions.
“'What!' exclaimed I, 'my mother?'
“'Even so, Mademoiselle,' replied Victor, in no way abashed. 'You know the splendid costume in which she was attired, that of a page of the reign of Henry IV. Well, that costume is all very well as long as the cloak and doublet
