Holiday memories are great, especially when combined with a touch of eroticism – or even something else. For example, sun, sea, 1 cup of medium roses, and pierre, waiter. Girlfriend L bought Gauloise from him 25 years ago. Of course, it didn’t stop there, as a fierce southern French night followed. It was all a long time ago, but you still remember it. Pierre was everything but Alain Delon’s bi. Pretty much like the average guy in a medium shirt – but what he said! How did he say it! Mon amour, when you talk about it, L still gets red spots in her cleavage.
Mr. Pierre left nothing in this regard at the time, lavishly reached into his chest of verbal tricks, and at one point breathed a line from Edith Piaf’s “Hymne à l’Amour”: “Pour toi, j’irais décrocher la lune translation:” ‘Cause I’ll take the moon from the sky.” He probably meant “only” the stars. It doesn’t matter. It could also be breakfast croissants – it was the sound of the voice. And then, embracing him tightly, he whispered in her ear: “Je suis à toi!”: “I’m yours!” Short but fierce Scar, the next day Mr. Pierre was free, one day later L flew to Vienna, where Sippy, a good friend, was waiting for her at the airport with “Handibussi”. Long live the difference. Nothing against the snarl Fiennes is real, but he hardly stands a chance against the sensuality of the French.
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