Chapter 1

Marie Claudet was a very good wife. Sure, she was French but it didn't mean she was perverted or anything like that. Her middle-aged spouse was one of those 1 percenters that lived off the sweat of the other 99 percent that did all the work.

Marie was always dressed impeccably. She liked to wear the latest fashions from Paris and her thoughtful hubby never put any constraints on her purchases of clothing or items designed to make her more beautiful for his admiring eye.

Her mother was very pragmatic about the marriage of her 16 year old daughter to a man 30 years her senior. In fact, Pierre Claudet was almost ten years older than Marie's money conscious mother and considerably less attractive. She had wormed her way into the confidence of the filthy rich banker by pretending to faint in his private office while discussing the state of her late husband's financial affairs.

Jeanette Dumas had married the late A. Dumas at the insistence of her destitute father in need of new funds for his tiny tailor shop. The very smitten Mr. Dumas had been enamored of Jeanette's shapely bottom. An impressive posterior that looked every bit as nice at 36 as it did at 16. Marie's mother Jeanette offered her pleasurable nether regions to the banker Claudet in compensation for his forgiveness of her late husband's unwise investments in speculative Russian bonds. The banker considered the exchange to be to his advantage as the widow's plump bottom was far superior to the crude girls at the dance hall. He thoroughly enjoyed humiliating the submissive female with his perverted demands on her person.

Pierre was riding the sweaty arse of Madame Dumas in her private bedroom when the 16 year old Marie walked in and observed their coupling with some degree of interest. The young virgin had been taking care of her own needs for some months and was greatly desirous of exercising her female parts with a proper male shaft poking into all of her secret little corners and right up inside her virginal core.

The banker impaled the mother with inspired vigor whilst watching the young Marie move her hand with desperate urgency under her petticoats. His financial settlement with her mother sealed the bargain and shortly after Pierre and Marie were joined together in the holy bonds of matrimony much to the disgust of Pierre's bed-ridden mother who had wanted a marriage to a female with financial assets of her own.

The wedding night for Marie was eye-opener. She was much affrighted by the spirited probing of her virginal slit and called out to her mother outside the door to her bedroom. Jeanette held the girl's hand and kissed her cheek to calm her when the banker took the final thrust that deprived her of her unwanted cherry.

"Such a good girl you are, my little Marie. You must be ready to pleasure M. Claudet with your newly opened pussy at his convenience. Now watch how M. Claudet likes to avail himself of a female brown eye before falling into his sleep."

The re-vitalized banker spread the mother's arse cheeks wide and planted his thick cock right on her tight little anus. Marie watched wide-eyed as her mother opened her rear door for the banker's pleasure. The grunts and groans from both of them caused her play shamelessly with her own recently opened pussy without any thought of privacy.

Marie was 21 now, her mother was 41 and the banker M. Claudet was 51 and more sexually active than ever. Each and every night, Marie spread her legs for the banker's pleasure and she had learned several kinky tricks that made her husband groan in complete happiness. The additional benefit of her own mother granting the banker every sexual favor he could dream up in his perverted mind allowed her to pursue her hobby of drawing the quiet splendors of the many Church and Cemetery scenes abundant in the region.

The early morning light was just as she imagined it would be. The Churchyard Cemetery was gleaming after the dawn's light shower that cleansed the tombstones with a touch of heavenly respite. She sat on her folding stool with her sculptured arse cheeks hugging the rough canvas seat like the delicate feel of a lover's kiss.

She squirmed just a little bit. A very unladylike itch had developed right in the crack of her arse. Marie looked around but there was no one in view in any direction. She pulled up her walking dress and shifted her bloomers to one side to allow her fingers to scratch her feminine folds to rid herself of the unseemly itch. It felt so good, she allowed her hand to remain momentarily and stroke some stress from her seldom penetrated brown eye. A discrete cough startled her and she rearranged her clothing in a more ladylike manner before looking over her shoulder at a young gentleman standing behind her.

"My, you startled me sir! I was preparing to put the lovely scene to pen and paper. I hope I am not trespassing in restricted space."

At closer inspection, she saw that the young man was wearing clerical garb which identified him as being a man of the "collar". She remembered thinking it would be a shame if he had taken vows of chastity and would deprive young females of the pleasure of his well-formed body searching for redemption between their legs.

"Indeed not, Miss. You are welcome to avail yourself of any spot in Saint Timothy's and draw what your pretty little heart desires."

Marie noticed that there was a visible bulge inside the young man's trousers and realized he was much smitten with her relaxed pose on the low stool. She hoped that her raised knees were not revealing the fleshy areas of her legs to his gaze. She giggled, thinking that at least her bloomers were nice and clean.

"I am the assistant rector here at Saint Timothy's. My name is Reverend Harris and I welcome you to our humble parish. Would you like to see the painting that brings repute to our church? It hangs in the outer rectory and has been the inspiration for many an artist coming from some distance to our little church."

Marie gathered up her easel and her little folding chair and followed the young man to the location he had been so kind to recommend. The painting was almost two hundred years old and it was a true work of art. She took the opportunity to observe the young churchman and realized he was of the split away faith and was most likely not subject to any requirement for a vow of chastity. For some unknown reason, she felt overly relieved even though she had no plan to couple with the young fellow. Her sense of loyalty to her husband was still as strong as the day she was married and she would not want to risk any harm to her marriage not matter how tempting the cock may be.