It drew him closer, like a bee to a flower, and before he knew what was happening his tongue was parting her lips.Her grip on his hair grew stronger, ...s if she was afraid that he might escape from her grasp. She seethed with arousal as he explored her vulva, tracing the creases and folds of her organ with the tip of his tongue. He could feel her powerful muscles flexing beneath her fat as she squirmed, rolling her hips, grinding against his face as if seeking to drive him deeper. She was. Yes, Laurence was, like me "une ?trang?re".Only I did not know it yet. I still thought of myself as "un ?tranger"although with my poor French accent when I first arrived in Beaune I tendedto describe myself as "une ?trang?re" much to the amusement of Laurence andmy fellow teachers. After a few weeks, I got used to the differencebetween "un" and "une" and learnt to shorten "?trang?re" party thanks tothe Fredericks, Goldman and Jones song "Nuit" which spoke of a woman as"mon intime. More

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