The taxi driver did not seem to understand my request for him to take me toPigalle and I knew it wasn't my french which was the problem. It turnedout...he was Romanian.I wrote it down for him but when we reached the Place de la Concorde, whichI had seen pictures of, I realised I had to get out a map because I knew weshould be nowhere near there. After thirty minutes we eventually got toPigalle and I was left wondering if I would have been quicker to go bytrain, I have since learnt that I would. My pubic hair moved with thebreath, and I could feel my cock jerk. My heart throbbedin my chest, seeming to skip a beat.Then my cock began to grow. I could see it out of thecorner of my eye, and that made it even worse. I couldsee it expand and grow, could feel it begin to lengthenand expand. The class was quiet. The instructor was sitting quietlyat his desk; my pose faced me away from him as I stoodthere. He couldn’t see the hardon. I had no idea if hewould break the pose or if he would. More

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