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Don't be surprised, as I was, if all three room service requests are delivered individually, by different staff members. None of them would accept money, and seemed content to settle for just a handjob in the bathroom. I was grateful that the first thing to arrive was the aspirin, so that I could begin to cope with the splitting headache. The young French lad who delivered it astutely guessed that I was hung over, and volunteered to provide a special ancient family remedy that he swore was foolproof. I gratefully accepted, and discovered that his wonderful massage actually did take my mind off my head. And, he tells me, I don't have any lumps! Feeling invigorated and alive after my breakfast, I quickly don my new lingerie, and toss a tight white cotton dress, cut low in front and short in the skirt, over it. Then, jumping into a pair of sensible fuck-me pumps (suitable for walking) and glancing in the mirror for one last look, I head out. True, the red and black corset and panties are visible through the white cotton if you look homemade closely enough, but the stocking tops are hidden as long as I tug the skirt down and my nipples are fairly light coloured, so they can barely be seen. Heading along the Boulevard St. Germain, I descend into the Metro. My first stop will be the Louvre (lewvrah, or lewv, or something). I depart the Metro at Les Halles (lay zall), as did most of the men on the amateur train. Always the gentlemen, they insist that I go up the stairs before them - and even wait until I am five or ten steps up before they begin to follow. The Louvre is one of the highlights of Paris. Not only is it the home of much of the world's best art, it's also alive with Paris' best and brightest aspiring artists copying the masters for practice. While admiring a nude, I am approached by a young fellow who engages Hardcore me in a fascinating conversation about the way the artist has captured the skin tones on the model's nipples, and enlightening me on the courage of the couple artist in foregoing the traditional fig leaf, to paint the vagina in all its splendid detail. I'll never look at a vagina the same way again. He tells me he knows of some other full-frontal nudes in a gallery closed to the public, and asks if I'd like to see them. "Oh, oui! (oh wee)" I exclaim, and in seconds we are in a locked room, surrounded by some indian of the most exquisite pussy ever painted. Pointing at one that I thought was brilliant, my new friend declares it amateurish and unrealistic. My god she was trying to kill indian me! I was struggling to throw my body toward her, to complete what she had started. I stood up and looked in the mirror. "Then I would think about putting my cock between your tits and fucking them!" What else can I do for your sexual pleasure today?” Sarah asks as she teases Biena’s engorged nipples. Kayleigh cleaned up for the last time. “Darling, this is Samantha. "Initially, I amateur thought she had transformed simply because she was near us both at the same homemade time, but I've been thinking maybe it was an ability she has. Sweet fuck, look at THAT! Then I found an adult version of charades. I was intent on penetrating her as deep and spreading her as wide open anyone has ever done her. She took some of the shampoo in her hand and lathered up her hair. “I want a baby. I dumped my boyfriend. Misty Gardner sat in her car outside her flat and collected her things. He pulled back to ready another punishing fuck-thrust, but his cock slipped from my pussy. Ava giggled, shaking her head, her hair swaying about her back. She was lost to the throes of passion, couple and she slipped off the table, kept upright by the strength of her wobbling legs and Darius’ hand, cupping her pubis. “Is she going to make Hardcore you cum?” I growled at my girlfriend. They felt cold again, from a fresh coat of lube he’d apparently applied. I did! SMACK! “Well, we’ll be going.” Kevin announces the obvious. Derrick smiled towards the camera.