#99247 - The libertine was lost in the clouds, his weapon's hair rubbed the cute little hole he would fain have perforated: one of his hands fondled this delicious little cupid's buttocks, with the other he frigged Céladon's prick. In that you have not required me, Messieurs, to give you an exact day by day account of everything that happened to me at Madame Guérin's establishment, but simply to relate the more out of the ordinary events which highlighted some of those days, I shall omit mention of several not very interesting episodes dating from my childhood, for they would be naught but tedious repetitions of what you have heard already. At first we though she was a new recruit, but no, she quickly disabused us by explaining that she had come for only one party.
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