DAYUM

"Oh my GOD! It's true what they say about you types, it's true, it's true!!!!" Jorella gasps in radiant pleasure and crawls on her knees in her shiny slip to Jacques exposed member, soiling it on the dirty floor of the inn's room.

"MMMM, UHHH, UHHH, mMmm", Jorella mumbles as she sucks for all she's worth, her eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Uh...honey," Jacques interrupts, "you're sucking on my elbow..."

This is a mistake Jorella quickly corrects as man meat fills her mouth.

In just a few seconds she's gotten him bulging like a Polemerian squash at harvest and hard as Zantharite jewels, all the better for her to throw off her slip and show him her undergarment, a gorgeous garment that seems a peachy mix of gold strings and pink silken strands.

But there's something under it, which Jacques notices, no stranger to having women throw themselves at him, he smirks, "Jorella, is your burlap showing?"

"eep", she squeaks out like a mouse has just run out of her cake.

"Why would you wear this Jorella?!" Jacques begin to accuse angrily.

"I'm sorry...I...I used to, and they feel good...and they are durable, and lucky!"

"Of course they are, Jorella," Jacques smiles broadly, "but these aren't.", he returns the favor Jorella paid him and tears apart her exquisite underwear into a sexy rag, "Why would you cover these?! They gorgeous!", Jacques points to her exposed burlap wrap with genuine affection.

From an old sack of farm produces, ripped into a long strip and twirled around her pussy. Jorella has also used it to conceal numerous treasures, just in case of...dare she think (DARE, DARE!) THIEVES! She's read a brochure from fifty years ago that told her to tuck some valuable in her underwear, in case she was ever stripped she could still go home, so concealed in the cheap fabric is not gold coins, but pearls and jewels which now clatter to her hotel room floor and scatter, some under the bed, the dresser, as it's unwrapped like a mummy's bandages, neither lover caring as they begin a long session of love making.

After awaking in the morning Jorella finds a cart waiting of gigantic sausages on a platter placed outside her door.

She rolls it in, ignorant that this is the standard after coitus breakfast for a woman who's been taken by Jacques, not for her, but for her to feed him.

"More, more, I... please, one more!", Jorella pleads as Jacques pushes his plate away, even his vast lust nearly exhausted.

"Sorry, baby, seven is my limit on schnitzel."

"Come on, just ONE MORE!", Jorella pleads.

Jacques stands up from the table, disgusted, "Sorry baby, but I am not from HAVANA!", and shuffles out of the room with an underwear clad Jorella grasping at his knees, pleading, "No, no, don't go, I can't live without you! I never met anyone like you before!"

Jacques slammed the door in her face.

"GO! Men, you're all the same! God...I'm in love!"