He was walking through the Quartier Latin, the muddy Sienne to his left, on his way to a certain shabby apartment where a young woman waited.His assig...ment itself was not unusual. As a member of the Gestapo, part of his job was to deal with agents of subversion such as this one. No, what was unusual was the woman herself. He smiled as he pictured her, young and supple, with the hauteur that Parisian women were famous for, a lover of one of the Resistance leaders. He saw the address on the small. Here is this magnificent thing. How can we keep it from going to waste?"I wonder, she mused. "I wonder if that would go in. What do you think, Bea?"Oddly, my curiosity had taken me over completely. Whereas the thought of Helen with Clyde had embarrassed me, the thought of her with the pony quickly aroused me. Clyde seemed so human. The pony was more impersonal.I knew, though, that it was the immense thing he was carrying that outweighed all other considerations. There is nothing like the sight. But can you smile and be more sexy” (I don’t know if the “bon” was just a turn of phrase or an expression of approval of my dimensional attributes. With luck it was the latter – although my penis is not enormous, it is, even if I say so myself, well proportioned – oh well of average length - when it’s up!). Anyway it was now clear she wanted my penis in the pictures. Mind if by “plus sexy” she meant that she wanted my penis even bigger she was in luck.Because it was getting decidedly bigger.. Not Bart.He was a wild man. He discarded his trousers, turnedme around, bent me over and fucked me! I mean fuckedme hard. And he reached around to stroke my bigbusiness as he fucked me. We lasted maybe fiveminutes at that, then came together in a squealing,grunting cummy mess.It was glorious. And the network never even went tocommercial.At a signal from me, all 48 of the non-finalistsappeared on stage, all barefoot and "pregnant" --waving at the crowd. Debilitating men by themillions.Bart.