I arranged for a rendezvous recently with Ashley Sweet since all my other dalliances with her have been so wonderful and robust. She had phoned to confirm my session, and hinted at yet another costume surprise for me.
Wondering what it could be, I impatiently waited for my two-hour session to begin.
Once I arrived at Sweet’s sweet suite, she let me in but before I could catch a glimpse of her she’d quickly vanished to her dressing room to finish putting on her latest ensemble. I waited in the living room browsing through the National Enquirer’s latest swimsuit edition.
(Oh Elle McPherson… Oh Elle… Oh Elle! Oh Elle!!! OH ELLE!!!...)
Fortunately Ashley sashayed into the room to join me before I ended up splooging onto the pages of her newspaper.
She was dressed in an absolutely delicious French Maid outfit that was cuter and better than anything I’d ever seen at the French Maid Sports Pub.
Despite misplacing her duster, the ensemble was sexy anyway because of who was wearing it.
I suddenly felt myself both stiffening and turning into Pierre le Wad, eminent and debonair professeur des relations sexuelles.
I immediately tossed the Enquirer onto the floor and commanded la petite soubrette Ashley to pick it up. Pierre was now sounding like half-Jean Chretien/half-Inspector Clouseau/half-Pepe le Pew.
Ashley bent over to get the paper, allowing her skirt to expose two tantalizing loaves of tushy.
Ooh la la! Pierre wanted to dip his croissant into Ashley’s poutine.
Soon la belle fille Ashley was straddling Pierre on the couch, fast becoming a Deep French Kiss Maid. Pierre suckled on two humungous tatas (des seins magnifiques!) until Ashley began devouring Pierre’s sausage d’amour.
‘Sacre bleu!’ Pierre exclaimed as he splattered his liquide séminal all over her bien roulée.
Ashley got a cloth and cleaned her chest and my dribbling schlong, and it was then time to relax in the bedroom.
Pierre noticed that the duvet was slightly improperly folded, so the bad Maid was spanked as punishment for her failure.
Her cheeks were quickly caressed and soon enough some more hanky-panky began.
French Maid Ashley soothed Pierre’s resurrecting sex chisel with determination, and Pierre tried to reciprocate.
Soon there were some passionate shudders by Ashley and some relaxed smiles from Pierre following some chien and some soixante-neuf.
All in all, encore!, it was another wonderful soiree and Pierre ended up with a cleaned and sheened machine.
FIN.
Wondering what it could be, I impatiently waited for my two-hour session to begin.
Once I arrived at Sweet’s sweet suite, she let me in but before I could catch a glimpse of her she’d quickly vanished to her dressing room to finish putting on her latest ensemble. I waited in the living room browsing through the National Enquirer’s latest swimsuit edition.
(Oh Elle McPherson… Oh Elle… Oh Elle! Oh Elle!!! OH ELLE!!!...)
Fortunately Ashley sashayed into the room to join me before I ended up splooging onto the pages of her newspaper.
She was dressed in an absolutely delicious French Maid outfit that was cuter and better than anything I’d ever seen at the French Maid Sports Pub.
Despite misplacing her duster, the ensemble was sexy anyway because of who was wearing it.
I suddenly felt myself both stiffening and turning into Pierre le Wad, eminent and debonair professeur des relations sexuelles.
I immediately tossed the Enquirer onto the floor and commanded la petite soubrette Ashley to pick it up. Pierre was now sounding like half-Jean Chretien/half-Inspector Clouseau/half-Pepe le Pew.
Ashley bent over to get the paper, allowing her skirt to expose two tantalizing loaves of tushy.
Ooh la la! Pierre wanted to dip his croissant into Ashley’s poutine.
Soon la belle fille Ashley was straddling Pierre on the couch, fast becoming a Deep French Kiss Maid. Pierre suckled on two humungous tatas (des seins magnifiques!) until Ashley began devouring Pierre’s sausage d’amour.
‘Sacre bleu!’ Pierre exclaimed as he splattered his liquide séminal all over her bien roulée.
Ashley got a cloth and cleaned her chest and my dribbling schlong, and it was then time to relax in the bedroom.
Pierre noticed that the duvet was slightly improperly folded, so the bad Maid was spanked as punishment for her failure.
Her cheeks were quickly caressed and soon enough some more hanky-panky began.
French Maid Ashley soothed Pierre’s resurrecting sex chisel with determination, and Pierre tried to reciprocate.
Soon there were some passionate shudders by Ashley and some relaxed smiles from Pierre following some chien and some soixante-neuf.
All in all, encore!, it was another wonderful soiree and Pierre ended up with a cleaned and sheened machine.
FIN.
