“Has he pinched you? If he has, I'll strangle him, I swear to you, Laurette.”
“Sh-h-h! We must not be overheard. We have so little time. If we loiter, he will send again to my parents at their house to see what is keeping me, and our secret will be discovered. Oh, Pierre, whatever shall I do?”
“If I had many francs, I would wed you myself and take you far from this wretched little hamlet,” the youth stoutly declared. “But you know that I have nothing except the charity which the patron gives me. And I know also that I am his bastard son, though he will not recognize me. It is not right that he should wed you, Laurette, when we have pledged ourselves to each other ever since we were both thirteen.”
“I know,” she nodded sadly. “We always hoped and prayed that some miracle would happen so that we could be wed. And we have not even had joy of each other. And now tonight, I am very much afraid he will demand his rights in advance before I am his wife. I loathe him. To think of his fingers pinching my naked flesh puts me in a fit of horror. Oh, if I am doomed to surrender to him, will you not, for the last time that we shall be able to meet before my marriage, teach me what love truly is, dear Pierre?”
“Do you really mean it, Laurette?” the youth gasped. Laurette nodded, then buried her blushing face against his chest. He uttered a cry of exultation. “Oh darling, my darling one! Then come with me. There is a little knoll by a tree just off old Larochier's plot, and there we shall hide and I will teach you all I know of love, my beautiful Laurette!”
The knoll was indeed an ideal hiding place, in a little declension of the ground and comfortably guarded by a thick, towering oak tree whose branches were leafy and obscured the starlit sky as if compassionately wishing to grant these two young lovers their little time for solace and privacy. Pierre Larrieu tossed down his hat, and then removed his coat and laid it on the thick greensward, a gesture as courtly as that of any knightly cavalier. “Do you lie down there, Laurette, you will not stain your pretty gown from the grass,” he urged. The sweet girl blushingly obeyed, turning her face to one side and hiding it in those soft little hands. He knelt down, his face taut with youthful excitement and passion as he gazed upon his lovely, virginal sweetheart. As she had settled herself, the hem of her gown lofted to a pair of the most bewitchingly dimpled milky knees I have ever beheld. He bent down towards her, his fingers took hold of her deliciously rounded naked calves and fondled them, while his lips pressed a long and burning kiss on one of those adorable dimples. Laurette uttered a little cry of feigned apprehension in which, however, could be heard the full overtones of an exquisite eagerness for carnal knowledge: “Oh Pierre, what are you doing?”
“You said I might teach you love, my darling. If we have only this hour for the rest of all eternity, let me do as I wish for the first and last time.” She could not gainsay so eloquent an argument. So shyly, still hiding her face in those soft hands, she murmured tenderly, “I can deny you nothing this night. When I think that in a little time I shall be alone with that detestable old man who wishes to pinch my bottom and my breasts and every other part of me, I shall pretend that it might be you there instead of him, dear loyal loving Pierre!”
I could see already that there was a suspicious bulge at the top of his patched, tattered trousers. It was understandable after so exciting a declaration from those virgin lips. Perhaps Pierre, who was accused of writing sonnets instead of doing his arduous chores, had unexpected inventiveness as a lover, but he was also conscious that there was very little time. Moreover, I have no doubt, had he revealed all his lore of young love, he might have given Laurette the impression that he was a profligate instead of her devoted swain. Whatever the reason, he took hold of the hem of her gown and lofted it to the waist, revealing a single lawn petticoat, which undoubtedly had also been provided by her mother, since the material was yellowed by age. Laurette uttered another little sigh, but did not move, having given him carte blanche to proceed. This he did without further delay. Up went the petticoat to join the rolled-up gown, and now the occasional ray of moonlight which filtered through the leafy branches of the great protective oak tree dappled the milky flesh of beautiful young Laurette, naked from her ankles to the hem of her tight drawers. He put his hands on her thighs and stroked them lovingly, until her muscles twitched and her bosom began to rise and fall in flurried response. “Oh, my darling, what are you going to do to me?” she whispered tremulously.
“I want to fuck you, Laurette. I want to put my cock into your sweet little virgin cunt. Please let me do it. There will never be another time for us—you know that. From now on, you will have to endure the patron's cock, and you will mourn your Pierre because he is not there to comfort you and give you what your sweet cunt should have,” he boldly told her.
“I am a virgin, as you know, dear Pierre,” she murmured, still averting her face and shielding it with her hand, “but I have heard papa and maman talking when they thought I was asleep, and I know that fucking makes babies. The patron would not want to marry me if you gave me a baby, Pierre.”
“Little innocent, if he is going to wed you within a fortnight, he can never know whose baby it is you carry in your belly,” Pierre laughed. Already his fingers had begun to stray under the hem of Laurette's drawers, tickling her groin and the satiny soft flesh of her inner thighs, drawing little squeals and wriggling paroxysms from the delicious girl.
“That is true,” she at last admitted as her head turned to the other side, although she still hid her face from him.
“Then let me take down your drawers and fuck you, Laurette. Look what I have for you, my darling,” he panted as he opened his trousers and liberated his sturdy young cock. He had been circumcised, and the deep groove set off his vigorous young thick-veined shaft from the large, oblong tip of his weapon. Laurette at last dared to take her hands away and to plant her palms at either side of her body as she stared at this phenomenon. Her eyes grew very large and her lips made a little 0 of perturbation.
“Mon dieu, my darling Pierre, I did not dream a man could be so big as that down there! And where are you going to put that monstrous object? Surely it will never go into my little slit.”
“Let us find out whether it will or not, my dearest one,” he urged hoarsely.
“Oh, I am so afraid—wait, wait, don't take my drawers off yet,” Laurette gasped as his fingers had already begun to insert themselves under the hem. “What if the patron finds that I have lost my maidenhead? I will be spoiled for him and he will cast me aside. Then my father will thrash me with the strap and disown me. Would you want that to happen to your poor Laurette?”
“I tell you that the patron will not be able to perform his marital duties, so old and dried-up is his cock. Two weeks ago, when he did not know I was watching, I peeked between the shutters in his bedroom and I saw him bedded with Desiree, the widow who is to be the new housekeeper for good Pere Mourier. They were both naked, and he was kneeling over her and she had both hands plying his dwindled cock to rouse him to fuck her. I swear to you that it was useless until she finally took it in her mouth. Even then he could not keep it hard long enough to get it between her legs, but dribbled off his seed into her mouth.”
“Pierre Larrieu! You are wicked and sinful to tell me, a maiden, such wicked and lascivious things!” she gasped. But then, in the manner of all maidens who are curious about the particular and peculiar phenomenon of fucking, she breathed, “Do you mean that Desiree actually put her lips over the patron's th-thing?”
“I swear it on my hope of salvation, my dearest Laurette. And that is why I swear your maidenhead is in no danger. He can never learn whether it is there or not, because he will not be able to enter your sweet little cunt, unless he does so with his fingers. Oh, Laurette, I am bursting for you! Please let me fuck you! Besides, we are wasting too much time talking and the patron will be looking for you.”