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Viewing the local antiquities

 
 
My French was not good 


Not the fat one, not the old one, not the one with the scar lifting her lip:

Black flesh under the street lights, in the doorways, the sidestreets, the alleys, the first time I strolled up, then down Ste ——— in Paris:

I'd just wanted to look.

Walking back to my pension, a little man followed me; I rounded on him, saw his trembling smile, waved my arms, shouted. And drove him away.


NOTE If you arrived here via a search engine's hit on "French," see stories under "Selected Services" in the sidebar at "Blowjob" (or see Lan's got her lips pursed) and at "Cunnilingus" (or see Unsafe).

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2 Comments:

We're headed to Paris for a few weeks this fall, petsitting in Montmartre for some folks we befriended on craigslist. I'll watch out for little men.

By Blogger dangerouspenguin, at June 20, 2006 11:06 AM  

Wow, that's fantastic! Enjoy. It's a lovely time of the year in Paris, or lovelier, I should say.

By Blogger John Psmyth, at June 20, 2006 12:13 PM  

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