When we arrived at the club, the host introduced himself as Leo, a Latin looking guy wearing shorts and a muscle shirt. Leo immediately ignored me and... grabbing Cynthia by the arm, gave her the grand tour of the premises while I followed along behind. We walked down a corridor to a door marked "Gang-Bang Room". The floor was upholstered and looked like one large mattress. There were also several raised benches, a circular bench in the center and mirrors on the ceiling. "Every Friday night is. "Holy fucking shit!"#Jill's ear-piercing little scream actually startled me, I hadn't expected that. But then again, I don't think she'd expected it either. I had never seen a woman thrash back and forth as wildly beneath me as she did. Her fingers all but digging into my scalp as she pressed herself against me as she came, and as she mashed my head so deeply into her that I could barely even breathe. But somehow I managed to, all the while continuing to gently flick the tip of my tongue back. As she moved to the one side to read the tape, she pushed her breasts against his chest and rubbed them across it as she moved to his side. His knees felt weak, and he almost collapsed as he felt her lower body brush against his cock as she moved to read the numbers on the tape. "That does it for the shirt and the jacket, now we need to get measurements for your pants," she stated. The first thing he thought of was his erection. There would be no hiding it. She wrote more numbers down on her. He wanted the bright lights, money and fame and he had to start somewhere. Without thinking James agreed to go and before he knew it they were on a flight to France. They flew in a private jet so James knew these guys had money and he wanted what they had. The men had assured James they would supply him with food and clothes while he was there. They landed hours later in a small airport on the coast of France. James walked off the plane. It was sunny and the air was fresh. He felt like he was.