Youdon't believe me? Just try getting off a train at Gare de Lyon and findinga taxi driver who can speak French properly.That was my first experience...of Paris.I had spent a year living in la Bourgogne, (which now considers itself partof real France) and was due to meet with Serge, the son of a teacher calledLaurence, who I had made friends with in Beaune. At least that was what Iwas told.Laurence had, quite sensibly, as soon as she had learnt to drive, persuadedher Papa to give her some. "Pat tried to explain how she was feeling, but found it challenging.Pat said she should shower, and when she had, she would like to go out for a drink. I washed my face and hands while Pat showered. I watched Pat through the steamed glass as she cleaned herself. Her hand touched the side of the shower wall and cleared a section. Pat's pussy appeared close to the transparency, and I watched her cleaning herself. She seemed to be making a spectacle for me, her fingers running over her pussy lips.. More

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