She throws herself wantonly at the tempting director.

To Pierre's surprise and delight, Jane responded eagerly to his **** on her mouth. Her lips parted, and her tongue danced with his as she ground her hips against his groin, loving the feeling of the hardness within his pants. He loosened his grip on her wrists, and her hands quickly rose to pop open the buttons of his shirt and push it from his shoulders. Pierre's expert fingers quickly unhooked her bra and slid the bit of lace from her tan, firm body, revealing a pair of perky, B-cup breasts topped with pebbled, pink nipples. Breaking the kiss, he lowered her onto the bed behind her and lay above her. The feeling of skin-against-skin, nipple-against nipple sent electricity through the bodies of the American co-ed and the French movie director.

"I want you, Pierre. I need you," breathed Jane, surpised by the wantoness of her own words, her own body, as her hips rose instinctively against his.

Monseiur Baudelaire didn't know what to do. He had intended to teach the girl a lesson, but here she was, begging him to fuck her! Things were definitely not going as planned. Then, an idea came to his twisted mind.

Stripping off his pants and briefs, Pierre knelt over Jane's face, his thick, nine-inch cock resting on her closed mouth. "Suck it, bitch!" he demanded. "Suck my dick, slut, and then maybe I'll give you what you want. Maybe then you'll be grateful for what I have to offer!"

Jane had never been a big fan of giving blow jobs...