Mon Pénis Ne Parle Pas Français

With a classic little 1 – 2 step on the dance floor is how I met Steph. A french singer on holiday in Thailand. There is always something sensual about girls when they are on holiday, maybe they just like to be extra naughty when they’re away from home.

When we got back to my place, she made a straight line for my still soft, little man. No kissing. No foreplay. Just, straight for my shorts. She had them around my ankles in a flash and popped my limp noodle in her mouth, with what seemed like the crazed desperation of a cock starved woman.

Once she emerged from sucking me rock har, her dark eyes fixated on my hard on. “Bonjour misure, where ‘ave you been all my life?” She said in a low raspy voice with that sexy French accent.

She then instructed me to lie on my bed, where she quickly tied me up to the bedpost. A little taken aback by her demand for my cock, I was more than happy to oblige.

I spent the rest of the evening listening to a half French, half English conversation between her and my penis. Not that I’m complaining, being treated like a piece of meat was a real turn on for me.

Even more, her firm and aggressiv demand for pleasure was quite possibly one of the hottest things I’ve ever experienced. In one swift move, she turned around and forced her soaking wet vagina on my face, demanding me to give it attention. She was so riled up she couldn’t decide which language to give her orders in.

Merci Steph, for a wonderful evening.

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