Pierre the aviator
This is the story of a famous French aviator. Handsome, dashing
with big dark eyes, thick black swept back hair, and a bushy
handlebar mustache. A Frenchman from the days when men were
men, women were pleased and planes were made from wood, fabric
and flown on sinew.
Pierre is back from another successful mission, has wined and
dined and pretty well pulled the prettiest girl in town. He has
her back in his room.
He kisses her forehead, eyelids and the tip of her nose.
"Ooooh," she thinks. Suddenly Pierre goes off
and gets a bottle of red wine, sprinkles it on her lips and
kisses her passionately.
"Ooooh," she says as she comes up for breath."
That's very nice, but why the red wine?" "Aha," he
says. "I am Pierre the famous fighter pilot. When I ave red
meat, I ave de red wine!"
They continue. Clothing is gradually discarded.
He kisses her chin, her neck, her cleavage. He goes
and gets a bottle of white wine this time and sprinkles it on her
breasts and kisses them passionately. "Ooooh", she says. "That's
very nice, but why the white wine?" "Aha I am Pierre, the famous
fighter pilot. When I ave white meat, I ave de white wine!"
Matters progress further.
More clothing is discarded. He kisses her navel, her stomach,
the tops of her thighs. "Ooooh", she thinks. "OOOOOH!!"
Pierre then goes and gets a bottle of Cognac,
sprinkles it liberally over her fluffy bits and sets it alight.
"AAAAAAGH", she screams leaping from the bed trying to beat out
her burning bush. "You idiot!, why did you do that for?"
"Aha I am Pierre, the famous fighter pilot. When I go down.....I go
down in FLAMES!"
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