"The Nunnery Tales" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anonymous)

Chapter Seven

At this period of Emilie's story, I noticed a good deal of agitation among the young ladies of her audience.

For instance, Adele was kneeling with her head between the Abbess' thighs; what she was doing I could not exactly see. Emilie herself was sitting with her legs open, perfectly unconcerned, while Louise was fumbling about her secret parts.

My aunt very sensibly remarked, “I think, Emilie, my love, you had better stop a little, for I perceive that narration of your delightful adventures with the handsome young page and the consequent loss of your maidenhead has produced the usual effect upon the minds and bodies of the young ladies present.”

I do not know what effect it was producing upon the minds of the young ladies, but I do know what effect it was producing upon the prick of a certain young gentleman. In spite of all my previous exertions, my cock began to erect his ruby head as if to look about him for some new victim. That, as the reader will recollect, I could not find very easily, as I had fucked the Lady Abbess and every girl in the room excepting Adele; but as Agnes was sitting upon my knee, I had not far to search for the requisite accommodation. Ah, when a man has youth and health on his side, what a choice of delights he has! How easily his course is made clear for him! And how frequently he can repeat his enjoyments, and with what impunity! But enough moralizing. As I began to make known my lustful intentions, to shift the position of Agnes' naked rump upon my knees, she blushingly whispered in my ears, “Dearest Auguste, I am so sore. I fear that I cannot bear your loving embraces any more today.” To which I replied that I would rather fuck her than anybody else, but that my animal passions had got to such a pitch that I must really quench the heat and fever of my monster of a cock in some girl's warm pussy. I told her also that I had fucked every girl there except Adele, and she, I had reason to think, was kept by my aunt for her own unnatural purpose. This Agnes declared to be nonsense.

In the meantime, my aunt, who had been whispering to Adele, called to us and demanded to know what we two young folks were talking about.

“Indeed,” she said, “Auguste, we are all rather jealous of Agnes. You have been monopolizing her for the last half hour. She has been sitting, as I can see, with her bare bottom on your bare lap, and St. Claire only knows what you may have been doing to her before all our faces.” She said all this very good humoredly, but with a little evident spice of jealously.

I replied that neither she or any of the charming girls around us need be in the least degree jealous, for however good my will might be, my sweet friend (upon which Agnes kissed me) felt very sore, and I had too much consideration for any charming girl to force my throbbing weapon into her tender cunt hole when she was sore and bleeding.

I'm afraid, of course, that this was not exactly true and that if there had been no other girl or woman in the room but Agnes, she would have had to suffer either in front or behind, sore or not sore.

As it was, my considerate speech was very well received. Adele especially was very loud in her commendations and thought I was quite right; no young girl ought to be fucked more than once, at least not on the first day at any rate.

The sly girl knew that I had passed the night with the Lady Superior, that I had fucked Emilie in the morning and subsequently had taken the maidenheads of Louise and Agnes.

So not unnaturally, she thought and hoped that perhaps her turn was coming. And I have no doubt but that she expressed herself to this effect in the whispered exchange which I have alluded to as taking place between her and my aunt.

My aunt raised herself from the sofa, saying, “My love, do not distress yourself, you shall have it! I want you to dildo me, for you have had some little experience, more than any of the other young ladies. And dear Auguste shall fuck you at the same time. I know how to arrange it so that his drilling into you while you have the instrument in me will give you additional impetus so that I shall have the benefit of your enjoyment at second hand.”

“Oh, that will be delightful,” exclaimed Adele, running to fetch the necessary instrument.

Meanwhile, my aunt proceeded deliberately to strip off her robe and petticoats, leaving herself in her shift and stockings.

Then she coolly proceeded to examine her luscious, moss-bedewed cunt, pulling the lips slightly asunder and inserting her finger. She worked it in and out, thrusting it inside to the knuckle, then withdrawing it until she merely tickled the nub of flesh that bulged at the threshold of her slit. I hope she found everything satisfactory. Of one thing I am quite certain, namely that I had not hurt her, whatever I had done to the rest of the young ladies. As for me, I was preparing for action by taking off my silk frock and the skirts and flounces which I knew would be in the way of my intended operations. In this, Agnes kindly assisted my awkwardness so that when Adele returned to the room stark naked with the dildo strapped around her waist, my aunt was ready to receive her and I to fuck her.

“Ah, you did right to strip yourself,” murmured my aunt. “Your stockings contrast very well with her creamy skin, don't they Auguste? And I hope you have got the dildo strapped so as not to interfere with his getting into you from behind. Stoop down with your thighs a little open so that the handsome imposter there can see for himself if he considers the passage clear. In the meantime, I will get myself into the most suitable position – you'll take care of me, and my nephew with the long legs and standing prick, will take good care of you, I'm sure.” Taking this hint, I knelt down, pulling open her buttocks to get a clear view of my path to her tight little crevice.

The dildo was strapped well on her belly, the road to her cunt was free, and I reached under and pulled the lips open. They were smooth and moist; the inner folds had the hue of conch, all pink and shiny. My aunt, in the meantime, had, with the assistance of Emilie, laid herself down on the table so that her rump touched the edge. When Adele approached her, she threw her legs over the young girl's shoulders, and Adele immediately thrust her hips forward and shoved the ivory velvet-headed tube into its destined receptacle. I, on my part, first slightly lubricated with my tongue the sanctuary I was going to violate, licking all around and within the smiling lips and then introduced my fiery cock-head. I found that the position Adele was occupying relative to my aunt was an admirable one for my penetrating the very innermost parts of the fine fat-rumped novice.

Moreover, if I had desired additional pleasure, I had further gratification in admiring my aunt's finely curved legs and ripe bosom, to say nothing of the sensual gratification expressed on her face as Adele began to warm into her work, assisted no doubt by the vigorous shoves and plunges with which I was penetrating her person. I should mention here that when I made my third drive into her widely stretched pussy, which was a vigorous one, she gave a slight scream; the only sympathy which that elicited from the others was, “Open your thighs wide, my sweet friend!” from my aunt, “Don't mind her screaming, Auguste! She has got no maidenhead. I took that. Fuck her hard; the road's clear enough!” So I began to ram her brutally while reaching around and crushing her swaying tits with my grasping hands.

Just as Lady Agatha had got worked up to her utmost ecstasy and required the two or three last heavy thrusts and the injection of the warm cream from the dildo, Mademoiselle Adele found herself in exactly the same predicament! This I perceived by her beginning to catch her breath, to wriggle her bottom about violently, to call upon my name with every term of endearment, and to seem to be entirely forgetful of her Superior's open cunt before her. All this was because she felt the rapturous effects of my glorious prick behind her, pounding into her love cave with dogged regularity. All this time my aunt was exclaiming, “Push harder, Adele, harder, you silly girl, and give me milk.” But it was too late. I felt Adele losing her rhythm almost helplessly, and it was well for her that I, though on the very verge of spurting into her, still retained my presence of mind.

Already I felt her warm lovestream spouting forth and deluging my cock up to the very roots, literally saturating the hair. I saw there was no time to be lost. I caught her firmly in my arms and gave two or three tremendous shoves so as to force the dildo into my aunt's belly as far as it would go. Then, applying my hands to the elastic balls of the instrument, I effected the required ejection to my aunt's great delight. She murmured, “That's very nice. I feared I was going to miss it!” and sank down upon her pillow in a dreamy state of enjoyment.

As for me, I held my fair friend firmly in my arms, and in one second, I felt my cock expand to bursting and supplied her with such a liberal allowance of what I may call “essential oil” that it actually overflowed her generous cunt and trickled down her white thighs, showing very conspicuously against her scarlet stockings, to the intense delight of the three girls, Emilie, Agnes, and Louise, who had been by no means unconcerned or even idle spectators of this little drama.

At the very start of the proceedings, I had heard Emilie say to Louise, “Go, dear and fetch me a candle, a good large one. Never mind whether it is lighted at a shrine or not, bring it here.” And away ran Louise.

On her return, she found Emilie upon the sofa lately occupied by my aunt, her petticoats drawn up, one long leg stuck over the back of the sofa while the foot of the other rested upon the floor. Of course the exposure of the person was as complete as anyone could desire. Her pink little pussy slit below the generously thatched mount was full open to my hungry gaze and so occupied any glances that I could spare from my immediate business.

On Louise's making her appearance with the candle, a huge one, Emilie told her to insert it in her gaping orifice, a hint which Louise, perhaps inspired by the scene she saw enacted on the table, or a grateful remembrance of my services to her, was not slow to take. She shoved the candle well into Emilie, at least as far as she considered safe. Then she commenced to work it with the judgment of an expert practitioner. And what was poor Agnes doing all this time?”

I rather think that very charming and virtuous young lady was regretting that she had ever pleaded soreness as an excuse for not being fucked. The devotion she was exhibiting toward my person led me to suppose that she would not have been very sorry to have been in Adele's place, sore cunt and all.

For she knelt down, and not only kissed my naked thrusting buttocks repeatedly, but extended her attentions to my cock. She kissed and licked it in such a way as would have raised an erection in the most useless man that ever lived. She slid her tongue along the shaft and balls and even swallowed the head upon its withdrawal from Adele's greedy cunt. Once I'd reinserted it, Agnes returned to whatever of the shaft was exposed to her swirling tongue. Of course, Adele had the benefit of the proceedings, though at the conclusion of the act, Agnes enjoyed a slight sprinkling of warm cream upon her pretty face.

At any rate, she was the only person among us with any presence of mind or energy to do anything. I sank down in an easy chair, Lady Agatha remained on the table, Adele lay down on an ottoman and Emilie and Louise lay together on the sofa with their arms around each other and their lips pressed together. The candle still protruded from between Emilie's thighs while the melting wax mingled with her own juices. It was an interesting group certainly; a painter or sculptor might have searched the world over for an exhibition of more splendid limbs, or more graceful shapes. A libertine would have been driven frantic at the display of white rumps, mossy cunts, fat thighs, plump bosoms and blushing nipples, all displayed without pretence of concealment.

The effect of this display was heightened by the air of voluptuous languor and total abandonment exhibited by all of us. The only exception was Agnes. She evidently thought that something should be done to preserve a semblance of decency. She first of all turned her attention to me, and I gratefully acknowledged her kindness in wiping my prick carefully and gently with her handkerchief. Then she slipped my frock over my head and fastened it loosely. So I was pretty comfortable, especially after I had gone to the buffet and helped myself to a tumbler of champagne.

Agnes pulled Louise off of Emilie and requested her to put a wrapper or loose frock of some kind upon Adele, at the same time removing the candle and drawing down Emilie's petticoats, so that she was pretty decent. Then she turned her attention towards her Lady Superior, who being pretty well accustomed to such attacks, was not in a very deplorable state of dress. But she gratefully acknowledged Agnes' kindness in drying her cunt and bringing her a glass of wine. My aunt proceeded with her help to robe herself and managed, to my surprise and admiration, to appear in a few minutes as if nothing had happened.

When order had been thus partially restored, the Lady Superior remarked, “I hope, Emilie, you do not feel too fatigued to continue your story. Ah, you naughty girl,” she continued half laughing, “the candle again. I suppose you'll frig yourself to death if you don't take care.”

“I beg your pardon Madame,” replied Emilie in a languid tone. “On this occasion, Louise did my business for me, and very nicely she did it too. When she has a little recovered from her violation, I'll do as much for her.”

“All very fine,” responded Lady Agatha, “but in the meantime, as Louise got the candle, which I see is one of the largest and best in the nunnery – and it is a mercy it was not broken by your wrigglings and heavings – she had better go and put it where she took it from, and light it again, and you can go on with your story.”

But just as Emilie was about to recommence, the door opened and there entered Father Eustace and Madame d'Ermonville, or rather I may as well say my father and mother.

Thanks to Agnes' presence of mind, the room and its occupants were better fitted to receive visitors than they had been ten minutes before, but still there was a certain air of disarrangement about the room and furniture. Most decidedly there was something disheveled in the appearance of the young ladies. Their dresses, though somewhat arranged, were hardly tidy. Agnes and Louise had flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes for their desire had not been gratified, while Adele and Emilie were pale and their eyes heavy. An air of unmistakable sensuality pervaded all four of them. As for me, I tried to look as unconcerned as possible, sitting with one arm around Agnes' waist, with her head resting on my shoulder. I suppose we presented a picture of two affectionate young ladies.

Father Eustace seemed determined to carry out the farce and approached me, laying his hand upon my head. “I rejoice, my daughter, that you have made choice of one so holy and virtuous as Sister Agnes for your companion! May your friendship be a close and a lasting one.”

I assured him most conscientiously that I intended it should indeed be a close and intimate one, giving Agnes a squeeze around the waist that she understood very well.

Meantime, Madame d'Ermonville, after saluting her sister, remarked that she had been taking a walk around the garden with Father Eustace and was beginning to feel hungry and tired, so they had come into lunch. “But I see,” said she, “that we are too late as the lunch has been removed from the table to the sideboard.”

The Abbess was going to remark that the lunch had never been on the table when she fortunately checked herself on my mother's remarking, “But you should take care, Agatha, not to let careless people spill melted butter on your handsome table cover. Look here!” And she pointed to the very spot on the edge of the table where her sister's rump had rested, and which had been plentifully bedewed, and which had been neglected in the general robbing and cleaning up. My aunt took the allusion very coolly; saying that it was careless, but that she thought it was milk. She requested Adele to wipe it up and invited her sister and Father Eustace to take some refreshment. This they gladly accepted, the Holy Father in particular eating and drinking as if he meant to restore his wasted energies.

As they were eating, Madame asked her sister how they had been amusing themselves, and how I had behaved myself. To this, the Lady Superior replied that I had conducted myself admirably, (she laid great stress on this word) and had inspired her and all the young ladies with the highest opinion of me. As for their amusements, Emilie had been telling them a short story, relating some adventures of hers, which though doubtless of the world and worldly, and even rather licentious, had doubtless a good moral, as they had spurred her to seek the shadow of the cloister.

This story she proposed to continue as soon as their honored guests had concluded their lunch. On Emilie's expressing her opinion that such a foolish little narrative was hardly fit to entertain such guests as Madame d'Ermonville and Father Eustace, the latter promptly replied that he liked to hear all sorts of stories good or bad, pure or impure. In fact, he rather preferred the latter, as it gave him the opportunity of imposing a suitable penance if he deemed it necessary. Here he glanced at Emilie, who laughed and blushed. “For you must understand, fair daughter,” said the handsome monk turning to me, “that we of the priesthood can do – without sin – whatever we like, provided that our intentions are good.”

To this I replied that I had no doubt of it. My mother, turning to my aunt, said, laughing, “I wonder if his intentions were good in the garden just now?”

“Tell us all about it, Henriette,” said Lady Agatha.

“Well, I am almost ashamed,” said Madame, “but it was thus: I was taking a solitary walk in the garden this morning when I was joined by his Reverence, who after a few commonplace remarks proposed to me that as I had not confessed to him lately, the arbor on the south side of the garden would make a very suitable confessional. I partly guessed what this meant, and, as I expected, very soon found that the first duty of the Confessor appeared to be to shove his hand up the penitent's underclothing, and that of the penitent to stretch her legs open. As I am talking to experienced young ladies, I need not hesitate to say that I received absolution while lying on my back with my thighs wide open, in the shape of a most vigorous fucking, and was favored moreover with a most copious administration of what I suppose was holy oil. Indeed, my belly was half full before I sat down to lunch. Well I did not much mind that, indeed I rather liked it.”

“Indeed you did,” interrupted Father Eustace emphatically.

“But as we were subsequently strolling about the garden picking and eating some of the choice fruits, we met a nun, evidently a handsome woman, but pale faced, whom my companion accosted as Sister Helen, asking her if she had gotten quite well since her confinement…”

“No doubt it was Helen,” replied my aunt, “She got in the family way by some means or other; nobody but herself knows or cares. The child was stillborn and she quickly got well, and I suppose is ready to be fucked again.”

“Really!” exclaimed my mother, “listen to me! After a little agreeable conversation, which I joined for I found sister Helen was a most ladylike person, dear Eustace asked her if she had been purified since her confinement. In some surprise, she answered 'no' whereupon he said that it was absolutely necessary that she should undergo that rite immediately, as she was not fit for Christian society in her present state. On this, she looked at me with great alarm as if she had been polluting me with her company, and she forthwith consented.

“We were then near the willow tree which stands on the lawn surrounded by laurels. Father Eustace requested his victim to walk with him under the branches of the tree. I followed to see what would happen; we were partially, but only partially shrouded by its branches.

“Then he desired her to stand with her back against the stem of the tree, and told her to take her petticoats and chemise up to her waist, which she did without speaking. Then his Reverence knelt down and, forcing her thighs apart, commenced to lick her muff with his darting tongue. The curly hair was thin upon her mount, and he wetted it thoroughly until it was plastered to her quivering cunt. Then he proceeded to insert his finger into her pussy and pronounce what he called a blessing and absolution. All I could hear of it was a muttering of 'very tight indeed, quite a maidenhead, four months since she was fucked,' and blessings of that sort. With each word, he thrust his finger violently into her envelope, rotating it so that it shone wet and slippery when he withdrew it.

“However, proceedings very soon came to an end, for I suppose that Father could not endure his lascivious sensations any longer. Indeed, I saw his monstrous prick – you know what a huge tool he carries, don't you Mademoiselle Emilie? – almost bursting through his robe. It appeared that to complete the act of the so-called purification, Sister Helen was to be fucked standing upright with her back against a tree. Pretty purification, thought I, and what's more the gentleman had given me such unmistakable evidence of his power not twenty minutes before, that I should not have supposed him capable of doing another fine woman justice in such a short space of time.

“But obviously there is nothing like change and variety. I am plump and fair-haired, indeed the hair on my cunt is reddish. Now Sister Helen is slender and dark, and the hair of her cunt is black. Moreover, as to minor differences, I always wear white silk hosiery whereas the handsome nun wears black silk. This is very becoming, as I dare say. Mademoiselle Agnes seems very fond of me as my daughter right well knows, and a very nice display she makes.” This remark was occasioned by Agnes, having in the fullness of her love passion forgotten herself a little and crossed her left leg over my right, thus bringing herself a little upon my knee and making a display of her elegant long leg. Agnes blushed, the rest laughed, and my mother went on. “But be that as it may, Father Eustace was quite ready to do full justice to his fresh paramour. Certainly as soon as he could get fairly into her, which he seemed to have a little difficulty at first in accomplishing, though her cunt is not nearly tight and virginal. Finally, he gave one upward shove that fairly lifted her off of her legs. I must say that she seemed to reciprocate his ardor, but her position was not the best calculated for displaying her responsive thrusts. Nevertheless, she did her best and just as he was getting into the last few powerful digs, she lifted up her left leg for him to catch hold of, which he did, thus affording me a fair display. Not only me, as it turned out, but also one of the gardeners who happened to be passing, and who merely giving a glance at the interesting performance said, 'Your blessing, pray Holy Father.'

“'Benedicite, my son,' replied Father Eustace, drawing out about three inches of his tool as he spoke, and then drove into her and finished her with a deep thrust. And finished himself too, I should think, for he seemed tolerably subdued as he kissed Helen and gave her his blessing. How long he'll remain in his present quiet condition I can't pretend to guess… not long, I'm afraid, if he has any pretty girls to confess especially after such a good lunch and lots of champagne. And now, young ladies, perhaps Mademoiselle Emilie will excuse this interruption, and go on with her story, unless you feel too tired, for I am far too experienced a lady to suppose that any of you have passed the morning in mere conversation. I strongly suspect that there has been a little fucking going on.”

“Why, my dear Mademoiselle d'Ermonville,” exclaimed Emilie, who was the most forward and experienced of the girls, “who is here to fuck any of us?”

“Ah, you know very well, you saucy girl,” replied my mother nodding her head and laughing. “Besides, you, if all accounts are true, can manage on occasion without a man's cock – a good sized candle, or even the fingers of one of your pretty companions will give you satisfaction when nothing better is to be had.”

This was hitting the right nail on the head and we all laughed so that Emilie vowed vengeance against us and declared that she would tell Madame and Father Eustace all that we had been doing just before they had entered the room.

“Tell away, my child and welcome,” said my aunt, who did not care one farthing who knew, or who saw, for that matter.

Emilie then, without hesitation, proceeded to describe the whole scene that had passed, lingering chiefly on her Lady Superior, Adele, and me, but not omitting herself, and slightly exaggerating the parts played by Agnes and Louise.

“Ah! how I wish I had been present!” exclaimed Madame d'Ermonville. “It seems to me that the most interesting part of the performance was that between Adele and Auguste here.”

“My son,” said Father Eustace very gravely, “what sort of a rump has that fine girl got?”

I, of course, was lavish in my praise, whereupon he whispered to me, “I suppose you have made Agnes sore; 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