I Came Home With A French Souvenir, A French Girl

The flight was seven hours into Point Noir. The AF hostess was talkative, night flights aren't busy. I got out of her where she was staying, she flew back in two days, the whole crew was laying over. I asked her if i went to the hotel would she see me. She touched my chin and told me I knew better, she couldn't see anyone who flew with her. i asked the other way, if she came over, would she mind seeing me. I gave her my hotel and waited.

I got a text at ten the next morning, I had showered and shaved, my first meeting was at 2:00, I never scheduled a meeting until I was recovered from the overnight flight. I answered the text 'where are you?', she answered 'waiting in the lobby'. I went down, she was in civilian clothes and we went into the restaurant for coffee. We talked a little bit about her job and a little bit about my job and a little bit about seeing men that she didn't know well. We can be friends, that is what I was reading.

I asked her to see me for dinner and she said that she was committed with her crew, and missing wasn't an option, So, to sum it up, it was eleven by then and my meeting was two and what were we to do? We went up to my room, she slipped out of her top in a jiffy, turned to me and let her bra fall to the floor. "Am I big enough for you?". Damn right, her tits were perfect, I moved over and gently kissed her nipples. She worked on my belt as I kissed her, her neck, her mouth, her nipples. My pants had long since fallen to the floor around my ankles.

I stepped out of my pants and put her on the bed and pulled her short skirt off of her, she wore typically French lingerie, black and lacy. No evidence of any pubes, she was perfectly waxed and beautiful. I kissed her there, slowly, and flipped her hot button with the tip of my tongue while she ran her hands through my hair. I pushed in with my tongue and she was all wet and tasty, she must have showered and douched, she was way too clean for not having done so. I made love to her, I don't want to use the word fucked her, I made love to her, she was just too pretty to fuck. Girls like her are made love to.

After I had completed myself, she was swollen and her lips parted open. She asked if I liked French girls. I said yes, I did. Hadn't I showed her.

Well then she said she wanted to ask me something. "If I liked French girls and I had made love to her, would I take her back with me?" She went on to say she was at that time of the month when women get pregnant. She wanted a husband to take care of her, a real husband, not a Frenchman. One who liked French girls and liked getting them pregnant.

I didn't make my two o'clock meeting, We had lunch in the room from rooms service. It was a long negotiation that I could only lose. One way or another I understood pretty early, I was taking her back with me. She flew back with me, she worked her last flight that day back to Paris. We flew to NY and then to Las Vegas. She had her papers with her and we got married, four days after meeting her. She was pregnant, she wasn't kidding. She was young for me, a difference of seventeen years.

She wanted one thing, and one thing only, to be a housewife and have children. I heard all about Catholics and how many children she thought appropriate. I didn't know it then but I was converting, and we had a Catholic ceremony in her home town with her family and neighbors. She stood with her hands under her belly, not the first French girl getting married when she is pregnant.

Traveling from then on was going to be an ordeal. She had to make sure that I wasn't asking some girl to meet me. I heard over and over about jealous French girls. I took another job, one that didn't require travel. The only trip we made that year was home to see her mother and father, and to introduce the new baby. My name is Peter, they call me Pierre. Her mother kids me for picking a young girl, little does she realize that her daughter did the picking.