Saint-Tropez, 1985. Alain had me pinned against the wall of the men's restroom, his hand on the back of my neck, his hot, heavy breath on my throat. "You're horny, aren't you?" He didn't wait for an answer. He kicked the door open, slammed me against the cold, grimy tiles, and I felt his erection against my stomach. "On your knees, now." I obeyed without hesitation. The floor was disgusting, sticky, but I didn't care. I undid his belt, his jeans fell to the floor, and his cock sprang out, thick, veiny, almost violent. "Open wide, bitch." I opened. He shoved his cock into my mouth without warning, until I felt his glans hit my throat. I choked, my eyes stinging, but I pressed my lips together, determined to take it all. "Deeper, or I'll hurt you." His fingers twisted in my hair, pulling just enough so I knew he wasn't kidding. I sped up, saliva dripping down his balls, my tongue circling the head of his penis before plunging back in. "Damn, you're good for a first time." His words excited me even more. I dug my cheeks in, took his cock dee ...

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