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John Bell

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(no subject) [Apr. 4th, 1992|01:23 pm]
John Bell
Jennifer (the American) and I had a great time last night. We had dinner and then went to a club and drank. We danced for an hour before getting tired. We brought a bottle of wine back with us to my hotel room and drank it while getting to know each other. I gave her the same cover story I gave Vivianne: I came to Paris to break up with my girlfriend, and decided to stay for a while and enjoy myself.

She's the same age as me, 20, and from Kansas City. She's an art history student at Rice in Houston and here for the spring semester. She's offered to travel out to the Louvre with me one day. She's been in Paris since January and had already been out there 5 times. She's pretty but not gorgeous. She's got this very sexy look, though, and it wasn't long before we were making out.

Without a doubt, she has the best set of tits I've ever seen. They're round and full, and feel great in my hands, which aren't quite big enough to handle them. She loves to have her nipples bit, and even poured some wine on them to lick off. I could spend all day and all night with those tits.

Eventually, she went down on me, and it was amazing. Susie's blow jobs were great, but Jennifer's was even better. I can't explain why, it might've just been the wine, but when I came I saw the most beautiful colors and shapes. Something she did tickled me, as I was bucking my hips enough that my cock slipped out of her mouth and some come landed on her chin. When I was done coming, she used my cock to clean it up off her chin before gently and slowly licking it off. She must've spent ten minutes doing that, but it felt like an hour.


Not long afterward, I passed out and slept like a rock. In the morning, Jennifer was still with me. I apologized for passing out on her, but she didn't mind. She apologized for being slutty, but apparently we didn't fuck. I don't remember this, but she said that after the blow job I offered to go back out to buy some condoms, but she didn't want me to. "I'm not that easy," she said.

I did buy her breakfast this morning since I felt a little guilty of passing out on her. She's run off to school now, and I've been out wandering in the rain. I'm getting nervous about my passport. I need a new one and I don't know how one gets one here in Paris.

I'm going to be calling Vivianne soon.



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(no subject) [Apr. 3rd, 1992|04:57 pm]
John Bell
I met an American girl at the Arc de Triomph today. Her name's Jennifer, and she's a cute student from Houston studying here for a semester. We met when I was trying to get a tour guide, who was speaking English to her tour group, to give me directions to a place to get lunch. The guide was a bitch, and pretended to not understand me. Fortunately, Jennifer overheard and pointed it out for me. Stupid me, it was just around the corner from the Arc.

I asked her if she wanted to join me for lunch, but she'd already eaten, so we're going out tonight. I'm not sure where, she told me how to find her hostel and I'll meet her outside of it at 7pm. I went by there after lunch, to make sure I can find it. It's not far from my hotel, maybe a ten minute walk. I still don't trust myself on the subway system yet.

I took more money out, too, today, but I'm wary to cary thousands of dollars worth of francs around with me. I need to find out where I'm going to be staying and stash my money there. I certainly don't trust it in this shithole I'm in now.
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Paris [Apr. 3rd, 1992|02:08 am]
John Bell
[Current Mood |insomniacal]

Well, I'm here. Customs was a scare. Fortunately, I beat the alert with my name on it, if one ever came. I imagine one did, but I don't know.

Anyway, by 9am I was on the bus from de Gaulle to the center of Paris. I spent time looking for a place to stay, and I found a cheap hotel room near the Seine. I can see the Eiffel Tower from my room (well, just the tip of it), and the other guests in the hotel seem as seedy as me. I counted two prostitutes out in the lobby, and the man at the front desk seemed surprised I was checking in alone.

I checked in at noon, having spent two hours wandering around finding a place. I should buy a guide book, I didn't think of it at the airport last night. But, I had enough on my mind, so that's my excuse. When I checked in, I paid for a week with cash. I then took a nap and woke up at 3pm. I walked to the Champs Elyssee and played tourist.

I took out 5,000 francs (about $1,000, I think) from a MAC machine that fortunately spoke English. It's tourist season here, and I'm just glad the Frenchies speak English. I had God knows what for dinner and liked it. The wine, of course, kicked ass. I'm back in my room now, wondering what to do tonight. Both of the whores were gone when I came back to the hotel, or else I would've been tempted. One of them from this afternoon was really cute. The other, though, I wouldn't fuck her with a stranger's dick.

It's past 2am now, and I've been staring at the ceiling for hours. Paris may be the city of lights, but here in my room I just hate my bedlamp.
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On the plane to Paris [Apr. 1st, 1992|09:20 pm]
John Bell
I'm on the plane now - ha! I rushed to the airport, of course, from the bank. I started with $5,000 in travellers checks and another $5,000 in cash. Fortunately, there was no traffic on the way to the airport, since I got there just in time to check in for the 7:15pm to Paris. Yes, or shall I say, oui?, I'm going to Paris.

At the airport I washed up and bought some magazines. We took off late, and now it's about halfway through the flight -- I can't sleep, of course. I decided to keep a diary of my trip, I don't know where I'm going beyond there. I'm writing this now on a notepad and a pen I filched from the back of the plane. During a wait for the toilet, I saw them sitting there on a cart and helped myself. I don't know what I'm going to do with this diary: maybe I'll send it home to Alicia, maybe it'll be evidence against me in court. Who knows?

Vivianne, the girl next to me, is asleep. She's 24 and returning home from a business trip in New Jersey. Earlier, she read a Paris newspaper, looking for a new job. She speaks English very well. She has brown nailpolish, accenting her honey-highlighted brown, fine hair, and brown sweater. The blue stripes on the sweater echo her deep, rich blue eyes. She is very pretty. We made smalltalk during the first part of the flight, flirting and comparing notes. She'd never been to the US before this trip, and was generally impressed. She told me that she liked the men the best.

I told her that I'm going over to Paris for the first time to break up with my girlfriend, who is a student in Paris. A complete lie, I know, but it was told with a purpose: I've already gotten Vivianne's number. We might meet up afterwards for a drink and a fuck. I'm all for it: I've heard about French women.

She fell asleep during the stupid movie, a sequel to some action flick I've not seen. I tried to get drunk, but I'm too edgy to do so -- I don't know what to expect when we land. So, now I'm drowsy, but the drone of the engines keeps me awake. I'm going to read my other magazines now. Dawn awaits.
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