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Everyone was getting on my nerves, so I finally decided to walk away.
Even though he was older, and a little heavy, Jack was not timid. He kissed my breasts and then was sucking both my nipples. All the time he was continuing his dialogue in French. We fucked once more while he slapped my ass and pulled my hair from behind, until we both crashed out on the bed. This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved.
This clearly was not his first time, which I was thankful for. He moved lower until he slid my bottoms off.“Yes, baby.” Moaning and continuing to speak in French, he just dove in with his face and fingers. Between his spit and my wetness, was soaked pretty fast. I let him devour me with his mouth until I had my first orgasm. Out flopped his beautiful seven inch, thick, uncut cock. We both napped for a good twenty minutes before I said I had to go. I wanted to jump in the ocean and wash his cum out of me and off of me, but the water was unusually cold for this time of year. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.
I then asked him where he was staying, and he mentioned he rented a cottage for a week, as he did every year. He continued holding my hand until we came to the next street. He pulled me close to hold me and he boldly kissed me saying, “Vous êtes belle et j'ai un bon pénis non coupé pour vous.
We had now walked further than we had before when we had been on the beach. "I smiled enjoying the romance of the French language, “What were you saying to me, when we crossed the street?
Tu es écoeurante." I shook my head, "Sorry, that's the only word I really know in French.""Pardon, cherie. He walked toward me and asked, “How did you know I was Canadian? I then further explained that he looked very pale and was different looking from the rest of the guys near the Pier. “I am Jack and hail from Montreal."I smiled encouragingly and replied, "Nice to meet you, Jack.
I am Lindsey." Taking this as an invitation he asked, “Do you mind if I walked with you? I was dying to get laid, so I waited for an opening to feel out the situation. I told him about how I was of French Canadian descent, but had been born and grew up in America.
Continuing to engage him in small talk I went on telling him how being on vacation with the family was driving me stir-crazy, so occasionally I would go for long walks.
He laughed as he made his move, “I love American women.” “Yeah, well I like Canadian men,” I replied wanting to keep him talking.
He looked over at me skeptically, “Why do you make up stuff, about liking Canadian guys.”At first, I said, “Well you are polite and more laid back than American guys.” He agreed with me.
I then took my chance knowing it was time to see if I was going to score.
” Jack was about five foot eight inches tall, with black curly thinning hair. He rambled on about life in Montreal and why he comes to Maine to vacation.