Have you ever been there? If so, you will understand. Perhaps your city is a different one. But Paris was mine. It is a city of innate sensuality. It ...s unmistakably real, with palpable beauty. Not like some other cities, whose realities are harsh and dirty and damaging. Paris’ beauty lives in the moment and in the senses. Its only harshness is that it is a place where you must find yourself, or someone else will inevitably show you who you should have been. Paris does not suffer fools. Only. It was always something. And if that wasn't bad enough, girls wouldn't fuck me. The first time was when I was at a party. A junior gal came on to me so we freaked danced, and she felt my dick more than once. She led me to an empty bedroom upstairs, dropped her jeans, pulled off her sweater and laid on the bed. I tossed off my shirt and jeans, leaving my briefs on, my dick sticking out. I knelt on the bed and she pulled down my briefs, my dick popping out, fully hard. Her eyes went so wide I. And then I do know. I didn’t need that first kiss to know, or this week of torture. I just needed this look he was giving me now. Eyes squinting against something he can’t bear, looking like he hasn’t slept in a week, and yet still looking at me because I’m what he wants to look at. Even soaking in the rain. ‘I don’t think I know how to be around you anymore, Ella,’ he admits and his voice catches. Terror brushes my heart like icy fingers. ‘You can’t go, Ben. Fuck that. No, I won’t let you go.’. She tried hard to concentrate on the cock in her mouth, but the tool sawing insistently through her snatch overwhelmed her. Her lower body rocked back to meet the inward thrusts of the cock and the pleasure surged through her loins, snatch and belly. She continued to suck at the thick prick in her mouth but the cock inside her cunt was the one that brought her to orgasm. Her mouth groaned and hummed around The Master’s meat but it was her gash that quivered around the erupting glans.As both.