Ardeche : by (c)  Hamilton Joyce  Mm

The stone wall snaked across the contour offering the only path through the tangle of thorns, aromatic shrubs and even wild vines that filled the terraces. Although abandoned several generations these walls had been well built and the loose stones were still solidly in place. I was wearing sandals and had to be careful not to stub a toe: sometimes my feet would dislodge a rock which fell into the bushes below, and I felt a pang of guilt at helping to destroy a work of man that had stood for so long. I moved silently, to my ears at least, but bright green lizards skeetered away, and occasionally a viper sunning itself on the rocks would slide off equally silently. The nasty little brown scorpions would all be hiding from the fierce sun, but I had found and befriended a green praying mantis which was riding happily on my t-shirt that I had taken off and wedged in the waistband of my shorts.

To that fourteen year old urban boy this seemed close to paradise. I always was a loner, probably because my background cut me off from the two communities to which I should have belonged. My father was an Indian, a doctor in the Indian Army. I never knew him, but have seen pictures of a huge, muscular man with great military moustaches. My mother is a doctor too, and practises in Birmingham: she is a petite blonde. They met when she was working for a charity after an earthquake in Northern India, and I was the product of their fleeting passion for each other. He was killed soon after when his jeep left the road into a flooded ravine. She never married. So it was just me and her. I was half-Indian, half-English, and felt neither.

I decided to walk as far as a great rock outcrop which interrupted the wall along the top of which I was walking. It seemed to be the anchor on which the wall was secured.

At fourteen I was a handsome lad. That is not vanity, as I know men (and women too I guess) were attracted to me, and took incredible risks to enjoy my body (not the women!). I now have my father's build, but back then my holiday photos show a slender lad just beginning to gain muscle in his shoulders and arms, but still with a boy's slender legs, and a tiny little arse, discretely covered in sky-blue swimming trunks. My skin colour was midway between my father's and my mother's, a light brown, deeper though than any sun-tan. Despite the dark skin, I had my mother's blonde hair and I'm sure it was this that sent men mad for me, the contrast between my darkish skin tone and blonde hair. I was good-looking! (In fact even then I cheated a bit as my hair was a sort of mousey brown, but when my mother dyed her hair a deeper blonde, she would use half the bottle on me. Later, when my pubic and other body hair grew it was a horrid ginger-red. I can't stand that in other men either, and that is why I always shave or wax everything. As a boy I wore my hair in a pony-tail, like many of the pop-stars of that era. I had trouble with my school about this, but my mother, who liked it, told them to mind their own business.)

That summer in France I was still a virgin, and innocent of any physical contact with any other person. My nightly fantasies and dreams were not so innocent! And they were soon to have more to work on than just the pictures of athletes I clipped out of magazines.

The rocky outcrop revealed itself as covered with a shale of loose rocks split off by sun and frost, and I clambered to the top. The other side was a small pool of shade that was attractive on this baking hot day. I clambered down, and saw that there was a cave opening, part-blocked with stones and with a fringe of bushes hanging over it. I was not tempted to enter (snakes and scorpions!). A few yards further on, in the sun again, was a huge flat stone that had been placed on top of the wall. I marvelled at the force that would have been needed, the wedges, levers and human sweat to raise this great slab.

Standing on that grey platform I had a wonderful view across the valley. The river at the bottom was nearly dry in this hot season, but the shrubs along its banks had found  enough water to form a green ribbon through the browns and greys of less fortunate vegetation and the Walls that snaked across the hillsides.  I felt my cock getting hard. I had not had a chance to jerk off for several days now, sharing a tent with a guy I scarcely knew, and really needed relief. There was no-one about, so I undid my belt and let my shorts and t-shirt fall to my ankles, I kicked them aside and took my cock in my hand. It felt good, naked, rubbing my cock as the sun baked my shoulders and arse. I nearly came, but stopped for a moment to prolong the pleasure. My cock twitched as if in protest and clear pre-cum dripped down it, but the crisis passed, and I was able to start rubbing again. With my spare hand I stroked my buttocks, feeling them warm in the strength of the sun. I closed my eyes and thought of Jean-Paul, whose naked cock I had seen last night: I tried to imagine what it would look like erect.

He must have moved very silently because when I opened my eyes there was a young man standing beside me. He was pulling at the belt on his shorts: like me he had taken off his sweat-shirt and stuffed it into a pocket. In a panic I turned my back to him and bent to gather up my clothes.

'No! don't stop. I'll join you.' The accent was American.

He was naked now, and his cock was even more exciting than Jean-Paul's had been. It was bigger, of course, standing proud from a mass of honey-blonde curls. He was tanned, except for a triangle of white that showed the exact dimensions of his swimming trunks. He stood close beside me and was wanking his own cock. I was still close to coming and had to rub mine slowly and gently, while his hand flew up and down his shaft.

'Let me do that for you, and you do mine. It's nicer like that.'

My hand was displaced by his, and I reached and grasped his cock. This was my fantasy each night, and often my actual dream, to hold another cock. I knew I would not last out much longer, especially as his touch was both sensuous and vigorous. I longed to touch his arse, to caress those so-white cheeks which looked as smooth and hard as mine, but I did not dare, so I jerked him as fast as I could as I felt my own orgasm rise, the feeling so powerful as to be almost painful in my arse and balls. I came, and my boyish spunk arked through the air to spatter on the hot rock at our feet. Astoundingly there was a second and a third spurt: I had never had more than one before. As he slowly massaged my cock, hand slipping easily through the last oozings of my cum, so he came, his spunk flying through the air and landing where mine was already drying.

'I'm Nat.'

'Pandit.'

I giggled as we shook hands, both sticky from the other's cum. I wiped my hands and my cock on the rag of my sweatshirt. It was already rather dirty, and I really would have to wash it in the river now!

'Let's sit in the shade. I've got some drink in my rucksack there.'

The wine in a plastic beaker was sharp, and had a metallic tang, but was welcome. I had been eating wild grapes along the wall, but they do not really slake thirst. I drank it down in one. He filled it again for himself, and took much longer. 

'That was nice, Pandit. I'm sorry I surprised you.'

'I'm glad you did, Nat.'

'I think we are not the first to have stood on that rock and sprayed our cum onto the ground.'

'?' I looked enquiringly.

'I'm an archaeologist and I think this was a sacred place to the men who built these walls. This cave would be an entrance to the underworld, the home of the earth mother, and that great shelf we were standing on was an altar. You know the story of Onan?'

'No.'

'It's in The Bible and dates to about the time these walls were started. Onan was the son of Judah, and God killed him for "spilling his seed on the ground". There are all sorts of explanations the scholars dream up, but I believe he was making an offering of his cum to the Earth Mother to ensure the fertility of the soil as men had done for thousands of years, and that the priests of the new male God could not tolerate that and had God kill him in the story. So contemporaries of Onan may well have stood where we were, and like us jerked off.'

'They are that old? The walls I mean.'

'Where I'm digging at present a bronze age stone house used one of them as the back wall of the building, so that wall certainly is bronze age or older, three or four thousand years. We haven't had the carbon dating results yet. I came along here today to see if there were any other examples that would help us date them. I think we'll need to excavate inside this cave. You like another drink? There's about half a glass left.'

I had been looking at him as his enthusiasm for his work lit up and animated his features. He was slightly built, not much taller than me, but muscular and wiry.If he had been a boxer he would have been a bantam-weight, but well-built really. Later I found out that in America he had been a "classical wrestler" and represented his university,UCLA. He had his hair, blonde like mine, in the fashionable pony-tail, and his tanned chest had just a few golden hairs. I found myself wishing we had not pulled up our shorts to sit down.

'Tell me about yourself, Pandit. What's an English boy doing here?'

'I'm on an exchange visit. I'm supposed to be in Paris with Jean-Paul's family, but they are coming down here next week, and we suggested we could camp down here until they came and opened the house up. Jean-Paul's family used to live here before they went to Paris and they still have the house, in the village square.'

'Camping? No hot water then?'

'We swim in the river. Does it show?'

'You really do need some soap and hot water, young man. And apart from the smell, you'll get athlete's foot ... it's nasty in the crotch and difficult to get rid of.'

'Ugh!'

'I've rented a house in the square too for my dig season. The people I'm working with like camping, but I appreciate my comfort too much for that. Plenty of hot water there. come back and have a shower.'

                                          ....................................................................

The house was tall-ceilinged and must have been rather grand in the past, but the paint was peeling and it was sparsely furnished. You could see he mostly used the kitchen, where a large farm-house type table was covered with books and papers, drawings and plans, with just one corner cleared for some dirty cups and dishes left over from breakfast.

'I Only use the kitchen and bedroom, and the bathroom of course. Waste really! It's through here.'

Through the bathroom window I could see a courtyard with a grapevine over a stone columned shelter and stone statues. The table was coverered with empty bottles and glasses, a couple of the bottles covered in old candle wax. Nat saw my gaze.

'Left over from a party last weekend. I should have cleared them up. I like my shower very hot. I hope you do?'

He was naked again, and this time I noticed how sexy his legs looked, with their fine golden hairs. His cock was still soft but I thought his bum looked lovely, so slim and white in contrast with his tanned torso. I kicked my sandals off and was naked too. I could feel my cock getting hard again as I looked at him and did not feel any embarrassment about it at all now. I enjoyed seing his eyes narrow as he looked at my cock.

At first the water was almost too hot to bear, but I soon got used to it. There were two bars of soap and I worked hard at getting the sweat and grime off ... and the stink too I hoped! I would have liked to have soaped him down as an excuse to feel him all over, but was suddenly a bit shy of making the first approach. I was only a boy, of course, and this was all very new to me.

'Close your eyes and I'll wash your hair for you: this shampoo can sting if you let it get in the eyes.'

He turned the water off, and I felt his hands massaging my scalp. I touched my cock to confirm it really was hard now. 

'Keep them closed!'

I felt his arms around me, and my cock rubbed against his, which I realised was ready for action again. Then I was astonished to feel his lips on mine as he kissed me with an almost open mouth. I tensed in my surprise, but as his tongue slipped into my mouth I melted and gave myself to him, holding him tight to myself. I think in that moment I really loved him, and we kissed with all the passion of a bridegroom and his virgin bride. The water was on again, and I felt his hands through my hair. He turned the water off and said 'You can open them now.'

My eyes went straight to his cock. 'You're Jewish, Nat?'

'What? Oh, my cock. I see. Yes, my father had me circumcised. But I don't practise the religion any more.'

'I think it looks smashing! I really like it.'

'I'm glad about that, Pandit.' 

'Would you like me to wash your hair now?'

'No thanks; I did it this morning. But you can soap my back.'

In an ecstasy of excitement I soaped him down, feeling my heart beating and a tightness in my chest. Untouched, my cock was twitching. His tanned back was without blemish, so smooth and broad at the shoulders, and so slim at the hips. I massaged the white of his buttocks, and dared to slide my soapy hand between them. I heard him moan in pleasure as I touched his anus.He reached behind him and felt for my cock. I still stroked and caressed his arse and back, and then round the front to cradle his balls and soap his cock. His hand behind him, he was grasping my cock quite tight now, and I gripped his. I felt him rub my knob between his arse-cheeks. He leaned back on me, and suddenly I felt my knob and then my shaft gripped by something that was not his fingers. I was up him: he had slipped my cock into his arse as easily as a finger into a ring.

'Oh yes, Pandit. Oh yes!'

Untaught, instinct took over and I was moving my cock in and out of him as he leaned back on me, bent slightly forward so I could slide my full (though not very long!) length into him. I had both arms around him and fondled his balls and stroked his cock. I would have kissed his smooth back, but it was still soapy.

'As hard as you want, Pandit. As fast as you can. Jeez! Oh yes, like that.'

I was just about aware of his hand flying up and down his cock, displacing my own fingers, as I shagged him. I found I was slapping his buttock with one open palm in rhythm with my thrusts, while I ran the other one up and down his back. I noticed his arse contracted on my cock every time I used a light finger nail to scrtach the small of his back, and that increased my pleasure and excitement. He was groaning and telling me how good I was. I felt my cum welling up ready, and then it exploded into him. I reached round and discovered he had come too and that his cock was nice and slippery, not with soap!

My cock slipped out and the water was on again. We kissed, more gently now as the water streamed down over us.

He reached up and turned the tap. It went from scalding hot to ice-cold. He held me there, wriggling to escape the painful flow, while he counted to ten. Then we both laughed as he turned the shower off.

We later sat outside, naked, amid the debris of his party, drinking a glass of the rough local wine.

'You can stay here if you like. My bed's certainly more comfortable than a tent, and we can have some more fun if you want.'

'I'd like that, Nat. But Jean-Paul would think I've had an accident and call out the gendarmerie or something. Any way, it's not fair to leave him alone down by the river all night. No. I'd better be going back. That was all lovely though.'

'Pity! But OK. Look, why not come over to the dig site tomorrow morning. It's a mile up the Montalin road, just before the bridge. You'll see some tents and a couple of cars on the left. The dig is on the hillside above that. I'll show you round it. Bring your friend if you want.'

I remember asking him to kiss me goodbye. I was already an outrageous flirt, as I have been all my life!

                                      .............................................................

I picked up a tin of sausages and a couple of tins of beans in the village, and added some more bottled water and a couple of loaves. As it happened, Jean-Paul was not at the campsite, and it was nearly evening before he wandered in. He must have been reading all day as the book mark in his "War And Peace" had moved on a good inch. 

'Hi Jean-Paul. You smelled the coffee?' I had filled our cafetiere from the kettle on our little camping gas stove.

'Is there some?' 

I poured him a mug, and thought he looked quite sexy in his tight little swimming trunks. I guess the events of the day had sensitised me and given me the appetite for more because I felt my cock stiffening. It would have been obvious to Jean-Paul as I had changed into my own trunks, the sky-blue satin ones that were even tighter and smaller than his, even without a hard-on. I was sure I could see his eyes flicker down to my crotch and his gaze rested there for a moment. I could see the beginnings of a bulge in his too. I decide to try something later!

But for the moment we chatted and I told him about the American archaeologist I had met while we cooked up and ate the beans and sausages. We decided to go and look at his dig in the morning. By the time we had finished washing our dishes in the river it was dusk and the mosquitos were beginning to rise.

'I'm going into the tent before I get bitten.'

'Me too.'

We lay side by side in the gloom on top of our sleeping bags as it was still very warm, the noise of cicadas strumming a pleasant background to our thoughts. I slipped my trunks down and stuffed them in my bag. I hoped Jean-Paul would do the same. He did not! He was not making it easy for me, and I lay naked, but as I looked at his  his slender, very boyish body out of the side of my eye and thought about how it would feel to my touch my cock stiffened yet again.

'I went back to Nat's place in the town square and had a lovely hot shower with him.'

'With him. Like both of you?'

I turned over on my side and looked him in the eye.

'Yes. It was fun. And I'll tell you what happened if you want.'

'Yes.'

'He made me stick my ...' I realised I did not know the French word for cock or arse: for some reason Mr Samways had not included them in the wordlists he made us learn at school! 'He made me stick this,' and I reached for Jean-Paul's hand and placed it on my cock, 'Into this.' And I reached over and poked my finger between his legs, finding his arsehole under the white satin.

'He let you put your cock up his bottom? Jesus!'

Jean-Paul had removed his hand, but it had lingered on my erect cock for long enough to encourage me. I tried out the new words. 'Yes he had me stick my cock up his bottom.' I found I did not know the word for "cum" either, so I had to improvise. 'And I finished deep inside him and he finished too.'

'He came and you came? Jesus!' 

I tried out the new words. 'Yes. You'd think it would hurt, but he enjoyed it so much he came and it went all over the shower floor. That was the second time I'd seen him come.'

'Second?'

'Yes. In the afternoon we did this to each other.' I reached over and rubbed Jean-Paul's cock, feeling it hard under his trunks. 'We did this till we both came. I don't know what the word is in French.'

'Wank, jerk, toss.' He gave me three French equivalents. 'Shall we ...?'

That was all I needed, and my hand was down inside his trunks and grasping his hard little tool. 'Take these off!' He raised his arse and I pulled them down so he could kick them away. I felt his hand on my cock in the gloom and moved so our bodies were touching. I wished I could see his cock clearer, but it was just a shape in the semi-darkness and that would be a pleasure for the next morning. I had seen it soft the day before, and longed to see it hard. I knew he was not "cut". It felt smaller than mine and much, much smaller than Nat, and my hand went round it easily. I pulled the foreskin down and rubbed my palm up and down, as he did the same to mine.

'I going to come!' I pulled him closer to me and really hugged him. It was difficult to move our hands like this, but it felt good, naked flesh to naked flesh. we were bucking about, wriggling at the hips to rub our cocks together. I would have liked to kiss him, but decided to save that for a later occasion. I felt my spunk rising.

'Me too.' I held him even tighter, and kissed him, without thinking this time. His tongue was in my mouth immediately, and I wondered if it had been another boy who had taught him that, or an uncle or teacher perhaps. I knew he was coming, and my orgasm came as well. He kissed me even harder, and I felt our cum mixing and mingling between us.

We lay hugging each other for perhaps a couple of minutes.

'That was good.'

'Me too. I think I'm going to enjoy this holiday!'

I slept well that night ...

                                      .....................................................................

Another bright, clear morning, and we found the dig site easily. Apart from Nat, there was a University Professor, Doctor Duhammel, and four of his students, three girls and a guy. They lived in tents up at the site, Two of the girls in one tent (yes it is safe to assume they were lesbians), the Prof in another and Andre and Marie in the third. He was good looking, but obviously straight and infatuated by Marie. She was a petite Vietnamese girl, and I thought that if no male was available I could perhaps manage a girl like that, small and with tiny hard breasts. I never had to put that to the test as all my life I have found plenty of male company!

We helped out with the labouring, moving rocks away to a spoil heap, and when it got too hot sieving earth to find tiny fish bones and other indications of bronze age life, then washing it to separate out any charcoal, which floated to the top. This was dried in the sun and put in little bags, each labeled, for the laboratory to work on later. It helped with the dating, we were told, and any carbonised seeds gave a good indication of diet and farming methods. Towards the end of the working day Nat gave each of us a little trowel and our first lesson in how to excavate. I could see Jean-Paul was as taken with Nat as I had been, and his eyes kept wandering off towards Nat's bare torso and the bulge in his over-tight cut-down jeans shorts. Mine did too!

We all stopped work at five o'clock on the dot and the Prof and his students went off to the river, near the tents, to wash and prepare their barbecue. 

'Back to my place for a shower?'

Jean-Paul answered quickly for both of us, and I caught Nat's amused smile at the boy's eagerness.

It was much as the day before, but with three of us naked in the shower together it was even more cosily crowded. I certainly had that opportunity to study Jean-Paul's cock, and saw it was indeed smaller than mine, white and slender with a pretty red knob when the foreskin was retracted, as he did when he washed. I washed Jean-Paul's back and arse for him, and found the silky feel of his skin under my soapy palms so sexy that my cock soon stood to attention. He wriggled his arse for me as I slid my fingers over his anus and round to cradle his balls. As I suspected the night before he had no hair at all on his balls yet, and only the lightest fringe of dark black fuzz at the base of his cock. He was not a physically strong boy: that was obvious from the long slim legs and thin-ish arms. But he had that boyish allure I have never been able to resist all my life, though I have, to be honest, not had many boys to play with since I became an adult myself. Lots of men though!  Nat was enjoying him as well, and while I soaped his bum Nat's hands were using the soap as an excuse to caress his cock and balls.

We were all three hot, hard, pulsing cocks.

Nat put an arm round my shoulder, and the other round Jean-Paul and pulled us into a three-way embrace. I could feel two cocks pressing into my body, and as the almost painfully hot water stung our backs we kissed. Jean-Paul and Nat, me and Nat, Nat and Jean-Paul.

'Who is going to fuck me?' Nat had to almost shout over the sound of the water.

'Me!' Jean-Paul and I answered together.

He laughed. 'I think it's Jean-Paul's turn, but there's something nice for you, too, Pandit. Lean back against the wall.

My cock stood out in front of me and I dare not touch it for fear of coming and spoiling the sex for myself. Nat bent at the waist and held me by the hips. Then he was nuzzling my cock and balls: I could feel the stubble of his chin on my soft-skinned thighs. His arse was just right for Jean-Paul who was rubbing his cock into Nat's crease using the remnants of the soap we had both put there.

'Now, Jean-Paul. shove it in as hard as you like!' 

My cock entered his mouth at the very moment Jean-Paul's penetrated his arse. I had a perfect view of their two bodies, Nat's broad and muscular back, and the slender torso of Jean-Paul. I felt almost detatched from the action as his mouth slipped over my cock, in and out, and his tongue fluttered down the front of my shaft. I nearly came, but Nat must have sensed that, or perhaps tasted more precum, and he abandoned my cock to lick and kiss my balls. I felt the tip of his tongue tickling them, and then his lips close as he took one completely into his mouth.

Jean-Paul was showing considerably more athleticism in his fucking than I had seen in any other activity. I giggled as it occurred to me that French guys were really only good at one sport. I could hear the slap of his thighs against Nat's buttocks, and a strange squelching sound as the cock went in and out. The speed was increasing!

'I'm going to come!'

This was the signal for Nat to suck my cock again, this time bobbing up and down on it, sucking but using his lips to excite it. I was close. A hand left my hip where he had been clutching me to support himself, and joined his mouth in jerking me. The last few thrusts from Jean-Paul were fierce enough to move Nat forward onto my body and I knew my tent-mate was coming. I held Nat's head between my palms and shot my spunk into his mouth with one great spurt, another and yet another. He swallowed, I think, and the frantic movement subsided, Jean-Paul motionless, his cock still in that willing arse, and my cock resting in a willing mouth.

Later we helped him prepare some vegetables and watched watched Nat cook a risotto in the kitchen. We were all naked, and we two boys kept getting a hard-on again. Nat had not come in the shower ... 'Later, in bed!' ... and was often hard too. the wine was a better one. ...'I think we should mark this occasion with a couple of real good bottles.' ...

So, after eating out on the patio, it was two fairly drunk young boys and a tipsy man who went to lay on Nat's huge bed.

                                                         ..............................................

Nat lay flat on his back, motionless, while we two lads enjoyed his body. We took it in turns to kiss his lips, while our hands caressed him. I was stroking his chest and tweaking his nipples: I loved the fine golden hair around them. Jean-Paul was more interested in his belly and balls, and of course his cock which was by now very erect and manly. I kept forcing my friends mouth away from Nat's lips, only for him to re-establish ownership there. This friendly competition was soon switched to his cock and he had the rare pleasure of two pretty, young boys struggling to suck him one after the other. Despite the wine Nat was as hard as I had ever seen him and clear precum was welling up from the eye of his knob. I licked at it and liked the taste and feel. I slid his knob between my lips and heard him groan with pleasure. The shaft slid down deep into my mouth as I lowered my head. I felt Nat stroking my blonde pony-tail, and then I gagged as his knob touched the back of my throat.

Jean-Paul laughed. 'You're no good at it! I'll show you!'

My young friend pulled my head away and his lips replaced mine. Again that moan of pleasure from the totally passive object of our new-learned lusts. I was able to lick Nat's balls, lightly feeling his golden hairs with the tip of my tongue as I watched Jean-Paul's head bob up and down as he sucked. He was right! He was better at it, and was managing to get the whole length of the shaft into his mouth and throat each time his head bobbed down. Nat was still stroking my hair, and I could see his hand ruffling through Jean-Paul's locks. 

I wanted some more, and I wanted to show I too could take the whole length. I pulled Jean-Paul off, and as I licked the precum again from that knob, I saw him taking over the chore of kissing and licking round the balls and that nice hard bit between the sack and the arsehole. I slid his shaft into my mouth again, and found that by keeping it towards the top of my mouth, my palate, I could take it all without gagging. I made sure I fluttered my tongue down the front of the shaft, especially just below the head where I knew mine was the most sensitive, and was rewarded with a moan each time I did that. I guessed he was close to coming as the taste of cum was stronger in my mouth now, and decided I would swallow all his juices when he shot into my mouth.

But suddenly he was no longer passive! 

The next thing I knew was that I was on my belly, my arsecheeks were being parted by powerful hands, I felt the harshness of his stubble against my soft skin, and then the delightful tickle of his tongue against my arsehole. I giggled, but raised my hips slightly from the bed so he could get further between my buttocks with his licking, probing tongue. A tiny pause. 

'Nice?'

'Oh yes. Tickles, but lovely. Don't stop.'

The tongue again, but this time actually penetrating a half inch or so into my anus. That was even nicer, and I told him so.

Jean-Paul had managed to get a hand under Nat, who was laying on his belly, and could grasp that much-desired cock, but not really wank it. He lay with his cheek resting on Nat's bottom, his hands stroking Nat's thighs.

The tongue was rimming round and round my arsehole, and with every second or third circle plunging into me. I loved it, and protested when it stopped.

'That little bottle on the table there. Pass it to me Jean-Paul, please.'

I could feel the oil run down the crease of my arse as Nat tipped a few drops out, before he re-corked it and left it on the pillow. It was not his tongue now but his finger that entered me, as far I guessed as the first knuckle. This was all very strange to me, but it did not hurt and was obviously giving Nat pleasure so I went along with it.  

Over my shoulder I saw Jean-Paul uncork the bottle and spill some over Nat's bottom. I assumed he was going to take advantage of Nat's position on his belly to fuck him again, but I was wrong as he merely imitated Nat with me and slipped an oily idex finger into Nat's bum. Now there was a real finger-fucking of puctured anuses. And sometimes Nat seemed to find a spot where I was sensitive, and a sort of shock went from the very end of my rectum right into my cock. I understood why men liked being fucked in the arse: sometimes it could be good, very good.

'Just there, Nat. That's the place. No! Not there.  Yes, That's it.'

'It's called your prostate, laddy. Here, Jean-Paul, put those fingers up your friend a minute and he'll tell you where it's good for him. It's worth knowing!'

So Jean-Paul finger fucked me, apparently with two fingers he said, and I was able to tell him where it was good if he pressed.

'I've got it now, Nat. There's a sort of lump at the front, and if I stroke that he likes it.'

While this experimentation and education was going on, Nat had been oiling his cock.

'I think you're ready now. It can hurt a bit at first, but you'll soon love it.'

Those strong palms parted my arsecheeks again, but this time it was the knob of his cock that was pressing against my secret place. It felt good there, but I was frightened of the pain I was sure would accompany penetration. And yet I was excited. I knew I was gay, and I knew this was what gay boys gave to their lovers. And I believed Nat when he said it would finally be good: I had seen the proof twice in his shower! So although my heart beat in a mixture of fear and excitement I raised my hips slightly for him to open my arse cheeks a bit more.

It hurt! The knob penetrated and there was a sudden stretching pain.

'No, please, Nat. No. Shit! It fucking hurts! No.'

'It'll pass. Trust me.' He took no notice of my protests and held me down in place, a hand on my buttock and another in the small of my back. With a steady, slow push he filled me with his cock and I knew he was completely in me when I felt his thighs touch my arse, and felt the weight of him on me there. The sharp pain had reduced to a sort of dull ache, and when he pulled his cock out as far as the knob the feeling was a bit like having a good shit. And that is rather nice. But the ache returned when he slowly forced it up again.

You never forget your first, they say, and I can remember hoping he would be quick because this was doing nothing for me. Gradually, as he speeded up, the ache disappeared, and I remember thinking I would let him have me again because I loved him, but that really it was a bit boring compared with sucking him off.

And then, of course, it changed again. His cock was finding the place he had been massaging with his fingers. The ache had become a mix of a feeling of fullness, and the pleasure of that pressure deep inside me. I told him he could fuck me harder, and that was what I now genuinely wanted. I did not mind how long he would take: I was enjoying this. I had a sudden feeling of pride as I realised I could take a cock up my arse: I really was gay, and proud! He fucked me harder and faster, caressing my buttocks and back, and sometimes playfully slapping me. My cock was hard again, and I thought I might come into the bedclothes, untouched by my hands. I was lifting my hips to meet each down-thrust, and with each his thighs slapped harder against me. I realised he was coming as he panted and muttered under his breath, and then I felt for the first time the warmth and slipperiness of his cock in me as he came. The thrusts weakened and slowed as his orgasm died, and he rolled me over on my side, still up me, kissing the back of my neck.

'That was lovely, Pandit. And you were so brave!'

'Didn't have to be brave after the first few minutes. It was great.'

'I'm so pleased!' 

Jean-Paul had come all over Nat's back as he was shagging me, wanking over him as he watched us fuck. He went and got a towel and wiped the spunk off. I had not come, (Probably because of the wine I had drunk earlier), and was completely exhausted (the wine again I guess). I just wanted to sleep, and I dropped off immediately, laying there his arms around me and his cock still in my arse.

                                                 ..............................................................

Sunday morning Jean-Paul's parents arrived, and when they had opened the house and unpacked they drove down to the river ... to break up our idyll. Jean-Paul tried to suggest we stayed camped out there, but Madame Delours insisted. 'No. stay in the house with us. We can have a few weeks en famille for a change. It will be nicer for all of us.' Jean-Paul caught his father's eye, imploring him to intervene, but Monsieur Delours just shrugged his shoulders in a Gallic gesture and turned away.

Worse was to happen at the house. As we unloaded the camping gear etcetera, Madame again. 'Pandit, you are having the other large bedroom. It's a lovely room facing the square, with the sun in the mornings. Jean-Paul, you will have to have one of the small rooms on the top floor. Any one you like!'

'But, Maman, can't we share the big room. It would be much more fun.'

'I don't know. There's only one bed.'

'But, Maman, it's huge. Please.'

'Yes, Madame Delours, I'd like to share, and we've been right beside each other in that tent for days. Anyway, I'm supposed to be learning French, and I won't in separate rooms.'

This time Monsieur did intervene. 'Makes sense, Sylvie. Let them if they want.'

She still looked doubtful, but agreed. I reckoned that Monsieur Delours was sexually less savvy than his wife, who guessed what two teenaged boys would get up to if allowed to sleep in the same bed. However, I was wrong: he knew too, and did not disapprove!  

The room was huge and sunny, and the bed a grand four-poster, with no bed-curtains in this warm summer. We lay on it together and giggled.

'That was a near one. Your maman nearly spoiled our fun.'

'Good old Papa!' Jean-Paul had hold of my cock. 'Let's....'

'Tonight. She might come in!'

And we were lucky in that as she did indeed come in to check everything was ok. 

I decided I would have Jean-Paul's arse that very night, and stole some olive oil which I put in a coke bottle by the bed ready. Roll on bedtime!

                                                            .....................................

Dinner en famille would have been fun if I had not been on edge all evening thinking about how I would persuade Jean-Paul to let me bugger him, running approaches and conversations through my mind to try them out. Monsieur Delours got fairly drunk (he always did!).

Finally we boys were allowed to go to bed leaving his parents at the table. 

I shut the door and slid the bolt. In his arms I whispered 'Alone at last...', which we both found funny and giggled as we hugged each other. I could feel his cock hard against me as we embraced. We kissed for a moment and then he broke away to start undressing. We were naked in seconds, and I joined him on the bed, kissing again, but groping for each other's cocks now. 

'Let me kiss your back.' 

I turned him on his belly and licked his back from his waist right up the centre to his neck and then down again. He shivered as I did it. His skin was that olive, velvet complexion you find in Mediterranean boys, and I brushed it with my cheek to feel how soft and smooth it was. I lay beside him, one leg over his bottom and whispered in his ear as I stroked him, and then kissed his neck. There were fine, dark hairs on his neck, below the real hair-line. Down again now, and kissing the cheeks of his buttocks, lighter tanned than his back and even smoother and softer. I licked them, slightly salty from the afternoon sun. I parted the cheeks, a palm on each, and feasted my eyes on the prettiest little arse you ever saw, pinkish brown and puckered with tiny creases, like a delicate flower. I licked the length of his crease up and down again, my tongue lingering a second on his anus. The inside of his thighs, there where the skin is most silky and the flesh most tender felt warm against my cheek. I stopped and looked again at his arsehole, fixing it in my memory so that as I write this I can still see him in my mind's eye. Back again with my tongue, this time rimming him with a circular motion of my pointed tongue. He moaned, and his hips raised to meet me. I penetrated him with the tip of my tongue, and heard him groan again as I felt his anus contract on its invader.

'Nice?'

'Don't stop!' He wriggled his arse provocatively. Pre-cum was dripping from my cock, eager for this virgin boy. 

I gave him another few minutes of sensuous rimming and then reached for and uncorked my olive oil bottle. His arse was still firm closed as I dripped a few drops of oil into his crease. I put the bottle back and spread the oil with my index finger, pressing hard on the virgin anus. He groaned, and I slipped my finger in as far as the first joint. There was no protest, so I started to gently finger fuck him, watching my gleaming index finger slide in and out. I moved so I was laying beside him, my mouth by his ear. He giggled as I slipped the tip of my pointed tongue into his ear and rimmed him there as well.

'Tickles.'

'You must tell me when I find the exactly right place, like I told you when you fingered me.'

'I think it's towards the front.'

I found his prostate and pressed it with the end of my finger.'

'Oooh! That's right!'

So we lay there, him inert, me licking and kissing his neck, while I massaged his prostate, opening him up for what I intended to be the main event of the evening. Soon I had two, and then three fingers in him, and had completely relaxed the sphincter muscles.

'I want to fuck you, Jean-Paul.'

'I'm scared it will hurt...'

'It does, but not for long. And I've already got most of my hand up you, and that's all right, isn't it?'

'It's nice.'

'Believe me, and if not me remember how Nat loves it. Anyway, if you want to be gay you'll need to learn how to be fucked, and to enjoy it...'

I took his silence for consent, and spilled some more oil into his crack, and soaked my cock in it too. Two hands under his belly I pulled him up so he was kneeling in front of me. I pulled a pillow and squeezed it under him. I parted his buttocks, gleaming now in the light of the bedside light, and placed my knob against that pretty rose.

'Stop if I say!'

I pushed, and my knob entered him. I felt his anus contract tight around my shaft.

'No! Please!'

'Shush! People will hear!'

With a long, slow thrust I entered him fully till my thighs rested on his buttocks. His face was buried in a pillow, and I could hear him sobbing. So I started to fuck him, slowly, gently, but powerfully. Gradually the sobbing ceased, as did the sudden spasms in his anus, involuntary contractions. I speeded up. The sobbing was replaced by little moans, and his buttocks were moving back on me with each of my thrusts. I reached beneath him, and found he was hard. I wanked his cock with my oily hand in rhythm with my shagging. I was close to coming, but promised myself to control it until he came, and then let it rip. I could hear him muttering 'Yes, oh yes' and I jerked his cock as fast as I could. Soon I was rewarded by his orgasm, and I felt his warm cum on my fingers. With three or four mighty pushes I came too, and pumped my spunk into him.

We rolled over onto our sides, me still quite hard and still in him. We lay silent for several minutes. He turned to kiss me, and my cock slipped out.

'Ooooh! That was nice as it slid out! And you were right, Pandit, it was real good. I loved it in the end.'

'I'd rather fuck you than even Nat, Jean-Paul. That was great.'

We slept well that night! And in the morning, when we showered together, Jean-Paul had me fuck him again.

                                       .............................................

We took Monsieur and Madame Delours to see the archaeological site as soon as we had finished breakfast. Nat was even more charming than ever, and went out of his way to be nice to them. The result was an invitation to dine with us all at the Mas Olivier, and upmarket restaurant between the river and the village.

It was a good day for archaeology as Monsieur Delours took us all in his car to see some Roman remains, especially a great aqueduct. So there was no chance for Jean-Paul or myself to exercise our eager little cocks!

The dinner was fun, with the adults letting us join in their conversation as equals. Monsieur Delours got a bit drunk (as usual), and Nat was well into his second bottle as well. Finally Madame Delours took us away with her, leaving the two men to talk and drink over the remaining wine. Jean-Paul had me fuck him, face-to-face this time, and then suck him off. He was making much more cum now ... exercise I guess! 

In the morning, we were about to fuck again, his turn to fuck me when Madame came in. Lucky she wasn't five minutes later!

'Your Papa didn't come home last night. Be an angel and see if he's with Mr Silverstein and OK. I expect he is.'

The street door was still ajar, and we pushed it open. Up now to the bedroom: we knew the way well. On the bed an amazing sight. Nat, naked, was laying on his belly. Monsieur Delours, naked too, was laying on his back. Both were asleep, and Nat was snoring. we could see what they had been at: the bottle of oil was laying on the pillow between them, Nat's arse was shiny with oil, and so was Papa's cock. I was kicking off my sandals and undoing my belt. Jean-Paul just stood, mouth-open, astounded.

I winked at Jean-Paul and made the "fucking" sign, index finger through a circle of thumb and forefinger. Monsieur Delours looked very sexy to this young boy, with his chest and belly a mat of thick black hair, and a body toned and muscular, if a bit stocky. His cock was half-hard, or if it was not it must have been very big I thought. I crept over to the bed, naked myself now, and bent over him. Gently onto the bed not to wake him, and then my mouth round his knob. he stirred but did not wake. I sucked on it and felt it swell in my mouth. I love that feeling, when a limp cock gets hard between my lips. He was fully hard now, and I started to bob up and down on it. He half sat up in bed.

'Oh! My God!' But I took his full length in my mouth and let my tongue flutter against the front where it is most sensitive. He fell back onto the bed, whether because of his hangover or because of the pleasure I was giving him, I don't know. Probably both. Anyway he lay back with his eyes shut.

Beside me Jean-Paul had undressed too, and was taking advantage of the ready-oiled and naked arse to fuck Nat. 

It was very new for me to have a really hairy man to play with, and while sucking and licking his cock and balls I was fascinated by his hairy belly and legs and combed my fingers through the mat of black hair. I found his nipples lurking in the forest and tweaked them both at the same time between thumb and forefinger, producing a deep-throated groan of pleasure, and I swear I could taste more precum than before I fondled his tits. I imagine he was keeping his eyes shut so as not to see who was sucking him, an under-aged boy, and one who had been entrusted by his mother to the care of the man whose cock was enjoying the boy's caresses and kisses.

His cock was not long, but was very broad, broad enough in fact to make it difficult for me to keep it in my mouth, much as I wanted to. I felt as if my jaw would be dislocated!  The bottle of oil they had left on the pillow during their nighttime frolics gave me the idea. I uncorked it, and tipped a few drops onto that raging red cock-head. It gleamed in the early morning sun as I ran my hand up and down it, sliding in the olive oil. I nudged Jean-Paul beside me, still shagging Nat's arse. Nat himself seemed to be still asleep, or perhaps lazily enjoying being fucked in the arse, laying with his face buried in a pillow. Jean-Paul looked over and caught my eye. I wedged his father's cock with the side of my hand so it stood vertical, gleming, hot, ready. I smiled at Jean-Paul and with an obscene gesture silently suggested he impale himself on his father's cock, adding incest to sodomy.

He thought for a moment, smiled, and Nat moaned a protest as that little cock was removed from his arse. I held Monsieur's cock vertical while Jean-Paul placed himself and sank slowly down on it. Just before it was fully in I removed my hand. Monsieur Delours must have thought it was me being fucked by him as Jean-Paul began to ride him, nimbly and athletically. Nat joined me in watching the slender boy bouncing up and down on the hairy bear beneath him, his little white balls hairless and tight in their sack. Then Monsieur opened his eyes. Shock! Horror!

'Oh my God! No You mustn't Oh my God!' He tried to sit up, but Jean-Paul from his position riding that cock found it easy to push him back, two hands on the hairy chest. In fact if anything he increased the speed of his fucking, and his father sank back compliant, and I imagine in an ecstasy of pleasure.  

I took over Jean-Paul's duty with Nat, though face-to-face this time, with his legs over my shoulder. The sight and the very idea of father shagging son was very exciting, and I knew I would not be able to hold out for long. Luckily Nat was the same, and I could see him looking at the show beside us as he came. spurting pools of white cum over his chest and belly, which was the signal for me to cum to. Within seconds we could hear the tell-tale groans and panting of Monsieur Delours coming inside his son's arse.

Immediately he had come, he opened his eyes. 'My God! What have I done?'

Nat answered him, with some contempt. 'What you've done, Andre, is fuck a very pretty teenage boy in the arse, which you and he both enjoyed. So just bless your luck, and stop complaining. And since he hasn't yet come himself, the least you could do is suck him off. Such a lovely little cock he's got too!'

Jean-Paul was smiling that lovely smile he could produce when he was not being self-conscious. He lifted himself from the cock, and shifted up his father's body so his tanned thighs were over that black mat of hair, his cock an inch from his father's face. He moved a tiny bit more, and it touched his father's lips. He leaned a bit forward, and it was forcing its way in between them. His father capitulated, and grasped the boy by the hips, pulling him closer, and swallowing not only the knob but all four inches of the shaft.

'You'll love it, Andre, little boy cum to join mine that you swallowed last night. He loves it, Pandit. You can see it runs in the family.Look at him suck!' 

A struggle was going on betwen Jean-Paul and his father, Jean-Paul trying to move in and out, fucking his mouth, the father grasping his son's hips and trying to pull him into him so he could bury his face in that smooth belly, so that the little cock filled his mouth. Jean-Paul was winning, and again the father capitulated, laying back his head on a pillow and letting his boy fuck him in the mouth. His hands were not tranquil though, kneading and caressing that slender body: I could see he had wanted this for years, and now beyond all inhibitions, beyond all received morality the boy was truly his, arse and cock his. Jean Paul grasped his head in both hands and with a few last thrusts was coming... all was swallowed.

Later, Jean-Paul and I lay one each side of Monsieur, who was very silent: lots to think about, I guess. I stroked his hairy chest. Nat was making coffee for us.

'Tonight, Papa, come to our room. Pandit and I will fuck you if you want, and then you can fuck us in turn. Please. Promise?'   

He nodded.

'And we always come and see Nat after the day at the dig.... It's fun showering together. You'll love it...'

He nodded.

                                                       Fin for now






 


