I can't believe it's finally come true. My whole life I've wanted to come here, to Love's capital of the world, gay Paris. And I owe it all to you. Nick, today has been so amazing, and you've made it all possible: the Louvre, Notre Dame, le mayonnaise - everything has been filled with romance and passion, just like when we first met. That is why tonight, now that we are back in l'hotellerie, I'm going to put it all on the line. I want to get dirty. Nick, I want your soupe du jour all over my naked bloc-notes!
Oh, I know how you like it. You're shy, but I know exactly what you want. You want me to wrap my soft little singes around your rock hard copieur and take it all in. It's ok - I like it. Mmm, I can just imagine you laying me softly against our goose-feather down tableau noir, caressing my quivering sous-marin. It always gets me so hot. But don't be too gentle; sometimes I just need your rippling, writhing muscles to throw me down hard and give me the hardest tour de main of my life. Oh, God, yes!
And I know I'm not supposed to like it. I know the Catholic Church would have me excommunicated for it. But I can't help myself. Please, please, give me your cote ouest de delit! Here, I'll pretend you're l'homme sur la lune and you can pretend I'm a conducteur du dossier siege. Oh, yes, let's do it. I've always wanted that, and I've been a bad little sans-abri. It's such a mauvaise traduction. I want it now, I need your girouette in my wet poubelle.
Remember that time when we were in Japan, and I gave you origato in the bathroom stall of the Takashi's downtown? That's what I need right now: a big appuyez sur un balayage, de deux a imprimer with a hot tasse a cafe in my mouth!