“Since my poor husband died,” she continued after Maxim de Berny had left, in the secure knowledge that the good priest would not be left untended, “I have had an empty room. It always saddens me each time I pass it, because it was in that very room that my dear Jean-Baptiste and I came together for the first time in wedded bliss. Alas!” She dried a tear and modestly blew her nose.
Father Lang was already smitten, especially since he had heard Maxim's entire story during the long ride in the cab. He quivered with eagerness to take possession of the bereaved widow Lemaitre. He knew, moreover, from Maxim that she had been a widow for quite some time and that she found solace with the boarders she took in on occasion.
“It is most generous of you, my daughter, and the Lord shall bless you for it,” Father Lang said to her with an unctuous smile. “Here are ten francs for the first week and I hope that there will be enough left to purchase such little food as I may require.”
“Oh, good Father, with so much money I can easily feed you on chicken and duckling every day,” exclaimed the happy widow. “Let me show Your Reverence to his room. No man has entered it since my poor Jean-Baptiste found his eternal reward.” And, realizing too late that she was talking to a priest she added hastily, “for which I daily pray, hoping that he has attained it by now.'”
The buxom widow went ahead of him, and his eyes fixed on the seductive swing of her magnificent broad hips, watching her truly remarkable backside which was encased in a skirt at least three sizes too tight for her. She was just the type he had hoped for.
Madame Lemaitre opened a narrow door, inclining her head as he entered. The furniture consisted of a low bed, a footstool, a chest of drawers and a short-backed chair. A little window stood at about shoulder height, and a motley bearskin-possibly thrown out by de Berny-was on the floor.
With a satisfied smile on his lips Father Lang said, “An excellent room, Madame. It has all the privacy one could wish for. I am truly grateful to you.”
“But I am grateful to you, Father. Ten francs. Oh! It's a bounty from heaven itself.” She grabbed his hand and kissed it fervently.
He patted her benignly on the head with his free hand, saying, “You do me too much credit, my daughter. Money is but the stuff to be shared with those who are in need of it. And now, with your permission, I would like to retire to regain my strength.”
“Certainly, your Reverence, certainly,” the buxom widow Lemaitre cooed, her voice low and seductive. She curtsied when she left the room, giving Father Lang a splendid look into her cleavage as well as a hot desire for her speedy return. Then she closed the door behind her.
The Father unpacked his valise, put his few articles of clothing in the drawers and then, removing his cassock and little cornered hat, he stretched out on the bed, clad only in a pair of short underpants.
He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of content. He began to think about the stories he had heard from the Counts de Paliseul and de Berny, regretting that he no longer had the age and vigor of both gentlemen. But, fortunately, there was the good widow Lemaitre and, unless his judgement was entirely wrong, he was sure that she longed to be possessed by him as much as he wanted to mount her. The mere thought of the endless possibilities awaiting him during his month's vacation made his crotch swell. It did not take very long before his virile cock was in a gigantic erection.
About fifteen minutes later there was a discreet tap on his door. In fact, it was so discreet that it could barely be heard. Father Lang therefore decided that it would be infinitely better to pretend having fallen asleep. His breathing was regular, his eyes were closed, and his massive organ stood up like a flagpole. The door opened very slowly till it was slightly ajar, and the head of the widow peeked around the corner. She did not hear a sound from her new lodger, other than his regular breathing and she opened the door a little wider, softly slipping through. She quietly tiptoed into the room.
At once she noticed the enormous erection of the priest. Her eyes widened and a deep flush covered her face. She came toward the bed silently and, bending down to stare at this mighty symbol of manhood her lips formed a silent O of utter amazement. Just at that moment, Father Lang opened his eyes. He stared at her, asking with a low voice, “Is anything the matter, Madame Lemaitre?”
She hastily turned her stare away from his prick and stammered. “Oh… no… your Reverence. I… I… only wanted to ask what you might want to have for breakfast. I did not know… that I was going to have a boarder and I do not have very much in the larder for myself. I… I… wanted to go early to the market… to… to… prepare a few delicacies. I… I…” her eyes were irresistibly drawn back to the loins of the good Father, “wanted to ask your preference.”
“I shall eat whatever you eat, Madame. Please, do not go to any trouble on my account, I pray you.”
“As… as… your… Reverence wishes,” stammered the widow, but she gave no sign of intention that she was about to leave his room. She was completely hypnotized by that huge tool which prodded against the thin material of his drawers to the bursting point.
He pillowed his head on his folded arms. “Is there anything else you want to ask me, my daughter?” he asked politely.
“N… n… no…” was all she could utter, yet her fists were clenched and her arms were drawn against her sides. Her huge bosom heaved with quick rising and falling motions, her eyes bulged and sweat broke out on her forehead. The blush had spread and her ears and the tip of her nose were almost fiery red.
Father Lang wanted to get her out of this state of shock and he decided to make it a little bit easier on her. He gave her a long and meaningful look and then said calmly, as if he were discussing the weather, “You are staring at my cock, Madame, as if it were some-ting unique. Let me assure you, dear woman that half the world's population has one. And, far be it from me to offend your modesty, but mine is frequently in this condition when I am resting. I would not want you to think that I intended any assault upon your undisputed virtue.”
“Oooh… but… I… ah… did not… think that… at all,” the blushing widow gasped. “I am sure that a priest would never take notice of such a lowly person as myself but, with your Reverence's permission, your c-cock is s-so s-swollen… that I… that I… could n-not help b-but notice it.”
“Do not feel guilty, my daughter,” was the mellow reply. “Your kindness in giving me shelter has put you high above any other woman in Paris. And I think that you are very comely, and cannot help but wonder that no honorable man has yet replaced your late husband.”
Emilia Lemaitre lowered her head. “I… I have tried, Father. But I cannot find a man worthy to replace my dear Jean-Baptiste. Of course, God forgive his soul, he did have his faults, but…”
“We all have them, my daughter.”
“Yes, your Reverence. I… I was going to mention that my poor Jean-Baptiste did not always share the bed with me as often as I wished. But… he was very much a man like you… I mean…”
She turned aside. She was terribly embarrassed at the things she had blurted out, and she would have loved to run out of the room. But she was completely under the spell of Father Lang's gigantic member. Fortunately, the good Father had seized her by the hand, and he encouraged her line of thought by saying, “I am not at all offended, my daughter. On the contrary, by comparing me to a husband who gave you heaven on earth. I feel very pleased and flattered. Marriages are made in heaven and it gladdens my heart to hear about couples who take satisfaction and joy in each other.”
“Thank you, Father. It's only that… well, that… Jean-Baptiste did not always take his joy when it was offered. We often quarreled about that. And now I repent my sinfulness. I… I asked him to do things which he said were a disgrace in the eyes of the Lord, and he swore that they were absolutely forbidden, even between husband and wife. He began to drink, and he left my bed.”