Paris Blues
Young man finds language difficulties in a relationship
Mike’s final forceful thrust sent Fleurette’s squeal of orgasmic rapture soaring into the Parisian night. Mike, fingers skimming warm breasts, eased her weight off him. Despite his basic French, she had to know. “C’est fini,” he growled. “Mais pourquoi?” Mike sighed. Wildly demanding all night, Fleurette needed to realise, “C’est tout.” Her eyes showed dismay. His softness slithered out of her, leaving an empty cavern, a...