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Bastille Day

By: oggbashan



Copyright Oggbashan June 2003

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. All conversations are shown in English but some are assumed to be a translation from French.

Mary and I were staying at an English friend's house in a small French seaside town close to Calais. We had been there before but never in July. The house was some way inland, about ten minutes' drive from the town down very small roads.

On July 14th we drove into the town early in the morning to buy our bread. We had forgotten that it was Bastille Day and how important that day is to the French. We parked our car at the side of the Town Hall and bought our bread at 8am. We didn't realise that the baker was closing in an hour. We went to a pavement café for croquettes and the first coffee of the day. As we sat there we we aware that the town was unusually active. People were rushing around which just isn't done. Normally everyone strolls around with time to stop and chat. Not today.

We finished our coffee and walked back to the car. A gendarme waved us away.

"The road is closed." he said.

"But our car ..." 

"It will have to stay where it is. The road re-opens at 5pm."

We argued, we pleaded, we mentioned at friends in high places (we had met the Mayor) and even hinted at bribery. None of it worked. He was implacable. The parades would start from this road and while our car and the others were acceptable where they were, they could NOT be moved.

Mary and I were nonplussed. We had left everything at the house. We had no food except the loaf of French bread. We had money but the car was empty. We had been warned about car thieves who would smash a window just for a coat or a pair of sunglasses. We were stuck in the town until 5pm.

The first priority was food. We hadn't had breakfast. We went back to the café and had croque monsieur with coffee. We asked the waiter what would happen during the day. There would be a number of processions, starting with a children's one at 10am. The churches, the schools, the old soldiers, everyone had a separate procession. The last one at 4pm would be the fancy dress parade. Everyone would be in that. Afterwards the partying started and would continue to midnight or later with free food and drink provided by the Chamber of Commerce, the Friends of Liberty and other groups. He insisted that we had to take part in the 4pm procession. Everyone would be in it. They even had the hospital's patients on trolleys and the occupants of the Old People's home. Death was the only acceptable excuse but he remembered that one year a funeral party had joined in. 

We resigned ourselves. If we were staying in France on Bastille Day we had to participate. But how? We had no fancy dress? Mary was wearing a button fronted summer dress, panties and sandals. I had shorts, a T-shirt and sandals. That was it. The shops had shut except a small convenience store. We rushed in. They had no clothing, not even a funny hat. We bought cheese and wine to go with the bread for lunch.

We watched the processions in the brilliant sunshine until about 1pm. We had eaten our bread and cheese and drunk the first bottle of our wine. It was cheap vin de table with a plastic cap. Not that it mattered. Wine was flowing like water everywhere. We were hot, sweaty, light-headed, so decided we needed a break from the festivities.

We walked to the seafront and then into the dunes beside the small river which we had forded in bare feet. The fine dry sand was constantly moving in the breeze. We found a hollow in the dunes that was sheltered from the wind. Even there the sand penetrated but it was bearable. Mary shed her dress, unbuttoned it and spread it out. We lay down and dozed.

I woke to find Mary's hands pulling my shorts down. She was pantie-less. She leant over me so I kissed each breast tenderly before licking my way down to her navel. I could feel her rising excitement. She moved up so that I could use my tongue between her legs. I kissed the inside of each thigh, brushing my lips across her muff as I moved from side to side.

After several repeats Mary dropped her full weight across my face. I had to respond with my tongue. I parted her lips and my tongue pushed into her warm moist cleft. Mary's arms and legs wrapped around my head pulling me close. I felt her shudder as the first of a series of orgasms pulsed through her. I tongued as hard and carefully as I could to keep her arousal at its peak. 

She rotated on my face, her hands reaching for my erection. She had barely touched it when I climaxed, rearing against her. My sticky wet emission spread over her hands and my stomach. My face was slick with hers. She slid down beside me. We held each other close but the heat was too much. Wherever we touched, we sweated. Where we sweated, grains of wind-blown sand stuck.

We tried to make love again but sand is a great abrasive. I understand that some Aborigine women use sand to deter a potential rapist. It works too well. Even though we both were willing, sand in the privates makes lovemaking impossible.

We tried sixty-nine but that just put sand in our mouths as well as everywhere else. We used the second bottle of wine to swill the sand out of our mouths before finishing it.

"Tony, why don't we go for a swim?" Mary asked, shaking sand off her thighs.

"Why not? We aren't getting anywhere on land."

We left our clothes where they lay. I emptied my shorts pocket. Mary passed me her lipstick from her dress's pocket. I put everything into my handkerchief and buried it under a tuft of grass. I smoothed the sand to cover what I had done. The wind-blown sand would help. Leaving money and car keys easily accessible was too much of a risk even in such a secluded place.

Cautiously we looked out of the hollow. There was no one in sight so hand in hand we raced for the wide sandy beach and the calm blue sea. It was surprisingly warm, perhaps because the tide was coming in over the sun-heated sand. 

We swam until Mary wrapped her legs around me. Standing chest deep in the sea we attempted a knee trembler but she kept floating off at the critical point. We moved inshore until we were waist deep. That was successful. Mary shuddered in the waves as she grasped me tighter and tighter with her thighs. I was finding it very difficult to keep up the tempo, to remain standing, and to restrain myself.

Mary realised my dilemma and pressed her breasts hard against me. That warm softness was too much for my self-control. As I came a wave knocked us over in a flurry of arms and legs. My ejaculation spent itself as long strings into the uncaring sea.

As we made our way across the narrowed beach to the dunes, I checked my watch. It was 3pm. The watch should be right. It was guaranteed to 30 metres of water, as was Mary's. Hers had the same time.

"What are we going to do for the fancy dress parade?" I asked. "We haven't got anything to wear."

As I spoke we reached the hollow in the dunes.

"You are so right," Mary replied, looking down. "We haven't got a thing to wear. Our clothes have gone."

They had. We knew it was the right hollow. We could see the empty wine bottle and our footprints leading out of it. In the hollow the sand had been brushed clear. There were no tracks, not ours, nor the thief's footprints. We could see which way the thief had gone because there was a cleared path through the muddle of tracks leading back to the river. We had no clue about the thief's identity.

I walked across to the tuft of grass. I felt with my fingers and to my relief found my handkerchief. I opened it. The lipstick, car keys and money were still there. I showed Mary.

"Great," she said. "Your handkerchief isn't large enough to cover me and it certainly won't cover both of us, will it? We had a problem before. We had no fancy dress. Now we have no clothes at all, on Bastille Day when the whole town will be out and about until the early hours."

A thought struck me.

"We don't celebrate Bastille Day in America, do we?"

"No. Perhaps they do in Canada or in New Orleans." Mary replied.

"But we do celebrate something on July 14th. What?"

It came to us at the same time.

"National Nude Day!" we chorused.

"OK, Mary. We are Americans. The French think that Americans are capable of anything, no matter how bizarre. We can celebrate National Nude Day and we have our fancy dress. Can we do it?"

"I'm willing if you are."

"Let's go."

We had to swim the river now that the tide was in. On the town bank I put the wine bottle in a glass recycling bin.

Mary and I held hands, looked at each other, and braced ourselves for our very public display. At least we were free of sand. The river had washed us clean.

"Hold it," said Mary "How will they know that it is National Nude Day?"

"We write it on our backs with your lipstick."

So we did. We wrote:

"Aux Etats-Unis c'est le fête nu."

We joined the 4pm parade. I had tied the handkerchief to my wrist. At first we had some very odd looks. Each time we turned our backs to show the message. Every time the odd look changed to laughter. As we passed the Town Hall we saluted and then turned our backs on the Mayor. We received a loud cheer from the assembled dignatories and the brass band played "The Star Spangled Banner" or at least tried to. The band had been drinking the free wine all day and weren't very good even when sober.

When the parade made its second tour of the town someone had found some US flags. We were preceded by the band and followed by the Boy Scouts carrying the flags proudly.

Back at the Town Hall the Mayor stopped the parade. He thanked us for representing the US so magnificently and presented us with French tricolors to wrap round ourselves "in case our American allies catch cold this evening". Then he gave us the prize for the best fancy dress of that year.

Wrapped in the tricolors we joined the official party on the dais while the parade went round the town for the third time. We were asked to join the Mayor to lead the procession to open the party. 

At the party we ate and drunk to our fill. About one am we were met by the gendarme who had stopped us moving our car that morning.

"Monsieur, Madame, I have some good news for you. A parcel has been handed in as "lost property". I recognised Madame's dress. Your clothes are waiting in my car. I suggest that I should drive you back to your friend's house since you should not be driving. Tomorrow morning a police car will bring you into town to collect your car. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Yes, thank you." I replied.

So we had an official escort back home.

We were in full colour on the front page of the local paper that week. I am glad that they only showed our back view. National Nude Day is one thing. I am not sure that front page frontals would be good for US/French relations.

Bastille Day Ch. 01



I have had a lot of fun writing this story, which will have many chapters. I read somewhere that a novel should have good beginning, a mild climax in the middle, and a major climax at the end. This story has a lot more climaxes, that is, the characters do. I like stories here to have three pages, but this first chapter will be longer to include a first climax - his - and the promise of hers. 

Why is the story so long? I started it almost a year ago as an idea for the Nude Day Competition, intending for it to end on Bastille Day in Paris this year, following a "warm-up" with a group trip to a French nudist beach last year. Then I discovered that on Bastille Day, 2012, the Tour de France ended that day at the nudist beach resort. The characters have a lot of fun after watching on TV the parade in Paris and before going to watch the finish of the bike race. 

The group wants to watch the tour again this year, choosing a nudist resort near the finish line on Bastille Day 2013. With prescience, I know what happens, also the following week. 

*

Early in 2012 on Literotica someone started a new forum: 

"Who wants to come with me to a naturist beach in France?" 

After three pages of replies along the line: "I'll come with you anywhere;" "Me too, either gender, anywhere, hehe!" "Why France? We could just do it here;" "Yeah, or at Paradise Lakes in FL; I have a rental;" "Why naturist? Why wait till summer?" 

The originator, who called himself Naturebuff, replied several times, playing along with the latest comments, but always indicating that the question was really about getting a group of web acquaintances to go to France. After the flurry of such comments, some of those posters left; some of them showed interest in the original proposal, and new names signed on with interest to go to France.

By then, Naturebuff was being shortened to NB or Buffy, and he - yes, a man - replied using both nicknames. Sex-oriented comments still popped up, but they just added a little prickle to the forum, and no one complained. Why should they, how could they? Not on Literotica. Besides, by then serious suggestions of where the group might go were appearing. One person apparently had a copy of the New York Times bestseller 'The World Guide to Nude Beaches and Resorts', and others either agreed or suggested other places. 

Others then googled and discovered that those suggestions were all ones that mentioned that sexual activity was condoned - well, winked at. A couple of others complained that that wasn't what they were looking for, but someone else then claimed that wasn't a problem on the greater areas of the beaches. He was kicked for calling it a "problem."

For a couple of days, there were no comments, and then several came back to confirm what he had said, not without snickers about where they had gotten their information, apparently supplemented by avid viewing on a well-known free porn website. By the next day, it seemed that everyone had this or her own second hand impression of the beaches. When someone with an obviously female user name complained that the videos mainly showed women, but also complained that there were too many fat old men, someone immediately asked tactfully if she was worried about the competition or more interested in seeing well-built younger men. She responded with a verbal sheepish smile.

A few French and German members of Literotica had shown interest in the project. A French one seemed to have hands-on - pants-off - experience and helped the group to reach a consensus to go to Cap D'Agde on the Mediterranean. When he learned that the trend was towards a vacation in August, he explained that they wouldn't have a chance, since all France would be on vacation, urging them to agree to go in July, and also to book as soon as possible. A couple of persons couldn't go in July and bowed out. 

The Frenchman, who called himself "Sans-culotte," offered to help make reservations. That brought the planning forward: agreeing on dates, his input on prices, etc. It was too expensive for another couple of people, but Sans-culotte recruited a retired friend, and someone else, who had been following the forum, signed on when he or she saw that the trip would materialize. Sans-culotte managed to book rooms for the group, all double rooms, which left a bed empty. Buffy managed to recruit one of the earlier drop-outs, so that no one had to pay the higher price for a single vs half for a double room. Everyone booked his or her flight and reported that the show could go on.

But then: there were two or three couples in the group, but the rest were singles who only knew each other from Literotica, including a couple of writers, whose work they all had seen by then. Some had revealed their gender, but not all. 

Then someone raised the question about sharing rooms. The flurry of postings, however, revealed that it had occurred to everyone, at least after the first comment: "Room sharing?! I guess I can share with anyone here." The following postings were more or less in the same vein. Only one person made the slip of saying he or she would "sleep" with anyone. It passed without comment. When someone mentioned gender and age, Buffy suggested that we [Whoops! I wasn't going to admit that I had signed up.] exchange email addresses, moving the discussion off the forum. 

A day later, everyone had been contacted by all the others. There was a very interesting exchange of personal information. Genders both ways came as surprises, also ages. Sans-culotte mailed that he would be sharing a room with his friend, but that he needed a real name for each room, saying that when we [did it again] arrived, it wouldn't matter whether the person actually slept in that room. Everyone gave him his/her name, and he reported back the ones he had used.

We chuckled by email that it then wasn't so important to settle for the whole two weeks who would sleep with whom, no one remarking that by then we all were talking about sleeping instead of room sharing. Initially, there may have been some individual emails, but then everyone copied everything to everyone else, I guess to keep pairings from seeming too personal. Early on, two men agreed that they would share a room. Since one had surprised us as being a male, I think everyone tacitly assumed that they were gay and had found each other. We all congratulated them as the first room sharers. 

The rest of us bantered about the alternatives. Two women in their forties paired off. Then the oldest two persons, a man and woman whose ages had surprised us, agreed to share, cheerfully telling that they didn't want anyone to have to draw straws to sleep with either of them, "and besides, we're past getting any ideas." When we congratulated them, she replied: "but my breasts don't hang too much" with a winking smiley. He came back, remarking: "But what I have does." We all laughed in response, and returned to finding a roommate. 

When the whole exchange of information started, someone suggested adding photos, but a couple of others immediately pointed out that it would only complicate things, become a beauty contest, and other agreed, stifling the idea. What did complicate thing was that there were three women and five men still to be paired, the women all under thirty-five. We men ranged from twenty-seven to fifty-six. The older couple were both in their sixties. Were we five men curious how the three women looked? Of course, but, also, of course, didn't ask. The exchange of personal information move to a higher level: education, profession, religion. 

Since she says she's a Roman Catholic, is she real uptight about the idea of sharing a room with a strange man? If she says she's an agnostic, is she more open to the idea, maybe even more open to other ideas?? Oh, is maybe one of them - one of us - an Afro-American? That question may have occurred to the man who mentioned that his family was now only Jewish in name. I allowed that both my parents were immigrants from northern Europe: "in case you didn't assume that from my name." They had. Then the one with a Harvard BA and MBA replied: "Surprise maybe, I'm a fourth generation 'Yankee Negro', maybe not quite Old Boston stock." 

The exchanges weren't, of course, always so immediate, but it was late one evening, and the last eight of us were all at our keyboards, waiting for each other to post.

"Older than the Kennedy family, someone replied, and we all agreed with verbal chuckles. Then the woman with a very Irish first and last name - the Catholic one, of course, and with just a high school education - replied: 

"Oooh, if you can stand my South Boston accent, I'll never get closer to a Harvard man." 

"I can, but what's a nice girl like you doing here?" he replied.

"Three Hail Marys and an Our Father, only my parents still think I'm 'nice'."

"Hm-hmm. Just for that, lots of practice confessing?"

"Oh yes."

"We'll just be sharing a room, don't have to confess that, ... unless you have flaming red hair. I mean, not for the hair, for sharing the room."

"I don't think so. And if I have flaming red hair? 

"I'll take my chances."

"Me too, thanks. I'll dye it by then."

The rest of us congratulated them with grinning smileys or a ;D.

Then it seemed as though the other two women had been communicating privately; both of them posted emails with almost the same text: 

"If the redhead can, we girls don't want to share a room together. You men figure it out. Remember, last two have to sleep with each other, not literally."

We let them enjoy our exchange, discussing all the possible ways we could choose, finally agreeing that the two younger men had to share a room, and telling the women that we chose them by age, the two oldest and the other two. Everyone but the youngsters seem satisfied, but then someone who hadn't been involved, pointed out that they had all the girls on the beach, to which one of the last women replied: 

"And just don't assume that because we're sleeping with someone, it means we're sleeping with him."

Her choice of words was so obviously intentional, that we all rejoined, a flood of incoming emails. The next day someone suggested again photos, but that was again immediately squelched, and Buffy suggested name-tags when we arrived in France. 

In the following weeks, there was more common communication, but also individual emails between the roommates, all apparently wanting to make the best of the selection process. We were all from Literotica; potential sexual involvement had to be lurking in our minds, and planning a nudist holiday together only underlined that. No one could be surprised if things got a little intimate. Do nudists wear a bathrobe or put on pajamas to go to bed?

Sans-culotte had assured us that the rooms all had twin beds, but someone reported that in Europe twin beds are often pushed together: "almost as good as a double bed." Sans-culotte suggested that we work on our over-all tans in order not to stand out as Americans, and with a verbal chuckle recommended that anyone who had never been nude in public try to get some experience. I had a little, but needed to work on my tan, and did. The comments about how and where to go naked in public in America were entertaining.

This story wasn't supposed to be personal, but since it has slipped out that I was in the group, I will admit that as the fifty-six year-old, I was delighted with the prospect of sharing a room with the thirty-five year-old woman, and one who seemed to be a little witty and also wanted to make the best of our room sharing. Of course, we didn't say anything directly or even obliquely about doing anything with each other, but we exchanged emails regularly and told about ourselves, putting our best foot forward. 

I guess our exchanges about our pasts could have been a little suggestive: that I was divorced, that she had broken up months ago, that everything we told about our present life did not include a partner. I didn't tell her that I had started trying to get fit, swimming regularly and doing a little calisthenics in the morning: sit-ups and push-ups. Soon able again to do thirty push-ups, I wondered if anyone still did it missionary style, not so often on the websites I looked at. But maybe that was my choice of videos, wondering if all women her age now liked to suck cocks - all the way. My ex-wife hadn't.

As the date of departure approached, I had misgivings. What if she was overweight, seriously overweight? She had mentioned that she played tennis, once been pretty good, after I had bragged about my college sport. But she could still be overweight; I had seen quite hefty women playing tennis. Expect the worst, then you won't be disappointed.

I knew where she lived, but would she be on the plane I took, or would it be more convenient for her to go to another major airport. But we all were going to arrive in Paris. Then with our name-tags, or first at the end of our connecting flight? Name-tag: real name or user name, or both?

Both, to remind the others of my Literotica identity. Packing for a nudist vacation was easy.

I arrived in Paris and found my way to the gate for the connecting flight, quite a walk. In the waiting area, I saw that a couple of people had their name tags on and were chatting together. The handsome, light brown man was obviously the Harvard graduate, but it didn't look like the young woman from South Boston had introduced herself. Trying to be discrete, I wandered around. Not seeing the name of my roommate, I didn't introduce myself, then wondering if I was subconsciously hoping our - what? compatibility? - would be stronger than that to the rest of the group. 

Don't fool yourself, kid - old man. But maybe she felt the same and was one of the other women in the boarding area, also without her name-tag? Which one? Not the statuesque blond, hopefully: maybe the right age, but taller than me and too attractive. How homely could she be and still be attractive? This one, that one? Another one? She was nicer, but reading a German newspaper. Weren't the two Germans a couple? Mine - mine? - was an American. That one was reading "Le Monde" but looked more American. She had the largest size carry-on bag; didn't need to check any luggage, since we're all going naked? Damn! I forgot to pack beach towels. 

All the time, of course, I was trying to maintain a pleasant but disinterested expression. Was the slender gentleman with short gray hair perhaps Sans-culotte? He had said that he would be taking the same flight, and he was accompanied by a man his age, who had a more "comfortable" figure. Yes, he immediately introduced himself to those wearing name-tags, also his companion. Both seemed to speak very fluent English. He looked too distinguished to wear a tag with his user name, or with his real name. Hadn't he said that he was an ENI graduate, maybe too well known to want to show his name in public? 

As flight time approached, no more tag-wearers appeared, so I kept mine in my pocket and continued to wonder who the other still anonymous members of the group were. Most of the other passengers looked like they were also starting vacation. How many were also nudists?

We boarded the plane and a couple of hours later were landing in sunny southern France. By the time we had disembarked, we all were wearing our name-tags, except for Sans-culotte. I and the others joined the group, all of us looking a little sheepish about having delayed revealing that we belonged. We all shook hands, first with our roommates and then with the others, most smiling a little wryly, apparently feeling a bit funny about meeting for the first time people they were planning to spend a nude vacation with, especially with their roommates. I certainly did, having envisioned that being nude on the beach was one thing, but that sharing a room with a younger woman, both of us probably still nude, could feel a little different.

After the first round of introductions, we went to wait for the luggage of those who had checked their bags, pairing off, again with smiles. She was not overweight, and was not homely, and I tried to keep my stomach drawn in, not that I was overweight, but not as fit-looking as Sans-culotte, who appeared to be older than me. 

"Marge," as she had immediately introduced herself, now smiling at me as she removed her name tag: "Margaret Faustsgretchen." She had been the one reading a German newspaper. As I removed mine: "Thomas ..., ...", I said: 

"Tom, or Tommy. People who have known me for years still call me Tommy, but it seems a little juvenile at my age."

"Makes you seem younger. Oh, you do."

She smiled apologetically, and I chuckled, replying: 

"I'd like to think so."

"Tommy, Marge," and she offered me her hand again, both of us smiling as we held them just that instant longer than necessary. Then she smirked very slightly and whispered: 

"I suddenly - yesterday - thought: what if he's fat?! You aren't."

"You aren't either, and I had been worrying about that much longer."

"Thanks, my bikini diet for not wearing one."

"I tried to do something about it too," and I drew in my stomach again."

She grinned and chuckled, and I added, still sucking it in: 

"But I can't breath," and relaxed with a gasp.

We both chuckled, smiling, and she said: 

"Still all right; I had visions of something hang over the belt."

"Could have told me that a few weeks ago and saved me some effort."

We smiled again and then chatted softly about the other couples: the possible redhead wasn't; the oldest couple seemed quite happy with each other. It looked like the two men were gay, and the two younger chaps were chatting and chuckling, we agreeing softly that they could be anticipating looking for female company on the beach. That was as close as we got to suggesting that anything might happen, and it only seemed fair to think that the two young men could enjoy themselves.

Then we were all on the mini-bus that took us to our hotel on the beach, sitting, of course, with our respective roommates. Marge glanced over and asked: 

"Have you done this before?"

"A couple of times, visiting my sister and brother in Florida."

"You were the one who suggested Paradise Lakes?"

"But don't really have a rental there, just wanted to join the bantering."

"But you were there, going nude?"

"Of course, no problem, if that's what you mean, ... at least with them and their friends."

"And seeing younger people?"

"Nice, but still no problem, but we weren't together with them."

She smiled with a nod, and I asked: 

"And you?"

"Not really. Oh, in Germany, everyone is nude in the sauna and afterwards, but by then it seems just natural."

"Too hot, and then too cold."

"Something like that. And I guess all the men have a lot more experience with it, no big deal."

"And your tan?"

"Hmm! You'll see."

"You too."

We both smirked slightly and were comfortably silent for the rest of the drive to our hotel. The receptionist called the names used by Sans-culotte to reserve the rooms, and they signed for the rooms and got their keys. On the way to the elevator, a couple of the keys were given to the actual roommates. We agreed to meet again for a drink before dinner and went to our rooms.

Marge and I both snorted softly at the sight of two queen-sized beds, but only asked if the other had a preference, the only factors being: closer to the window or to the bathroom. In a flash of intuition, I said that I preferred the window, thinking that it was polite to let her not have to walk past my bed to go to the bathroom. We dropped our bags on our beds, and began to unpack. When I mentioned that I had forgotten beach towels, she immediately offered me one of hers, telling that she had packed three. I said that I could buy one in the hotel shop, but she insisted with a smile, tossing it to me across her bed. I replied that I would still buy one, turning back to my bed. 




Bastille Day Ch. 01



"I've got to go," she murmured. Of course, I didn't reply or turn back to watch her, just hearing her close the bathroom door, but feeling that I then had to, too. She must have read my thoughts, or had more experience with men than I had - with women, of course. When she opened the door, she said: 

"You probably want to, too; the feeling is infectious."

"You're right," I replied, nodding as I turned and saw that she had taken off her slacks, shaking them by the cuffs. She smiled, shrugging slightly and replied: 

"I'm going to take a shower, no reason to put them back on."

"Me too," I replied, adding: "... after yours," then recalling a story in Literotica in which the good stuff started with the couple's unexpectedly showering together. 

She - Marge, got to practice using her name - snorted slightly with a nod, letting me wonder if she had also read that story, or others by the same author in which showering together was the first intimate contact. She - Marge - turned and went to the small closet to hang up her slacks, letting me see her nicely tanned thighs - nicely shaped thighs - and her nice ass in a pair of conservative cotton panties. Stop think about that, I admonished myself, then remembering that I should go to the bathroom before her shower. The urge had been forgotten. I went quickly, before she returned, since she would then have to move to let me get to the bathroom door. 

I closed it and went, wondering if she was going to take off anything else before I returned. She hadn't, but she had unbuttoned her blouse, un-embarrassedly letting my see her plain white bra, what I could see between the edges of her blouse, which still covered most of her breasts, and also see her nice tan above and below the center of her bra. She had already stepped aside to let me pass. Did she smile or something as I did? I hadn't looked up to see. I returned to my bed and bag, busying myself with removing things from my bag and putting them on the bed.

Of course, she was going to take off her blouse before she went in the bathroom again, also her bra and panties? I smoothed out the couple of shirts that I had packed. Had she snorted? Then the bathroom door closed. I glanced back. Yes, her blouse was lying neatly on her bed, and her bra and panties were lying next to it, not so neatly. 

Kiddo - old man - is she just assuming that since this is a nudist vacation, it is only appropriate for us to just take our clothes off - less modestly than your wife used to do? Or something else? Will you look foolish if you keep your underpants on when you go to take your shower? And it won't be like spending the day with your sister. You were right: different, being in a room alone together with young woman. 

I put my clothes in the closet. She had brought a bikini. I snorted and put my swim trunks next to it on the shelf, and then took off my shirt and hung it up. On the way back to my bed, I sucked in my gut again and looked at myself in the mirror. I put my bag in the bottom of the closet and returned to sit on my bed next to a pair of clean underpants and my toilet kit. As I was taking off my shoes and socks, it suddenly occurred to me that she was going to have to come back with only a towel around her. The hotel wasn't so fancy that it provided terry towel bathrobes, and I could hear that she had turned off the shower. I couldn't be sitting there in my trousers waiting for her to open the door. Would she be expecting me to be - with or without trousers? With her towel around her? I had checked that they were big enough to let her be modest, modest enough that I couldn't hope to see anything below the hem of her towel.

But you were thinking about it! Trousers off! Not be here when she opens the door. I hurried to the closet - out of direct view of the bathroom door - and took them off, hanging them up, as I heard the door open, and heard her snort and say: 

"I've got my towel on."

I stuck my head around the corner of the wall to the bathroom and replied: 

"I wasn't sure, and sure didn't want to be sitting there to see if you did."

"Thanks. You're right, I was wondering."

We smirked at each other slightly, and I remarked: 

"I've still got my underpants on."

"Hmm! I was wondering about that, too. Maybe a good idea."

I stepped into her view, and we both smiled, looking at each other. She snorted, and I snorted, asking: 

"And if I hadn't?"

"Hm-hmm! I really didn't think you wouldn't, but it would have been a little embarrassing."

"For me."

"For me, too. Glad you weren't. Thanks again."

"I was more worried about myself."

"Nice, I like that. ... Oh, I guess we would have survived, but maybe on the beach first."

"Yes. But it will then still be a little different in here."

"Hmm! I thought so too. Hm-hmm! Especially if you were fat."

"Or you."

"We're not. Go have your shower. I'll have something on, and not look until you do."

We smiled, and I got my clean underpants and toilet kit, and smiled again as she stepped aside to let me go to the bathroom. I showered and shaved, and in my fresh underpants returned to the room. Marge was wearing Bermuda shorts and a polo shirt and sitting at the desk, perusing the hotel folder. She looked around at me and said: 

"This is going to better than I hoped. Hope the other couples are as compatible."

"Me too. That was just the word I was thinking in Paris, wondering who you were."

"Nice. If you put on some more clothes, we can have a drink before we meet the others again."

"Good idea. Here or at the bar?"

"Better at the bar."

As I put on a pair of shorts and chose a polo shirt, liking that we both would be wearing one, I wondered about her 'better at the bar'. Did she think that with a drink in our room, and an hour, something might happen in our room, before our agreement to wait till the beach to see each other nude? I obviously was, and liked that she had suggested a drink before we all had one.

When she stood up to join me, it was obvious that she wasn't wearing a bra, and obvious that I had looked. She just smiled and said: 

"Of course not, not here. Feels good."

"Looks good, too. You have a nice tan."

"Better than yours."

"Not as good as I wanted it to be, but better than nothing."

We waited for the elevator, smiling at each other. I was tempted to tell her that it would have also felt good for me not to be wearing jockey shorts, but didn't, realizing that with such thoughts it was good that I was. On the way down, I asked: 

"How did you get such a good tan?"

"Tell you at the bar, ... if we're alone."

We weren't. All except the two older women were already there, and seemed to be happy with their choice of roommates. We order a glass of wine, and when I saw that the others' were almost empty, I ordered a round. We two drank, smiling. As the others were served, I wondered if they had gotten to the bar before us because we had taken longer to become more compatible than they had - had already become more compatible than they were. When they raised their glasses, thanking me, Marge smiled as though she could have been sharing my thought. 

The conversation was all about how much each of us had enjoyed the forum and that Buffy's idea had really happened. He thanked Sans-culotte for his great assistance. Couples shared smiles, but no one said anything about his or her partner. With another glass of wine, ordered by someone else, with thanks, we toasted Sans-culotte for his organizational help. As we were about to go for dinner, the oldest couple, holding hands, said how much they appreciated that they could be part of the group, saying that they weren't sure if they would actually go nude, but that they both would enjoy seeing us. 

We all smiled. When another couple's hands touch, Marge's touched mine. We just locked a couple of fingers for a few seconds, not glancing at each other, but that was enough to make me thankful that I was wearing jockey shorts.

After two more glasses of wine at dinner, two other men treating, we were all in good spirits, telling about our nudist experiences, or lack thereof. They all snorted when I admitted that my rental at Paradise Lakes was only a joke, but they liked that I could tell that I had really been there, also that it had been with my sister, especially when I mentioned that our other sister had also been there.

"Almost the start of a Literotica story." someone suggested, eliciting smirks and snickers. 

"Not with my sisters, too old."

"Never too old," the eldest man replied. 

We all chuckled, including his roommate, who patted his hand. It could have been interpreted as a

an indication that she wanted him to stop talking - like a wife might have - or that she agreed. After a few more comments, we signed the chits for our drinks - breakfast and dinner were inclusive - and left the table. Although it was still not yet ten o'clock, only the two young men and the Europeans wanted to go out. The rest of us, after a short night flying against the sun and what seemed a long day, agreed to call it a night, and agreed that we meet again at eleven in the morning, rather than at breakfast.

Marge and I had been sitting next to each other at dinner, but hardly spoken to each other. In the elevator with three other couples, our hands brushed again and stayed in contact, but without hooking fingers as they had before we went to dinner. I unlocked the door to our room and opened it, letting her enter first. She turned on the light as I closed it, and we faced each other, smiling a little wryly, obviously both a little self-conscious. After a moment's silence, I said: 

"You were going to tell me about your tan."

She looked a little relieved that I had said something other than a remark about our going to bed, and I was pleased that I had remembered what we had been talking about before we were at the bar, also a little relieved. She smiled with a nod, then snorted and replied: 

"At my brother's place on weekends, since Easter, when the weather was good."

"Nice. He has a pool?"

"Thay have one. Want to have an 'Absacker'?"

"Absacker?"

"German, ... a nightcap."

"Oh. Why did you think of the German word? Yes, good idea. Whatever is in the minibar."

We looked: wine, beer, mini-bottles of whisky and cognac, and bottled water.

"Maybe just water," she said, and I agreed and opened a bottle. 

She took the two glasses from the tray on the desk and held them for me to fill, then handing me one. We glanced around. She was standing near the single armchair. I nodded that she sit down. As she did, near the foot of my bed, I was about to sit on it, but drew out the chair at the desk and sat on it. We smiled and raised our glasses and drank. 

"Your tan," I reminded her.

"Um-hmm, at my brother's pool."

Had her nipples popped out? 

"They - he and his wife - had to chuckle about my deciding to take this trip. More than chuckle; he is older and made a parent-like comment, but they understood, so on weekends I sunbathed, and when the kids - eight and ten - weren't around, in the all-together."

She smirked slightly and drank. 

"And they watched, or didn't?"

"I said they could watch, but of course, they didn't just stand around and watch. I guess they did through a window. The first time, after about ten minutes, she came out and asked if they could join me."

Marge smiled, and I smiled, and then felt that I had to go. When I said so, she nodded, and then her thighs twitched slightly, and she smirked and told me to hurry. I did. She was already standing, waiting, when I opened the door. She moved her legs, maybe intentionally, since she smirked again, and hurried past me, closing the door behind herself. I returned to my chair facing the window, then noticing that the rest of the room was reflected in it, including the bathroom door.

I didn't want to look, but when she opened it again, I saw that she had her shorts in her hand. She looked at the back of my head and then also noticed that I probably could see her reflection in the window. I heard her snort and saw her smirk again. I murmured: 

"I wasn't going to look."

"Have to go sit on the shelf in the closet, if we really don't in this room."

I nodded with a chuckle. She moved her hand with the shorts and asked: 

"Want me to put them back on?"

"Hm-hmm! Don't ask questions like that. Whatever you want."

She chuckled, and I saw her glance at where she had been sitting. After a moment, she stooped and stepped into her shorts, buttoning them as she returned to the armchair. She turned and sat down again with another snort and a wry smile. We both had a drink of water. She murmured: 

"After the beach. Where were we?"

"Talking about your sunbathing, that they joined you."

"Yeah, also nude, of course. They obviously hadn't been before. Of course, it was a little funny, more for my brother and me. Of course, we both looked, but then looked at each other's face with wry smiles."

"Like when you sat down, now."

"Maybe wryer."

"And after that, all the time?"

"When the kids weren't there, most of the time. When they went to visit her parents after school let out, I spent the weekends. Yeah, I guess we all liked it."

"Nice."

"Um-hmm, good practice for here, at least, I hope so."

I glanced across the room and asked: 

"In the house, too?"

Marge's eyes also glanced around as she snorted, nodding, and then replied: 

"Eventually. At first, we got dressed to go inside, even to get something to drink, but then that seemed stupid, one of us getting up and putting on our shorts or a shirt. But we put on something, when we all went in the house, and then we stopped doing that."

"Good practice."

"I guess at your sisters' you all went nude all the time?"

"Yes, they're more strict about it. Wrong word; they didn't insist that I do. More consequential about it than some there. We went to a brunch, and most of the others had on shorts or the women, a cloth around their hips."

"And you, as a pale guest, also 'consequential'?"

"Um-hmm. People don't look, not like the videos on the web."

"Hm-hmm! I hope not."

"And they don't show all the older and fatter people."

"We'll see."

"Um-hmm."

I refilled our glasses, and we drank again, then exchanging smiles, and then both glancing around the room and at our beds. She snorted and murmured: 

"Not like on the beach, ... or at their pool."

I must have raised my eyebrows questioningly. She smirked slightly and continued: 

"In the house, all of us standing in the kitchen, I guess my brother felt more naked than nude."

"Hmm! Like I probably will, unless we keep our pants on?"

She nodded with smile and said: 

"Probably, I mean, probably like you understood. His wife kidded him about enjoying the sight of his sister too much, and we all snickered. It only happened once."

We both chuckled with smiles, and I replied: 

"Very subtly explained. I can imagine that he did."

I didn't mean to imply anything, but her nipples popped out, so that I noticed without looking, and couldn't help but wondering how they looked without her shirt. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean it that way," I murmured.

"But it was a nice compliment, all the more, because you didn't mean it to be one."

I felt my cheeks flush and replied: 

"Now I do," and knew that she could see that I was blushing, not looking at her.

When I did again, hers were also slightly flushed, and her nipples still - or again - erect. She brushed her forearm over them, snorting softly with a nice smile, replying softly: 

"Thank you. Sweet, that you're blushing, me too."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, returning her smile, and then stifling a yawn.

She also yawned, holding her hand to her mouth. Of course, we were tired, I thought, but felt that mine was more a nervous yawn. Somehow we had to go to bed. She seemed to have the same thought, remarking softly: 

"How are we going to bed?"

"Hmm? What I was wondering. Just go brush your teeth - and whatever else you do - and pop into bed like Mommy always told you."

She laughed, and I laughed, pure nervous release. We grinned at each other, and she remarked: 

"That was just right. I'm going to enjoy your company."

"And me, yours too. Now scamper off, before I remember that you're not a little girl."

She grinned as she stood up and brushed her hand over my shoulder as she past me. I turned my head and saw that she got whatever she slept in from under her pillow, one of them. Then she dropped it and gave me a smile as she took off her shorts, leaving them on the bed. She picked up her nightwear again and went in the bathroom, closing the door. 

I sat for a few moments, and then realized that it would be best for me to get undressed while she was in the bathroom. Pajama bottom or the old boxer shorts? I never slept in anything at home, but had anticipated that I needed something to share a room with her. The boxer shorts; my old pajama bottom seem too much my age. What would she be wearing? I was just pulling the shorts on, when I heard the door open. 

She grinned and said: 

"Like my new nightie?"

She was standing, holding out the sides of her shortie nightgown, holding it up enough that I could see the matching bottom. I nodded with a smile, agreeing: 

"Nice, sweet. Now pop into bed before I forget."

She chuckled and opened her bed, remarking: 

"I don't think I need a good night story."

We smiled, and I disappeared into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later, I opened the door. She had turned out the lights, leaving my bed lamp on, and was in bed, facing my bed. As I opened it, she remarked: 

"Funny. It means the same thing: 'before I remember or before I forget that you're not a little girl'. You said it both ways."

"Hmm? ... Yes, I guess it does. Funny. Which do you prefer?"

I had gotten into bed facing her and turned out the light. In the dark, I heard her snort. It was a couple of seconds before she replied softly: 

"Funny. It's the 'before'; you can remember or forget that I'm not."

"Hard not to. Good night."

"Good night, sleep tight."

"You too."

We did. My last thought was hoping that I wouldn't snore. When I woke up to turn over during the night, I remembered where I was, only vaguely recalling that I wasn't alone, and fell asleep again.

In the morning, however, wide awake, I immediately remembered her. I had to go to the bathroom, and there was going to be no other way to make my erection disappear. It was light, but still quite early. Maybe she was still asleep. I turned my head back; it looked like it, and she had also turned over, facing the bathroom door. At least, she would only see my backside.

I slipped out of bed and made sure it was in my boxer shorts, holding to the side away from her, as I rounded the corner of her bed and slipped into the bathroom, trying to close the door silently. It was going to be difficult to aim down at the toilet, and then I would have to flush. I used the washbasin and rinsed it, hoping that by the time I had dried my hands there wouldn't be any bulge in my shorts, and if there was, and if she saw it, that she knew enough about men not to be surprised.

I opened the door and saw that her eyes were open, then looking up at me with a mild smile. 

"Good morning. I have to go, too."

"Good morning."

I stepped back in the bathroom and flushed, remarking that I hadn't wanted to wake her. She smiled again, sitting up with a still sleepy expression. I went back to bed, and she went to the bathroom, returning a couple of minutes later, looking more wide awake. We lay facing each other again. Before, she had been lying on the far side of her bed, but now she moved over to the side nearer my bed. We smiled at each other, and she said: 




Bastille Day Ch. 01



"Good morning again, now that I'm really awake."

"Me too; too early still."

"Um-hmm. Sleep well?"

"Very, out like a log, hoping I wouldn't snore."

"Hm-hmm! I don't think you did."

"No promises that I won't."

"That's all right, though it might have surprised me last night; you know, the first night in a strange room, and then that: 'Who is it? A man? In my room?'"

We both chuckled. Then she snorted and remarked: 

"Funny, sharing a room with a man I just met. Oh, ... well, it's happened before, but - hm-hmm - not like this."

"I won't say anything, ... me too."

We both snorted with slight smirks, mine partly because I had lied to be compatible, knowing that the room had never been strange; that it had either been hers or mine, but that it hadn't been like she was implying: the first time I was in the room. After a moment she asked: 

"How do you think the others are getting along?"

"As well as we are, I hope."

"Yes. If not, they may have more trouble with all this."

"I don't think we will."

"I don't either."

We smiled again. Then she snorted with a smirk and almost whispered: 

"Want to know a secret?"

"I doubt that we'll have many by the end of our vacation."

She nodded and shook her head, smirking again. I snorted with a nod and added: 

"If you want to tell."

"You'll see, anyway. After watching all those videos, I wondered if I shouldn't shave."

"Hm-hmm. Those are the ones those voyeurs look at, not the old, fat ones. I'll see."

"I didn't."

"Ruined my anticipation. Not that you didn't, that I can't keep wondering for a couple of hours."

"Sorry about that."

"Why not?"

"Thought I couldn't, shouldn't at my brother's, would have been too much of a demonstration."

"Hm-hm-hmm! Sort of like: I can let my brother see me in the nude, but not remind him of those videos."

"Something like that. And then, well, I guess I could have before the trip, but didn't, thinking I could wait and decide here."

"Hm-hmm! If your tan is as good elsewhere as what I've seen of it, that could look funny, kind of calling attention to it."

"Hmm! I hadn't thought of that. Yeah, it would. Hm-hmm! Little white triangle: look everyone!'"

"You might even get on a video."

"Oooh! You think that will be problem?"

"I doubt it, at least, not for me."

"Now you're ruining my anticipation."

"Sorry. Just to take the edge of your disappointment."

"You're teasing, I hope."

"Hmmm, ... I hope you think I was."

"Me too. Anyway, thanks for saving me the effort of shaving."

"Seems like it would be a delicate operation."

"Um-hmm, especially the first time."

"Like boys learning to shave."

"Yeah, I guess."

We were silent for several moments, exchanging brief smiles about our conversation. Then I asked: 

"What else can we talk about?"

"Anything almost ... after that."

"You wanted to tell me a secret."

"But it turned out to be good that I did. ... Do you think the girl from South Boston really has red hair and dyed it?"

"I doubt it; not that many flaming redheads, but it was a good joke."

"Um-hmm, but she has fair enough skin to be one."

"Not so good for sunbathing, her problem."

"Or his, but he probably won't mind keeping her well covered with sunblocker."

"But she won't have any excuse to return the favor."

"But I can."

"Yes, please, if you meant it like that."

"I did."

We smiled again. After a few moments, she said: 

"Now your turn to think of something to talk about."

"Hmm? ... Hm-hmm! 'Anything almost'. Almost."

"What?"

"Not the first thing that came to mind."

"Okay, then no 'almost'."

"Really?"

"'Really.' What came to mind?"

"Hmm! If you insist; I was wondering what color your nipples are."

"Hm-hmm! You'll see, ... but they're more tan than pink."

"Nice, I like that; show up better with your tan."

"Hm-hmm! True, ... and - hm-hmm - show up better if you keep talking about them."

"Oh, nice!"

We smirked with chuckles. I snorted and said: 

"You didn't tell me to stop talking about them. How does it feel when they pop out."

"Uhmm! Kind of good, right now; ... usually. Oh, I guess I don't always notice, like when I am suddenly surprised or scared. Oh, it's usually nice, even when they do when some stranger's glance makes them pop out, even if it is a little embarrassing. You're not a stranger."

"Thanks. Mmmm, you don't have to ask me the obvious question: it always feels good, just embarrassing at the wrong times."

"Hm-hm-hmm! I didn't ask, but now I know. ... I'll remember that it feels good and hope you don't feel embarrassed."

"Thanks, I probably still will be."

We were silent with just the smallest smiles, as I thought that she had also noticed that we both hadn't used the subjunctive, that we were both assuming that she would see me with an erection, maybe wondering like me, if it would be just because we were naked. She snorted with another slight smile, and we were silent for a longer period than before. Finally, she murmured: 

"I like this, being able to talk about it; will make it easier when we do."

I nodded, wondering: when we do what? If we didn't change the subject, it could become embarrassing for me. She must have thought something similar: 

"What time is it? When did they say breakfast would be served?"

"Can't remember, just that we're all going to meet at eleven."

"We could get up. If it isn't served yet, we could take a walk, or afterwards, if it is already."

"Good idea. Another shower? I need to shave. I shave under the shower."

"Then I'll take one, too."

"You go first; won't have to wait so long, if I do."

She smiled with a nod and threw back her covers and sat up. She stood up between the beds and walked around hers. At the door to the bathroom, she hesitated, and then turned back to me with a slightly sheepish smile, hesitating again, and then said: 

"I don't think we need to wait till the beach, ... after all we've said."

Before I could reply, she gathered up the bottom of her shorty nightgown and began to pull it over her head. She did have a nice tan, and her nipples were more tan than pink, and were popped out. And she didn't have the bottom on! Her face reappeared, with a more sheepish smile. She murmured: 

"I took it off in the bathroom, don't usually wear it."

She just stood there, letting me look at her, blushing I discovered when my eyes returned to her face. I had to say something: 

"Nice tan, and they are tan. beige."

"And feel good." 

She smirked and rubbed her forearm over her tight nipples, without much effect.

"Still feels good," I remarked.

She nodded with smile, then snorted and said: 

"Hope I'm not embarrassing you."

"Not quite. Lovely, and you can't shave, too well tanned."

"I knew that."

She dropped her nighty on her bed and turned to go in the bathroom, leaving the door open. I caught glimpses of her moving before she stepped in the shower. I wondered if was better stay in bed until she was almost finished, or rather to get up and take off my shorts, hoping that being naked for a couple of minutes might get me accustomed enough to it that it wouldn't be embarrassing. I chose the latter and went to the window, looking out at the water and up and down the road in front of the hotels, wondering what people wore between the hotels and the beach.

I expected her to call me when she was finished in the bathroom, envisioning her standing by her bed. Of course, she would still be naked, smiling expectantly, waiting for me to turn around. Maybe it was nice that my penis wasn't as small as it could be the first time she saw it. It wasn't going to be embarrassing. I heard the shower stop and the curtain rings move, and then she called immediately: "Shower's free." 

She wouldn't be waiting by her bed, probably not even see me turn around and walk to the bathroom, but then we would both be in it, both naked, in close proximity, like with her brother in the kitchen, probably closer. The thought flashed through my mind as I turned, seeing her drying herself in the bathroom. Hotel bathrooms weren't designed for two persons, even this one for a room four people could sleep in. 

When I entered it, she just glanced at me, unconcernedly drying herself, as she stepped back in front of the toilet; very unconcernedly, drying her back, her breasts moving, as she drew the towel diagonally up and down. If she glanced down, she would see that my cock was not unconscious of the situation. I glanced down. No, she really couldn't shave; her little triangle of hair would have blocked out any light from the sun. I had to get my razor before stepping into the bathtub. When I had, I didn't have to look to know that she was then drying her pussy. Did she call it that? 

Then I was alone behind the shower curtain. It hadn't been embarrassing, not the way we had been talking about it; just two nude people seeing each other that way for the first time. I could have remembered to suck in my stomach, however. I turned on the shower and said: 

"You were right; no reason to wait till the beach."

"It was becoming a little foolish to maintain the proprieties, when we knew we would."

"Um-hmm, and nice, just a nice prickle, being in here with you."

"I like it too. ... Hm-hmm! And you didn't have to take the edge off my disappointment."

"Hmm! Nudists don't look."

"Just once. Didn't you?"

"Twice, three times - more places to look."

"I told you it felt good."

"Not for me, ... just looked good, ... liked what I saw."

"Thanks. ... Am I supposed to say the same thing?"

"No; I wouldn't believe you; nothing special."

"If you don't want me to. ... I'll wait."

We were silent, while I wondered just how she meant that. I could see that she was still in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and drying her hair. Had it been wet? Hadn't she washed it before the flight. Yesterday? Now wanting an excuse to stay in the bathroom? I began to shave, sometimes a inspiration for brilliant thoughts, if any of mine were "brilliant." Not brilliant but direct: 

"Didn't you wash your hair yesterday?"

"Yes. Sort of forgot, until it was wet again."

"Just 'sort of' forgot'?"

"Um-hmm."

"To be here when I've finished?"

"Um-hmm, why not? You don't mind?"

"No, ... just wondering."

"I like it, ... like this, ... and like we were talking in bed."

"Um-hmm, I do too, did too."

"Teasing a little."

"Getting to know each other better."

"Um-hmm, yeah, that's better, says it better."

"I'm lucky. Who suggested that we pair off by age?"

"I can't remember, but it was a good idea."

"For us, anyway. Hope you agree."

"I do, ... also lucky."

"Hope the others are too."

"Um-hmm."

I had finished shaving and opened the shower curtain. She smiled at me, and I returned her smile. She handed me a towel, and I began to dry myself. She had finished drying her short hair and sat there, brushing it as she watched me, mostly looking at my face, and I, at hers, not without a glance or two at her breasts. When her nipples tightened, she just snorted with a smile and murmured: 

"Feels good."

I was drying my penis and scrotum, hidden by my towel, and replied: 

"Here too."

Her eyes dropped down for a moment and then returned to mine. She snorted with slight smirk and replied: 

"Even if it doesn't look like it?"

"Hmm! Maybe I should have said: for me too."

"But you didn't."

"Freudian slip."

We both chuckled. I stepped out of the tub and dried my legs and feet, putting them up on the edge of the tub. If she wanted to see my penis and balls, she could have. Yes, I guess I could have turned the other way. I hung up my towel and combed my hair. She stood up, and we left the bathroom and put on our clothes from the evening before, smiling as we watched each other.

"Breakfast?"

"Breakfast."

In the elevator, when our hands touched, we held hands, smiling at each other again. Breakfast was already being served, a generous buffet. Even the scrambled eggs looked good, not too dry or too runny. With our plates, we sought a table, finding San-culotte and his friend sitting with the two women who shared a room. We greeted them and sat at the adjacent table. Someone said: "the early risers," and we nodded, looking around and seeing that no one else from our group was there.

They included us in their conversation, and we learned that one of the women had been to Club Med at Cancun. The other one admitted with a chuckle that she was a secret nudist in a conservative community in the Midwest, a school teacher, whose reputation would be ruined if any parents knew what she did on vacations. 

That changed our opinions of them, since they both didn't look like they were nudists, but, of course, we had all met on Literotica, which suggested that they - and all the rest of the group - were open minded, not just about nudism. When one of them mentioned that, Marge gave me a slight smile, and I thought Sans-culotte and his friend also smiled.

Eventually, others from our group appeared and were greeted. Then the six of us left our tables, and Marge and I went out for our walk, soon holding hands again. We speculated with smirks if the others might change rooms - with a brief tighter clasp of our hands. Then I told her about my question about what people wore before they were on the beach. We timed our walk to return to our hotel by 10:30, and had ample opportunity to observe more experienced vacationers leaving their hotels.

Back in our room, we changed and with her towels and suntan lotion joined the group in the lobby. We were, of course, curious to see if we could tell how the other roommates had gotten along. It looked as though "South Boston" and "Harvard" were very compatible, also the apparently gay men and the elderly couple. The others seemed to be agreeably satisfied with their roommates. The two young men looked tired, and admitted that they had found a disco.

Then we were on the beach, seeing other with nothing on, or just a bikini bottom, men also with just the minimum, a "cache-sex," as we learned. With more or less aplomb, we took off whatever we were wearing, revealing varying degrees of tanning. I wondered if anyone notice that Marge and I smiled slightly and thought that we had already seen each other naked - or maybe more. 

It seemed that we all were curious about "South Boston." She seemed a little coy about stripping, but grinned as she revealed her pubic hair, almost black, like her other hair, and remarked: 

"I was thinking of bleaching and dying it flaming red as a joke. We all snickered with grins. Her roommate smiled indulgently, as though he already knew what color her pubic hair was and maybe had heard her joke.

Hers was the only comment about their own or others' nudity. I was surprised that the two women from breakfast were shaved, but not that one of the younger women was. I had seen too many shaved pussies on internet to be curious about the first ones I saw in the flesh.

Marge and I settled down on her beach towels. When I lay down on my stomach - not to hide anything - she immediately snorted and said that I needed sun lotion on my fanny. When I replied that she didn't, she smirked and insisted: 

"Oh yes I do."

We both enjoyed spreading lotion on each other, and that the other one did. It was a good thing that I was lying on my stomach from the way she was doing it. It was a couple of minutes before I dared to sit up and do it to her, my embarrassing problem not helped by her appreciative comments. I didn't venture to see if others had the same problem, and lay back down again. She found my hand, grinning at me with her head down on her towel, and asked: 

"Embarrassing?"

"Hmm! Too, but felt good."

"For me, too."

"But we're each going to have to do our fronts ourselves."

"Uhmm, pity!"

"You want everyone to know how compatible we are?"

"Not here."

She squeezed my hand, and I squeezed hers. Still good that I was lying on my stomach.

Half an hour later, she smiled and asked: 

"Can we turn over now?"

"If you don't do or say anything."

"I won't."

"Not even make a demonstration of doing your breasts."

"I'll try not to."

"I won't look, ... and don't you either."

"Hmm! Don't want it to get a sunburn."

"You guessed it, and don't need your comments."

"That I would like to help?"

"Especially!"

We grinned at each other, and she sat up and began to rub lotion on her chest and breasts. Reluctantly, I turned my head the other way. After a while, she lay back down again, touching my hand with hers, her other hand, and murmured: 

"Now you can. I won't look or say anything."

I sat up and used the lotion, drawing my thighs a bit to be discrete about applying it to my penis. While doing my legs, I glanced around. The group had disbursed: all roommates together, a couple of pairs together. I snorted when I saw that Sans-culotte and his friend were with the two women, lying with the women between them. The two young men were further away and looked like they were sleeping. The older couple seemed quite comfortable with each other and being nude, both sitting and looking around. She had exaggerated about her breasts hanging, and they were as well tanned as Marge's. I looked down at them, hoping her nipples would pop out, but they didn't. She chuckled and murmured: 

"Too warm."

"You didn't say I couldn't look."

"No. Still feels good."

She only snorted when I looked at her triangle of dark hair, neatly small, not like the ones, where the hairs become sparser at the edges. No, the sun couldn't penetrate it. As I lay back down, she snorted again and said: 

"Now I can look too, not just now."

"Of course. Sorry for staring."

"Hm-hmm! Why not? I don't mind your looking at me."

Our hands touched again, linking fingers. The sun felt good on my penis, warming it. I knew from experience that it was as full as it could be without stiffening, and that my scrotum was very relaxed, ideal for her to see - if I didn't think any more about it, or her fingers didn't do something to suggest that she was. They didn't, and for a while we dozed.

Suddenly a shadow on my face roused me. I opened my eyes, luckily still in the shadow, else I would have been blinded by the sun. A late teenaged boy in speedo-type shorts was staring down at Marge. 

"Scam! Go away! Voyeur!"

He did, I hoped with a red face. I had to close my eyes in the sunlight. Marge's fingers gripped mine, and she murmured: 

"Thanks. I didn't know. Who was it?"

"Stupid kid, stupid enough to let his shadow fall on my face."

"Hmm! And the less stupid ones?"

"As long as we don't know."

"Oh, that was one of the times when they pop out, but I don't notice."

"I'll look next time. Think of it as a compliment that he wanted to look at you."

"I'd rather you did."

"Always a compliment."

Our fingers tightened, and we both hummed in um-hmm. When hers gripped mine a couple of minutes later, I snorted and said: 

"Now's a good time for you to look, ... before you do that again."

"Hm-hmm! Before it starts to feel good?"

"And embarrassing."

"Wouldn't want that ... not here."

"Then it wouldn't be embarrassing."

"Just feel good? That's nice to know."

"Better look now."

We both snorted, and she sat up and did, glancing around to avoid seeming to stare, but then snorting again, when eyes returned to it and saw that it was beginning to stiffen. She smiled at me and said: 

"Maybe we should test the water. People do also swim here."

"Good idea."

I sat up, knowing that my penis was going to stand out a little when I stood up. So be it. In the videos, others had been like that; couldn't surprise the natives, maybe others in our group. Make them envious that we were getting along so well? Maybe help break the ice of the other mixed couples? I hoped so, as Marge and then I stood up.




Bastille Day Ch. 01



We found our way to the water, observing that some other men weren't entirely unaroused. She murmured: 

"See, just normal here."

"If their wives or girlfriends look like you, ... or look like you did."

"Um-hmm." 

She gave me a sweet smile, and then we were in the water, not cool enough to immediately take the starch out of my penis. We waded out far enough to swim, leisurely side stroking, facing each other, and then returning, facing each other on our other sides. When we had our feet back on the ground, she smiled, and I smiled, and then were standing closer than we had been in the bathroom. Our hands found each other, then all four of them, her breasts almost touching my chest. 

I wondered if she wanted to kiss; we sure were close enough to, and squeezing each other's hands. But she didn't tilt her head the way I expected, just smiling very slightly as she looked in my eyes. After a moment she murmured: 

"I want to sleep in your bed tonight."

Of course, I wanted her to, having anticipating that we eventually would, but surprised - pleasantly surprised - by her direct approach. But that didn't save me from replying: 

"With me?"

She snorted with a grin, nodding, her nipples touching my chest.

"Whom else?"

I grinned and remarked: 

"As stupid as that kid." 

"Um-hmm" she agreed, still grinning. She still didn't look like she expected a kiss.

"And I'm supposed to lie in the sun thinking about that."

"I thought it would make it easier; it was so obvious that we've both been thinking about it; that we - you especially - could relax, that we didn't have to keep talking around it."

"But it was so nice."

"Very. Hm-hmm! I was already thinking about it last night, almost did this morning."

"Come and jump in my bed?"

"Um-hmm! Without my bottom on."

"That sure would have surprised me, but this is better, also a surprise."

"Um-hmm, a little for me too, that I said it."

"I was wondering how I could."

"It wouldn't have mattered how, if you had."

We grinned again, and she rubbed her nipples on my chest. I snorted and said: 

"Stop that, or people could think that we already have, ... maybe are."

"Hm-hmm! Okay, till tonight."

"I'm a little out of practice."

"Me too, but we have lots of time."

"Um-hmm, but maybe we should swim a little first."

With a snort, she let go of my hands and found my penis. It wasn't really stiff, more just floating. She snorted again, and I did, murmuring: 

"Actually, more like this morning, when I had to get up."

"And had to go to the bathroom?"

"Um-hmm, and wondering if you knew about that."

"Um-hmm, if I can admit to so much experience."

"Want me to?"

"That would be something new. Okay."

As my warm urin streamed against her hand, she snickered with a smirk, and then asked: 

"Want me to, too?"

"If you have to?"

I held my hand down under her pussy. She opened her thighs a little, and hummed once, and then I felt her warm stream, the contrast to the cooler water. I brought my hand right up against her pussy. She snorted and murmured: 

"All warm, ... of course, funny, ... nice, ... not quite sure why."

"Me neither."                                                                        

"Done it before?"

"No, just occurred to me, having to go, and you holding it."

"Hmm! Well, now, I think we can show ourselves on the beach again."

"Um-hmm. ... Hmm? Never had anyone tell me they wanted to sleep with me."

"And I never have."

We snorted with smiles and walked hand in hand out of the water, squeezing hands, when we saw one or two other couples from the group notice us.

As we approached our towels, Sans-culotte met us - with a smile - and said that some of the group were going to have a drink at the bar on the beach, and that we didn't need to get dressed. 

We picked up their things and followed him.

It was a little funny to be closer to strangers, some who were clothed, like the guys serving. The others from the group greeted us with smiles, but nothing to suggest that whatever they might have

observed or thought about us was remarkable. After a drink, when someone suggested that we maybe shouldn't overdo sunbathing the first day, a couple of the paler members agreed, including, of course, the very fair Kathleen from South Boston. Her roommate, James, nodded when she took his hand. When Marge's hand touched mine, I nodded without looking at her, and the few of us trooped back towards our hotel, like others, just wrapping our towels around us.

In our room again, we removed our towels, just smiling at each other. She remarked: 

"Have to shower, all the sun lotion."

"Want to go first?"

"Or we can together."

"Since I rubbed it on, I guess I should wash it off."

"What I was thinking."

We smirked slightly at our oblique agreement. As we joined each other in the tub, she snorted and murmured: 

"You can also wash off the sun lotion that I applied."

"You too."

We snickered and then almost competed to use the soap from the squirt bottle on the wall, without the least hesitation washing each other all over. She seemed to enjoy that I was uncircumcised. I certainly enjoyed her thoroughness, and also her appreciation that I didn't miss anywhere between between her pubic hair and the base of her spine. I hadn't done that before, but when she washed me that way, snorting with a smirk, I assumed that she expected me to reciprocate. It almost goes without saying that we chuckled and exchanged comments of "feels good."

We rinsed each other as thoroughly, she insisting on cold water and snorting with a grin when her nipples popped our, saying: "so I could say 'feels good' again." The cold water hampered her effort to give me reason to reply, but I said so anyway. We dried ourselves and returned to the room, looking at each other. 

"Now what?" I asked.

"Nap? Talking?"

"If you want."

She nodded.

"My bed? ... Even if it isn't yet tonight."

She smiled with a nod. As we took the few steps to it, she snorted and said: 

"Good thing you offered; I would have anyway."

"I suspected so, didn't want you to have start everything."

I threw back the covers and lay down, extending my arm, and she joined me, lying on her side with her head on my shoulder, after a moment, drawing her knee up on mine. For a few moments, we were silent, then I murmured: 

"Nice."

"Real nice."

"Um-hmm, ... but I could almost really take a nap after the sun, jet lag."

"Um-hmm, me too, almost."

"'Almost', talk? What about?"

"How nice this is? Maybe like we were before?"

"That could keep me awake."

Her hand slid onto my stomach, and I then rubbed her back. She nodded slightly and asked: 

"Can - may - I hold you?"

"And if I said no? Of course, just don't expect too much."

As her hand slid down, she murmured: 

"I just want to hold, play with it a little; I like the way I can."

"As if I didn't notice in the shower."

"Um-hmm."

Her fingers picked up my relaxed penis and move my foreskin up and down: 

"More fun than the others."

"I've always wonder what it's good for; for girls to play with."

"Um-hmm, and probably the boy too."

"Um-hmm, of any age."

"Hmm! Of course." 

For a few moments she played with it until she could hold it in hand, then murmuring: 

"That's better."

"Feels good, but if you want to talk ...."

"Just like this. Feels good in my hand too."

She held it up higher and moved her head to glance down for a moment, and then her hand was resting on me again, just moving a little. While I was wondering what I could say, she murmured: 

"Tonight; what do you want to do?"

"Anything you want. ... I don't think I need to try anal."

"I don't either, ... but a little, like in the shower, that feels good too."

"Um-hmm, as I discovered."

"First time?"

"Not quite, tried it a little after seeing videos."

"Like me."

"Before someone else did?"

She nodded, then snorted and murmured: 

"Then, well, ... oh, I kind of forget, when everything else is feeling good, I like that too."

"More than in the shower?"

She nodded again. 

"I'll try to remember."

She nodded once more vigorously, then snorted and remarked: 

"Or I might remind you. Anything you really like?"

"Hmm? I'll like you on top; I think it must be better for the woman to be able to do what she wants, since they usually need longer, ... better if they can control what's going on."

"Mmmm! Could have thought that you're so considerate. I agree; I'll like that."

I rubbed her back, and she squeezed my penis. 

"Anything else?" she asked.

"I always wanted someone to go all the way, ... the other way," I added tentatively.

"Sucking your cock?" She moved her hand up and down a little further.

"Um-hmm."

"No one has, before? Oh, I shouldn't ask."

"Hm-umm. My wife never wanted to go all the way, and the two since then: didn't want to at all, or only might have, if I had made her come."

"Oh, you can make me come; that will be no problem."

"Oooh! I'll like that."

"And you will too."

"Mmmm! Like I mean?"

"Um-hmm."

"You like that?"

"Yes. All the way, before you ask."

"My wet dreams coming true!"

"Hm-hm-hmm! Really?"

"Not really, I've never had one, some close, but like I said before: boys of any ages ..."

"Hm-hmm! Honest."

"Why not? It's easy to be, with you."

"With you too."

I rubbed her back again. She let go of me and slid her hand down and gathered up my balls, fondling them in my loose scrotum. I hummed and murmured: 

"Nice too."

"Um-hmm, real nice. ... Why didn't we talk so much - enough - about what we liked to do with our partners? Oh, I should have said 'I', not 'we'."

"But you were right - 'we'. I didn't either."

"Funny - not really 'funny' - you think you're in love and that will make it all good."

"Um-hmm, even if you don't think you're really in love, speaking for myself, ... but they didn't either."

"They didn't either."

"We might not have either, if we hadn't met as near strangers, sharing a room."

"And wanting to, ... well, in a situation that just made it the most obvious thing to happen."

"That's for sure, and especially nice that you sort of started."

"Did I?"

"I thought so. I wanted to, of course, but thought that if the man said anything first, it could put you in a bind, screw up the whole vacation."

"Sweet, gentleman. I don't think it would have."

"But still better that I didn't risk it, ... and charming how you did."

"Sweet again. Oh, I guess somehow I had the same feeling that you had, that I had to make it easier for you - to agree."

"Very easy, thank you."

She nodded, and her hand found my penis again, now all soft again. She snorted and murmured: 

"Nice, start all over. I like it when it's like that, ... like when I'm doing that."

"Sucking my cock?"

"Um-hmmm!"

"Shouldn't ask, but when was the first time, then all the way?"

"Why not ask? First time, and all the way, when I was eighteen."

"Lucky guy!"

"Hmm! ... Um-hmm."

"I won't ask."

"I shouldn't tell."

"I didn't ask."

"Oh, I will, want to. You want to tell someone about it, and you're the best person."

"Nice that you think so, but I didn't ask."

"Hm-hmm! ... My brother, older."

"Hmm! Understand why you said you shouldn't tell."

"Shocked?"

"Probably not the only one, and from stories on Literotica, many others - brothers and sisters - have fantasized about it's happening."

"Um-hmm. That was sort of reassuring to discover."

"You don't have to tell me."

"But I want to, now, having admitted that."

"I am curious, of course!"

She turned her head up to give me a smile and the relaxed, hardly fondling my penis - "cock," as she called it. I wondered what she called her pussy.

"Oh, we didn't go all the way. He was twenty, and, of course, it was always nice having an older brother, and one that my classmates all thought was nice. I didn't always, but when we were fifteen and sixteen, before he went to college, and we were looking at boys differently - we girls - and not at the immature ones in our class, I began to agree with my classmates. Then he was away, except for vacations. And then I had my eighteenth birthday party. I'm still surprised that my parents left for the weekend, giving us the run of the house, but with him as chaperone."

"Maybe they thought it better not to know what was going on."

"I think you're right. Of course, we weren't supposed to drink, but we did, of course. He couldn't stop that, just couples getting in the dark and doing too much. And a couple of the girls were trying to make it hard for him. Hm-hmm! Maybe like that too."

She fondled my - her "cock" - and remarked: 

"Well, probably more hard for him. Anyway, I guess he drank too, and then the party was over, and we were alone. Hmm? I'm not sure how it started, a little drunk, forgetting."

"But it did? Hm-hmm! Not to be fresh, but if you talked to him, like you have to me ..."

"Hmm! Wish I could remember. Anyway, whatever happened at first, at some point we had most of our clothes off."

"And you were making it hard for him?"

"Not like this, but it was, and he was making it 'feel good' for me. Yeah, well, we both liked it."

"A younger sister can be just as attractive as an older brother."

"I guess so. I wanted to be, and then we were doing everything but. And the next morning in his bed .... I liked that, that we had landed in his bed, like he had wanted to as much as I had. So there we were, gone too far to deny that we hadn't wanted to. He only complained a little, and I told him that I did not want to go all the way, but everything else. He accepted that, and we did."

"Nice brother."

"Um-hmm. Yeah, ... oh, this is really about my first time sucking cock."

"Um-hmm."

"Of course, I made him come, seeing it shoot way up on his chest. Can you do that?"

"What a question! Sometimes, still."

"Hm-hmm! Shouldn't have asked, but that's good. Tell."

"But don't forget to finish your story."

"I won't; too fun to tell, finally."

"Sure, I did it, before much came out."

"How old?"

"Twelve, thirteen."

"And then?"

"Then it got better, more semen in it, not that I had a word for it then."

"Mmmm! Big thick blobs."

"Hmm! Like your brother, just to remind you to finish your story."

"Um-hmm! And then?"

"Yes, well, too much to wipe up with underpants or a handkerchief and put in the laundry."

"Doing it three or four times a day."

"Just on weekends."

"Hm-hmm! And up on your chest?"

"Of course. Have to wonder about those guys in the videos that just dribble."

"Um-hmm, even when it's so much, but you can do it better?"

"Probably feels just as good - if they want to demonstrate on a chat site."

"But I like to see it shoot, ... and feel it in my muschi."

"Your 'muschi'?"

"German expression. 'Pussy' is all right, but I like 'muschi'. Hm-hmm! Probably from the guy who used it."

"Good reason; sure he liked it too."

"He did. Sounds sweet and personal. Pussy is a euphemism."

"More about the outside." 

"Um-hmm. Muschi, maybe a familiar, diminutive of Möse, another word for it. Öse is the eye of needle, eyelet, grommet."

"Appropriate."

"Where were you?"

"Where were you?"

"With my brother, but you were telling how good you could do it, and that it was too much for the laundry. What did you do with it?"

Wiped it up and licked my fingers."

"Oh, so you know how it tastes?"

"Strange. Couldn't think of anything else to do with it, but, ... well, you know how tastes."

"Um-hmm! An acquired taste, like stinky cheese and oysters.

"Yeah, just became familiar, pleased - proud? - when it was a lot."

"Not the third or fourth time - on weekends."

"I won't ask how you know, but you're right."

"And how far?"

"Hm-hmm! Before girls, sometimes I used to try to hit my mouth."

"Oooh! And did you? I'm impressed."

"It was more a question of aiming than distance. Of course, I had to hold my head nearer."

"Hm-hmm! Must have been after you liked the taste."

"Just belonged to it; different, like muschis taste."

"Mine tastes good."

"I'm sure; don't they all? Don't tell me if you know!"

"Hm-hmm! ... I think other men agree with you."

"I'm sure yours does, will."

"Can you still do that, in your mouth?"

"Maybe, stopped aiming. Last week, way up on my shoulder."

"Mmmm! Maybe we have time to waste a shot and see if you can."

"Hmm? Maybe not, don't expect too much. Back to your brother: sucking your first cock, all the way."

"Yeah, well, so I was rubbing it around on his chest, and smelling it, and he said something about some girls tasting it. So I did. We know how it tastes the first time. I asked him why they did that. Then he told me about oral sex, as though he knew all about it. Of course he wanted me to. I had told him I wanted to do everything but, especially after he had told that boys did it too - to girls."

"A great incentive."

"Um-hmm! Especially after he said he would if I did. So I did, and he did."

"Lucky you, both of you."

"Very! Better than doing it with my fingers."

"But then you could do it better with them?"

"Oh yeah! And better for him, his fingers; he admitted that it was also his first time, both ways."

"Surprise?"

"Um-hmm. We did it a couple of times more. Hmm! Every time it looked like it could want me to."

"Hmm! Hm-hmm! A good way to keep from wanting to do more!"

"And he did too, keeping me from wanting to. More than a couple of times; parents only returned on Sunday, and my party had been Friday evening."

"That's delightful."

"We thought it was, telling each other that there was nothing wrong about it, since we hadn't gone all the way."

"And never again?"

"Hmm? You would have to ask."

"Then not, just remembering that you all were sunbathing in the nude."

"Um-hmm ..."

"'Um-hmm', what?"

"You weren't going to ask."

"Sorry, ... but you're making me curious."

"Should have just said 'no'."

"You didn't; why I'm curious.

"Of course, ... and not wrong."

"I won't ask."

Could I feel on my shoulder that her cheek was flushing? She fondled my very relaxed penis. She fondled it for a moment more and then murmured: 

"I guess I lied a little before, about being out of experience."

"With him?"

"Um-hmm. Last weekend, Saturday, she went to pick up the kids, returning on Sunday. And we were naked, as usual, with her too. My last chance to sunbathe before we came here, arriving Friday evening. Yeah, I guess from habit, we went skinny dipping, even though the sun was setting; hot day. And like on other weekends, in the morning didn't get dressed for breakfast, since we all usually immediately went out to the pool. Her tan is better than mine."

"Sunning during the week?"

"Probably. So there we were alone, my brother and I. We swam and sunned till lunch, and then were in the kitchen."

"Like that time?"

"Just like that time, and I asked him if he remembered what we had done; no asked him if he remembered my birthday party. Oh, he did; I could see that, but he tried to hide it - not his cock - just joking that he suddenly had remembered that day."

"With his cock like that?"

"Um-hmm. Shit! I hadn't been with a man in months, and his cock was sticking out, ..."

"And you grabbed it?"

"You know me better than that! I didn't grab yours."

"Just asked politely if you could hold it."

"Um-hmm, but I'll admit that I wanted to."

"His or mine?"

"His; I knew I didn't have to just grab yours."

"True. I wouldn't have complained, just been surprised. And then?"

"So we both knew what I was thinking about, and his nice cock was belying anything he said. And I didn't let him forget, telling him how good it had been, that he had done it better than anything I had by myself. Oh, I didn't tell him, but then remembered how good it had been with his finger in me, one of his as big as two of mine ..."




Bastille Day Ch. 01



"And longer."

"And callused. If he had only heard about oral sex, he sure knew what to do with his finger. Boy! Were we both surprised when I came like that!"

"Squirting?"

"Not like those female fountains in the videos, but plenty wet."

"Oooh! I'm going to like that!"

"Hm-hmm! Me too!"

"Back to last weekend, please."

"Oh! That! I reminded him how we had both been so surprised the first time he made me do that."

"Hm-hmm! Just the first time."

"Um-hmm. I think mentioning that may have been what began to overcame his resistance. Of course, I hadn't yet admitted that I wanted to sleep with him - maybe not even to myself."

"But he would have had to be denser than me not to have seen what you were getting at."

"Oh, I don't think he was - is - dense, but he's my brother."

"Didn't mean to insinuate that he is. So?"

"Till then, he had just made noncommittal noises in response to my remarks, but when I mentioned that, he had to nod, and then said that it had been better than anything he had experienced before. Yeah, he said 'better,' could have said it some other way."

"Promising."

I thought so. After lunch we returned to our deckchairs by the pool. His cock sank a little and rose again."

"Waving, invitingly to you?"

"I didn't think to describe it like that, but he must have been remembering. Finally - wet muschi - I got up and went and straddled him on his chair. Oh, he was surprised, but he couldn't deny what his cock was suggesting, and I said that I wanted to do what we hadn't that time, my birthday."

"I know something about how persuasive - delightfully persuasive - you can be. He didn't have a chance to say no, not with his cock like that."

"Oh, he tried, but it was only halfhearted. As you said, his cock was talking louder. Incest, cheating on his wife, my arguing that incest was a family thing and not cheating on his wife - not really 'another woman'."

"You won?"

"He would have had to throw me on the deck, and didn't when I moved up and put it in my muschi."

"On top, like I want."

"Me too! Oh, it was good, he was good, admitting that he wanted to, and we did."

"And everything else?"

"Of course, ... after that. No reason not to, once we really done it. After lunch on Sunday, I tried to make it easier for him, telling him that it wasn't his fault if his little sister wanted to relive her best birthday present."

"And you waited to see the others return?"

"Had to. The kid's had been promised that Aunt Marge would be there, but that was good, completely changing the subject."

"Nice. Nice to hear that an incest can be as good as the stories."

"It was, and I agree, of course. Hope it stays good. Not that we need to do it again, just that there will be no unexpected downside."

"Me too. Maybe different, more difficult between generations."

"Yeah. You don't have any children?"

"Sons, two, not a daughter."

"Avoids the question about siblings doing something."

"I sure hope so, and temptations on my part."

She fondled my - her - cock, until it be came more interested, chuckling at her success, and then asked: ,Anything else you like?"

"You? I can't think of anything else."

"Doggy is good."

"If you want. Haven't done that, but in stories and the videos it seems to be a hit. Maybe I missed something."

"Or your wife et al. did. You're right about the videos: so many guys asking the girls to show their asses. I'd have thought they would rather keep watching their pussies."

"Muschis?" 

"No, that's just mine; the others have pussies, even if they're shaven."

"Nice, that yours isn't just another one in the crowd."

"Um-hmm. Gosh, from the uploaded chat sites, one could think that half the girls in the States or Europe want to have fun showing and playing with themselves for some dick."

"Um-hmm, playing for points, but I don't mind."

"Might, if you had a daughter."

"For sure. Wonder if any - how many - of them are recognized by someone."

"Whoops! Daddy is watching porns of young girls and there she is. No mistake, in her room with all those photos on the wall."

"Hmm! Something like that. Or the ones who get pretty far along, and then say that they're going to their room, apparently sitting till then somewhere in the family area, taking off most of their clothes, with a guy's cock on their laptop. ... Does seeing one turn girls on that much?"

"Not me, but when I was their age, it might have, probably would have. And you, the girls?"

"Not any more. Hmm? If you want to know, I'd rather watch two young girls, ... not ones who wear spikes in bed."

"Yeah, that looks slutty."

"Um-hmm. Hm-hmm! Maybe I have learned something from them."

"Oooh! I hope so, if you think you have."

We both chuckled. She included my balls in her fondling of my wilting penis. My hand slid over her side and held her breast. With a nod on my shoulder, she murmured: 

"Make it feel good."

I did, and she tried to, but it seemed that my - her - cock had become too inured to respond after being held for so long. I knew that could happen from times when my fantasies had become too involved - nice, long, inventive fantasies, but counterproductive. I murmured: 

"I want it to, but you've been holding it for so long .... Hm-hmm! Has happened when I have been."

"I know what you mean; the mood sort of too extended."

"Um-hmm, something like that, even though - as I said - I want it to."

"Me too."

She continued to fondle for a few seconds and then murmured: 

"I know we've been talking about tonight, but that was before we were here, like this."

"Um-hmm, sure was. Before we knew we would be here, like this."

"But we are now."

"Um-hmm."

"We could still wait, but, ... well, I think we started here assuming that we probably wouldn't."

"Um-hmm, again."

She tilted her head back and looked up at me, still fondling my cock and balls, and said: 

"I'd like a foretaste on tonight. I really enjoy starting when it's like now. Hmm! Sort of seducing an unexpecting, maybe innocent cock and giving it a nice surprise."

"Hmm! Good thing you didn't have a younger brother."

"Hm-hm-hmm! Maybe, yes."

"Mine isn't really unexpecting, and certainly not innocent, but a little, since it ..., well, you know."

"Doesn't know that I want to taste how much it appreciates my surprise?"

"Mmmm! It won't be a surprise if you keep talking."

"Shhhh!"

She grinned and began to move down the bed, still grinning at me. As she was about to get between my legs, images from a couple POV videos popped into my head, but with erect cocks, unlike mine at the moment. Then she murmured: 

"Move around; I want to kneel on the floor. Sit up and watch."

While I did, I wondered how I deserved what was happening; a man my age about to have his favorite fantasy come true. She smiled up at me from between my legs. I snorted, feeling her hand come up under my balls, jostling them, and murmured: 

"And then I want my foretaste of your muschi."

"Mmmm! I was hoping so, ... and that you really learned a lot watching girls doing it."

"Um-hmm!"

My cock wasn't as small as it had been, as I watched her raise it to her lips, but my foreskin still almost covered its head, and then it was in her warm mouth, all of it, her nose in my hair. I could feel her breath, and feel her tongue holding my cock up against her pallet, just gently moving. So nice and warm! And feel it swell and extend further into her mouth, and feel her hum in response. After a few moments, she had to draw her head back, letting me see my full cock between her lips. Now it did look like those POVs, but I didn't like that I remembered them, especially when she looked up at me, the corners of lips smiling.

Marge - "my Marge" for the coming two weeks?! She drew her head further back, and her tongue began to explore the sensitive underside of the head of my cock. "Uhnn!" It surged, and I envisioned its full, purplish-pink head in her mouth. Better, much better than in my fantasies!

For those fortunate enough not to know, there is a world of difference between what a woman like my wife had done and what Marge was beginning to do. In my fantasies, I had assumed that it would be like what my wife did, but ending with a good orgasm. Sure, she had sucked my cock; it had felt good, of course, but I had known that she wasn't going to let me come in her mouth, that she didn't want me to, probably worried the whole time that I would and accordingly restrained in her efforts. Efforts may have been a too strong word. Frustrating, and when I once did, her reaction was not positive.

Marge had told me that she wanted me to have an orgasm - a couple of times. Just told me that she was looking forward to tasting my semen. My fantasies hadn't - couldn't - anticipate what she was doing, despite those videos. Had I missed the stories on Literotica that described in so arousing detail what went on in a woman's mouth when she was sucking a cock, what a man was experiencing?

Damn! I was about to come already, so soon! But I didn't; Marge drew her head back, and my cock sprang up, bobbing and throbbing, precum oozing from the slit in its now pinkish-purple head. She smiled up at me again and murmured: 

"Almost too much?"

"God, yes! You can't imagine how arousing that is."

"My brother tried to tell me - after he gave up worrying."

"He had to; couldn't think about anything else."

"Something like that."

She licked up the precum, making my cock twitch wildly, and snorted, remarking: 

"Nice that nature does that and lets me know that it is getting close."

"Hmm! Real nice; I was afraid it was going to be all over before I wanted it to be."

"Me too."

She grinned and rubbed the base of my cock behind my still tight scrotum. Then her fingernails scratched it and caught a wrinkle, pulling on the skin. Eventually the skin was all slack again. Of course, my cock had begun to sink, hardly moving when the tip of her tongue licked the last drop of precum from its slit. My balls were hanging loose on her fingers. She looked down and jostled them gently and murmured: 

"I like to suck them too."

"Mmm! No one ever did that."

"I wonder how guys shave them."

"I wouldn't dare try."

She stooped lower and pushed one between her lips, her warm mouth closing gently around it. As she caressed it with her tongue, sucking slightly, another POV image popped up, entirely unwanted. What I was watching was so much better: my cock brushing her cheek while I enjoyed an entirely unexpected new sensation. I moaned in appreciation. When she released it, she glanced up with a smile, and then the other one was in her mouth. I moaned again. This time, she pulled on it, seeming reluctant to release it, but then it almost popped from between her lips. She grinned up at me with a snort, obviously enjoying herself. Her hand found my cock, raising it up, and she murmured: 

"Now the best part."

"Mmmm!" I responded with a nod and only a slight smile.

I was too full of anticipation to do more; it was going to be so good again, and better, coming in her mouth. She nodded, also with only a slight smile, as though she understood my anticipation. She looked down, about to let her lips slip around my now less stiff cock, and then looked up again and asked softly: 

"You want to taste it?"

"Mmm, yes, a first kiss sealed with semen."

She nodded with chuckle, smiling, and then my cock was back in her mouth. It was every bit as good as I remembered, and better with my anticipation how it was going to be when I came. When I moaned, she nodded, humming in response, an additional arousing sensation. It was indescribably good! When that word occurred to me, I understood why no author could adequately describe it.

We exchanged several moans and hums, my cock twitching strongly in her mouth. And then again, before I wanted, my cock wanted - had - to come. It had been wanting to have an orgasm since the night before, and hadn't had one the previous night on the plane. Oh God, it was going to be good!

My hips twitched and I gave a louder moan, and then a groan, and then my hips thrust forward. With gasp and grunt, I came, spurting like never before, it seemed. She gave a deep moan and then lesser ones each time a spurt of my semen escaped my throbbing cock. 

She recognized when to stop arousing me, but still doing it a little, as her tongue sloshed my semen in her mouth, brushing the now overly sensitive underside of my cock. I moaned with a sigh, and she nodded with an "uhn-hnn." Then she sucked slightly and slowly let it slip from between her lips. She looked up at me with smile. 

It had to be a "cock-sucking" smile. I didn't use such expressions in my fantasies, but, of course, they always ended with my orgasm. I could see that she was still savoring my semen, moving her jaw with closed lips. As she rose up, she smirked with twinkling eyes. Her arms went over my shoulders, and mine, around under her, as she rose and pushed me back on the bed, and then our mouths met. She waited until mine opened, and then her tongue and more of my semen than I had ever tasted slid into my mouth.

Our tongues caressed eagerly, enjoying the slippery film as long as we could, but it was sliding down in my throat, and I had to swallow. There was still a taste of it, however, when my tongue thrust, and she sucked it into her mouth, and our tongues continued to tease and caress.

Finally, we had to come up for air, and I was suddenly more aware of her breasts and the rest of her body pressing on mine. She raised her head and grinned. This time I didn't mind thinking it was a cock-sucking grin.

"Good?" she asked.

"You know it was good! I never came so good. Maybe I shouldn't say that, but to lower your expectations."

"It was!" She licked her lips, really a cock-sucking grin.

"Maybe since it's been wanting to since last night, and on the plane."

"Me too, not on the plane."

"Worrying that I might be fat?"

"Hoping you wouldn't be."

"Hm-hmm! I started doing situps and pushups."

"Hmm! How many pushups?"

"Got up to thirty."

"But wanting me on top?"

"Just in case you were a missionary."

"Hm-hmm! That's good, a missionary reading forums on Literotica.

"Well, for every eventuality, maybe the first time, not anticipating that you - whoever - would want to talk about it first."

"Nor I. I would have let you, if we hadn't talked."

"Unlikely with you."

"Um-hmm, but if you been the silent type, and I had had to seduce you without words, I would have let you do it that way - the first time."

"But then talked?"

"And not have sucked his cock first."

"My good luck!"

"Mine too!"

She lowered her head and started another good kiss, rocking her hips down. My hands naturally slid down to hold her ass. It rocked a couple of more times, and then we came up for air again. She murmured: 

"I hope your tongue is that good somewhere else."



Bastille Day Ch. 02



Older man  younger woman pussy licking group nudism french nudist colony nudist beach
cock sucking tasting each other

She lowered her head and started another good kiss, rocking her hips down.  My hands naturally slid down to hold her ass.  It rocked a couple of more times, and then we came up for air again.  She murmured:  
“I hope your tongue is that good somewhere else.”

Before I could reply, she was clambering up over me.  I hoped so too, and said as much, as she got her knees past my shoulders.  I wasn't surprised, having enjoyed too many videos of face-sitting, just had never done it, never licked a pussy that was turned that way.  I looked up at her, and she down at me with an encouraging smile, and then her pussy  - her muschi -  was on my mouth.

I had wanted to see it first  - another time.  And it already tasted good.  Now I didn't mind that I recalled the videos, thankful for the images of girls licking each other's pussy and how they did, remembering that after seeing the first couple, I had recognized that I probably hadn't been doing it right for my wife and the couple of short-time women-friends.  I also hadn't anticipated that I might ever have the opportunity to try to do it better.  Sure, hoping, but not expecting that it could really happen, and then not with someone who promised that if I did it good enough, her pussy  - Marge's muschi -  would flood my face.

What a delightful challenge!  Of course, she had a well-developed clitoris, if she could come like that.  Maybe that wasn't true; I couldn't remember the others.  But if she could come like that and wanted to, and I did it right, …!

I tried, and Marge encouraged me with words and rocks of her pelvis.  I opened my eyes once and saw that she was holding her breasts.  I wanted to suck them  - another time, like getting to see her muschi.  Not both at the same time.  Between more words of encouragement, she began to moan, and I hummed in response, hoping it felt as arousing as her moans had for my cock.  It seemed so.


This story is really about the group experience, starting in the third person, and then I let slip that it was also a first person experience  - for the most obvious reason.  She  - Marge -  had sucked my cock like no one ever had before, and now I was licking her pussy  - her muschi, as she liked to call it.  And I was doing everything I could to give her an orgasm, hoping that she would flood my face with her love juice.  She had told me that it could happen.

I can't brag.  She did, but only by encouraging me and from my experience watching videos of girls giving each other orgasms.  But she did!  Her love juice running down in my mouth and on my chin.  I can't brag, but I was very pleased with my success, the first time I had given a woman an orgasm that way, and then so good.

She dropped forward on the bed, turning her muschi up from my mouth, still gasping and whimpering.  I hadn't known how good a woman's orgasm could be, quite chagrined that my wife's never had been like that, despite our having two sons.  I rubbed her ass, licking my lips for a last taste of her love juice.  

“Oh shit!  That was good!  You did that good!” she murmured after a deep breath.

I was almost proud at her confirmation that it had been so good; I owed it to her for what she had done and in respect that we would be spending many more nights together.  I had to hope and try to be an equal partner.

She began to move back down over me.  Her breasts passed my face, and then hers appeared, and then we both felt my aroused cock touch her between her legs.  She snorted and rocked her hips, moving back a little and pressing it down on me.  I didn't think she could want to do anything more, but she rocked her hips, rubbing her muschi on my cock, and where it felt good.  It surged.  It couldn't twitch, since it was pressed down on me.

She looked down at me and snorted softly with a slight, wry smile.  I guess that I also snorted, returning her smile.  She snorted again and murmured:  
“To hell with waiting till tonight.  I want to fuck; put it in me.”

I was, of course, surprised that she immediately wanted fuck  - didn't like to hear that word either -  but it was the only appropriate one.  And my cock obviously was suggesting that it want to, too.  
I reached down, and she raised her hips, and it slipped very easily into her very wet muschi, tighter than the ones I remembered.  Her hips rocked down, making me moan, and she gave a satisfied sounding sigh as she relaxed on me, then licked around my mouth with a snort and murmured:  
“Oh, it was good, real good, but a cock in my muschi …  It was there, and my muschi wanted it.”
“My cock did too, a little to my surprise.  God it feels good, your muschi.”
“Your cock too.”

She chuckled, and her muschi squeezed my cock.  
“Mmmm!  Even better!”
“For me too,” and she did it again.

I rocked my hips up, and she nodded, but then murmured:  
“I want to sit up, have to get my legs up on the bed.”

We rocked our hips from one side to the other, managing to stay coupled as she drew her legs up, both then chuckling at our success.  She sat up with a pleased moan and smile as my cock went deeper, pressing against the front of her vagina.  I returned her smile and made my cock twitch, and her muschi squeezed it again.  We chuckled again, and I murmured:  
“I had forgotten how tight a young pussy is.”
“Mmm, thanks for the 'young'.  My brother said something similar.”
“As lucky as I am.  …  What do you want to do?  Anything you want.”
“Not just this,” and her muschi tightened again.
“But that's good.  I may just close my eyes and pretend this is all a wet dream.”
“If you can hold my breasts, while I play with myself.”
“Oooh, of course, anything you want.”

We grinned.  I reached up, and her hand slid down her stomach, her fingers creeping between our hair.  As I played with her nipples, I felt her knuckles move on my pelvis, pressing on it as her fingertips began to rub.  She hummed, not yet an aroused moan, but audibly pleased with what her fingers were doing.  I was too, her muschi squeezing my cock every now and then.

Until I started watching videos, it had never occurred to me that a woman would want to help arouse herself when she had a cock in her pussy.  But why not?  I had told her that I like the idea of the woman being in control, and it was very pleasantly arousing to feel her muschi responding, maintaining a level that I thought could go on for ever, making my cock twitch in response.  

I hadn't closed my eyes, but saw that hers were half closed as she began to moan.  And then her hips began to rock.  Oooh, more arousing!  If I hadn't already come so good, I thought, I would be about to now.  Had she planned all this?  Done it like this with her brother?  I moaned, and she nodded with another one of her moans, her fingers moving as fast as possible, her eyes now clenched close.

Suddenly they opened, wide, and she dropped down over me and demanded softly:  
“Suck them, chew them!”

She shifted her shoulders and pressed a nipple down in my mouth.  I didn't really chew it, but did everything else I could with my tongue and lips and teeth, as my hands slid down to her ass.  When she offered me her other breast, she murmured:  
“Like in the shower.”

My fingers crept further on her taut ass, into her crevice, finding the base of her spine and then the soft spot below it.  She nodded with an encouraging  - maybe insistent -  “uhn-hnn!”  Her asshole contracted when my finger rubbed over it, and she approved with another “uhn-hnn!”  It relaxed and contracted again, and my fingertip was on its center.  When it contracted again, it felt like it wanted to draw my fingertip in.  It pressed, and it relaxed, and the next time it contracted, it was holding it.  “Uhnn!” she responded with a nod.  Anything she wanted!  Like in the videos ….  

Clutching my finger and my cock!  She gave a great moan and began to move her hips.  After a few short strokes up and down on my cock, that was twitching in response to her clutches, she shoved me back and demanded:  “Fuck!” and found my mouth with hers, her tongue fucking in my mouth.

Our hips slapped together.  I had thought that my situps were just to tighten my stomach, but now I realized that they were for fucking like this:  pumping my hips up to thrust my cock in her muschi, as hers slapped down; my cock throbbing as her vagina tried to milk it, and her asshole drew my finger deeper.  We were both groaning and panting.  God, it had never been like this!

I came, and she came, her warm muschi juice wet on my pubic hair and running down between my legs.  We both collapsed, only our heaving stomachs rising and falling against each other as we drew deep breaths and sighed with moans.

When I could think again, I was a little proud  - hell, a lot proud -  that I had been able to satisfy a much younger woman, and one who had so much more experience than I had; that I had been able to do everything that she had wanted.  

Slowly, our breathing returned to normal, more conscious of each others breathing.  We chuckled, when we coordinated that one of us exhaled when the other inhaled.  My cock was still in her muschi, but about to slip out, when it suddenly occurred to me that she was young enough to get pregnant.  I hadn't had to worry about that in years.  At that moment, I probably should have said something about how wonderful it had been, but I said what was on my mind:  
“Oh, you're on the pill?”

She nodded with a snort and replied:  
“Should have asked before, no.”
“No!”
“Scared you?  Sorry, not the pill, an IUD.”
“Hmm!  No time to ask, not when you were telling me that you wanted to fuck.”
“True.  And we sure did!”
“Um-hmmm!   Better than I thought I could.”
“As good as I hoped, as good as I wanted.”
“Better than I ever hoped.”

She nodded and kissed me.  My cock slipped out, and we snorted, and chuckled when we felt more liquid slip out.  She began to move off me, murmuring:  
“Before I get a cramp in my legs.”
“And then a real nap.”
“Um-hmmm!”

We got up and washed, just smiling and smirking at each other, then agreeing that we had to go.  She sat down on the toilet and then smirked again and gestured at the washbasin.”

“Like I did this morning,” I responded, turning to use it.
“Oh, you just flushed for effect?”
“Um-hmm, we didn't know each other so well this morning.”
“We sure do now.”
“Um-hmm.  Imagine how it would have been if we had just kept talking.”
“Oooh, fun!  Hm-hmm!  But I would have jumped in your bed before we talked much longer.”
“Hmm!  But we weren't in it  - I wasn't.”
“You would have been; I would have taken care of that.”
“You did.”
“Hm-hmm!  And you did!”

We snickered, while she wiped her muschi, and I rinsed my cock and the washbasin.  We returned to my bed and lay down, like we had before.  How long before, I wondered, not looking at my watch.  This time she didn't ask if she could hold my cock, and we were silent for a few moments.  I recalled seeing my yellow stream flowing in the washbasin, and asked  - a little to my surprise:  
“Natural champagne?”
“Hmm?  Oh?  In the bathroom?  Hm-hmm!  No, I haven't.  Why did you ask?  Have you?”
“Just thought of it, seeing it.  Don't know why I asked.”
“Have you?  Doesn't seem like you would have.”
“Hm-hmm.  A couple of surprising videos.”
“Haven't seen them.  And …?”
 “Hmm.  Saw them and was reminded that in India people do, their own.”
“Really?”
“Um-hmm, part of Indian medicine or whatever.”
“Hmm?  And …?”
“Well, one night, watching videos   - too many -  and drinking beer  - maybe too many -  had to go a couple of times, and was.  It was pretty white.”
“Hm-hmm!  We women seldom see it, of course.”
“Um-hmm.  So  - not quite sober -  I just grabbed the glass from the washbasin and tasted it.”
“Hm-hmm!  You surprise me.  And …?”
“Just mildly salty  - after so many beers.  Probably different when its more yellow.”
“Hm-hm-hmm!  Really?”
“A whole lot less strange than what you like to taste.”
“Hmm?  Wouldn't be difficult.  Hm-hmm!  You want to?  Want me to?”
“No, I just thought of it, something to say.”
“Hmm?  'Something to say'?  If you say so.  Maybe.”
“I wasn't suggesting it.”
“Why not, … maybe?  If you have?”
“No reason for you to.”
“Something new.”
“Nap?”
“Um-hmm.”  

I rolled towards her, and we got comfortable with our arms around each other and our legs overlapping.  We kissed lightly and were silent, soon dozing.

More than just dozing, it was much later when we woke up, the sun in the west, the light in the room different.  I think the noise from an airplane awakened us.  We rubbed each other's back with soft hums, opening our eyes and smiling at each other.

“Good morning,” she murmured.
“Good evening.”
“Oh, yes.  Nice.  Funny, thinking it was morning.”
“Jet lag.”
“Or 'cause we cheated, not waiting till tonight.”
“Maybe, enough sun and fresh air and exertion for it to be the next morning.”
“Hm-hmm!  But it isn't.”
“All the better.  What do you think the others are doing?”
“Nothing better.  Will we find out?”
“Pretty sure James and Kathleen have.”
“Um-hmm.  Will be interesting.”
“Um-hmm, a reason to go to the bar before dinner.”
“For sure!”

We grinned and got up, and got dressed.  This time I didn't wear underpants.  She snorted with a grin.  She had to brush her hair and put on lipstick, and then we were on our way to the bar, holding hands in the elevator.  As the door opened, she smirked at me and asked:  
“You want them to think we have?”
“Only if you do.”

She squeezed my hand, and we went to the bar, finding a few of the group.  A couple of them smiled, and we smiled back.  I wondered if the others were being more tactful, perhaps James and Kathleen, or had the others not smiled like that because they weren't so compatible yet with their roommates?  And those not yet at the bar, still in their rooms, not just taking showers?

We got our drinks and joined the discussion of how the others had spent the afternoon, of course, nothing about what might have happened in their rooms, although someone's remarking that they had watched the Tour de France on TV could have been an excuse for their not being on the beach.

Soon others joined us, one couple who had had too much sun, letting me wonder if they had avoided going back to their room before they could just get ready for dinner.  The two young men didn't join us.  Someone suggested that they were still scouting the field.  Sans-culotte and his friend were still with the two women.

Then we went to dinner, not all attempting to sit together, but Marge and I sat with the friend of Sans-culotte and one of the women.  He didn't have a Literotica user name and introduced himself again:  “Étienne, you can call me Stephan.”  As we were returning to our table from the buffet, two young girls approached a nearby table.  When Marge heard them speak German, she went over and spoke to them.  They seemed pleased, to be spoken to in their language.  She saw our two young men enter the dining room and spoke with the girls.  They smiled and nodded, and she beckoned the men over.   They also seemed pleased, and we heard them introduce themselves, and the girls replied in English. 

Marge returned to our table with a smile, telling that the girls were students and that she had explained that the young men were with our group.  During the meal, we occasionally glanced over and saw that they all seemed quite happy with each other's company.  

At our table, we noticed that Stephan and the woman seemed to be better friends now, wondering that they weren't sitting with their relative roommates, who at another table also seemed to be enjoying each other's company.  After a second glass of wine  - and then two drinks at the bar -  she glanced at him with wink and said that the four of them had moved to a suite in the hotel.  They didn't mind our smiles, nodding in response.  He explained that the hotel had given them the suite for less than the price of two rooms, since it had requests for two standard rooms.  

We congratulated them.  Marge and I glancing at each other with smiles, and we all then smirked  with chuckles.

After dinner, we went for a walk, holding hands and chuckling about each other's speculations about the other sets of roommates.  Suddenly she chuckled and whispered:  
“How does it feel without underpants?”
“Hm-hmmm!  Great.  Don't look, but it feels like my balls are hanging down to my knees.”
“Oooh!  Really?”
“Just feels like it, thank you.”

We chuckled and then stopped at a bar and had a Pernod.  As we returned to our hotel, we agreed that it was too early to go to bed, not without an exchange of smirks.  In the bar, we ordered a glass of wine, slightly surprised to find Kathleen and James there.  They both grinned, having seen us holding hands as we entered the bar.  We nodded, and joined them with our wine, and all raised our glasses and drank, smiling again.  When Marge held my hand again, James nodded with a smile and murmured:  
“Like us?”
“I hope so,” I replied.

Marge squeezed and moved our hands with a nod and smile.  Kathleen smirked slightly and rubbed his back, then chuckled and remarked softly:  
“Can't get any closer to a Harvard man.”

We nodded with smiles, and he put his arm around her with an indulgent smile, adding:  
“Or closer to South Boston.”

We all chuckled and drank again.  Then we told that Sans-culotte and Stephan were sharing a suite with the two women, and they enjoyed hearing that, admitting that they had wondered if the women were lesbian.  Maybe just bi, we all agreed.  They then told that they had seen Marge introduce our two young men to the girls and enjoyed hearing that she could speak German with them.  Marge snorted and said that she had told the girls that they could complain to one of our group if the guys didn't behave themselves.  We all snickered at the question of what the girls might think was misbehaving.  

We finished our drinks and with grins agreed that it was time to go to bed.  In the elevator together, holding hands, we all smirked, and then wished each other good night, when our floor was reached.  Still holding hands, we chuckled and went to our room.  

As we undressed, Marge grinned again when she saw that I didn't have underpants on.  Naked, we went to the bathroom, going as we had before.  She snickered and asked:  
“Natural champagne?”
“Not after red wine and Pernod.”
“Hmm?  Maybe not.”

We grinned and brushed our teeth and went to bed, mine, of course.  We curled up together like we had for our nap.  I was pretty sure that more sex could be disappointing, but since we had talked about it so much, I felt obligated to show my willingness.  Besides, it was nice to hold her breast, and I did.  She snorted and said:  
“I just said that I wanted to sleep in your bed, nothing about touching each other or doing anything else.”
“Thank goodness!  I wasn't sure.”  I took my hand away.”
“I didn't mean it that seriously.”
“Want me to hold it?  I do, feels good.”
“Um-hmm, even if my nipple doesn't pop out.”
“I just want to hold it.  Hm-hmm!  Almost as much as I like to hold my cock.”
“Oooh!  I don't want that; nothing for me to do.”
“Only almost.”
“Oh, that's all right.  More comfortable if I turn over.”
“Um-hmm.” 

She did, with my arm around her, and my hand found her breast again.  She clasped hers over mine, and I curled up closer behind her, squeezing her breast, and we said good night.

When I rolled back during the night, she followed me, her arm sliding over me.  I pleasantly recalled where and with whom I was in bed.  I rolled further, on my other side, and her arm drew us closer, her warm body against my back, and I fell asleep again.

I slowly woke up from a nice dream, something about my cock, of course.  No wonder, her arm was resting on my waist, and she was holding it. When I snorted, she murmured:  




Bastille Day Ch. 02



“Awake?  Good morning.”
“Good morning, very pleasantly awake.  You can't imagine what I was dreaming.  Did you find it in your sleep?”
“No, but when I did, it already wanted to be held.”
“Um-hmm, but you know what that suggests.”
“Mmmm!  That it doesn't just want to be held?”
“Oh, it wants to be  - most of the time, but ….”
“I was afraid of that.  Me too, now I have to, too.”

We chuckled and got up.  She chuckled again as she watched me hold it down to go in the washbasin, remarking:  
“You weren't drinking a lot of beer last night.”
“Nor were you.  At home, I usually go in the shower in the morning.”
“Hm-hmm!  I always just plump down on the toilet first.  Want to see too?”

I smirked with nod, but then remarked:  
“But then you'll probably have to wash your feet.”
“Oh, yeah.  Anyway.  If I stand at the high end of the tub, ….”

She did, smirking at me for a moment, and then we watched her stream arch out, the same color as mine, of course.  She gave me a wry smile.  As it began to die down, she leaned forward, supporting herself on the hand bar on the wall, managing not to drip on her feet.  She jerked her hips a couple times to try to shake off the last drops, snorting at me with a grin.  I gave her my hand to help her stand up and step out of the tub.

“Want me to wash?” she asked, obviously implying that we might do something.
“No.  I couldn't imagine why you asked.”
“Hmmmm!  But I could.  Remember what you said in bed?”
“Oh, that?  That it liked to be held?”
“'Most of the time,' and not just held.”
“Hm-hmm!  True.”
“Sure you don't want me to wash?”
“I won't mind.  Hm-hmm!  Of course, right now could still be an exception to 'most of the time'.”

She smirked and replied:  
“You're being difficult, making it hard for me.”

We both snickered at her choice of words.  I replied:  
“I thought I was trying not to.”
“Just trying, I hope.  If we don't, all the day on the beach we're going to be wishing we had, you know how.”
“Embarrassing.”
“Only for you.  I'll just grin and tell you what I wished we had done before breakfast.”
“That's unfair!”
“Yes. Going naked in public suggests new forms of seduction.”
“Hmm!  More like blackmail.  And you could cheat on the beach, and tell me what you were hoping to do after our shower.”
“Oh, good idea!”
“Shouldn't have mentioned it.”
“No, but I won't if we do now.  Promise.”
“Now you're trying to make it hard for me.”
“Um-hmm!” she grinned, adding:  “the best way I know how.”
“Ooooh!  Like that?  I'll risk your cheating.”

We chuckled with grins and returned to my bed.  She immediately lay down with her feet at the head of the bed, and I joined her.  We rolled together, drawing our thighs up under each other's head.  

Of course, I tasted a few drops of her urine, but then I was tasting something better, and she was making it hard for me, as she had said:  “the best way I know how,” indescribably good.  She couldn't lick the most sensitive part of my cock, but her finger in my asshole made up for that, and mine was in hers again, to her obvious delight.  

Many minutes later, we rolled apart, my face again all wet.  After several satisfied sounding sighs from both of us, a Bible verse suddenly occurred to me.  I snorted and quoted it:    
“And the evening and the morning were the second day.”
“Hm-hm-hmm!  Genesis.  And the third day?”
“As I remember, just plants and trees, so you can forget about anything that is animal, hasn't been created yet.”
“Forget, with all the naked flesh on the beach?”
“Just a figment of your prescient imagination.”
“Hm-hmm!  Already populating paradise with hundreds of persons.”
“That's not in Genesis.”

We both chucked.  She fondled my flaccid cock, and I fondled her breast.  She snorted and remarked:  
“Just figments of our imagination.”
“Um-hmm.  Shower, breakfast?”

We got up, smiling at each other as we went to the bathroom, and enjoyed a fairly unarousing shower together.  We dressed.  As we were leaving the room, she glanced back at our beds and remarked:  
“I guess housekeeping is accustomed to seeing that both beds were used and then that just one of them is.”
“In all the other rooms of our group, I hope.”
“Um-hmm.”

In the dining room, only  Sans-culotte and Stephan and their new friends were already there.  We sat at the adjoining table, greeting each other, and they included us in their conversation about its seeming that everyone in the group was getting along well.  We agreed, exchanging smiles, and they did too, all of us nodding.  

Sans-culotte had never introduced himself with his real name, even in the email correspondence.  Marge asked why.  He glanced around, checking that he couldn't be overheard, and replied softly that he worked in government ministry, that his name appeared occasionally in the media, but that his face wasn't known.  The women nodded, as though they had asked the same question, maybe having received the same answer, or perhaps not, agreeing not to reveal his name.  Marge nodded and said that his Literotica user name was most appropriate, and we all nodded.

Then we saw the German students at the buffet, and that our two young men also appeared, apparently having agreed when to meet again.  The others remarked that it looked like they had found each other.  Marge explained that she had introduced them, that the girls were German. The others were pleased, admitting that they all had wondered how the two guys would get along in the presence of mostly couples.  

Stephan and Sans-culotte agreed, but told that from their experience, that usually worked itself out.  The women snorted with smiles, nodding.  Since we all seem so comfortable with the situation, I ventured to say to the women:  
“I guess we were all wondering a little that you two immediately agreed to share a room.”

They glanced at each other, snorting, and one replied:  
“Not 'immediately', after a couple of emails.

The other one nodded with a slight smirk and added:
“We know what you probably mean.  We decided not to risk it with some man.”
“Not that we would have minded if it had been you,” the other added.
“But, well, after more than a couple of emails, we agreed that we thought we could enjoy each other's company.”
“If we had to,” the other added.

They both nodded with smirks, and Sans-culotte and Stephan smiled with nods, one remarking:  
“Only one night.”

The women snorted and nodded, then glancing at each other, and one murmured:  
“We did.”

The other one nodded slightly, maybe blushing.  Marge remarked:  
“I would have, too.  Why not?  But I risked it.”

She gave me a smile, and they all smiled, and we changed the subject, agreeing that we were lucky that the weather was so nice.  Eventually the other members of our group came to breakfast.  After another cup of coffee, we got up, agreeing that we see each other before dinner.  

There had been no agreement about meeting after breakfast, and that agreement indicated that we were all on our own for the rest of the day.  Marge and I returned to our room and changed for the beach.  She had brought a couple of books to read:  “in case you turned out to be a real bore.”  I snorted and replied:  
“I did my best to be a good borer.”

“Oh, you did!  I think I can stand you're being boring like that.”
“Stand?”
“Hm-hmm!  Maybe not.”

We grinned and she showed me her books:  “Josefine Mutzenbacher – Die Lebensgeschicht  Eine Wienerische Dirne, Von Ihr selbst Erzählt” and “Fear of Flying.” I snorted, remembering that the book by Erika Jong was about sex, and remarked:  
“Erika Jong, in case I was a complete bore?  And the other?”
“Hm-hmm!  I was hoping even better:  Josefine Mutzenbacher – the lifestory of a Viennese whore, told by herself.”
“Oooh!  Bedtime reading?”
“If you were a complete bore.”
“Or maybe to let me know what you were thinking about.”
“Um-hmm, that occurred to me too.”
“Too late; I already know.”
“My  - our -  good luck.”
“Very, but you want to read them on the beach?”
“If there's nothing else to do.”
“Not the way you might be thinking.  Remember, you promised.”
“Oh, okay.  I can find an English or German crossword puzzle.”
“Better idea.”

We grinned and I agreed:  
“German for you, English for me.”
“Hmm!  Sound like an old couple's day on the beach.”
“That wasn't flattering.”
“Sorry, didn't mean it like that, only the second day.”
“I don't think it will be.”

We smiled and with her beach towels went down and on the beach.  It seemed that our group had spread out more, and we also move further from where we had been the previous day.  After spreading sunlotion on each other, we lay down.  She shoved the English book over to me with a snort, and we both began to read.

I had already read “Fear of Flying,” years ago, but in her company and surrounded by other nude couples  - and some attractive single girls -  it was new again.  I noticed that Marge had stopped reading and was thumbing through the pages of the book.  After a glance at the nearest single girls, most of them with another girl, I glanced over and asked:  
“Not as good as you hoped?”
“Not yet.”
“That's cheating.”
“I know.  Hm-hmm!  You've been looking at the girls.”
“Of course, if they want to let me.”

She looked around with a snort and replied:  
“Shameless, showing their pussies like that.”
“I like yours better, your muschi.”
“You had to say that.  Hmm!  She really wants someone to see hers.”

I looked in the direction that she was and saw a girl with her thighs spread.  They hadn't been like that the last time I looked.  I snorted and agreed:  
“Sure does.  Not nicer that yours, but, well, I have to admit that is is a very attractive young pussy.”
“Hmm!  You're too honest.”
“Maybe, but I said yours was nicer.”
“But hers is shaved.”
“I did notice that.  … But I like that yours isn't, that it doesn't look like you want to show it to everyone.”
“Hmm!  You almost saved yourself.”
“Just almost?”
“No, just enough.”
“Thanks, so I can still admit that hers is pretty.”
“Oh, it is; have to admit that, myself.”
“Of course, I have just seen ones on video, … young ones.”
“Me too.”
“Only?  At breakfast you suggested that you wouldn't mind …, well, having a female roommate.”
“Did I?  Just to make them feel more comfortable .  Maybe not one of them.”
“Hmm?  But someone else, … with a pussy like that girl's?”
“Wouldn't you want to lick it?”
“And  - if you don't mind too much -  put my cock in it.  Should I want to lick it?  Gladly, but why did you think of that?”
“Hmm?  Just looked like it would be good to lick.”
“Very!  But you said that.”

I glanced over at her, but she didn't return my glance.  I thought for a moment about how to phrase my next remark, then saying:  
“I wouldn't mind if you wanted to, … also wanted to. “

She still didn't reply.  I thought that it would have been easy for her to say something in response, but she didn't.    After a moment, I did look over at her and asked softly, but directly:  
“Have you?  I wouldn't mind.  Why not?  As much as I enjoy licking yours  - your muschi -   just dreaming about licking another one.”

Marge didn't turn her head.   I looked back at the girl's pussy.  Was it now a little more open, aroused because she had noticed that we had been looking at it?   I heard Marge snort softly, and glanced back over at her, seeing her nod slightly.  Then she snorted again with a slight smile, still not looking at me, then after a moment replying:  
“Since you don't mind, yes, … a couple.”
“Nice.  I don't just not mind, like that you have.”
“Surprised?”
“Not really, maybe from seeing too many videos, sort of assume that was easy to get the idea, easier than for boys.”
“I hope so!  Yeah, I think it probably is.”
“At least I was right about that.  I'm not going to ask.”  
“Hm-hmm!  But you're curious.”
“Of course.”
“We talk about everything else.”
“Time to turn over?”
“Yes, and  - hm-hmm! -  you can show her your cock.”
“She'll have to sit up to look, and there probably better ones for her to look at, at least, unaccompanied ones.”
“True, just the last of what you said.”

We sat up and turned to face the sun, away from the girl we had been looking at, but also now at facing the water.  Marge looked around, then said:  
“Aren't those our two young men in the water, the ones cavorting with the two girls?”

They were too far away to really identify them, and I couldn't remember the girls faces, but I thought she was right, agreeing:  
“Not sure, but I think you're right.  Looks like you found them the right company.”
“Um-hmm, nice if they hit it off.”
“Like that?  Are German girls 'like that'?”
“Like what?  Willing to have some fun?  If they come here, probably.”
“Hmm!  Like all of us.”
“Um-hmm.”

We dropped back on our elbows, enjoying the sun in silence.  I didn't have to look to know that warm sun was making my cock as large as it could be without becoming aroused, resting on my very loose sack.  After a few minutes, I asked:  
“Does the sun feel as good on your muschi as it does on me?”
“Hmm!  I hope so, that it feels as good on you.”
“Nice.”
“But we weren't going to talk about that  - my promise.”
“Just the question, hoping it did.  Why did you bring those books, not maybe “Fifty shades of Grey” or something more current?”
“I had read it, didn't finish it; I'm not into all that stuff.  And it would have been too obviously suggestive.”
“The others aren't?”
“Didn't have show them to you  - to my roommate -  if I didn't want to suggest anything.  I could have read the German one for fun, if he asked, telling him it was about something else.”
“Hmm!  And if he had known some German?”
“Either I would have liked that, or  - again -  I wouldn't have had to let him see me reading it.”
“Where did you learn your German?”
“Probably could have at home, but didn't; took it as my foreign language, which pleased my parents, and then as my major in college, junior year abroad in Heidelberg.”
“Oh, of course:  'muschi'.”
“Um-hmm.”

She gave me a smile, and then snorted and added:  
“Not just mine.”
“He slept with other girls?  Well, of course, but girls you knew, also junior year abroad?”

She shook her head with a smirk and replied:  
“Not him,” and raised her hand and pointed at herself.
“Oh, of course, … well, not of course, but …”
“Like you were curious before.”
“I didn't ask.”
“No, but I don't mind telling, already admitted it, and we have to talk about something.”
“Not if you don't want to.”
“Why not?  First time.  She had already been at Colby College, Colby-Sawyer in New Hampshire.  Lesbian?  No, bi; not enough men up there.  Hm-hmm!  Actually not yet muschis, before we slept with German students, … only a couple.”
“It did sound like it could have been several.”
“'A couple' doesn't have to be just two.”

We both smirked, nodding, and I raised my eyebrows, suggesting that she continue.
“So we did.  Maybe she talked to others, don't know, but we did.  Of course, I knew what to do, and she sure did.”
“Hopefully not better than the German students.”
“Hmm!  Only one of them, and it was only once.”
“He didn't have much experience?”
“Um-hmm.”

We were silent for a while, looking around, no longer seeing our two young men and the girls.  Then Marge spoke:  
“After that, back at college, well, it was easy, just a couple, really only two.  Why not?  I wondered if freshman and sophomore years I had not understood what girls were suggesting.  The boys didn't do it, and I wasn't going to suggest it.”
“Suggest you had more experience than they had.”
“Something like that.”

We smiled at each other and were silent again, soaking up the sun, and I was again aware of its warm rays on my cock and balls, enjoying the nice feeling with the confidence that it didn't have to become arousing.  I already had enough experience with that to be utterly comfortable lying nude, surrounded by others who were nude   - but maybe not,  if I kept thinking about it.  Marge distracted me, suggesting with go in the water.

This time we didn't have to sidestroke to maintain eye-contact, and I showed that I could crawl, hoping that she would be a little impressed with my physical fitness.  She kept right up with me, however, which I liked just as much.  We stopped after about a hundred yards and caught our breath, smiling at each other.  Then she turned from me and dove under the water, coming up with butterfly strokes.  I was impressed, then thinking that it would nice to that from the front, seeing her bare breasts maybe.  

As though she had read my thoughts, after several strokes she stood up, grinning at me, and then dove in again, butterflying back towards me.  It was nice to watch.  I told her so, that it had been just what I had been hoping to see.  She grinned again and replied:  
“It felt good, and then that also occurred to me.  Probably wasn't the best style; I was trying to make them come up out of the water.”
“Thanks.  Must have been strenuous.   Want to walk back?”

We returned, looking at the other people on the beach, recognizing a few from the group.  We only noticed our young men, when one of the girls waved to us.  The one with perky breasts had waved at us, gesturing for us to join them.  The other one had fuller breasts, both shaven.  They introduced themselves:  Petra  (perky breasts) and Anna.  We introduced ourselves, and they all made space for us on their towels.  All of them immediately thanked Marge for having suggested that they sit together at dinner the night before, smiling at each other.  It didn't look like they had paired off.  They asked Marge about her German, and she told them, glancing at me with a smile when she mentioned Heidelberg.  The girls were friends from school, now at different universities, but together again for their vacation, their second one together.  Anna smirked slightly and explained:  
“Last year, we were at the Atlantic, near Bordeaux, not quite like here.”
“Hope our parents don't go on internet,” Petra added:  “and get the wrong idea about here.”

We all chuckled, and Anna remarked:  
“We've already planned what we can tell about sightseeing,” eliciting more chuckles.
“But we'll tell that we met two nice Americans and could practice out English,” Petra added, smiling at the men, who nodded and returned her smile, one of them remarking:  
“And, of course, we're looking forward to accompanying you on your sightseeing.”

We all chuckled.  They thanked Marge again and said that they hoped they would be seeing us around.  She and I stood up, Marge, with the final comment:  
“When you're not sightseeing.”  

Snickers and grins, and we departed, returning to our towels, then deciding to have something to drink.  We picked up our things and went to the beach bar, where I was more comfortable about being nude in the close presence of people with something on.  When Marge suggested having a beer, we hardly smirked, I just agreeing:  
“Good idea;  more liquid and less alcohol.”

We moved away from the bar and commented with smiles about the success of her getting the four together, almost laughing about the girls' having planned what they would tell their parents.  When I suggested a second beer, Marge smirked more broadly, agreeing:  
“In Germany the glasses are larger.”

Again we moved away from the bar and speculated how the other roommates were getting on, greeting two couples. who also went to the bar, and then joined us.  We all agreed that the idea of the trip was being a success, exchanging nods and smiles that suggested that all of us were individually happy with our respective roommates.  I mentioned that Marge had “taken care” that the two young men also had company.  One of the couples had seen them together at breakfast and replied with smirks that they had, wondering who the girls were.  The other couple hadn't noticed them, but then also enjoyed Marge's telling that they were German students and what we had learned about them, all of us chuckling again.




Bastille Day Ch. 02



When one of the other men suggested another beer, offering to buy the round, we others agreed  - not without Marge and me exchanging smirks -  but insisted on paying for our own.  We three men went to the bar and paid for our two beers and returned to our roommates.  Marge said:  “Prost,” and someone said: “Cheers,” and someone else said:  “A votre santé,” and we all drank and smiled. 

We continued our conversation, finishing our beers.  When the others suggested returning to the beach, we followed along, finding a place where we could all lie down together, with a little space between our pairs of towels.  Marge and I were lying on our backs, our little fingers linked.  Nice warm sun on my cock and balls.  But after several minutes, I felt that my cock wanted to do something.  Apparently, Marge's muschi also did; her finger clutched mine.  

I looked over and saw that she was looking at me, then smiling slightly, before she murmured:  
“I've got to go.”
“Me too.”

We grinned, smirked, but then one of the other woman said:  
“I do too.  We can go in the water.”

Marge scowled with a wry grin.  I returned it, nodding.  We snorted and got up.  When the woman did, the others also did, chuckling, and we all went in the water, splashing about to suggest that we were having fun, but smirking, knowing that we all were going.  We splashed a little more, and left the water.  Our cocks were again somewhat smaller from the cool water.  We returned to our towels, and each couple took turns refreshing sun lotion, the men first, the women lying on their backs.

The other men also massaged their partners' breasts more than necessary, their partners' obviously appreciating as much as Marge was, smirking up at their man.  The one who had spoken before remarked:  
“Of course we have; isn't that why we're here?”

Marge replied:  
“Not sure.  We had a lot of fun talking first.”

The third woman was silent, and other woman, remarked:  
“We didn't talk so much.”
“After all our emails:  about the same thing,” her new friend commented.
“After he told me his height and weight.”
“I cheated a couple of pounds.”
“I'm not complaining; I did too.”
“But all in the right places,” he replied, his hands returning to her ample bosom.”

Marge remarked:  
“I was worried about that, too.  Had good luck, very good luck!”  She grinned up at me.

Finally the third woman said something:  
“We weren't sure if we would, emails, agreeing that we could get along together without.”
“Um-hmm,” her partner agreed, smiling down at her, massaging her nice breasts again.”

She smiled up at him, and replied:  
“After agreeing about that, … well, … there we were, two adults, knowing that we were going to see each other naked.  Hm-hmm!  Kind of ticklish in the room the first night.”
“We didn't.”
“Nice of you not to suggest anything.  I liked that.”
“I wanted you to … like that.”
“Isn't he sweet?!  But then, of course, it was foolish to wear anything in our room.”
“But still a little ticklish, just the two of us.”
“And our big beds suggesting …”
“That sleeping alone was also foolish.”
“Something like that.  Somehow we agreed about that.”
“You went to bed and left the covers on the side to mine turned back.”

We all smiled at them and nodded.  She chuckled with a smile and replied:  
“Yours were also turned back, how I got the idea.”

We all chuckled.  The women turned over, and we men applied more sunlotion.  Then it was their turn.  They were a little more discrete about applying it to our cocks and balls, down between our thighs, but we could all see that the other women were.  Marge snorted and remarked:  
“Have to wash them as good.”

We all snickered with nods and lay down again.  I wondered if our young men were getting the same attention, and if they were, if they had managed not to become aroused, and then  - if they had -  if the girls would have wanted them to.  If they had …?  Don't think about it!

After sunning for a while more, turning over a couple of times, someone suggested that we go in the water again.  As we did, Marge smirked at me and whispered:  “Don't.”  I nodded, returning her smirk.  I resisted the inclination to let it flow again in the water, assuming that she was too.  That was reinforced, when she suggested on the way back to our towels:  
“Another beer, before we go shower?”

The others agreed, and we collected our things.  At the bar, we met a couple of other sets of roommates.  The conversation was more discrete than it had been with the other two couples.  The others had, however, also seen our young men and the girls, and heard Marge's story again.

We finished our beers and wrapped our towels around ourselves and returned to the hotel.  While we all waited for the elevator, Marge moved her legs again, like a little girl who had to go.  The others all snorted and let us take the first elevator.  As we went to our room, she snorted and murmured:  
“I don't really have to go that bad.”
“But you want to?”
“Oh, of course, I have to, just not that much.”
“Me too.”

I opened our door, and she entered, immediately letting her towel fall before I closed the door.  Mine fell, and we smirked.  I asked:  
“What I think?”
“In the shower?  I want to.”
“Yours or mine?”
“Hmm?  Mine first.  If I like it, then yours.”

We snorted with grins and hurried to the bathroom, stepping into the tub.  Her quite pale yellow stream arched out, splashing on my feet.  We both snickered, and then mine sprang forth.  I rocked my hips, spraying on her thighs.

“Oooh, warm,” she murmured, adding:  “Here goes.”

She reached down in her stream, catching a handful, and I also did.  We smirked and tasted it, smiling wryly, and then both tasted mine.  She snorted and remarked:  
“Like you said, cum  - semen -  is more 'interesting.'  You drank a glass of it?”
“Half a glass, a couple of times, after drinking more beer and watching videos; both conducive to experimenting.”
“Hmm?  I guess.  You were right; it doesn't really taste offensive, not even really strange, just a little raunchy doing it.”
“Yes, but aren't we a little?”
“Um-hmm.  Maybe more than a little.” 

She smirked as I nodded, and then we washed each other.  There was no question that we were arousing each other, telling each other it felt good when our erogenous zones were fondled.  While we were drying ourselves, my cock began to droop, of course, just flopping back and forth on my hand as I dried my balls.  She still had to dry her hair, letting me enjoy watching how her raised arms made her breasts move.   She snorted with a grin, seeing where I was looking, and remarked:  
“We still have a lot of time till dinner.”
“Um-hmm.  We could go out for a walk again,” I replied with a facetious smile.”
“Hmm?  If you really insist.”
“You have a better idea?”
“Two or three.”

She smirked and made a demonstration of drying her muschi again, her other hand unnecessarily rubbing the other end of her towel over one of her breasts.  I snorted and replied:  
“Just a suggestion.  What were you thinking of?”
“Hm-hmm!  As if you didn't know.”
“Maybe, but if you have two or three ideas, maybe not what you were thinking.”
“Do I have to tell you?  You know that I'm shy and modest.”

We both snickered and grinned.  As she hung up her towel, I remarked:  
“Now you tell me!  Thanks for concealing that side of your character so well.”

We laughed, and she turned and stepped closer, rubbing her nipples on my chest, smiling up at me as her hands grasped my ass, and mine, hers.  She murmured:  
“Fun.”
“Um-hmm, more fun;  more fun continuing to talk like that, and more fun, not just …, well, you know.”
“Not just having sex as though that's all we liked to do with each other.”
“Better than I could have expressed it.”
“Hm-hmm!  What if we get carried away with talking and talk ourselves out of it?”
“Most unlikely, but that would also be interesting.  Still have plenty of days to see if that could happen.”
“Hmmm?!  Be fun to try, and see if it worked, if one of us didn't finally ruin the attempt.”
“Saying something like:  'Stop talking and lick my muschi!'”
“Oooh!   That's a good idea, but I was thinking of what you might say.”
“I would never be so crude as to say that!”

We snickered, gripping the cheeks of each other's ass.  She replied:  
“But I wouldn't mind that.  …  One of the things I was thinking about.”
“Oooh!  That would be nice!  And the other two or three things?”
“Just to make it hard for you, and then  - do I have to say it? -  turn around and kneel on the bed …”
“Oh!  Doggie?!” 

I feigned surprise.  She grasped my ass tighter again, grinning and remarking:  
“You're not as dumb as I was beginning to think.”
“It's easier to play dumb than to try to appear more intelligent than I am.  But then, the third thing?”
“If we do that, there wouldn't be a third thing.”
“What a relief!”

We snorted and sealed our agreement with a kiss, one that suggested what her lips and tongue were going to do.  It also suggested that they weren't going to have to take long to make it hard for me  - harder for me.  We left the bathroom, not getting further than the near side of her bed.  She drew back the covers and sat down.  She only gave me the briefest glance, and then my cock was in her warm mouth again.   

Oh, I have been forgetting that this is about the trip of whole group.  It's very obvious why I have forgotten.  Amazing how one can have total recall!  And I can't stop with my cock in her mouth, just maybe not get as carried away with the details and sensations.

I fondled her breasts, and saw that her fingers were pussy  [Freudian typo, really!]  - were busy on her muschi.  When I was beginning to forget about what else she wanted to do, my throbbing cock slipped from between her lips.  She looked up at me with an aroused expression and turned around, kneeling on her bed, presenting, offering her open and moist muschi between her thighs.  I had seen too many like that in videos, but never live, and hers was as attractive and inviting as any of the others.  

I must have looked at it for a moment too long.  She demanded softly:  “Fuck me!”  I did, the head of my cock slipping easily between the open lips of her muschi and plunging into her slippery, tight, warm vagina.   “Slippery, tight, warm” in the order of the sensations on my cock.

I couldn't forget, but I'm getting carried away again.  

In brief:  I had never before fucked so hard and fast, our hips slapping together.  Her fingers touched my balls as long as my sack was still loose and they were swinging as I fucked.  Then I felt her fingers touch the base of my cock, and assumed that she was rubbing her clitoris.  Her aroused noises let me understand why she liked to be fucked that way, and mine were just as aroused and unrestrained.

Keep it brief:  clutching muschi, throbbing cock, a gush of warm muschi juice on my tight sack, dripping off it, spurts  - several spurts -  deep in her muschi.

She dropped forward on the bed with whimpering groans.  My glistening wet cock bobbed, still throbbing.  I dropped down over her, managing to get my hands between the mattress and her breasts, holding them.

Total recall, and then only briefly told.  Got to stop that, if I want to get back to telling about the group experience.  Difficult.  

Maybe if I summarize:  Marge and I had as much sex as we wanted and every way that we wanted:  
always after our showers in the afternoons; always in the mornings, and sometimes after going to bed; and sometimes in the middle of the night  - if we hadn't when we went to bed.   Maybe we didn't in the morning, if we had in the night.  No, I am pretty sure we did.  Sixty-nine is so easy:  don't have to be aroused to start; just agree to enjoy something with each other; and then, of course, it gets better.  

Back to the present, Tuesday evening:  at the bar, the German girls greeted us, saying that the men would be along.  They smirked, and one of them murmured:  
“They had to go back to their room.”

Anna seemed a little embarrassed by this admission, but nodded, and Marge and I also did with smiles.  Then Anna said something in German to Marge, who replied, and the girls both nodded with smiles.  Their new friends joined us, and we moved away to talk with others from our group.

If possible, it seemed that all of us were even more happy with our choice of roommates.  At dinner, we sat with the couple we had talked to at the bar in the afternoon, who had told about how they agreed to sleep with each other.  

We all smirked slightly.  When does one meet people whom you know have just met, and the only thing you know about them is that they are sleeping with each other?  They were smirking for the same reason, of course, although I and apparently Marge had no problem with it.  No, she didn't, her smile at me.

I asked what the girl's had asked in German.  She snorted and replied:
“They wondered if the guys were Jewish, you know, since they were circumcised.  I told them that most men in the States are.”
“From your experience?”
“Don't be fresh; you know that most of them are.
“Sorry.  Did they care.”
“No, just curious.”
“And then the guys had to go back to their room.”

We all chuckled.  The other woman suggested:  
“Could have expected that they would have been in both rooms.”

We chuckled again, then all snorting at the realization that we were assuming that the two couples had probably had sex in one room, and that the girls had suggested that the guys join them in theirs.

“Ah, youth,” the man remarked with a grin.  His companion snorted and replied:  
“We're doing pretty well for our age.”

We all nodded with smiles of agreement.

Wednesday and Thursday were more of the same.  Marge and I talked with other couples, all of us discretely confiding that we were enjoying sex with our roommates, now bedmates.  The German girls seemed to like to confide in Marge, talking to her a couple of times when neither their friends nor I was around.  

By then, Marge and I sometimes separated for a while, walking or swimming alone, and then entertaining each other with what we had seen or done, always making it sound a little erotic.  That was seldom true, but we enjoyed competing with stories, teasing each other with claims that we had attracted the attention of some sexy member of the opposite sex.  The stories got better, claiming that we had sat with someone and only resisted an obvious suggestion to be with each other again.
That was, of course, an implication about what we wanted to do back in our room.

Once, when Marge was by herself, the German girls spoke to her.  As she explained, when she smirked slightly and ventured to ask about the young men, the girls also smirked, nodding.  Petra with the perky breasts, who was the more outspoken, replied that she and Anna had promised to stay together, no matter what.  Anna had again looked a little embarrassed, but nodded, smirking slightly.  Marge said:  
“Of course, both in your room.”

The girls both blushed, nodding, and Petra replied:  
“And in theirs, but don't tell.”

She did, however, tell me, and we snickered, then wondering if they shared partners.  That suggested the general question if maybe any couples had met in one of their rooms after dinner.  That in turn led to a humorous conversation about what we would do if another couple suggested that, and then one about which couple we could imagine would suggest something , and which ones we would find attractive. 

By then, we had better visual impressions of all the others in our group.  When I suggested that I could imagine that it would be nice with Petra, Marge snorted and said that she wasn't one of the group, but then smirked and said that she thought either of the young men would be good.   I replied that Anna would also be just as good, since she didn't care which of the men she would get.  We snickered and agree to only choose members of our group.   

When I suggested Kathleen, thinking that she had been very forward  about agreeing to share a room with James, Marge grinned and remarked:  
“Oooh, yes!  James.  You probably didn't look at his nice long cock.”

I had, and tried to change the subject, but she didn't let me, grinning and saying:  
“Just once.”
“Look or do it?”
“Hm-hmm!  Maybe twice, both ways.   Your fault for suggesting Kathleen.  Why?”
“Seemed eager.  Your fault for not having immediately wanted a Harvard man.”
“Hmmm!  Had one already.  Too intellectual.”
“Shouldn't have talked so much.”
“I was just kidding, … but James, if he can with her?”
“They don't talk, just hold hands.”
“Hands?!  Hm-hmm!  She would need both to hold him.”
“Don't complain!”
“Sorry.  Just joking.”
“Hmm?  I hope so, but you could be right.”
“I don't want to just hold yours  - with my hand.”
“Keep talking.”
“Maybe I can get eight fingers around it.”

She demonstrated what she was suggesting, and we both snickered.  Later that day, she snorted and tried.  With some goodwill, pushing her hands down on my balls, the tip of my cock rose above her fingers.  We snickered again, and she said:
“I want to suck it, and not one that big.”

She did, as good as she had the first time, and the times since then.

Friday, the weather was cloudy, and a few of us agreed to take two taxis to visit a Romanesque church and a picturesque village, Sans-culotte's suggestion and a nice change.  Marge and I, of course, wonder if what we had seen was on the German girl's list of sightseeing, Marge whispering  that we could fill them in with details.    

That evening in the bar, despite the lack of sun, most of the others had been on the beach, especially our two young men and their girls.  After a first drink, they smirked at each other, and one of the men remarked:  
“In case the rest of you are curious, we went down where things are more liberal.”

 We were suddenly all ears, other conversation dying down.  He smirked slightly at the effect of his remark, and the girls and his roommate also did.  For a moment he seemed to search for the right expression and then said:
“Yeah, well, if you have seen beach videos, like that.”

Apparently most of us had, nodding with smirks.  He appreciated our response and added:  
“Yeah, a little strange seeing people doing that, knowing that they could be seen.  Wouldn't want to go there by myself, like some of the voyeurs we saw.”  

His friend and the girls nodded, smirking.  I looked at Anna, who again seemed a little embarrassed by his telling, but Petra seemed openly to enjoy it.  I still couldn't tell if they had paired off.  He continued with a smirk of his own:  
“But once you've become accustomed to it, it's sort of infectious.”

We all snorted, snickering.  Petra and his roommate nodded with grins.  That suggested that Anna had also been infected.  She then also nodded slightly with a wry smile.  Apparently others had noticed her embarrassment.  Her bra-less nipples were sticking out.  There was a moment of silence in the group, and then Sans-culotte snorted and remarked softly:  
“I can imagine.  Thanks.  Maybe save a couple of us from satisfying our curiosity, … or maybe not.”

The rest of us nodded with mild smiles, leaving it unclear which alternative they might be agreeing with.  I thought that the videos I had seen were explicit enough.  However, when we finished our second drink and were going to the dining room, Marge took my arm and murmured:
“Why not?  Might as well see everything.”
“To tell back home?”
“In case anyone asks; can't say I was here  - we were here -  and admit that we weren't there.”
“Anyone?  More than just your brother and his wife?”

She snorted and replied:  
“A couple of others, before I understood that we would all be sharing rooms.”
“Hmm?  What will they think of that?”
“They'll have to ask.”




Bastille Day Ch. 02



“And then?”
“Oh?  My brother and his wife will like it.”
“And the others, girlfriends, boyfriends?”
“None of the latter, but a couple of males,  … three, four girlfriends.”
“Hmm!”

We sat down, joined by another couple.  I suddenly remembered that he was “Naturebuff:”  “Buffy,” “NB,” who had started the Literotica forum that got us all here.  I apologized for not having thanked him earlier, and did.  Marge smiled, nodding, and he and his companion also nodded with smiles, also at each other.  Of course, we talked about how successful the trip was being, exchanging smirks about more direct comments about our own relationships and those of others.  

Before we all had finished dinner, Sans-culotte stood up and said:  
“Sorry, but the weather tomorrow is probably not going to be better.”

There was a general groan.  Then he added:  
“But tomorrow is Bastille Day, our national holiday, a big parade on the Champs-Élysée.  We have a large TV.  Maybe some of you would you like to watch with us.”

He glanced at his friend Stephan and their two friends, who nodded, and added:
“It starts at ten o'clock.  Maybe the weather will be better after that.”

There were glances and nods among the group, and a general murmur of thanks for his suggestion.

Back in our room:  neither of us had suggested a walk or anything else.  Yes, that afternoon, we hadn't done anything after our sightseeing.  But then we did:  she did, I did, we did.  But I wasn't going to get carried away.



Bastille Day Ch. 03



Saturday morning, the weather was somewhat overcast. Some of the group were disappointed, others thought a milder day on the beach after several sunny ones was a good change. Sans-culotte stood up and repeated his invitation to watch the Bastille Day parade in the suite he and Stepan were now sharing with two women. Some immediately said they would be there. I saw Stephan talk to him, and then he stood up again, grinning, and announced: 

"It's our national holiday;" gesturing at Stephan: "we invite you all for champagne, not a popular brand that you may know back in your countries, but it's just as good. I think we'll have enough to watch the parade."

We all looked pleased, nodding, someone saying that we should celebrate the French national holiday with them. He smiled again and was about to sit down, then turned back to the group and added with a slight smile: 

"The President won't be able to see us; don't have to dress up. Just bring towels, since most will have to sit on the floor, and glasses. Ten o'clock."

There were some chuckles and then apparently discussions at the other tables like that at ours: how informal "don't have to dress up" might be; if "just bring towels" was all we should wear. I mentioned that at parties at Paradise Lakes, some people wore shorts or a cloth around their waist, but that others didn't, and that everyone was comfortable either way. Marge thought it was good alternative to wear towels, explaining: 

"Have to wear something in the corridors, but then I can just wear it around my hips ... or whatever."

I agreed. The couple at our table didn't commit themselves, just nodding in acknowledgment of what we were going to do. We saw our young men ask if they could bring the German students, Sans-culotte nodding with a smile.

Back in our room, we chuckled as we undressed, exchanging comments about how we thought the others would interpret his comments. We had seen them all nude on the beach, but as we knew, it might be a little different when we were all together in their suite, crowded together in the room in their suite with the TV. Marge snorted and remarked: 

"Can't bother us, and if we just sit on our towels, that will also be nice."

"Um-hmm, but maybe more interesting with enough champagne to watch the parade."

"And if ...?"

She smiled, then remarked: 

"I've got just the right thing, a sarong. You can use my other towel, the one that hasn't been on the beach."

Shortly before ten, we joined others on the floor of their suite. We all smirked slightly as we observed the others' choice of clothing. They all had towels, some wearing them like I was, including the oldest couple. A couple of women had a light shift on, what they wore going to and from the beach. A couple of men were wearing shorts. One woman was wearing a man's polo shirt, which concealed what she was or was not wearing under it. She smirked and lifted it to show us that she was, but then let us see that it was only a string. The young men were wearing their towels. Their German friends smirked, wearing bikini bottoms with just their towels slung over their shoulders.

While I was looking at the others, Sans-culotte opened the door, also with just a towel around his hips. He greeted us with a smile and chuckle, apparently also about our choice of dress, and then his friend welcomed us. As we responded, congratulating them to Bastille Day, the women appeared, bare breasted, also with towels around their hips.

Marge and the other women with a towel or sarong immediately loosened them and fastened them again around their waists. The German girls also immediately took their towels off, smiling in response to the men's glances, mine too, which earned me a chuckle and pat on my ass from Marge. The woman and another one in a shirt, quickly took them off. One in a shift remarked:

"Oh, this is all I have on," to which the other, gathering up hers, snickered and replied: 

"You could have thought of that."

Her shift came up, revealing panties. Sans-culotte remarked: 

"Whatever you want, doesn't matter, with or without your dress."

She kept it on, smiling wryly, as she rubbed her stiff nipples. A male's voice remarked: 

"We won't mind."

She gave him a smirk, her nipples popping out again, but she still kept it on. We all chuckled softly. Then Sans-culotte called: 

"Glasses please, before the parade starts."

We held them out, and he and his friend and the women with them quickly filled them. The TV was already on, and the vehicle with the new French president, Franҫois Hollande, was approaching down the Champs Élysées. 

"To France!" someone toasted, and we all echoed his toast and drank.

We stood, watching him get to his seat on the VIP stand, and then Sans-culotte said: 

"Make yourselves comfortable. Guess it will be a little crowded."

It was. When the two young men, sitting together, suggested that the girls sit between their legs, others of us did the same. Soon we were all settled, watching the parade and sipping at our champagne. The way we were sitting invited the men, of course, to put an arm around their partner, also for her to hold one of his legs, each with a hand free for their glass. The parade continued with an impressive equestrian performance. Sans-culotte held up his empty glass and said: 

"Help yourselves to more champagne, in the refrigerator in the other room."

By then, most of our glasses were also empty, but no one made a move to follow his offer. Then the woman between his legs got up. Her movement caught our attention and we saw her refasten her to

towel before she took his glass and found her way between the couples. She returned with their refilled glasses, remarking as she stepped over legs: 

"Do help yourselves; there's plenty there."

A woman nearest the door then stood up and took her partner's glass, then asking: 

"Anyone else? I'll bring a bottle."

"Good idea," Sans-culotte, enjoined, assuaging misgivings that her offer might have been inappropriate. 

The bottle was soon empty, and someone else fetched another bottle, smiling at Sans-culotte and his friend. Another bottle replenished all our glasses - water glasses, larger than the usual slender champagne glass. As we watched the parade, we sipped, the others probably also enjoying the effect of the champagne, probably the equivalent of three champagne glasses, when our second ones were half empty. 

If the other men were like me, with my arm around Marge's waist, their fingers wanted to explore. I resisted the urge to reach further around her and try to tickle. One of the young men didn't, however. Petra - with the perky breasts - giggled and grabbed his hand and pushed it up on her breast, murmuring: 

"If you have to do something."

Not all the others could see them, but most heads turned, and those who could also see them saw where his hand was and that hers was holding it there, and that Anna was also holding the hand of her partner on her breast - without having giggled. There were soft chuckles, and not just my hand found the nearest breast. Marge turned her face back to me with grin, getting a wet kiss in her ear.

We all continued to watch the parade, now with soft chuckles that had nothing to do with it. When the fly-past started at eleven o'clock, the first women to get a bottle stood up again. Sans-culotte called - maybe a little louder than necessary: 

"Bring a couple, enough for us all."

We all snorted, and she returned with two bottles in each hand. Her man's hand and those of the three nearest men took them. The corks flew with louder pops than one would hear in a restaurant, foam flowing, but we all got our glasses refilled. We all waited and then gave another toast to Bastille Day and drank - more than just a sip. Then someone out of my sight suddenly said: 

"Bastille Day, July fourteenth! Know what else it is? National Nude Day!"

We all laughed and toasted: "National Nude Day!" and drank again. Someone asked: 

"Really?" and a woman's voice replied: 

"Yeah, I saw that on Wikipedia about Naturism, when I was getting ready for the trip."

We chuckled, and then Buffy, who was sitting close to the TV, looked around at us with a grin and pointed at the TV and then at himself and around at others and called: "Flash mob," pointing back at the TV, at the view of the Champs-Élysée."

As we laughed again, someone remarked: "Great idea, next year!" and there were more chuckles. 

We returned to watching the parade, which seemed less interesting now, not only because there were only troops marching, but also because everyone in my field of view was more interested in his or her partner, and the soft chuckles and "um-hmms" from elsewhere in the room suggested that the others also were. 

Marge and I were too. She chuckled encouraging, as I more than just held her breast, and scratched my thigh lightly with her fingernails. No one was seeming to mind that the party had become more sexually oriented. On the contrary - group dynamics - the fact that others were doing something reduced inhibitions. When Marge began to scratch the inside of my thigh, I felt my cock respond. 

I didn't want to be a voyeur and look to see what others were doing, but did notice the movement of their drinking - like us, emptying their glasses. Marge only gave a surprised "Uhn!" when the cold fingers of my other hand found her breast. I did look, however, when I heard Anna suddenly whisper: 

"Petra," and then something in German.

Marge and others also looked and saw that Petra had her hand down behind Anna's back. Less discretely described, her hand was down in the crotch of man sitting behind Anna, He seemed only embarrassed that Anna had called attention to what Petra was doing, smiling slightly and murmuring: "If she wants to," and let us see him squeeze Anna's breasts. Anna was blushing deeply, having realized that others were looking at her, but just snorted with an abashed expression. 

There were no immediate comments, but a few moments later there were again soft chuckles, and I imagined that other couples were being more active about arousing each other, like Marge was, her fingers creeping closer up the inside of my thigh. I chuckled and made it easier for them to. I let go of her breast and reached down and pulled at the hem of my towel. She snorted and rocked her hips to the other side, letting me pull it free. The chuckles then were less soft and sounded more encouraging than they had been. 

I ventured a glance over at the sofa, obviously a fold-away double bed, where Sans-culotte and his woman friend and the oldest couple were sitting, sort of throned above all of us on the floor. The four of them were also infected by the erotic atmosphere in the room. The couples had turned towards each other. I couldn't see where the women's hands were, but my inclination was to imagine that they were under the men's towels. The men were fondling one of their breasts and seemed pleased with whatever their friend was doing. 

Marge's fingers had crept far enough to touch my ball. From the angle of her arm, there was nothing subtle about what she was doing. She chuckled at her success and then whispered: 

"Almost there." 

As I responded with an "Um-hmm!" and pinched her nipples, someone murmured loud enough for all the hear: "Nude Day."

There was an immediate response from the room: 

"Um-hmm!" "Oh yes!" "Yeah!" "Why not?" and then more hums of agreement, confirming a consensus.

We all chuckled, and for the next several seconds the bodies in the room were in motion as towels were unwrapped and shorts slid under asses and up over knees. The woman who hadn't taken of her shift now did, letting us all see her almost fling it up in the air as she drew it over head. She snickered and murmured: 

"It was up around my waist, anyway."

We all recognized what that implied. It was the final catalyst that let us all to give up our last reserves about doing something with our partner that could end in group sex. 

Marge hummed in her throat and slid her hips forward and reached behind her ass and fondled my balls - where she had almost been before. Then her hand grasped my not yet fully aroused cock. 

When my hand slid down to her muschi, hers followed, obviously not trying to hide it.

I didn't need to look up to see that others were also now openly arousing each other, but I did glance over at our young men with Petra and Anna. Petra again had her hand behind Anna, now obviously holding his cock. The men's hands were where mine was. Anna had given up any pretense of being worried about what was going on; her hand was now also behind Petra's ass. I had to snort about their agreement to share what they were doing with the men, thinking that it was more convenient than Marge's reaching behind her own ass, and then wondered how much they shared when they were together alone - and how? Suddenly more images from videos.

For a while, there was a background sound of encouraging and appreciative hums. Then we heard a woman's voice say: 

"We're going to."

We looked where the voice came from and saw Sans-culotte's woman begin to straddle him. If our host was going to, didn't we all want to?!

"We are too," added the oldest woman in the group, next to them on the sofa. Her partner nodded with a grin. She was holding his erect cock. 

We'll move," Sans-culotte murmured and began to slide off the sofa with his woman. Then he spoke louder: 

"If it get's too crowded, you can go in the other room. The beds aren't made, but that shouldn't matter."

There were snickers and nods, and we saw the older couple begin to lie down on the sofa - head to foot. There were more chuckles and snickers, and couples glanced at each other. Marge turned her head back to me and murmured: 

"Bed; someone has to go first."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, and we stood up, showing everyone my aroused cock. 

There were some nods and more chuckles. Our young men and the girls were quickest to follow us. On the way to the other room, Marge snorted and whispered: 

"Now I know why we didn't this morning; more for me taste now."

I chuckled and dove down on the far bed, facing the other one, and she joined me. It occurred to me that sixty-nine was more appropriate than what Sans-culotte and his friend were doing, not because everyone didn't know what we were doing, but because we couldn't be watching others. Not quite, between Marge's thighs I saw the girls lie down back to back and head to foot, and then the men join them, also for sixty-nine. Obviously, they didn't mind being physically close, regardless of whether they shared in any other way. I didn't notice if the girls were about to suck the cock they had been fondling or that of the guy they had been sitting with.

Marge was already sucking my cock, very mildly, and I understood that we should try to prolong our enjoyment for as long as possible; others would probably be joining us in the room, starting later, and we didn't want to finish and be listening to them - nor watching them, of course. When I just lapped over her muschi with a broad tongue, she nodded, and we bided our time.

We heard chuckles and then were aware that the covers at the foot of the bed were being taken away. Someone murmured: 

"Good idea, like that." 

I liked that they also apparently didn't want to watch others, but they had seen us and the other two couples. Had it surprised them to see that they were sharing a bed, let them wonder if they shared more than just one bed? I licked a little, and Marge sucked a little, just keeping my cock aroused.

It seemed that another couple or two entered the room - a couple more chuckles. There was a rustle as they lay down, and then silence, and then muffled hums. Marge's and my mouths became more active and we joined in the hums. 

She knew better than I when it was becoming too arousing and slowed down, letting me recover a little. When I apparently aroused her too much, she grunted and rocked her hips back. That happened more than once. We had never prolonged our orgasms for so long, but we knew that they would be all the stronger for doing it. Once when we paused, I wondered if the other couples had the same thought - two thoughts - not to be the first to come; that it would be better the longer they waited.

But then there were more aroused noises from the other bed. I snorted: young people just couldn't wait. The sound of two girls and two men seeking their orgasms was irresistibly infectious, and not just for Marge and me. We all were making more noise, also then the rhythmic sound of fucking, apparently only one couple. 

I think that I only assumed that I could hear the sound of tongues licking wet pussies. Mine was, Marge's very wet muschi, and I probably just imagined that the other tongues were making the same sound, hoping the other couples were just as aroused.

The younger couples' noises made it very evident that they were having their orgasms. I'll never forget the sound of four aroused persons moaning and grunting! I don't know which of the rest of us won the race to have ours. It wasn't a dead heat, just a long series of unrestrained moans and grunts, and one woman's very aroused whimpering moans. Had to be the woman of the couple that was fucking; women can't whimper like that with a cock in their mouth.

There followed a minute or two of long sighs. I rolled back and raised my head, knowing that just my head appearing above the foot of the mattress could not attract attention. Marge frowned and pressed me back, but I looked. 

Three couples were lying on the covers from the two beds, still head to foot: one couple, both rolled apart. Only the man of the other couple had rolled back. The third couple were still close together, with their heads still on the other's thigh. Of course, their cocks like mine were flaccid. The fourth couple were lying on their towel, both facing away from the rest of us, with his arm still around her. It seemed obvious that he had fucked her from behind or under her hip. I suddenly recalled unwillingly the final scene of a video of 500 Japanese couples fucking. 

I dropped back on the bed. Marge snorted and fondled my soft cock, and I reached down fondled one of her breast. She rolled back and glanced at the other bed and snorted with a chuckle. I looked over, and we saw Petra raise her head, first with a wry smile and then a smirk. Her partner rolled back and also looked over at us with a wet face and snorted, licking his lips with a smirk, and then murmuring: 

"I didn't think it would be like this."

"Who did?" I replied. 

There were chuckles from the floor and then a louder one from the other man on the bed, who then asked: 

"Is it an orgy if there just a lot of people doing something with one partner?"

"Yes! But I don't want to think that I was part of an 'orgy'," Anna remarked without showing her face. From the floor came a snicker and also a couple of chuckles, and a woman replied: 

"I don't have any experience, but I always thought that for an orgy more than two people had to do something together, not with just one partner."

"Maybe in the other room," someone suggested.

We all snickered. The woman replied, apparently wanting to make Anna feel better: 

"But not in here, no orgy; just you and your friend, and by chance all the rest of us."

We all chuckled and sat up, smiling a little sheepishly at each other - Anna, very sheepishly. She seemed feel obligated to say something. She smiled wryly, looking like she was about to say something. Then she snorted with grin and remarked: 

"Okay, then I can write home that we didn't have any orgies."

We all broke into laughter, nervous relief after a situation that was apparently a little problematic for us all, but also appreciating that she had found a humorous reply that could release our nervous tension. Relaxed, we smirked and smiled at each other. I wondered if anyone else had seen Petra's expression when Anna had spoken: a slight smirk and glances at the men. Did her expression suggest that whatever the four of them had done also hadn't been an orgy - by the woman's definition? Or did it suggest that Anna had forgotten that what they had done did meet the woman's defintion?




Bastille Day Ch. 03



We six got up, and those on the covers put them back on the beds, while the other couple picked up their towels. With chuckles, we trooped back in the other room, where the atmosphere was just as relaxed. Couples were sitting together as couples will after having orgasms: he with his arm around her, she maybe holding his soft cock. They all, however, were again watching the TV. We sat down where we had left our things and saw that the parade had ended, that they were watching the Tour de France, but with much more interest than we would have expected. 

Someone who had recognized our expressions explained: 

"The finish line today is here, here in Cap d'Agde."

"And?" someone from our group asked.

"We can watch to finish."

"But not like we are now," Sans-culotte remarked, adding with a grin: 

"Even if it is your National Nude Day."

We all laughed, nodding, a little more nervous relief. Buffy snorted and remarked: 

"Not even a flash mob?"

"Not at the finish line; security is about as good as in Paris today," Sans-culotte replied, then adding: 

"But we can take the rest of the champagne, whatever is left."

That reminded us all to thank him and his friend for their generous hospitality. They nodded with smirks and said something about the best party they had ever been to. More chuckles, grins and nods. There was a short line to use the toilet, some couples going in together, as Marge and I did.

We sat around watching the TV, very relaxed and familiar, the women no longer between our legs, sitting closer to others, hips touching and just fondling a little to remind our partners what we had done. Then the rest of the group also had to go to the bathroom. When the TV announcer suggested when the leaders would reach the finish line, we agreed to meet in time to be there. As we were leaving the suite, the first persons had to be reminded that they couldn't go naked. With chuckles, we all put on what we had been wearing and returned to our rooms.

Marge and I chuckled with grins as we got naked again, immediately going in the bathroom for a shower, one with no sexual implications for a change. At the agreed time, we joined the others in the lobby, smiling a little wryly. Someone asked his partner facetiously: 

"Do we know these people?"

We all chuckled, and Sans-culotte led us to the road that the Tour de France would use. There was, of course, a large crowd along the barriers, so we had to split up to find places to watch. For all the Americans, it was an entirely new experience, so it didn't matter to us if we saw the actual finish. The Europeans told us that there would be a very heated race by a few of the cyclists, and that then the leading group would arrive, followed by most of the field. 

Before the racers arrived, vehicles with advertising passed by, and then police on motorbikes clearing the roadway. Then we heard cheering further up the road, and the leaders appeared. We couldn't really see much from where we were behind the people who had been waiting longer, but the general excitement was infectious. The leaders were pedaling like mad and moving faster than we imagined one could on a bicycle. The rest appeared, followed by a few stragglers, and then we followed the crowd to where the winners' would be announced. 

By then, we had picked up some information: that the winner of that day's "étape" probably wouldn't change the position of the overall leader, who wore a yellow "tricot;" and that there were other classifications. It was too complicated to comprehend, but that didn't matter. Eventually we learned that the winner of the étape was a German, André Greipel. When the members of the group regathered, we congratulated Anna and Petra that a German had won. The group split up again, and before dinner, some of us met as usual in the hotel bar. We made sure that Sans-culotte and his friend and the women didn't have to pay for their drinks, and went to dinner. 

Marge and I sat with the older couple. We all smirked slightly as we sat down, also glancing at our partners, obviously recalling what had happened earlier in the day. The older woman was the first to speak - softly:

"We're not that old, and after she said that, and he mentioned the other room, I didn't want anyone to feel that the presence of a couple maybe as old as their parents inhibit what it was obvious we all wanted to do."

"And we did too," her partner added, patting her hand. She nodded with a smile and explained: 

"So I said so, before there was any hesitation."

We nodded, and I replied: 

"Oh, there wasn't, not after you spoke; it was nice that you thought of that."

Marge nodded, and we could leave that subject, talking about the Tour de France and other things. After dinner, the four of us went out for a walk, talking and having a glass of wine, and returned to our rooms. Marge and I had also bought an English and a German newspaper and caught up on what was happening in the world, and then went to bed, just went to bed.

With the consequence, however, that we woke up in the morning with my cock between her thighs, and I didn't have to go to the bathroom - and she didn't either. So we did the obvious in that position, nice and leisurely .... But I don't want to get carried away.

We spent Sunday on the beach, eventually talking each other into wandering to where people were less inhibited. Were all of those where we had been till then inhibited? They certainly weren't at that end of the beach. The young man's description had been correct, but we didn't let ourselves become infected, despite speculating about what the two young couples might have done, having seen that not just two people were doing something together. 

Back in our room, our shower again didn't lead to anything. Had we been having too much sex? I liked that we could comment about that, both agreeing that it was certainly a lot more than either of us had had in one week - even during my honeymoon, and a lot better than that. On the way down to dinner, Marge took my hand and remarked with a smile: 

"But we can still have a lot more."

I squeezed her hand with a nod and replied: 

"I wasn't implying that we shouldn't."

We grinned and went to dinner. After dinner, we discovered Petra and Anna alone and asked them where the men were. Petra replied: 

"They wanted to go to the casino. You probably know that they're computer programers with enough money for the trip and that too, but we didn't think we should go along - no money."

Anna nodded, adding: 

"Oh, they said they would give us some to play, but, of course, we couldn't accept that."

"Of course not," I agreed, suggesting that we all have a glass of wine. 

Marge supported my offer with a nod and smile, and we all went to the bar. They enjoyed talking with us, sometimes speaking German with Marge, when the subject was about Germany. She translated, bringing the conversation back to English. When I nodded to the bartender for a second glass of wine, Anna said: 

"We shouldn't."

"Why not?" Petra replied, and Anna acquiesced.

We had a first sip, smiling, and continued our conversation. After a few more sips, Petra snorted and remarked softly - there were others speaking English at the bar:

"That was funny yesterday."

"Petra!"

"Not without your help," I murmured with a grin, earning a frown from Anna.

"It was, both ways," Marge agreed softly with a smile, adding: 

"I - we - liked it, didn't we?"

"Very, but maybe we shouldn't talk about it here," I replied

"Somewhere else?" Marge remarked, adding: "Why not? Since you mentioned it; interesting to share impressions."

I nodded. Petra also did. Anna looked less enthusiastic, but then nodded with a brief, wry smile. Marge also nodded with a smile, suggesting: 

"We can go to our room."

Petra again was more receptive to the suggestion than Anna, but she also nodded with another little smile. As I asked the bartender to refill our half full glasses and signed the chit for six glasses, I remembered that the girls had said that they would stick together, recalling our assumption that they had both been together in the men's or in their room. What Petra had done the day before, and the way they all had been together on one bed certainly suggested that the four of them did more together than Anna's comments and frown wanted to admit.

As we went to the elevator, waiting, I wondered what Marge was thinking, having invited the girls to our room. Until then, I had only been surprised to discover that we had very similar or complementary thoughts, at least about everything we had done or thought about in connection with the group. What should I be thinking now? What could she be thinking?

Still wondering, I opened the door to our room and gestured for the others to go in. Marge immediately set down her glass and murmured apologetically: 

"Sorry, I have to go."

The girls nodded, looking around where to sit. When Marge kicked off her sandals, the girls also did, and I slipped out of my loafers, gesturing at the beds, since there were only two chairs in the room. As they did, next to each other on my bed, I noticed that Marge hadn't closed the bathroom door. Knowing the toilet wasn't near the door, I closed it with a wry smile, remarking: 

"Easy to forget after a week together."

The girls snorted and nodded. I sat down opposite them on Marge's bed. I didn't want to suggest we drink or say much until she returned. To say something, I nodded towards bathroom door behind me and said: 

"If you also need to, of course."

They nodded, just acknowledging my offer, but looking like they were waiting to see the door open. We heard the toilet flush. When Anna heard Marge turn the nob, she nodded again and stood up, then looked surprised. Before I could turn my head to see why, Marge said: 

"Oh! Sorry," and then I saw that she had taken off her skirt, as she added: 

"We don't usually wear much."

She stepped away from the door nodded for Anna to go in. I didn't see her expression, but she did close the door. Petra nodded and almost grinned at Marge, replying softly, as though she didn't want Anna to hear her: 

"We don't either, ... if anything. Isn't that why we're here? Hm-hmm! Especially after yesterday?"

"Or us," Marge agreed, and we all smirked, and I saw the nipples of Petra's perky breasts pop out.

I had already noticed, of course, that the girls weren't wearing bras and knew that Marge wasn't. Was that what she was thinking: that I - that she - wanted us all to take off our clothes? I only was wearing slacks and polo shirt, no underpants. Marge hung her skirt in the closet. She returned and picked up her glass. Her panties, visible under the hem of her short blouse, were nothing sexy, but not like the cotton, ass-covering ones my first girlfriend had worn. What did Petra and Anna wear?

We all took a sip, and Marge sat down next to me, and then undid the top button of her blouse. Petra raised an eyebrow with slight smile, and then we heard heard the toilet again. Anna returned. She just snorted when she saw Marge's bare legs. Petra stood up, saying: 

"I'd better go, too," and as she set her glass down, added: 

"We already had a sip."

She disappeared, and Marge raised her glass. Anna picked hers up and sat down, and we all had a sip of wine. The Anna sorted softly again, letting me think that she had noticed that Marge had undone the button of her blouse. I felt it was more difficult to know what to say to Anna, hoping Marge would think of something; it had been her idea to take off her skirt, for whatever reason. After the moment's silence, while that went through my mind, to my relief she did, but also to my surprise: 

"Yes, that was interesting yesterday."

A small, wry smile passed over Anna's lips as she nodded slightly - involuntarily, like the way her nipples popped out under her light, girlish summer dress, that was held up by two bows on her shoulders. That reminded me that Petra was wearing a skirt, letting me wonder if she might also take it off in the bathroom. Anna nodded again and murmured: 

"Very." 

After a moment she took another sip of wine, just a small one to suggest that was all she was going to say. Marge and I then also had a sip. Anna smiled a little self-consciously. To bridge the pause until Petra returned, I remarked that I also had to go and stood up and put down my glass, as though I were in more of a hurry than I really was. Anna snorted with a more relaxed smile, and we waited. When I heard the toilet flush, I moved closer to the bathroom door. A few moments later, it opened, and Petra appeared, refastening her skirt. She smirked slightly and remarked: 

"I almost took mine off, too, but then thought better of it."

I didn't look to see Anna's expression as I snorted and replied: 

"I wouldn't have minded, but no fear; I'll keep my pants on; nothing under them."

I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door without waiting for any response to my remark, which I thought had been witty and appropriate support for whatever Marge and Petra might have in mind. I made of point of letting them hear my stream splash in the toilet bowl, then taking my time before I flushed, hoping Marge would get the conversation going again. As I opened the door, I let the girls see my other hand check that I had zipped up.

Marge turned her head and smiled at me, remarking: 

"We were speaking German. I need some practice."

"And what about?"

"Mostly smirking a little about yesterday."

"And about your last remark," Petra added with slight grin, continuing: 

"Our friends don't either, not here, at least."

Anna wrinkled her nose, but nodded. I took my glass again and sat down, patting Marge's knee once. I snorted and remarked: 

"Feels good, maybe like not wearing a bra."

The girls both seemed aware that their nipples popped out again, but only nodded, as did Marge, but I didn't glance over to see if hers had. Anna replied: 

"We usually do, but also 'not here'; kind of foolish to, if we go naked on the beach."

"Especially after yesterday," Marge remarked, adding: 

"Funny, how it's easier out on the beach, but different - at first - in the room, just the two of us. We knew we would, but didn't see each other naked until the first morning."

"After lots of talking about it, also fun," I added, smiling over at her, and we both had a sip.

The girls smiled and also sipped, Petra then remarking: 

"Of course, we had seen each other naked, so that wasn't a problem, and then last summer."

"But it was still a little embarrassing the first day on the beach,"Anna added: 

"imagining that all the men were looking at me."

I snorted with a smile and said:

"Probably not just imagining that they were; you two are attractive, literally: attracting appreciative glances."

Marge nodded as their nipples popped out again. I snorted and added: 

"Especially if they do that."

The girls couldn't help but smile. Petra just looked down with grin; Anna rubbed her arm over her nipples, but smiled again and said: 

"But at Marge too."

"Of course, especially me," I agreed and reached over and rubbed the back of my hand over Marge's nearest breast. She snorted and asked: 

"And don't you look at the men?"

"Try not to," Petra remarked with a grin.

Anna nodded with more reserved smile and said to Marge: 

"That was what was nice about your introducing us to your friends, that we met them, all of us with clothes on."

"I'm glad. Hadn't thought about that. Of course, on the beach, all nude, girls can only chase guys away or immediately assume that they only have one thing in mind."

The girls and I nodded. I hadn't thought about that either. Petra smirked slightly and remarked: 

"Even if we weren't entirely against something happening, but meeting them that way was much nicer."

"They thought so too," Anna added. 

We all smiled and had another sip of wine. After a moment's silence, Marge asked softly: 

"And what would you have done for two weeks here, if you hadn't met them and hadn't wanted to agree to meet guys on the beach?"

The girls glanced at each other, looking a little embarrassed, more embarrassed, blushing. Marge nodded slightly and said something in German. The girls nodded shyly with red faces. Marge said something else in German. This time the girls snorted with small, abashed smiles, nodding again with furtive glances at me. Marge snorted and said three or four more words in German. They glanced at me more openly, but with slightly quizzical expressions. Marge noticed them and replied: "Oh," and couple of more words in German.

The girls chuckled with slight grins, nodding as they looked at me again. 

Marge also grinned with a snort. Before I could ask what that was all about, she explained:

"I guessed why they were suddenly embarrassed and said that I also have slept with girls, then that you knew, and then that you liked it."

I nodded with a grin. We all snickered, almost laughing, and I remarked: 

"Why not?"

The girls chuckled, nodding with grins. Then Petra snorted and asked: 

"Why did you tell him?"

Marge glanced at me with smirk, nodding for me to reply:

"Just sort of happened: We were lying on our stomachs, looking up the beach, well, looking at the nearest woman, lying on her back. You can imagine, and Marge asked if I wouldn't want to lick it."

The girls giggled, and I continued: 

"So I asked her why that had occurred to her, and you can imagine the rest."

Marge nodded with smirk, and the girls giggled again, almost laughing. Petra glance over at Anna and replied: 

"Something like that, since our last year in 'Gymnasium' - high school ..."

"When we didn't have a boyfriend," Anna admitted with a wry smile. 

"I like that," I replied with an understanding smile, adding: 

"Why not? I like to do what you must, what Marge asked. Must be good, knowing how it feels - what you're doing."

Marge nodded strongly, giving me a grin. The girls nodded slightly, exchanging wry smiles. Anna remarked softly: 

"But it's better with men."

"Sometimes, but with them, here," Petra added.

Anna nodded with a slightly abashed grin, taking a sip. The rest of us also did. Marge asked: 

"Do they know?"

The girls again looked a little embarrassed, nodding, and Petra replied: 

"We told them."

"You told them!"

"Okay, I told them, Hmm? Why? Oh, they asked the same thing, more or less."

"You didn't have to tell them."

"But they didn't mind, not after two nights with us."

"Petra!"

"Don't start to be shy about it; you had done it with another girl before we did, and a couple others more than me since."

"Only one more than you, and maybe you didn't tell."

"Okay, only one. Didn't tell them that. Oh, they liked that we had, at least, they wanted us to show them."

"We were drunk."

"Enough that you agreed to."

Anna looked a little embarrassed again, but nodded with another wry smile. Petra grinned at Marge and me, apparently enjoying her story. We three took a sip from our almost empty glasses, and then Anna did. Petra continued with another grin: 

"She shouldn't complain; it was real good. So we did, and then they wanted to join in. You can imagine how. Oh, it was good! Getting it both ways, and they thought it was too."

"I bet!" I agreed.

Anna nodded with chuckle and relaxed grin. Marge also grinned and nodded, remarking: 

"Sort of like this morning, with him in me and both our hands making it better for me."

Anna nodded again, her expression suggesting that she was a little surprised by Marge's description. Petra just snorted with a grin and replied: 

"Better; we had done that already." 

Anna gave wry smile as she nodded in agreement. Then Petra chuckled and said: 




Bastille Day Ch. 03



"Oh yes, that too: the first nights, we had paired off, sleeping with the same guy, but then we discovered that it was the other one this time. Hm-hmm!"

"Surprise?" I asked. The girls nodded, Petra replying: 

"But good - not just what happened - that after that we sort of took turns, instead of just doing it with one guy the whole time. They hadn't planned for that to happen - I don't think - but we all agreed that two weeks having sex with just one person might suggest more than any of us wanted."

Anna nodded more strongly with a smile, and Marge and I nodded, glancing at each other. I rubbed her thigh, and we emptied our glasses. She remarked: 

"Better than this morning? Must be really good."

"For you."

"But they liked it too."

Petra nodded with a grin. I snorted and remarked: 

"But we'd need help; ain't going to happen." 

I collected our empty glasses and put them on the desk, then gestured at the minibar and asked: 

"Anyone want anything more? I do."

"Me too," Marge agreed with smirk, holding her knees together.

"Me too," Petra added, and then Anna agree with a nod.

I opened the minibar and found the half bottle of vodka and a can of Sprite. The others nodded, and I poured modest amounts of vodka and filled our glasses with the Sprite. I passed the glasses around, not sure they we each got out original glass, and sat back down again. We raised our glasses and drank. Marge surprised me again, asking the girls: 

"Why do you shave?"

"Why don't you?" Petra asked.

"I asked first; tell you then." 

Petra glanced at Anna and then replied: 

"I guess it started with a girl in our class when we were fifteen or sixteen. Her mother was French and they took vacations in France. Don't know if she had been on nude beaches. Maybe her mother shaved. Anyway, that fall she was. I guess some had seen girls on internet. Whatever, so then another one did, and another, and then most of the class. Saw each other showering after sports."

"Before anyone else could see? Marge asked.

"Not our mothers, I hope. And back then, no boys, of course."

"Hmm? Just because the others did?"

"I guess. Hm-hmm! Of course, we probably all were playing with ourselves, looking forward to a boy's seeing."

"Hm-hmm!" I chuckled: "If they had only known!"

Both girls nodded with smirks, and we all chuckled and had a sip. Marge snorted and said: 

"Looks nice, like that girl's on the beach. Before you ask again: I might have, but I was working on my tan at my brother's and sister's pool, and she didn't."

"With your brother?" Anna asked.

"Um-hmm, easier than with another man, and with his wife there. And then, when I thought about shaving, it was too late."

"I told her that it would look even funnier if she had a white triangle down there, just calling more attention to her muschi."

The word slipped out inadvertently, but the girls snorted with grins. Marge explained: 

"That's what I call it, remembering the German student that used it. Hm-hmm! Used the word."

We all snickered and had a sip. Petra remarked with a grin: 

"That's what we call it, too. Hm-hmm! Shouldn't a pussy have nice soft fur?"

We all laughed, nodding and having another sip. I snorted and remarked: 

"Sure can see them better without." 

The girls and Marge smirked with chuckles, and she replied: 

"I already knew where you were looking all the time."

"Yours is as pretty as any, ... even the sweet young ones."

I hoped I wasn't as drunk as I was letting my remarks might suggest. Marge snorted and replied softly: 

"Like Petra's and Anna's?"

The girls just snickered. I grinned at them and replied: 

"If you think so; haven't really seen them."

They snickered again, and maybe I just wanted to think that I noticed their knees move. Marge grinned and asked them: 

"And what about the men's, that you try not to look at?"

This time the girls more giggled than snickered. Petra chuckled and took a sip and replied: 

"I like yours better. Oh! I mean, I like ones like yours better, ... more fun to play with."

Anna looked very surprised. Marge grinned and said: 

"You're right. I do too. If I had known that, I wouldn't have waited till the next day to find out."

The girls giggled again, and I replied:

"Hmm! Could have told me, asked me in an email, maybe asked me if you should shave. Wouldn't have mattered."

We all laughed and had another sip. Anna now seemed to be enjoying our banter as much as Petra was. I suddenly notice that another button of Marge's blouse was open, and that one of Petra's was, and then that she undid another one, smiling at me. I don't know if Marge had also noticed that, but she rubbed my thigh - more fondled it - and looked directly at Petra and said: 

"If you want to play with it, I won't mind."

Anna giggled. Petra glanced down at my crotch and then back at Marge, and murmured: 

"Should have taken off my skirt."

"I wouldn't have minded, still don't," I murmured.

Marge undid the next to last button of her blouse, and another one of Petra's was open, the erect nipples of her perky breasts seeming to spread the view of her tanned skin between the edges of her blouse. Cleavage wasn't the appropriate word to describe what could be seen, but that didn't make it less attractive - arousing. I felt my cock rise between my pants and thigh and smiled at Petra, having to wait a moment until her eyes rose and met mine. Her hands move to open her skirt. Marge smiled at Anna and murmured: 

"If she wants to."

The last button of her blouse opened. Anna's nipples were very erect. Petra was moving to slip her skirt under her ass. Anna glanced back and forth at Marge and me - also down at my crotch - and then back at Marge and asked: 

"What are we going to do?"

"Anything you want," Marge replied soft, fondling her breast, her thighs twitching. Anna's also did, and Marge murmured: 

"I think she wants to play with it."

Petra nodded, staring at my crotch as she drew her legs out of her skirt. I opened my pants, glad that I wasn't wearing a belt, only having to unhook the fastening, nudging my cock around, hoping it wouldn't spring out before Marge and Anna could agree to something. 

Anna nodded, that is, I assumed that she did, only having eyes for Petra, seeing her lay aside her skirt and open the last buttons of her blouse. Her panties were more conservative than I had expected, white cotton, but when she spread her legs a little, I could see that they were already moist. Too late to worry about my cock's springing out. I unzipped, and it did. Petra smiled. I heard Anna sniff in surprise. Marge murmured: 

"Let them; I want to lick your sweet muschi, ... and to feel you lick mine."

The way Anna's thighs snapped together was evident without my shifting my eyes from Petra, seeing her finish opening her blouse, flipping it open, revealing her perky breasts and erect nipples. Her eyes shifted back and forth from cock and face, as she let her blouse slip off her shoulders.

Anna must have nodded. Marge stood up, her blouse dropping down on the floor, as she passed between Petra and me, murmuring: 

"Let me."

I remembered the bows that held up Anna's dress. I wanted to see her nice breasts, but more wanted to watch Petra, who had also stood up and was beginning to slide her panties down. She smiled with a hum, as I stood up and my pants dropped. I whipped my polo shirt over my head, hoping it seemed a youthful motion, as it occurred to me that I was about to have sex with a girl young enough to be my daughter. What did she want to do?

She stepped out of her panties, and I struggled to step out of my pants. As our eyes shifted up and down, we were no longer smiling. Free of my pants, I turned and flung back the covers of Marge's bed, and dropped down on my back. She almost dove down next to me, her thigh immediately over mine as she rolled towards me.

I was relieved to see that the covers on my bed were also flung back.

Petra's hand slid down and found my erect cock and demonstrated her pleasure that she could rub the skin up and down. She hummed and murmured: 

"More fun than the others, for you too, I hope."

"If it's more fun for you," I murmured and fondled her very firm breast, adding: 

"And I like your perky breasts. 'Perky,' that's the way I think of them since the first time I saw them."

"Hm-hmm! I like them, too."

"What do you want to do?"

"Anything, everything!"

"That's a big order. Maybe we shouldn't do anything that takes longer than what they do."

"They can do it twice; ... I know she can."

I snorted, and for a few moments we enjoyed fondling each other, exchanging soft hums in response to what her fingers were doing on my cock, and mine, on her nipple. Then she murmured: 

"Oh, this all started to tell Marge about what we did."

"Better than what she and I did this morning."

"Um-hmm. We should do that; you should do that."

"And you?"

"Hmm? Hm-hmm! She can lick my muschi, and I, Anna's."

"All three of you?"

"And you with Marge."

"If they want to."

"They will."

Petra snorted and rolled back, and we looked over to see Marge and Anna with their heads between the other's thighs. When Petra softly called "Stop!" they started and were still. As she rolled further and began to stand up, she continued: 

"We want Marge to know what that was like, like I was telling."

They rolled apart, looking at her with surprised expressions. As I followed Petra, she explained: 

"The three of us, and him with Marge."

It was a moment before Marge comprehended her suggestion and then grinned, remarking: 

"And I get to lick your muschi?"

"Or I get to lick yours."

"No you don't," Anna replied, grinning. 

"I wanted to lick both of yours, anyway," Marge replied, grinning again.

"Lucky! I did too," I remarked. 

We all snickered, and for several moments the women moved around on the bed, forming a triangle with space for me to lie behind Marge. I waited to lie down, very much enjoying watching them draw each other's hips closer and find the other's pussy with their mouth - no, muschis; the word they all used. 

Another image suddenly came to mind. No, not another video, that of the coat of arms of the Isle of Man, three legs joined in a circle. They all sure knew what they were doing! But before my cock forgot what it was supposed to do ...! 

I lay down and heard Marge chuckle in her throat. I knew the sound from hearing her chuckle when my cock was in her mouth, but now I was guiding it in behind her ass. But first Anna's tongue found it. Marge seemed understand that she wanted to have it first, drawing her leg up over Anna's shoulder. Good idea; it wasn't as stiff as it could be. But in Anna's mouth it soon was again.

Despite her having been embarrassed when hearing Petra talk, now she sure wasn't reluctant to do anything, and she sure knew how to suck cock! She didn't release it, until Marge's hips twitched. Then it seemed that she was reluctant to relinquish it. Marge rocked her hips back, and Anna's tongue helped it find her opening. How could she be embarrassed with such experience?!

Damn! I've gotten carried away again. This is supposed to be about the group's experience. Well, this is, sort of, not just about Marge and me. 

To make it short - but it wasn't. My cock was deep in Marge's muschi, and Anna was again arousing her clitoris, and I could feel that the others were too, and Marge's muschi was arousing me, without my having to do much, like when she sucked my cock. I have already said that that was indescribably good, and I hoped that it was for her too.

Keeping it short: with wet noises from three muschis, we all came, not simultaneously, but that only prolonged our mutual enjoyment. When we all rolled back and had recovered, Marge thanked Petra and Anna - and me. And I also thanked them, finding one of their breasts to fondle. Then Marge remarked, not entirely facetiously: 

"Too good! Couples shouldn't know it can be like that."

"Even if they do it like we did this morning?" I replied.

"Hmm? Maybe, ... just maybe."

"If you do know?"

"Hmm? Hm-hmm! Worth trying."

We all chuckled, finding other hands also fondling breasts. After a silent pause, we got up and crowded into the bathroom, washing ourselves, the women washing their faces, not without snickers as we watched each other. Back in the room, we looked at the radio clock and Anna said: 

"Oh, we've got to get back to our room before they come."

"But I haven't really played with his nice cock yet," Petra replied. 

How seriously she meant it was not clear, but Marge answered: 

"You can stay here, if you want to."

"And I shouldn't? We promised we would stick together. I don't want to be alone with both of them."

"That could be fun," Petra replied."

"Still, we promised."

Marge snorted with a grin and said: 

"If you've promised; good idea. Hm-hmm! But I haven't." 

She looked at me. I nodded, recalling our glances when the talk had been about it's being better not to spend the whole two weeks with just one partner. The girls' expressions suggested that they hadn't followed my thoughts, perhaps also those of Marge. I snorted and to help them asked: 

"You want to surprise them, and we three stay here?"

Marge nodded, and then the girls did, and Marge said: 

"Like you four discussed, so we don't spend two weeks with just one partner."

The girls and I nodded. Marge and I exchanged smiles, as Anna asked: 

"And we stay here? For the same reason?"

"Because you promised to stay together," I suggested.

Marge nodded. Petra grinned with a snort and said: 

"If you want to. They'll be surprised."

"You want to sleep with them?" Anna asked.

"If it happens, why not. ... And if it doesn't, at least, they'll know where you are, and together."

"And both safe in the arms of an older man," I added with a smirk.

We all chuckled, grinning, glancing at each other, and I was pleased with their response to my reference to my age. After a moment, Petra said to Marge: 

"If you want to. ... Hm-hmm! I'll take the risk about being 'safe' in his arms, your arms," she added, giving me a grin. 

Anna also grinned, remarking: 

"If we have to stay together, I get one arm, at least."

I held out my arms, and they both slipped under them, putting an arm around my back. I held them closer, grinning at Marge, who grinned back, and replied: 

"I'd better hurry, before I feel left out."

As Marge started to find her clothes, Petra replied: 

"Tell them that it wasn't our idea, but that we think it's a good one."

"Also for that reason," Anna added.

The girls' arms held me a little tighter, and mine held them tighter. Marge grinned at me and asked: 

"Will you be safe in their arms?"

"I'll risk it."

We all snickered. I thought that Petra might reach for my cock again, but she didn't. Anna had a more practical thought, telling Marge that the card-key to their room was in the pocket of her dress and telling her their room number. We three exchanged smiles with Marge as she found her sandals. As she wished us "good night" with a smirk, she added to me: 

"Oh, wait for me before you go to breakfast."

I nodded, and we three grinned and said "good night," and then she was gone.



Bastille Day Ch. 04



The girls' arms held me a little tighter, and mine held them tighter. Marge grinned at me and asked: 

"Will you be safe in their arms?"

"I'll risk it."

We all snickered. I thought that Petra might reach for my cock again, but she didn't. Anna had a more practical thought, telling Marge that the card-key to their room was in the pocket of her dress and telling her their room number. We three exchanged smiles with Marge as she found her sandals. As she wished us "good night" with a smirk, she added to me: 

"Oh, wait for me before you go to breakfast."

I nodded, and we three grinned and said "good night," and then she was gone.

The girls looked up at me with grins, and we all held each other closer again, my arms drawing them around in front of me. Their other arm slipped around the other's waist, drawing their hips together. 

I'm getting carried away again, for the most obvious reason, recalling the details of the rest of the night and the morning. Leaving out most of the details and descriptions of the arousing sensations: 

We found our half empty glasses and emptied them, and went to bed - Marge's, which hadn't suffered three wet, female orgasms. The girls both wanted to play with my cock, eventually agreeing that one could suck it until the other one, sitting on my face, insisted on sliding down to be fucked and have her muschi licked. The other one extracted her promise that they would do it the other way in the morning. 

Did I enjoy it?! Having my cock sucked while licking a young, shaven muschi?! And then more being fucked by than fucking that tight young muschi, while it was being licked, also my balls?! Indescribable!!

We moved to go to sleep. I had a girl under each arm, one of their thighs on mine and their hands between them, sharing holding my cock and balls. Petra, who had generously let Anna go first, reminded her that we were going to do it again in the morning. As I was falling asleep, I wondered if I should thank the young men for letting me share their experience with the girls. I probably should have thought about Marge's being with them, but I didn't.

To my surprise, we were still lying pretty much the same way in the early morning, probably from the effects of the alcohol and all our orgasms. When we were all awake, Petra immediately reminded Anna again that it was her turn. But first, we all had to go to the bathroom. 

After that interruption, it was a little strange to get back in bed with them, all of us knowing what we were going to do, but without any aroused, erotic feelings. Petra didn't let that bother her, remarking again: "Now it's my turn." as she immediately moved to straddle my face. Anna moved down and fondled my soft cock and slack sack. 

Erotic and aroused feelings soon developed, however - of course! We did it all again. Anna didn't lick my balls, but that didn't occur to me until it was all over; it was still indescribably good.

Very pleased with ourselves, we lay as we had before, chuckling warmly. They again fondled my now soft cock and my balls in my very slack sack, and I fondled their breasts. When I remarked that it was a little funny to be holding two different breasts, they chuckled, and Petra replied: 

"About as funny as both of us to be holding you." 

Anna nodded on my shoulder, and they both fondled me a little more intensively for a moment. Then Anna snorted and asked: 

"I wonder what happened in our room."

Petra and I snorted, and we agreed that we hoped it had been as good as with us. That suggested that it was time to get up. We joked about showering together, but three of us together wasn't practical. I said that I would shave while the two of them did. Behind the shower curtain, there was chuckles and giggles, while I shaved at the washbasin for a change. 

Two clean, almost innocent looking girls reappeared, grinning at me. Petra smirked and remarked: 

"Oh! A naked man!"

We all laughed. I handed them towels and started my shower. They weren't in the bathroom when I stepped out to dry myself. When I returned to the room, they were already dressed. I suppose that I could have expected that, but hadn't, suddenly feeling very naked. I guess my expression showed it; the girls grinned and this time Anna spoke: 

"Oooh! A naked man!"

"As if I didn't know," I replied, returning their grins.

"A very nice naked man," Petra remarked with a sweet smile. Anna nodded.

"Maybe you should go to breakfast, ... and don't smirk or grin too much."

"We'll try not to," Anna agreed. Petra nodded, but they both smirked and grinned, and left the room, thinking to ask me to tell Marge good morning from them.

As I dressed, I chuckled to myself, thinking: old man, that's never going to happen again, having sex with three young women in one night! I sat down and picked up the newspaper, waiting for Marge. 

Nothing in the paper could distract me from wondering how her night had been. How surprised had the men been to find her instead of the girls in their room? Of course, they would have gone to the girls' room with the anticipation of sleeping with them. And then? Marge had apparently been anticipating that they would, wanting them to with her, knowing about what the girls and I would doing. And we sure had! But had they - and how?! 

A few minutes later the door open and she appeared, snorting, giving me a wry smile, and smirking, then asking: 

"Are they gone?"

"I sent them to breakfast, already dressed when I came from my shower."

"Hm-hmm! That's not going to happen again."

"What I was thinking after they left."

"Hmm? Like me, three times in one night."

"With three different persons."

She was already undressed and nodded, remarking: 

"I need a shower. Oh, I wasn't raped; I was wanting it, going there. You had good time?"

"Very, but you first, we only did what you probably expected."

"Hmm! Only?! Come with me."

I followed her into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet while she started her shower and told: 

"Oh, we had a very good time, just to clarify that. But suddenly on the way to their room, I realized that I had expecting it to be like in a dream: that they would immediately know what I wanted, but, of course, it couldn't be like that. They were going to be surprised to find me there: lots of questions and explaining. At least, I had time to think about that, waiting for them, naked in one of the beds, yeah, half sitting with the covers just covering my nipples."

"I'll try to imagine their surprise."

"Oh, it was great, but they didn't look displeased, asking the obvious question. I told them about having drinks with the girls in our room and that the conversation got more interesting, especially when one of them mentioned that she like your cock better - ones like yours, more fun to play with. They immediately snickered and one said 'Petra.' I nodded, and we all smirked. 

"They then asked why I was there, which made it easy for me tell that she had told us what they had done together Thursday night, and how good it was. More smirks and snickers as they nodded. I left out what we had then done and made it sound like Petra wanted to do that with you and me. Hmm! Had to clarify that I had no problem with doing something with her. They liked that."

"Like I do - and the girls."

"Um-hmm! They like that they do, of course, or it wouldn't have happened. Then I explained that the suggestion for Anna to go back to their room and wait for them was counter to their agreement to always stay together. 'So here I am instead,' I finished. Did the covers just slip down from my breasts, or did I help them?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! I'm sure it didn't make any difference to them."

"No! I guess that was when they really understood why I was there. As they started undressing, of course, one asked what you and the girls were going to do. 'Play with his cock I suppose, the best way they know how,' I replied, adding: 'I think like Thursday night with you.' They grinned with humming chuckles, and one said: "Lucky man!' I replied: 'And lucky girls, both of them, I hope.'"

"Oh, I sure was, and I think both of them were. Petra said that Anna could go first, with the promise that she would get her turn. She got it this morning. While Petra sucked my cock, Anna sat on my face - nice young muschi, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Hm-hmm! Of course not. Petra's was, too. And?"

"Until Anna insisted on being fucked - well, more fucking me - ..."

"In her 'nice young muschi'! Lucky you!" Marge interjected.

"Like the men said! Yours is too. Oh, and Petra didn't just lick her, she also licked my balls. Anna didn't do that this morning, but it was just as good, all over again, licking Petra's muschi and then fucking ..."

"In her 'nice young muschi'," she interjected again.

"Yes, but I didn't want to say that again."

Marge had finished her shower and was drying herself, smirking and grinning at me. She snorted and replied: 

"Just to get even: and their nice young cocks."

"Fair enough; this was also about not too much, two weeks ..., you know."

"Oh, I told them about that, and they agreed. That was as we were about to go to sleep."

"But not before ...?"

"Hmmm! Hm-ummm! I wasn't sure how we would do it. They understood what I wanted, but I had doubts if one of them would want to lick my muschi while another cock was so near, but when I said that I wanted to suck one of theirs .... By then they had taken turns going to the bathroom and washing a little, and I had flung back the covers, and their cocks both looked like they wanted to be sucked. 

"Anyway, that was no problem. Don't know if they had done that with the girls, but one immediately dropped down on the bed, offering me his cock, and drawing my hips closer. Hmmm! He sure knew what to do! The other one did too, this morning, and neither was bothered by the other's cock being in my muschi."

"Enough details, or we won't go to breakfast."

"Oh, we shall; I need a good breakfast, also a little time to forget what it's like to have two men making it good for me."

"Same for me, the other way."

We grinned, and I watched her finish getting dressed, including a bra. As she explained: 

"I don't want them to show if they pop out when I see them."

We chuckled and went down to breakfast. Most of the other guests had already finished, but the girls and young men were sitting together at one end of them room. We chose a table further away. When they saw us, we all smiled broadly and nodded. Anna seemed equally involved in their low pitched conversation. As we sat down, I asked Marge: 

"Did they pop out?"

"Not really. Hm-hmm! Wonder what their version is like."

"Hopefully as good as ours, plus what you didn't tell them."

"Hm-hmm! They'll understand and like to hear that too."

"Oh, how was their evening in the casino?"

"I have no idea. Maybe the girls have asked."

I've gotten carried away again. It will probably happen again.

Lying on the beach that morning, I had no fears that my cock would respond to my enjoying the sight of shaven pussies or my comparing them with Petra's and Anna's muschis, as I recalled the way I had seen them, not just seen them. I was complimenting myself on my good luck and the fact that young girls had wanted to play with my cock every way they could and had enjoyed it as much as I had. My pleasant reverie was interrupted by Marge, who apparently had also been recalling her experiences with the young men: 

"Hmm? Oh, it was good, real good, but a couple of times I suddenly wondered about myself; recognizing that I was enjoying sex with two men, like in some videos, ones that I had thought weren't very complimentary of the woman. You know how I mean."

She glanced over at me with wry smile. I returned it, nodding with a shrug. After a moment, she added: 

"I guess I shouldn't think about them that way, not if I have to admit that I went to their room wanting it to happen and enjoying that it did."

"I guess not. I feel about the same way about those videos, thinking it could never happen in real life, but it did, ... and for you."

"Hmm! And as good as in them, and for you too, like in some other videos?"

"Um-hmm. Even better; we know we all really came, while in those videos, you can only be sure the cumshot was an orgasm."

"And that only for viewers to see. Where ever his cock was, she would rather have it come in her."

"Like you would."

"And he would."

"Mmmm! For sure!"

We grinned at each other. Then she remarked:

"Yes, no. Hmm? Maybe women aren't so different, just a little surprising to discover that at the first opportunity I would immediately offer to go sleep with two men I hardly knew."

"Hmm! Well, you 'know' them now, or in the Bible is it always just the man who 'knows' a woman?"

"Hm-hmm! Same difference."

"And besides, it was also to avoid our just making too much love for two weeks."

"Hmm! A really good excuse. Thanks for reminding me."

Marge turned her head and grinned at me and then suggested that we swim. 

We did, competing a little, as we had before. When we were standing in shoulder deep water, we smirked and fondled each other, like other couples we could see, snickering and kissing a little. While she was fondling my cock, she snorted and remarked: 

"Like Petra said, yours is more fun to play with."

"Hmm! I hope you didn't tell them that."

"Of course not!"

We smirked and swam again, enjoying another pause to fondle. This time, she was obviously trying to get my cock to respond, frowning at her lack of success. Then she grinned and said: 

"You've been fucking too much, probably with - no, in - tight young muschis."

"How'd you guess?"

We grinned and kissed again, better than before. Then we swam for a little, sidestroking and smirking at each other. When we returned to the shore, we observed other couples who had also been in the water, noticing a couple of cocks sticking out, well below the horizontal. Marge chuckled and remarked: 

"They obviously didn't do it enough last night."

"Hmm! Maybe they just met."

We snickered and walked back towards our towels. Then we saw someone wave to us, recognizing Buffy, who beckoned for us to join him, then seeing that he was sitting with Sans-culotte and Stephan and their women. As we joined them, I was glad that my cock was relaxed. He gestured for us to find space on their towels. When we had, he explained that they had been talking about his idea of a flash mob at the next Bastille Day parade. 

Sans-culotte nodded with a smile, and said: 

"I was telling him that there were a lot more police around than just those we saw on both sides of the Champs Élysées, plainclothesmen. You probably couldn't get your clothes off fast enough to do anything. Hm-hmm! At least, if you got them all off, they would see that you didn't have a weapon or a bomb."

We all chuckled, nodding. I remembered the saying from my army basic training and held my hands as though raising a rifle and said: 

"This is my rifle; this is my gun. This is for fighting; this is for fun," glancing down at my cock. 

They all chuckled, not without glances at Marge, who nodded with a smile. Buffy remarked: 

"Hadn't heard that before."

"You weren't drafted."

"Nope. Didn't need the Army to teach me what's for fun."

We all chuckled again, and Sans-culotte remarked: 

"I was suggesting that a flash mob during the Tour de France would be less hazardous and probably just as successful, if you want TV coverage."

Buffy nodded his agreement that that was he had in mind. The expressions of the rest of us indicated that we weren't so sure, but no one shook their head. Buffy said that if we were a group, no one would be seen long enough to be recognized and that probably anyone who could - Americans - wouldn't be watching. We all nodded, apparently more receptive to the idea.

Sans-culotte explained that due to his position in a government ministry he couldn't participate, but that he would be willing to help us. He nodded at his friend and added: 

"Can't use my email, I'll let Etienne handle communication."

He nodded with a smirk, remarking: 

"Of course, we'll have to hope the tour on Bastille Day, Nude Day, isn't in the Pyrenees, preferably like this year somewhere on the coast, since we'll want another vacation like here."

We all nodded with smiles. Buffy looked pleased that we were liking the idea, then remarking that if it worked out, we would, of course, need many more participants. San-culotte chuckled and said that if we found a convenient nudist resort we might be able to recruit others there. We all chuckled, nodding, and Buffy said: 

"International Nude Day, another Literotica forum."

More nods and chuckles. Marge and I got up, suggesting that we would probably see each other again before dinner, and wandered back to our towels. We agreed that we wouldn't miss the Nude Day flash mob if it materialized, smiling as we exchanged glances that included each other's nude body, tacitly suggesting that we both were hoping we might spend another vacation together.

Back at our towels, we sat down, chuckling a little as we exchanged comments about Buffy's plan and about people sunning on the beach and those walking past, deciding that some of the females were just as much voyeurs as the single men, who obviously were. Marge agreed with me that it it was more interesting to look at the females, adding: 

" ... not because I want to do anything with them; women - young women - are just more attractive than naked men."

"You didn't have to explain that, but you know I wouldn't mind, if you did."

"We proved that last night, the three of us. Must have looked interesting."

"Very. Hm-hmm! Good thing that Petra insisted that it was to let you know how good it would be; else I might have had difficulty choosing."

"Didn't have to, just took turns."

"Like you did."

"Um-hmm, for lack of anything better to do."

We chuckled and smirked. After sunning for a while, we had to go swimming again - the call of nature. As we returned to our towels, Petra caught up with us. My first thought at seeing her was that I would love to suck her perky breasts, something I had been looking forward to the night before, until she changed our plans. She waved and called: 

"Hi! There you are. I was looking for you."

We beckoned for her to join us. As we sat down, we all smiled a little wryly. Marge avoided comments about how we had spent the night, remarking: 

"Oh, I should have asked them. How was it at the casino"

"That's why I was looking for you. One was pretty lucky and wants to invite us all to dinner at a better restaurant than in the hotel. The other one limited his losses, he said."

"That's nice," Marge replied, glancing at me to see my response. We both nodded with a shrug, and I replied: 

"If he wants to, very nice."

"He says we'll have to put on real clothes. They found the place yesterday."

We all snorted with smiles, nodding. In the moment of silence, I guess we all were thinking about how we had spent the night, more wondering about what she had heard, and she wondering about what Marge had told me. We all smirked slightly. Petra's nipples tightened, and she snorted again and remarked to Marge: 

"You didn't tell them what we did before you left."

"Hmm! No. Didn't think they needed to know; had enough trouble explaining to myself why I was there waiting for them."

"Oh, they liked that."

"I did, too."

"That too. I meant what we did. They chuckled and said that they wished they had also been there."

I snorted with a grin and remarked: 

"If we had known what was going to happen, you could have left a message for them to join us."

"But we didn't,"Marge replied, giving me slightly disapproving glance.




Bastille Day Ch. 04



"I didn't, but it wasn't me who took off her skirt in the bathroom and started to unbutton her blouse."

Petra nodded with a grin, then Marge also nodded slightly with a wry smile, remarking in self-defense: 

"But I didn't know what would happen, and certainly not what did."

"Just a small orgy, or two or three," I replied with a conciliatory smile.

Marge snorted with another wry smile, nodding and admitting: 

"Maybe I did want to know what might happen."

"Oh, it was all good," Petra replied, then smirking and adding with a glance down at my cock: 

"Just didn't get to play with it as much as I wanted."

"Your own fault for remembering that you wanted Marge to know what was so good. Also kept me for sucking your perky breasts."

Her nipples popped out again. She grinned and nodded, glancing down at them - also at my cock again. Marge snorted, wrinkling her nose, but then grinned and remarked: 

"You two, ... but I guess that is part of our being here. Hmm! And I am in no position to complain."

We all smiled, nodding. Petra remarked softly: 

"We sure didn't expect it to be like this, Anna and I, also our friends. Thanks for introducing us."

Marge smiled with a nod, replying: 

"Then it's all my fault."

"Probably not; they said that they had already seen us; you just made it easier."

We all smiled again. Petra started to get up, adding: 

"I'll go tell them. Oh, they think maybe we shouldn't meet in the bar and then go off. We'll call your room, probably about eight."

"Coat and tie?" I asked.

"I'll ask them, tell you then."

We all smiled again, and Marge and I watched her leave, the delightful view of a young woman, completely unconcerned that she was totally naked, her perky breasts moving a little. Marge and I glance at each other, snorting with wry smiles. She remarked: 

"I'd want to suck them, too."

"Why not? ... Left one or right one?" and we snickred with grins.

We sunned some more and then decided to explore the nudist shopping area. The first week, we had been shy of being naked anywhere except on the beach, surprised to hear from others that people went shopping that way. We had also been surprised to see families with young teenagers on the beach, boys with their first pubic hairs, and girls with just budding breasts. When we saw the first boy like that, obviously totally unaroused, I had to snort and told Marge: 

"At that age - is he twelve or thirteen? - mine stuck out whenever I thought about it, and sometimes when I didn't."

"Hmm! In school?"

"Um-hmm. I wasn't the only boy who always had a book to hold in front of it."

"Hm-hmm! Maybe I should have been looking?"

"Hope none of the girls in my school were."

So we went to the shops, still a little surprised to be so close to other naked persons, almost all the women shaven and many of the men too. Marge whispered to me that they didn't have to hear us speaking English to know that we were foreigners. We also wondered that naked people would want to shop for anything except food, especially for clothing. 

We returned to our room and showered, agreeing that we both thought we had done enough the night before, despite our washing each other, then agreeing to nap. We lay on our backs, our legs overlapping, but just to keep in contact, and dozed off. Having had sex with three women the night before and spending most of the day in the sun made that easy.

Eventually we woke up, and Marge suggested having coffee from the boiler and packets of instant coffee on the desk. It was rather surprising how normal it had become to be naked with her after a week, despite having enjoyed more sex with her than I had during my honeymoon thirty years before, and with the expectation that we would have more. As she handed me my cup on a saucer, offering sugar or cream, with all the formality appropriated to a much different situation, she smirked with a snort and remarked: 

"No reason to forget good manners."

"Just what I was thinking. Thank you. Just sugar, please."

She nodded with a smile and held out the basket with sugar and coffee whitener. She sat down with her cup, and we stirred and then smiled and drank, both snorting at our polite after-dinner-coffee manners. That, however, didn't keep her from making a comment that wasn't so appropriate to after-dinner conversation, but maybe it was - about after dinner the coming evening. She snorted slightly and said: 

"I wonder how serious the men were, when they mentioned that they would have liked to have been with us yesterday evening." 

Her tone and noncommittal expression were, on the other hand, those of a person opening an after-dinner conversation. I knew immediately what she was referring to and replied in the same tenor, without snorting: 

"I don't know; seems like a sort of natural response to the girls' telling them about it. You know: the obvious thing to say, showing their interest that it had been good."

We continued our conversation in the same even tone, as though we were discussing our impressions of something we had seen somewhere. Marge replied: 

"Yes, I guess so; of course. Better than snickering and saying something about just the four of us."

"Um-hmm, and what we did just invited the suggestion that they could have joined in."

"I suppose it did."

We had a sip of coffee. After a moment, she continued: 

"I was wondering if it was a suggestion about tonight, after dinner. He's treating."

"That occurred to me, too. I was thinking we would have a quiet evening together, ... well, maybe not entirely quiet."

Marge nodded with a smile and replied: 

"Me too, not that it all wasn't good last night, just a bit much, a lot more than I ever anticipated."

"Um-hmm, for me, too."

We both smiled and had another sip, and then were silent for a moment. Then I murmured: 

"Want me to be honest?"

She nodded with a quizzical expression. 

"When Petra said that, I did wonder if it might happen - not tonight - but if they - all four of them - might have agreed that that we all could do something together."

"You would want to?"

"Well, I can't do more than I can do, and we all agreed that we thought too much one-on-one was maybe not a good idea."

"Um-hmm, true, and we broke that barrier last night."

"It wasn't much of a barrier, even for you, and apparently not for the girls."

"I had already sprung, before I recognized that it was one, as I mentioned this morning - not as monogamist as I thought."

"Opportunity makes thieves - for me, too."

"Um-hmm, apparently. ... A little funny to realized that about myself."

"And funny that it is assumed that men are generally more like that."

"Um-hmm."

Marge nodded with slight smile, and we drank again. After another moment of silence, she asked: 

"And if their remark was a suggestion, turns out to be one this evening?"

"Whatever you want. We could plead off that we need a night's sleep."

"And see if the offer still stands?"

"If you want it to? ... I would."

"Um-hmm; you told us what you would want to do."

"And she did too, ... and you seconded the motion."

Marge smiled wryly with a sniff, nodding slightly, after a moment replying: 

"What you said, but I agree with her, too."

"I think you told us that last night."

"Guess I did; it's true."

She smirked slightly. When I crossed my legs, she snorted with another smirk, adding: 

"No fear; I'm not going to now. Better to wait and see what happens; can't think of a really polite way to refuse, if they suggest something."

"If we want to then."

She nodded slightly with small smile, and we finished our coffee. She collected our cups, again in the manner of a hostess after dinner, and suggested: 

"I guess we should get dressed like normal people."

I nodded, suppressing my urge to say something about how normal going nude was or that it wasn't abnormal. Instead, I remarked: 

"By then - by later this evening - we probably will, here, if not with them."

She nodded with a soft chuckle, replying: 

"That occurred to me, too: the alternative to too much just one-on-one."

We both smiled and started dressing. Petra called and said that a dress shirt but no tie or jacket would be appropriate and that the men had reserved a table for eight thirty. As we left our room, I asked Marge the men's names: 

"Ron, the one with dark hair and glasses; and William, 'Willy'. Yes, he knows what that's a British expression for."

We chuckled. As we waited for the elevator, she surprised me, asking: 

"And if they don't? You know, don't suggest something?"

"Hmm? Maybe we can survive a night just together, maybe not even do anything."

"Hmm! To prove that we can?"

Luckily, the elevator was empty, and I could continue our conversation:

"If you want to. Hm-hmm! Maybe watching each other, ... since I know that I'll want to do something."

"Hmmm! I'm like Petra; I'd rather play with it than watch you."

"Whatever? If they don't, we can suggest something for tomorrow, champagne in our room to return their hospitality."

"Hmm! After Saturday, they should know what that suggests." 

We were still smirking when the elevator door opened. Ron and Willy with Petra and Anna were waiting for us, all looking a little unusual in more formal clothes. Ron greeted us first, saying how nice it was that we had accepted his invitation for dinner. We thanked him, and I congratulated him on his good luck at the casino. He smiled and said that he had a good memory for numbers and cards and usually was lucky at blackjack. No one mentioned anything else about the previous evening, and we set off. I wondered if it was only by chance that Marge was walking between the men and I, between the girls.

The restaurant was indeed better than that in the hotel. Ron sat at one end of the table between Marge and Anna. I was next to her and Willy across from me, with Petra sitting at the other end of the table. Ron insisted that we order anything we wanted from the menu, suggesting that he was going to have something that was more expensive. When Willy and the girls also chose something further down the page, Marge and I also did. Ron deferred to the sommelier's suggestion for a good wine and insisted that we have an aperitif while we waited for our meal. 

While we waited and during the meal there was very little talk about our vacation, only that we were glad we were there, but with no references to nudity or implications about sexual activity. Ron did mention that his invitation was also to thank Marge for introducing him and Willy to the girls, all of us smiling and nodding and raising our glasses and drinking in response. 

Of course, we had a second bottle of wine. Otherwise, the conversation was about what each of us did at home: small talk, all of us finding something nice to say. I wondered if Literotica would be mentioned, but apparently the girls had already heard how the group had met - of course, the first thing they would have asked. 

As we were finishing eating, there was a lull in the conversation, all of us glancing around the table as though to suggest that someone else should say something. I wondered if both Anna's and Petra's sweet smiles at me were more than just sweet, thinking that they would know if Ron might suggest how the evening could continue. Marge's smile at me was accompanied by an almost imperceptible shrug, which I returned. Then Willy and the girls were all looking at Ron, Marge and I then also looking at him. I thought it appropriate to thank him for his hospitality, including all the others with a glance around the table. He replied that it had been his pleasure and was glad that we had had such a compatible evening, asking if anyone wanted coffee or cognac to finish the meal. 

No one did, and he beckoned for the bill, giving the waiter his credit card. While we waited for the waiter to return, we complimented the meal and his generosity, exchanging smiles again. This time, however, Petra's smile was accompanied by a nudge of my foot. When I glanced at Marge and saw one of her eyebrows rise slightly, I wondered if Ron or Willy had also nudged her foot. Which one, if one had? My eyebrow also moved. If one had, she could surmise that my response was because Petra had. Had she a favorite between Ron and Willy? During the meal, I hadn't noticed any special interest either way. Or was it all a team effort? Or was I imagining things, wanting to? I nudged Petra's foot without looking at her, and she, mine again.

Promising?! A night with her alone would be very nice!

The waiter returned. We avoided watching Ron sign the credit card slip, then thanking him again. Did I just imagine that he glanced at Willy, and that he nodded slightly? Had Marge returned his nudge of her foot? Oh! Or had she initiated it?" The waiter left. Ron put the bill and his credit card in his wallet, then looked up, hesitating for a moment, glancing around the table. Obviously, it was his move to say something. Did he get supporting smiles from Willy and the girls? I didn't look, just saw him nod slightly. 

Then I was surprised; Willy spoke:

"Uh, ... I didn't lose all my money last night and bought a bottle of champagne. If you don't have anything better to do, ..." he was glancing at Marge and then at me: " ... it would be nice to share it with you, ... sort of as my little contribution to your ..." he glanced at Marge again: " ... introducing us to Anna and Petra."

I felt Petra nudge my foot again, as I looked at Marge, seeing a slight movement of her lips that maybe only I recognized as the slightest of smirks. After a week together, I had a lot of experience with her facial expressions. The others were all looking at us with positive expressions, and Petra nudged my foot again. I smiled slightly and nodded to Marge to reply. She turned to Willy and did: 

"That would be nice," and looked at me, adding: "don't you think?"

"Of course. Also my good luck that you introduced them, that I could also enjoy this nice dinner for your initiative."

I smiled at the others, feeling Petra's foot again and wondering if the movement of her lips was the suggestion of a smirk or pursing slightly to suggest a kiss. Ron smiled broadly and said that he had hoped we would agree. Marge and I nodded. Then she suggested that maybe we all should use the restrooms in the restaurant. We all nodded and got up. 

In the men's room, the three of us standing at the urinals, Willy and Ron glanced at me with slight smirks, and Ron remarked: 

"You both surprised us last night, very pleasantly."

"We surprised ourselves, just as pleasantly."

We all chuckled. Willy commented: 

"The girls, too; surprised and pleasantly."

"Hmm! We're all very lucky, me especially."

"Not just you," they both replied with grins. 

We zipped up and left the restroom, waiting for the women, who soon joined us, all of us smirking slightly. On the walk back to the hotel, I was between and Marge and Petra, who both took my arm, following Anna between Willy and Ron. We didn't say much, just agreeing that it had been a very nice meal and that Willy's offer was also nice. I wondered if the women had had a similar conversation in the restroom, and then wondered how we would get our clothes off. 

Would one of them immediately suggest that it was uncomfortable to have them on? Wait till we had had a first sip of Willy's champagne? Or would they be expecting Marge or me to make the first move to indicate that we understood and agreed to do more? Petra had sure indicated that she anticipated that she wanted to, that she assumed that we all would. What was Marge thinking?

At the elevators, we let another couple go up alone, the six of us again smirking slightly as we waited. Then we crowded into the next elevator, all standing so that we faced each other. Only then did I notice that the top button of Marge's blouse was undone. The second one, since the top one had been open all evening. She must have undone it as we were getting in the elevator. The others also noticed, smiling with slight nods. Ron remarked to her: 

"You're right; we've been overdressed for too long."

We all snickered with smirks and undid a button of two of our shirts and blouses. When we saw that there was no one in the corridor to the Ron's and Willy's room, we snorted and continued to unbutton as we went to their door. While one of them was unlocking the door, the rest of us were pulling our shirts and blouses free of our pants and skirts. In the room, we immediately slipped out of our shoes or sandals and took off our pants and skirts. Someone turned off the overhead light and turned on the bedside lights. They hung theirs in the closet, and Marge and I draped ours over the back of the chair. Then we faced each other with smirks and took off our shirts and blouses, smiling as we men looked at their breasts, and they smiling with nods as they felt their nipples pop out in response. Again, they hung their things up, and Marge and I hung ours on the chair. Facing each other again, we all stripped off our underpants - the girls' thongs. They all landed on the desk.

"That's better," Ron remarked as he unselfconsciously jostled his cock and balls after their confinement in his jockey shorts. Willy and I did the same - I, a little less unselfconsciously, especially when I noticed Petra watching me. 

"Champagne," Willy remarked and got his bottle from the mini-bar. The girls collected the glasses, six of them, obviously in anticipation that Marge and I would join them. Willy opened the bottle carefully with just a little pop and poured. We all took a glass, smiling, smirking, and drank. Ron mentioned that they didn't like to sit on the bedspreads, and they quickly pulled them back. He gestured for us to sit on them, facing each other between them, sitting like we had walked from the restaurant.  

We had gotten our clothes off, but now what? We all had another sip, apparently sharing the same question. Petra had told us what the men thought would be a nice idea, but we men would need a little "inspiration" to join in. She had also told us what she wanted to do with me, with my "willy", and I had told her that I wanted to suck her perky breasts. We had another sip, and then Marge said something in German to the girls. They smiled, smirked, and replied, the three of them speaking a couple of times. We men exchanged quizzical smiles. Marge said something in German, and the girls nodded with smirking smiles. Marge looked at us men with her own smirking smile and said: 

"If she hasn't already told you, Petra want's to play with his cock."

Petra nodded with a grin. Her hand was already on my thigh and crept up closer to my cock. We all snorted with nods, and my cock moved, as she and I exchanged smiles. Willy asked: 

"And Anna?" smiling over at her.

"She thinks that's a good idea," Marge replied

"What? Playing with it too?"

"Hm-hmm! Maybe, but I think she meant that Petra could."

Anna nodded with a grin and remarked: 

"Both ways, but she let me go first last night."

The men chuckled with broad grins, and Petra's hand slid further, and my cock filled. We all watched her fingers slip around it. More softer chuckles, and Marge murmured: 

"I like to play with it, too."

Anna nodded and glanced at the men on either side of her, grinning. As her hands moved to grasp their now handful sized cocks, she remarked: 

"I would too, but if Petra wants to, one of these - both of these - are just as good."

"Just one!" Marge replied: "I want one too."

We all snickered with grins, and Petra demonstrated what she liked with mine, rubbing the skin up and down, now able to move her hand further. Anna's hands couldn't do as much; she grasped the bases of their now also more aroused cocks and did what she could. Ron and Willy glanced at each other with grins, and Ron remarked: 




Bastille Day Ch. 04



"Oh, let Petra do whatever she wants, then just the four of us."

They looked at Marge, who grinned with a nod, replying: 

"Good idea; we only just started with each other last night."

She patted my thigh with a grin and stood up. The others nodded, grinning, and moved to let her join them. Petra and I watched her and Anna curl up together in the middle of the bed, and then men moving to lie down behind them. Petra didn't wait to see what they would do - probably knew already from her experience with them. Without releasing my cock, she moved down off the bed and between my legs, smiling up at me and murmuring: 

"I want to do everything, every way, and want you to, too."

"Not more than I want to!"

We grinned, and then she showed me how she liked to play with my cock, rubbing the skin up and down, pushing my foreskin up around the head of my cock, as she smiled to herself and murmured: "Can't do that with theirs."

"My good luck," I murmured. She nodded, giving me a smile.

Chuckling softly, she did that a couple of times more, then licking the soft roll of skin around the tip of my cock, letting her tongue continue to circle as she pulled the skin back down, her tongue circling the almost shiny skin of my knob, making my cock twitch, when her tongue tickled the sensitive back of it. She hummed with delight, and then her lips slipped around it. Warm and moist! I moaned softly with a nod. 

From the previous evening, I already knew how good she could suck my cock and enjoyed playing with her tongue on my foreskin, but that had only been to make me aroused enough to fuck Anna. Now she wanted to do everything! 

She did! Sucking my cock until I almost came, and then releasing it and licking my balls, catching a fold of my sack with her teeth and pulling, until my sack relaxed, and then sucking each of my balls in her mouth and caressing them. She wanted to do everything! I lay back and drew my legs up, rolling my hips up and presenting my asshole. She did want to do everything! Her tongue slid down and found it, making it tighten. We both responded with moaning chuckles, as her tongue did everything I could imagine. 

Then she grasped my cock again, pulling it down. My feet dropped down on the floor, and I rose up on my elbows and watched the head of my cock disappear again. She sucked, and more of it disappeared between her lips. Why fuck, when a girl wanted to do what she was doing with her mouth?! Her head was moving up and down, and her tongue arousing me where I was most sensitive! When my cock twitched, she moaned in appreciation, but only a few times. Then my hips twitched, and I groaned, hoping she recognized that I was about to come, about to give her all the semen I felt accumulating to spurt in her mouth. She moaned in anticipation, sucking harder. My hips jerked, and I grunted, and my cock gave it to her, several times, as we both groaned. 

My cock twitched a couple of times more in response to her tongue's swilling it around in her mouth. Then she sucked gently and raised her head slowly, her lips closed around my cock as the rim of its head slipped between them. Had Ron and Willy - or the other men whose cocks she had sucked - told her that they liked to taste it? She looked up at me with a smirk, and I saw her swallow. But she hadn't swallowed it all.

She chuckled with a closed lipped grin and rose up and dove down on me, planting her lips on mine, waiting for mine to open, and then her tongue with the rest of it slipped into my mouth. I nodded, and we both chuckled as our tongues caressed. I grasped her nice, firm, little round ass - should have described it before - perfect complement to her perky breasts. Our mouths separated as I urged her to move up on me. She hummed and murmured: 

"Now my turn."

"Mmmm! And mine!"

She nodded with a soft chuckle as she got her knees up on the bed. Then she chuckled again and remarked: 

"But don't forget to suck them first - real good; I love that."

She moved up and shifted a little to the side, offering me one of her perky breasts. Hanging down - of course, it didn't really hang, just was even perkier - it was perfect to suck and nibble, better than I had been anticipating for days! I could suck her nipple in my mouth and arouse it, and she did love it, responding with encouraging, aroused moans. She liked that my teeth could grip her areola, while my tongue played with the stiff tip of her nipple, until I let my teeth scratch down and pinch it. Then she raised up a little, moaning as my teeth pulled on it. We did that a couple of times, and then she offered me her other breast, and we both enjoyed arousing it.

The last time her nipple slipped from between my teeth, with a deeper moan she demanded softly: "Now the other," and moved up over my face.

Her freshly shaven pussy - "muschi" - but now to be enjoyed until she came! 

I've gotten carried away again! Too good to stop now.

I had learned a lot more about pussies/muschis and licking them in the last few days than in all the years before. Maybe they all taste pretty much the same - always very good! - but young ones like Petra's are a special delight. Oh, Anna's and Marge's were too, but now it was Petra's I was enjoying, hoping everything I had learned would give her as much pleasure as she had given me.

I don't know if I needed her encouragement to do what I wanted to do, but it sure made it better. Of course, she also wanted me to lick her asshole, turning her hips up for my tongue to find it, and I knew from what she had done what I should do, what I wanted to do, continuing until she rocked her hips back and wanted me to do everything I could with my mouth on her muschi.

Younger men may take it for granted that they can completely satisfy a young woman that way, but I found it extremely gratifying that Petra responded to my efforts with whimpering moans and a wet, face-flushing orgasm. 

She dropped down past my head on the bed, turning her muschi from my mouth, gasping and sighing. After a few moments, she moved back down over me and murmured: 

"Gott! Du ..., God! You did that good," and licked around my mouth with a soft chuckle. 

Then she moved a little further back. My cock was, of course, aroused again. We felt it touch her. She gave a deep moan and murmured: 

"Now 'everything'."

With a rock of her hips and a twitch of my cock, we found her slippery wet muschi. She pressed back, engulfing it with another moan, and one from me. My cock twitched in her, and she relaxed on me with a pleased sounding hum, and her muschi tightened around my cock. She chuckled softly and then raised her head with a smile and whispered: 

"It feels so good. I wasn't sure it would want to."

"It does: feels so good and does want to."

"Hm-hmm! Want me to fuck you?"

"Hm-hm-hmm! 'Everything,' anything you want to do."

She chuckled again, and her muschi squeezed my cock again, and we both purred when my cock surged in her. She chuckled again and sat up and began to rock her hips, grinning down at me as we both enjoyed feeling the way she moved my cock in her. Then she looked back over her shoulder at the other bed and snorted. She looked back at me and gestured for me to sit up. When I did, I saw that on the other bed Marge and Anna had changed positions between Ron and Willy and were sucking their cocks with their new partners' heads between their thighs. Petra chuckled softly and whispered: 

"We did that too, ... of course, but not right after what they were doing."

"Hm-hmm! Must taste good."

"Um-hmm! Hope the guys don't mind."

We chuckled, and she rocked her hips again. God, a tight young pussy feels good! She murmured: 

"Suck me again," and leaned back. 

I supported her and lowered my head to one of her perky breasts. Sucking and nibbling on her nipples was even better than before, now feeling her muschi respond to the additional arousal. When one of my hand slid down to her ass, she nodded with an encouraging moan. My fingers crept in to her asshole, and she nodded again and whispered: 

"Ja! Tu das!" close enough to English "do that" for me to understand.

Oh yes! She wanted me to, wanted to feel my finger more than just tickling her twitching asshole. When it did, she moaned with an emphatic nod. With chuckling hums, we enjoyed feeling her muschi and asshole contract. It felt to me like they both were trying to draw my cock and finger deeper. 

"Hold me," she murmured and leaned back, struggling for moment to raise her thighs and get her feet on the bed beside my hips. Then she sat up and put her arms around my neck and kissed me, her tongue fucking in my mouth, and my finger was fucking deeper in the contractions of her asshole, feeling her muschi squeeze my cock each time it did. 

"Uhn-hn-hnn!" we were both humming again, as we took turns fucking with our tongues and sucking when the other's was in our mouth. For once, I was pleased that I was older and not going to come as soon as I would have many years before, able to enjoy our high level of arousal to its fullest.

For a while, Petra let me, humming like that, obviously also enjoying it. But then her arms pressed down on my shoulders, and she began to ride up and down on my cock. How long could I bear that?! Our mouths separated with her movement, and she was panting and moaning. I was trying to control my pending orgasm. Then her feet slid away from my hips, and she pressed me back on the bed. As I dropped back, she demanded softly: 

"Fuck me!"

As I rocked my hips up, it occurred to me that that was one expression she must have used so often in the last few days that it had replaced the German one in her spontaneous vocabulary. Lucky Ron and Willy! Lucky me!! 

With pants and aroused groans, we fucked. Not just my hips were rocking, hers were slapping down to meet mine, wet slaps. With all the movement, I was more aware of the contractions of her asshole on my finger than of those of her pussy on my cock, but they had their effect. With a grunt, I felt my cock spurt in her tight, hot vagina, and then again, and felt her warm love juice flood down on me, as her body shook, and a louder, whimpering groan came from her throat. Her whimpers continued as I rocked my hips the few more times until my cock stopped spurting.

With a long groan, I lay still, and she collapsed down on me with final groan, as her body shook again, and now I felt the contractions on my cock. They subsided, and we just lay there, our stomachs heaving against each other as we slowly recovered. 

Suddenly, I was aware of hums that weren't from Petra, then recalling where we were and that four other persons were in the room, lying on the other bed. Petra snorted sharply, apparently also again aware that we weren't alone.

"Shi-it! You guys just don't stop!"

I recognized Willy's voice, as I heard the others snicker, then suddenly realized that they had clear view of my finger and cock in Petra. She chuckled with a slight nod, raising her head off my shoulder, and kissed me. I heard sharp snorts from the others as I slipped my finger out. She snorted and raised her hips, and my cock dropped down, followed by a couple of drips. I hoped they didn't find the sight unattractive, as I helped Petra sit up and then followed her.

The four others were all now lying facing us, propped up on their elbows, smirking. I smiled wryly. Petra turned her head and snorted, and then turned off me, sitting beside me. She grinned and said: 

"Never see anyone fuck before? We didn't do anything you didn't, just took longer."

We all snickered, nodding, and she added, glancing at Ron and Willy: 

"Or that we have before."

They nodded again with chuckles. Marge was the first to speak: 

"I guess so, but no, I have never seen anyone fuck."

She looked at me with smirk and added: 

"Good thing you do that as good with me, or I could be envious, ... but it was good with Ron and Willy too."

She smiled at them. A little to my surprise, she then reached back across Anna and fondled the cock that she had been sucking, and then reached over the man in front of her and fondled his. That didn't seem like her, but I assumed that after all we had done it was appropriate, especially when she then smiled at Anna and touched her lips and slid her hand over her breast and down to her pussy. Anna nodded with a smile and brushed her hand over Marge's breast and down to her pussy, letting Petra and me see her fingers creep in a little.

Marge nodded with soft chuckle and murmured: 

"This was good, too," and they exchanged slight smiles, nodding.

Petra's hand had found my soft, sticky cock, when Marge had fondle Ron's and Willy's. Now she murmured: 

"I've got to go," and nodded towards the bathroom door.

Then we all recognized the urge, of course, and with chuckles went towards the bathroom. One of the men immediately started to use the washbasin, while Marge and Anna let Petra use the toilet first. After we all had gone, we took turns washing our faces and elsewhere, not without a few snickers. As I was drying myself, Marge smiled at me with a raised eyebrow, moving her hands as though she were pulling up her panties. I nodded, and she said with a chuckle: 

"I think we had better go back to our room, before we forget that we have our own beds."

"You're welcome to stay," Ron replied.

The others nodded with smiles. I replied: 

"I hadn't doubted that, thank you, but Marge is right. Besides, the rush in the bathroom in the morning, and - regardless of what the others may be doing - the six of us waiting for the elevator together .... Well, they don't have to know how we enjoy ourselves."

"Very good, thank you," Marge quickly added.

I nodded with a grin, and the other responded. Then they nodded again, accepting our decision, and we found our clothes. As we were dressing, Anna said something in German. Marge and Petra snorted with slight nods. Willy asked: 

"What was that about?"

Anna looked a little abashed. Marge replied: 

"Just between us girls, else she would have said it in English."

Anna nodded with slight smile, and Willy and Ron accepted her explanation. Dressed again, we thanked Ron again for the good dinner and all of them for a most pleasant evening. Our choice of words was such a contrast to what we had done and that we were saying goodnight to two still naked couples, that we all smirked and chuckled. They wished us a good night, and we slipped out into the dark corridor, surprised when a sensor turned the lights on. 

Marge snorted and gave me a grin, taking my hand, and we returned silently to our room. When I closed the door, she snorted again and remarked: 

"Sure didn't know I would ever do that, would want to."

"Two of us. ... Well, if I ever thought that a younger woman would still want to sleep with me, of course, I would want to."

"Hmm! Of course! Am I still a younger woman?"

"Very much so; didn't mean it to sound like that, but not tonight."

"Hm-hmm! Two younger men could be better than one even younger woman."

"Hmm! Not to forget another younger woman."

"No. Oh, want to know what she said?"

"Girl talk?"

"Maybe, but she said that she wouldn't mind spending a night with both of us."

"Really?! What about their pact to stay together?"

"Maybe that was just a protective measure to keep each other out of trouble."

"And we're not 'trouble'?"

"Hm-hmm! You're not, as long as I'm there."

"You're the kind of chaperone I like." 

We had undressed and went to bed, just lightly kissing goodnight. When I murmured: 

"Tapering off after a muschi and two cocks," she snorted with a nod, replying: 

"Don't think you would want the cocks."

"No! Sweet dreams."

"You too."

I didn't have any, didn't need any; my most arousing ones had been surpassed by everything that had occurred in the last several days.

Did I get carried away again? No apologies! What started as just an enticing suggestion on a Literotica forum had turned into an unplanned celebration of Nudist Day with erotic experiences that exceeded - were exceeding - anything I had anticipated.



Bastille Day Ch. 05



Did I get carried away again? No apologies! What started as just an enticing suggestion on a Literotica forum had turned into an unplanned celebration of Nudist Day with erotic experiences that exceeded - were exceeding - anything I had anticipated. 

I woke up in the early morning with erection, but only with one telling me that I had to go to the bathroom. I tried to slip out of bed without disturbing Marge, but she snorted and followed me, snorting again as she watched me use the washbasin. She used the toilet and, we returned to bed, snorting again as we lay down. I remembered what Marge had mentioned before we went to sleep and asked:

"Anna? She said she wanted to spend a night with us? More with you or with me?"

Hm-hmm! We two have done pretty much everything we can with each other, so I suspect more with you."

"Mmmm! If you don't mind. We have, too, I think, but if she wants to. Petra didn't seem adverse to what she had said."

"No. ... She could hardly complain after what all you two did."

"Nice, that you said you didn't have to be envious."

"Oh, I was a little, having to watch you two finally finish, forgetting for the moment that I had just had two orgasms."

"Yeah, I guess it was quite a show; it did occur to me that you all could see exactly what was going on."

"Oh, we could, but none of us could really complain."

"That's good. Whose idea was it for you and Anna to change places? That surprised us."

"Hm-hmm! I'm not sure. I think one of them - the men - did. Yeah, one of them said that he hoped we liked to suck cock as much as we liked to eat muschi - he said: 'pussies'."

"You did, obviously."

"Of course. ... Hm-hmm! Just as much, not more or less."

"Hmmm? So what are we going to do with Anna?"

"You think we should ... without the others?"

"If she said she wanted to."

"Hmm! Of course, you do."

"Not if you don't, of course."

"It would be a little more relaxed than last night. Can't do that all the time."

"That's for sure. Wonder if the guys are thinking about doing that again."

"Hmm! You are!"

"Just curious, wondering if they were, their suggestion that we all do it in a triangle."

"Hmm? Six people on one bed?"

"There was a little space still, when we did it with Petra and Anna."

"Hmm! At least we'd all be doing the same thing - just one big orgy."

"Only if you wanted to."

"And they all did."

"We sort of should return their hospitality: not dinner, just a couple of bottles of bubbly."

"True. Hmmm? What's today? Tuesday. Anna tonight, if she wants to, then tomorrow evening, Wednesday, and maybe we can taper off the last two nights; we leave on Saturday.

"Getting back to the normal one-on-one."

"Um-hmm, like normal people. Jeez, I've had enough sex to make up for the last few months."

"Me too, and - hm-hmm! - you had your weekend with your brother, sort of to warm up."

"Oooh! I had forgotten that. Not really, just when I said that."

She smirked, snorting, and we agreed to get up. After our usual shower together, we dressed and went down to breakfast, greeting the other four at the buffet, and then sat with the older couple again. 

When they mentioned that they hadn't seen us at dinner, we told that we had been invited by the men for dinner as thanks for Marge's having introduced them to the girls. They smiled with nods, remarking that it looked like she had done them all a big favor.

We spent the day on the beach, noticing less tanned persons who had probably arrived on the weekend. We snickered about a couple of American girls with good bikini tans, but who still seemed a little uncomfortable at being nude, especially when they were spoken to by men, a couple of whom were shaven with no trace of a tan line. Then we wondered how we would arrange the evening with Anna, wondering if she or Petra had told the men what she had said in German.

Before we could decide whether one of us should find them, Anna appeared, walking along the firm sand at the water, obviously looking for us. When she saw us, she waved and approached us.

She really had a nice figure, I suddenly thought to myself. (I've been enthusing too much about Petra's perky breasts, unfairly.) Anna's were really more the accepted ideal, as glances from men she passed confirmed, and their glances following her reminded me that she had a nice round ass, not like the flat flanks of some women. Before she joined us, I recognized that I was attuning my taste in anticipation of her spending the night with us. Oh, Marge also had a nice round ass. 

Anna smiled as she sat down between our feet, facing us. Did her pussy/muschi lips also smile? Of course not, but I had glanced at them with that thought. Then she gave a wry smile and remarked: 

"When they asked us this morning what I had said last night, Petra immediately told them."

"Nice girlfriend," Marge replied with snort."

"Hmm? I guess. She's more ..., what's the word?"

"Outspoken," I suggested.

"Yes, more outspoken than me."

"In English, maybe; Marge told me what you had said."

"Hmm? Of course. Yes, maybe."

She smiled wryly again, glancing back and forth at us. Marge smiled mildly and replied: 

"We thought it was a nice idea, ... if you still want to?"

"Hmmm? That's good; haven't much choice; they did too."

Her nice nipples had popped out, looking very attractive in the middle of her round breasts. She saw me glance at them and smirked slightly. I smiled and replied: 

"Only whatever you want to do, ... or just a night off."

"Just maybe," Marge remarked with a snort and grin at me."

"You're both so nice."

"Anything you want to do," I replied, but aware of my cock.

We all smiled. Marge snorted softly and remarked: 

"You can tell Petra that she will have a good time."

"Hm-hmm! I think she's already thought of that; the three of them were smirking at each other when I got up."

We all chuckled, and I replied: "We wouldn't do that," but we did, chuckling again. Then Marge said: 

"You know where our room is. Later this evening."

Anna smiled with a nod and stood up. Then I got to watch her nice round ass as she left us. Marge snorted, having seen my eyes following Anna, and murmured: 

"Nice ass."

"Not nicer than yours."

"Oh, it is, like mine was when I was her age."

"Still nice."

She smiled, and we lay down on our stomachs, smiling at each other. I reached over and fondled her ass. She smirked and remarked: 

"If you insist," and tightened her ass muscle.

I grasped it, and she rocked her hips down with a snort, murmuring: 

"Not here; save it." 

I feigned a scowl and gave her ass a soft slap and removed my hand, then murmuring: 

"Now we can't see what those two girls do."

"Just as well; just think about Anna."

"And you."

We smiled and closed our eyes, and I did, more about Anna, wondering what she would want to do.

That evening at the bar, Sans-culotte said that he had discovered on internet that rumors said that on July 14th in 2013 the étape of Tour de France would end at Mont St. Michel. Quite a few had heard about the Buffy's suggestion of a Nude Day flash mob. Other were intrigued by the idea, and a few asked where Mont St. Michel was. Sans-culotte explained that the north coast wasn't so ideal for a nude vacation, but that there were places we could stay, warning us that it was just a rumor so far.

That didn't dampen discussion of the proposal during dinner. Marge and I sat with another couple, thinking that if we sat with the other four, conversation and facial expressions might suggest that we did more together. Buffy, who knew more about nude resorts, was confident that we could find a place to sun and swim in the nude, even if the Tour on that day ended somewhere else. He had given up his original idea of staging a flash mob in Paris on the national holiday, now thinking about having it at the ten or five kilometer mark before the finish of the tour étape on the day, where TV cameras would be waiting for the first racers to appear. Those who had seen parts of the race on TV agreed that was a good suggestion, verifying that we would certainly get on TV.

In the bar after dinner, we did meet the others, and I insisted on treating them all to a glass of wine: 

" ... or a second one, after your hospitality last night."

That was, of course, a suggestive reference - unintended. The others nodded, just snorting silently with smiles. We talked about other things. When I mentioned the American girls, the others chuckled, agreeing that they had seen others who were apparently new to such open nudism. The subject changed. We all seemed to be stretching our glass of wine, still with half full glasses when some others ordered a second glass. 

Eventually, the first couples left the bar, two of them obviously together, not telling each other goodnight. We all smirked slightly, exchanging glances. As the oldest member of our group, I thought it appropriate to make the first suggestion that we also leave. I feigned stifling a yawn and remarked: 

"I think it's bedtime for a boy my age; I'm not accustomed to so much sun and fresh air."

The others nodded with pleased expressions, letting me think that they had just been waiting for someone to raise the subject. Marge nodded again and said: 

"And I need my beauty sleep."

"You don't need any," I replied chivalrously.

"Well, the kind that makes me feel like I don't."

We all chuckled silently, and the others agreed, of course, that they wanted to go to bed. I asked for the bill, and we all finished the few drops in our glasses. I paid, and we went towards the elevators. When we saw a couple waiting, we hesitated. Then Petra said something in German. Anna nodded, and Petra spoke again. Marge replied with a smirk. Petra snorted with a grin and said a couple of more words. Anna and Marge snorted, nodding, and Marge told them all goodnight, so I also did, and the two of us joined the other couple before the elevator doors closed. 

The couple wasn't from our group, and we exchanged pleasantries about enjoying our vacations. On the way to our room, I asked what the conversation in German had been about.

"Hmm! Petra suggested that we go ahead, that Anna could join us later, and then wished us a lot of fun. When I replied, she grinned and said: 

"We will!'"

"Hmm! Of course, you know how."

"Shhh!"

We went in our room and undressed and went to the bathroom, washing a little. Then we wondered if we should already be naked when Anna joined us. Marge turned off the overhead light and turned on the bedside lamps, suggesting that we could compromise by being under the covers in bed. But when we were, I realized that one of us would have to get up to open the door. Marge got up and and unlatched it, remarking that Anna would then be sure she had found the right room.

Only a few moments after she was back in bed with me, there was a soft knock on the door. Marge said something in German. Before Anna had closed the door and stepped passed the closet, Marge whispered: 

"Told her we are already in bed."

Anna appeared with a slightly sheepish expression on her face, then smiling a little wryly. I said softly: 

"Hi, nice that you wanted to spend the night with us."

She nodded with slight smile and replied: 

"Thanks. Nice that you wanted to have me."

I wondered if she understood what that could also mean. Marge remarked: 

"We already washed."

"I did too, Petra's suggestion. Hmm? This is a little funny."

"For us too," Marge replied, adding: "We don't have to do anything, us either."

She glanced back at me, and I nodded, agreeing: "Of course."

Anna nodded with a slight smirk and began undressing. Although we all had seen each other naked and done everything naked persons could do with each other, it seemed that it was still a little uncomfortable for her to be taking off her clothes with us watching her. Conversely, perhaps because of her discomfort, it was delightful to watch her; to see her take off her bra and reveal her breasts and aroused nipples. A striptease is more interesting than just seeing a naked young woman.

She wasn't making it a striptease, however, just looking at us with slightly wry smile as she exposed herself. She snorted as she slid her panties down over her ass. I liked that she wasn't wearing a string or something that looked especially sexy. It obviously covered most of her ass - nice round ass. Had covered it, and now it wasn't covering her shaven muschi. I could have - should have - mentioned before that I liked the way it curved out between her thighs, worthy of the expression: mons veneris, the mount of Venus.

Then she was naked. Marge raised the covers of our bed, and we both moved back to leave her enough space to join us without having to touch Marge. She nodded with quick smile and did. We were lying propped up on one elbow, and she lay the same way, facing us. She murmured: 

"Nice. Thanks for letting me sleep with you. I think she likes them more than I do. Oh, we have a lot of fun, and I sure like what they do, but ..., well, you know, there is a difference."

We both nodded. Marge replied softly: 

"Of course, there is a difference. We two have been lucky."

I rubbed her hip under the covers in confirmation, seeing Anna's eyes dart down, noticing. A slight smile passed over her lips, and she murmured, looking at me: 

"I like you better, ... you too, Marge."

"Then it is nice that you're here," Marge replied. I added: 

"Nicer than for just 'the fun'."

Anna gave me a nice smile, nodding. Then she wrinkled her nose with a snort, and replied - quite to my surprise - snorting again: 

"Um-hmm, but last night, I guess I said I liked the fun too."

Her eyes met mine, and another slight smile passed over her lips, before she looked at Marge again, who replied with a slight nod: 

"True, but after watching them, what else could one think?"

I rubbed her hip again. Marge caught my hand and moved it to her stomach. Anna snorted with a shrug, nodding with wry smile. 

During a ensuing few moments of silence, my fingers moved on Marge's stomach, aware of the layer of soft flesh under the skin of her still flat tummy, quite acceptable for a woman her age, but I knew Anna's tummy would feel different, recalling the tight skin around her bellybutton. My eyes were appreciating the curve of her hip down to her waist under the covers. 

Then Anna frowned and said something in German. Marge squeezed my hand and chuckled and shook her head, replying: 

"You can do anything you want. I was just trying to make it easy for you, if you didn't."

Anna's expression brightened with a smile. She snorted and replied: 

"If you really mean it? I don't think I want to do everything she did."

"Anything you want," Marge repeated, adding: "We just met here, even though - hm-hmm! - it's being sort of like a honeymoon, but it isn't one."

I smiled at Anna, nodding vigorously enough for Marge to feel the movement. She squeezed my hand again, as she turned her head back and smiled at me. We looked back at Anna, who nodded with a chuckle and remarked: 

"I guess so. Nice. ... If you really don't mind?"

Marge shook her head and replied: 

"We told you this afternoon that we thought it was a nice idea, assuming that you meant what you had said."

I nodded my agreement, giving Anna an encouraging smile. She snorted with another slight, wry smile, nodding and murmuring: 

"I guess I did, ... I do. Hmm! Have to say it: what she did first; ... I really like that now."

"Good idea. I do too."

"Not as much as I do," I quickly enjoined with another encouraging smile.

"But what are you going to do?" Anna asked Marge.

"Nothing or do something nice for you."

Anna smiled, but shook her head, murmuring: 

"You're too nice, and I want to just enjoy it. Hm-hmm! I like his, too."

"I can do something nice for Marge, then, ... at the same time."

"Oh, if you want to," Anna agreed with a pleased smile.

"Hmm? No one asked if I might enjoy doing something nice as much as Anna wants to," Marge remarked in an obviously feigned disappointing tone.

We all snickered, grinning, Marge turning her head back to also grin at me, as she pulled my hand up to her breast. I murmured: 

"I'll play with them too."

Before I get carried away again and try to tell in detail how good it was, and how it was good, as I have before, just the short version. 

Anna moved off the bed and waited for Marge to get out of the way, so that I could move around with my hips on the edge of the bed. Anna was already playing with my cock, enjoying what she could do with my foreskin before my cock was completely aroused, as Marge straddled me, facing Anna. Before her muschi covered my mouth, I told Anna that Petra had also sucked my balls. She hummed and said in cheerful voice that she would. And then I was licking Marge's muschi, and Anna was doing something more than nice to my cock, and then something nice to my balls. 

I knew what it would be like when Marge came, looking forward to her flooding my face, but I didn't anticipate how eagerly Anna wanted me to come in her mouth. When I did, I was pleased that Marge and I hadn't done anything in the morning; Anna's moans suggested that she was delighted that I came so good, still moaning as her tongue caressed the head of my cock with the thick liquid. I felt her suck and swallow. 

My hands were still holding Marge's breasts, with hers clasped over my hands. She squeezed them and murmured: 

"That must have been good."

I nodded and felt Anna nod with my softening cock still in her mouth. Marge snorted - probably also nodding - and said: 

"It was for me, too."

I urged her to rise a little, and replied: 

"It sure seemed like it, running down to my ears."

I felt Anna chuckle as she nodded again, and then my soft cock slipped from her mouth, dropping down. I chuckled and pulled on Marge's breasts, murmuring: 

"Kiss her for me."

With a cheerful "Um-hmm!" Marge immediately dropped forward, her hips lifting higher. I raised my head and saw Anna nod with a smirk as she rose up. I couldn't see them kiss, but their deep chuckles assured me that they were, and that they were enjoying it. I lowered my head. Then Marge moved off me, and they both chuckled again. I felt Anna hold my soft cock, as Marge snorted and remarked: 

"Definitely not like any honeymoon."

"Better than mine," I replied and sat up, returning Anna's smile and Marge's smirking grin.

"But just the way I wanted it," Anna replied. 

"And I did," I agreed.

Marge snorted, glancing at Anna's hand, still holding my cock, and murmured: 

"When I do that, I go all wet."

Anna smirked with a nod and replied: 

"It feels like it."

"We'd better do something about that," I remarked, glancing at Marge, who nodded with smile.

Anna smiled with shrug, glancing back and forth at us, at Anna as she suggested: 

"Like last night?"

"Good idea: both of us doing 'something about that'" Marge replied with a smile, then glancing at me. I nodded and replied to her: 

"But someone is going to have to make him interested again."

Anna smirked and fondled my soft cock. Marge snorted and said: 

"Not you - my turn - and he can take care that you don't forget what we want to do - like before."

"Oh, I won't!" Anna rejoined with a grin.

She rose up, and Marge and I moved around on the bed, Marge with her knees on the other pillow. She was beginning to suck my cock, fondling my loose sack, before Anna could straddle my face. 

I keep forgetting not to get carried away.

I did everything I could in the short time before Marge decided that my cock was interested. It had been for a while already. When she raised her head, she murmured: 




Bastille Day Ch. 05



"I didn't want to stop. Now your muschi." 

I didn't want to stop enjoying Anna's muschi, but of course, I was going to get to enjoy it another way. We moved around, and then my cock was in it, and they were both enjoying each other's muschi. When Marge's hand slid over my hip and her fingers found my asshole, I reached over, but Anna's hand was already there - before Marge's found mine. I fondled their breasts instead. 

Before I get aroused from just recalling how good it was, it was! For Marge, too, evident from the wet noises Anna's mouth had made. We rolled apart, sighing with moans, three hands finding breasts to caress, sometimes two on one breast. Then we chuckled at our success and sat up, smiling and smirking at each other.

I suggested that we have something from the minibar to drink. They nodded, and we agreed to share the half-liter bottle of vodka provided for Russian guests - replaced for the one we had drunk two night before.. We just passed it around, toasting each other in English and German. I don't think that I had to drink more than my share to empty the bottle. 

We went to the bathroom, using the toilet and washbasin, then washing faces and elsewhere. With very few words, we fell into bed and said goodnight and fell asleep.

In the morning, Anna insisted that we had to do it that way again for Marge. Neither of them had to do anything to arouse my cock; it already was. Can't remember which of them was lying in front of me. Oh, it must have been Anna, because we had to move around a lot, Anna letting Marge get in front of me and turning around. Of course, it was just as good. Of course! Marge's muschi could milk a cock just as well as Anna's could!

Trying to keep it brief, we spent another day on the beach, meeting the other three and finding a place further away, where we could snicker and smirk as we agreed with some details that we all had spent a very pleasant evening - and morning. That made it easy for me to suggest that we gather in our room that evening, promising to provide champagne.

I did, with Marge's help and whispered comments about having the "most fucking vacation" she ever had. At dinner, we again sat with other people, but then we were all in our room, naked again, before I could fill our glasses. 

There were more smirks and snickers than conversation. Apparently, we all had assumed that we would try to do what Ron and Willy had suggested. It was only a question of whether Anna or Marge would get to lick Petra's muschi, one or the other of them having to lick the other's again. Petra settled that with the explanation that Anna could always lick hers. We all chuckled, and the three of them curled up in a triangle on the bed. 

Then we men had the same "problem." I claimed seniority, that I wanted to fuck Petra. I expressed it without that word. Watching the women was enough inspiration for our cocks, and then we were all on the bed. 

Yes, six persons can do it like that on a king- or queen-sized bed. That we all were pleased with our success goes without saying. When we had recovered a little, Ron or Willy suggested that the women could roll over and suck the cock that had been in pussy they had been licking, and that we could shift around and lick theirs. We all chuckled or snickered.

It seemed like a great idea: arousing our cocks again the best way possible, and letting us show our appreciation - also the best way possible - as comments with more snickers pointed out. We quickly recognized, however, that the circle then would be too large to fit on the bed. With disappointed chuckles, we gave up and sat up, smirking around the circle.

I said I had another bottle of champagne, and we shared it. A bottle was one round for six water glasses. We relaxed on the bed, sitting with the nearest woman between our thighs and drank. 

I liked that it was Anna between mine, recalling that she had said that she like me more than Willy or Ron, thinking that it was nice that she didn't have to sit with one of them. When I held her breast, she turned her head and gave me a smile. It was a very nice handful. My fingers extended and squeezed it, pressing it into my palm. Ron and Willy were doing the same, the large hand of one of them holding one of Petra's perky breasts, less than a handful for it. Her other one was still attractive, but I liked the feeling of the one in my hand better, suddenly recalling the saying about a bird in the hand - a breast in the hand. I hoped he felt the same way. Marge's breast was also a nice handful for the other one, but not as firm as Anna's.

We all took another sip of champagne, and then Ron or Willy remarked: 

"Since that didn't work, what are we going to do now."

"We don't have to do anything," Marge replied."

"Of course not," Anna agreed.

I nodded, squeezing her breast again, and she leaned back against me in response with a soft "um-hmm." Nice, I thought, beginning to feel that if I did anything, I wanted to do it with her. Petra's outspokenness was delightful - and what she did, of course! But Anna did it just as good, and I liked that she was a little more reticent, the way I would like to think a daughter - if I had one - should be, but also her being so good in bed?! Would I have wanted to do something with her - if I had had one?

Thoughts are faster than written words. I chuckled and suggested: 

"I suppose the four of you ..." I glanced at the the other two couples: " ... could do it. Anna and I could sit this one out, ... well, maybe we wouldn't really."

Anna rubbed my leg with another soft "um-hmm. Ron, Willy and Petra immediately nodded with smirks. Marge gave me a slightly wry smile, but also nodded. The men snorted, glancing at each other and both said: 

"Why didn't we think of that?" one adding: "We could have done that before?"

"Yes, why not?" Petra remarked, adding: "Let's do it," and glanced back at the man behind her and then at Marge and the other one. 

While Anna rubbed my leg again and rubbed her back against my chest, the others shrugged and exchanged smirks. Well, maybe Marge didn't smirk. She gave me a you-got-me-into-this glance. Since I had gotten up to get the champagne, I was in a good position to move off the bed and started to, drawing Anna with me. The others - maybe not Marge - smiled at us with nods, as though they felt we were doing them a favor. I didn't think I was, and the way Anna squeezed my hand suggested that she didn't either.

I drew back the covers on the other bed, and the others began to move around. I didn't want to be a voyeur, but looked back at them, when I heard Marge murmur: 

"If we're going to do this, then the other way, Petra. Hmm! Lick them where it feels best." 

I heard approving chuckles and saw her and Petra turn over back to back. Anna and I both snorted and continued to watch them curl up together, the men with their faces between the women's thighs from behind. "Mmmm," Anna moaned softly and then turned to me with her arms around my waist, her firm breasts touching my chest. I put my arms around her shoulders, pressing them closer. She looked up at me and whispered: 

"Thanks; I'd rather does something just with you."

"Me too," I murmured: "What?"

"Mmmm! Anything. Lie down."

Hardly separating, I moved a foot back, touching the bed, and we dropped down on it, she lying on me. The feeling of having a girl lying on one may be taken for granted by younger men, but for me it felt very special - despite everything I had done with Marge - and Petra. How many men my age 

are so lucky as to have young girl tell them she wants to do 'anything'?! My cock was already beginning to wake up again. 

We lay comfortably for a moment, she smiling down at me. Then she snorted softly, questioningly, and snorted again. I murmured: 

"Anything? Whatever you want."

"Hmmm? ... What they are. Last night, I didn't want you to stop. Of course, she then made it real good, but sometimes it's better that way. Hmm! I want to come like she did, it running down to your ears."

"Mmmm! I didn't want to stop, either, and I just love that."

"Hm-hmm! I do too, when I do it."

We chuckled, our stomachs moving against each other. She lowered her head, and we kissed, our tongues briefly demonstrating what they wanted to do somewhere else. With another chuckle, she raised her head, nodding with a grin, and began to turn around, apparently wanting to be on top. I grabbed a pillow and stuffed it up under my head, and then she was straddling me. For a few moments, I appreciated that the bedside light let me enjoy a view of her muschi, really the prettiest one of the three, but I might have thought that if it had been Petra's or Marge's in that position.

I hope anyone - of either sex - who reads this knows how good it is to lick a pussy, how good it tastes - even if it has just been fucked. That just made Anna's having said that it sometimes was better this way all the more enticing. Could I make it that good for her?! She couldn't lick my cock where it felt most arousing, and I had just had an orgasm; so I was sure that I could enjoy what we both were doing long enough to try.

I did, but only after having to relent my efforts for a few moments, when she made me come. But then she rocked her hips, and I resumed my efforts. Maybe it was good that I came first; she might have bitten my cock, if she had been still sucking it. When her thighs and pelvis began to quiver, she raised her head and panted with pulsing moans, unrestrained whimpers, and then her whole body was twitching. It didn't run down to my ears; I caught most of it in my mouth, delighting that it was so much and tasted so good, and that I had been able to make it so good for her.

"Mein Gott!" she exclaimed softly and collapsed on me, her head resting heavily on my thigh. I embraced her hips and recovered from my exertion with moaning sighs - satisfied, moaning sighs. She rocked her hips to extend her legs past my head, and we both relaxed, our stomachs rising and falling against each other. 

"No wonder they wanted to be by themselves." 

Ron's remark reminded me that we weren't alone, also the sound of an "um-hmm" and a couple of soft chuckles. I felt Anna raise her head and remark: 

"Ach, scheet!" Sounded like English: Oh shit!

She rolled off me, and I raised my head, seeing the four others looking at us, suddenly reminded of a photo of prairie dogs all looking in one direction - at the two of us. I smiled wryly and rubbed Anna's hip and then sat up and looked down at her with snort and grin. She snorted, returning my grin, licking her lips. I licked mine with a nodded, and we both chuckled. I looked up at the others and remarked: 

"Hope it was as good."

They all nodded, but Marge also smirked and replied: 

"At least we thought it was."

We all snickered. Anna sat up, first smiling at me and then at the others and replied: 

"I hope it was."

"Oh, I think it was; couldn't have been better," Ron replied, and the others nodded, exchanging smiles with each other.

Petra snorted with smirk and remarked: 

"Girls' bedtime I think - in our own room."

Anna nodded, and with chuckles then the rest of us did. Willy remarked: 

"But don't do anything we wouldn't."

We all chuckled again, maybe more out of politeness. Anna suggested that we all could wash in our own rooms, and we all nodded. We all had to go, of course, after sharing two bottles of champagne. Then the four of them got dressed. By then, there was nothing remarkable about remaining naked when others were dressed. We all thanked each other for the evening together, and then they were gone. 

Marge turned to me with a snort and wry smile and remarked: 

"Oh, it was good, even though I wasn't so enthused with the idea. Hmm! Just a little jealous of Anna, ... not that I have any right to be."

"No, but I can understand. Maybe a little too much avoiding one-on-one."

"Um-hmm. Maybe just too much unexpected group sex."

"Won't happen again, I agreed."

"Um-hmm."

We went to bed without a kiss, just curling up familiarly together.

At breakfast, we saw that the other four were not sitting with each other and also found a table by ourselves, but we all exchanged nods and smiles. Marge and I agreed that the others may also have felt that we had done a little too much, but also agreed that we had enjoyed something that we had never anticipated. 

It was our next to last day on the beach, and we enjoyed it quietly, complimenting each other on our deep tans, then chuckling that back home no one would be able to appreciate that they were seamless. I suggested that her brother and sister could. Marge smirked with a nod and said that she hoped they could. Then she frowned slightly and remarked that she hoped her sister-in-law hadn't asked how she and her brother had spent the weekend together. Then we talked about what we would be doing the next week, snorting at the recognition that it would be such a contrast to how we had been spending our vacation. 

We were surprised when Anna again found us. When I saw her approach, it occurred to me that she looked much more innocent than I knew she was, but how could an attractive girl her age still be innocent, especially being so unselfconsciously nude? But she still did look innocent, even when she sat down cross-legged, exposing her pussy/muschi, maybe for that reason.

She smiled sweetly - just as innocently - and greeted us, and we, her. Then she remarked: 

"We're not going to do that again. Even the guys thought it had been a little too much."

"Like we did," Marge agreed, and I nodded.

"Oh, we told them they could come to our room tonight, since they sort of asked. Couldn't be rude. Hm-hmm! I guess we know what we will do; that must have been good."

"It was," Marge agreed with a wry smile, adding: "but not better than what you two did."

I nodded emphatically with a smile, and Anna returned it. After a moment, she snorted and said: 

"Oh, that was funny - when I was lying on you - I suddenly thought that you are like my Papa. Oh, not really; you don't look like him, just something, ... the way you talk, some things you say, despite the differences in language."

I snorted with a smile, wondering if I should reply, suddenly recalling that I had considered if I would want my non-existent daughter to be like her. Marge didn't say anything. Then Anna did with a grin, after glancing down at my cock: 

"Oh, of course you are more like him than Ron or Willy - there."

We all snorted with grins and nods. Marge snorted again and asked: 

"You know?"

She nodded with a slight smirk and replied: 

"When I was only about that high. Hm-hmm! I think he had more hair."

She had glanced down again. I snorted and replied: 

"Don't tell me if it was bigger."

"Hm-hmm! I don't think so, but it seemed pretty big back then."

"I only saw my brother's," Marge volunteered, much to my surprise, but liking her including herself in Anna's remarks and my thoughts from the night before.

Anna chuckle was more a giggle. I teased Marge by asking: 

"But not like her father's or mine."

Marge gave me a grin and countered: 

"Oh no, like Ron's and Willy's."

We all snickered, Anna not for the same reason Marge and I were. Anna returned to her original subject: 

"Oh, when I learned about the bees and the flowers, ... well, it was a little later .... Hmm? Must have been twelve or thirteen, it suddenly occurred to me that it must have looked different when he and Mama did it. Oh, that was funny: the first time I realized that they did."

"Um-hmm! Of course," Marge agreed with a snort, adding: 

"I guess that occurs to all youngsters at some point, girls then wondering what his looks like that way, ... maybe not about their fathers'."

"Or brother's," I added, teasing her again, quickly adding: 

"But I also remember the first time I suddenly understood that my parents did - hmm - about the time I started playing with it."

Anna and Marge chuckled with grins, and then Marge snorted and replied to my teasing remark: 

"Oh, my brother's wasn't that big when we played doctor, or whatever kids in Germany call it, but we both thought it was funny."

"Missed that; no brother," Anna replied with a grin.

We all smirked again and were silent for a moment. I was again wondering about fathers and daughters, when Anna snorted with a puzzled expression and murmured to herself: 

"Never thought of him like that before."

I didn't want to say anything, having just thought about that, but Marge replied softly, glancing at me: 

"Until you were lying on him?"

Anna nodded slightly, not looking at us. After a moment, Marge added: 

"Most girls probably do, ... or about their older brother, if they have one."

Anna snorted, giving Marge a wry smile, and then murmured: 

"I guess so. Hm-hmm! Just funny when it happened."

"Um-hmm. I guess so; ... most girls do before they think of anyone else."

"Hmm!"

Anna looked up at me with a smile and remarked: 

"Hope you don't mind. ... Oh, I wasn't thinking about him after that, when we were doing it."

"And if you had been, ..." I replied with a smile: "he would have been as happy as I was."

Anna almost giggled again and replied: 

"And me too, if he did it as good as you did."

We all nodded with smiles. Suddenly Anna's expression changed, looking a little abashed, and then she remarked softly: 

"Oh? Sheet!" (but I assumed that was a German expletive for a similar sounding English one).

She looked up with a wry expression and snorted, continuing: 

"Now I remember: I dreamt about him one night - not like that. Well, a little, I guess; I was naked. How does one know that in a dream? I don't think he was. Hmm? How could I dream about him and not know that. He's never seen me naked - not since it would have been interesting. ... Oh, we were in bed together - I mean Petra and me - but we didn't do anything. Hmm? Funny, that I dreamt about him, but nothing happened, nothing at all, just that I dreamt about him."

She gave us puzzled look. What she had said made sense to me, recalling vaguely something from Freud's analysis of dreams, but I didn't know what to say. Marge, however, smiled mildly and replied: 

"Just normal, later than some girls probably. You aren't suppose to think about him like that, so nothing happens, but you still dreamt about him."

Anna nodded, looking as though she liked that explanation. Then Marge surprised us both, maybe shocked Anna. She snorted with a wry grin, glancing at me, and then remarked: 

"I dreamt about my brother, and he was naked, me too."

"Really?! ... Like that?!"

Marge nodded, looking like she had admitted more than she had wanted to. She snorted and replied: 

"Not sure if it was your 'like that', but it was more than 'nothing happening'."

"Oh! Oooh! You did? ... Oh!? And not just playing doctor?!"

Marge snorted, nodding again, seeming to accept that she had would have admit more. I tried to look as surprised as Anna was. Marge snorted again with a wry expression and said, after a glance at me: 

"He was teasing me, mentioning my brother's. I saw his when we were past playing doctor."

"Really? How? And you were both naked in your dream?"

"Hmm? Dreams, yes."

"Really?! Old enough to know all about it? 'Dreams'?"

Marge nodded, giving me her you-got-me-into-this glance again. The night before, I had felt that I had, but now I thought that she had gotten herself into it by admitting that she had seen her brother's cock, if only by mentioning playing doctor with it. Had she just wanted to join in our talk about fathers and daughters? Or did she really wanted to tell, maybe subconsciously wanting to suggest to Anna that she had no problem with the thought that Anna could do something with her father?!




Bastille Day Ch. 05



Before those thoughts were finished, Marge snorted with slight, wry smile and nodded again, then replying softly: 

"I got myself into this. Yes, after my eighteenth birthday party, after the guests left. He was chaperoning, parents not at home, keeping couples from doing too much in the dark; sort of set the scene, and we weren't sober, so we ended up doing what the others probably had wanted to do - not all the way, but eventually everything but."

"Oh?! Really?! With your brother?!"

Marge nodded with very wry smile. Anna's expression was a very surprised one as she looked at Marge with wide eyes and then glanced at me. After a moment she said to me: 

"I guess you knew already."

I nodded. She snorted, smiling slightly, and then looked back at Anna and remarked: 

"Well, I guess ... if you both wanted to?"

"We did; the party was Friday night, and our parents only returned on Sunday, time enough to clean up."

"All weekend?"

"Something like that, first time either of us had done 'everything but'."

"Hmm! Like we did yesterday?" Anna asked with a glance at me.

"Maybe even that good," Marge replied with a chuckle.

Anna and I nodded, exchanging smiles and also chuckling, and we all smirked. I reached out and patted Anna's knee, remarking: 

"Last night, before you were lying on me, I wondered if I had had a daughter like you, whether I would have wanted to do anything with her, maybe if she would have wanted to do something with me."

"Probably," Marge remarked with a snort. Anna snorted with a grin, nodding, and added: 

"If she were like me."

We all smiled with more nods. I snorted and remarked: 

"Better not ask your father, if he is like me."

Before I finished my spontaneous remark, I realized that it was I more than Marge who was suggesting that she should. Of course, I could identify with her father, and she had already said that we were somehow similar. Marge snorted and remarked: 

"I wasn't going to mention that."

Anna snorted with a slight smile, but didn't say anything, letting me think that she recognized the implication that she might want to do something with him, especially when she changed the subject: 

"Anyway. Oh, we told them that they could come to our room tonight; they sort of suggested it, and, ... well, it would have been rude not to let them, ... after all we have done. We told them that tomorrow night we didn't want to do anything, and they understood."

Marge and I nodded with understanding smiles, Anna then snorted with another wry smile and remarked: 

"Guess we all know what we're going to do, ... like last night - hmm! - probably both ways."

"One sure way to avoid any one-on-one," Marge replied.

We all snickered, nodding. I looked at Marge and remarked: 

"If you think that could be a problem, we can go back to sleeping in separate beds."

"Hmm! I doubt it, ... that we could. I'll risk it; too many nights back home for that."

"For me, too," I agreed, both of us smiling. Anna nodded and remarked: 

"Back home, I really don't have a friend, not one I'm sleeping with - yet. Probably we will, if he hasn't met someone else during his vacation on Cyprus."

"I hope not," Marge replied with smile.

"Hmm? I guess so. ... Kind of different than here, you know, supposed to be about love and maybe staying together."

"Of course," Marge agreed, and I nodded. Anna nodded in response and then snorted with a smirk, adding: 

"Sure won't be like here; didn't know anything could be like this. ... Hmm? We haven't even talked about it - that we might - but I don't think he knows as much about it as I do; ... might be difficult to let him know what all I like, without his wondering why I do. Don't want him asking what I've been doing here."

I nodded, but then replied facetiously: 

"Just lying around shyly naked and reading some book with explicit sex, 'cause nothing happened."

Anna snorted with a smile. Marge also snorted, but remarked to me: 

"That's too unlikely. You know how the men look at her."

"Do they?" Anna's nipples popped out.

I nodded with small grin, replying: 

"Maybe especially because you haven't noticed; something would have happened, but I think it is better that you met Ron and Willy."

"Yes, thanks Marge. I hadn't thought of that. Anyway, hope he doesn't ask, if we do, back home."

"If he is nice and the right guy, he won't," I assured her, hoping I was right.

Anna smiled with a nod and said that she had better go back to Petra, snorting and explaining: 

"I left her alone; they said they wanted to see what else is here before we leave."

"Then you'd better, with greetings from us," Marge replied.

Anna smiled and stood up, givíng me - us - what turned out to be the last view of her naked, second to last; we watched her depart. When she was just another one of the nude girls to be seen, Marge remarked: 

"You like her."

"Don't you? I've been wondering what might have happened if I had a daughter."

"Yes, I do too, Hmm! That also occurred to me."

She smirked, and we nodded.

That night in the bar and at dinner, there was more talk about the flash mob project, lots of positive response, but of course, some questions about affording another trip to Europe. After dinner, Marge and I took a walk, not holding hands, just enjoying each other's company with few words. We had a nightcap in the bar and returned to our room. As we were undressing. now like a married couple just getting ready for bed, she murmured: 

"Tapering off?"

"Um-hmm, what I was thinking."

We smiled and went to the bathroom, maybe not quite like a married couple, at least, not like mine had been, seldom together in the bathroom. I wondered if "tapering off" suggested separate beds, but it didn't; she immediately held up the covers for me to join her. Lying separately, we said goodnight and fell asleep. During the night, however, we moved together with just soft hums in our half-sleep, as I curled up behind her with my arm around her, and fell asleep again. 

I was dreaming, something about my wife when I first met her. 

With hindsight, maybe the young woman in my dream was the way I imagined my daughter could have been. For sure, we were pretty close to doing something father and daughter shouldn't do. Since I had never dreamt about my wife - not like that - I expect that the moral filter made me assume that it was my wife in younger years. The dream got better, more arousing; she was holding my cock, when I heard her murmur: 

"Oh, I was dreaming."

That didn't fit in my dream; my wife - or daughter - wasn't dreaming, but her fingers were definitely touching my cock, rubbing a little where it felt good. I was still trying to incorporate this in my dream, when she spoke again: 

"Oh, it's you. Hmm, of course."

Did my wife - or daughter - in my dream think I was someone else? Who? But I had my arm around her. That didn't fit in my dream either. I wanted my dream to continue, but couldn't reconcile with it what she had said and the recognition that my arm was around her. 

"If you want to," she murmured, and her fingers were pressing on my cock. 

Oh, I wanted to, still trying to keep my dream alive, agreeing: "um-hmm," even if my dream was beginning to fade, to my disappointment. I had had such dreams before, trying to continue them with fantasies as I relieved myself. 

But not this time I realized, as I slowly woke up, remembering where I was and that I was lying with my arm around Marge, as I felt her ass rock back against me and her fingers press my cock into her pussy - muschi, as she called it. My hand found her breast, and then we both were fully awake. 

I moved and shoved my cock deeper in her, and we both chuckled softly. I murmured: 

"I was dreaming too, but it got confused by your remarks."

"Hm-hmm! Sorry. Mine, by recognizing that it wasn't just a dream."

"Sorry too."

"Um-hmm, this is better."

"It sure is. Won't ask with whom."

"Hm-hmm! Couldn't see him, behind me. Not one of you, I don't think, but I'm glad it's you now."

"And you, too."

I squeezed her breast, and we had a nice long fuck with her fingers trying to do what Anna's or Petra's or Willy's or Ron's tongue could have done. With satisfied moans, we relaxed. When I remarked: 

"Just 'tapering off' didn't mean not doing anything," she snorted and agreed:

"Nice, that it just happened like this, since we both were dreaming about it."

"Very! It's still dark. Sleep tight." 

"You too."

We did. I hope that she also had the pleasant, satisfied feelings that I had. 

At breakfast in the morning - our last day - we saw the four sitting together and greeted them, find that they were exchanging email addresses. Anna smiled up at us and said she would give us hers too, and wrote it on two slips from the block they were using. Petra then also wrote hers on the slips. We promised to write them so that they would have ours, and went to the buffet.

We spent the morning on the beach and swimming as usual, by now so accustomed to so much nudity that we hardly noticed. In the afternoon, Marge thought that she should buy souvenirs for her brother and sister and their boys, and we went to the shops, eventually finding things that weren't too suggestive about nudity. As we left the shop, she snickered and said: 

"They won't believe it when I tell them that we were naked going in and out of the shops."

"Just as well. When will you see them again?"

"Not sure, whenever."

We returned to our room and showered together, as thoroughly as usual but without any erotic implications, and then began to pack, chuckling about the unused clothes we had.

At the bar and during dinner, the talk was about how successful Buffy's idea had been and about returning home. Since we had to get up early for our flight to Paris, the session in the bar after dinner was shorter than usual. Sans-culotte and Stephan and the couple of other Europeans in the group said that they would be up early for breakfast, so that we all could say goodbye in the morning. Anna and Petra were leaving later, but also said they would be up with us. We all said goodnight and went to our rooms. 

As Marge and I undressed and used the bathroom, we made conversation about how nice the trip had been, avoiding any references to all the sex or expressions of disappointment about separating. As we were about to lie down, I suggested that we didn't have to sleep together. She snorted and replied: 

"Not that much tapering off," and we lay down together. It was too early to go to sleep, so we lay on our backs, still making conversation. After a few minutes, she reached over and found my cock and murmured: 

"We're not going to be able to go to sleep if we don't do something."

"I was willing to try, but I think you're right, especially now that you've mentioned it."

We chuckled. She fondled my cock and then began to turn around under the covers. We started slowly, more enjoying what we were doing than what the other was doing. She was just gently sucking my cock, and I was just gently exploring her muschi, enjoying the taste. Eventually, however, our hands slipped around and our fingers began to increase the sensations for each other. We still didn't hurry, exchanging hums in agreement, but they also felt good, making it difficult not to want to make it feel even better for each other. We gave up trying to prolong the pleasure of anticipation. 

She scrambled around, lying half on me, and we kissed. She murmured: 

"I just had to do it one last time."

"I'm glad; I wanted to, too, just like that."

"Mmmm, you did. One last kiss; I don't like airport farewells."

It was a very good kiss, maybe expressing what we hadn't mentioned before. Her head dropped down on my shoulder, and we murmured goodnight, and then did easily fall asleep.

The wake-up call rang, and we got up and washed, which, of course, including my shaving. Then we put on "real clothes," as Marge remarked with a chuckle, and finished packing. In the dining room, everyone looked a little strange in their travel clothes, subject of a couple of remarks. 

Then it was time to say goodbye to those not taking our flight, everyone not just shaking hands, but hugging, which I don't really like, although it seemed more appropriate here than elsewhere, after having seen each other naked for two weeks. I had no problem with giving Petra and Anna nice hugs, of course, especially Anna, who immediately pressed her hips and breasts to me and looked like she wanted to kiss me, but we just rubbed cheeks. She murmured "thanks" in my ear. When we separated, I felt like I was blushing a little, recognizing that the others had seen that I got a better hug than she had given the others.

At the airport, having agreed that in Paris we all would be rushing off, the rest of us said goodbye with more hugs. Those of the roommates were naturally better, Marge's at least as good as Anna's. She also looked like she might want to kiss me. I wouldn't have minded, but she didn't. Still hugging us close, she murmured: 

"The tip of tapering off," and we thanked each other for a wonderful vacation.

Since we had booked in together, we had adjoining seats. We didn't have much to say. I was surprised when she raised the armrest between and put her hand on my thigh. We exchanged smiles, and I put mine on hers. Both our fingers moved a little, and we exchanged um-hmms. Of course, we couldn't hear them in the plane, but I knew from two weeks with her that we both knew that the other would respond that way. Then she gripped my thigh and said: 

"I should have said how good it all was with you."

"With you too, especially. Should have said so first."

We smiled and pursed our lips - really the tip of the tapering off. Before we left the plane, we promised to keep in contact via email, and then we went our ways.

Monday at the office, I had to respond to comments about my tan, avoiding mentioning that it was seamless and that I had been at Cap d'Agde. A closer friend caught me at the coffee machine, however, and winked and asked: 

"One of those places in France where everyone goes nude, where clothes aren't allowed on the beach?"

"You've been googling too much on internet."



Bastille Day Ch. 06



We smiled and pursed our lips - really the tip of the tapering off. Before we left the plane, we promised to keep in contact via email, and then we went our ways.

Monday at the office, I had to respond to comments about my tan, avoiding mentioning that it was seamless and that I had been at Cap d'Agde. A closer friend caught me at the coffee machine, however, and winked and asked: 

"One of those places in France where everyone goes nude, where clothes aren't allowed on the beach?"

"You've been googling too much on internet."

He snickered softly and replied: 

"I think so, if you said that. By yourself?"

"It was a group trip, no one I knew before."

"Hmm! Hope you had a good time."

"Yes," I replied in a tone to suggest the end of the topic.

At home that evening, I was surprised to find an email from Marge, pleasantly surprised, of course.

Hi!

Hope you got home safely and found everything in order. 

Bet the people at work admired your tan. Had to fend off 

a couple of questions about it and where we were. 

Thank you again for everything. At least, no one asked what

we did. Would they have been surprised! 

And was I surprised when I found the following from my 

brother! He sent it a couple of days after we left. 

I won't comment further. Looking forward to hearing from you,

Marge

Hi Marge,

You're going to like this. First, thank you for a most enjoyable weekend. After you left, she looked at me. Did I look guilty, embarrassed? She asked if we had a good time together. Maybe I did, then. Anyway, yeah, maybe she suspected it and then asked directly. Then I was embarrassed, but she just nodded and said that she had thought so. So I told her, that it was the first and only time since your birthday party. God, she is great! Just snickered and said that she hoped you weren't better than she was in bed. Of course, I assured her that you weren't (but damned good!). I think, however, the thought of possible competition has been a good incentive. All's well that ends well. Hope you had a fine vacation, especially that your roommate was compatible, maybe more than just compatible. Must have been very strange, sharing a room and then all like that on the beach. Looking forward to hearing about it, she is too, and assures me that she has no hard feelings towards you. 

Love, Rod

I almost laughed out loud at seeing her brother's name: just too appropriate. Short for Rodney? Unlikely, from Marge's name and their German background. I had already been chuckling over her few lines and then more over his, and chuckled some more as I wondered how she had replied. I felt sure that she would tell how well we had gotten along together, but would she mention all the rest? Had she told him that weekend that she had also slept with girls? 

I immediately replied, telling about my chuckling and then saying that I was curious how she had replied. I also remarked about the name of her brother with a winking smiley. I sent the message and then remembered to write Anna and Petra, deciding to send the message to both of them and to keep it fairly neutral, just saying that it had been a pleasure to have met them and that they had fitted in so well with our group. Of course, it was the other way around, physically: Ron, Willy and I had fitted so well in them, and I thought that they would understand that and could appreciate the play on words. 

Before I could click to send the message, I received a new message. Marge already? 

Hm-hm-hmm! Roderick. I never thought of that, too good! 

Wonder if she has. Old family name.

Yes, that was good, in the end. Don't know whether they will 

invite me back, might have to send the things for them. 

But she is nice, I like her. I haven't replied yet, wondering 

how much to tell. Of course, I will tell that you and I were 

very compatible, like hand in glove, a very well-fitting hand!

But the rest? Oh, that weekend I did tell him about girls, 

and he thought that was funny, "but why not, if I like it."

Let you know when I do. Don't forget to write A & P 

(AND P!) ;-) I haven't yet.

Marge

I chuckled again and replied that I had been just about to send my message to both "A&P " and would send her blind copy. Then I speculated about how Rod and his wife might react to the full story, hoping they would enjoy it, ending suggestively, "but maybe she likes you too."

I reread my text, correcting a couple of misspellings, and sent it. Then I added her address as a blind copy to the message to Anna and Petra and sent it. I had a beer, silently toasting the three of them, enjoying recollections of our time together.

In my lonely bed, those recollections became fantasies as I did what single men do in that situation. Whose mouth was I kissing, tasting it, after I had wiped it off my chest and stomach? Then I recalled that early in the trip Marge had suggested seeing if it would shoot up on my shoulder. Should I remind her about that, and see if I still could? (I could, but not that night, and I was fantasizing about "A & P" both helping me, probably why I never told Marge.)  

I was enjoying a beer late the next evening, about to click off, when another message arrived, from Marge, as I had hoped. Just part of it:

"After a glass of wine and with a second one, I told pretty 

much the whole story, left out my night with Willy and Ron. 

With no details, of course, just that a couple of times all six 

of us were together and that we were with the girls. Didn't 

say that I did anything with them, but that must be obvious to 

Rod. What will she think about that? 

Another - last glass of wine - Zum wohl!"

I raised my beer glass and emptied the little in it in response. With a second one, I continued to read: 

"Oh, after I wrote that, I went back and told about watching the parade and 

what happened. Hmm! That should realy surprise them! But it makes what

happened after that more logical, if that is the write word. We all really did 

that?! Wonder what they will think about me! Too late to worry; I've sent it. 

Think of me, I'll be thinking of you, like I did last night ...

Marge"

"Like I did last night," I agreed, smiling to myself, politely ignoring that I had also been thinking about Anna and Petra. I expected that she wouldn't still be up to read a reply, having finished her wine, that had led to a couple of typos. Yes, I would think of her, liking that she would be thinking of me.

I did, concentrating on everything we did the first week together.

The next evening, there were messages from both Petra and Anna. Petra's first: 

"Hi, nice to hear from you. From your "perky breasts" Haha!

 + ) 

; -)     o  > = 

 + ) 

I like to think of you like this:

O

/ / 

/ /

/ /

Not really only like that, just having fun with the keyboard.

===o (not like that; also too skinny :( 

Thank you and Marge for a great vacation. Don't know what we would have

done without you. ;-) 

Really! Ron and Willy were very nice, but as Anna told you (she told me), 

just for a couple of weeks. Great chance to practice our English. Haha!

Now what to send her, besides lots of thanks for introducing us to them?

Affectionately, Petra"

I snickered, thinking that her message was completely in character with how I remembered her. I glanced up to see if she had copied it to Marge. No, of course not, but Marge would enjoy it. Then I opened Anna's message: 

"Hallo,

I don't think I have to tell you that the time with you and Marge was the best 

part of my vacation. I hope for you too, I mean, except for with Marge, 

of course. Maybe I should not say it, but when I met my father yesterday 

(my parents are divorced), his first remark reminded me of you. Not that I 

think of you like that, but I had to recall our conversation with Marge, also 

what I said that night. 

Hope you don't mind. Oh, but I guess I suddenly thought about him like that.

Funny, never had before. This is getting too personal. 

Thank you for a wonderful time together.

Love, Anna"

I didn't mind, of course, touched by her admission that she didn't just think of me as a father figure. How could she after all we had done? And liking that she admitted that she could think of her father that way.

It was easy to respond immediately to Petra' fresh message, wondering if she had sent one to Marge with an appropriate - more likely, inappropriate - keyboard pic. The only one I could think of was a big O, then realizing that it would be appropriate in my message to Petra. I managed in my short text to lead to the following: "O, it was so good getting to know you! Just one O doesn't describe it."

I postponed replying to Anna, less sure about how to respond, but I thought about her that night.

The following evening I only had a brief message from Petra: 

"It sure doesn't! Thanks for all of them."

So I chose to think about her that night, recalling how she had told everyone that she wanted to do everything with me and how we had. I didn't used to do that every night, but I didn't used to have so many and so arousing fantasies for inspiration.

The next day was Friday, and as usual after work some of went out for a drink. I knew that I would be quizzed about my vacation, and I was. After fending off leading questions with smirks and chuckles, I grinned with the idea of squelching their speculations with the whole story by making sound like a fantasy. 

They believed me, until I told about the group sex in the suite of Sans-culotte and Stephan, but they liked that, despite some expressions of disbelief, which was what I had hoped. When I grinned and went on to tell that the six of us had spent two evenings together, they all believed that I was making it up, and one of them bought me a drink for my story. If they only knew! I had to laugh about some comments: "older man's fantasies;" "watching too many pornos, but I never saw anything like that;" "you just wish;" "not even on Literotica.com." 

I joshed them about their admissions about what they viewed on internet, diverting away from the last comment by asking what it was. A couple of them nodded with smirks, and the guy who had mentioned it smiled wryly and told about all the stories on the website. I feigned surprised interest. Others' interest wasn't feigned. After another round of drinks, with chuckles we separated, joking about going home to click on Literotica.com."

I didn't, didn't need to; my experiences had been better than just reading someone else's fantasies. I wanted to reply to Anna, but had had too much to drink to risk texting an appropriate response to her message. But I found a new message from Marge: 

"OMG! Whatever they think about me, they sure enjoyed that, 

and they didn't get any details, just that we had been 3, 4, 6 on 

a bed. Kind of hard to believe now. Wonder how they think we 

did it. Very good, thank you! A&P replied to my emails, 

completely in character. P wanted to type a pic for me, like she 

did for you, but gave up, so she included that instead. 

Hmmm! Very much in character, as was A's, very differently, 

of course. Back to what Rod (!) replied, below. 

Hope you had a good Friday evening - with 'the boys'?

Marge"

Wow, sister! If I didn't know you better - but I do ;) - I'd have to believe that you were making it all up. But since you're usually very direct - as I discovered - and there was no reason to enliven your vacation report that way, we assume it must be true.!! Liz was really surprised and very curious about what you all could have done together: "with the girls too?!" I thought so, said so, and was surprised that she seemed to like that. Sometime you will have to tell us. She sends her greetings, as do I, both with love - and from the boys,

Rod and Liz

I snickered and replied, saying that I hoped that they would really enjoy hearing the whole story. Then I told about my evening with the boys and ended by saying that I was going to bed, so that she wouldn't need to reply immediately. I added a teasing postscript:

"PS: Not sure whom I will think about tonight, been taking turns. Hm-hmm! You have a greater choice. Sweet dreams."

I went to bed and thought about them all, but just affectionately. In the morning, however, my stiff cock awakened me, inviting to be held, but it needed to do something else. While it was, I remembered that I had wanted to reply to Anna, glancing down and recalling that she had said it looked like her "Papa's" when she was only that tall. Pity that I hadn't had a daughter who could have seen mine. Had he wanted her to see his? The right or wrong thoughts to have when replying to her message?

I sat down at my computer, nude. I had never written emails that way, sometimes opening my pants and then baring my chest when I was reading a "H" story on Literotica or watching girls giving themselves an orgasm, which I find more arousing than seeing some guy with a cock bigger than mine doing something. I opened Anna's email again: 

"Hallo,

I don't think I have to tell you that the time with you and Marge was the best 

part of my vacation. I hope for you too, I mean, except for with Marge, 

of course. Maybe I should not say it, but when I met my father yesterday 

(my parents are divorced), his first remark reminded me of you. Not that I 

think of you like that, but I had to recall our conversation with Marge, also 

what I said that night. 

Hope you don't mind. Oh, but I guess I suddenly thought about him like that.

Funny, never had before. This is getting too personal. 

Thank you for a wonderful time together.

Love, Anna"

How should a man my age reply to that? One of my hands unconsciously slipped down between the chair and my balls, fondling them, letting me recall that she had sucked them. Couldn't tell her about that, as nice as it was as a way to recall her, and certainly not that I then recalled that she had wanted to suck my cock and have me lick her muschi, because it was often better for her that way.

It had been! Stop that and get your hands on the keyboard, even if it's beginning to stick up!

Dear Anna, 

It was just like you said, the best part of it. Thank you! Marge understands; 

wrote to remind me to write "A & P (AND P!)", but I already had.

I don't mind one bit. I hope you get to see your father more often. 

If you think we are similar, I find that nice, like I did you.

My hand was back fondling my balls as I reread what I had typed. Originally, I had written: "... get to see more of your father," but changed it, although that was literally what I meant. In the last line, I had changed "... like I do you" to "... like I did you." 

Fondling my balls, I smiled at the recognition that "like I did you" could be inferred to mean what we had done together. I had made the change to avoid suggesting that I was still infatuated with her. Was I? Too strong a word? Now the sentence was more subtly suggestive. Would she catch that? I hoped so, fondling my balls and looking down at my cock, wondering if she would get to see his, now as a grown woman. 

Should I close with "love," "affectionately," something less? Petra had written "affectionately;" I felt more for Anna. I typed "Love" with one finger, enjoying that I was fondling my balls while I did, thinking, yes, like that, but not just that way, like I would have my loved my daughter - also that way?

I would have; it would have happened somehow, even if in my fantasy she looked more like Anna and was as eager as she had been to do what my hand was - with hers, with her pussy, with her mouth. But it was all up and down my chest and stomach. I wiped it up and licked my fingers with fond thoughts of Anna, remembering her kisses. I should have mentioned before that her lips were fuller than Petra's, complementing her nice round breasts. Petra's were just as nice in a different way, appropriate to her perky breasts and more outspokenness.

As I was savoring the last wipe of my fingers, a new email popped up, from Marge:

"Mmmm! My greater choice. Went through them all, took a while, but then it was you or Anna, different sensations, but both then with two hands I did my best to think of you both. Did we three do that? Whatever, my hands did, and you both were very good. Isn't she sweet? I know you think she is, but I do too, if you don't mind. You don't; we know each other so well, and I don't either. Nice way to wake up in the morning. Not as good as waking up with you in bed, but we can't have everything.

Marge, waiting to hear from you."

Marge, "we know each other so well." While your fingers were doing what 

they could, mine were too. You won't mind, I hope, that I was thinking 

about A, having just replied to her email from a couple of days ago. Wasn't 

in the mood for that last night. No, I didn't tell her how I was in the mood

to do so this morning. Hmm! You're lucky that you can use both hands and

think of us both.

Have a nice weekend, and next time I will tell you how I remember our 

first nights.

Only a few seconds later, she replied, just one line preceding my text above hers:

"Make it good!" with the smiley with extended tongue. 

I grinned and chuckled to myself, wondering if whoever had designed smileys had meant that one to be used the way Marge meant it.

It was a couple of days before I replied to Marge with a recital of how I remembered what we had done. She thanked me, saying that I had gotten it all right, if maybe not in the right order, adding an episode that I had forgotten to include. 

Then our correspondence waned, keeping in touch, but without the erotic content. I didn't expect to hear from Petra and didn't, but did wonder that I hadn't heard from Anna, recalling then that she had said that she had a potential boyfriend. Lucky guy, I thought, but was not enthused, recognizing that I had no problem if she did something with her father. 

Then one evening in mid August, I found an email from each of them. I chose to open Marge's first: 

"Hi,

Oh, this is going to be interesting. Rod and Liz have invited me to spend a few days with them the last week in August. The boys will be visiting our parents. I can take off Friday for a long weekend, arriving late on Thursday. And I am supposed to tell all! Well, that was from his other message, but I expect that they haven't forgotten. Wish me luck!

Marge"

I wished her a lot of luck, with three smileys: smiling, winking, and with tongue extending. She replied immediately to say that she wasn't sure which one was appropriate. Then I ventured to open Anna's email, hoping it would be nice, but apprehensive that it might mention her friend, hoping that she would be tactfully reticent, if she did.

"Hallo,

I wanted to write before, but too much studies. I could have mentioned it before; when I met my father, he suggested that maybe I would like to spend a weekend with him, about an hour by train from here. This weekend.

Will he ask me what Petra and I did? Probably. Have to think about what to tell. Of course, he knows now that I sleep with boys - not like the first year or two. Rather think, however, that he would not be so keen to learn that I had a vacation affair, forgetting the rest. Maybe with you? But what would Petra have been doing? Maybe: "just spent a lot of time with a nice American your age (Papa's) and his younger lady friend"? Petra too? Have to think about it.

Oh, no one has seen my tan - fading now. Well, the girls at my sports club, who were very impressed and asked lots of questions. Just told them about Ron and Willy, but they liked that, hopefully assuming that we were in separate rooms.

Got to go.

Love,

Anna"

Funny how one can almost hear a person's voice when reading a letter. She could be so tactful: "no one has seen my tan." I went to bed, thinking about how to reply as I fell asleep.




Bastille Day Ch. 06



Saturday morning, I looked at myself in the mirror, pulling in my stomach as I observed that my tan was also fading, and sat down at my computer, wondering if I was always going to be naked when replying to her emails.

I thanked her for her "delightful" message and wished her luck at what to tell her father, telling about my experience the first Friday night after the trip. Then I added that that wasn't a suggestion for what to tell her father. I ended with: 

"I'm hoping you have had a nice weekend with your father. I would be interested to hear if it was like you hope.

Love"

After I sent it, I wondered if the last line suggested more than she was thinking. Had I wanted to suggest she should? Should what? Just think about him like she did about me? Take the initiative to do something with him? Yes, I wanted her to, wanted them to.

I showered and had breakfast before I got dressed to go grocery shopping.

During the following week, Buffy sent us all a message telling that he had put a report on his forum about the trip and that he had started two new forums: "Join a Flash Mob for Nude Day in France" and "Bastille Day is Nude Day, come to France." As he explained: 

"The report is fairly tame, just pointing out that it was a group of Literotica fans who got on very well together, including a couple of girls who weren't part of the group but fit in just as well, to the delight of the two surplus men in the group. The new forums are invitations to join the flash mob on Nude Day, wherever the Tour de France puts us. Please sign up and let others know."

By the time I went to bed that evening, there were several round robin messages from others expressing their enthusiasm, also one from Marge: 

"Can we afford to go? Can we afford not to go?!

More later after the seeing Liz and Rod.

Bet you want to know all!"

"Yes, I do!" I replied with a winking smiley.

Friday evening was drinks after work again, no longer with comments about my story, but my mind was wandering in that direction, wondering how Anna and her father had gotten along together.

That night in bed, I fantasized with various scenarios: how she could seduce him; how he could admit that he wanted to sleep with her. A couple of times my hand forgot what it was doing, when I got too involved in trying to make the one or the other version seem plausible. That might have been easier, thinking about Petra with her more direct manner, but my fantasies were about Anna. I skipped past how they got there and just thought about what they would then do, something I knew a lot about with her. 

During the weekend, my thoughts often returned to the subject, sometimes admonishing me for thinking that they would have want to do what I wanted them to do; more often speculating about how they could. I hurried home Monday evening, hoping to hear from her, but there was no message from her. I chastised myself for assuming that she would so immediately satisfy my curiosity, that she would even want to - admit that she had slept with her father?! She hadn't really admitted that she wanted to. Much too much Freudian projection, not that I needed it, since I had slept with her every way possible; no need to have her father do it in my stead.

Tuesday evening, there was also no message from her. Silly old man, I thought to myself, wanting a girl you slept with a couple of nights in France to tell you about her love life, especially if it was with her father.

But Wednesday evening there was a message from her. Before I opened it, I got a beer. On the way back to my computer, I suddenly remembered decades earlier having done the same before opening letters from my girlfriend in another college. Silly old man! I opened it:

"Hallo,

Thank you for your message. :-) That was funny, what you told your colleagues. No, I didn't do that. I started to write you Monday evening, but realized that I wanted to write more than I had time to. I have started over, a Word document that I will send as an attachment when it's finished. Could be a couple of days. It's being fun to write, much more fun than trying to a write a short story for my English course here last year, and fun remembering.

That should tell you already that we had a good weekend together. You wanted to hear if it was like I hoped. I wasn't sure what I hoped, but it was.

Love, Anna"

I finished my beer as I read and reread her email, chuckling and smiling to myself. It was both promising and enticing. Did they, didn't they, but maybe would? It was going to worth waiting to read her attachment. 

I got another beer and replied: 

"Dear Anna,

Thank you. You know how to make me curious. Whatever you hoped, I am looking forward to reading when it's finished.

Love"

I read my other emails, a couple more in response to Buffy's message. In bed that night, I worked on more fantasies about Anna and her father, this time letting him be less reluctant.

Thursday and Friday there was no message from her, also not on Saturday, to my disappointment. How many times did I return to my computer to check? In the late afternoon, I computed that it was too late in Germany to expect that she would send it, and went out for the evening. When I returned, I still checked again. 

But Sunday morning - finally! - there was a message from her, and with the symbol that it had an attachment: 

"Hallo,

Finally! I just reread it this morning - before I got dressed. ;-) Think of me like that, now not so tanned. I hope you enjoy it, that you wanted us to. I should have worked so hard on that short story last year. This is one too, not a letter to you. I really want to share it with Papa, but then I would have to explain why it's in English. Maybe next time I see him, I can ask if he doesn't mind that I wrote it for you. We are going to see more of each other. Well, we can't really! I hope you like that. But you - and Marge - helped it happen.

So, thanks and love,

Anna."

I fondled my balls. Oh, I was going to like it! I replied: 

"Dear Anna,

"I do like that; sure I will enjoy it. Just got up - think of me like that, too. In my second message to you, originally I wrote that I hoped that you 'would see more of your father', but changed it, not to imply more than you maybe meant. I'll have breakfast first, but then ... 

Thinking of you," and sent it.

I washed and shaved and took time to have a good breakfast, but then hurried back to my computer with a fresh cup of coffee. Of course, I didn't wait to get dressed. I opened her attachment.

I found it delightful - and arousing - as she had seemed to have wanted it to. 

[Readers can find it as separate story posted last year on Literotica: "He wanted to see more of me."]

It was a couple of hours after my first message to her when I finished reading it. I wrote a new one: 

"Dear Anna,

Many thanks! That was how I hoped it would be, for you, for him, for me, and from your English. Sometimes I heard your voice between quotation marks. Delightful! I knew without your putting it in words how it was. That made it special for me, very special. Thank you again. I think Marge would enjoy it just as much, if you wanted to send it to her. 

Since you said such nice things about me, told him them, I think he would understand that you wanted to share it with me. I mean, I think he would very much enjoy knowing how you expressed it all. If I were him, I certainly would. You can tell him that.

Oh, more tactful would be to explain that you want to send it to me, but only if he agrees. He doesn't have to know that I already have it.

Love"

I sent the message and clicked back on her attachment and enjoyed it again, even more, trying to hear her voice in all her statements. I hadn't finished it, when I received a new message from her:

"You're dear! I wish writing essays for my course were so much fun. Maybe if I knew I was writing for such an appreciative reader. Oh, it was so good! Thank you for helping it happen, and thank you for how you made it happen! We've already agree to 'see more of each other' next weekend. I was afraid that maybe he would have misgivings, but he hasn't, and I sure haven't.

Who needs a boyfriend? I spent a lot of time finding the right words, like "misgivings" just now. 

'See more of each other," can be an expression in German, but not as common as in English, but so appropriate. I used it more often than we did. The story took on its own life. Fun, trying to make it good in English, but more effort than I had expected. But I wanted to, and your reply made it all worth the effort. Thank you! Also for your thinking that he would understand and like it.

Love, Anna"

That made my day! No, I didn't do anything: too many just fond and fatherly feelings. I check the calendar and saw that Marge would be spending the next weekend with Rod and Liz. That promised to be just as interesting, and I assumed that she would tell me what happened, but the thought that both of them would be enjoying themselves so well let me feel left out. 

I googled to see if there was nudist club in my area. There was, but I decided not to try it and planned to do something else on the weekend to distract myself from thoughts about them.

I spent the weekend visiting a few historical and cultural sights in the area, the kind of places one takes guests to see, but never visits alone. That did distracted me from thoughts about them, but only until I saw families with teenaged daughters, and was reminded too much about Anna and Petra - and all the younger girls I had seen nude at Cap d'Agde.

I didn't have sexual thoughts about the teenagers, just appreciated that some of them seemed to be enjoying flaunting as much of their vacation tans as they could: hot pants, strapless tank tops, a few with bare midriffs. Some looked like they were experimenting for the first time with their now bikini figure, one that could hold up a strapless top. They did, some with tan lines on their shoulders, some without. Some of those were quite young. 

Their parents seemed to have varying attitudes towards their daughter's obvious blossoming; some apparently pleased, proud; some looking less so, apprehensively watching if boys their age were ogling. And some parents were of two minds: dad obviously appreciating that his daughter was growing up; while mom kept her eye on him. 

I didn't speculate further. Oh, I did, wondering why they let her go strapless, if mom apparently disapproved, because Dad said that she could? Would he have dared say that he thought she had the figure to do so? And the pleased, proud parents, especially one couple with equally good tans, was the family maybe nudists, they had seen their young daughter's seamless tan, like I had seen Anna's and Petras? 

I tried to think about them, instead of wondering what kind of nipples the girls had - just intellectual curiosity. Late Sunday evening, Marge didn't disappoint me, and I forgot about American teenagers: 

"Hi, 

I know you must be very curious about my weekend. It was good! 

I was a little apprehensive when I arrived Thursday evening. We kept our clothes on. Liz did ask if it had really been like that in France, but that was all. Friday morning, Rod went to work. When the sun was higher, Liz suggested we sunbathe. After joking that her tan was better, we sat down. A minute or two later, she asked me again about France, wanting confirmation that I had really slept with the girls and if that was good. 

I'm keeping this brief; you can use your imagination. 

I could see what she was leading to. Finally, she said: "I told Rod he could sleep with you, but I want to, too. Didn't tell him that."

We did. Of course, it was good; women don't need any experience to know what to do. She didn't. She was a little silly afterwards, giggling that she was pleased that she had dare to ask. In that light mood, she asked if all the women were shaven, asking if I hadn't felt 'overdressed.' I told her our conversation about that. Like a couple of teenagers, we did with some giggles, helping each other. We both look like we're wearing white mini strings with camel toe. But before we stood up to discover that, my fingers and then hers aroused each other. Good thing that I started; she hadn't expected it to be so good (understatement). Took her a while to make me whimper and laugh the way she had, better than when she did it to herself, she admitted. 

Then we went back in the sun, agreeing to stay naked and surprise Rod when he came back. He was! Immediately surmising that that we hadn't just shaved. Liz blushed at his direct question, but grinned and confirmed that we had and that it had been good. We managed to have a round of cocktails before he insisted that we show him what we had done. You know what happened then, him with Liz. I really don't need to tell you how the rest of the weekend went. We did everything we could. I guess we were pretty regular about taking turns. In between, they wanted more details about what we all did in France. They were a little surprised that both girls wanted to do everything with you, but I assured them that the girls had shown good taste - from my experience.

Enough. Just need to catch up on lost sleep tonight, but too late for that already. You deserve a little - no, a lot of - thanks for my weekend; without you in France, it all would have been different.

Goodnight, Marge"

I clicked to answer her email:

"Hi,

Thanks. As you can see, I've been just waiting to hear from you. Glad it was sooo good, better than I could imagine, and I have been trying to.

Goodnight"

Before I clicked on "send", it occurred to me to say something about liking shaven pussies, but didn't.

Monday evening, there was a message from Anna: 

"Oh gosh! He asked me to stop calling him Papa. I was already trying not to, but it just slipped out. He was delighted with my story, said I got it just right about him. He wasn't so sure about my sending it to you. Thank you for suggesting that I ask him, but Sunday, he agreed, with another wry smile. Another one only after the couple in response to my answers to his questions about you, luckily just about you and Marge. He agreed with me that you had much to do with (I don't want to say "responsibility for") what has happened and that you deserve to know, maybe with thanks from him. You know that you have my thanks, not just for what has happened here.

I won't send it to Marge, since it is too much about you. But if you think that wouldn't bother her and she would like it, you may.

Love, Anna"

I heard her voice as I read, wondering if she heard mine when she read my emails. I was, of course, delighted that he had agreed that I "deserved" to know, recalling that Marge had used the same word. Very nice to read that from them both, but not much good for me. Can't have everything, old man, I thought to myself; you had enough in France for the past year or two - or more - and maybe for the future, too. I clicked on the attachment to her of her previous email and enjoyed it again. I figured with the time difference to Germany, that I could postpone replying to Anna and went to bed and had a confused fantasy that included them both.

Tuesday evening, I did reply to Anna, trying to write something that could sound like my voice. Late Wednesday evening, I was very surprised to receive a short email from Marge again, and much more surprised at the long text from her brother, that ended with the suggestion that she invite me to join the three of them.

[Her email with his text was also posted last year as a separate story: "You started something."]

I replied with written snickers and that I wasn't sure about meeting them, but that it sounded most inviting. The next day, she replied that she should have added that she would like to see me again and that she thought I could get along with her brother and sister, "also like they mean."

In the following weeks, we just kept in contact. Anna wrote me after each visit with her father, not with any details, but it was nice that their seeing more of each other reminded her to think of me. I heard about everything else she did, and replied to that, sometimes thinking my comments sounded like those of a father, a sort of exchange of roles with him. Sometimes she replied immediately to them, which was nice, and occasionally she referred to our times together in France, even nicer.

The correspondence about the flash mob also continued. Near the end of October, the route of the Tour de France was announced. The étape on July 14th would end at Mont Ventoux, a mountain in the Provence that had several times been on the mountainous part of the tour.

This new information upset a few who had been looking forward to a vacation near Mont St. Michel, but then Sans-culotte sent an email to everyone, telling that there was a very nice nudist resort near the base of Mont Ventoux and also fairly close to Avignon, where there was an airport. He explained that it wouldn't be like Cap d'Agde, more family-oriented, but that it couldn't be more convenient for what we wanted to do. He also pointed out that it was a remote area, so that there would probably only be tour fans around, that a nudist flash mob would be less likely to be seen by people who were on a family outing our tourists to Mont St. Michel. 

It seemed as though everyone clicked on the website of the nudist resort. The next day, there were many new messages thanking him for his information and agreeing that that is where we all should go. A few said that the Cap d'Agde experience did not have to be repeated, that they were especially pleased that the resort would be quieter vacation. 

Marge and I agreed, independently and then together, when we saw each other's message, registering to join the group. Sans-culotte then pointed out that there were different types of accommodations and that we should make our own reservations. We looked at the possibilities. Then I got a message from Marge: 

"Hi, 

Just had a new idea that I think you would like. Just to avoid too much one-on-one, OF COURSE, what about inviting Anna and staying in something for three persons? 'Small Family Unit' is perhaps not the right expression for us, more the French expression for what we would be.

Do I hear your heart beating faster? I don't mind; I like her too, save her from Willy and Ron. Oh, they already mentioned that they had companions for the trip. All the better.

Doesn't have to be fancy; just a double and a single bed. What do you think? I'll split the costs with you.

Marge"

Yes, my heart was beating faster, but would Anna want to, could she? She wasn't receiving all the emails from the group. (I had checked.) I immediately clicked on the resort's website and found the cheapest and next cheapest accommodations that met Marge's description and replied to her with links: 

"Hi,

OF COURSE, just to avoid too much one-on-one. You're a dear! (Why we need ... see first sentence.) What about one of these? [my links] If she can't join us, I'll pay the difference to what just we two would need, so that we can book as soon as possible. And if we decided to cool off, we would have an extra bed, but I hope not. She probably cannot decide immediately. She wouldn't have to tell her father. No, she would, if she returned home with another seamless tan. Have to point that out to her, but it will be fun inviting her. Or maybe you should. She knows that I have told you about what happened after the last trip. Let me know."

Marge replied immediately that she would split the cost on either choice, even if Anna could not join us, since it had been her idea, and also that she thought it was a good idea for her to invite her, saying that she would "cc" me on the message. I wished her success and reserved the less cheap - better, more expensive - accommodation.




Bastille Day Ch. 06



Marge's message to Anna was better than mine would have been - probably wanting to type with one hand. She replied immediately, very delighted, but with the reservations that I had mentioned. She said that she would do everything possible to be able to join us, but that it was too early to tell her father that she was planning her summer vacation, "especially then my tan." Marge had mentioned that problem.

Anna's subsequent correspondence was to us both, telling that she thought the resort was just right. We shared our replies. That continued until March 2013, when she replied:

"Dear both of you!

Yes, I can come! So many thanks for your invitation! He knows that you have, maybe not as delighted as I am, but liking that it wouldn't be like last year, my 'meeting' someone new, just for that. He says that he thinks he would like you both and likes that we three like each other enough to want to be together again. Isn't he dear! He is. Again, thank you so much.

Till July,

Love, Anna."

We were just as delighted; Marge's reply as enthusiastic as mine. 

That is getting ahead of what happened after Christmas. Each Christmas, Liz and Rod invited their parents and also Marge to celebrate Christmas with them and their two sons. Then the boys would spend a few days with one or the other grandparents. 

After she wrote to invite Anna to join us, she reminded me of the invitation to join her brother and wife after the grandparents and boys departed. How could I refuse, after our planning another vacation together? I didn't want to, although I was still apprehensive about planning group sex with a couple I didn't know. Marge sent me photos of them - naked! They were attractive, as they must have known, since they had made them just for Marge to send me. I didn't provide one of myself, hoping that whatever Marge had told about me was good enough.

The morning after the grandparents had left with the boys, she picked me up in her car. We hardly embraced, more smirking than smiling at each other. During the drive, she explained that they had agreed that they all should be dressed when I arrived: 

"They weren't, when I left."

"Last night?"

"Um-hmm, and this morning; I hope you're ready for this."

"Hmmm?! I do too, but not before lunch."

"I don't think so, but just to warn you, they are really looking forward to this."

"Hmm? Better than in France?"

"Couldn't be," she smirked and added: "without Anna ... and maybe also Petra." 

"Don't remind me right now."

We smiled, and then we were there. They were dressed. Did she -Liz - have a bra on? Had Marge? That I hadn't noticed?

They both didn't, as I discovered, as they revealed after a lunch of cold turkey. It started with a challenge to swim in the wintery cold pool, obviously just an excuse to take off our clothes, as we all knew. A brief, cold swim was good for seeing tight nipples, not good for cocks and balls, but that kept it from looking like we were all thinking about having sex together - for a while, till after the first cocktail.

Was that the last time we wore clothes? Not quite; one evening I insisted on inviting them all out for dinner. But the rest of the time ...! We did everything two couples can do - without Rod and me doing anything with each other, although Liz and Marge after drinks once teased us that they wanted to see us do it, arguing that we liked to watch them and that since they liked to do it together, we should too. We both agreed that we didn't mind who sucked our cocks, but that we weren't going to. 

New Year's Day was Tuesday, but in private Marge and I agreed on Friday that although we both had Monday off, we should leave on Sunday. Rod and Liz agreed. There was a limit to how much group sex we needed, tapering off a little. Once that had been agreed, however, the recognition when our visit would end was a spur to get in more licks and sucks and fucks - with variations that we all only knew from porn videos. It was a still a little disconcerting to look up from fucking Liz doggy style and seeing her husband grin at me across the bed, where he was doing the same with his sister.

Marge and I drove off, having agreed in private again, that we would spend the next two nights at her place. They were much quieter, but as she had said our last night together in France, we wouldn't go to sleep if we didn't do something.

For once, I didn't get carried away again, but it would only have been a repetition of what happened in France.

Back home, there were lots of emails confirming participation in the flash mob project, and that they all had reservations at the resort. On that front, then was little new, Buffy occasionally reminding us of dates and to make travel arrangements to fly to Paris and on to Avignon. Sans-culotte advised of how to get to the resort, information that Marge and I passed on to Anna after she agreed to join us, later saying that she would arrive a day after we did, the weekend after July 4th.

As the date approached, there was another flurry of emails. Everyone had been working his or her tan. I had been too, also on my stomach bulge, not without thinking about Marge and Anna - probably in the other order. Buffy told that he and his girlfriend had used two old bed sheets to make "International Nude Day" posters, also with that in French. As he wrote, there was lots of space in their suitcases. Sans-culotte told that he had looked into the possible legal problems, since there would surely be police around, advising us that someone in clothes should have our identification and enough cash for fines, which he thought would be minor. 

Marge told me that Rod and Liz had hoped that we could visit them again before the trip, but they hadn't found a way to get their boys out of the way. She and I agreed that we didn't need that too, that it would take the edge off meeting again in France. 

We did at the airport in Paris, waiting for our flight to Avignon. Like the other couples, who didn't arrive on the same flight, we embraced, smirking, but this time with a kiss. Then we greeted the others we knew, and then those who were new to the group. 

Finally at the resort, we felt a little funny in our clothes, since everyone was nude, not like at Cap d'Agde, where the hotel had been outside the naturist area. Marge and I found our quarters and were soon naked. After we had unpacked, with smirks, we decided "first" to explore the resort.

Our exploring the facilities of the resort and seeing so many nude persons, even the kids of all ages, was a catalyst - not the kids. Marge gripped my hand with a grin, and we returned to our place. She did it, I did it, we did it! 

We had been delightfully and very satisfyingly carried away, but I think those nine words express that adequately. I had told her how much I liked her shaven pussy/muschi when we were together after Christmas, but I told her again. I didn't tell her that it also made me think of Anna's.

We lay in bed, smiling at each other with pleased hums. After a few moments, she said: 

"Tomorrow you can do that with her, ... but then .... You have to live with both of us."

"Thanks, ... so do you."

"She too!"

We grinned and rolled together and sealed our agreement with a kiss. We took the shower together that we should have taken before, snickering about the fact that we hadn't and that it was much more necessary after the exertion of our love making.

We left our place and found others from our group, all agreeing that the resort was as good as we had hoped it would be. Other couples joined us, also agreeing, after having been greeted with slight smirks that suggested that it was assumed that they had also enjoyed themselves like we had.

During dinner, Buffy and Sans-culotte visited our tables, suggesting that we get together and discuss plans for our flash mob. At the meeting, it was apparent that they had been doing more preparation than we had expected. They suggested that others could join them the next day to survey the area where the flash mob would be. Marge and I were curious, but had to stay in the resort to welcome Anna. Someone asked if other people at the resort might be interested in participating. Sans-culotte immediately agreed that they should be invited to join us and that they would follow up on the suggestion. 

Everyone was pleased, and we moved to the bar to continue the evening, where we got to know the new members a little better. Marge and I talked with Willy and Ron and their girlfriends, who seemed very well informed about the group and what had happened last year. When we mentioned that Anna would be staying with us, the four of them nodded with smiles. Ron's friend grabbed his hand and remarked with a smirk: 

"That was last year."

He nodded, giving her a grin, and Willy and his friend held hands, nodding with smiles. Marge and I also held hands, returning their smiles. We all finished our drinks and wished each other goodnight, with smiles that suggested that we weren't just thinking about sleeping.

Marge and I weren't either, when we were back in our room, both of us chuckling when she remarked softly: 

"Last chance to just have you by myself."

"Last time just one-on-one."

"Um-hmm, but we planned it this way."

We lay down head to foot, of course, mouth to cock and mouth to muschi. I have to admit that I was wondering if that was what Anna would want to do first, recalling that she had said that sometimes that was better than fucking, the word she didn't like to use.

I don't know if Marge also felt that way, but she sure didn't seem less aroused when her pussy juice flooded my face, and she and I were both delighted when my cock surged and filled her mouth. She turned around and let me taste it with a good kiss, and we curled up and went to sleep.

In the morning, she chuckled and murmured: 

"You'd better save it for her." 

So we didn't do anything about my cock between her thighs, not that we really could have; I had to go to the bathroom. 

After breakfast, Sans-culotte, Buffy, and a couple of others dressed for the drive to inspect the area. Sans-culotte had already recruited a couple of French people at the resort, who offered to drive. He was there with his car, but a few more people want to see the area. Marge and I agreed to join in group activities, something new for us.

Playing volleyball - more trying to play - I discovered that still photos on the many websites about naturists didn't really show why it was an attractive sport at nude resorts: jiggling breasts, flopping cocks and balls. Maybe I only noticed because it was new to me, also recognizing that too well endowed women didn't participate, but that some well-endowed younger ones did. Marge caught me looking - also at her breasts - and grinned.

We had lunch with a couple from the game who spoke English, telling them about our flash mob project. They thought it could provide a surprising few minutes to the TV reporting of the Tour de France, but weren't sure that they would want to participate. After lunch, we left a message at the entrance for the receptionist to call us when single young woman arrived, giving Anna's name.

We returned to our place and took our usual shower together. Before we turned off the water, Marge stroked my cheek and asked with smirk if I didn't want to shave again. So I did, not that I have such a heavy beard. While I was, she snickered and said: 

"She'll probably want to have a shower with you too, but not want to wait for you to shave."

I nodded with a chuckle, liking her generous attitude, and mumbled: 

"Just to avoid too much one-on-one." 

She nodded with a smile. We sunned on the balcony of our place, almost dozing. An hour or so later the phone roused us, and we hurried to the entrance. I hoped that Marge also thought that Anna looked better than I remembered. She smiled when she saw us, naked, of course, and smirked with a glance down at herself. She greeted us, first shaking hands with Marge, but then embracing her. Then she immediately embraced me, like she had at the airport. Kind of strange to be embracing a woman like that when you're naked and she has clothes on and presses her hips and thighs to yours. She wasn't wearing a bra - didn't need to - my hand on her back confirmed. 

I grabbed her bag, and we led her to our place, while she thanked us for inviting her. When she saw our accommodation, the large double bed and single bed, she smirked slightly with a nod and murmured: "As big as the ones last summer."

We both nodded with smiles. When I set down her bag, she smiled and remarked: 

"Guess I don't need much in it, just toiletries, but them after the trip; I need a shower."

"We thought so," Marge replied, then adding with a nice smile: 

"I'm sure you two don't need me around for a while; see you later."

Before Anna could reply, Marge was turning to go. Anna looked at me, a little surprised, but smiling, and then Marge was gone. Anna smiled a little wryly with a questioning expression and asked: 

"She planned that, this?"

"Sort of, said so last night."

"Sweet of her."

"Um-hmm, ... but just for this afternoon, I think," I replied with a wink.

"Of course!"

"Shower?"

"Yes!"

She stripped of her clothes, smiling at me as she revealed her tan. It showed that she had gotten most of it in her bikini, not the most revealing type of bikini, but where it had been was also tanned as much as some of the other girls at the resort, her breasts more than below. She nodded in response to my glancing - ogling is probably a better word - and remarked: 

"It's easier to go topless."

We exchanged smiles, as I nodded, and then we were in the shower together. She seemed to have expected that, although we hadn't showered together last year. 

Oh, it was a good shower! We both wanted it to be one like that. I wondered if we wouldn't do more than just shower in the stall, but we managed to stop and dry each other off. I thought we would jump on the double bed, but she flung back the covers on the single bed; good idea not to wet the big bed and make it too obvious to Marge how good it was going to be. Anna murmured: 

"Like last year; you know what I want to do."

Oh, I did! She wanted to lie on me and suck my cock and for me to lick her pussy - no, muschi, she called it - and I remembered that she had said that it was sometimes better for her than having a cock in it - to avoid using the word she didn't like.

I have to get carried away again.



Bastille Day Ch. 07



Oh, I did!  She wanted to lie on me and suck my cock and for me to lick her pussy  - no, muschi, she called it -  and I remembered that she had said that it was sometimes better for her than having a cock in it  - to avoid using the word she didn't like.

I have to get carried away again.  

What I was doing was as good as ever before, and not just for me; she loved having her muschi licked as much as I loved licking it  - and her twitching asshole.  She hummed with an approving, encouraging nod.  But what she was doing was better than ever before, and better than what Petra or Marge or her sister had done.  

One could naturally think that whoever is sucking one's cock is the best.  At that moment, it always feels so good, couldn't feel better, more arousing.  But it was, I knew it was!  Her lips and teeth were moving further down on my cock than anyone's ever had before, and the head of my cock was rubbing on the back of pallet, rubbing it where it was most sensitive!  And she was sucking and humming.  God, she loved what she was doing!  Couldn't love it more than I did!

As I gave myself up to anticipating my pending orgasm, I recalled that she had made me come first in this position last year; it would be all right if she did again now.  My head dropped back, and I clutched her ass, as my hips began to twitch.  Did she nod in agreement, or was it just a better nod on my surging cock?  It was that for sure.  My moans shifted to a sharp grunt, and I came, grunting again and again, as I felt my cock spurt in her mouth.  Her moans vibrated on my cock.  

She raised her head a little and licked around the head of my cock, nodding with an “uhn-hnnn.”  I caught my breath and raised my head again.  After a moment, she rose on her arms, turning her muschi down on my mouth, and after a few more moments, she sat up, letting me lower my head on the pillow.  My hands found her breasts, and hers clasped over mine.

A minute or two later, her appreciative moans became more aroused ones, and then almost pained whimpers, but they were only the last prelude to her very juicy orgasm.  She collapsed down on me, her head on my thigh, as her hand found my again aroused cock.  It just held it, as though she needed something to hold onto.  She extended her legs, and we recovered with rising and falling stomachs.

Her fingers slid down and fondled my balls, and she sighed with long moan.  I rubbed her back.  “Um-hmm,” she agreed.  

Then she scramble around, lying on me with a smile.  She planted a good kiss on my lips, not just on my lips, her tongue finding mine for a few moments.  She raised her head with a pleased sounding moan, smiling again, and murmured:  
“Oh, that was good!  Just the way I hoped.  …  He does it that good too, … now.  At first, oh, he wanted to, but then let me tell him what made it better.”
“Lucky father.”
“Me too, lucky daughter.  He just loves it when I do that to him.”
“Not just he does.  …  Better than I remembered.”
“Hm-hmm!  I hoped so.  He thinks so too.”
“He should.”
“Oh!  I forgot that you come like that.  He doesn't.  Oh, he does, just as much and just as good, but not shooting like that.”
“Hmm!  I'm sure it is just as good for him.”
“But I like it the way you do.  …  Willy came more like he does.”
“Hope his girlfriend doesn't mind.”
“They're here, Ron and Willy?”
“With girlfriends.”
“That's good.”
“We thought so too.”
“Oh, Marge, sort of forgot her, … not really.  Nice that you both wanted me to join you.”
“Very much.”
“Me too, … both of you, … if you know what I mean?”
“Hm-hmm!  I am sure she does.  I know she does.”
“Oh, I saw Petra a couple of times, like that, of course.  Didn't tell her about this.”
“He knows?”
“That we do?  Told him after the trip; not that we already had before.  …  Oh!  But when he stopped  worrying about it all, he once asked if I wanted to invite her.”
“To join you?”
“I think that is what he meant.  I didn't, couldn't let her know I was sleeping with my father.”
“Of course not, but I can understand his curiosity.”
“Um-hmm, maybe imagining that it could be like here.”
“It will be.”

I rubbed her ass.  She nodded and then snickered and said:  
“Not just Petra;  another girl at my university.  I don't think she cares for boys, but she didn't mind that I do.”
“And boys?”
“Hmm!  Too much trouble.  …  Not really, but not just for that, for this.  He doesn't know about the other girl, and she wants to study in England this fall.”


I rubbed her ass again and remarked:  
“Not just for this.”
“With you … and Marge, it's not just for 'this'.”
“I don't think so either.”

She smiled with a nod and kissed me, not like before, but more than a daughter should kiss her father, if they kissed on their lips.  But she wasn't my daughter.

We agreed to get up and find Marge, agreeing that we should wash first.  She remade the bed, and we went out to look for her.

When she took my hand, I liked that she did; lots of other couples in the resort went hand in hand.  We dropped our hands when we found Marge talking with a couple of those from our group who had gone out in the morning to see where the Tour de France would be.  She smiled, nodding slightly, and remarked:  
“You'll remember Anna from last year.  We invited her to stay with us.”

They did, of course, greeting her.  I was a little embarrassed at what they might think, but it seemed that they just smiled.  We heard that their outing had been successful, identifying where the ten and five kilometer marks before the finish line of the race would probably be.  Someone suggested that we watch the race on TV to see how the last hour or so of the race that day would be reported.

We joined others in the bar, who were more serious fans of the bike race, where there was a large TV screen.  A couple of others from our group were there for the same reason, which led to more discussion of our plan and interest by people who hadn't heard about it.  We discovered that well ahead of the leading cyclists there was a parade of advertising vehicles to entertain the fans waiting along the route.  Someone said that it was only shown when nothing interesting was happening in the race, but that suggested the our flash mob could get coverage by the TV crew waiting at the ten km mark.  

The real fans got more excited as the race neared its end for the day, hoping their favorite would win.  We watched the awarding of the yellow jersey.  We understood that he had the best overall time, although he didn't finish first.  Someone tried to explain to us what the other jerseys were for, but we didn't really understand.  Most of us ordered another drink, and I got three for us, returning to find Marge and Anna speaking German.

There were few Germans at the resort, so I assumed that they could say things they might not have mentioned in English.  They immediately reverted to English, Marge saying that it was nice that she could practice her German again.  Anna immediately said that it was very good. We had moved away from the others in our group, and raised our glasses with smiles and nods and drank.  Marge remarked:  
“I guess you knew more about what Anna did last year than I did.”
“Well, maybe, sounded good.”

Anna nodded with a smile, but looked slightly embarrassed, glancing around to see if anyone near us was speaking English.  What Marge had said was harmless, but Anna's nipples had popped out, relaxed again, when she looked at us and nodded, more looking at Marge.  We all had a sip and were silent for a moment.  When they still didn't say anything, I remarked:  
“You girls probably want to freshened up before dinner, even if you don't have to dress for dinner.”

They exchanged slight smirks.  Did all four nipples pop out?  Anna's did.  I would have had to turn my head to look down at Marge's, but she replied:  
“That's a good idea; I need a shower.”

Anna nodded with a smile at me, apparently appreciating my suggestion.  As she started to raise her glass, I said:  
“You can take your drinks with you.”

Marge snorted and also gave me a smile, nodding with a wink.  As they started to leave, I was tempted to pat Marge's bottom, but didn't.  That might have been acceptable at the nude bar at Cap d'Agde, but didn't seem so here.

While I was complimenting myself for helping them get away together, since they both so immediately responded, a French couple turned to me, smiling and asking in English:  
“Your wife and daughter?”
“No; she's too young to be her mother, and she's is not my daughter, just as well so.”
“Oh.”

The couple turned away from me, apparently slightly embarrassed that their attempt to start a conversation had gone awry.  I made it easier for them by rejoining others from our group, suddenly recognizing, however, that people could be curious about us three, in their case, tactfully assuming that we were a family.  What were they now thinking?

The people I joined had all been at Cap d'Agde, so they didn't have to ask, whatever they might be thinking, while we talked about the resort and our plan.  Dinner was later than it would have been in America, so it was a good hour and another drink before the group broke up, most of them, like me, probably needing to go to the bathroom.  

As I went to our place, I wondered if  - no, hoped that -  Anna and Marge had enjoyed each other's company.  Speaking German again?  No; they couldn't say much if they had been doing what I expected.  But they were, when I knocked at the door, finishing their sentences before they greeted me in English, both grinning as they came from the bathroom together.
“Thanks for helping us get away,” Marge remarked.  Anna nodded, adding:  
“We wanted to, just felt funny about suggesting it ourselves.”
“I had hoped so,” I agreed, adding that I had to go.

They smirked with nods, and I went in the bathroom, letting them hear my strong stream splash in the toilet.  As we went to the restaurant, I told them about the French couple.  They snickered and replied that it was fun to let people think whatever they wanted.  “Menage à trois,” one of them murmured.  When they both took my hand, I wasn't sure that was necessary to make sure people thought the right thing, but I clasped their hands, not just a little pleased at the thought that people could be thinking that I  - getting on to sixty! -  could be the male in a threesome with two younger women, attractive younger women.  Even Marge was young enough to be my daughter.  I sucked in my stomach for a the next couple of steps  - till I forgot.

In the restaurant, as we sat down at a table for four, it occurred to me that people might surmise  - correctly -  that we were closer than just sharing accommodations, that it might have been better to join others from our group.  Too late:  if they wanted to think so.  We were a menage à trois, although we hadn't yet done anything as a threesome.  Had we last year, just the three of us?  

Before I could start trying to remember, Sans-culotte approached our table and asked he could join us.  He was taller than me and in better shape  - no stomach bulge -  and looked a couple of years older.  After we first met him, Marge had said that he was good looking, maybe from a family with a “de” preceding its name.

We all greeted him and invited him to sit down.  I was pleased that he lessened the appearance that we were wanting to be by ourselves.  Marge's and Anna's smiles suggested that they appreciated his company.  He sat down and turned to Anna, remarking:  
“Ah, Anna, nice that you can join us again this year.”

Before she could say anything, her nipples popped out.  She smiled, looking a little self-conscious, and replied:  
“Nice that you remembered my name.  Yes, and nice to see you again; even nicer, that they invited me to join them, join you all.”

We all nodded with smiles.  During our meal, we had a very pleasant conversation.  When Marge asked about his friend Stephan, he said that he had come alone this year, explaining:  
“I felt a little obligated to join you, after having been involved in the planning, also for the flash mob.  Oh, I am enjoying myself, as I always do on this kind of a vacation.  It's not so much Stephan's thing, although he obviously enjoyed himself last year.”

We nodded with slight smirks, probably all remembering the Bastille Day party in their suite.  When we then talked about the flash mob, he reminded us that his position in a ministry precluded his participation, but that he would be along to hold everyone's identification in case the police didn't like the event.  Then he told us that the resort had agreed to his calling a meeting for everyone to tell about the project.  We finished our meal, parting with remarks about looking forward to seeing each other again.

After we left the restaurant, Anna remarked:  
“He's nice.  Last year, I don't know if I ever really spoke to him.  I must have, since he remembered my name.”
“He is,” Marge agreed, adding:  
“Maybe seems  - seemed -  a little more reserved than this evening, maybe from a family with, in German, a “von.”
“You think so?  Yes, like that, like a 'Graf' I once met.  What's that in English?”
“A 'count',” Marge suggested.
“You think he could be a count?”
“I'm not going to ask him.”

I chuckled and remarked:  
“Kind of contradictory:  a count hiding behind the user name 'Sans-culotte', an expression for the left wing commoners during the French Revolution.”
“Best place to hide,” Marge replied with smirk, adding:  
“if one can hide anything without pants.”

Apparently, we all understood the meaning of the French expression, snickering.  We agreed to attend whatever the nightly entertainment would be.  

What it was is unimportant here, besides, I have forgotten what it was that night.  Sitting together in dark, as it cooled off, we moved closer.  When I saw couples put their arms around each other, I put mine around Marge and Anna, accepting that the people next to us and behind us would notice.  That also didn't seem to disturb Anna and Marge, who leaned closer, then with their hands on my thighs.  I tried not to let that disturb me  - part of me. 

Maybe the few couples I noticed leaving before the program ended recognized the same problem.  When it did end, maybe that is why only minimal lighting came on to allow us to find our way out of the seating area.  We left it, again with my arms around Marge and Anna, when there was space for us to walk three abreast.  That was the appropriate word; in the dark, with only ground-level lights on the paths, both of them reached up and pulled my hands down on their breasts, their arms sliding around my waist.  I held them, and we exchanged hums, but that wasn't going to make it easier for me to use the toilet.

In our room, they both snorted with smirks when they saw my problem.  I let them go first, but still chose to use the washbasin, rather than having to lean down to aim at the toilet.  We didn't wait to wash, returning to the room.  They hadn't remade the double bed.  We glanced from one to the other, smiling slightly, questioningly, tilting our heads from one side to the other, from one to the other of us, each of us suggesting that one of the others should suggest what we do.  Marge snorted softly and remarked with a glance at Anna:  
“We just did.”
“We did, too,” Anna replied, glancing at me.

I nodded with a better smile.  Anna grinned and remarked:  
“That leaves you two.  I am just your guest.”
“Not just,” Marge replied, and I nodded.

We all snorted at our predicament, smirking slightly.  It seemed like my turn to say something.  I looked at Anna and remarked:  
“If you think we should, but what about you?”

Marge nodded with a slight smirk as she glance at me and then at her.  Then she snorted and said:  
“Just turn off the light and lie down and see what happens.”

We all chuckled, and I did.  It had already occurred to me that there were three ways we could all be involved  - with variations of who did what.  In the light through the window, I saw Anna gesture that Marge should lie down.  She did with a chuckle, chuckling again as she clambered over me, dragging her breasts across my chest, before she settled down, half on me, her thigh between mine.    Her hand found my now soft cock, but still a handful.  She squeezed it and murmured:  
“Want to fuck?”
“In principle, if it's as not so obvious as before.”
“Hmm!  Just to please Anna.”

Anna dropped down beside me, almost giggling, and replied:  
“I want you to, hope you really want to  - 'just to please me'.”

We all chuckled.  Anna's fingers had slipped around my balls, fondling them.  Marge asked:  
“And you?”
“I just want to help, sort of as a ...” she searched for the expression:  “as a guest's present.”

Marge snorted and remarked:  
“Just this one time.  How?”

I already had an idea, and Anna confirmed it:  
“Lie on him; I want to lick you both.”

Marge began to move over me.  I let Anna correct her:  
“No, on your back,” explaining  - as I expected:  “Like that night with Petra, when you were with the guys.”  
“On my back?  Is that what you did?” Marge asked, but without waiting for an answer, she turned over, just snorting, as she settled on me.  

Funny, that the weight of a woman lying on one doesn't seem heavy that way, not in anticipation of what I knew was going to happen.  Marge snorted again as my hands gripped the cheeks of her ass, separating them.  Had I done that last year, I wondered, when Petra and then Anna and were lying on me?   Or had it been first Anna and then in the morning Petra?  

Marge understood what was going to happen, drawing up her thighs.  I saw that Anna was about to get between our legs, but then she stopped and said:  
“Can you move around?  Edge of the bed; I want to suck your balls.”

Marge and I both snorted at her remark, but obliged.  We moved, Marge rolling off me and then getting back on me, my hands again spreading the cheeks of her ass.  Anna had dropped to her knees between our legs.

Although I was also looking forward to what Anna wanted to do, my cock had sort of forgotten after all our preparation.  Anna seemed to like that, however, chuckling with a hum as she raised it up, holding against Marge's pussy lips, and then her tongue was licking up it, apparently enjoying licking where it felt most sensitive, but it didn't yet, but then soon did.  She probably didn't need to hear my pleased moan as my cock became more aroused.  Marge also felt that it was, chuckling with a nod.  Then Anna's tongue was pressing the head of my not yet stiff cock between Marge's inner lips.  Her tongue lapped quickly up to Marge's clitoris and then back down on that spot behind the head of my cock, and again and again.  

We both moaned in appreciation.  Anna had to use her fingers to hold my cock against Marge's pussy so that she could continue to arouse us both that way with her tongue.  Then she gave up on that and sucked my cock in her mouth, but just for a few moments; Marge chuckled and then demanded, rocking her hips up:  
“Put it in.”

Anna did.  Marge rocked her hips back down, and we both moaned in response to the sensations of feeling my cock in her pussy.  Her muschi, I remembered that she liked to call it.   Anna's tongue licked up the back of my cock and then was on Marge.  She gave a more emphatic moan, rocking her pelvis slightly.  

I couldn't know how it felt for her to have her clitoris licked and nibbled, but it had to be as good as what Anna did when she sucked my cock.  My hands found Marge's breasts, and hers encouraged them to arouse her nipples.  Then Anna remembered that she wanted to suck my balls and did, my sack still loose.  

It sure is nice being older and not so quickly aroused as a teenager, young twenty year-old; I hadn't done anything as a teenager.  And if a girl had sucked one of my balls back then, I probably would have had an orgasm even if my cock hadn't been in a pussy  - not that I could have imagined that possibility:  my cock in a pussy while another girl was sucking and humming with my ball in her mouth.  My cock twitched, and Marge's hips twitched, and she demanded:  “Me too!”




Bastille Day Ch. 07



Anna let my ball slip from between her lips and returned to arousing Marge.  After a while, she tried to suck my other ball, but could only lick my puckered sack.  When her mouth returned to Marge's clitoris, Marge's hands left mine and found Anna's head.  

I already knew how good it was to feel a pussy squeeze my cock in response someone else licking it, but that had been a year ago  - no, six months ago.   After Christmas, with Liz and her brother, we had all done it, but it was being better than I remembered.  

For Marge too?  She was trying to hold still.  Her feet slipped around my calves, her legs tense against mine, trying to control the twitches of her hips, as her moans became more aroused, and her muschi clutched my cock, my surging cock.  

Oh, it was going to be good!  I felt her hands clasp Anna's head tighter to her muschi, as her moans began to pulse with the uncontrollable twitches of her pelvis.  My hips began to rock up.  I hoped that I wouldn't come before she did.

It doesn't matter which of us started to come first; we both were, my cock spurting and her love juice flooding hot on my cock, being lapped up by Anna.  I wished I could taste it.  Marge's body was still convulsing.  

It stilled, as she gasped and sighed with moans, both of us sighing with moans.  The tension left her body, and I was aware of her weight on me.  I heard Anna give a satisfied hum, apparently pleased with her success.  I felt Marge's arms move a little and assumed that she was fondling Anna's hair in agreement. 

But then Marge's hips twitched, and she exclaimed softly:  
“Not again!”  

I heard moist noises from Anna's tongue and felt it lick up the back of my cock, but only once.  Marge exclaimed: “Oh, shit!” and I felt her muschi contract on my softening cock.  

“Uhn-hnn!”  Anna confirmed that it was going to be “again.”  Marge's body tensed, her feet pressing against my calves, and I felt her shoulders move like they had before, when she had clutched Anna's face to her pussy.  Her “not again” had just been a surprised response; she was accepting that Anna wanted to give her another orgasm, had to!  Her pussy was already clutching again, as her pelvis twitched.  My cock came back to life, but it was obvious that she was already about to be overcome by another orgasm.  I clutched her chest to me and pinched and twisted her nipples.

It must have been good!  It was almost frighteningly good for me to experience; her body convulsing again, as though it were trying to escape my grasp and that of her feet behind my calves, while she tried to suppress too loud whimpering moans and laughs.  I thought she could have muffled them with her hands, but she was still clutching Anna's face to her twitching pelvis, despite her pained noises, apparently still wanting more.  Finally, she cried out:  
“Oh God!  Enough!”  

 I felt her arms move and her shoulders shoved down, pushing Anna's head from her pussy.  Her body convulsed again, and her pussy clutched my cock again.  It twitched, but couldn't do more.  Then all the tension left her, except for her heaving stomach as she gasped and moaned.  

I heard Anna hum again, a chuckling hum, and felt her fingers jostle my balls.  Despite the arousal of my cock in Marge's pussy, my sack was still slack, but I wasn't disappointed.  Marge sighed a couple of times more, and then I felt Anna's fingers pull my cock out of her.  They both chuckled.   Then my cock was in Anna's mouth!  “Oooh!”  She sucked and licked, but then she raised her head and let it drop, murmuring:  
“Oh, that too,” and I heard her slurp.  Marge chuckled.  Of course, her pussy was leaking!  

However raunchy that looked, I wasn't surprised that Anna wanted to taste it; she loved to have me come in her mouth, and so did Marge, and I liked to kiss them when they had.  She deserved to taste it after giving us both such good orgasms.

Marge raised her head and looked down her body, remarking:  
“If you want it, you deserve it after that, but you deserve something else now.”

Anna had stopped slurping and snickered.  I envisaged her grinning, maybe licking her lips.  Marge's feet pressed against my calves to help her sit up  - heavy, all her weight on my hips.  As she leaned forward and got her feet on the floor, she said something in German.  I only understood the word “Muschi.”  Anna replied in German, sounding like she was agreeing.  Marge rose off me.

I raised my head and shoulders, just seeing Marge and Anna's head as silhouettes from the light through the window, but it must have shown my face.  Anna hummed  - I envisaged her grinning again -  and explained:  
“She wants to do it to me.”
“Good idea, but not with my help, not like that again.”
“You just have to hold her,” Marge said, adding:  “Move back, so she can sit between your legs.”  

I did, sitting up, and Anna did, and Marge dropped down between our legs.  With a chuckle, I reached under Anna's arms and overlapped my wrists, grasping her breasts.  She chuckled with a nod, turning her head and offering an ear for me to nuzzle.  Had Marge told her why I had to hold her, I wondered.  It was obvious what she was going to do, but so that I had to hold  - restrain -  Anna?

Marge's mouth found Anna's muschi, eliciting the expected, delighted noises in response.  They became more aroused, and my fingers and thumbs did what they could to help.  Anna leaned back against me.  Did she want to make her muschi more accessible to Marge, maybe also her asshole?  I drew her back on me, lying on the bed.  She agreed with a vigorous nod and “um-hmm!”

That was good for me too, for my cock, that had become aroused again from listening to what was happening  - rather, of course, from my knowing what was happening.  It enjoyed having space to extend.  Would Marge notice and change her mind about my just having to hold Anna?  

She didn't, and I couldn't tell if she did anything with Anna's asshole, but a different slippery noise and Anna's gasp and aroused moan suggested that Marge's fingers had slipped into her muschi.  Definitely!  That rhythmic wet sound couldn't be from licking!  

It continued, and I knew why Marge had said that I had hold Anna; her hips were twitching up and down, as she drew her legs up and grasped her thighs and gasped and moaned, whimpering moans.  I held her fast to let her hips move as much as they wanted to  - had to from what Marge was doing.  It occurred to me that her fingers knew more about the G-spot than my cock could.

That was a little consolation when Anna's orgasm reached its climax, but maybe it only seemed better than the ones we had had together because I wasn't distracted by my own.  The wet noise stopped, but her body convulsed again.  Then she let her thighs flop down, still sighing with long moans.  

“That was for you,” Marge murmured.  Anna just nodded.

Her remark suddenly suggested to me that she might be suggesting another orgasm:  “for me,” or “for him,”  or for us both, even a third one!?  Anna had given her two orgasms.  Did that also occur to her?  

Anna gave a slightly questioning hum, and then her hand quickly moved down between her thighs.  I felt her body jolt slightly on mine, as though something had pushed it up a little.  She grunted softly and then nodded with an “um-hmm!”  Her body moved again, and I realized that I hadn't noticed before that it had moved like that.  

No wonder some brothels had mirrors on the ceiling, not that I had ever been in one.  But the movement of Anna's arm suggested that she must be grasping Marge's hand and encouraging it to arouse her again.  Again!  Recalling her desperate sounding noises before, I suddenly found the expression:  “a passion for pain.”  Was wanting multiple orgasms masochistic?   

But she wanted it, and got it, like Marge's second one, very soon, her arm jerking until it finally stiffened, and she cried out:  “Gott!  Genug!”  [Hope I spelled that correctly.  Sounded like she meant “enough.”]

Her body convulsed again, but stopped jerking on mine.  She started to recover again.  I was thinking that it was very interesting to experience a woman's orgasms without being involved.  [My original choice of words was:  “without being plugged in.”]  

After a few moments, Marge murmured:  
“That was for him.”

Anna nodded, still sighing.  Then Marge murmured:  
“And now for me, thank you.”

Anna's body jolted again, and she grunted.  I felt her arm stiffen again, but her shoulder moved.  
“Nine!” she complained.  [I found later that “no” in German is spelled “nein.”]  Marge didn't relent,  

Are women sadistic when they have sex together?  Or do they just know that they really want more  - more times -  than men can give them?  

Anna's shoulder stilled, her arms relaxed.  Or was her hand again encouraging Marge's fingers on her G-spot?  They must have been; for a third time I had to restrain her almost violent convulsions, clasping one hand over her mouth to keep from waking the neighbors.

Anna rolled off me, curling up in a ball, fetal position, still moaning, like a small child.  Marge discovered my aroused cock, and it disappeared between her lips.  I didn't come as quickly as Anna had the last two times, but almost, and better  - more -  than I expected.

Marge hummed and rose up and crawled up over me, giving me a kiss and good taste of what I had given her.  We both chuckled comfortably and reached out and rubbed Anna.  She rolled back towards us, extending her legs and murmuring:  
“That was unfair.  At least you two did it again.”
“Marge did, thank you,” I replied.
“Didn't seem like you really minded, and I wanted to,” Marge remarked, adding:  
“Besides it looked so frustrated; couldn't let it stay that way.”  

We all chuckled.  Marge reached over me and fondled one of Anna's breasts.  We all moved around on the bed, and they both rolled closer with a thigh over mine and my arms under their heads, and we fell asleep.  One of them must have pulled the light covers up over us when we changed positions later in the night.

When I woke up in the early morning, my arm comfortably around one of them, I did have an erection, but only because I needed to go, and had to disturb them as I got up.  When I returned from the bathroom, I was a little surprised to find that they had rolled together.  When I raised the covers, they rolled apart and complained that they also had to go and got up.  

Back in bed together, the two of them together, since I had moved over, we all chuckled, agreeing that we couldn't  - shouldn't -  try to do that again.  I was surprised when Anna then said something about it being a pity that Sans-culotte didn't have a female companion.  Marge seemed to have understood her remark better than I did, asking with a snort:  
“You want to help him?”

There was a short pause before Anna replied:  
“Wouldn't you?  I guess I was thinking of that.”
“Why not?” I responded, adding:  Marge also thinks he is nice.”
“But I wasn't thinking about that.”
“Why not?  Either of you?  Hm-hm-hmm!  If we don't want to do that again?”
“You want us to?” Marge asked.
“Hmm!  That didn't sound like you objected to the idea.”
“Hmm?  Maybe not.”
“I would,” Anna replied after a moment, adding:  
“If you both didn't mind; I'm your guest.”
“But not with any obligations,” Marge replied.
“If you want to,” I agreed:  “ … but I'm not going to tell him.”

We all chuckled.  I snorted and added:  
“Maybe just that you both think he needs a companion.”

They chuckled again, but it sounded like they understood my implication that I had no problem with thought of one of them sleeping with him.  I didn't, but mostly out of curiosity if it could happen,  There was another brief pause, then Anna asked Marge:  
“Have you ever slept with a French man?”
“No.  You think they're different?”
“Hmm?  Probably not, just  - you know -  Latin lovers.”
“Sounds more like Italians or Spaniards.”
“I guess so.”
“Before you ask, not one of them either.”

I had to chuckle at their conversation, and again, when Marge added:  
“Oh, once  - no, twice -  with a guy in college with an Italian name, but he wasn't any better than the others, just macho talk.”

Anna and I both snickered.  I suggested:  
“Couldn't expect his “papà” to tell him how to be one in bed.”

Anna and Marge chuckled.  Then she replied:  
“And the macho talk wasn't that good either  - with hindsight.  Hm-hmm!  I expect Sans-culotte's bite would be better than his bark.”

We all chuckled and then decided to get up, agreeing that we needed showers.  When they both looked at me, I avoided the question of which one might take hers with me, remarking:  
“I'll watch you two first.”

They glanced at each, snorting with nods and slight smirks, and preceded me to the bathroom.  I sat on the toilet and offered to mop up the floor.  It was obvious that they enjoyed washing each other,  their glances including me in their fun.  When one more than washed the other's breasts and then her pussy, that one would grin at me with a hum, maybe more for my entertainment than because it was really arousing.  I fondled my soft cock and slack balls to show my appreciation.  I handed them their towels and watched them make a show of drying themselves, grinning as they fondled their own breasts  - not always using their towels.

I started my shower, closing the curtain, but one of them pulled it back, so I tried to make washing my cock and balls more interesting.  Marge chuckled and remarked:  
“It likes it better when I do it.”
“When I did, too,”  Anna agreed with a grin.
“Of course.  It doesn't like an audience when I try to do it that good.” 

We all snickered.  I pulled the curtain back across.  They both laughed and both said:  “Don't!”

I didn't, of course, finishing my shower and shaving.  They had mopped up the floor and left the bathroom when I opened the curtain again.  When I joined them, for a moment I was surprised that they were still naked, not putting on something to go to breakfast like the previous summer.

Anna was rubbing the fuzz on her pussy and remarking that she would have to shave again.  Marge replied that she had waxed before the trip.  When they glanced at me with slightly wry smiles, it occurred to me that despite what they had both done the night before, taking a shower together  somehow had led to a different level of intimacy.  I grinned and remarked:  
“I am not going to, either way, no matter how many shaven mens you look at.”  
“They look too self-consciously naked,” Marge replied.  Anna nodded, remarking:  
“Maybe when only a few women did, they looked like that too, but now the few with hair seem the odd ones.”

I nodded and said:  
“Besides, artists and sculptors have always liked to show women without, but the men, always with.  You both look like artists' models.”
“Not so sure about that,” Marge replied, feigning a scowl.
“You do; stop fishing for compliments.”

At breakfast, we chose to sit with others from our group.  They were polite enough not to say anything about the three of us, just greeting Anna and saying that they remembered her and that it was nice to see her again.  Then we talked about our project.  One of them had watched the race on TV the previous afternoon and described that 10 km before the finish there was an inflated arch over the road and TV cameras covering the scene, apparently some waiting there, not just the ones traveling with the racers.  We all agreed that that sounded hopeful for coverage of our flash mob.

We spent the rest of the morning with them and others from our group.  Anna thought to separate herself from us to avoid possible questions about our menage à trois.  From a distance, I watched her politely fend off the interest of a couple of young men, feeling flattered that they found her attractive and that she had.  Marge remarked:  “Of course, she did,” but we agreed to tell her that she could do whatever she wanted.  

When she rejoined us at lunch, I said something about its being nice that she had met other younger people.  She grinned and replied:  
“They spoke French, and I pretended that I didn't understand them  - mostly true.  That discouraged the first one, but the next one could also speak English; had to tell him that I was already with someone.  Hm-hmm!  If he sees us here, he will probably be surprised.”
“With Daddy and his girlfriend,” Marge suggested with a smirk.

We all glanced at each other in response to her remark.  Anna nodded with a smile and replied:
“Maybe next time, if someone asks.  Kind of fun teasing them.”

I returned her smile and then replied in a more serious tone:  
“You don't have to just tease them, if you don't want to.”

She gave me a surprised look, seeing Marge nod in agreement to what I had said.  Her lips moved, a wry expression  - not a smile -  as she hesitated a moment, then replying:  
“I told him I would be with you.  Hmm!  Didn't mention you.”  She glanced at Marge, continuing:  
“And like I wrote that time after he and I first did, it would be different with them  - one of them.”

I nodded, remembering her delightful email about the first time with her father.  
[Posted on Literotica last year:  “He wanted to see more of me.”]  

Marge nodded and replied:  
“That's nice; we just wanted to tell you that.”

Anna nodded with a sweet smile, then snorted and whispered:  
“I'd be more tempted to with Sans-culotte.”

Marge grinned with a nod, and after a glance at me, replied softly:  
“I would be, too.”
“Help yourselves,” I remarked, grinning, adding:  “I'm all in favor of younger women preferring older men  - as long as I am included.”
“You are!” Anna replied immediately, Marge nodding with a grin.

We all chuckled and returned to eating.  After lunch, we lay in the sun, the two of them together,  and I on the other side of Marge, to avoid too much speculation about our threesome.  At first, we lay on our backs with full stomachs, almost dozing.  I was, at least, but maybe they weren't, perhaps more aware of  passers-by.  As I had observed on previous days, single men did discretely wander about.  Maybe single women also did, but I hadn't noticed them, and they couldn't have been interested in me, especially not in my company.  

When Marge and Anna turned over, I also did, enjoying a glance at their round asses.  I dozed off again.  I was stirred by Anna's remarking softly:  
“I think I've had enough sun for a while, before my bottom gets burned.”

I raised my head and saw that she had propped herself up on her elbows.  When I did the same, she smiled, seeing me look down her body at her round bottom.  The line from her bikini was still obvious, but it didn't look like the rest of it was in danger of getting a sunburn.  Marge only raised her head, still turned to Anna, to remark:  
“Maybe a good idea.  I'll be fine.”

My glance confirmed that her better tanned ass could take a lot more sun.  Anna got up and left with her towel, and I settled back down.  Marge turned her face to me, smiling slightly.  I smiled back, and we lay there for a brief while.  My eyes had closed again, when she murmured:  
“Maybe you should worry about your 'bottom' too.”

She was right; it was about as pale as Anna's, all of it, since I certainly had not been wearing the kind of brief shorts some men in Europe wore.  

“Maybe you're right,” I agreed, opening my eyes.  Only when I saw her smirking at me, did it occur to me that she could be suggesting that Anna wanted company.  Had the two of them smirked at each other before Anna spoke, or after she did?  

“I think so,” Marge replied  - just to what I had said, or also to what her smirk had suggested to me?

“If you say so,” I agreed and began to get up.  When I started to pick up my towel, she said:  
“I'll be alright, but leave your towel; makes it look like I'm not alone.”




Bastille Day Ch. 07



I nodded and spread my towel out again.  We exchanged smiles, and I left her, wondering if I had interpreted her smirk correctly; if Anna would be expecting me to join her; also wondering about Marge's apparently suggesting  - agreeing -  that we two should be alone together.  But she also had been with her the first afternoon.  It was all about not too much one-on-one  - maybe too much threesome.   We sure had done that the night before!  Did she think  - know? -  that Anna still wanted something after she had given her three intensive G-spot orgasms?  I had conceded that my cock couldn't do that, not that all Anna's orgasms with me hadn't seemed completely satisfying for her.  

With these thoughts, I walked the rest of the way to our place.  Maybe she wouldn't be there, just gone off somewhere in the shade.  Hmm?  Maybe to where she could be with younger men; we had told her that we wouldn't mind if she did.  But I did!  No, she had said that she had told one of them that she was with us, and she could understood that that would complicate things.  Okay, if she wanted to do something with Sans-culotte, also if Marge did.  Would she be in our place, and expecting me?

I suddenly felt a little like I remembered feeling when I went to pick up a date as a teenager, not the first or second date, but the one that could end with more than just holding hands.  Crazy “old man,” suddenly recalling that feeling after so many years  - decades!  You know, if she is there, she will be pleased to see you, even if she hasn't been expecting you.   Shit!  She always has been pleased, more than you first knew last year, and she's wanted to sleep with you every way two people can  - hmm! -  every way three and more people can!  And Marge invited her to join us, knowing that we both  - well, she too, all three of us -   wanted to have another erotic vacation together.  I still felt a teenager's uncertain butterflies in my stomach  - damn, now with space for too many of them!  

I pulled it in as I opened the door saying:  
“Marge said I should also get my bottom out of the sun.”
“Oh, that's good.  I'm in the shower.  You can still wash my back.”

My stomach had relaxed, but there were still a couple of butterflies fluttering; nice, pleased ones.  I replied:  
“Of course.  I want one too.”

When I entered the bathroom, the shower curtain was drawn back, and a shapely, wet, young woman was smiling at me.  Funny, how one sometimes suddenly sees something familiar with new eyes  - and very pleasant when it is the renewed recognition of how attractive a young woman is, despite one's having been so completely familiar with every part of her body.  
“That's good too,” Anna agreed with an impish smile, adding:  
“And Marge suggested it?  I was about to say something like that, but thought it impolite to suggest it, that it could be misunderstood.”

I was already in the shower with her, closing the curtain, replying:  
“Tactful of you, but I guess you were both right.”
“Um-hmm, but if she suggested it …?”
“I was wondering if you had maybe smirked at her, when you did, like she did to me.”
“Hm-hmm!  I don't think so, but it doesn't matter now.”

We smiled, and I started to wash her back.  I rather doubted that she hadn't already, but that didn't matter, and we both knew that I would finish by washing her asshole, chuckling together when I did.  I thought that she would offer to wash me  - my cock was already anticipating a little that she would.  But she didn't, remarking:  
“I want to shave, and I can do that better sitting on the toilet.”
“I guess so.  Want me to, too?”

She rubbed my cheek  - with another impish smile -  and shook her head, replying:  
“If you want to, … but I don't want to do that.”

We both snickered at her so obvious implication that she wanted to do something else, confirming unnecessarily that we would.  She slipped past the curtain, and I began to wash myself.  My cock still thought that was nice.  I was curious to see how she shaved her muschi, but didn't, thinking that  she might not want someone to watch that kind of female hygiene.  When I pulled aside the curtain, she was finished, smiling at me as her fingers slid up and down on the closed lips of her muschi.

“I thought you might want to watch.”
“I thought that maybe you wouldn't want me to.”
“He has, but I guess only after I told him I didn't mind.
“Of course, I was also curious.”
“He was too.  Oh, it didn't have to happen; I could have shaved before I visited him, but forgot once, two weeks growth.”

We both chuckled at this revelation about her visits to her father.  She put aside her razor as I finished drying myself, and we left the bathroom.  She flung back the covers on the single bed and gestured for me to lie down, murmuring:  
“You know what I want to do.”  

I nodded, lying down, suddenly recalling that we hadn't fucked the previous nights, that we hadn't fucked together since last year.  I spread my legs as she started to get on the bed between them.  She looked down at my slightly engorged cock with a smile, and then up at me, then back down, as her fingers raised it up.  “Mmmm!” I hummed as her lips slipped around it, all the way down around it.  Her fingers slid down and held my balls.  

Very soon, she had to let an inch of him slip out, and then another inch, but humming at her success, as her fingers massaged my balls.  Lucky father, I thought, being able to enjoy this every two weeks; lucky me, that he had accepted that she wanted to let me enjoy this, too!  Her hum almost sounded like she was agreeing with me; for sure, she was also enjoying it.  She chuckled in her throat.  I raised my head, seeing her other arm move, letting her other hand find her muschi.  Of course, she wanted to arouse herself, wanted her muschi to be moist and ready to fuck, whenever she thought that my cock wanted to  - knew that it did!  

It twitched; it did!  She hummed with a nod, but let it twitch a couple of times more.  I assumed, because her muschi wasn't yet aroused enough.  But then she gave a deeper, longer hum and raised her head, hardly smiling at me, as she began to move her legs up past mine.  Resting on one hand, she reached back and guided it to her opening.  

“Mmmm!” we both moaned as it slipped easily into her moist, tight muschi, her hand disappearing as her hips sank down on mine.  It surged, and her muschi squeezed it.  She dropped down on me, and I embraced her.  When my cock twitched again, it was squeezed again.  She nodded, but murmured:  
“Hold still, just wait.”
“Um-hmm,” I nodded, and we let our arousal subside.

Anything she wanted; anyway she wanted, I thought, respecting that she had had more experience than I had had since we had last fucked, remembering then that she didn't like to use that word.  Her muschi squeezed again, but my cock didn't twitch.  

“Um-hmm,” she hummed softly, as though she were pleased that it hadn't.   Then she murmured:  
“I want to do it like he likes.”
“I will too,” I replied, as it occurred to me that the squeeze of her muschi had not been a reflex, that she had done it intentionally; I knew she could.  

If she wanted to do it with me like she did with her father, I had no problem with that; it would be good.  And her telling me …, well, she didn't need a surrogate father figure, since she did it with him, and sharing it with me was the nicest thing she could do  - sort of a compliment.

“Um-hmm,” she responded, but I wanted think that she had read my thoughts and was agreeing.

She sat up.  My cock twitched as it slipped deeper in her muschi.  She smiled with anozher “um-hmm,” without her muschi tightening.  It couldn't have been deeper in her, her hips resting on mine.  She smiled again and murmured:  
“He just loves this.”
“I do too.”
“I'd hoped so.”

We both smiled.  Her muschi squeezed me again, and I made my cock twitch.  She nodded:  
“Like that, just not to forget where it is.  I love it too, yours too.  It just feels so good in me.

Her muschi tightened again.  She grinned and said:  
“My doctor, woman doctor, says it's good to do that.  Hm-hmm!  She didn't say anything about having a man in me to do it.”
“Hmm!  I hope she knows herself that it's better with one.”
“Me too!  …  Probably; she could hardly be a virgin.”
“They're getting rare.”
“Lucky girls, now.  …  Oh, he asked when I stopped being one.”
“I hope he wasn't shocked.”
“Just a little, more that he and Mom hadn't ever met the guy.”
“I would have been too; lucky that I only have sons.”

While our conversation continued, Anna remembered to practice what her doctor recommended, making me respond, also rocking her hips a little:  to and fro, sideways, fucking in the mildest way, not letting my cock forget that it was.  When it twitched, we would both smile slightly, the one or other of us continuing to speak.  I had become accustomed to talking about sex and talking about what I enjoyed with Marge and Anna  - also Petra and Liz.  Hearing Anna talking about what she did with her father was something new.  If she wanted to share with me what he liked to do,  I was delighted to hear what she told, especially the way she kept reminding me what she liked to do with him.

“But he really didn't mind, I think,” she replied.
“I wouldn't have, if you had been my daughter  - like this.”
“Hmmm!  Lots of 'like this'.  Oh, the first time, he came like a teenager.  That was the second weekend.  He was embarrassed that he had, but that was good; he rolled us over and, … well, there's only one word for it, and I did, and he did again.”
“That's good.  …  You want me to do that?”
“No.  Oh, it was good, for both of us.  He was surprised and very pleased that he had again, and so was I.”
“Of course!”
“Um-hmm, but the best part of it was that he wanted to make it good for me.  Oh, it had been till then, but he had just let me do what I wanted  - not that way before.  Oh, he wanted to, like I wrote, but after that he didn't have a problem with showing that he did.”
“Taking more initiative?”
“That's what I meant.  I felt better about having started it all after that, both of us equally open about enjoying whatever we wanted to do.”
“This especially?”
“Sometimes.  I always do it to him first.  After that, he was just waiting for me to, knowing that I love to and how much I want to taste him.”
“And wants to kiss you?”
“Like you do!  Of course!  And to know that what we then do, it will take longer.”
“For you both.”
“Or sometimes twice for me then, but he loves that it's that good for me.”
“Of course.  And this way, after that first time?”
“Hmmm!  Every weekend.   Hm-hmm!  Once we did it for half an hour, maybe other times, but that time was Sunday morning, hearing the church bell on the half hour and then on the hour.”
“Oooh!  And then?”
“It wasn't really that good; too much accustomed to the sensations.”
“Don't want that to happen.”
“No.”
“That's good.  And his showing initiative?”
“You like this, my telling you about him while we do it?”
“Why not?  If you want to, both ways.”
“Guess I do.  …  Yes, I do, and like that you do, too.”
“Kind of funny, I was thinking before, but I do.”

Anna smiled down at me very sweetly and replied:  
“Really kind of funny, but I like telling you, wanting to tell someone; it's so good … with him and with you.”
“And with you, … a lot better than I had hoped.”
“Um-hmm.”

We both smiled, and for a few moments she did more about making it also feel good.  When her moving hips and squeezing muschi had made my cock twitch a few times  - and more of our smiles -  she remembered my question and said:  
“His showing more initiative?   Oh, he did.  Once, when my period was on our weekend, the following Friday he drove down and surprised me.  Oooh!  We almost tore our clothes off in my room.  We had never been in such a hurry to do it, and then do it again.  He told me to pack a bag so that we could go to a hotel.  He couldn't stay in my room.  We drove to the next town, had no trouble checking into a hotel, and went to restaurant.  I said that we should speak English.  He has an accent, but I don't think I have much of one.”
“You don't.”
“Thanks.  I told him to order, pretending that I didn't speak German.  Then I began to tease him, well, make it more interesting, asking him in English if he had ever slept with an English girl, as though we had just met.”
“Hmm!  I hope you didn't tell him that you wanted to get something straight between you both.”
“Hm-hmm!  Wish I had, but that didn't occur to me, but I think something was.  Oh, it definitely was by the time we left the restaurant, and he had as much fun talking to me as though he were having to show around a niece, the daughter of his sister in England.  The story just evolved, really fun, especially that he so wittily participated.  We both agreed later that it been one of our most delightful experiences together.”
“Better than before, or whatever you then did?”
“Hmm!  Oh, we did, as though we hadn't twice before.  If the hotel thought we were father and daughter sleeping in separate beds, the maid knew better  - saved her remaking one bed.  But you are right; we agreed that the story was just as delightful  - in a different way, of course.”
“Of course, like it is delightful listening to you tell.  Oh, did you tell him  - like this -  all about last summer?”

I rocked my hips to emphasize how I meant “like this,” and for a while we did a little more to arouse each other, snorting with smirks in response to what we were feeling in her muschi.  When I felt that it was beginning to feel too good, I repeated my question:  
“Did you tell him.” 
“Oh, right, you asked before.  Yes, like this, eventually, after he asked, after he …, well, I guess, after he felt as comfortable as I did  - do -  with what we were doing.”
“Everything?”
“Almost, not all at once, of course.  I didn't tell what we did that day when we went down to the end of the beach, not that we did anything I hadn't told him.  Just didn't want him to think that things were quite that wild.  Didn't tell him about the Bastille Day party either.”
“Just as well.  Also about the night with you and me and Petra?”
“Oh, I left that out too, not wanting to explain where Marge was.”
“She would probably appreciate that.  Hmm?  Hm-hmm!  Sort of sounds like 'One thousand and One Nights'.”
“Oh, that is good, but I didn't leave him waiting for the next night to find out what happened.”
“I would hope not; rather let the climax  - climaxes -  of the incidents suggest something.”
“I never thought of that, but you're right; that is about what happened.”

I grinned up at her and rocked my hips again.  She grinned back and squeezed my cock, and we chuckled, both nodding slightly.  She reached back and fondled my balls, then smirked and asked:  
“Want me to make it happen?”
“Hm-hmm!  Of course, … but just like this?”
“Um-hmm, you just have to lie there.”
“I will, and you will, too?”
“Um-hmm, and he always does.”

Her muschi squeezed my cock again, and it twitched, and she massaged my balls and rocked her hips a little, smiling down at me.

“And you will too?” I asked again.
“Oh, I am sure I will.  You can play with my nipples, but nothing else.”
“Hmm?  Why haven't I been all along?”

I reached up and fondled her breasts.  She nodded, and her other hand slid down her freshly shaven muschi, her fingers brushing my pubic hair as they began to rub back and forth.  She smiled, continuing also to fondle my balls.  

Her hips were still, just her fingers moving, also on my balls, but in her muschi …!  Her gynecologist had been right that she should exercise the muscles of her vagina; I couldn't remember that it had squeezed my cock so strongly before, a year ago  - nor anyone else's.  And she had been practicing every couple of weeks with her father  - lucky man!  Lucky me, to profit from his willingness to enjoy such a mutually satisfying incestuous relationship.  And she knew that she could make me have an orgasm “like this.”  

If I had doubted it before, I didn't now, my cock slowly throbbing in her clutching vagina.  I squeezed and twisted her tight nipples.  She nodded, hardly looking at me.  Then her fingers left my balls; they could hardly move them in my tightened sack.  I was surprised to see her hand appear and that she put two fingers in her mouth, but when her hand with wet fingers disappeared behind her again, I understood what she wanted to do.  After a moment, she flinched slightly with a soft “uhn!”  Then she nodded slightly, and her eyes focused on me, as she remarked softly:  
“He didn't want me to use both hands the first time I started to  - hadn't before.”
“I don't mind; anything you want to do.”

She smiled with a nod, replying cheerfully:  
“Oh, he didn't mind after that.”

We chuckled, grinning at each other, but only for a moment.  When her fingers began to move again, the ones I could see, and also the other ones from the slight movement of her arm, her expression changed as she moaned softly, her eyes half closed, and then mine were too, returning her moans in response to the now even more arousing activity and sensations in her muschi.  

Can a vagina “milk” a cock?  Hers certainly could!  And I thought it could feel the movement of her finger deeper in her, knowing that it was been clutched when my cock was.  I tried to hold my hips still, wanting to let her do what she knew would be so good, hoping that she wanted it to be soon, very soon!  I was relieved when her hips began to jerk to and fro, as she moaned louder, uncontrolled, pulsing moans.  

Under the weight of her hips, mine could only twitch strongly, but my cock didn't need more than the jerking and rippling clutches of her muschi to give me an enormous orgasm, and hers seemed equally good, flooding me with her hot love juice, as she whimpered, and her body trembled.

Her vagina was still clutching, when her body stilled, her eyes closed, as she gasped and moaned.  I was about to say something, not sure what, when she dropped down on me and cried out softly:  
“Fick mich!”

There was only one thing her German words could mean.  I did, her hips jerking down to meet mine with almost splashing slaps.  Immediately, her vagina was clutching as vigorously as before.  My cock couldn't twitch or surge, but it couldn't wilt in the arousing grasp of her so aroused muschi.  My hand found where hers had been, and she nodded with an approving moan.  My cock didn't feel my finger plunging where hers had been  - too much movement from its pumping in and out.

She came again, sounding like she was trying to whimper and laugh at the same time, as she flooded me again.  I know that I came again, but it was sort of lost in my appreciation of her overwhelming orgasm.  When she collapsed on me, gasping and moaning, I was relieved that our exertion had given her what she had wanted, my stomach rising and falling under hers as I recovered from my effort.

Our stomachs rose and fell in different rhythms:  against each other, then out of phase:  mine up, as she exhaled, then out of phase for a couple of breaths until they pressed together again, less strongly as we recovered.  

Suddenly she raised her head and looked at me with a surprised expression.  Recalling her reverting to German in the heat of her arousal, I could imagine the reason for her expression.  She smiled wryly and murmured:  
“Good think I looked, before I said something in German.  God, that was good!  Thank you!”

She planted a good kiss on my mouth.  I nodded, returning her kiss, and then replied:  
“It sure was.  It must have been; you used German before.”
“Hmm!  I know; you can imagine why.  Oh, I said that, used that word!  Guess I do, when I really need to.  You can imagine why it's good that I didn't say what I was about to now.”
“Just a family joke?”




Bastille Day Ch. 07



“Hm-hmm!  Not quite, but something like that.”
“I'm glad that it was so good that you almost did.”
“It was, … if you don't mind?”
“It was for me, too, and wouldn't have been, if hadn't been that good for you.  …  Lucky man.”
“He thinks so too.  You too, I hope.”
“Very much.  I guess you can't tell him that I said that.”
“Hmm?  Maybe not.  …  Oh, once, back last autumn, he did say something about understanding that it probably wouldn't have happened if I had just been with Willy and Ron.  I agreed, liking that he recognized that.”
“Maybe sometime you can tell him that I know how lucky he is.”
“Maybe.  …  Hmmm, maybe when he wants to hear about all this, like I was telling you about him.”
“He won't complain at that moment.”
“For sure!  I'll try to remember to tell him.”

I drew her down for another kiss, and my cock slipped out.  She snorted and murmured:  
“The bed is going to be a mess; good thing we do this here.”
“Just to show that we all don't sleep in one bed.”

We chuckled, and she rolled off me.  We got comfortable, facing each other, thighs overlapping.  “Nap?” I suggested, and she agreed.  My eyes closed.  A moment or two later, she murmured:  
“I hope Marge really expected us to do this.”
“What else could she have expected to happen?  I think she did; she likes you, too, and ...”
“I do too,” Anna interrupted me, adding:  
“Next time you can tell us to go off together, or I will tell you two to.”
“Okay, and the next time she can tell us.”
“Hm-hmm!  Too much planning.”
“Quite, might have to count the days to see that it all worked out.”
“Um-hmm.  Thought only a German could think of that.  Besides, I'm your guest, shouldn't want to make any suggestions.”
“Why Marge made the right one.  Nap.”
“Hold me.”

She rolled away from me towards the wall.  I followed her, and we got comfortable with my hand cupped around her breast.

I dozed off with the pleasant thought that I was very lucky to enjoy with her anything and everything she did with her father.



Bastille Day Ch. 08



She rolled away from me towards the wall. I followed her, and we got comfortable with my hand cupped around her breast.

I dozed off with the pleasant thought that I was very lucky to enjoy with her anything and everything she did with her father. We were sleeping so soundly that we didn't hear Marge open the door, only awakened by her cheerful: 

"Wake up you sleepy heads. Hm-hmm! Lying like two toddlers taking a nap together."

We all chuckled, and Anna and I rolled back and looked at her. I think my expression could have been described as slightly sheepish. Marge grinned. I smiled wryly and remarked: 

"Just two innocent toddlers taking a nap."

"Now!" she replied, smirking.

"It was your idea," Anna replied: "and we didn't know anything better to do."

"I bet, and then you needed a good nap."

"Something like that," I agreed, chuckling and adding: 

"And she wanted to tell me all about her father."

Anna chuckled and tickled me under my ribs. As I squirmed and grasped her hand, she remarked: 

"It was easier to show him than it would have been to tell."

"Hmm! I suppose so, and ..., well, I guess he could appreciate that better than I could have."

"Oh, definitely! I suggested that she tell him that I think he is very lucky."

"Anyway, get up - I was about to say: 'and get dressed'. Just get up and wash. Sans-culotte is coming by with a bottle of wine in about half an hour."

Anna's eyes lit up, as she sat up and asked: 

"Really?"

"Really, and if you ask like that, you don't want him to find you in bed with another man."

Anna looked like she had been caught. I took the opportunity to tickle her in return, accelerating her moving off the bed, as she giggled and exclaimed: 

"Don't; you'll make me leak!"

We all snickered, and I followed her to the bathroom, suggesting a quick shower. We both "leaked," exchanging smirks, and then mostly just rinsing ourselves, rather than each other. When she said that it was good that she had shaved before, Marge and I snorted, and she said: 

"I'm sure he will think so."

Anna looked a little chagrined, but then smiled, nodding. As we started to dry ourselves, Marge joined us, saying the she should also shower, and did. Anna asked her: 

"How did that happen? Where did you see him?"

After you two left, I was lying on my back again. Yeah, I'll admit that I wanted to see what might happen, lying there alone, thinking that I could point at the second towel to indicate that I wasn't alone. Had to a couple of times, which was kind of flattering. Oh, thinking about what you were probably doing may have helped - nipples."

I chuckled and said: 

"Even I would dare to speak to a strange woman whose were popping out. And then he came along?"

"Um-hmm. When he did, of course, I suggested that he sit down. I felt them pop out again; don't know if he noticed."

"Probably."

"I hope he did," Anna added.

"You two!"

"You wanted us to," Anna replied.

"Aren't I nice," Marge remarked.

"Very," I agreed: "And then?"

"Of course, he asked where you were. He just winked, when I said that you both didn't want to get a sunburn on your fannies."

"He must know that we all sleep together," Anna remarked.

Marge's shower was taking a little longer, soaping and rinsing. She replied: 

"I am sure, too, but maybe not really thinking just how much 'together'."

"Oh, that you and I don't, just sharing him - you?" She glanced at me.

"Maybe. Of course, he didn't ask, and I didn't tell him. Well, we chatted a little. I guess he thought it was nice too, asking me if I wanted something to drink and then suggesting we have a glass of wine."

"At his place?" Anna asked.

"He didn't say that, but I think that is what he meant."

"Oooh! Did you?"

"She would have known, if she did," I explained.

"If I had been here alone, I probably would have, but I didn't want even to suggest something without your knowing."

"We - I wouldn't have minded," Anna replied.

Marge opened the shower curtain, and one of us handed her her towel. She smiled and said: 

"I didn't think either of you would, but still .... Of course, I didn't say that, but suggested that if he really wanted to have a glass of wine with me, he could come over here. He thought that was a very nice alternative, immediately saying that he would bring a bottle for us all to share."

"We're good at sharing," I remarked, smirking at them both, as we all chuckled, nodding.

Anna brushed her hair, while Marge dried herself. I returned to the room, finding that Marge had remade the bed and picked up in the room. Anna joined me, glancing at the bed and then at me with a broad smile. Before Marge could join us, there was a knock at the door. She came to the bathroom door, still brushing her hair. 

As she gestured for us to open it, I suddenly had the experience I had had with Anna: seeing Marge afresh, no doubt helped by seeing the way her breasts moved with her arms raised to brush her hair, but everything else was also attractive, reminding me of some 19th century paint of a nude in about the same pose. As I went to the door, I thought that Sans-culotte would probably know the painting and artist if he saw Marge standing like that.

I opened the door. He greeted me with a hand shake, rather formal, considering our lack of attire, and smiled past me at Anna and then at Marge, greeting them by name. I looked back and saw that Marge was still brushing her hair, a bit to my surprise, since it seemed a little lascivious of her still to be grooming herself when a guest arrived. Very lascivious, obviously straight from her shower, as though she were getting ready for him. 

Sans (for short) smiled as though he shared my impression. Why not, I thought: he had invited her for a glass of wine - maybe to his room - and she had said that she might have accepted his invitation. Almost appropriate of her to suggest that she could be getting ready for him, if she wanted to.

He snorted and murmured: 

"Ingres' The source."

I wouldn't have pronounced "Ingres" properly, but I immediately knew the painting he meant, that of a nude woman holding an amphora on her shoulder, just the one I had tried to remember. I grinned at him and said: 

"Exactly what I was thinking when you rang, that she reminded me of a well-known painting, just couldn't remember which one, much less the artist and name. Thanks."

"Really?" Marge asked, joining us with her hairbrush still in her hand.

"Very much," he replied, adding: 

"Oh, there are other nice nudes in a similar pose in the Musée d'Orsay, but that was the first one I thought of. ... Anyway, I brought two bottles of wine," and he held up a cloth bag, a wine glass also in his hand.

I closed the door, turning back to see him smile at Anna and say: 

"And I can't tell you how many artists would love to have you as model."

She blushed with a smile and suddenly erect nipples, so aware of them that she instinctively put her hands on her breasts. He nodded and added: 

"Just like that."

"Two bottles?" she asked, apparently to cover her embarrassment at his unexpected compliment.

"One for you and one for me," he replied with a wink and chuckle, which didn't reduce her being flustered.

"Please come in and sit down," Marge said, adding: 

"Very nice that you wanted to join us."

"Of course, and thank you for inviting me. I have to open a bottle first. Go ahead and sit down."

We had a two-seater sofa and an armchair and a desk chair. I gestured for the women to sit on the sofa and sat on the desk chair, while he took a bottle out of the bag. "Glasses" he said, and Anna sprang up and put our three next to the one he had brought and put on the desk. In the French resort - even a nudist one - there were wine glasses in the rooms.

As accustomed as I was to being nude, it was still a little funny to see someone with nothing on doing something so familiar as holding a red wine bottle between his thighs to pull out the cork, also to watch him pour with the aplomb of waiter in a tuxedo. He handed us our glasses, and I gestured for him to sit on the armchair. He sniffed at his glass and nodded, then saying: 

"I hope you like it. I brought a whole case, two. It's from my uncle's vineyard. My brother and I now have to help drink it. Cheers, zum Wohl," the latter with at smile at Anna.

We all took a sip. Marge smiled and remarked: 

"Maybe I should have accepted you invitation before, if I had known that the wine would be so good."

"I'm now glad you didn't. No, that sounded wrong. I am very glad that I'm here."

He raised his glass to her, and they drank, smiling at each other. She asked: 

"Your uncle?"

"It belonged to both of them after my grandfather died."

She glanced at the bottle and said: 

"I doubt that you and your brother can just help drink such a nice wine."

"No. Just an attempt at British understatement. ... Oh, you're going to see the name. My neighbors here know, but everyone else doesn't have to."

We all nodded and had another sip. After a moment of silence, he said: 

"Last year, the champagne was from Étienne's - Stephan's - family's estate near Riems."

"Why didn't he come this year," I asked.

"I talked him into last year. His wife didn't want to come. Well, you know what happened. Oh, he had a good time, an unintended good time, but he didn't want to do that again."

"Of course," Marge responded, asking: 

"And you?"

"I'm a widower, since three years."

"Oh, sorry."

"I didn't mind that we had a good time last year."

We all nodded again and had another sip, understanding that he had gotten over his loss.

"And you?" he asked glancing around at us.

"All single now. I'm divorced." I replied.

"And, if I may ask, whose idea was it to include Anna?"

We three exchanged glances and smiles. Marge replied: 

"It was mine, but I knew he would be delighted."

"And I was, am."

"Me too," Anna rejoined with a broad smile, also again with erect nipples.

"And me too," Marge agreed.

He snorted with a slight smile and had a sip, and we also had one. He looked up with wry smile and said: "I won't ask."

We three looked at each other again, chuckling. Marge smirked at him and anticipated his question, remarking: "Who sleeps on the single bed?"

"Hmm! Something like that."

Anna snickered and said: 

"We were taking a nap on it, when Marge came and said that you were coming."

All four of us chuckled at her revelation. Anna's nipples popped out again. Marge remarked evenly. glancing at me: 

"We two didn't want it to be just one-on-one, as good as it was last year - and is - but Anna and Petra then helped keeping it from being too much of that."

I nodded, smiling at Anna, who smirked with a nod. Sans also nodded, then looking questioningly at Marge. She nodded with a snort, smirking slightly, and said: 

"I didn't suggest that Anna join us just for him."

Anna nodded, and the two of them exchanged smiles.

"Nice," Sans remarked softly,

"I think so," I agreed and held up my glass to Marge and Anna, also to Sans.

We all had more than a sip. Then he said: 

"May I refill your glasses?"

We nodded with smiles. He stood up and took the bottle, turning to each of us and refilling our glass. Again, it was a little funny to see a naked person moving formally, as though he were in his own home - a more formal home than mine had been. He sat back down and raised his glass, and we all nodded and drank. He smiled slightly and remarked: 

"It sounds like you are very compatible."

I had forgotten our previous discussion, but then immediately remembered. A glance at Marge and Anna showed that they suddenly also had, their nipples erect again. Marge nodded with slight, wry smile. Anna replied more directly: 

"I am very lucky that they invited me," then looking at us and adding: "Thank you, again."

She raised her glass, smiling at us and including Sans, and we all drank again. He murmured: "Lucky, nice for you, ... for you all."

I wondered if his more serious expression suggested disappointment with his own situation here. He smiled wryly and remarked: 

"Well, we all certainly had a good time last year. You obviously are again, here."

We nodded with smiles. Did Anna's and Marge's glances at me suggest that they wanted me to reply, to refer to what we had talked about him before? What to say? How to start?

"Maybe better than you are. They ..." I glanced at Marge and Anna: " ... were hoping you would also be enjoying yourself here."

"More or less."

"I think that is what they meant, ... hoping 'more'."

He glanced at them with a slight smile, allowing me to also glance at them. I thought their expressions indicated that I had said the right thing. He took a sip of his wine and then smiled a little better and replied, looking at them: 

"Kind of you to worry about me. A German - maybe you know whom, Anna - wrote a book in the 18th century about how to get along with people, and wrote that one should only mention one's problems to someone who could help."

Anna smiled brightly and said: 

"I think that was Knigge. I haven't read his book, but that sounds like the title. His name has become a - what's the word? Anyway, when people hear "Knigge," they think of a book on manners."

We all had a sip of wine, I had a better one; this was going to be ticklish. Did they want me to suggest that he could tell them? Was his remark a tactful invitation for me to? Now or never!

"Maybe that is what they meant."

I hid my nose in my glass with another drink to avoid looking at any of them and see their expressions. When I lowered my glass, he had a bemused expression. Anna was blushing with aroused nipples, but not looking displeased. Marge's nipples were also aroused, but she was smiling slightly at him.

He took a drink of his wine, probably to stall having to reply, like I had before. He looked up again, still with a bemused expression, looking at me, and murmured: 

"You think so? I didn't expect this."

I glanced at the others, receiving the slightest of nods, and replied: 

"I think so, ... but maybe I've talked too much."

I drank the last of my wine. The others had a smaller sip. He looked at Anna and Marge and said softly: "It's not really a problem."

Then Anna really surprised me - and them. Blushing again, she replied: "But it could seem like one, now that you know about us."

Needless to say, her nipples were aroused again. She blushed even more, which was most becoming. He smiled, almost grinning, and hummed, replying: "If you want it to be, ... I was trying think it wasn't."

Anna was still blushing as she emptied her glass. Marge smiled more confidently, coming to Anna's defense, saying: "We didn't want to let it become a problem."

Her nipples also tightened. I had to think that it was little funny that sometimes they only did after a woman heard what she was saying. She also finished her wine, and he then did, looking at his empty glass - stalling again - and then glanced back and forth at them and murmured: "Both of you?"

"I think so," I replied, hoping to save them from having to respond. He looked at me, smirking, and replied: "Now I know why I brought two bottles."

"In vino veritas. Good idea."

He nodded with a grin and got up, emptying the first bottle in his glass and then opening the second one. While he did, Marge and Anna smirked at me with nods. He filled our glasses again, not looking up from them as he did so. He sat back down, and we all looked at each other with bemused expressions, chuckling softly. He raised his glass and said: "In vino veritas."

We all nodded and drank, chuckling again when we smiled at each other. He snorted and said: 

"I said it before: I didn't expect this. You want me to have a problem?"

"We don't want you to," Anna replied quickly.

Marge nodded strongly once with a smile, then smirking and saying: 

"And we won't ask you tell us that you do."

We all chuckled, he most of all, replying: 

"I don't have a problem; at least, I wasn't admitting to it myself, and you don't want me to have one. But, well, it sounds like you want help solve it anyway. I'm not sure what's supposed to happen."

Anna blushed again with tight nipples. I was tempted to tell him that she liked older men, but that would have left out Marge, besides being much too direct. Then it occurred to me to say: 

"Just assume that you had a problem, since you suggested that you were only not admitting that you had one, and then consider how they could help."

He took a drink of wine, and the rest of us did. He looked up with a slightly puzzled expression, looking at each of us, and replied: "You mean it? Have you been planning this?"

Anna nodded involuntarily. Marge murmured: 

"Didn't plan it - not this - just talked about it, ... about you're not having a companion here."

"Hmm! I had the impression - at least since I've been here - that you three ..., well, wouldn't worry about other people."

"Just a little, about people we like," Marge replied with a smile, adding: "someone who would invite me for a glass of wine."

"You thought ...?!"

"Maybe, ... if I had been here alone, as I told them."

"We both said that we wouldn't have minded," I rejoined, Anna nodding.

"You thought I meant it like that?"

"Wouldn't have minded if you had," Marge replied.

"Hmm! Hmmm? Did I? Not consciously." 

He smiled, then holding up his glass to her and adding: 

"Anyway, we have had a glass of wine together," and they had a sip. He glanced at Anna and me, adding: "All of us," and we all drank. 

He stood up and refilled our glasses without asking. After he sat down, he looked around at us, again with a bemused expression, looking again at Marge, and they both smiled and drank together. It looked like they were agreeing that they might do something about his problem, which was fine with me - already thinking about spending the night alone with Anna. Her slight smile and nod to Marge seemed to confirm that she agreed. Marge noticed and then smiled more broadly at him and said: 

"Anna likes older men."

He looked at her. Her nipples had popped out as she blushed again, but she smiled shyly with a little nod. He snorted strongly and muttered: 

"I do have a problem!" and drank, more than he had before. I grinned at Marge and Anna and replied: 

"I think that is what they wanted to hear."

They nodded, returning my grin. He looked up with a very wry smile and said: 

"If I didn't know I had one before, I have since I've been here. But now I have another problem."

"Maybe Marge shouldn't have said that," Anna replied.

"Something like that. I'll admit to the first problem and accept help, but the second problem ...?"

We all nodded, returning his wry smile and drank. I looked up and said: 

"You'll have to decide."

"No, I won't! That is sort of decision that started the Trojan Wars. I live in Paris, but I'm not Paris."

Since he pronounced the two words differently - "Paree" for the city, and "Paris" for the man in Greek mythology - his reference was obvious to me, and also to Anna and Marge, who both nodded with smiles. Marge then grinned and said: 

"It's not that bad, neither of us is Aphrodite."

"Hmm! I could argue about that, but I still won't decide."

We all laughed and emptied our glasses. When Anna said suddenly that she had to go to the bathroom, we all had to, letting her go first. Since she didn't close the door, we heard her going, but avoided looking in that direction. When she flushed, Marge immediately followed her, and Sans and I heard both her and Anna's running water in the washbasin. He looked at me with a wry expression, nodding towards the bathroom, and asked softly: 

"Do they really mean it?"




Bastille Day Ch. 08



"I'm sure. Hm-hmm! Three choices."

"Three?!"

"Or both together."

"Hmm! Hadn't thought of that. Hm-hmm! Can imagine why you did."

"Um-hmm! That should really make you recognize that you have a problem, ... and the solution."

"Don't brag."

"It really was Marge's suggestion."

"Go pee! Won't surprised them, and I can wait."

We chuckled, and I did, and then he did. It was still too early for dinner, so we went for a walk. I got the impression that we all were avoiding forming couples. That was emphasized when Anna and Marge walked ahead of us, then holding hands. Sans snorted and murmured: 

"What do you do then?"

"Better that you ask one of them. Hm-hmm! Or let them show you."

"You don't really mean that."

"No, not without me, but last year we always found something to do, with Petra, with Willy and Ron."

"Where was I?! With them too?"

"Not me!"

Marge turned her head back and asked why I had spoken so loud. 

"Just to emphasize that I didn't do anything with Ron and Willy."

"Hmm! We'd better not let you two talk by yourselves."

They joined us again, and Sans led us to areas of the areal that we hadn't seen before. At the end of a longer, straight path, he chuckled and said: 

Late one evening I was taking a walk - nothing else to do alone. There was couple sitting on the bench, well, she was sitting on him."

We all chuckled. Anna murmured: 

"Never did it outdoors."

"Something to look forward to," he replied, smiling at her. Marge and I just glanced at each other. I wondered if she also was recalling that Anna had admitted that the four of them had been at the far end of the beach at Cap d'Agde. Had Anna forgotten, or did she want to make a suggestion? 

When we returned, it was time for dinner. Sans sat with us, of course, and we told more about ourselves than he already knew. He mentioned that he had studied at INA in Paris and gone on to a career in government, ready for retirement in a year or two. We had to ask what INA was.

"An agricultural college - the vineyards, you know," he replied. 

Since he had already intimated that he couldn't be seen at the flash mob, we understood that he was understating his career and, of course, didn't ask further. Perhaps he also thought of that, changing the subject and telling that the flash mob was gaining participants from others at the resort, then telling that he was hoping the resort would support the project by letting us use its small bus.

We finished our meal without reference to our discussion before dinner, but it must have been in all our minds as we left the restaurant in silence. Outside the building, Sans remarked: 

"I guess I should collect my bag and the bottles - oh, and the corkscrew. A little funny having no pockets."

We nodded with a chuckle, and he accompanied us. I wished that we had a bottle of wine to allow suggesting we continue the evening together. Then I wondered if he was stalling our separating, wondering - hoping? - we would somehow return to our discussion. It had been obvious that he had understood what Marge and Anna were suggesting, also that he was interested, only sidestepping a direct answer that would have to be a choice between the two. 

We continued to our place in silence, where he put the bottles back in the bag. I noticed that he still hadn't picked up his corkscrew, when he looked around at us and said: 

"Thank you for your hospitality."

"And thank you for the fine wine," I replied.

"My pleasure, especially with such good company. ... Oh, my corkscrew; I almost forgot it again."

Anna handed it to him with a smile, almost a smirk. I snorted and said: 

"I'm sure one of us would have brought it to you."

"Where are you staying?" Marge asked with a smile like Anna's.

He smiled the same way, and so did I. He snorted and told us where, then adding: 

"Maybe I should forget it."

"If you want to," Anna replied, this time really smirking - also with tight nipples.

"I don't think you need to," I remarked, giving him a wink.

We all suppressed a chuckle. He nodded with a smile and left and we sat down.

How did I know that the others had suppressed a chuckle? A few moments after I closed the door, we all really did chuckle, grinning at each other with nods. Marge said: 

"I almost had to laugh."

"Me too," Anna agreed, then repeating his instructions of where he was staying.

"Don't run after him," I joked.

Her nipples popped out again. I smirked and added: "Yet!"

She snorted with a slight smirk and replied: 

"I just wanted to make sure we got it right, ... for Marge."

"For me?" she asked with feigned surprise, but her nipples had also popped out.

"For one of you, but I'm not going to decide. 

"Marge," Anna replied in a tone that suggested that she wanted to settle the question.

"But you like older men, ... and said that you wanted to know about Latin lovers."

"I asked if you had ever slept with a French man."

"Why me always, having to go to your room last year, so you and Petra could learn about ... a not so old man?"

"Thank you! But it didn't sound like it was a great sacrifice, not from what Ron and Willy told."

Marge nodded with a smirking grin, but looked at Anna and replied: 

"But it was you, really, who wanted to sleep with a French man, an older one thereto. Can say that, since he isn't here."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," I remarked with a grin, adding: unless you disappoint him and let him think that you think he is too old."

"Not me!" Anna remarked, glancing at Marge and asking: "Do you?"

She shook her head with a grin. I snorted and said: 

"I thought women argued or fought about which one could have a man, not about wanting the other one to."

We all laughed. Anna with a stern expression - as stern a one as a naked young woman could muster after several glasses of wine - said firmly: "Marge," then grinned and added: "first!"

We all laughed again. Marge gave a resigned sounding sigh, smiling slightly, before she murmured: "This will be the first time I did this because two other people wanted me to."

"Wrong," I countered: you did for Anna and Petra."

She grinned and replied: 

"Wrong again, for you too - three persons."

"Okay," I agreed: "three, this time too, including Sans."

"Four!" Anna corrected me with broad smirk, looking at Marge, adding: 

"You want to, too; almost said as much before dinner."

Marge gave herself beaten with a nod and grin, remarking: 

"Just didn't want to admit it, in case Anna wanted to more."

"Next time," she replied with a grin.

We all snickered. Marge asked: "Where was his place?"

Anna repeated what he had said. Marge nodded and asked: "Already, now?"

I smirked and replied: "Before he opens another bottle to drown his aroused expectations - or does worse! 

She gave me a smile and got up and went to the bathroom. Anna and I grinned at each other. Of course, we were going to enjoy each other's company, but our grins were more about our having found a solution for Sans problem. Marge returned, smiling wryly. I escorted her to the door. With a slight slap on her ass, I said: 

"Good night, and remember, he recalled that you look like Ingres' painting: "The Source." I think so too."

She gave me a smile, and I closed the door, turning back to Anna, who nodded with another grin. 

It was really too early to go to bed, but it is never too early to get in bed with a young naked woman. We opened the double bed and lay down, her head on my shoulder, her hand instinctively finding my cock and balls; not to arouse me, just because it was the natural thing for her to do.

We chuckled and exchanged thoughts about about what Marge could be doing: maybe now knocking at his door, and then speculating about what they would do. Anna thought that she would want to start by sucking his cock. I agreed, asking her if she thought he would just let her, or if he would want to lick her pussy first. She replied that if he were like her father, he would prefer to just enjoy what we thought she would do. When I agreed, she chuckled and fondled my balls, replying: 

"I thought so."

That somewhat upset our conversation, sentences reduced to a few word: 

"Lick her afterwards"

"Not let her finish, want to ... you know." 

"Hope not, for her."

"Hmm! You would."

"You too!"

"Um-hmm, but I'm not him."

"Hm-hmm! I don't mind - tonight!"

"My good luck."

"But, of course, they would, whether she does or doesn't."

"Does? Right now?"

"Hope so. I would."

"Hmm! And tell him to let you?"

"Good idea!"

"Thought so."

"Hm-hmm! Like I want to now."

Her hand slid up and fondled my cock. She chuckled as it responded. I teased her: 

"And if I don't want to?"

"Do! Otherwise you would have to afterwards, and then we want to do it again, but we already did that this afternoon."

"We still could again."

She was already moving around. She snickered throatily and replied: 

"I want to do it so good for you - and me - that you don't want to."

"Oh, then I'd better try to make you feel the same way."

"I sure hope so!"

My cock was in her mouth before she had her hips around so that I could bury my face between her thighs, this time lying on our sides. After initialing arousing each other, despite our eager words, we slowed down, rather like we had in the afternoon. We took turns making it a little more arousing for each, then chuckling and stopping: tempting, teasing each other in the most pleasurable way. Anticipation is ninety percent of enjoyment.

Our hands roamed all over each other's body, wherever we could reach. It was delightful to be so intimate, touching each other as familiarly as though we were touching ourselves. Mine found her breasts and played with her nipples in response to her arousing me better for a few moments. A couple of times, she relinquished my cock and sucked one of my balls, and I tongued her asshole, then returning to arouse her clitoris again. It was very arousingly delightful. I recalled her telling that she had sat on her father's cock for half an hour. How long would we continue? 

As often happens when one has that thought, as pleasurable as what one is doing is - not just sex - the thought seems to precipitate the end. Maybe she hadn't had the same thought, just couldn't wait any longer to taste me. It was her turn to arouse me. She moaned a little louder and sucked my cock deeper in her mouth. I took the hint and didn't wait for my turn. As I began to arouse her, she nodded, and I nodded, and we both began to do all we could.

With twitching hips and deep, pulsing moans, we both came: my semen spurting deep in her mouth. Her orgasm was even wetter and messier, but I loved it, lapping up as much of her pussy juice as I could. I rolled on my back, gasping and moaning. 

She lay there with my cock still in her mouth, gasping cool air in passed it and moaning with long sighs. I reached down and fondled her breast. She nodded with another moan. When her gasps subsided, she licked and gently sucked my wilting cock. I felt her tongue move the softening head of my cock. Then she let it slip from between her lips and also rolled back. We lay there with our heads on each other's thigh. My eyelids were wet with her juice. I blinked them open, discovering that it was now darker in the room, although in July the sun still set quite late by Summer Time.

Her hand found mine on her breast and she sighed again, nodding on my thigh. I squeezed with a nod. She nodded again and murmured: 

"God, that was good! Better than I could imagine. We sure do it good."

"Um-hmm! Very!"

"Um-hmm, for me, too."

She chuckled and added: 

"I wanted to kiss you and let you taste it too, but too late now; I can hardly taste it."

"I would have wanted to."

"Your fault, making me have to just lie there to recover."

"Like I wanted."

"Like I wanted you to. Hm-hmm! I wonder what they are doing, or have done."

"Nothing better, but I hope just as good."

"Me too."

We were silent for a few moments. Then she chuckled and said: 

"Have to go to the bathroom; can't wait any longer."

She sat up and grinned down at me in the gloom and licked her lips. I followed her to the bathroom and turned on the light, having to blink a couple of times before I could look at her. 

Seeing her sitting on the toilet and hearing her pee was too familiar to let me see her with new eyes, like I had in the afternoon, but still very attractive, letting me recall Sans' remark about Aphrodite. She smiled up at me with a snort and reached out and tapped my cock, still long enough to swing. We both chuckled. She got up without wiping, reaching for a washcloth. While she washed, I used the toilet. I flushed, and she finished washing her pussy, turning to me with a smile and handing me the washcloth. While I washed my face and cock and balls, she dried herself, then also handing me the towel. She stood in the doorway while I used it.

"He was right that you both could look like Aphrodite," I said with a grin.

"Oh, just flattering."

"No. Pose for me. Wish I had an internet connection and could compare your figure with those of the many statues and paintings."

"Now you are flattering."

"No. Pose."

She smiled and assumed the pose of Aphrodite with her arm in front of her breasts and her other hand down before her pussy, smirking at me.

"Just like that; I am right. Another one."

"They don't have arms."

She put her arms behind her back with a grin. What a delightful sight, a nude young woman standing there, enjoying letting me look at her. I grinned back and said: "nipples."

We both chuckled when they responded, making my view even better. Then I remembered Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" - with better detail than I expected - and remarked: 

"Botticelli's Venus had arms."

"Um-hmm, but she was blond."

"And didn't have as nice breasts as yours."

Anna nodded with smile and jiggled her breasts with her hands for me. I nodded with another grin, responding: 

"She didn't do that. Just hold one hand here, ..." I held mine between my breasts: "... and the other one down below." 

She smiled and did so. I corrected her pose: 

"Lower, her long blond hair covered that, and knees together, tilting your hips."

She chuckled, following my instructions, nodding and grinning, which wasn't the expression of Botticelli's Venus, but more enticingly attractive. She wasn't quite as slender, but the pose was very good, I thought, wishing I could capture it with photo.  

She relaxed with a snicker and said: 

"Now you: Mars, ..." I sucked in my stomach. She shook her head with a smirk, adding: 

"Hercules." 

"Even worse," I flexed my meager bicep.

"Neptune?" 

"No trident. Probably a satyr."

"Hm-hmm! Maybe. Oh, definitely!"

We both laughed. I tried to make a lecherous expression - not difficult when looking at her. She grinned and then tried to look shocked, covering her nipples and pussy in a reflex that was as good as any pose. I nodded, smiling again and said: 

"I think satyrs only got to leer at nymphs, ... well, maybe not just leer."

"Hm-hmm! I hope not, for their sake. Does that make me a nymph? Sounds better than being a goddess or half-goddess."

"You are! Even if I think you could look like one."

I instinctively held out my arms, and we embraced and kissed, both chuckling - before our kiss got better. It was more emotional than I thought it should be. How could it not be after all we had done with each other, including being able to have such a delightful conversation? And one doesn't want to stop kissing a young would-be-nymph who was pressing her Aphrodite-like body against one.

I was relieved when she retrieved her tongue with a soft "um-hmm," then murmuring: 

"Just a nymph and satyr."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, liking that she had disarmed the emotional content that she had apparently also felt - but not without liking that she had also felt it.

I turned off the light in the bathroom and we went to bed. When I curled up behind her, my arm around her, she found my hand and drew it up on her breast. We said good night and fell asleep.

We didn't sleep like that the whole night, but towards morning we were again, and my cock knew it, and she was aware of where it was. Before I was, I was awakened by a soft "um-hmm" and felt fingers finding my cock. It's not nice to admit that I didn't immediately know whose fingers, but I knew what they were doing, pressing it up in a nice warm place, and then with a rock of her - whose ever - hips, it was in an even nicer and warmer place!

When she moaned softly, I was awake enough to remember that I was sleeping with Anna, chagrined that I hadn't known before. "Faithless lover," I thought; that I could have forgotten. Just a nymph and satyr? 

"Mmmm! The nicest way to wake up," she murmured, and moved her shoulders away from me so that she could roll them back. It was dawning. She turned her head back and murmured: 

"Good morning. Must be early; just getting lighter."

"Good morning. Very much the nicest way to wake up, ... to be awakened."

"You weren't already?"

"Not quite."

"Hm-hmm! Was I dreaming about a satyr? It felt like it."

"Hm-hmm! No, just me."

"Even better, since satyrs don't really exist."

"Hmm! Hope you aren't disappointed."

"Hm-hmm! They have hairy goats' legs. You don't." 

Her hand had slid back and rubbed my thigh. I rubbed hers and replied: 

"Nymphs don't. All the ones I have seen only have hair on their heads."

My hand slid down over her thigh to where she would have had hair. She chuckled with a nod and remarked: 

"Maybe I am just a nymph." 

She rocked her hips; just in time, before my cock forgot where it was. It didn't. My fingers explored a little further and she nodded, remarking: 

"I kind of thought that satyrs were less gentle."

"Hmm, an older satyr.

"And that nymphs were just passive."

"Hm-hmm! Just a Greek myth."

"That's good. Don't let it slip out."

We both chuckled and moved so that she could also roll her hips back. It didn't slip out, and I moved so that it could slip deeper in her nymph's pussy. A "nymphomaniac's? No! Just the very nice, tight pussy of real live young woman in the twenty-first century. I held her and moved again, curling my hips under her thigh behind hers and drawing mine up to hold her other thigh between them. She nodded with a pleased-sounding "Um-hmmm!" and rocked her hips.

Did we know how to fuck?! She didn't like that word, but she sure knew how to. My fingers explored further, rubbing over the top of her slit, over the firm place that slid back and forth under my fingers. She moaned, and our hips rocked. I opened my eyes and saw her aroused nipples in the now lighter room. I curled my head down and sucked the near one. She moaned in approval, and her hand found her other breast. 

Has anyone ever considered what a feat of coordination it is simultaneously to fuck and to rub a clitoris, while sucking a nipple? Patting one's belly and rubbing one's hair should be cinch in comparison. But it isn't! Not with an aroused vagina clutching one's cock; and twitching hips urging one's fingers to rub; and aroused moans responding to the almost painful things one is doing to a nipple.

Maybe I was a satyr! She certainly wasn't a passive nymph - if they ever were passive. In the pictures I could remember, they just looked like they didn't want to admit it. But none of the pictures showed them getting it. But Anna - my nymph - was! And I was too!

It's indecent, unfair, to try to tell how good it was. Besides, I have forgotten that I didn't want to dwell on the erotic experiences that made these trips so good. But I can't.

My throbbing cock exploded in the pulsing grips of her vagina, as her hot pussy juice flooded, warm on my hair and and on my tight sack, as I grunted, and her body shook, as she whimpered.




Bastille Day Ch. 08



Very good sex doesn't sound like the ecstasy it is.

As we were recovering, my thighs relaxing, she drew hers up and murmured: 

"Don't leave; it just feels so good to have it there."

A clutch of her vagina emphasized what she meant. I drew my thigh higher up to keep my softening cock in her. "Um-hmm" we both agreed and lay there, completely relaxed.

I wondered if the ancient Greeks had had the same thoughts I did about nymphs. I considered that they probably thought satyrs were more animalistically aggressive, but "my" nymph had obviously still been satisfied. Nice thought to relax with after such a good, mutual orgasm. Oh, vagina, pussy, she called it her muschi. What was the German for pussy juice? Ask Marge, maybe.

She squeezed my cock again with slight chuckle and murmured: "Still there," but I couldn't make it respond. We just lay there in silence as it grew lighter. She was also wondering about Marge and Sans I imagined, confirmed when she snorted and remarked: 

"I bet they're doing it to, or have already again."

"We hope so."

"Um-hmm," she agreed, and we were silent again. 

This time I was wondering if we would only see her again at breakfast - with him, of course. A minute or two later, I heard the door being quietly opened, and then heard her whisper: 

"Oh, didn't want to disturb you."

Anna - in a better position to see her - raised her head and replied: 

"No, we just stayed this way, feels good like this." I nodded.

"Of course," Marge agreed.

Anna turned her head to me with a grin and squeezed my cock again - tried to; it slipped out. She chuckled and remarked to Marge: 

"Well, it did feel good. Hmm! Hope it did for you too."

"Mmmmm! It did. Get up and I'll tell you. He's offered to take us sightseeing in Avignon, so we should be at breakfast early. Says it's about an hour's drive."

Anna and I grinned and untangled our legs and hurried past Marge to the bathroom. She snickered and remarked: 

"I thought so. I went in the bushes."

"In the bushes?" Anna asked. 

I was already in the shower stall and grabbed her hand before she could sit down on the toilet. She smirked with a nod and joined me, murmuring: 

"With you? Like with them last year."

We all chuckled, Marge also watching our streams arch out. Marge said: 

"Yeah, in the bushes. We took an early morning walk, not just a walk."

"Hmm! 'Not just a walk.' We hoped so," Anna replied with a grin, adding: "but hadn't thought of that."

"Hm-hmm! To that bench?" I asked.

"Um-hmm. We were about to be like I found you two, but then he suggested the walk, explaining that it wouldn't be so good, if someone saw me leaving his room later." 

Anna and I began to wash each other, and Marge continued: 

"Yeah, well, of course, I understood that it wouldn't be just a walk and didn't want it to be one. When I saw that we were going to that bench, I asked about someone being able to see us. He explained that if anyone did, they would before they got near enough to recognize us, better than a bench behind a hedge, where someone would only discover us when they were too near.

"So we did, sitting on his lap. Hm-hmm! Not just on his lap, of course, and he was sucking my nipples. They're still a little sore. I was surprised when he took my hand and pushed it down between us."

"Hm-hmm! Like I was doing yesterday before our nap," Anna interjected.

"Probably, what else? And he knew where else I wanted to be rubbed. Oh, it was good! Walking back, it was running down my thigh, a little embarrassing. We separated with a kiss, and then I found a bush. Still no one around, luckily."

We all chuckled. I was washing Anna's pussy and asshole with both hands. She hummed, but then said: 

"Don't start that again. And last night, Marge?"

"Oh, it was more than a little funny, naked at his door, hoping no one would see me and wondering which of us he would be expecting, and how he would greet me."

"And?" I asked.

"He just grinned and beckoned me in, closing the door quietly, and then smiled at me - real nice - and said that he wasn't sure this was really happening. I suddenly wondered if call girls' nipples popped out like mine were."

"But he hadn't called you; it was our idea," Anna replied.

"Yeah, but still .... Anyway, we had another glass of his good wine, started one. Oh, I could see that he was a little aroused, and I was too."

"That's good, that he was," I remarked.

"Yeah, but that didn't help much, but I kept glancing at it, while we tried to make conversation, until I finally blurted out: 'I want to, they want me to.' He nodded and replied softly: 'I want to, too,' and fondled his now more aroused cock. I almost emptied my glass and murmured: 'Like this,' and dropped down on my knees."

"Oooh! Like that? I was wondering how it finally started," Anna exclaimed softly. 

I slapped her bottom and drew back the shower curtain. Marge grinned and handed her her towel. She stepped out and I began to shave, letting her continue the conversation: 

"And then?!"

"Hmm! Oh, he didn't mind my starting like that, but when I thought it was getting better, he pulled me up and pushed me back on the bed. He must have known that I would already be aroused, not worrying about whether it would slip in so easily. It did, and then he was like a youngster, not taking his time. Oh, he came, but just kept on, and I did, and hardly slowed down till he did again, coming with him. "Fuck! He sure did, we did!"

"Oooh! That's good! We were right; he had a problem," Anna exclaimed softly.

I chuckled and agreed: "It sure sounded like it." Marge nodded, replying: 

"Had a problem, had had one. We had to wash a little and then had another glass of wine, now, of course, much more relaxed. When he said that he hoped I would spend the night .... I hadn't even considered that I wouldn't. So we went to bed. We were cuddling up, and I murmured - maybe I should have been a call girl - I murmured that I wanted to finish what I had started, fondling him. He said something in French, then asking: 'Sixty-nine?' Oooh, he has a long tongue and knows how to use it."

"Don't make me envious!" Anna replied, and we all chuckled.

I had finished shaving and started to dry myself, and asked: 

"What did he say in French?"

"When we were cuddling again, I asked him, the same expression in French: 'soixante-neuf.' Had to ask him to repeat it and to correct my pronunciation.

Anna repeated it and chuckled, repeating it again and saying: 

"Sounds better. Hm-hmm! Almost like doing it." 

She said it again, puckering her lips for the first two syllables. Marge and I nodded with grins, and she said: 

"Just what I thought when I saw him say it, not last night. This morning, on the bench, I asked him to say it again, and then again with that thought, and thrust my tongue between his lips. He liked that, and that I told him why, saying that that had never occurred to him, and then stuck his tongue between my lips, when I said it."

"Soixante-neuf," I said - tried to say - with the tip of my tongue between my lips."

They laughed. Marge replied: 

"Very good, but only girls should do it like that."

"Next time, please," I replied, and we all chuckled.

It was still too early for breakfast, but we went out anyway, finding a few other early risers, chuckling as we whispered about whether they had spent the night or early morning like we had. When it was time for breakfast, we saw Sans approach. He waved and joined us, smiling with a snort as he nodded to Marge and then to Anna and me. Marge grinned and said: 

"Pronounce it for them."

He looked around to see that no one could overhear him and then smirked and said: "Soixante-neuf."

We three nodded and repeated it, grinning with chuckles. Anna smirked and said: 

"Sounds even more like doing it, when you say it, thought that even when Marge did."

"Hm-hmm! If you think so. Guess there are no secrets between you three. You want to come along to Avignon?"

Anna and I nodded and thanked him for his offer, and we went in to breakfast. We found a table away from the few other early risers. We all smirked slightly as we looked at each other before beginning to eat. 

He told us what there was to see in Avignon, saying that we couldn't see all the sites. With a few questions, we finished our meal listening to him. As we left the building, he said: 

"Have to get dressed like normal people: no shorts and no sleeveless tops, since we'll be going to a couple of churches. And bring a towel; I was thinking we could have a picnic on the way back. I have a blanket in my auto, but it's not too big." 

"That doesn't matter," Anna replied, receiving a smile from him.

"Bras?" Marge asked.

He snorted with another smile and shook his head, then saying: 

"Ten minutes, here?"

We nodded and hurried back to our place, chuckling as we got dressed for the first time since we had arrived. We each got our beach towel and returned, chuckling when Marge glanced over and said: "Like normal people."

He was dressed a little better than we were, also carrying a towel, and we followed him to the parking lot. Marge and Anna insisted on sitting on the back seat of his largest model Peugeot. During the drive, he told about the history of Avignon: the popes, anti-popes, etc. As we were getting out of the car, he said that if anyone spoke to him, he would introduce us as tourist friends he was showing around. No one did, but I thought that some people seemed to recognize him. 

He gave us very informative tour, and for a few hours we forgot that we were staying at nudist resort and the way we had spent the previous night. Really! I didn't even look to see if Anna's or Marge's nipples could be seen through their blouses. 

In the middle of the afternoon, he suggested that we think about returning and that we get some wine, bread, cheese and local sausage. I insisted on paying and he accepted my offer. On the way back to his car, we visited a last historical site, and then were driving back the same route. After a few miles, he said that he hoped he could find a secluded place on a side road. 

The word "secluded" suddenly reminded me of everything I had been forgetting in Avignon. Secluded enough that we would take off our clothes, that we would do more than just that?!

Now, all four of us together? He knew that we had last year; did he want to with us? I was pretty sure Anna and Marge wouldn't have a problem with that. "Problem?" This was all about solving his "problem." Hmm! And Anna wanted to do it outdoors!

He found a secluded place. Someone would have to drive along the small road and see his parked car and then find us a hundred yards or so away in the shade of some trees. He spread out his blanket. It would really have been too small for all of us, even if Anna had been hoping we could sit closer together. We spread out our towels. 

As I was still wondering about clothes, he began to unbutton his shirt, remarking with a smile: 

"Don't think I always go nude, but after a few days, when I go back to work, it feels strange to have to wear a coat and tie."



Bastille Day Ch. 09



He found a secluded place. Someone would have to drive along the small road and see his parked car and then find us a hundred meters or so away in the shade of some trees. He spread out his blanket. It would really have been too small for all of us, even if Anna had been hoping we could sit closer together. We spread out our towels. 

As I was still wondering about clothes, he began to unbutton his shirt, remarking with a smile: 

"Don't think I always go nude, but after a few days, when I go back to work, it feels strange to have to wear a coat and tie."

Of course, we all also began to undress, smiling at him, as he began to open his trousers before he had taken of his shirt. Both blouses were off before anything else, Anna and Marge smiling as their breasts appeared, their nipples erect. He returned their smiles, adding: 

"Oh, sometimes at home - now alone - on weekends I forget to get dressed until I have to go out."

"I do too," I said, remembering write emails to Anna with nothing on. 

Even though we all had so much experience being naked together, it was still a little arousing to be immediately stripping of our clothes after a day among "normal people." My jockey shorts off, I automatically jostled my sack. I only realized what I had done when Anna smirked slightly. Nothing wrong with that, if we were all going to be nude again - and may not just nude?

Sans picked up his trousers and fished a pocket knife with a corkscrew out of a pocket. He had had another corkscrew before, wouldn't have missed the one he had brought to our place. While he opened the wine bottle - one of two, and again an unaccustomed sight - Marge unwrapped the cheese and sausage. He sat down with us, remarking: 

"Forgot plastic cups; we'll all have to drink out of the bottle." 

We all nodded. He held up the bottle and took a sip, handing it to Marge. As she drank, he opened his knife and began to peel and slice sausage. Marge passed me the bottle with a grin and began to break the baguettes. Anna was already grinning, when I passed it on to her. Sans was still slicing sausage, telling us to start, as he reached for the cheese. Anna offered him the bottle. He held it up again, looking around at us, and drank. We waited till he had put it down, Since I had paid for our repast, I said: "Bon appetit," and we all took something to eat. 

Sans returned to slicing sausage and cheese. When he had finished, he took another drink, passing the bottle again to Marge, and then looked up at the branches above us and said: 

"This is better than I hoped, with you, of course, but here, like this: 'A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou.' No book of verses, but the rest is appropriate."

"Very," Marge agreed, holding up the bottle and drinking.

"Omar Khayyam," Anna said with a pleased smile, receiving one from Sans - also from me, but she didn't notice. 

I drank and held the bottle out in her field of view. We ate and drank for another round in silence. Anna said a couple of words in German to Marge, who nodded with a chuckle and said: 

"A German expression when there is longer pause in conversation during a meal: 'a ravenous silence'."

We all chuckled, nodding. Sans nodded again and said to Anna: 

"And you like older men, father figures?"

I thought she blushed slightly, but it may have just been my imagination; her tan wouldn't have revealed a slight blush. When I heard her reply, I didn't dare look to see if she blushed more deeply:

"Just 'older men'; I have him."

I looked at Sans, seeing him suppress whatever expression he felt. Anna added: 

"They know," nodding at Marge and me, adding softly: "parents divorced."

I didn't look at anyone, wondering if Marge would try to fill in the silence. Sans did, very much to my surprise, murmuring softly: 

"My daughter too."

I ventured a glance at him and then at Anna, who looked very relieved. Marge remarked softly: 

"My brother too. He knows."

Anna hadn't, but glanced passed me at her with little smile. The three of us looked back at Sans. He snorted with a very wry smile and reached across and took the bottle and drank, smiling wryly again, looking at each of us. He murmured: 

"Never told anyone that."

Anna smiled slightly and replied: 

"After last summer. ... I hadn't thought till then that he - an older man - would still care, but then ..., well, then I did." 

She gave me a smile, that I returned, continuing:

"It just happened. Hmm? I guess I helped it happen. Been nice for us both."

Sans smiled with a nod, replying: 

"I can understand. It started the first time my wife was in a clinic. She had bad depressions. Oh, I wasn't entirely guiltless. Wrong word! Whatever. When she started to wear bras, I guess I said more about her growing up than maybe I should have, but she didn't mind, liked it, she later told me. Yes, we teased each other. No, I never saw her naked, just almost." 

He snorted with another wry smile, suggesting that he could be recalling something. Then he continued: 

When she was older, of course she was sleeping with guys. I don't want to know when she first did, probably younger than I want to think. Anyway, when my wife was in the clinic - she was at university, but then came to stay at home, still studying. Had we been teasing again? Don't think so. The second evening, she just asked me if I wanted her to sleep with me."

He looked up with another wry smile and then took another drink from the bottle.

"Why not," Marge remarked softly, and reached for the bottle. 

Anna and I nodded while she drank and then passed the bottle to me. I drank and passed it to Anna, who had to tilt it up to empty it. We all snorted, ostensibly at her having emptied the bottle, but, of course, more at the unexpected revelations of three incestuous relationships. I felt obliged to say something and remarked:

"Mom was the only female in my family, and - love her as I did - well, you understand."

The others nodded. Sans smiled and said: 

"We still do, but now she is married and has two children; few visits when we can. Hm-hmm! Part of my 'problem', liking younger women."

We all nodded with more relaxed smiles. Without asking if we wanted more to drink, he reached for the second bottle and his knife with the corkscrew. It wasn't a Swiss officer's knife, of course. I now recalled that I had seen it advertised in various versions: a French knife with a curved handle.

We all had drunk more or less than a quarter of a liter, he maybe more, when he admitted that he slept with his daughter, but it had been a hot day. We all drank more than a sip when the bottle was passed, still silent after his last remark. 

Suddenly Marge snorted with a grin and said something in German, obviously to Anna, who then snickered, grinning back. Sans and I looked at them with quizzical expressions. Marge grinned again, nodding to Anna, who almost laughed. I asked her: 

"Okay, what did that mean?"

Her nipples popped out - or maybe they had before. She giggled, looking again to Marge for support, and said: 

"She asked if this isn't when the ... girls ..." Marge interjected: "Milkmaids."

" ... when the milkmaids on the summer pastures attack the first man they see."

We all laughed, almost too heartily, either from the wine or because it had been in the back of our minds all along. Sans smirked and asked with feigned innocence: 

"Do they?"

We laughed again, and Anna said something in German. Marge nodded, snickering with a grin and explained: 

"Bavarian dialect: On the pastures in the Alps there is no sin."

"Where those milkmaids are?" he asked again with a feigned innocent expression, then grinning and asking: 

"And the men have to let them?"

"Sounds like something from Peer Gynt," I remarked.

Anna nodded vigorously with a grin, pleasing me, that she apparently also knew Ibsen's play. Marge also nodded, but to Sans, and said: 

"Only if they want to, or can't escape."

"Hm-hmm! Why would they want to? I mean: want to escape?" he asked.

"I bet they never do," I replied with a smirk.

He smirked back, snickering, and asking - glancing at Marge and Anna: 

"But what do the milkmaids do if they catch one?"

Marge chortled with a grin and replied: 

"Milk him, of course!

We laughed even louder than before. Anna caught her breath, grinning, and asked him:

"Want me to show you how?"

She leaned forward and stretched out her arm and grasped his cock, already a good handful for her. 

That was the end of our so delightful, verbal foreplay, but the beginning of what we all had been anticipating since we took off our clothes. Anna moved closer to him, and Marge, to me, grasping my cock with a grin and wink. It was only a few moments before our cocks were completely aroused. I was watching what Anna was doing, just feeling that mine was in Marge's hand. His and my eyes met, and we exchanged grins. Then Marge snickered and said: 

"And sometimes they milk them like calves and lambs would, or - hm-hmm! - in their own special way."

They soon were emulating calves or lambs, and then we were lying on our backs with them enjoying themselves and delighting us with the way they moved their hips, while we aroused their nipples. Sans and I glanced over at each other with grins.

Then I forgot him and Anna; Marge dropped down on me and wanted her nipples sucked, and then to have her tongue in my mouth, and we fucked - with my finger also arousing her. The sound of their hips slapping together reminded me for a moment that they were also there, but I forgot them again when Marge's clutching muschi began to milk me, then only aware of the wet sounds we were making. 

When we had recovered a little, I remembered them again and looked over, seeing Anna lying flat on him, her legs extended, the back of her head to me on his shoulder. She was still breathing deeply with soft moans. So was Marge, but then she raised her head and smirked, and then also glanced over at them, turning back to me with a pleased smile and murmuring: 

"This is more fun than last year."

I nodded, replying: 

"And much wittier, your milkmaids."

"Um-hmm. Weren't we good ones?"

"You have to ask?"

"No!" She gave me a brief kiss.

Sans chuckled. I glanced over again and saw him rubbing Anna's back, as he remarked: 

"Very good milkmaids, this one especially. No! Both of you, just didn't know Marge was one last night."

She chuckled and sat up, my cock slipping out, and replied: 

"No, last night, waiting at your door, I suddenly wondered if call girls' nipples were as aroused as mine were when they went to meet someone."

"You aren't a call girl," he replied emphatically."

"No, but when it got good, I suddenly wondered if I could be one."

"Hmm? I wouldn't know. I prefer milkmaids, just innocently doing what nature wants them too."

"Oh, that's me!" Anna remarked cheerfully, rolling off him and smiling at us.

We all chuckled. Then she clutched her thighs together and said: 

"Oooh, I've got to go."

"We all do," I replied. 

Marge nodded, and we all got up. Sans raised his eyebrows questioningly. Marge snorted and said: 

"Anywhere; we've all done it together."

"I guess so," he responded with a chuckle. 

We all turned and took a step or two away from the blanket and our towels and did. When we turned back, exchanging wry smiles, he asked: 

"Finish our 'loaf and jug of wine'?"

"Maybe we want a midnight snack sometime, just the wine?"

"Good idea. I'm driving." 

He picked up the bottle and handed it to her. She looked at how much was left and drank her share. I drank what I hoped was half of the rest, and Anna emptied the bottle. We gathered up the rest of the food and got dressed. On the walk back to his car, Anna, walking at his side, ahead of us remarked: 

"That was the best picnic I ever had."

"For me too," he agreed, turning his head to give her a smile, then chuckling and adding: 

"And now you've done it outdoors."

She nodded, returning his smile. Marge and I also exchanged smiles and nodded. As we were about to get in the car, he snorted with a smile at me and said: 

"We didn't do it quite right. You and I should have kept our clothes on first, like Manet's painting, 'Picnic in the Park.' 

"But only 'first'," Marge replied with smile. Anna grinned and said: 

"But then we could have had fun undressing you."

We all chuckled and took our places in the car. On the drive back, we thanked Sans for his tour of Avignon, and the three of them thanked me for our late lunch, not without good chuckles. When he had parked the car, he suggested that we take the food, explaining: 

"Marge knows there aren't enough chairs in my place."

She nodded with a smile, and Anna and I nodded, exchanging smiles, liking his assumption that he could join us for a midnight snack - and anything, everything that could include. No need to count chairs, I thought. As we walking back, he said: 

"I don't want to - not after today - but I think I should have dinner with some of the natives. Oh, they have been wondering about you three."

He snickered and gave me a smirk, adding: 

"Maybe wondering what you have - well, they can see that - what you do to have two attractive women with you."

Marge and Anna smiled at his compliment, giving me a moment to think, then replying: 

"You'll have to ask them, but I'm glad to have the assistance of a graduate of an agricultural college who knows what milkmaids do."

They all laughed, Anna and Marge looking at him with nods. I smiled, very pleased with the success of my remark, that it also clearly implied that his company was welcome. Still chuckling, we parted and went our respective ways. 

It was a little funny to see everyone else nude, but then we were back in our room and were again, still chuckling. 

"Milkmaids," I said with a grin.

"Need a shower," Marge replied.

"Both of them," I said, glancing at Anna, who grinned and replied: 

"Of course."

They glanced at each other and nodded, and were soon in the shower together, with me watching. Good thing that the bathroom floor had a drain. Maybe when the building was built, someone knew that there would be lots of showers with the curtain open.

It wasn't arousing to watch them, but entertaining, and they wanted it to be, not just for me to watch, taking turns grinning at me as they more than just washed each other's breasts, chuckling and exchanging pleased ooohs. When Anna tickled Marge with both hands, she squirmed, but didn't try to escape as her fingers found Anna's ticklish spots. Delightful to watch, but I wished that I had looked more to see how their breasts moved when they both squirmed.

When they started washing each other's pussy and asshole, they were just smirking at each other, apparently too engrossed with what they were doing to include me, but that was also nice to watch, letting me recall that they hadn't done anything with each other since the night before last.

Marge washed Anna's legs first, chuckling as she grasped her foot and began to tickle her sole, not relenting. Anna lost her balance, leaning in the corner of the shower as her leg jerked. This time I remembered to watch her breasts jiggle. She didn't let Marge lift her other foot up, and she didn't either, making Anna crouch down to wash her legs, providing me with another nice nude image similar to sketches by Degas or Renoir.

Watching naked women isn't voyeuristic, if one relates it to non-erotic art. Of course, it isn't, if they know you are watching. Or are all sketches and paintings of nudes erotic, voyeuristic? Probably; something to discuss with Sans. With these thoughts, I handed them their towels and then took my shower, which was much less entertaining for me and for them.

We went out, agreeing that we should have dinner and spend the evening with people from our group. On the way to find them, Marge snorted and remarked: 

"So they won't gossip too much about us."

"At least, not while we're with them," I replied.

"And only those who weren't at Cap d'Agde last year and know anyway," Anna added.

"I wonder how many do?" Marge asked.

"Or if Ron and Willy told them all; their girls knew?" I added.

"I doubt it," Anna replied: "Probably just their girlfriends, when they saw me with you."

We found some of the group at the bar. Did their smiles when they greeted us suggest that they had been wondering about us? If so, the men should have been envious of me.

At dinner, we sat at a larger table with two couples who hadn't been along the previous year, but they had, of course, heard that some of us had been and asked if we had. We spent the meal talking about Cap d'Agde without any references to sex, except to answer a question about what they had heard about the more liberal end of the beach, just telling that we had heard the same.

We agreed to spend the rest of the evening together, joining in the nightly entertainment program. 

After the entertainment, we said good night to the other couples and were about to return to our place, when Marge said: 

"Oh, I want to see the teenager disco."

We found it, discovering that they wore something around their hips. 

"Just as well," Anna remarked, seeing how young some of the teenagers were.

We agreed and I asked why Marge had wanted to see it. She chuckled and asked if we had read the website's information about teenagers. We hadn't. She snorted and said that she would show us later, that she had printed it. As we returned to our place, she explained: 

"Sounded like it is based on plenty of experience, but still pretty liberal." Glad we looked and that I remembered that I copied it."

Back in our room, she found a sheet of paper in her suitcase and handed it to us. It was in English - not a Google translation - and Anna had been right about the rules' being liberal. Marge and I chuckled as we read: "specially adapted supervision;" about respect; not doing anything previously agreed with parents; a buddy rule: two go, two return, or three and three; responsibility for what friends do; that provocative dress or actions could provoke "ambiguous reactions." 

We more than chuckled when we read that the curfew for "under 14s" was 12:30. Fourteen year-olds could stay till 2 am, 3 am on disco nights! I read that rule to Anna and remarked: 

"Sure isn't like in America."

"Nor Germany. Makes me feel old."

"Not like we are," Marge remarked, then chuckling and quoting the line that reminded that aids is still a fact, adding: 

"So, they can do that, if they want, if they have asked their parents, just be careful."

"Even the 14 year-olds?" I asked.

"If they had discussed it with their parents, I guess," Anna replied, adding: 

"Now in Germany they can - without asking. At least the law now says it isn't illegal if the partner is also not yet an adult, over eighteen."

"Really?! Hope their parents don't know!" I replied. Marge chuckled and remarked: 

"Very liberal, but very realistic. I didn't at that age, but might have a year or two later, especially if I been able to see how on internet."

"Like I did, but not that young," Anna replied with a grin. 

"Look or ...?"

"When I was seventeen, not just with Petra."

She took the paper back from me and said that she had to go, and we all did, using the toilet and doing the little nudists have to do to get ready for bed. Recalling that they hadn't slept together, I got in the far side of the bed, and Marge and Anna joined me in that order.

Curling up behind Marge, I reached over and held her breast, saying good night, and then reached past her and squeezed Anna's breast and said good night to her. They replied with nods, and my hand returned to Marge's breast, and we were silent. 




Bastille Day Ch. 09



Of course, I recalled our picnic with Sans, but fell asleep remembering our sightseeing in Avignon. One can't think about sex all the time, not when one has been enjoying so much of it, enough of it to fall asleep in bed with two women. Apparently, they both had also felt the same way, but that only occurred to me the next morning. 

When I woke up, Marge's arm was around me. I suddenly wondered if she had slept like this with a man - one man - as often as she had with me. I hadn't heard much about her sex life, other than about it with her brother. Anna had been sleeping with her father for almost a year, second weekends, two nights: more than forty nights. Lucky Papa, not that she now called him that. Incest is fine, but it's probably more comfortable to avoid references like that. What did Sans' daughter call him? Don't need names, when there are just the two of you. Could I ask him? What else was I going to ask him? Right, about voyeurism. "Hm-hmm!" Maybe when he got to see Anna and Marge together, like that or some other way.

My chuckle apparently stirred Marge. Her fingers moved on my stomach and then seemed to recognize where they were, sliding down, then clearly aware of where they were, exploring in my pubic hair. She snorted, now obviously fully awake, and her fingers found my cock, suddenly making me aware that it was sticking out, and aware that I had to go.

"Mmm? Already?" she murmured, grasping it.

"Got to go."

"Hmm! Men - always arousing false hopes."

"I doubt it - that you really think that."

"Hm-umm, no, just joking."

Then I was aware that Anna's hand was between Marge and me, feeling the back of her hand move as she held Marge's breast. Marge chuckled and added: 

"Nice, but I got to go, too."

"Me too, now, but it's still too early to get up," Anna replied, and I felt her hand fondle Marge's breast.

I slipped out from under Marge's arm, wondering if Anna's fondling suggested anything about what she wanted to do when we got back in bed. Since they both immediately followed me, I used the washbasin, one of them using the toilet, the other the shower, standing so that she wouldn't splash on her legs. Yes, Marge had told Sans that we had done it together.

We returned to bed after minimal washing, now with me between them, lying on our backs under the covers. Anna was the first to speak: 

"Oh, that was good yesterday, ... all of it, his tour of Avignon, too."

"Hm-hmm! Nice that you also remembered that," I replied.

"Of course! Didn't have to tell you that the other was good. Wonder how it would have started if Marge hadn't mentioned milkmaids."

"Oh, it would have, somehow," she replied with a chuckle.

"For sure, I could have reminded him that you wanted to do it outdoors, or that you got all aroused when Marge had told how good it was with him."

"I didn't! Maybe just a little, a lot more when we were talking about milkmaids."

"Not just you," Marge remarked. I snorted and said: 

"Or I could have told him about your liking being a nymph with a satyr."

"What's that about?" Marge asked.

Anna chuckled and told her about our conversation while she had been with Sans. Marge chuckled and reached down and fondled my soft cock, murmuring: 

"Hardly a satyr; at least not like the ones I have seen depicted."

"Enough of one for me," Anna replied, rolling on her side and also reaching down, then murmuring: 

"I thought so."

She fondled my balls. I chuckled and remarked: 

"I thought the saytrs always had to capture the nymphs, that they were shy, at least acted like it."

Marge also rolled towards me, snickering, but made a mistake, having to change hands on my cock; Anna's had quickly found it. Marge gave a soft, disgruntled snort and slid her fingers around my balls, then replying: 

"Oh no, that is just artistic convention: can't represent young girls to be enticing men; could give nubile daughters the wrong idea. Nymphs are all about sexuality and amorous freedom, men's fantasies, in contrast to how they want their daughters to be."

"Or maybe how they really would like them to be in their most intimate fantasies," I suggested in respect to Anna's incestuous relationship. 

She squeezed my cock and nodded, murmuring: 

"That sounds psychologically more likely; Sans' daughter too."

Marge and I nodded, and for a few moments we all enjoyed what their hands were doing, my cock responding. Marge scratched behind my sack on the now stiff base of my cock and snorted, nodding again. She murmured: 

"Maybe more like a satyr, ... and since we know that neither nymphs nor milkmaids .... No, since we know that nymphs and the proverbial milkmaids are both all about sexuality and amorous freedom ...."

She left her sentence unfinished, inviting Anna or me to respond. My cock twitched; Anna - milkmaid or nymph - had touched it where it was most sensitive. She chuckled and murmured: 

"We'd better prove it then; ... we can't get up and go to breakfast and spend the day just thinking about it."

"Oooh, no! I would have lover's nuts." 

Marge snorted with a nod and squeezed my balls very gently. Anna asked:

"What's that?" 

"When a man - or satyr - is aroused for a long time, till his balls ache for relief."

"Oooh! That happens? We wouldn't want that!"

"Me, especially." 

We all snickered. I asked: 

"Don't nymphs have the same problem?"

"Oh yes, just feels different," Marge replied.

"Maybe like I feel right now, and it would get worse;" Anna said, chuckling and adding:

"Have to go somewhere and do it by myself."

"Me too," Marge agreed brightly."

"And not let either of us help?"

"Much better if you would."

We chuckled again. Of course, we all knew that the three of us could have oral sex in a triangle. Soixante-neuf: could there be a three digit number to suggest that? Have to ask Sans. Anna answered the question of which of them would suck my cock, murmuring: 

"I'm not going to let go of it."

That was fine with me; I had licked her pussy/muschi the night before, and Marge's was just as delightful to arouse, and just as gratifying. And - I would never tell Marge - having Anna suck my cock was always a special treat. We were already moving around, while these thoughts went through my mind. Anna didn't let go of my cock, until she felt Marge's head on her thigh, and then it was in her mouth. By then, my head was on Marge's thigh. 

I just love pussies, with my cock in one, of course, but almost as much delighting in exploring one with my tongue and tasting that it is aroused. And having my cock in the mouth of someone who so enjoyed sucking and licking it was as good as having it in a pussy. Anna did! 

I have to admit that is even better when I am not distracted by my enjoying arousing a pussy with my mouth. One has to make some sacrifices in life. 

But was only a minor sacrifice, and I only knew it was one because both of them had spoiled me that way. I hoped that I had also spoiled them as good, and did my best to spoil Marge again, confident that she was trying to do the same for Anna, who certainly was for me.

We all were successful. Their moans shifted from the ones I knew from their pleasure at sucking my cock to those I heard when they were about to have their own orgasms. Then Marge lost control of her already twitching hips, and her pussy flooded my face; and my throbbing cock spurted in Anna's so eager mouth, again when she bit me; but that only confirmed that she had lost control, that Marge had also given her a good orgasm. I had come as good as I could - thank you, Anna! 

We gasped and moaned. I licked up more of Marge's love juice, and I assumed that she was doing the same, as I heard and felt Anna's "uhn-hnn," whose tongue then caressed my cock. We all rolled back, and hands were fondling breasts, finding other hands and also fondling their fingers. I blinked my eyelashes free of Marge's juice, seeing that it was lighter in the room. I assumed she had done the same when she murmured: 

"Mmmm, sun's up."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, adding: "now that I can open my eyes. I love it when you come like that, and my lashes get stuck together."

"Hmmm! Thanks! They should have been, like mine also were."

"Because you made me come so good; just like I was hoping," Anna remarked softly.

"Not better than you made me, thank you," I replied.

"Mmmmm! Just like I wanted.

I fondled her breast. We all chuckled. Marge snorted and murmured: 

"Nymphs and a satyr; wonder if the Greeks considered that the nymphs could have almost as much fun without one?"

"Just 'almost', and not me, also not as a milkmaid."

I fondled Anna's breast again and replied: 

"My good luck, but also that you both like doing that as much as I do."

"And don't we?!" Marge replied, her hand finding mine on Anna's breast and then holding her other one.

"Next time," Anna agreed. 

"Um-hmmmm!"

We chuckled again. It seemed time to get up. I wondered what Sans would think, if he could see and hear us, but didn't say anything. Marge remarked: 

"May as well get up; I love to eat pussy - Anna's muschi especially - but breakfast is also nice."

Anna and I chuckled, as I fondled her breast again, and we all got up, smirking mildly at each other as we went to the bathroom. Anna sugguested generously that Marge and I could shower together. We did, after an embrace and chuckling kiss, hearing Anna's approving: 

"Um-hmm, what I would have done."

She got a good kiss from both of us when we were finished. Marge dried her hair, while I shaved, and Anna washed herself. It was still too early for breakfast, but we went out, joking softly about whether anyone who saw us together could or would imagine how we had been enjoying each other. We saw a few other people out before breakfast, nodding at them with smiles, then chuckling softly again as we wondered if their smiles suggested that they might. As Anna whispered: 

"If they do, I bet they're envious."

Marge and I agreed with nods. Then it occurred to Marge to show us where Sans-culotte's room was. She grinned at Anna and remarked: 

"In case you want to visit him."

"Only if he invites me," she replied, but her expression suggested that she hoped he would.

Marge led us there, pointing to his door, and then we turned to go to breakfast. After a few steps, we were surprised to hear his voice, chuckling asking: 

"Milkmaids or nymphs this morning?"

We stopped and turned back, returning his grin and greeting him. Anna grinned again and replied: 

"I think Marge was thinking more nymphs, just wondering if they really needed satyrs."

"Hmm? I won't ask - or try to answer. Anyway, nice to see you all again. Breakfast? ... What were you doing here?"

We three smirked at each other, glancing to see who should reply. Anna did: 

"Marge wanted to show me where you are staying."

He snorted with a grin, then scowling as he looked at Marge and asked: 

"And you didn't want to keep it your secret?"

"You wanted me to? After yesterday?" she replied with feigned surprised expression. 

He smiled at both of them and replied: 

"My second problem, if you know what I mean. Breakfast!"

We all chuckled and went to have breakfast. 

After we had sat down together, he told that the plans for the flash mob were almost settled. The bus from the naturist resort and necessary additional cars would not be able to park near the ten kilometer mark, but further back, still in view of the TV cameras following the leaders of the race. He wasn't sure there would be cameras waiting for them to arrive, but we would be near enough to walk closer to the mark. The resort insisted that some stayed by the bus to attract TV views of it with its name. Since Buffy had two bedsheet banners, one could call attention to the name of the resort on the bus and the other be nearer the ten kilometer mark.

"Where we will be," Anna remarked with a grin.

"And lots of other people, just not me," Sans replied, reminding us that his position didn't allow him to be seen as a naturist.

As we finished our meal, he said that he still had something to organize. I was surprised when Marge replied: 

"If you don't have anything to do after lunch, why don't you come by?"

He looked slightly surprised for just a moment, but then smiled with a nod and said that he he hoped that he could, then correcting himself: 

"Of course, thank you. A bottle of wine and the rest of a loaf?"

Marge nodded with suppressed grin - just a smile, like Anna's and mine. His smile was much the same, as he nodded and repeated: 

"After lunch."

We all nodded with suppressed smirks. I had to wonder a little that I was also so delighted at our agreement that his visiting us would be more than a bottle of wine and maybe eating the rest of the bread, cheese and sausage - hardly logical just after lunch. 

With a smile, he turned to go his way. We three looked at each other with smirks. Anna looked like she was already coming in her pants, but, of course, she wasn't wearing anything. Marge looked only slightly less - more reticently - enthused by the anticipation of his joining us in the afternoon. 

And me? Whatever would happen, it would also be enjoyable for me.

We managed to keep busy during the forenoon, but too often, when we exchanged glances, it was obvious that all three of us were thinking more about what would happen after lunch. At lunch, 

we couldn't politely refuse the invitation to sit with others from our group, but we three seemed to be saving our appetite for something else - and probably not just to finish the rest of the bread, cheese and sausage from our picnic. We saw Sans arrive, who gave a us smile and nod before joining French people at a table.

We recognized that he wouldn't be finished before we were, and that he would have to return to his place for the bottle of wine. That didn't lessen our anticipation, while we told the others about the plan for the flash mob. When we stood up, we saw his glance, returning his nod. 

Why was I so aware of my loose hanging balls as we left the restaurant? Was there a female equivalent of that? 

We returned to our place. As we started to remake the bed, we agreed to switch the sheets and with chuckles tucked the top sheet around the mattress. Marge laid out the rest of the bread, cheese and sausage on the desk. We all used the toilet and washed a little. Back in the room together, we all smiled wryly, a little sheepishly. We couldn't just stand there, waiting for him. We sat down where each of us had sat two days before, again exchanging wry smiles. 

After a few moments, Marge snorted and remarked: 

"I wonder if he feels like we do." 

"I hope so," Anna replied with slight smirk.

"He certainly did yesterday, maybe more than we expected, starting to take of his clothes," I said.

We all nodded and were silent again. Then I remarked: 

"And if he doesn't, it will still be nice, like it was two nights ago." 

Anna and Marge nodded, and we were silent again, so long that Anna looked at Marge and asked: 

"Do you think ...?"

Her question was interrupted by a knock on the door. We almost sprang up, and I opened the door. Sans greeted me with a smile and then Marge and Anna, who were crowding behind me and got kisses on both cheeks. Did he feel that their nipples were tight, when they brushed his chest? In his bag, bottles clinked; he was anticipating that we would be together long enough to enjoy a second one. He glanced at the bread, cheese and sausage and nodded with slight chuckle. Marge said: 

"Thank you again for yesterday, that was a delightful tour of Avignon."

Anna and I nodded. He also nodded with a twinkle in his eyes, replying: 

"And thank you - all of you - for making it a wonderful day," including Anna and me in his smile.

All of us smirked slightly, nodding. He reached in his bag and drew out a bottle, remarking: 

"Don't know if we really need anything to eat after lunch, but since you invited me, I think we can all enjoy a glass of wine."

We agreed, and he reached down in the bag again and found his corkscrew, this time the pocketknife. We three sat back down again, while he opened the bottle. He had forgotten to bring a wineglass, and Anna immediately offered him hers and hurried to the bathroom to get a glass from there. Did his eyes follow her? They should have; I knew it was a delightful view. She returned, and we all appreciated the sight of her, so obviously that her nipples popped out, which made it even better. He then also filled her glass and they sat down.

"Nice to be here again, cheers," he said, raising his glass, and we all drank, smiling at each other.

"And nice that you are," I replied, Marge and Anna nodding their agreement. Marge added: 

"Very. After last year, ... well, I wondered if we should risk trying to repeat such a good time. Of course, I knew it would be nice with you ..." glancing at me: "and with Anna, but not sure everything else could be so nice."

"I know what you mean," he agreed: "we're lucky that the route of Tour led us here, a very nice resort."

"Not just the resort," Anna replied, giving him a nice smile.

"That too," he agreed, returning her smile, then including Marge and finally me.

"Very," Marge added.

I nodded and raised my glass, glancing around at them, and we all drank again, relaxing back in our chairs, Anna and Marge on the small sofa. We were silent for a moment and then all had a sip, and were again silent. A wry smile passed over Sans' lips, and then he remarked:

"I wasn't going to ask, but suddenly last night I had to wonder what you three do together. Shouldn't have said that!"

Marge, Anna and I glanced at each other with slight smirks. Then Marge smirked more broadly at him and replied: 

"That's all right; why not, if you had to wonder?"

Anna and I nodded, exchanging smiles. He sniffed and replied: 

"Just couldn't imagine ..., well, ... hm? ... taking turns, of course, but just couldn't imagine one just watching."

"Hasn't happened yet," Anna replied with a grin, adding: 

"Oh, the first afternoon, Marge left us alone, and then two days ago, but then you found her, ... very fortu ..., what's the word?"

"Fortuitously," Marge suggested, nodding with a smile.

"Yes, like that, very fortuitously."

"Very," Sans agreed with grin, which the three of us returned, all of us chuckling.

Marge rubbed Anna's thigh and said: 

"And I told you already that I didn't suggest that Anna joins us just for him."

"Still one to just watch," he murmured.

Anna almost giggled and replied: 

"We wouldn't let that happen! Like this morning, soixante-neuf, well, soixante-neuf-neuf."

Sans chuckled with a grin, nodding. Marge and I also chuckled, and she remarked: 

"Maybe neuf-soixante-neuf, if that could be a better French expression, but she's right, no one has to just watch."

We all chuckled and drank more than a sip. Sans smirked and remarked: 

"And I always had thought that a ménage à trois - if you don't mind the expression - was only about a man with two women, like having two wives, not that they did anything together."

"So did I," I agreed: "but always wondering how they could be compatible just sharing him. Didn't think far enough, didn't know to."

"We didn't either," Anna and Marge agreed almost in unison.

"Sounds very compatible," he remarked softly.

"Yes, but not exclusively so," Marge replied, smiling at him, Anna also smiling with a nod.

We emptied our glasses and he refilled them, emptying the bottle. We drank again, a better sip. Marge's hand was still on Anna's thigh, just relaxed, lying there. Anna shifted her glass to her other hand and placed her hand on Marge's thigh, who glanced at her with a slight smile. I wasn't, however, expecting Anna's remark: 




Bastille Day Ch. 09



"It's nice with another girl, knowing exactly what it feels like. Oh, you both do it just as good, ... well, I'm sure you do too, Sans, but it's different, doing it and know what she is feeling." 

Sans also looked a little surprised at her remark, nodding slightly with an understanding smile. Marge also nodded, after glancing over at her She seemed to take it as encouragement to continue. Returning his smile, she wrinkled her nose and said: 

"Sometimes, when we're both doing exactly the same thing - also with Petra - it almost feels like I'm doing it to myself."

Marge nodded, smiling over at her, her fingers stroking the inside of Anna's thigh. Sans nodded slightly and replied: 

"I can imagine. Must be very nice. We'll never know, just hope we're making it feel good."

"Oh, you do, both of you," Marge responded, giving us both a smile. 

"Hm-hmm! Finally someone tells us," he replied, grinning at me and raising his glass.

We all drank, more than a sip again. Did we want to empty our glasses so that we could do something? Was Anna suggesting that she and Marge start together, and that Sans and I join in? When they lowered their glasses, they smiled at each other, and both their fingers were stroking the other's thigh. I was very aware of my cock, and it looked like Sans should be aware of his, fuller now. I didn't have to glance down to know that mine was. But he could see that it was. Was that why his eyes found mine, and he smirked slightly?

The two of us drank, and then Marge and Anna did, whose fingers had been creeping down between each other's thighs. We all smirked. Marge and Anna both glanced at me, Marge raising an eyebrow questioningly. Why couldn't they just say what they wanted to do, I thought. Why did they want me to suggest it? It was so obvious. I gave Sans a wry smile and said: 

"I think Anna has been talking about it too much, ... well, that they don't want to just talk about it."

Anna grinned with a nod. Marge's nod and smile were a little more reserved, but obviously agreeing. Sans snorted with a smirk and remarked: 

"Better finish your wine first." 

We all emptied our glasses, smirking again. I was nearest to the bed and stood up and flung back the covers. Marge's and Anna's fingers were exploring closer to the other's pussy, on the soft, sensitive skin there. Their fingers crept a little closer. They were looking at each other, exchanging a soft "um-hmm," and their thighs twitched.

Sans and I exchanged glances, as they stood up and moved onto the bed, unhesitatingly lying down head to foot - no, head to pussy. Sans gave a soft "uhn," as they curled up together, then murmuring: 

"Lovely."

"Um-hmm, better than any picture."

"Um-hmm. You know the one by Courbet of two girls lying sleeping?"

"Um-hmm! Must have upset the public back then."

"Yes, and especially - well, maybe not - those who saw one girl's earring and comb further down the bed."

"Really? I'll have to find it again. Not much question about what they had been doing."

Anna and Marge were enjoying themselves - each other - ignoring our soft conversation. Sans glanced at them, nodding and replying:

"Our milkmaids or nymphs, when a hunter or satyr doesn't happen along. ... Are we just going to watch?"

His cock didn't look like it wanted just to watch, and mine didn't either. I asked in reply: 

"Voyeurs?"

"Hmm! A lot better than in gallery or museum."

"I was thinking about that this morning, watching them in the shower: is one a voyeur if she - they -- know one is looking, if one isn't aroused and compares her - them - with a work of art?"

"Hmmmm, weak excuse for not being one. ... Are we just going to be voyeurs?"

Our cocks were rising to the horizontal, and when we looked at each other's, they twitched and climbed higher with each heart beat. We snorted, grinning at each other. I shook my head and replied:

"I don't think they want us to be."

They were listening! Both of them nodded with an emphatic "uhn-hnn!" Did they both wiggle their asses? Anna had, and I was in the better to position to curl up behind her, moving first - in case Sans didn't know how we were going to join them. He did. Marge was urging my cock to find Anna's pussy, as he settled behind her. 

God, it feels good to feel it slip into an already slippery muschi! And feel it tighten on it! And to feel Marge's hand hold my hip and draw it closer, then seeing Anna's hand draw his closer. Would they try to do the same to each other, so that it felt like they were doing it to themselves?! Could it, would it, with a cock also in their muschis?

Whatever they were doing, Marge was arousing Anna's, and it was arousing my cock. It was easy to imagine how it was feeling for Sans' cock in Marge's pussy - just as good! Sort of like Anna had said about sixty-nine with Marge or Petra, but I wasn't sucking his cock. Would I want to do that?! Forget it; enjoy what Anna's pussy was doing, trying to milk my cock - definitely a milkmaid! 

A few minutes later, it did: four hips twitching involuntarily, as we all moaned, and Sans and I grunted, and our throbbing, thrusting cocks spurted our love milk in their flooding pussies. 

Okay, I only could assume that his had too, but his grunts and the strong thrusts of his hips couldn't allow any other assumption. As we were recovering, he murmured: 

"Mon Dieu! That was good! ... No more questions about what you three do together."

I saw Anna nod and felt that Marge did both humming an "um-hmm," nodding myself, having to wonder at my good fortune with them. I replied:

"My pleasure to share with you, ... I think theirs, too."

Anna and Marge both nodded strongly, chuckling. Marge agreed: 

"Definitely!"

Sans snorted and rolled back, and I did the same, my cock slipping wetly out of Anna's pussy. Marge's must have been just as wet; Anna remarked softly: 

"Oooh! It must have been good," and turned her head deep between Marge's thighs. 

She must have been licking up what she had seen running out her pussy. Marge chuckled and murmured: 

"Same here."

It's nice to know that one has come so good that it's flowing out, and even nicer to know that the women one has shared sex with wants to taste it, even if one didn't come in their mouth, even if it was oozing out of another woman's pussy. Anna chuckled softly. She rolled back, and Marge also did, Sans and I making space for them also to lie on their backs.

We all chuckled. As I wondered how Sans was thinking about what we had invited him to join, I noticed that Anna's hand had found one of Marge's breasts, just holding it, and then that Marge's hand reached over and fondled one of Anna's. They both chuckled again, and Sans did, then remarking: 

"I don't think I have any problems now. Don't know how to thank you for solving them."

"Hmmmm! You don't need to," Marge replied. 

He chuckled. I raised my head and saw that Marge's other hand had found his cock. Anna didn't have to raise her head to see, chuckling and finding mine with her other hand, remarking: 

"You don't, and she is right."

He - and then we - chuckled again, and he replied: 

"Well, then, still thank you. ... I don't think they will return. Hm-hmm! Not here for the next few days, I hope."

I snorted and said: 

"I doubt it. I'm pretty sure they won't - can't."

"Um-hmm," Anna and Marge agreed cheerfully, and Anna fondled my cock and balls. My hand found her pussy, and his, Marge's. 

I didn't have to raise my head to know that Marge was also fondling him; he chuckled and murmured: 

"Not if one of you always wants to do that."

"Not me," I replied, and we all chuckled again.

We were silent for a few moments, while their hands fondled, Anna's more purposely. When my cock responded, she chuckled and squeezed it, rubbing her hand up and down. Then she turned her head towards Sans and hummed. I raised my head and saw that his cock was also more than filling Marge's hand. My head dropped back, and I wondered what they would want to do next, obviously something, our cocks both were showing that they did. But I was surprised when Anna looked over again and murmured: 

"I want to finish what I started yesterday."

She squeezed my now stiff cock, but she was looking at his, and her hand then released mine, and she reached over Marge and began to move to clamber over her. Marge chuckled and gave a feigned disappointing sounding hum and said: 

"But I wanted to."

"I said so first," Anna replied with a snicker and continued to move, swinging her leg over both of them, giving them both a view of her pussy. Marge then also snickered and said: 

"If you insist. I didn't yesterday, either."

We all chuckled again, and then Anna was straddling Sans, and Marge and I were rolling together. Between her thighs, I saw Anna grasp his cock and its aroused head disappear in her mouth, as I felt mine slipped between Marge's. "Mmmm!" 

Then I was trying to distract her - and myself - from what she was doing. She let me, nodding with a hum that I more felt than heard. After a few moments, I remembered Anna and Sans and opened my eyes, glancing over and seeing her head moving on his cock. Like before, I could imagine just too well what he was enjoying. Not just his cock; licking her pussy was also a pleasure, as was licking Marge's. My eyes closed, and I forgot about them again, maybe because Marge's fingers were finding my asshole. Mine found hers.

When I felt movement on the bed, I opened my eyes again, and saw that Sans and Anna were rolling onto their sides, away from us, and that Anna's hand was immediately sliding around his hip, her fingers creeping into his crevice. Had his found hers first? Didn't matter; we all knew what was good, and Marge had told us that he liked that too. 

Enough thinking about them! Enough thinking that I wanted to distract Marge! I wanted her to make me come in her mouth and wanted to make her pussy let me taste her love juice! 

She did, I did, and it was apparent from the accompanying sounds and motions that Anna and Sans also did. We all moaned and sighed. I felt that Marge swallowed and opened my eyes again and saw Sans roll back towards us, his cock slipping from between Anna's lips. I rolled back, and mine slipping out of Marge's mouth. I fondled her breast, and we all sighed with a few more soft, satisfied moans.

What does one say after that? Congratulations that everyone had a good orgasm? That one hoped that everyone else had had as good a one as one had enjoyed? Stupid, trite; we all knew that. I didn't say anything, just fondled Marge's breast to confirm that I had. Then Sans snorted and remarked: 

"I am going to have a problem when I get back home, a much worse one after this."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, thinking that I would too, hearing Marge's and Anna's similar responses. Then Anna chuckled and murmured: 

"But only when you get back home."

"Won't we all," Marge murmured, and we all agreed with an "um-hmm."

"But only then," I remarked, and the others agreed again, then chuckling at our confirmation that we were going to continue to enjoy each other's company for the rest of our vacation.

"Um-hmm," we agreed again and were silent for a few moments, until Anna remarked: 

"Oooh, I've got to go." 

She sat up, looking down at us with a wry smile. Of course, then we all felt the urge. As she got up, I rolled to the edge of the bed and stood up, and Marge and Sans followed us. In the bathroom; I drew Anna into the shower with me. She smirked with a nod, and we both were going when they joined us. Sans snickered and remarked: 

"Haven't done that with my daughter, ... yet."

We three chuckled. Marge sat down on the toilet and gestured for him to use the washbasin. He did, washing, also his face, and then Marge washed, while Anna and I rinsed out legs with the shower head on the hose. I held the shower head, letting her wash, and then washed my cock and balls and face. We all dried ourselves, exchanging smirks and chuckles, and returned to the room. 

Sans remarked: 

"Now I am ready for some cheese and sausage. Also more wine?"

We three smiled and nodded, and I remarked that I hoped we weren't raiding his supply. He shook his head as he started to remove the foil from the bottle, replying: 

"More than I expected, but now I know why I brought more than I knew I would drink, and I am very glad that I did."

He grinned at us in turn and began to use his corkscrew, then holding the bottle between his thighs, just below his cock, now too familiar to find unusual. He eased the cork out the last bit, sniffing it, before he refilled our glasses. Marge took his knife and began to slice sausage and cheese, while Anna broke pieces off the the baguette. We all found our glasses and raised them and drank, and then found something to eat, sitting down where we had before.

Exchanging smiles, we ate and drank. After we had taken more to eat, Sans said: 

"After lunch tomorrow, there is going to be a meeting to organize the big event on Sunday. We're - no, I won't be along - there are going to be more people than the resort bus can take, but others have cars. Sorry that I can't be along, but you understand. The bus driver will keep your ID, and everyone can leave their clothes in the bus."

"Sounds well planned," I remarked.

Marge and Anna nodded with smiles, and we all raised our glasses and drank. He chuckled and added: 

"But I am sure all of us here will be watching for you on TV."

We all chuckled, and I suggested that they also follow the race on live stream, in case the TV station didn't want to show a bunch of nudes. He nodded with a grin, and we all drank again.

We had no difficulty finishing the food and wine, enjoying talking about how nice the resort was and how lucky we were that the Tour de France had brought us together there. We shared appropriate smirks at the mention of our being together. Then it was time to think about how we would spend the rest of the afternoon. Sans said that he thought he should check his emails and his ministry's website, suggesting that we part. 

"After dinner?" Marge asked.

"The night?" Anna added with a sweet smile.

"Tempting, but better not; you know, my neighbors," he replied, returning her smile.

"But we don't want you to have a problem," she replied.

"Only when I get home, ... worse than it was before."

"We hope so," Marge replied with a grin. He and Anna and I nodded with smirks. When he started to get up, we all did, thanking him for the wine and for his visit - not without more smirks. He thanked us for inviting him and departed.

The three of us looked at each other, smiling a little wryly as we chuckled. Marge remarked: 

"This is being better than I had hoped, ... not that I wasn't sure it would be good with just you two."

"Oh, it was, but I agree," I said: "... and is better, not that I can enjoy it like you two can."

"Um-hmmm!" Anna agreed, smirking and adding: 

"Just like Marge said, but I don't mind admitting that it is very nice with him, ... a lot nicer than with Ron and Willy last year. ... Didn't think I would want a foursome again, but he is much better company."

"Hmm! When you're talking," I replied with a grin.

She looked slightly abashed, and Marge nodded with a smirk, but then added in a conciliatory tone: 

"But I agree." 

Anna smiled with a nod and after a moment replied: 

"If you don't mind, I want to sleep with him tonight, ... just to talk."

"If you want to, ... even if you don't just talk," Marge agreed with a smile. 

I nodded, liking that Anna's nipples were erect, and agreed, smiling at Marge: 

"Sounds like a good idea, just don't wake his neighbors with all your talk." 



Bastille Day Ch. 1



The fervor rises as a third prisoner is ceremoniously hoisted over the square. Drawn to this spectacle, Monica reacts as one of the throng, hooting and jeering as the ragged, emancipated men hang above them. The huge Master of Ceremonies bellows over the din, "Perhaps our Lord and king will save this child murderer from the sharp end of the guillotine". He pauses, gauging the response of the gathered thousands... "Perhaps Not" he laughs.

She is one with them, her voice and blood rising with theirs, a sheen upon her skin as bodies press about her. Conscious, as she is shouldered and tussled about, that some hands move over her with intent. Outwardly ignoring the fleeting grasps at her skirts. But privately, growing more and more aware of her body's reaction to the excitement, as it instinctively moves back or presses forward against open hands and errant fingers. She continues to make her way closer to the platform.

A reed caught in the swell of fast rising water, she pushes herself onward. Wanting, needing to be closer. To see the anguish in these men's eyes; to watch as their look shifts to a brief, yet brilliant flash of hope as the moment looms ever closer; to witness the final, dry, distant look as all faith is crushed. Replaced by an overwhelming realization of doom.

Finally slipping softly between two large men, smiling up at one as she achieves her destination at the edge of the podium. Her timing is perfect. All eyes turn and voices erupt as the fourth and final candidate rises up behind the stage... his body lurching and tossing about as the crude pulleys propel him forward.

"or will our gracious lord have mercy upon this soul-less one? One known to the church as a proponent and master of the black arts?" The crowd stills as thousands of minds take in the meaning of these few words... then erupts again as the speaker chortles "would you?"

She laughs and rejoins her voice to the crescendo as she looks up at the new one... 

Her voice falters... she looks away, wincing as if struck a blow. Breathing deep, she stares into the wooden floorboards before her. Then, recomposed, her eyes move slowly upward and back to his.

These are not the eyes of the damned. Nor are they the eyes of one with false hopes. They are bright and pure, life flowing from them: true and unbridled life. Her head spins slightly, the ground tilting upward toward her. Her cheeks flush, hotly. A hollowness consuming her as she reaches out, steadying herself. Her world shaken at the thought that this man is slated for death. Her body slumps forward against the platform. Head resting on folded arms. She looks wholly into his grey-green eyes as they gaze back at her...through her... 

Hope springs within her... she stands up. Strength flows through her. Her young body taut. Her back arcs like a bow. She lifts her hands. Cups them about her mouth and, with all of her lungs, all of her heart, cries out ... 

"Free him. Oh God, free him!"



Bastille Day Ch. 10



Anna smiled with a nod and after a moment replied: 

"If you don't mind, I want to sleep with him tonight, ... just to talk."

"If you want to, ... even if you don't just talk," Marge agreed with a smile. 

I nodded, liking that Anna's nipples were erect, and agreed, smiling at Marge: 

"Sounds like a good idea, just don't wake his neighbors with all your talk."

We all chuckled with more smiles and then cleaned up the crumbs. Marge washed the glasses, while Anna and I straightened up the bed: "for you two," she murmured with a smile across the bed as we tucked in the sheet. 

It's unimportant how we spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening. At dinner, we split up, Anna and Marge sitting at a table with Germans. Ron and Willy beckoned for me to join them and their girlfriends. 

I had to survive some friendly remarks about our ménage à trois and hear what others had said about us, but it was also a bit flattering. I wondered if Marge and Anna were hearing much the same. I responded by saying that it was all better than last year and - with grins at their girlfriends - that I hoped it was for them all too. The men agreed, of course, and then we talked about the flash mob. They had heard about the meeting the next day. Their friends admitted that it was the first time they had been to a nude resort and that they could never have imagined that naturism was so popular, even families with children of all ages, especially teenagers. We all agreed that we would have had a problem with it at that age, sharing smirks. 

After dinner, I joined Anna and Marge again and heard that they also had heard somewhat veiled remarks about the three of us. We joined in the evening entertainment. Anna was looking around to see if Sans was there. I chuckled and said that he was probably still reading his emails. 

"Or waiting to be surprised," Marge added with a smile.

Before the program ended, Marge whispered to her that it was a good time to beat the crowd. She nodded and asked again if we didn't mind. I urged her to stand up, sliding my hand down to pat her bottom, when she did. She slipped away, and Marge moved closer to me, murmuring with a snort: 

"Just one-on-one, ... if you don't mind?"

""Hm-hmm! I think I can, maybe better than ..."

Someone behind us shushed, and we watched the rest of the program in silence. Back in our room, we used the bathroom and went to bed, agreeing that we didn't have to do anything, and didn't, falling asleep, hardly touching each other in the double bed.

Towards dawn, however, we had gravitated together, still sleeping soundly; it's just so comfortable to have one's arm around a woman in bed, and by then it was so familiar that I didn't need a dream to make sense of the sensation of a warm body close to mine. That, however, didn't keep my cock from appreciating that it was there, as I discovered, when I was awakened by hearing the door open.

Anna, of course, I immediately recalled, confirmed when she murmured: 

"Oh, hope I didn't wake you, ... or disturb anything, if you were already."

"Yes and no," Marge replied, and then chuckled and added: 

"Didn't disturb us yet, but it could have, if we had woken up sooner."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, rocking my hips.

"Um-hmm," she agreed, rocking hers back against me.

"Oh, that's good. Hm-hmm! But since I didn't, and if you want to, I could help; ... we didn't do anything this morning."

"Not even talk?" Marge replied with a chuckle as she held up the covers on her side of the bed.

"Tell you later," Anna murmured as her head disappeared under the covers in the direction of Marge's pussy. She raised her thigh and head. Anna's thigh slid under her head, and then her hand found my cock, not as stiff as it had been, but she knew what to do about that. As I moved down the bed a little, her lips slipped around its head. 

"Mmmm!" I moaned softly, as Marge dropped the covers and drew Anna's hips closer and buried her face between her thighs. Anna had to suck and lick for only a few moments to bring my cock back to full erection - very pleasant moments, but only a prelude to how it was going to feel in Marge's pussy. I wondered if Anna preferred to suck it or to arouse Marge's pussy. But she also loved to do that, sharing the sensations that only two women can enjoy together. 

My cock slipped from her mouth, and her tongue guided it to Marge's opening. I rocked my hips forward, and it slid in. Marge and I both moaned, and I moved to press it deeper in her pussy, and we moaned again, as she contracted on it. My cock twitched, but I held still, knowing that Anna was going to arouse Marge, that her pussy was going to respond to what she was beginning to do on her clitoris. They both moaned, and I did, my cock twitching again in another contraction.

Did men in societies that allowed two or more wives enjoy having sex like this?! Not from anything I had read. If not, their bad luck. 

"Mmmm!" Anna's hand was sliding over my hip; she wanted to do that too. "Oooh!" My asshole tightened, and my cock surged. I tried to relax, just enjoying the arousing sensations they were both giving me, but my cock and asshole were responding. And they each responded with a pleased-sounding "um-hmm," finger and pussy also responding. Why couldn't sex always be like this?!

I fondled one's and the other's breast, encouraging them to arouse each other, passively delighting in how I was also being aroused. 

I could have waited forever to have my orgasm, but too soon their moans and twitching hips indicated that they wanted theirs, especially the repeating clutches of Marge's pussy on my cock. She wanted hers, and now my throbbing cock wanted mine, my hips also having to twitch. Fuck! I did.

"Uhn-un-un!" Marge groaned, as her hips and pussy responded more strongly. I could only hope that it was also being as good as it could be for Anna - Marge's responsibility. But Anna was doing what she could to help make it good for us; her hand encouraging my hips to move, and her finger doing all it could.

"Uhnnn!" I groaned, feeling my arousal pass the point of no return. Another thrust, and another, and with a grunt I spurted, and again. Could Marge feel it in the pulsing contractions of her pussy? It seemed like it; she gave a shivering moan, and her body jerked, as I spurted again and again, feeling her warm pussy juice wet my balls and heard Anna moan in appreciation. Then she moaned differently, a pure reflex, as her body quivered, and I heard very wet noises from what Marge's tongue was doing, whose pussy was still contracting, although my hips were now still, but not my still twitching cock. Anna gasped and moaned, again and again, as Marge continued, moaning herself, now sounding pleased with what she must be tasting. 

Anna gasped and gave a final, pulsing moan and rolled back. The covers has long since slipped down off us. I rolled back, my cock slipping out, and move away so that Marge could also lie on her back. She rolled back and wiped her face. We all sighed with satisfied moans. They fondled each other's breasts. After a few moments, Marge murmured: 

"Nice that you came back when you did."

"Very!" I agreed.

"Hm-hmm! Sort of his idea, suggesting that you might need me."

I snorted and remarked: 

"Oh, it would have been good, but it was better with you."

"Um-hmm! Especially for me," Marge agreed, and we all chuckled.

"Oh, I didn't want to be the one to suggest it again."

"But you have to go?" I suggested.

We all chuckled again and trouped into the bathroom - toilet, shower, sink - and washed. When we returned to the bed, I was in the middle, my thighs spread and one of theirs resting on them, their hands on my chest. Anna remarked: 

"I like that he has hair on his chest, ... like my Dad."

"Sorry that I can't compete."

"Still nice."

"Um-hmm," Marge agreed, then asking: 

"And you just talked? You said you would tell."

"Hm-umm! Of course not, but we did talk. When I knocked, he opened the door with a big smile, saying that he had hoped I would come. Made me feel good; I was a little worried about how he would respond.

"His laptop was on, and he showed me that he had been watching a video of the Tour, wanting to see what was shown at the ten kilometers mark. He showed me: an inflated arch over the road and a few people watching, cheering when the leaders passed. Then we went to the bathroom and went to bed, just lying like this with my head on his shoulder, my fingers enjoying feeling the hair on his chest.

"Well, then they were somewhere else, just holding his balls. Oh, that's something I like about older men: they don't immediately think you want to do something when you hold them like that. It's just so nice and familiar. Maybe he is sort of father figure, ... more than you are."

"He's a little older," I remarked.

"But not too much," Marge responded.

We chuckled and Anna continued: 

"Maybe he was feeling a little like one. I was a little surprised when he asked if I had thought about sleeping with my father before last summer. I told him that I hadn't, that until last summer it hadn't occurred to me that I would want to, that he would want to, telling him that my parents were separated before I was thinking about sleeping with anyone, and then he wasn't around.

"He nodded, silent for a moment. I was gently fondling his balls, like I do his - my father's ..."

"And mine," I interjected.

"Um-hmm. 'Nice,' he murmured, and then surprised me again, admitting that it had started with Daphne - his daughter - before she was at university. He hadn't wanted to shock us before. She was still in school, but already eighteen, and he knew that she had already slept with boys. It was like he told us, just that she younger: their bantering about her figure; then his wife in the clinic; and Daphne's asking if he wanted to sleep with her. Oh, she didn't go away to university, studied at the Sorbonne, he admitted. I guess before he didn't want us to think they did it so much. But they did. 'Better than my honeymoon,' he said. When his wife returned, he thought it was over, but after a couple of nights, she came to his room. He and his wife already had separate bedroom, so it was easy, more often in Daphne's room, further down the hall."

Marge and I nodded, I thinking that it was very nice when fathers and daughters could share something so good with each other - or siblings, like Marge and her brother. Anna also nodded and continued again: 

"I told him that I thought that was nice, and then ..., well, I wasn't just fondling his balls, and we did, like we did on the other bed, like we did after our picnic. He loves it like that, what they do, too. She had showed him that girls also like to touch themselves, ... and where it also feels good. Oh, it was good!"

Marge and I snorted at her enthusiastic remark, nodding with smiles. Marge commented: 

"Not much of a father figure then."

"Hm-umm! Oh, she likes to do that to him, too. His wife did, but never really liking it."

"That's a pity," I remarked: "... but all the nicer that Daphne did, ... does."

"'Not often enough now,' he remarked when I said something like that. He said something nice about now not just having to think about her in his fantasies. So, we went to sleep, and this morning he almost apologized for suggesting that I come back before his neighbors knew I was there. I told him it wouldn't be the last time, ... if you don't mind?"

"Of course not," Marge replied, then snickering and adding: 

"If I can too."

"Both of you, if you want," I suggested with a snort: "... and I can finally get an undisturbed night's sleep."

"You really want one?" Marge asked with a grin.

"Well, just maybe; last night was pretty good."

We all chuckled, and they both fondled my cock and balls. I snorted and remarked: 

"Just an older man, not expecting that you want to do anything, ... hoping that it was good enough before."

"Oh, it was," they replied in unison, chuckling as they continued to fondle.

After a while, we got up and went to the bathroom. After a feigned argument about which of them would shower with me, I insisted on showering alone, as they watched. Then they showered together, while I shaved at the wash basin. Since I didn't need to use the mirror, I could watch them, enjoy watching their enjoying washing each other. They did, so much. that I suggested that they could go back to bed, while I went to breakfast. They snickered and agreed that that was a good suggestion, but they didn't, and we went to breakfast together.

Sans greeted us with just a slight smirk as he said that it was nice to see us again. During breakfast together with him, he explained that he wouldn't be at the meeting to organized the flash mob. When more people were in the restaurant, the meeting was announced. Without him, we spent a quiet forenoon sunning. After the way we had spent the early hours, I didn't have to play volleyball and watch girls' breasts jiggling and feel my cock and balls flopping - as delightful as that is. They seemed now to be longer and floppier that at home.

On our way to lunch, Marge glanced over at Anna's well-tanned breasts and suggested with a chuckle that she could use lipstick to make her pale nipples more apparent for the flash mob. I chuckled and suggested strawberry-flavored lipstick to make it more fun to suck them. We snickered and joined the line at the buffet.

At the meeting, we only learned the details to what Sans had already told us. Apparently, he had passed on my suggestion that non-participants watch both TV and the live stream on the Tour de France website. Ron and Willy showed us all their banners again. During the afternoon, Sans found us and said that he felt that he had to spend the evening with French people who knew who he was, mentioning that some guests would be leaving the next day, Sunday. We nodded. Marge smirked slightly and thanked him for his suggestion that Anna rejoin us. He smiled and replied that he hoped she had told us what she had replied. We nodded again with grins, and he left us.

At dinner and that evening, we spent the time with other Americans from our group. Some were enthusiastic about the project. A few, who had never been to a nudist resort before, were a little apprehensive about possibly appearing naked on TV. We told them that they could stand in the background. 

We went to the Saturday night dance, all wearing something around our hips. On the way back to our room, we chuckled about the strange sensation of dancing half naked with virtual strangers. A couple of women had held me closer and not minded when my hand or arm brushed their nipples when we were jitterbugging. 

"Just by accident?" Marge asked with a grin.

"Hmm! Not quite, ... after they had been brushing them on my chest. And you two looked like you were enjoying letting your partners feel yours."

"Um-hmm, why not, since you were. Maybe we shouldn't have danced so close with you at the start - giving them the idea."

"As if they needed inspiration," I replied, then snickered and added: 

"Even if they could only recognize Anna's nipples in profile."

She chuckled and replied: 

"Of course, they popped out, isn't that what they wanted to see?"

"And feel; sure looked like it with that younger man."

"Hm-hmm! And he wanted me to feel something else; good thing he wasn't naked."

We all snickered and then were back in our room, hurrying to the bathroom. In bed, between them, there was the obvious but unspoken question: would we do anything? I murmured: 

"I'm just going to lie here."

"Hmm? Not like that younger man; he asked if I was here with anyone," Anna remarked, then chuckling and adding: 

"I said I was here with Marge, but rubbed up against him. Surprised him, both ways, I think."

Marge snorted and replied: 

"Hope he found a girl who was alone."

"Me too, but it still felt good."

"And if you had been alone?" I asked.

"Hmmm? Maybe, felt good!"

"Uh-oh! I think she still does," Marge replied with a snort.

"Wouldn't you?"

"I didn't dance with him."

Anna's hand slid down and found my cock and balls, then just my cock, and it wasn't just enjoying that it was "nice and familiar" for it to be held, the way she had described fondling Sans'. She murmured: 

"But I did."

"Anything you want," Marge remarked softly in a resigned sounding tone, but then chuckled.

My cock was beginning to respond to Anna's purposeful fondling. I snorted and murmured: 

"I can't remember the last time I tasted a pussy, ... or whose."

"Mine," Anna responded immediately.

We chuckled. I wasn't sure she was right, but it didn't matter; if she wanted to do something with my cock, then I was happy to suck and lick Marge's pussy. She was too, chuckling again as she began to move up to straddle my face. Anna immediately began to move down the bed, my cock in her mouth before she was crouching between my legs. 

"Mmmm!" I hummed and then was guiding Marge's hips down on my face. Her pussy was still closed, and my tongue lapped down her slit, then pointed, it forced its way back up between them. Still just tasted freshly washed, but not after it had slid back down and up and then back down to her opening and probed in it - that delightful, tangy taste! Somewhere I had read that it was like licking the poles of a nine volt battery. Where? 

It gave me a charge - my cock in Anna's mouth - who was arousing it as though that was all she wanted to do. But, of course, she wanted more, maybe glancing up and seeing what I was doing for Marge, my tongue now rubbing back and forth over the hood of her aroused clitoris. It found more moisture - nine volts - at her hole and returned. 

Anna hummed, buzzing on my cock, making it twitch, and then released it. I felt her move up, her knees straddling my thighs and then moving further, Her hand pressed my cock back and found her opening. It must have been already wet; my cock slipped easily into the tight grip of her pussy, eliciting a moan from us both, and Marge also moaned. Of course, she could see what Anna was doing, if only as a shadowy figure in the dark. She couldn't have a cock in her pussy, but a finger arousing her other hole, and wanted me to try to arouse her as much as my cock was in Anna's pussy - and was being aroused.

Then I felt fingers finding Anna's clitoris. Whose? Anna's voice murmured: 

"Oh yes! Like that!" 

Marge's fingers, but it could only be Anna's that then found and held my balls, still able to move them. She moaned, and her pussy contracted, and my cock surged. A twitch of Marge's hips reminded me not to forget to arouse her. 

I did, trying to ignore the arousing sensations in Anna's pussy - just trying to! When they became even more arousing, I recognized that she was no long holding my balls, but her deeper moan and then the feeling of something else moving in her confirmed that a finger was in her asshole. Could I arouse Marge to come with her, with me?! Make Marge's pussy flood my face?! That tasted so good! 

It did, but not before Anna's twitching hips and quivering thighs and her gasps and groans gave us our orgasms. Then - in response - Marge's hips twitched, as she gasped and almost whimpered, and her pussy satisfied me - and her - with a strong shot of pussy juice - better than a shot of whiskey! And another one! Success! Total satisfaction! Exhausting satisfaction. Maybe those men who can have two wives shouldn't try to satisfy them both at once.

As I relaxed, I felt both of them lean forward and then heard a very moist kiss, one that continued. Nice, that they wanted to confirm to each other that it had been good. I reached up to fondle their breasts, but found a hand on them, on the other ones too. Their kiss stopped, and they chuckled as they let me slide their hands aside and squeeze their breasts. 




Bastille Day Ch. 10



"Um-hmm," they agreed and then moved off me. When they were lying beside me again, both their hands found my wilting cock and now very relaxed sack. We all hummed contentedly. After a few moments, Anna murmured: 

"I knew it would be better with you two, better than I hoped; thank you."

"You were really thinking about it with him?" Marge asked, saving me from saying something similar.

"Not really, just curious, since he suggested it - one of the Russians."

"Hmmm? 'Just curious,' of course," I replied: "... not that I can imagine they do it any differently."

"Of course not, and I didn't want to find out. 'Just curious.'"

Marge nodded and remarked: 

"Of course, and sort of flattering that he wanted to. Hm-hmm! But he didn't have hair on his chest."

"No, but I think he shaved it - a little prickly."

I chuckled and said: 

"No wonder your nipples popped out, but he was the wrong guy for you, if he thought that was attractive."

"Hadn't thought of that, so you're right."

We all chuckled and then decided to go to the bathroom again. Both of them used the toilet, and I, the washbasin, washing my face, and we returned to bed and got comfortable under the covers in the now cooler room, now with me behind Marge and Anna. Our hands reached down and rubbed the others' hip, and then Marge's found Anna's breast, and mine, hers. We said good night and were soon asleep.

In the morning, we didn't do anything, my erection just leading us to the bathroom. They chuckled as they watched my stream hit the far side of the shower. We showered individually and Anna shaved again. We laid out what we wanted to wear for the bus trip, remembering to put our ID and some money in a bag. 

At breakfast, there were the expected conversations about the flash mob, anticipatory excitement. Since we didn't have to leave until the afternoon, most of us watched the Bastille Day parade on the big screen that was usually used for showing DVD films. Those from our group who hadn't been along to Cap d'Agde were surprised to hear remarks about what had happened after the parade was over and even asked for more details, snickering when they heard. 

I suppose there are some naturists who never consider that going naked could have erotic undertones, maybe more who do but don't admit it. The instructions for teenagers about good behavior suggested that the resort management knew that many did. Since everyone in our group had met via Literotica, they all accepted that that having sex could be involved, some just surprised that it had been so open that day. 

Before lunch, Marge sent an email to her brother, telling him to watch the Tour de France on live stream. Anna sent one to her father, but rather expecting that he wouldn't find it. I didn't have anyone to whom I could reveal that I might appear nude.  

We survived! Sans bid us farewell, hoping we would return safely, and then we crowded in the bus and a few cars. As someone suggested during the drive, the police couldn't lock us all up. When we got to the 10 km mark we piled out, still dressed, but ready to "drop drawers," as a Brit said. Someone followed the race on an iphone and warned us when the leaders were nearing. 

When we saw the leaders approaching, we "dropped drawers," the women just untying their sarongs. Ron and Willy unfurled their banners. Sure surprised the cyclists! Also the leading motorcycle police, who had to drive on. And the first TV cameraman on a motorbike also got an eyeful - and a lens-full - the second one too. 

We cheered on the leaders, of course, didn't just stand there naked. While we waited for the main group, the "peleton," we congratulated ourselves. When it approached, someone suggested that we spread out, so that the police wouldn't have us all together. We cheered from both sides of the road. More TV-camera men, a couple who really panned their cameras passed us and aimed at the banner near the 10 km mark. The cyclists at the back of the peleton also enjoyed their view of us. One almost caused an accident. 

But then the police did stop and talk to us, but just told us to put our clothes back on again. They didn't look like they really minded what they had seen. After we had, and they left, a Frenchman who had talked to them, said that they had been told by radio that we were there and had admitted that it was the best thing that had happened so far during Tour.

We waited for the stragglers, cheering them on. The banners were still out, and some of the women flashed their breasts for them to see. I hope it gave them a shot of adrenalin to continue the last 10 km up to the finish line. 

When the last support cars had passed, we got back in our vehicles and returned to the resort, where we were enthusiastically greeted, also by a grinning Sans-culotte, who told that everyone had tried to watch the TV reportage on the big screen. Those who had watched on live stream got to see more of us, also more below the waist.

When we all said that we were thirsty, the resort treated the group to a beer, and we a had a couple more, joined by Sans and others' acquaintances who hadn't been along. Someone came and said that we were already on YouTube: "the full monty." Some of us laughed, others were a little apprehensive that family or friends who knew about their trip would see them.

When the group broke up, Sans said that he hoped he would see us at dinner. We agreed, of course, and Marge replied with a slight smirk: 

"And after dinner, if you want."

Anna and I nodded with smiles, and he also did. We hurried back to our room, to the bathroom. When we had all gone, Marge found an SMS from her brother, telling that he had seen us and asking who the girl was that I was standing with - Anna of course. Did he see her smile at me when I patted her bottom? 

He had; Marge called him and heard that he had seen "all of us" and that he hoped she was getting her fair share with such young and attractive competition. We only learned what he had said after she clicked off, having replied with a grin: 

"I am. Tell you when I get home."

"Not 'competition,' Anna remarked with a sweet smile at both of us. We returned her smile, nodding emphatically.

Sans joined us at dinner, congratulating us again at the success of the project. We chuckled about the possibility that others might try the same thing during the following days of the Tour or maybe next year on Bastille Day. He told us that he had new neighbors, explaining:

"too loud Russians on both sides, already partying together, probably wondering what an older man like me is doing here alone."

"You're not here alone," Anna remarked softly with another one of her sweet smiles - and one from Marge. 

"I didn't really think so, now," he replied and raised his glass. 

We all drank with him, returning his smile and nod. I didn't see that Anna's nipples had popped out, just noticed that she rubbed her forearm over them. She was getting her fair share, we all were, Sans too.

As we left the restaurant, he said: 

"Finally, I can invite you to my place, maybe do something about my reputation as a loner with my new neighbors. ... Oh, but you need to bring glasses, if you don't want to drink out of the bottle."

We went to our place to fetch them and then went to his, where two of us had to sit on his double bed. He gestured for Marge and Anna to sit on the armchair and desk chair, leaving me to sit on the bed, while he opened a wine bottle. Before he sat down, he raised his glass and offered a toast:

"Today may have been the highpoint of the trip for some of your compatriots, but it certainly hasn't been for me, wouldn't have been, even if I could have been along. Thank you for inviting me to join you and share in your ... 'hospitality.' It is my pleasure now to be able to return it a little." 

He raised his glass, and we raised our, all nodding, and drank, smiling at each other. As he sat down next to me, it occurred to me that he could have been making the same toast in much more formal surroundings, wearing a dark suit or tuxedo - but he wasn't. 

I felt more than a little incongruous when I found myself standing up to respond, not just because I was naked, but also because I didn't have his obvious practice at making toasts, but the situation seemed to call for an appropriate, equally formal response. I looked down at him for a moment. He smiled slightly, as though I was doing the right thing. Then I looked at Marge, who nodded encouragingly, then at Anna, who looked slightly surprised. I opened my mouth, still not sure what I was going to say: 

"Thank you. You are right. Although today was the original goal of our trip, and was a highpoint in that sense, having you join us has, I believe, ... no, having you join us has made the trip much more enjoyable, and - I believe I can also speak for Marge and Anna - and say that we are looking forward to the next few days together."

As I raised my glass, I felt that I was blushing slightly, maybe also because I had almost said something about his fitting in so well. Marge and Anna nodded with smiles, raising their glasses, and he raised his, and we drank again. When I sat down, Marge gave me another smile and nod.

After a moment's silence, Marge smiled at him and said: 

"Yes, it has been ... is being a real pleasure having you join us."

Anna nodded and added: 

"You've fit in so well."

I snorted immediately. Maybe only when the others saw her blush did they recognize the double entendre. They also snorted with repressed smirks. Her nipples had popped out, and her blush deepened. With a flustered expression on her face, she murmured: 

"Oooh! I didn't mean to say that, ... well, not like that."

Then she snorted with a smirk, looking more relaxed, and added: 

"Well, like that, too," and grinned wryly.

We all chuckled, nodding with smiles. Sans raised his glass to her with a smile and replied: 

"I thought so too," and then turned to include Marge. She nodded with with grin and agreed: 

"I thought so too, ... almost said it, myself."

"Like I almost did," I rejoined, raising my glass.

We all nearly laughed and then drank - much more than just sips. Were the others also thinking that Anna's remark suggested that we empty our glasses? We didn't need a second glass to empty the bottle before we did what we all knew that we were eventually going to do. 

No one said anything as we smiled at each other again. In the silence, the loud talk from one or both the neighboring rooms could be heard. We smiled at each, nodding with chuckles at the confirmation of Sans' having said that his new neighbors were loud. Marge smirked slightly and remarked: 

"Won't have to worry about disturbing them," and took a sip of wine. 

We nodded and took a sip of ours. The next one would be the last one. There was only one way we could disturb them, but I couldn't remember that Anna or Marge had ever been loud enough to. She winked at me, then glancing down at her glass. Sans must have noticed, he looked down at his, swilling the bit of wine in it, and remarked softly: 

"I don't think I need a second glass," and then emptied his.

The rest of us emptied ours, just smirking very slightly as we put them on the desk. When Anna looked back at us, her nipples were again aroused. Had she glanced down at his cock - or mine? Someone had to say something. I saw the tip of Anna's tongue slid across her lips. She couldn't be licking the last drop of wine from them; she had tilted her glass up and poured it into her mouth without its touching them. Someone still had to say something. I felt my cock stir. Still no one said anything. Had Anna glanced over at me - or down at my cock? She did glance at his, and the tip of her tongue moved again. I murmured: 

"I think Anna wants to show you how well you fit in."

She blushed, but nodded, as her eyes darted to mine and then found his. Her tongue licked again, more than just the tip of it. Her eyes dropped down. If my cock stirred again, his must surely have. He hummed very softly and remarked: 

"Even if you are my guests here, I want to fit in any way I can."

I thought that I noticed that his thighs opened, but I was watching Anna, who smiled at him with a nod, sliding off her chair and moving on her knees the couple of feet between them. Then I had to watch Marge, who was crawling towards me, grinning up at me as I spread my thighs. 

Her hand came up under my balls, as she murmured: "You fit in just as well."

The head of my swelling cock disappeared between her lips. 

"Mmmm!" I hummed, although it didn't yet feel very arousing, and glanced over to see that his cock was in Anna's mouth. But then it was feeling very arousing for mine, and I thought it inappropriate to watch what Anna was doing. No need for vicarious arousal, watching and feeling what Marge was doing was as arousing as a man and his cock could want, and I knew that what Anna was doing was being just as good for him.

When she let his cock spring up and leaned down to lick and suck one of his balls, he moaned softly and muttered: 

"Hadn't thought about fitting in like that."

I saw her head nod and assumed that she must have hummed; he moaned again and murmured: 

"Feels good."

"Of course," I murmured, more as a thought than to reply.

Then the glistening head of my cock sprang up, and one of my balls was in Marge's mouth. I moaned and felt Marge's response buzz my ball. What a team! They were going to get it back, even if our tongues didn't fit in their pussies as well as our cocks did, but then they were going to feel them in their warm, wet, aroused pussies.

The heads of our cocks disappeared again, and I forgot about how mine would feel in a pussy; couldn't feel better than it did in Marge's mouth. I was looking forward to her sucking my other ball, but she only stopped sucking my cock long enough to stretch and loosen my sack. Anna, however, did suck his other ball - lucky guy! - why I came before he did. 

With groans that might have disturbed the neighbors, I filled Marge's mouth. At least, it felt like it, and she moaned with apparent delight at each spurt. She couldn't know the pleasure she had given me, but still had enjoyed it, and had herself been aroused. When she raised her head, licking the last drop, I saw that her hand was down between her thighs. She grinned, licking her lips and then showing me her wet fingers. She reached up and let me lick them, then rose up with a grin and kissed me.

She hadn't swallowed it all. As she urged me to lie back, she murmured: 

"Now you get to taste more of me," and climbed up over me.

Oh, I wanted to! I grasped her ass, as she crept up passed my shoulders, and drew her pussy down to my mouth. Wet pussy, my tongue lapping up between her slick inner lips, the tip of it feeling her wetter hole and then finding her clitoris. I loved to lick her pussy - any pussy! - loved to try to return the pleasure she had given me. 

While I was, the movement on the bed suggested that Anna was also clambering up over Sans. I had forgotten about them, but knew that his orgasm must have been just as good; I knew how good Anna sucked cock, how much she loved to. 

I forgot about them again, now holding Marge's breasts and squeezing and rolling her stiff nipples between my fingers, while my tongue delighted at arousing her and tasting her. Her pulsing hum encouraged me and confirmed that I was. 

Oh, it was going to be good! I knew how good she could come, that she would flood my face with her sweet pussy juice. And I knew that my cock was again stiff, that when she had come, that it would be in her tight, slippery pussy, that she would want it to be, that it would want something to contract on, instead of the empty contractions that the tip of my tongue felt, when it returned to her hole to catch fresh moisture.

Her hips began to twitch. It did that again and then was back arousing her clitoris. She began to whimper, her hips twitching quickly. Soon! 

Now!! Better than I hoped! More pussy juice than I could lap up! Running down both sides of my jaw and onto my neck, as her body convulsed, and she gasped and groaned, dropping down on her hands over me. It was so gratifying to know that it had been so good for her.

My tongue stilled, and I relaxed with a moaning sigh. We both sighed a couple of times, exchanging moans. Then she chuckled in her throat and began to move back over me. When my cock touched her, she chuckled again and moved to her ass to try to catch it in her pussy. I reached down and helped. We both chuckled as we found her hole and then hummed as it slipped into her pussy. It squeezed it, and she dropped down on me and licked around my mouth and murmured: 

"I taste good."

"Better, like I tasted you."

"Um-hmm!"

She kissed me, our tongues caressing. My fingers caressed down into her crevice. When they found her asshole, she chuckled again, thrusting her tongue passed mine into my mouth. My finger didn't just caress her twitching asshole. 

"Uhn!" she complained. 

Too dry. My finger slid down and in with my cock and returned. This time, she growled softly as it probed. Her asshole tightened and then relaxed, and she moaned, then chuckling, as my finger tip moved in it. It held it, and her pussy tightened around my cock, then a couple of more times, as she chuckled, evidently having done it on purpose. I also chuckled and murmured: 

"You did that."

"Um-hmm," and she agreed cheerfully and did it again, replying: 

"Feels fucking good, both places," and she did it again, then murmuring: 

"Fuck me."

I did - "both places" - and she fucked me. Other movements on the bed reminded me again that we weren't alone. I glanced over and saw that Anna was sitting on Sans' cock. Good, but forget them; my hips were rocking, meeting - slapping - Marge's, as my cock pumped in and out her pussy. Her pussy was contracting, and then I felt her spurt as she groaned and her body quivered.

For a moment or two, she she relaxed, just lying on me, but her pussy was still contracting, making my cock twitch.

"More," she murmured and began to rock her hips again. 

We started to fuck again with now wet slapping sounds, and soon even wetter ones, as she spurted and groaned again, and I came, my surging cock spurting in her clutching pussy, as I hugged her spasming body to mine. 

"All fucked out," was all I could think, as she she lay still and heavy on me. Our stomachs rose and fell against each other as we recovered with moaning sighs. I felt her pussy contract again, but my cock didn't twitch now. 

Again, the movement of the bed reminded us that we weren't alone. Anna had dropped down, and they were now fucking. I wondered: had she - he too? - had an orgasm with her fingering her clitoris and now was wanting another one? 

They got them. That was so evident that it must have made Marge's pussy contract in empathy, squeezing my softening cock. Then they were also still. A minute or two later, I heard a moist kiss and Anna hum cheerfully, then murmuring: 

"You really have fit in so well."

We all chuckled. Marge murmured: 

"You have, too." 

She chuckled again and squeezed my soft cock. I snorted and replied: 

"But not if you do that again." 

She did, and my cock slipped out. We both snorted, as she nodded. She snorted again and turned her head to them and remarked to Sans: 

"You do too. Hm-hmm, not that I needed Anna to tell me."

"Nope, but it was good that she did," I rejoined, adding: "or we might still be just drinking wine and talking."

He snorted and replied: 

"I doubt it. I was already thinking of something to say, maybe apologize for not having anything to eat, hoping someone would suggest that they wanted something else to eat."

"Oh, I would have," Anna replied with grin.




Bastille Day Ch. 10



"Only if you had said it before I did," Marge agreed.

We all chuckled again. Nice, feeling her stomach move on mine. Marge snorted and remarked: 

"Before Anna has to say so again, I got to go, probably drip on the way."

We all nodded, and she began to move back down on me, her hand holding her pussy lips closed before she stood up. She gave us all a wry smile as she did, and then turned to go to the bathroom. 

"Me too," Anna remarked, and followed her. 

Sans and I exchanged smirks, listening to Marge's using the toilet, then Anna, before it flushed. He murmured: 

"Couldn't want to fit in any better."

I nodded, and we joined them, all of us smirking and snorting as we crowded in the small room to "go," then all washing. We returned to the bedroom, and he refilled our glasses. He raised his and toasted: 

"Thank you for letting me fit in so well."

We all snickered with grins and drank with him. Then he suggested that maybe we could see ourselves on the video of the Tour de France. We crowded behind him, as he sat at the desk and opened his laptop. With our arms around each other - mine on Anna's and Marge's bottoms - we watched him find the Tour website and the video of the day's étape. 

With a couple of clicks, he jumped ahead until the commentary told that the few leaders were approaching the 10 km mark. When the camera panned ahead and showed the arch over the road, we leaned down to see closer. Soon, we recognized our group, before it was apparent that we were nude, but then it was, when a couple from the group were closer to the cyclists that the camera was focused on. We all snickered when the camera man noticed and swung to catch one, then returning to the racers. A few seconds later, the video continued with views of following racers.

It was a minute or two before they and the cameramen on motorcycles approached us. Apparently, their colleague had told about us, since there were more views of us, trying to keep above the waistline, but not shying from showing women's bare breasts, and one camera focused on the banners and included the bus from the resort. 

We all chuckled and congratulated ourselves, waiting for the video to show the main group. We also were shown. Sans stopped the video, so that we could recognize ourselves. It was after that, that the policeman spoke to us, so that was the end of our flash mob, but we were completely satisfied. 

We drank again, Sans congratulating us. Then he looked for the YouTube video. We had to chuckle again, when we discovered that someone had pieced together all nude bits from the Tour video. But there was an even better YouTube posting - better, if people wanted to see us all naked. We hadn't noticed, but someone there with us must have been handy with his cellphone camera. That video made it very evident that we we were all naked, showing plenty of shaved areas, mostly women's. Marge's and Anna's we recognized with more snickers. I slapped their bottoms and said that they really were too old to run around like that. They were disappointed that I wasn't in the video, but I wasn't, thinking that the person had only wanted to show shaven women. 

With more chuckles, we drank again, emptying our glasses. Sans turned off his laptop, and asked if we wanted to start a new bottle. I glanced at the women. From their expressions, I thought they didn't and replied: 

"I don't think so; it was a long day in the sun. Maybe we should go to bed."

I was thinking about returning to our place, but he replied, smirking slightly: 

"You can stay here, if you want, ... if you think we can all sleep on one bed."

"We can try," Anna replied before I could check to see hers or Marge's expression, but then we all nodded with smiles.

He snorted and remarked: 

"Sorry about not having nuts or something to nibble." 

Anna snorted with a smirk and murmured a German word. 

Sans and I didn't understand, but Marge did, snickering with a grin, and then explained:

"The German word for acorns, also nuts, ... but not what you may be thinking. In German those are called 'eggs.' Her 'acorns' referred to something about the same shape that you both have."

We all laughed, Anna nodding to Marge her appreciation for her explanation. Sans then also nodded, looking at Anna and remarking: 

"That was good. Hm-hmm! Hadn't even thought that I might have been suggesting any other kind of nuts, just thinking about the crunchy kind. And I was really only suggesting that we all could sleep together."

"That was all I was thinking," I agreed, then smirking and adding: 

"Besides, mine definitely aren't crunchy. Hm-hmm! Especially not, my 'acorn'."

We laughed again. Anna smiled a little apologetically and said: 

"I wasn't thinking about that either. It just occurred to me to say it."

"Still good," Sans replied.

Marge and I nodded. He began to gather up the glasses, asking if anyone wanted to go to the bathroom. I didn't think that we really had to, but we all did, while he rinsed the glasses. Then he also did, glancing back at us with a snort, as we saw that he also added a little to ours in the toilet. No one made a move to wash. We had sort of agreed that we were just going to bed to sleep. 

We did: me and then Anna and Marge and then Sans. It was a little crowded, all of us lying on our backs, and it was also really a little too early to go to sleep. He and I rolled towards the women, our hands resting on their stomachs, too normal now to comment about, but Marge did: 

"Never knew - imagined - that I could go to bed with ..., well, like this."

"Four people, just to sleep?" I asked.

We all snorted. She agreed: 

"That's what I meant."

"That's all I was suggesting," Sans remarked, but his hand slid up over Marge's breast. 

Then mine slid up over Anna's. It was there, just inviting - maybe better, enticing - to be held, and it fit so well in my hand. I could have anticipated that she would hum softly, but hadn't expected that her hand would find my soft cock. It didn't want to hold it, however; her fingers flipping it aside and finding my sack. When they recognized that it was caught between my thighs, a finger rubbed down and drew my sack free. She cupped them in her hand, fondling gently, as she remarked: 

"I just like to hold them. You know, don't want to do anything."

"Good thing," I murmured, my soft cock resting against her hand.

Marge snorted softly, and then Sans chuckled and remarked: 

"Oh, them. I don't think I want to do anything either.

"Just nice to hold," Marge murmured, then adding: 

"But you two don't want anything either."

"Just nice to hold," I murmured and reached passed Anna and held Marge's breast for a moment.

We all chuckled pleasantly in the dark. After a few moments, Marge remarked: 

"And don't you either, Anna."

The covers rustled, and I assumed that Marge was shoving Anna's hand away. We all chuckled again, and then Sans remarked: 

"But it's nice that you two enjoy each other, too. I never really thought about it before, but I like that you do."

"When Marge let's me."

"Wants you to, just not right now."

"Why not? I mean, why shouldn't we enjoy doing what you both like to do?"

"I sure don't mind that you do," I remarked, adding: 

"Just a little funny that men don't want to, ... most of them, anyway."

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed.

"I wouldn't mind if you did. Would you, Marge?"

"Hmm! Hadn't thought about that before, either."

"Except that we couldn't, if they did, ... not as often."

"Hmm! Not as often as you want to," Marge replied.

"You too!"

I chuckled and remarked: 

"Sans, it's a good thing that you have fit in so well, or they would have to be taking turns just with me."

Marge snorted and replied: 

"I thought we were doing fine the first couple of days, but you're right, that Sans' fitting in so well has made things even better."

"Um-hmm!" Anna agreed emphatically. He snorted and replied: 

"And a whole lot better for me, thank you."

We all hummed in agreement and were silent for a while. Anna's hand was still. I recognized that Marge was breathing slowly, like she did when she as about to go to sleep. Sans must have also noticed; He murmured: 

"Maybe we can just sleep like this."

"Um-hmm," Anna agreed. 

She fondled my balls again and then rolled towards Marge, who agreed and rolled towards her. They got comfortable with their knees overlapping, and Sans and I curled up behind them. We rubbed the other one's breast with the back of our hands and then found the breast we had been holding. We said goodnight and drifted off to sleep.

When we rolled apart in the night, we all woke up enough to shift to our other side, the women curling up behind Sans and me. I fell asleep again with the nice feeling of Anna's arm around me.

In the early morning, I woke up when her hand rubbed my chest. I nodded with a hum and touched her hand. She hummed and murmured: 

"It's not going to be so nice having to sleep alone."

"No, but take it from a once married man, it isn't always like this, as nice as this."

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed, adding: 

"But it sure is nice to wake up with a woman's arm around me."

"As nice as it is for her," Marge rejoined: "Good morning everyone."

We responded. Then Anna chuckled and rolled back, turning to Marge, and said: 

"And just as nice with my arm around you."

"Hmm! Um-hmm, also nice. I guess women just don't have a problem with that. ... Hmm! My sister certainly didn't, last summer after our trip. When she heard what all I had done, she was more than just curious, eager."

"Your sister?" Sans asked and moved to face her. 

Marge snorted. As Anna moved to let Marge lie on her back, I also turned over, seeing that Anna's hand was obviously still on her breast under the covers. Marge snorted again and explained: 

"After we were at Cap d'Agde, ... well, he - my brother - had admitted to her that we had slept together, but she didn't seem to mind, just wanted to know what it was like with another women."

"Good," Anna interjected."

"Um-hmm, she thought so too, and he thought it was nice, just like you two do."

"Um-hmm," Sans and I agreed, nodding at each other, exchanging smiles.

He probably also saw Anna's hand slide down under the covers. Marge snorted, but didn't object, definitely didn't object, her thighs opening a little. Marge gave a soft hum. He and I exchanged smiles again, and again, when we saw Marge's arm move down under the covers, over her hip towards Anna's. She made pleased-sounding noise as she drew her thigh up over Marge's. Sans murmured: 

"If you want to, we think it is nice."

Marge glanced at him with a slight smile, and Anna nodded, and then replied: 

"We do too - want to and think it is nice."

Marge nodded with an "Um-hmm!" 

That was all the encouragement Anna needed - if she needed any. She lowered her head over Marge, pushing the covers down, and found her breast with her mouth. Sans could see better what she was doing. His fingers found Marge's other breast, her nipple immediately responding to their squeezing and pulling on it. My hand found Anna's and did the same. But only for a few seconds; she began to lick and kiss further down Marge's stomach, her breast slipping from my fingers. Her other hand flung back the covers, revealing her hand between Marge's thighs and Marge's between hers.

She began to move around. When her face reached where her hand was, Marge rolled towards her with her arm around her. Anna's feet found the headboard. She grasped Marge's hip and pushed them down the bed, then drawing her thigh up under her head. Their faces disappeared between the other's thighs, and they both hummed. From their pleasure at tasting each other, or from what they were feeling the other was doing? 

Didn't make any difference; it was arousing, and being arousing to watch. My cock wanted to tickle the back of Anna's neck. Was Sans' wanting to get in Marge's crevice? I rubbed mine against Anna and rubbed a finger down past the base of her spine. She nodded with an emphatic "Uhn-hnn!"

Cunnilingus is great, maybe especially for two women who know exactly how what they are doing feels, but they both had told that it was even better with a cock for their pussies to hold. And my cock knew exactly how good it felt to be in a pussy that was being aroused by someone else's licking it. I nodded to Sans as I began to turn around on the bed. Oh, it was going to be good to have it in Anna's tight pussy!

I held her breast again and curled my hips in behind hers. When she raised her thigh, Marge's hand slid between them and found my balls, her fingernails scratching behind them. I hummed, and then her tongue was guiding the head of my cock to Anna's opening. Tight as it was, but already slippery, it slipped easily in. "Uhmmm!" And deeper, as I shifted my hips and heard Anna moan. And then Marge moaned. Her nails scratched again, and then her hand disappeared, but the fingers of her other hand slid over my hip and immediately sought my asshole, finding it. Had Anna done the same? Sans' hand brushed mine, then finding Anna's other breast - in response to her doing the same to him? 

Kind of fair, I thought: their wanting to arouse us two ways, since they were getting it both ways. Then suddenly I recalled what a friend had said thirty years ago when telling about his former girlfriend: "Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning." That was her name. Yeah, buddy, but it couldn't have been better than being in Anna in the morning, and you didn't know what it feels like to have your cock in a pussy that is contracting in response to what someone else is doing doing to her clitoris. Okay, you probably tried to do that with your fingers, but then she couldn't have been arousing you with hers. 

But Marge's were, and her practiced tongue must be able to arouse a clitoris better than my fingers could have. I let go of Anna's breast and found Marge's for a few moments, eliciting a hum and better wiggle of her fingertip. My hand returned to Anna's breast, her stiff nipple. Did she make her pussy contract in response? It had, but it could have just been another reflex from what Marge's tongue was doing, making my cock twitch again.

I held my hips still, trying to delay the orgasm that I felt coming. "Anticipation is 90% of ..." But Anna's pussy was being insistent, trying to milk my cock. I couldn't suppress a moan, and heard her moan, and the others, too. 

To hell with just anticipating! I was almost over the brink. When I felt a movement on the mattress, I clutched Anna's breast and began to fuck her, and then there was a lot more movement, and louder moans, then groans and grunts - mine and Sans'. My cock spurted, and her warm pussy juice wet my balls, and Marge's tongue - wet noises. And more of the same from Anna's tongue!

Sans and I fucked as long as we could, which wasn't very long, but longer than I needed to, but until Marge and Anna gave final groans, and Marge's hand just held my hip. With deep breaths and long, moaning sighs, we lay there, recovering. My cock was slowing retreating out of Anna's pussy. When I rolled back, it slipped out. Sans also rolled back, and we move to let Anna and Marge separate. Sans snorted and remarked: 

"I don't know if I can tell Daphne about this."

"Will she ask?" Marge replied.

"Hmm? Oh, probably. Yes, since she asked last year and heard that Etienne and I had a better time than we had expected, ... but not like this, not as good as this with you."

"And better for me too," Anna agreed.

"For us all, ... if Marge doesn't object."

"Of course not, but the delightful anticipation before and when we first met - the first 24 hours."

"Um-hmm, it sure was delightful. She had to tell me that she was going to sleep with me."

"Because you were so polite about not suggesting."

"Hm-hmm! Didn't want ruin our vacation the first day. I wanted to."

"All the better that you didn't. Hmm! First time I had to tell a man that I did."

"Couldn't have been nicer."

We all chuckled. Sans sat up, smiling down at us, then smirking and saying: 

"Before Anna has to suggest it ...."

"Hm-hmm, not this time, ... not yet, anyway."

"But I do," Marge remarked and sat up.

I saw them exchange grins, and then they got up and went towards the bathroom. Anna and I lay there, and then I did the obvious, most logical thing, lying next to a young woman whom I had just fucked. My arm reached over, and I held her breast. 

"Um-hmm," she responded, then asking softly: 

"You don't have to go, either?"

"Not yet, anyway," I replied, realizing then that I was repeating her words.

She did too, snorting softly, and then her hand found my cock. She snorted again and murmured: 

"All sticky, must have been good."

"It was! For you too, I hope."

"Very."

She was fondling my soft cock. I fondled her breast in return - just to respond. We hadn't heard them use the toilet, then heard them snickering. Anna snorted and murmured: 

"They must be going in the shower."

"Um-hmm."

Her fingers fondled me a little more suggestively, and she murmured: 

"Then they can take a shower."

"Um-hmm," I agreed.

Her hand was now obviously trying to make my cock respond, but it wasn't; I had just come as good as I could. That didn't discourage her. She began to move down over me, murmuring: 

"Until they come back - before - I want to taste you."

"Good luck, no promises."

"You will; Papa can again."



Bastille Day Ch. 11



She was fondling my soft cock. I fondled her breast in return - just to respond. We hadn't heard them use the toilet, then heard them snickering. Anna snorted and murmured: 

"They must be going in the shower."

"Um-hmm."

Her fingers fondled me a little more suggestively, and she murmured: 

"Then they can take a shower."

"Um-hmm," I agreed.

Her hand was now obviously trying to make my cock respond, but it wasn't; I had just come as good as I could. That didn't discourage her. She began to move down over me, murmuring: 

"Until they come back - before - I want to taste you."

"Good luck, no promises."

"You will; Papa can again."

As she straddled me, we heard the shower start. Were they wondering what we could be doing? Her pussy descended on my mouth, as she sucked my soft cock into hers. I wasn't sure I liked her comparison with her father, but if he could ...? I liked discovering that her pussy was oozing moisture from before. If she wanted to taste me, she could have found it with her fingers. At least, it confirmed that I had come as much as it had felt, but that wasn't assuring that I could again.

But it tasted good, arousing, and I loved to lick her pussy. If you think I can, Anna, I hope so, I thought, and I want you to, too.

I hugged her hips, and her hands slipped under mine. Before my cock was stiff again, she moistened a finger in her mouth, and then it was in my asshole. One of mine slipped into her slippery pussy and then into hers. Did she do that with her dad; did he, with her? 

My cock gave her more to suck and lick. Even if I didn't come, what she was doing felt very good, and she was bobbing her head and fingering more eagerly than I remembered. No, she was always delightfully eager, but never had seemed in such a hurry to taste me. I hope that she would get to. I certainly would get to taste her; women - she - had no problem about coming again.

We both did all we could. Her head was bobbing up and down, fucking my cock, when her hips began to twitch. Then she groaned, and her head was still, as her orgasm overcame her. I won, I thought, as her pussy wet my face. 

It wasn't the most intense orgasm I had given her that way. She hardly waited to recover. After a deep breath, her stomach pressing down on mine, her head started to bob again, it seemed even more aggressively than before; she wanted to taste me now. Not just faster, but deeper, the head of my cock was rubbing up and down - in and out? - against her pallet, past the rough surface of it. 

She gave a gagging noise, but continued. God, did she want to try to swallow it? She had said that she wanted to the first day. Even deeper! Another gagging sound. It couldn't go deeper without it getting in her throat!

She drew her head up, just holding it, and took another deep breath, and then another, and then lowered her head, slowly, deliberately. The head of my cock slid over her rough pallet and then on the smooth. Still, she continued to lower her head, her lips hardly touching my shaft. She wanted to! I heard a noise from her throat, and then the head of my cock was in the tightest place it had ever been. Tighter than popping a cherry? Hadn't done that. Oooh! Now the tightness past it, in my groove! My cock tried to twitch. It felt her throaty moan in response. Had to try to twitch again.

She raised her head, and I felt the tightness catch on the ridge of my head and then slip over it. She drew her head further up and caught her breath, nodding. After another deep breath, she lowered her head again, again deliberately, but not so slowly, and my cock popped back into her throat.

"Oh, shit!! She was really doing it, holding my twitching cock deep in her throat! And taking a breath again with it there! Did she want me to come in her throat? Couldn't taste me that way, but I was going to, if she kept it there much longer. 

She drew her head up. I managed to control my orgasm until she had taken another deep breath and began to suck. But then! If I had had any doubts about being able to come again, they were dispelled by the strong spurts of my orgasm, and she received them with pleased-sounding moans.

I was almost as proud of her success as she had to have been. I must have grunted as I came. Now I returned her pleased moans and rubbed her back, my hands sliding down and holding her breasts. She nodded with my cock still in her mouth, slavering my semen around it. Then she sucked gently and raised her head, her lips closed around my cock. It slipped out. She chuckled softly. I imagined that she was still savoring it, and then raised her head further, probably swallowing. She chuckled again and murmured: 

"I did it! And you did, too."

"You sure did!"

It was Marge's voice! We both looked over and saw that she and Sans were standing near the bathroom door. She was holding his stiff cock, and it looked like he had his hand under her ass with his fingers on her pussy. We all exchanged wry grins, Anna and me, too. We hadn't expected that we were being observed, but it looked like they had enjoyed watching, and Anna's successful experiment certainly deserved an audience. She snorted and repeated: 

"I did it. Told him last week that I wanted to try."

She glanced back and gave me a smile, adding: 

"Thanks for letting me."

"Any time!" I replied. 

We all laughed. Then Marge remarked: 

"Don't know if I want to try that, but it must have been good, ... at least for him."

"It was," I agreed.

Sans nodded, giving Anna a smile and agreeing: 

"I bet it was."

Anna returned his smile and replied: 

"Now that I know I can, you'll find out."

"Oooh! When did you decide that you wanted to?" he asked.

Anna grinned, apparently liking the being the center of interest, and explained: 

"Of course, I had heard about it, but couldn't imagine that it could be good. And then seen videos, but they all looked like something only porn stars did. But after last summer, hearing about Literotica - read too many stories - then I was curious and found a 'how-to' article: 'Cocksucking for dummies.' That didn't tell me how to, but all the comments by women made it clear that not just porn stars did it, and many gave tips about how to. If they could, if they wanted to, and their men certainly enjoyed it .... So I had to try it. Didn't want to experiment with my Dad."

We nodded, smiling in appreciation for her explanation. I remarked: 

"She just told me that she wanted to taste me again."

"Oh, I did that too. He wasn't sure I could."

She licked her lips with a grin. Sans smirked down at Marge and replied: 

"We tasted each other, too, also new for me, but, well, I guess you know how."

Marge returned his smirk with a nod. Anna and I exchanged our own smirks, and she said: 

I really have to go now. We will too."

I nodded, and we all chuckled. She rolled off me, towards them and then on to the edge of the bed, landing on her feet. I scrambled after her, giving the others a grin as I followed her to the bathroom. In the shower, she grinned down at me as I dropped to my knees, and then let her stream flow. She teased me by shifting her hips from side to side, her stream sweeping back and forth, until I grasped them and caught it close to her pussy. 

It didn't taste like a glass of juice before breakfast, but I wanted to taste anything that came from her pussy - well, not that, but both of them seemed to have been lucky that their periods didn't upset our vacation. She wanted my stream all over her body and face before she guided it in her mouth, finishing with my cock in it, licking and sucking for a moment, as she looked up at me with smiling eyes. I helped her stand up and we washed each other. I ventured to use Sans razor to shave, and then we dried ourselves with the moist towels they had used.

While we were, we glanced out and saw that they were fucking. We had expected something, but not that she was sitting on his lap, he sitting astride the desk chair, both of them with their hands down behind the other's hips. Anna smirked and murmured:  

"Also a good idea."

"Like they did that first morning together," I suggested."

"I hope so. She didn't tell us."

We agreed to stay in the bathroom until they were finished. I sat on the toilet lid and she sat across my thighs where we could watch them. If it had taken more than a minute or two before we saw their good mutual orgasm, we might have started thinking about doing more ourselves; Anna's hand was between her thighs, playing with my cock and balls, and I was fondling her breasts, her nipples responding better than my cock was.

As they were recovering, they both looked around to see where we were, smiling at us and then at each other. I patted Anna's bottom and urged her to stand up, and we joined them. When I raised my eyebrows questioningly, Marge snorted and said: 

"His idea, like he sometimes does with his daughter."

He smiled wryly and added: 

"Her idea, before I knew she had so much experience. Not going to complain now."

"Hm-hmm! Daughters can be a pleasant surprise," Anna replied with a grin.

"They sure can be!" he agreed, returning her grin.

We all chuckled, and Marge stood up, letting him back off the chair, his cock still swollen. Marge, with a wry expression, held her pussy lips closed. As they came towards us, we left the bathroom to let them wash.

While we straightened up the bed, we noticed that it was overcast and that it was cooler than the previous mornings. They joined us, all of us smirking slightly, and remarked the same about the weather. Sans turned to his computer and found the weather report for the area: 70% possibility of rain. Marge remarked: 

"Can't expect sun every day for two weeks."

"Good reason to stay in bed all day," Anna remarked with a grin.

The three of us snorted with wry smiles. Sans replied: 

"Just to keep warm and plan what we can do tomorrow, when the weather should be better."

Anna nodded with a slightly apologetic expression for her too suggestive remark. I remarked: 

"Then at our place. Maybe we can even put on clothes, if it is too cool."

Marge nodded with a smile, Anna feigned a frown, then also smiling. Sans agreed, saying that he would bring his laptop and reminding us to find our wineglasses. He also found his - and a wine bottle - and we left his room. Outside, it was even cooler. We hurried to our place to leave our things and then joined the others going to breakfast, another short walk.

Some people had put on clothes. Others hadn't; all the women's nipples looking aroused, and the men's cocks, a lot smaller than they were most of the time - mine and Sans' too, of course. Marge noticed my looking and gave me a nudge, remarking softly: 

"Like you'd never seen so many aroused women before; don't stare."

"Was I?"

"Sure looked like it. Mine too."

"Um-hmm, nice."

"And mine,"Anna agreed, then adding in a whisper: 

"You - both of you; you too, Marge - should suck them more often."

Sans snorted and replied: 

"I sucked hers this morning; just remind me."

Marge gave him a smile, nodding, and we all chuckled. I whispered: 

"I'll try not to forget." 

Even though we had sort of agreed that Anna's suggestion about staying in bed all day didn't have to include doing anything, apparently we all were quite comfortable about talking about it. In this mood, we joined the lines at the breakfast buffet. Others from our group beckoned for us to join them. 

They were still congratulating each other about the success of our Nude Day flash mob. For us, someone told again that on the website of "l'Equipe," the French daily sports newspaper, there were photos of us, one showing the resort's bus and one of the banners: "just from the waist up, of course, but plenty of boobs, and a shot from behind, showing bottoms, to confirm that we really had been nude."

We and everyone else promised to look at the website. Sans said that he would see if there was mention of the flash mob in other papers and tell people at lunch. Pleased with ourselves, we had a very cheerful breakfast. When we finished, Sans said that he would tell the resort management and join us later.

Back in our room, he said that the resort already knew about the pictures and was very pleased that the photo showing its name on the bus had appeared. He then turned on his laptop, and we crowded behind him. After a few moments stooping over him, I put the other chair behind his and invited Marge and Anna to sit on my thighs. Nice, warmer, being so close with my arms around them and theirs around my shoulders.

Sans found that website and the pictures, and then that of the magazine that had published the topless photos of Princess Catherine. More photos, this time with a black strip covering midriffs. He translated the brief text, which explained that in USA July 14 was a national celebration of nudity. We all chuckled at this simplification. 

A couple of the more serious papers didn't mention us, but a couple of others did. He moved on to the British tabloids. When we saw that "The Sun" and "Daily Mirror" had the same photos showing bare breasts - obviously chosen for their size - Anna asked him to find "Bildzeitung," the German tabloid, more of the same. I noticed that she was rubbing his chest. 

He turned his head to her and asked: 

"Enough?"

"Um-hmm, for me. You two can check the US papers. Sans nodded, and Marge and I just nodded. They stood up and moved away. We didn't watch them, as I moved to the chair Sans had been sitting on, gesturing for Marge to sit on both my thighs. She took control of the laptop, finding the website of "USA Today." The photos were more discreet, but the explanation of Nude Day was more correct, perhaps titillating enough for most readers.

She thought the "San Francisco Chronicle" might be a paper that would mention us, but it didn't. Nor did the "New York Times." A nude flash mop was apparently not "all the news that's fit to print." Marge murmured: 

"Either not news, or not fit to print."

"Um-hmm, but saves us from having to explain to everyone we know what we were doing here."

"Hm-hmm! That would be the least of what we had to explain."

We looked back at the bed. As expected, Sans and Anna had slipped under the covers, but they weren't doing anything. She was lying with her head on his shoulder and her thigh on his. Oh, her hand was obviously down between his thighs, but still. I assumed that she was just holding his balls. Where else should she put her hand?

Marge snorted softly. My hands were resting on her thighs. She drew one closer to her pussy. I moved it a little closer, and she nodded, but then whispered: 

"Not really, if they aren't."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, but slid my other hand up and held her breast. 

She nodded again, but murmured: 

"Still, not really. Other bed."

She turned off the laptop, and we stood up. Sans and Anna had left space on the bed for us to join them, but we slipped under covers of the single bed, lying like they were. When Marge's fingers cupped around my balls, fondling them gently for a moment, I wondered if we really wouldn't, but her fingers stilled, and we just lay there, now more aware of sound of the rain and wind and then letting it lull us to sleep.

What woke us up? What woke me up? What woke Sans up? He murmured: 

"I think the rain has passed."

But it could have Marge's fingers gently moving my balls again, maybe before he spoke. Or had he been awakened by Anna's fondling his balls? A very nice way to be awakened! Whatever? The sound of the wind and rain had disappeared. I felt more than heard Marge's soft hum of agreement to what he had said. Her fingers seemed more aware of where they were. I reached over and rubbed the back of my fingers on the breast that was resting on my side. She snorted softly and held my balls a little more firmly. 

Were we going to do something? Sans had the same question, murmuring to Anna: 

"You said we didn't have to do anything."

"We don't. My fingers just didn't know."

"Hm-hmm! Nor mine," Marge replied, but her fingers very knowingly massaged my balls.

We all chuckled, then Anna, who was facing the window, remarked brightly: 

"Oh, the sun is shining now."

We all turned our heads to look; it was. Apparently we were all agreed that we weren't going to do anything, settled when Anna added: 

"I have to go to the bathroom, anyway."

As usual, then we all felt that we did, following her there. While she and Marge used the toilet, both Sans and I hung our cocks over the edge of the washbasin. They were a little longer than usual from the fondling. We smirked at each other in the mirror as our streams started. I snorted and murmured: 

"But I'm not going to take a shower with you."

"Hmm! That's good, saved me from saying it."

We heard a snicker behind us, and Marge remarked: 

"But you both were thinking about it."

We exchanged wry smiles in the mirror and shook our cocks, taking turns rinsing them - each his own - with a handful of water from the spout. He said that it would probably be warmer outside, so we went out. It was, and we took a walk to areas of the resort that we hadn't seen, until it was time for lunch.

During lunch, others from our group suggested that we join them during the afternoon. When one of them, who had also been at Cap d'Agde, added: "unless you have something better to do," we replied, of course, that we did not, but the remark suggested that others had ideas about what we might think was something better to do. 

We did, but spent the rest of the day with them, and enjoyed ourselves. I admitted to myself that it was fun seeing other bare breasts - and also shaved pussies. At nudest resorts, one isn't supposed stare - doesn't - but an occasional glance ... 

And I wasn't the only one glancing. When we had parted from the others before dinner, Anna remarked softly: 

"Did you see his cock? Does it get even that much bigger, like both of yours?"

We all knew the cock she was referring to; it looked about as thick as mine when I was aroused, but he hadn't been. Marge snorted and replied: 

"I hope not; it wouldn't fit, ... well, if it did, I wouldn't want it to try to, ... either way."

Anna nodded. Sans and I exchanged glances. I had had the same question, was pleased with Marge's remark. Anna agreed: 

"I hope not, too, for her."

We all nodded, exchanging smiles. Sans suggested that he fetch a bottle of wine for after dinner, and we accompanied him to his place and then to ours. On the way to dinner, he suggested that we could have another outing to Avignon the next day, mentioning that we hadn't seen all the sights. We agreed, of course, and I insisted on treating for lunch. Sans and Marge nodded with smiles. Anna also nodded, but muttered: 

"No picnic." 

She chuckled with us, however. Sans grinned and replied: 

"Just no 'picnic.' Even if we stay till the museums close, the drive back won't take till dinnertime."

She returned his grin. Marge and I exchanged mild smirks, and we continued our way to the restaurant, agreeing to separate to avoid too much speculation about ourselves. 

Marge and Anna joined some people speaking German. Sans and I introduced ourselves to two older English couples, who were pleased to have new company. They had been surprised by the flash mop. They admitted that their friends and families didn't know that they were nudists, that they had met that way many years before. One of the ladies - she looked like a lady - glanced at the other woman, who also looked like a lady, with a blush and admitted softly: 

"We weren't sure which one we liked better."

The men nodded and grinned - no, gentlemen would have only smiled. The other woman/lady did grin, nodding, and replied softly: 




Bastille Day Ch. 11



"So we get together in France each year, still trying to find out."

We all chuckled, very softly, like gentlefolk would. The first woman/lady whispered: 

"Sometimes we cheat, back home."

"Now that our children are grown," the other added.

One of the men snorted and remarked - softly, of course:

"Whose children?"

"Shhhh!" both woman responded, looking very embarrassed.

I was almost as flustered as they were by his words. Sans showed immediate aplomb, remarking: 

"A husband never knows, but I am sure you all like them."

The women looked relieved, nodding, exchanging smiles. One murmured: 

"We do, ... just hope no one else knows why."

The other man also nodded, then smiling and murmuring: 

"Good thing that we live in different parts of the country, that no one knows ..., well, which one looks like my son."

"I don't mind," the other replied - softly, of course - adding: 

"Wish my daughter looked more like your wife."

It took a moment before I recognized the possibilities: was "his" daughter that of the other's wife; did he just think so, wish she were; or was it a compliment, that the other woman had been more attractive than he thought his daughter was - than his wife had once been?

It was also a moment before anyone else responded, a couple more. Then the second woman remarked: 

"That's why we still get together; it doesn't matter."

The men and her friend nodded. The more outspoken man remarked softly: 

"It really doesn't matter."

He smirked slightly, glancing at them, and added: 

"Still fun trying."

The women looked embarrassed again - with aroused nipples on their middle-aged breasts. His friend nodded emphatically with a grin. That didn't help the women's embarrassment. Sans came to their rescue again, remarking: 

"Wish I weren't a widower and had friends like you."

The women looked a little relieved, maybe apologetic at his admission that he was a widower. One of the men remarked, however: 

"But we've seen you both with those two nice young women."

His wife snorted and remarked: 

"Stop looking."

Sans smiled with a nod and replied: 

"Can't blame him. My luck that I could join them."

"Theirs and mine, too. We just didn't meet so soon," I added.

We all nodded with smiles and left the subject, Sans and I answering their questions about the flash mob. When we parted, wishing each other a pleasant evening, we all smirked a little.

Anna and Marge joined us, telling that they had been with Austrians, who had complained about the loud Germans. We hadn't noticed them, but Anna explained that the Austrians always complained about the Germans, who were always more numerous; that they objected to others' assuming that they were Germans. Marge agreed from her more limited experience, and we returned to our room, where Sans' bottle of wine was waiting for us.

While he opened it, I told Marge and Anna about the two English couples. They snickered, and we included them in our toast, chuckling about their not having bothered with condoms or other forms of birth control. Sans and I had taken it for granted that Marge and Anna had. I knew that Anna took the pill. Marge told us that she had a UID. After a second or third drink - we weren't sipping; I think the others also knew that Anna's remark about not doing anything no longer applied. 

I ventured to ask: 

"And it won't happen, your periods?"

They both grinned, shaking their heads. Marge remarked: 

"Just good luck, but I would have done something about that."

"Like I did. Embarrassing, asking my doctor. Guess he had heard the question before, telling me how to use the pill to move mine."

We raised our glasses again, silently toasting their anticipation of our vacation. Then, with another sip, our glasses were empty. We all looked from one to the other with slight smiles, obviously all waiting for one of us to suggest that we do something. I felt my cock's anticipation, didn't look at Sans, and didn't have to look directly at Anna's nipples to recognized that they had popped out. She snorted softly and unconsciously rubbed her forearm over them. Then she smiled wryly and muttered: 

"Why do I always have to be the one to suggest that we go to the bathroom?"

We all snorted, nodding and returning her smile - and went; same procedure as before. Sans' cock was also longer as we hung them over the edge of the washbasin. Before we started go, he snorted and pulled his loose sack and balls over the edge. I then did the same, feeling the cool porcelain under them, and pleased that my balls also hung past the inch or two of the edge. But then our cocks were aiming at the back of the basin. After the first splash of our streams, we quickly held them down, chuckling as we aimed at the drain and then exchanged smirks in the mirror.

This time, we took turns using a washcloth to wash more than just our cocks, passing it on to Anna, who did the same, smirking at us in the mirror, as she washed further behind her pussy. While we dried ourselves, Marge washed. When she was also finished we returned to the room - another exchange of questioning glances, now also glances at cocks and breasts, all showing anticipation of whatever we were going to do.

Anna looked at Marge, as though she didn't want to be the one to have suggest everything. Marge snorted slightly with a little nod and murmured: 

"Why don't we all do it together, like we did a couple of nights ago?"

Sans and I nodded - of course! Anna smiled broadly, as though that was what she had been hoping, looking at his cock. Fair enough; she had sucked mine that morning, not just sucked it! His cock looked as though it liked the idea. I didn't have to look at mine to know that it also did, but Marge did, then giving me a smile. 

Anna hummed with a grin and flung back the covers and dove down on the bed, grinning at us before she rolled away from us. Marge followed her - back to back, head to hips - and Sans and I joined them - he across the head of the bed, I at the foot of the bed. As we were getting comfortable with our heads on their thighs, Marge began to fondle my balls and cock. What a lovely pink, young pussy, I was thinking, looking at Anna's, about to move my face so close that I couldn't see it. As I started to, I heard her murmur: 

"I don't think I can do it this way, like I did this morning - another time."

"Um-hmm," I heard him acknowledge.

What a pleasure! All of us doing something we enjoyed so much and enjoying how much someone else enjoyed giving us pleasure - Marge, me. Just so compatible, knowing from experience that we all recognized that we were in no hurry; that we wanted to indulge in prolonging the arousing sensations we were giving each other, and the delicious sensations for our mouths. Fucking is the ultimate pleasure, of course, but then it gets out of control, usually a little stress of trying to control my orgasm while trying to give her hers. 

I reached up and fondled Anna's breast. She responded by reaching down and tousling my hair. Nice, just a nice confirmation that we recognized each other. I should do the same with Marge; my hand reached back and found her breast. She nodded with a hum, and then her hand slid over my hip, her fingernails just scratching below the base of my spine. "Uhnn!" Felt good, arousing, but she understood that we didn't yet want it to become too arousing.

We didn't, delightfully teasing each other by slacking off when hips twitched, sometimes in turn; my tongue stilling in Anna's pussy, while Marge almost brought me over the edge, and the other way around; sometimes all of us holding back, relaxing together with moaning sighs, as we let our arousal subside - and our tongues rest. 

But then - who started it? Marge's fingernails scratched down to my asshole. She knew what was going to happen if she started that, making it tighten and my cock surge. Sans gave a louder moan. Was Anna doing the same? Had before? She wanted him to come in her mouth? She must want me to make her come. Marge gave a long deep moan, buzzing on my cock - from what Sans' tongue was doing on her firm, aroused clitoris? I knew what it was like! But not better than Anna's!

Of course, we all didn't come at the same time, but better. I couldn't help but neglect Anna when my hips jerked and my cock began to spurt in Marge's mouth, having to grunt and groan, as she moaned with each spurt. It sounded like Sans was doing the same. Then I felt that Marge was savoring my semen, her tongue caressing my now overly sensitive spot. 

I tried to forget the almost painful sensation and began to arouse Anna again, eagerly, as intensely as I could. Oh, I wanted to make her hips twitch, to make her pussy give me her love juice, to make her whole body spasm! 

She wanted it, rocking her hips, but then losing control. Her thighs quivered, and her hips twitched incessantly, as she gasped and moan. Oooh! Marge was also gasping, sucking cool air in around my cock! "Uhnn!" Anna's sweet love juice! More than I could lap up. 

"Uhn!" Marge almost bit my cock, her body jerking like Anna's had, and the wet sounds were not just from my tongue; Sans was also trying to lap up all of Marge's juice.

We all relaxed with long, deep, sighing moans. My cock was still in Marge's mouth, no longer so sensitive, and wilting slowly. Her tongue moved gently on it, as though she were sucking her thumb. 

I had to snort at the thought that that was good practice for girls as an introduction to cock-sucking. And what for boys, as an introduction to pussy-licking? Nothing occurred to me; they also just sucked their thumbs - but not as an introduction to cock-sucking. Oh, the sucking for both boys and girls was really only about nursing; have to remember to suck Anna's and Marge's breasts, but I still liked the idea that girls/women naturally liked to suck on something like their thumb.

My cock probably wasn't much bigger than mine, when I rolled back, and it slipped from between Marge's lips. She gave a slightly disappointed sounding little moan, and then snorted and murmured: 

"You took it away from me. I was just sucking my thumb, well, that occurred to me, just nice to have in my mouth."

"Hm-hm-hmm! Just what I was thinking; it felt like that, and that girls must just naturally like to suck cocks."

The others chuckled. Anna replied cheerfully: 

"I do."

"You sure do, thank you," Sans remarked.

"Me too," Marge agreed, snickering.

We all chuckled again and moved around on the bed, lying with our heads on the pillows. It was almost dark outside and darker in the room. I remarked: 

"You two really like to do it."

"Um-hmm," Marge agreed. Anna remarked: 

"You would too. Oh, I mean, not like that, ... but, well, ... of course men like you don't, but why shouldn't you? Boys also suck their thumbs."

Sans snorted sharply. I would have, if I hadn't already thought about that. Marge remarked: 

"You don't mind that we like to do it to each other."

"Oh no," Sans agreed: "better than women who don't, more adventurous and, ... well, I don't know, but I like that you do."

"We do too," Anna replied, and then we were silent.

The women were lying between us, as usual. I put my outside hand to my mouth and put my thumb in it, experimenting with sucking and licking it. Nice. Was I thinking about sucking a cock? Of course, I must have been, no problem sucking all of my thumb in my mouth. Suddenly Marge, next to me, asked: 

"What are you doing?"

Had she seen me, or heard me sucking. She certainly did when I pulled it out and murmured: 

"Sucking my thumb. Can't remember when I last did."

Soft snickers. Then we heard Anna noisily sucking hers, humming. Then she made it pop loudly as she drew it out and said: 

"Good, but not as good as a cock."

"I'll take your word for it," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed, and we were silent again.

I wondered what to think about our conversation and wondered what the others were thinking. Were the women telling us that they thought we could suck each other's cock? There, I thought that! They didn't seem bothered by the idea, like we weren't bothered by their licking each other's pussy. What was Sans thinking?

The silence continued, then he asked softly: 

"Have you ever dreamt about sucking your own cock?"

Surprised snorts from Marge and Anna - and from me. I had. Had he? Must have, to ask that.

"Um-hmm, guess you have too, tried to in a dream, a couple of them."

"Um-hmm. Hm-hmm! Just trying to."

"What men dream about!" Marge remarked.

"You couldn't," Anna murmured.

"No," Sans agreed: of course not, but somehow close enough for it to seem like I almost could."

"Um-hmm, something like that. Hm-hmm! Must have been a foot long, longer; I was getting close, thinking I could, but never did."

"Really?" Marge asked: "Don't think girls have dreams like that."

"I haven't. And you both had dreams about that?" Anna added.

"A great international men's secret," I replied.

Chuckles, maybe nervous chuckles from Sans and me, apprehensive of where the conversation was going. Marge said: 

"If you wanted to have your cocks sucked - that kind of a dream - you didn't need to try to do it yourselves. You couldn't, anyway. Or were they really about wanting to?"

"I'm pretty sure," I replied: I remember thinking that leaning down like that wouldn't let me lick it where it felt best."

"You really wanted to suck it, not just have it sucked?" she asked.

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed.

"Maybe it wasn't your own," Marge murmured, adding: "didn't have to be your own, just couldn't allow yourself to dream that."

"Hmm? Hadn't thought of that."

"Nor I," I agreed, surprised by, but recognizing the validity of her remark, that the taboo was so great that we couldn't dream about sucking another cock. But was that what we subconsciously wanted to do, why we had the dreams?!

Anna murmured: 

"Pity that you couldn't, since you both wanted to."

"Um-hmm," Marge agreed.

There was another silence with more questioning thoughts. What were Sans', mine? Then Marge spoke again: 

"I certainly wouldn't think anything about it, if you did, like you don't about us."

"Um-hmm," Anna agreed: "I wouldn't either. Why not? We like to do what you like to do, and you know we like to do it to you. Why shouldn't you?"

Sans and I both gave questioning hums. Before the silence got too long, Marge murmured: 

"The first time I did it with another girl, I felt like I was breaking ..., well, you know; girls just don't do that unless ..., but I wasn't, we were just doing something that felt very good, also to do."

"Um-hmm," Anna agreed: "but I guess Petra and I didn't have that problem - seen too much on internet - just the question if we two wanted to do it. We did."

Sans and I again gave questioning hums. I found myself murmuring: 

"I know that I would like it. When they do it - not just now, too busy myself - I think how it must feel for them - before it gets too good to think about anything else."

"Um-hmm," he agreed. Marge and Anna also hummed their agreement.

Another silence, broken by Marge: 

"If you want to, I think you should. No better opportunity, if you are curious. I would be. I would like it that you were open enough to settle your curiosity, like your liking us for doing it to each other."

"Um-hmm, me too," Anna murmured.

More silence. I wanted to, I admitted to myself. Of course, I wanted to! But did he? At least, we knew that they didn't think we had to be queer to be curious about it, to want to. But did he want to?! More silence, a very pregnant silence, if men's discussing possibly sucking each other's cock could have anything to do with pregnancy. Of course, the word had other meanings, but that was the most obviously inappropriate one. Marge saved us, murmuring: 

"We'd better do it, before they discover why we like to and don't need us any more."

I wasn't sure that my cock needed to be sucked again. Oh, I was sure that it didn't, but having Anna or Marge do it was better than thinking further about Sans' maybe wanting to - especially about my thinking of sucking his! Which one sucked mine? It didn't matter, her pussy/muschi was good - of course! - and she soon convinced my cock that it wanted to again. Of course, her - which one's? - muschi also wanted to. They always did - could! Unfair! But then my cock also wanted to. I hoped that she didn't mind that it hadn't been as much as before, or that it hadn't been as much as with him.

Anna and Marge joined us on the pillows, between us, and we curled up, no one saying anything. I was relieved that Marge had found a solution of a very ticklish situation. Their silence suggested that they felt the same way. 

When we awoke in the morning we greeted each other, smiling. When Sans and I smirked, Marge and Anna also did, without anyone referring to our conversation. Then, as usual, Anna was the first to say that she had to go. Sans, the complete gentleman, immediately rose and gave her a hand. She grinned, nodding, and they headed for the bathroom. Marge smirked at me and said: 

"Don't know if I can wait for them to shower."

I gave her my hand and replied: 

"Either we chase them out of the shower or go on the drain in the floor."

"Hmm! Knowing them, probably the latter."

Raunchy? Two couples peeing together? Very, but not as raunchy as it could have been, just with our hands in each other's stream. Anna did aim his up on herself. Marge's and mine only splashed on our legs. Sans turned on the water and handed us the shower head on the hose to let us rinse ourselves and the floor. We stood with our arms around each other and watched them wash each other, chuckling with them when they more than just washed each other's private parts. There wasn't much private about them; we all were about as familiar with each other's as we could be.

I suggested that Sans could use my razor while Marge and I showered. We were just as familiar washing each other, and then I shaved. When we returned to the room, at the sight of the bed, Sans and I exchanged wry smiles. Marge and Anna acknowledged our expressions with the mildest of smiles and slightest of nods. He broke the moment of silence: 

"Breakfast, Avignon."

We were among the first people at breakfast. Eventually Willy and Ron and their girlfriends greeted us and sat at the next table. When we started to leave, they asked what we were planning for the day. Sans told that he was taking us to Avignon. They were surprised and wished us a nice outing, remarking that we were lucky to be able to do something outside the resort. As we turned to leave, Willy chuckled and said: 

"Don't forget to put on clothes."

We all chuckled, nodding with grins. Marge replied: 

"He already warned us that we will be visiting churches; no bare shoulders or hot pants."

They grinned, nodding, and we left, agreeing to meet again, since Sans had to go back to his room.

As we were dressing, we smirked at each other, since we all made it a sort of reverse striptease. Marge started it, grinning as she slid her bra up over her breasts before she slipped the straps up her arms. When I recognized what she was doing, it occurred to me that a woman stripping off her bra should still have panties on, but she didn't, the slit of her waxed pussy visible. How many times had I licked and fucked it? Anna then did the same. Their putting on panties didn't allow much teasing, but I made a show of pulling my underpants up behind my balls and cock and then slowly letting them disappear and jostling them when they had. Fully dressed, we met Sans and went to his car. 

No one objected when I sat in the front seat. Did they - or had I - thought that appropriate after what we had done? I didn't want to talk about that. When we on the highway, I remarked: 




Bastille Day Ch. 11



"Kind of wish I had had a daughter like Anna or your Daphne."

"Hmm? Anna told you. I simplified things before, guess you heard."

"Um-hmm, sounded a little better. But I shouldn't ask."

"Oh, why not. It was, is."

"What are you two talking about?" came from the back seat.

He turned down the fan for the air conditioning and raised his voice to reply:

"About fathers and daughters."

"Oh, that's nice," Anna called.

He nodded vigorously for them to see, chuckling. Marge responded: "Brothers, too." He nodded again. While I was wondering if he wanted to change the subject, he spoke again, loud enough for them also to hear: 

"I guess you all know that it wasn't quite like I told before. You don't have to ask; nice to have someone to tell - someone whom I know will enjoy and understand the right way."

We all nodded, he moving his head to look at Marge and Anna in the rearview mirror. He turned the fan down a little more, so he didn't have to talk so loud: 

"I told you about our bantering about her growing figure, nothing inappropriate, just perhaps more than a father should remark to his daughter, but she liked it."

"Like I would have," Anna agreed.

"Probably, maybe doing a little to encourage my remarks. When she was eighteen, last year at the lyceum, by then I assumed that she had slept with a boyfriend - or two - like I had heard from other parents. Oh, her mother had told me that she had the pill. Did our bantering get better - worse - after she did? Well, she was eighteen and could do what she wanted. Hm-hmm? Have to remember that I said that. And then my wife was in the clinic the first time.

"Did we banter more because we alone? Can't remember. Anyway, one night before going to bed, I was in my bathroom with nothing on, brushing my teeth, the door to my bedroom open. Hmm? I think I had closed the door to the hall. Suddenly she was beside me, speaking before I noticed; I had my head down over the basin, rinsing my mouth. 'Want to sleep with me? I do.' 

"Surprise! Shock! My daughter's voice asking me that, and she's standing right next to me, seen that I am naked. At least, she has something on, I see, glancing back past the edge of the basin. At least, for a few moments, I can continue rinsing my mouth, collecting my thoughts, not very well, as you can all imagine. 'Merde!' 'Shit!' you Americans would say. My thoughts only got far enough to wonder if this is what all our bantering had been about, really had been about - father and daughter incest? No question, that was what she is suggesting, and I'm standing there naked, and she knew it before she came in the bathroom.

"At least, she was blushing, when I finally raised my head. I probably was too. She had on her oldest shorty nightgown. I remember, because I had said something about it the first time she wore, but back then, it was longer, she wasn't as tall, and now it was all washed out, just a trace of teddy bears or whatever, and worn thin enough that I could see the darker color of her nipples, very erect nipples. And I knew she could see more of me a lot better, although I had only turned my head to her. You know what I mean. 'Merde!' At least, she wasn't looking at it, when I looked at her, just looking at me with a red face, nodding slightly, waiting for me to reply, reply to her so direct question.

"Maybe I tried to say whatever I should have, but there was no hiding what my cock was suggesting, and I recognized that she wasn't wearing the loose panty bottom that went with the top. When she just replied - to whatever arguments I was making – repeating: 'I want to,' and repeating that again. Did she glance down and add: 'you really want to'? If she didn't, I did - want to, of course. Whatever I said, standing there with my cock sticking out, she started to gather up her top. Didn't have snug panties on either, my last hope. I had seen a few of them. Just her sweet little patch of hair. Yes, I was already thinking that it was 'sweet.' And then she was letting me see her breasts. Mmmm! I couldn't help but look at them, until her face reappeared.

"Did I just give in? No, I wanted to. What did I say before: she was eighteen and could what she wanted. She did, I did. Oh, I was surprised with her experience, but that was good - of course. I mean, that I didn't have to ask her to do anything, that it was all her initiative; that I hadn't seduced her."

"Oh, that's nice, that was good," Marge remarked. Anna and I nodded, and he did, replying: 

"It was, of course. Of course, we kept on until her mother came home. I thought that would be the end of it, but then, a couple of nights later, she came in my room. After that, I knew that we would continue. I hadn't slept with my wife in a couple of years, what she also knew. Then she went to the Sorbonne. Before, I suggested that she had moved out, but she was still living at home. Of course, she had her own social life, apparently including sleeping with someone, but we still did, then usually in her room down the hall. My wife took sleeping pills.

"One evening, when she had said that they were 'just going to a movie,' I slept it my bed, but she joined me, complaining that she had explained that they were 'just' going to a movie. After that, I understood that 'just' meant that I should sleep in her room and wait for her. Occasionally, when she hadn't said 'just,' she would come home and in my room, complaining that they had 'just' had dinner or whatever, father having to stand in for some student who hadn't wanted to do what she had expected."

"Good father," Anna remarked.

"Hmm? In that sense. Oh, we didn't have any problem with it by then, long before then."

"But now she's married?" Marge asked.

"Yes, with two boys now. Of course, that stopped for a while; they were engaged for a year before they married. Then they would visit us about once a month, dutifully, not much fun. After a few visits, when he said that he really had work to do over the weekend, I told him that he didn't have to feel obligated to come, so she came alone after that. The first time we didn't, but then the next time and thereafter, once she was having her period, but that didn't happen again.

"When the boys were still toddlers, that wasn't a problem, but then for a couple of years. Of course, it wasn't much fun for them to visit their depressed grandmother, so so when they were bigger, they stayed home with dad. Now she visits to see that I'm keeping house, maybe to see if there is lipstick or something suggesting a woman friend. Not yet, and maybe because we enjoy seeing each other so much. Hmm! Seeing so much of each other."

We all chuckled, and Marge remarked: 

"I like that." 

"She sure was direct," Anna remarked, adding: "more so than I was. Well, I guess I was pretty forward, like I wrote after we had."

"Wrote me," I clarified: "till then her favorite older man. Oh, your last remark was good; Anna titled her story: He wanted to see more of me. 

Sans chuckled and remarked: 

"Guess some fathers have a lot in common."

"Sounds like it. I reread it occasionally," I remarked, looking back at her with a grin.

"I do too, still somewhat surprised about what I did." she replied, grinning.

"Sounds good," Sans replied, giving her a quick grin over his shoulder.

"I'll send it to you, but your story was also very good." Anna replied.

"Thank Daphne, well, maybe not - I won't - she doesn't need to know that I told you."

[Anna's story was posted last year with that title by the author.]

We were approaching Avignon, and Sans started to tell what we would see, getting a refresher of his explanation of the history and learning more about Romanesque architecture. Anna knew more about that than Marge and I did, adding to something he said, or asking questions that he answered, so we learned - at least, heard - more. 

Recalling the talk about a picnic on the way back - not really a "picnic" - I found myself worrying that their sharing their better knowledge, enjoying it together, might bring them closer at the "picnic." I admonished myself that I shouldn't anticipate; besides, I had licked her pussy the night before, and - oh! - that morning she had sucked my cock like no one else ever had! Would she want to do that with Sans? Not at the picnic, I hoped; I didn't want to watch that. 

Not the kind of thoughts to have when one is in a 900 year-old church and hearing about the popes buried there.

We had lunch. I wanted to be a little extravagant, but the others insisted on a simple place, we shared a liter flagon of open wine. Before the bill came, I asked Sans to find out if we could have a bottle of it to take with us. We could, filled in a liter water bottle. Anna gave me a grin. Maybe Marge also smiled, and I didn't notice. Sans suggested a bottle of water, and it was also put on the bill, making me feel a little better about my invitation. 

A couple of the museums were closed on Tuesday, so we went to one that wasn't. They accepted my invitation to pay for everyone's admission. Anna snorted with scowl, when she saw that it was open until 6 pm. Sans noticed and with a slight smirk and remarked: 

"I don't think we'll really want to see everything, and I don't want to translate every label."

"I know that I don't want to," Marge remarked, not without a chuckle as she glanced at Anna. 

"I don't either," I agreed.

With snorts and smiles, all of us having confirmed that we understood that we wanted time for our non-picnic, we entered the museum. The collection was interesting enough to keep us occupied for a while, longer than I had expected. Maybe no one could think of a tactful way to suggest we had seen enough. Anna came to our rescue, her bladder did, or maybe she only feigned that it did. 

Looking at a couple of objects, she seemed not able to stand still. As we moved on to another item, she murmured: 

"I've got to go."

I think she blushed a little. Because she was embarrassed that she again had to admit it; or because she had been planning her excuse? It didn't matter. Sans nodded and replied: 

"And I'm getting thirsty from all my talking."

I didn't like his immediate support of her oblique suggestion that we had seen enough. Was he recalling that she had said that she wanted to suck his cock like that?! I couldn't blame him, but I wanted her to fuck me like she had him at our previous picnic, and to suck her breasts - like she wanted us to, but he could do that, too.

We all were already turning to leave the exhibitions. We separated to go the "Messieurs" and "Mesdames." I was a little embarrassed from my thoughts, standing next to him at the urinals.

Could he read my thoughts? He glanced over and said: 

"Thanks again for lunch - and the wine. ... Which one? Your choice."

I blushed; he had read them. I couldn't just say that I wanted to do it - whatever - with Anna. I almost blurted softly: 

"She was with you out there last time."

Why couldn't I have said that I had been with Marge, had to refer to Anna?

He only looked down at his cock and replied: 

"And you were with Marge, fine with me." 

We didn't look at each other as we washed our hands, maybe both a little embarrassed at our having clarified the situation that way. Of course, Marge and Anna could still express a preference, and we two would agree, but, at least, we two had. As we left the men's room, I snorted, wondering if they had had a similar exchange. 

Whether they had or hadn't, when we returned to the car, and Sans opened the front passenger door, nodding to Marge, she smiled and got in. I opened the door for Anna, also receiving a smile, and I joined her on the backseat. 

The drive to the picnic spot was faster this time, since Sans knew where it we were going. In the interest of safe driving, I hoped Marge didn't have her hand on his thigh, like Anna's was on mine. It had first just brushed the side of mine. My leg must have twitched. I know it did, when her fingers crept up on to it, and hers did, when my hand held it. We didn't glance at each other, just hummed softly, and our fingers moved on the inside of each other's thigh. My cock also wanted to creep up, but couldn't, just stiffening in the confines of my shorts. Was her pussy going moist? 

When Sans turned off the road, I hoped that he and Marge wouldn't be surprised to see the bulge in my pants. By now, Anna's fingers were pretty close to it, and mine, closer to her pussy. Sans parked. As we got out of the car, I helped my cock move up. I didn't have to worry about what they might think. 

While Sans got the blanket from the trunk, Marge started to unbutton her blouse. Before he returned, both blouses were unbuttoned. We all smirked, nodding. Before we were under our tree, there was just a button or hook keeping pants and skirts from dropping.



Bastille Day Ch. 12



When Sans turned off the road, I hoped that he and Marge wouldn't be surprised to see the bulge in my pants. By now, Anna's fingers were pretty close to it, and mine, closer to her pussy. Sans parked. As we got out of the car, I helped my cock move up. I didn't have to worry about what they might think. While Sans got the blanket from the trunk, Marge started to unbutton her blouse. Before he returned, both blouses were unbuttoned. We all smirked, nodding. Before we were under our tree, there was just a button or hook keeping pants and skirts from dropping. 

While he spread the blanket, my shirt and the blouses slipped off. He stood back up, grinning, as he and I watched them unhook their bras, no tantalizing striptease. They just returned our grins as they revealed their breasts and aroused nipples. As we shuffled out of our shoes and sandals, skirts and pants dropped, followed by underpants. My cock dropped down with mine, but his was just as full, our "plums" almost fully exposed. We both jostled our balls to loosen our sacks from our thighs.

For a moment, we looked at each with slight smirks, chuckling as our eyes did what they shouldn't in the resort, dropping down to look at breasts and shaven pussies; his and mine, also at each other's cock. 

"I'm still thirsty," he remarked. I had been carrying the two bottles and asked: 

"Wine or water?"

"Water."

I stooped to pick up the bottle, and we all sat down on the blanket, very close, since we had forgotten to bring towels. I opened it and passed it to him. He drank and offered it around. We all drank in turn, and I screwed the lid back on the bottle. Another moment of silence. I looked at him and said: 

"We're not going to do it again."

"Not now," he agreed with a smirk and wink.

"Hmm! We wouldn't have let you, ... now," Anna responded with a grin, putting her hand on my knee. Marge snorted and put hers on his knee and agreed: 

"Not now, but if you want to again, that was almost as much fun to watch."

"Just 'almost'!" Anna replied with emphasis, her hand moving to my thigh.

When she glanced at my cock, I felt it move, just a reflex, nicer than if I had consciously made it move. Marge may have also noticed; she hummed and murmured: 

"Not even 'just almost.' Lie down."

We had gotten passed being subtle about what we all knew we were going to do. Sans and I glanced at each other with smiles, rocking our heads about how we should lie down. We stretched out head to foot diagonally on the small blanket. They had to move to make space for us, Anna then straddling one of my legs. Marge was moving between his, about level with my head. They looked at each other, chuckling, and then at us, and then at the cock in front of them. Mine moved again, now almost about to rise.  

As they leaned down, Anna's hand slid under my loose sack, playing with my balls for a moment. My cock lifted off them. She hummed, glancing up at me with a grin, and then her face disappeared, and her fingers raised it to her mouth. A kiss and lick over its little hole, and then her warm, moist lips were around my cock, the tip of her tongue finding where it was most sensitive, most deliciously sensitive!

My thigh drew up between hers; she rocked her hips down, her pussy pressing on my knee. She hummed, which felt good on my cock. "Mmmm!" She was sucking my cock deeper. Marge wiggled her hips, calling attention to her ass between his legs, level with my head. She couldn't expect him to do anything; I reached over and found her pussy with my fingers, moist pussy. She hummed emphatically with another wiggle of her hips. Her pussy felt good, more than just moist when my finger slipped in it with a wet noise, making her moan, as it held my fingers tighter. She liked that, moaning, but on as a prelude to something better. She moaned again and raised her head and demanded softly: "Fuck!" 

She didn't wait for a response, raising her hips and beginning to move up over Sans. Anna was only a few moments behind her. Sans and I had to move apart to let them straddle our hips, and then their hands were guiding our cocks to their pussies. For a second or two, I could see his in her hand, see the purplish pink head of his cock being rubbed between her pussy lips, until it disappeared. If Sans was watching, he also saw my cock slip into Anna's pussy. 

Four deep moans! We all had agreed why we liked oral sex so much, but a cock belongs in a cunt!

That word just slipped out in my thoughts - the alliteration.

"Finally, good!" Anna murmured, and then her tongue was trying to get in my mouth. It didn't have to try hard, nor mine, both of them wanting to caress and be sucked. My hands found her breasts. As I aroused her stiff nipples, we continued to kiss, until she retrieved her tongue and demanded softly: "Suck them!"

She moved up a little and presented one to my mouth. I did, delighting, liking that I could arouse her while our hips held still, that we could enjoy the anticipation. Well, her hips weren't entirely still, but that just increased the anticipation of how it would feel for my cock when we really started to fuck. She moaned and offered me her other nipple. How much anticipation could we stand, could my cock stand, feeling her pussy contract, making it twitch?

I moaned, and she moaned, and then moved back, my cock sliding deeper in her pussy, all the way, feeling it tighten closer down on my cock. "Um-hmmm!" she moaned, and her pussy clutched again. 

Enough anticipation! Fuck! I drew my knees up and began to rock my hips. Sans' knees also drew up. I had forgotten about them and glanced over. Oh, his hand sliding down between her hips. Anna would want that too. She did, responding with a nod and emphatic moan. 

Fucking is a reflex, a very natural reflex, our hips rocking, and the women's rocking. And for our fingers on or in their assholes, it was only a reflex to move them. 

We all came. I hoped the others' orgasm were as good as mine, it sounded like it and seemed that they were. We all took several deep breaths with sighing moans. Anna's and my stomachs were rising and falling against each other, a very nice way to share our recovering from the exertion of our orgasms. 

Marge sat up, and then Anna did. I fondled her breasts for a few moments, both of us grinning, and then sat up, like Sans was, and we kissed them. I remarked: 

"Now I am thirsty, not just water, but also water."

The others nodded vigorously with smiles, and the women moved off us. I found the bottles, handing him the wine bottle and drinking from the water bottle. While I passed it to Anna, he opened the bottle with the wine, just a screw top. He and Marge drank from the water bottle, and then he raised the bottle of wine to Anna with a smirk and remarked: 

"I hope you don't mind that we didn't have another picnic."

"Hmmmm! You know I don't; would have been just a waste of time."

We all snickered, nodding. He replied: 

"Then, here's to you," and drank, handing her the bottle.

She grinned and drank and handed it to Marge, who remarked: 

"As if we all didn't," and drank, handing the bottle to me.

"Um-hmm!" I agreed, holding the bottle up towards Anna with a grin, and then drank. Sans drank again, and then we all smiled wryly. 

I wondered if the others were also a little surprised that we could all want so much sex, wondering if I had fucked my wife as often as I had Marge and Anna, certainly not two or three times a day, not even during our honeymoon. Okay, two or three times a day here, including oral sex, but we certainly hadn't done that very often, and never so good.

Sans snorted and took another sip of wine, passing the bottle to Anna again, and remarked: 

"Never thought anything would be like this, that a man my age could ... enjoy himself so much."

"About what I was thinking," I agreed, accepting the bottle from Anna, gesturing with it in a silent toast to her and Marge and drinking. I handed it to her. She nodded with smile, looking at him, and said: 

"I was about to say that you have been nicest thing that has happened for us, but, of course, that is not quite right." She smiled at me and Anna, continuing: 

"Well, maybe, or we wouldn't be here."

Anna and I nodded, and she drank and handed the bottle on to Sans. He smiled and replied: 

"But you, all of you are certainly being the nicest thing that has happened for me."

He raised the bottle, looking at each of us, and drank. When he offered it to Anna, she shook her head with a smile, then smirked and replied: 

"It's been our pleasure, you can be sure."

We all chuckled, nodding. He offered the bottle to me and Marge, we also refusing it, and said: 

"Not just yours, and our vacation isn't over yet."

We all nodded more emphatically and then did drink another round of wine, sort of to confirm our consensus and in agreement that we were looking forward to a few more days together. 

Although there was still plenty of time for the rest of the drive back to the resort, we agreed to return. When we stood up, there were obvious spots on the blanket where the women had been sitting. They looked apologetic, Sans snorted and said: 

"Not your fault, probably more from us. Something to remember you - us - by."

We all nodded again. I remarked: 

"Before Anna says anything, maybe we should all go."

With snickers, we did, standing a line watching each other's stream arch out. When I snorted and held my cock up and pressed to make mine arch further. Sans chuckled and did the same, muttering: 

"Like schoolboys."

"In France, too?" I asked.

"Of course!"

Marge and Anna snickered, more like giggles - appropriate, if we were acting like schoolboys. Anna rocked her hips up, but her stream was dying down. Marge snorted and remarked: 

"Give up; we can't; just have to let the schoolboys show off."

We all laughed. Someone suggested we use the rest of the water to clean up a bit, and we all did, using our underpants to dry ourselves, and got dressed again, without underwear. Back in his car, during the drive, I wondered if that had been a good idea, when Anna's hand was again on my thigh, especially when she pulled her skirt up from under my hand. I was rather pleased, however, that my cock responded again - a man my age! At least, with much younger women.

I think she wanted me to have a bulge in my pants when we got out of the car in the parking lot, an obvious bulge, unrestrained by shorts. She did, smirking at my discomfort. As we agreed that we wanted to shower, it was only a bulge in my left pant leg. Didn't some men have cocks that were always that big? How much bigger when they were aroused? Marge suggested that we split up, nodding for Anna to go with Sans. They both looked pleased. He suggested that we meet in his room to finish the wine before dinner, and we went our ways.

Marge snorted and asked: 

"How long should we leave them alone together?"

"Hmm? Just long enough for a shower, if you ask me, or they could be wondering what we were doing. You weren't thinking about that, were you?"

"Oh no! Of course not. Men your age have are like some medicines: only to be taken after meals, well, before or after."

She laughed with me. We took our shower together and went to Sans' room.

Apparently, their shower had taken longer; Sans was still drying himself when he opened the door. When we glanced down at his engorged cock - below half-mast - he snorted and remarked: 

"I tried to tell her not to, that you would be coming."

Anna was also still drying herself - always attractive to watch - smirking. Marge chuckled and replied: 

You were right. Anna, like I told him, men their age are like some medicines: only to be taken before or after meals."

"This is before dinner," Anna answered with a grin."

"Only after dinner, since it was so long after lunch."

We all chuckled. Anna feigned a scowl and agreed: 

"Oh, all right. Hm-hmm! Some medicines, the effect of some medicines wears off before it's time to take them again."

"Not for men," I replied.

Sans nodded with a grin, and we all snickered. He tossed his towel at her and said: 

"But maybe we can all have a little of this medicine," and turned to find the half empty wine bottle. 

Anna turned to hang up their towels in the bathroom. When he sat down on his bed, we two joined him. Anna returned and joined us, and the bottle was passed. We all just sipped, wanting to leave enough for the next person. Marge remarked to Sans: 

"Your wine is a lot better, now that we're here, recalling how good it is."

"I hope so, but this is pretty good, considering."

As the bottle was passed again, we thanked him for taking us to Avignon again. I was wondering if Anna would say something about our "picnic." She didn't, but probably all our better smiles suggested that we all were recalling it. 

Then it was time for dinner. The people we had been talking with at breakfast gestured for us to join them and wanted to hear about our outing. Since they were Ron and Willy and their girls, who knew all about us, we admitting that we had had a picnic. They all smirked, as expected. Anna snorted and added: 

"But we didn't have anything to eat, just wine."

Snickers! One of the men - it doesn't matter which, since she had slept with them both - whispered: 

"You didn't eat anything?" 

"Just a little, a ... 'Vorspeise'," she whispered back, glancing at Marge to translate.

"Hm-hmm! An 'appetizer'." 

Soft, warm chuckles and restrained smirks; people at the next tables didn't need to understand. I hoped they didn't understand English. The other one - Willy or Ron - whispered: 

"Pity, one can't do that here in the fresh air, not like last year."

His girlfriend snorted at remarked: 

"We don't need to, and this is a nice place; people don't do that here in public."

"Just with close friends," the other girl remarked.

More smirks. Marge glanced at Sans and replied: 

"Maybe if you get up at dawn."

More smirks. One of the girls remarked, with a glance at both men: 

"If you didn't," she lowered her voice: "want to 'party' all night."

Even more smirks. Sans changed the subject, saying that it was a pity that they couldn't see something of the countryside, suggesting that the resort might know a taxi that that wasn't too expensive for the four of them. They liked the idea, and we finished our meal without any more references to having sex.

As we left the restaurant, Sans said that he still had more bottles of his wine, suggesting that we go to his place. Marge said that it was too good to drink from the bottle, and I offered to fetch our glasses. As I turned to go, I looked back at Anna with a grin and said: 

"But keep your pants on until you've had your medicine." 

I turned away, hearing them snicker, and hurried to get our glasses. When I joined them again, they all still had their pants on, figuratively speaking: soft nipples and his cock as relaxed as mine was. 

He was waiting with the opened bottle to fill our glasses. He tasted the wine, and then we all drank, agreeing that it was much better than the other wine. I'll admit that I was wondering if Anna would say anything about medicine, but we talked about what we had seen in Avignon. She did get to show off her better knowledge, but that was all right - even if she did glance at his cock after he nodded his agreement with a smile. 

We were finishing our second glasses of wine, and that subject waned, talking about the last museum. Then Anna chuckled and said: 

"Then I really did have to go the bathroom. Marge thought it had been a good idea, but wasn't sure.

"We weren't either," I replied: "but it still would have been a good idea."

I wondered if Anna was suggesting we move on to talk about what happened after that, as Sans agreed:

"Yes," and asked: "More wine?" 

We all shook our heads, and he suggested catching up on the new with his laptop. He turned his chair to the desk and turned it on, and we joined him. When he glanced back and gestured that Anna could sit on his lap, she glanced at Marge and me. We nodded with smiles, and she did, facing the laptop. We two stood behind the chair and let them take turns finding newspaper websites, telling us what French and German papers were reporting, and then finding US and UK papers for us. The world was still upset by the NSA's activities; Germany's defense minister was facing a committee about two problems with drones; and other news that made us yawn. 

I was a little surprised that Sans' hands stayed on the edge of the table, when Anna was clicking the keys; it seemed so natural that he would want to hold her nice breasts. When one of us stifled another yawn, someone else yawned. Marge chuckled and murmured: 

"My turn to say I have to go."

We all chuckled, nodding, and went: Marge and Anna on the toilet, Sans and I together at the washbasin. Since no one suggested washing, it seemed that we were tacitly agreed that we had done enough already. I thought so. 

We returned to the room, now darker, but not really late enough to go to bed. Go back to ours? Leave Sans alone? Leave Anna with him, since he and I had agreed that she could be with me at the "picnic"? He glanced at us and said: 

"You can stay here, if you want. I would like that."

Of course, we agreed, then all wanting a good drink of water, and got in bed with Marge and Anna between us, lying on our backs, looking up at ceiling in the dim light. Marge thanked him again for showing us Avignon, Anna and I agreeing. He replied that it had been a pleasure for him, and that he had enjoyed that Anna (who was lying next to him) had added information. I could be generous now, and agreed that I had been impressed with her knowledge of history and architecture.

Had Anna reach down and held his cock, like Marge had mine, replying: 

"I was too. It was a very nice outing."

I nodded. Maybe only then did Anna hold his; he snorted and replied: 

"Any time, ... well, almost any time, depending on what you want to do with them."

Not holding his cock, fondling his balls. We all chuckled, and Anna replied: 

"Just like to know they're there, ... for now."

Marge nodded and fondled my soft cock. I knew she understood that it wasn't going to respond, but it still felt nice, like it did when I fondled it, usually wondering if I wanted to do more, often in the morning, regretting that I had to get up, even if the alarm hadn't yet gone off. Her fingers gathered up my balls, also like mine then would have. I snorted and asked: 

"Having fun? Feels like what I sometimes do."

"Playing with your loose balls?"

The others chuckled. Sans replied for me: 

"Of course, when no one else does."

"Like me," Anna remarked, chuckling.

"Don't you both, too? Well, whatever you can."

"Of course, don't we?" Marge replied, adding: 

"Just feels nice, even if I know I'm not going to do more."

"Hm-hmm! But I usually do," Anna responded, then adding: 

"Unless we can't, you know, ... or I have to get up."

"We know why," Sans remarked with a chuckle.

"Don't you, too?"

"Of course, but we just have." 

"Um-hmm! Like that," she agreed.

We chuckled again. I imagined what it was feeling like for Marge's fingers, recalled how it felt for my own when they were fondling my balls. After another few seconds of silence, Sans snorted and remarked, obviously in response to what Anna was doing: 

"Don't expect anything to happen; it's been a long day. 

That seemed to suggest that we just go to sleep. Marge removed her hand and turned to me, and we kissed, just a goodnight kiss. Anna and Sans did the same, and we all got comfortable with our thighs overlapping. As I was about to say goodnight, Anna remarked: 

"I wonder what it's like to have twins, to have them both sucked."




Bastille Day Ch. 12



We all chuckled again. Sans replied: 

"Tomorrow, maybe."

"Then mine too," Marge said. 

"Tomorrow. Goodnight," I murmured, and the others responded.

Marge and I fell asleep with our arms around each other, the others too. 

Four people in bed together is a little crowded, as we had already discovered. When I wanted to roll over, I woke up as my shoulder extended over the edge of the mattress. No way to avoid disturbing Marge - I did remember that I had been sleeping with her. I moved back as I rolled onto my other side, hearing her hum. Her arm slipped further around me, and I fell asleep again. 

I must have been stirred by other movement behind me during the night, but not so that I woke up enough to remember. When I did, it was fairly light in the room. Only when my hand found my semi-hard cock and soft sack, did I recall that Marge's arm had been around me. Right, I was in bed with the three of them and - hm-hmm - fondling myself, like we had discussed before we went to sleep. 

Shit! And I had been dreaming again about trying to suck my own cock! Why that, when I had Anna and Marge to suck it? So good! But it wasn't interested in how they did. Got to go. 

I slipped from under the covers, tucking them back behind Marge, who had turned to Anna. She was lying on her back, Sans facing her. Hm-hmm! Both his and Marge's arms were resting on her, but their hands weren't on her breasts. Yeah, she wanted to have both of them sucked. But now I really had to go.

I used the washbasin to avoid making noise in the toilet, then silently rinsing the basin. Fondling my balls and now soft cock, I returned to the room. Marge had rolled back, and they all were looking at me, smirking when they saw where my hand was. I just smirked back, holding my balls and flipping my cock up with my thumb, and said: 

"I told you that I liked to fondle them, when no one else did."

We all chuckled. Sans replied: 

"I like to, too."

His hand was moving down to his cock, visible under the covers on Anna's thigh, but Anna's hand was faster. She snickered and remarked triumphantly with a grin: 

"I do, too!"

He snorted with a nod and replied: 

"But I bet you have to go too, now."

She scowled, nodding, her hand holding his cock up under the covers and moving up and down. His hand slid past hers and found his balls. Marge snorted with a wry grin and said: 

"Before you both wet the bed."

They all got up. I thought his cock was more aroused than mine had been. It should have been from what Anna had been doing. He grinned at me, when he saw that I was looking at it, now wagging back and forth as he followed Marge to the bathroom Anna also gave me a grin, following him. I followed them. 

As I expected, Marge used the toilet and let them go in the shower. I stood next to Marge, and we watched them. Anna smirking as her stream arched out. It took a couple of seconds before Sans' did, since his cock was still sticking out, but then it splashing somewhere between Anna's navel and her pussy. We all chuckled. Anna gave a pleased smile and then grasped his cock, aiming it higher on her stomach. 

Only Sans chuckled, I expect because Marge and I had expected her to do that. He gave us a slightly wry smile and turned on the water. We watched them wash each other. Even though we had seen them naked for so many days, it was still an attractive sight to see them enjoying soaping each other, especially, of course, when he played with her breasts and made her hum; when he washed her pussy and reached around to wash her asshole. When she began to wash his cock and balls, I recalled pleasantly how it must feel for him. Maybe Marge was recalling how it felt for Anna. 

Her arm unconsciously brushed my leg. Or did I unconsciously brush her arm with my leg? Whichever, then seemingly just as unconsciously, her hand slid up my thigh, her fingers sliding up under my balls and fondling them. Now I knew how it was feeling for him - nice, and probably nice for Marge's fingers.

And nice for Anna's; they were washing his cock and balls longer than necessary. We could see that he was enjoying it, that his cock was. He glanced up from watching her and over at us with another wry smile, then snorting when he saw where Marge's hand was. My cock was also beginning to feel aroused. Anna glanced over and grinned with a nod. Then she chuckled and let the shower rinse his cock, dropping to her knees, the water pouring down on her head. She could only have one thing in mind, fondling his balls with his cock inches from her mouth. 

I had been assuming that we weren't going to do anything that morning, although I could have assumed that she might want to. When the head of his not yet fully aroused cock disappeared between her lips, he gave us an almost apologetic smile, rolling his eyes. Of course, he wasn't going to stop her, even though his expression suggested that he also hadn't been anticipating our doing anything. 

But Anna was, and my cock responded to my seeing what she was doing. Marge chuckled and glanced over at my rising cock. With a hum, she glanced up at me, smirking, and pulled me around in front of her. You don't resist, when someone has you by the balls. Her other hand raised my cock, and she leaned down. When she licked my cock, I very quickly changed my assumptions. 

If they wanted to, we would. What? Just suck? Even if they loved to, that couldn't satisfy them. Whatever they wanted! Having our cocks sucked was a delightful way to start! An appetizer, what was the German word Anna had used? I reached down and fondled Marge's breasts. Was Sans doing that, too? I couldn't see them now. If they wanted to do something else, they both had enough experience with us to stop in time. 

Marge hummed, sounding like she was agreeing with me, but probably it was in response to my squeezing and rolling her nipples. When my cock twitched in her mouth, and she hummed again. But then Anna remarked: 

"Not just this; we want it too."

Marge snorted with a nod and raised her head. My cocked slipped from her mouth, as she looked up at me with a grin, nodding again. Anna demanded: 

"Bed, all four of us. Come, Marge."

Marge shrugged with another grin and stood up. Anna was already leading Sans to the room, who had turned off the water at some point, but they were still dripping wet. Anna repeated: 

"Come, Marge." 

That suggested what she wanted to do, their licking each other with us fucking them. Good idea! The best! We hurried after them, seeing Anna dive down on the bed with her feet in the pillows. As Sans was going around the bed, she rolled to face us and gestured to Marge. Marge snorted and joined her, and I followed. So much for thinking we weren't going to do anything!

I curled my hips in behind Marge's. Anna's fingers helped my cock find her pussy. We both more chuckled than moaned as it slipped into her; we had done this often enough not to respond with surprise at the arousing sensations. Anna's hand disappeared and then was on my hip, drawing it closer, and also herself, as she buried her face between Marge's thighs. Sans must have been experiencing about the same from what I could see of Marge's arm and head. Then we all did moan, maybe the women more emphatically than Sans and I did. 

Because they were enjoying more sensations, I wondered. They were: not just having cocks in their pussies and feeling them being licked, but also the pleasure of licking them. Maybe making it feel like they were licking their own? I hoped so.

Mmmm! Making my cock twitch! Were they more aware of what they were doing for each other than of the sensations of their pussies responses? Some women could only have a clitoral orgasm - not them - but they sure loved to be aroused that way! But it must be better with a cock in their pussies, what they were meant to squeeze - like that! - to arouse the cock, to make it twitch and surge and want to spurt. But not yet, please. 

When Anna had held my hip, I had found her wet breast with my hand, fondling it while these thoughts were going through my mind. I pressed it back a little with my last thought, hoping to suggest to her that she let me cool down, but she just held my hip closer, her fingers sliding closer to my asshole. Maybe if I stopped fondling her. My hand turned and slid up Marge's stomach. Sans was holding her upper breast, so my hand found her other one. She hummed with a nod. 

If they didn't want to wait, ... They didn't, at least, Anna certainly didn't; her fingertips finding and arousing my asshole. My hips twitched. Anything they wanted. I hoped Sans was also ready to come. 

Fuck! Marge groaned, and her pussy contracted tighter than before. "Um-hmm!" I responded, relieved, pleased to hear Sans and Anna also moan. Then I forgot about them, only aware of the arousing sensations on my cock in Marge's pussy, as I fucked her as hard as I could.

That I could have another so good orgasm after all we had done the day before?! Marge and Anna could, of course: women's capacity to enjoy multiple orgasms. Well, they each only had one, but they didn't have to worry about whether they would spurt again and again the way I wanted to. I think I did, hoping that Sans also had.

Our hips all stilled, and the women drew their heads back, all of us taking deep breaths and exhaling with long sighs. Four hands wandered, all finding breasts to fondle. Sans' and mine exchanged with each other and with that of Anna or Marge, when we discovered one of their hands also fondling that breast. Yes, it had been good for all of us.

As our hands made a last round, we chuckled. Sans murmured: 

"I didn't know that I wanted to do anything again this morning."

"Me neither," I agreed.

"But you did, thank goodness," Marge remarked, then adding: "but I was also feeling about the same."

"Me too," Anna agreed: "but then, well, it just seemed like we all wanted to."

"Oh, we did!" Sans and I replied together. I added: 

"After you just couldn't leave alone his cock in the shower. 

We chuckled again and got up, returning to the bathroom: two showers and shaving, and then going to breakfast, later than usual. Did any smiles when others greet us suggest that they knew why?

We spent the whole day being good nude resort guests. 



I don't know what thoughts the others had when seeing so many other naked people of all ages. How many naked girls and women had I seen there and at Cap d'Agde? Hundreds? Of course, many - most - of them were unremarkable, but there were always one or the other that had an unusually attractive figure - for me, not the biggest breasts. I guess, those who looked like they could have modeled for the classical Greek and Roman statues, also for 19th century painters - not for some of Renoir's nudes. And there were some young teenagers with surprisingly advanced figures, and others, who were just as attractive because they seemed so unconscious of their budding youth. No, I didn't have thoughts about wanting do anything with them and wouldn't have had, even if I hadn't been in such good company.

Did Anna and Marge look more at the men's cocks? I did, more than I had a couple of days before. Sans and I were average, statistically speaking, close to the mean. Did shaving make them look longer? No, just more demonstrable about their awareness of them. Of course, there were some that were longer, but seeing them only made me feel inadequate. There were just as many, however, that were smaller. Hm-hmm! Sometimes just a little thing nestling in his hair, making me think of a young rabbit or bird hiding in its nest. One like that, that was shaved, let me think of a hairless young boy, except that the man was bigger and more muscular than me - strange contrast.

Of course, we - maybe only I - didn't just look at cocks and breasts, joining in daytime activities, and after dinner, attending what entertainment was provided. When it was time to go to bed, Marge suggested: 

"We don't all have to sleep together."

I was a little surprised, but in complete agreement, recalling the thought that we wouldn't do anything that morning. I nodded, and Sans and Anna nodded. Who with whom? It didn't matter, not him with me. We looked at each other, then Anna looked at him again. If they wanted to? I would have, with her, but she had looked at him. They exchanged slight smiles and looked at us. We nodded, returning their smiles, and all said goodnight.

As Marge and I returned to our room, she snorted and murmured: 

"I don't know if we should try to taper off, or ...?"

"Or try not to?"

"Something like that."

We exchanged smiles. 

Maybe we tried not to, but not very well. After a few moments in bed together, her hand found my cock and balls, and she murmured - like she had a year before: 

"If we want to sleep, we probably have to."

"Um-hmm."

As she began to move around, I fondled one of her breasts, and then we were sucking and licking. I was surprised when she drew her head back and said: 

"It won't be what Anna did - does."

"Wouldn't be tapering off."

"You're sweet. Hm-hmm! Just don't taste sweet."

"You do, at least, I think so."

Her lips slipped back around my cock, and my tongue returned to where it had been. She couldn't have done it better than he had, but also couldn't have done it less good. 

We didn't hurry, letting me wonder again how it was feeling for her in her mouth, also thinking that Anna couldn't enjoy licking her pussy more than I did. 

My tongue had been moving just as a practiced reflex. I forgot about that and returned to enjoying Marge's clitoris. We had our orgasms, gave them to each other, relaxing with appreciative moans. When my cock slipped from between her lips, dropping down, she murmured: 

"I was thinking about what she was probably doing to him, like with you two days ago, but I didn't want to try."

"We settled that before. I wasn't expecting that you would, wasn't wanting you to try."

"You're sweet. Said that before. That must be ..., must feel very arousing."

"It did, also the surprise when she did it, but what you did was just as good."

"You are sweet. What you did, too."

She crawled around and gave me a semen-flavored kiss. We curled up and did go to sleep.

In the morning, we were lying apart on the double bed. As I was waking up, for a moment I wondered where I was, not feeling anyone in bed with me for the first time in days - nights. As that realization came to me, I did, of course, then remember where and that I was with Marge, that Anna was with Sans. Had she done it to him too, swallowing his cock? She had told him that she would.

As usual, my hand discovered that I had an erection, but - also as usual - I then felt that I had to go. 

I tried to slip from under the covers without waking Marge and went, in the washbasin to avoid noise in the toilet. When I returned to the room, Marge smiled at me and said: 

"Good morning. A whole night's sleep without waking up to turn over."

"Um-hmm, for a change. Good morning."

"Um-hmm, but also nice. I have to, too."

It was still a pleasure to see her nude as she sat up, revealing her breasts and then getting out of bed. I smiled, and she smiled. As she passed me, she murmured: 

"Still to early for a shower," and nodded back towards the bed.

I lay down again. A minute or two later, she joined me, both of us just looking up at the ceiling. I was quite happy with the idea that we wouldn't do anything, thinking that I knew her well enough - certainly in the biblical sense! - to assume that she felt the same way. After a moment or two of silence, she snorted softly and said: 

"This has been quite a trip, is being quite a trip."

I had been right, replying: 

"It sure is, a little different than we expected. Hope you don't mind."

"Oh no, just 'a little different.' Hm-hmm! I was about to say 'a little more,' but I expect that the three of us would have done just as much."

"Um-hmm, me too, ... well, 'more' for me."

"Um-hmm, I liked that you two did, that was nice."

"It was, ... not just to settle our curiosity."

"That's good, why not?"

"But a ménage à trois, like we expected, would have been very nice."

"Um-hmm! Just a threesome quietly doing everything they could."

"Like the first few days."

"Um-hmm, almost forgot about them, but this has been - is being - maybe better; two weeks with just the three of us might have gotten a little forced."

"Or we would have tapered off, but that still wouldn't have been so good. I mean, not so good as with Sans, that if we had tapered off, we might have begun to wonder why we were here."

"Something like that. Are we tapering off?"

"A little, right now, but I didn't want to do anything, and was thinking that you didn't."

"Um-hmm, last night too, splitting up. Oh, we will, just two more nights. Hm-hmm! I'll admit that I want to sleep with him again, and you probably want to sleep with Anna."

"You didn't suggest that we invite her just so you two could be together."

"No, but you could have admitted outright that you want to."

"That's not the kind of thing one says to the woman one is lying in bed with."

"I did."

"Thank you, so that I didn't have to."

She chuckled and rolled towards me, half on me, her thigh slipping down between mine. She smiled down at me and then puckered up her lips. I grinned and nodded, and we kissed. 

It got better than I expected, especially when her thighs held mine. My cock stirred, not enough for her to feel, but enough to start changing my idea that we wouldn't do anything. She retrieved her tongue and murmured: 

"You can suck my breasts."

I had changed my mind. As she drew herself up to offer them, her thigh slid deeper between my thighs, brushing my cock, and it pressed up on her thigh. She hummed. I couldn't see her face, just imagining her smile, and then my lips found a nipple. Had it already popped out? It was then, letting me suck and rub my tongue on it, Nice stiff nipple, letting me flip it back and forth - like playing with her clitoris. 

When she moved to present her other nipple, her thigh slid over mine, straddling me, letting my cock spring up. She felt it and hummed again, and again, as I began again to suck and nibble. She murmured: 

Don't guess Anna is going to get both of hers sucked at once, me neither."

I took that as the suggestion to slid my hand back up from her hip and played with her other stiff, still wet nipple. She chuckled and responded: 

"Next best thing."

Why hadn't the similarity of licking a nipple and clitoris occurred to me before? I had licked so many - no, licked hers and Anna's so many times. Oooh! And she was rubbing hers on my cock, where it felt most arousing for each of us! This wasn't tapering off. And if she was aroused enough to do that, her pussy was going to be able to capture my cock. She must feel it twitching. 

She drew up a little, letting it spring up, and then moved back, rocking her hips to find it again with her opening. 

"Mmmmm!" we both moaned as it slipped into her.

Fucking is always so good, at least, with all our experience together. But the eroticism of how we got there each time was so delightful, the anticipation, the variety of ways it happens, like our surprising change of mind about not wanting do anything. Anticipation is 90% ... But the last 10%, when fucking, is still the best part, even if it is always so much the same. Maybe couples on porn websites do it every way they can before their orgasms. Showing off; who wants to stop, once they have started?  

We didn't, maybe slowed down: kissing, enjoying what my finger was doing, sucking her breasts again, kissing again, but then only wanting our orgasms. We fucked as hard and fast as we could, moaning and groaning in our arousal and from the exertion. Very wet orgasms! 




Bastille Day Ch. 12



She collapsed on me, gasping and moaning with me. After a few breaths, she rocked her hips and extended her legs. I forgot to tell that she had drawn her knees up; had to be obvious from our fucking like that. Our stomachs rose and fell against each other as we recovered. Finally, she murmured: 

"So much for thinking about tapering off."

"Um-hmm, stupid idea."

"Hmm! I guess so. ... Hm-hmm! I was thinking that we would go to breakfast before they did, but I guess not."

"Um-hmm! 

We both chuckled. My cock had slipped out. We got up and had our shower, my shaving, and went to breakfast, exchanging smirks. They smiled at us, then smirking when we sat down at their table. Anna murmured: 

"We thought you would already be here."

"We did too," Marge replied: "but we talked a lot."

"Just talked?"

"Don't be indiscreet."

Sans smirked again and whispered: 

"She didn't want to talk."

Anna grinned, shaking her head, and replied softly: 

"And then you didn't want to either."

"Then she couldn't," he said with another smirk.

We all chuckled. Marge glanced at me and replied: 

"We can imagine why."

Anna nodded again with a grin. He also nodded, smirking broadly. She then said: 

"But we did talk. He offered to drive me to Paris on Saturday, when you have to leave. He could stay till Sunday morning, but said that he had spend Sunday at home catching up on emails and information from his office."

He nodded, this time looking a little apologetic about the obvious implication that she could spend another night with him. We nodded. I replied: 

"What a nice suggestion."

"It's a long drive," he remarked: "better to have company." 

He turned to her and asked: 

"Can you drive?"

She nodded. He smiled and said: 

"Maybe we can share the driving."

"Uhmm! If you think so, your nice big car."

"All the better," Marge responded.

We all nodded again with smiles and had our breakfast, and enjoyed another day as normal nude resort guests. 

That didn't keep me from observing all the others. 

Who is a "normal" nudist resort guest? Were we, maybe? But nudists, "naturists," weren't supposed to relate going nude with sex, and we certainly did. Of course, some of them did - those couples at Cap d'Agde who had frequented the open-sex end of the beach. But here? Had the many couples arrived together? What about the young and not so young women who still appeared to be unattached, with now well tanned breasts and shaven pussies? The single men? Not enough of them to go around?

At least the families seemed to be "true naturists." Don't stare, I admonished myself, but it was sweet to see how unconcerned the younger children were, and even sweeter to see how older girls were growing up to look like their mothers. I hoped the prematurely developing ones didn't get their mothers' pendulous breasts - not for a few years. 

And the older teenagers? Few around, all off at the youth activities. What did their parents think about that? Even they had spent all their family vacations at nudist resorts, they must know that late teenagers couldn't think about anything else - those rules about behavior, including a warning about STDs. Or were the kids really true naturists and didn't think about that? Very unlikely!

I didn't, of course, spend all day thinking about that; sometimes I thought about Anna, with the thoughts of a late teenager. Marge had said that she wanted to sleep with Sans, but did his offer to take Anna to Paris imply that they expected to sleep together again that night? Tomorrow night, if they wanted to, would be all right. Or would we all want to have a final night together? 

My thoughts as a teenager about whether a girl wanted to go out with me or someone else certainly hadn't been about whether or how she would sleep with me, usually not even if she would let me kiss her. And my ideas about how she could sleep with me had been extremely limited. I hoped that Marge would arrange things. Sans should be generous, having secured a final night with Anna in Paris. The thoughts that a man three times older than a late teenager could have!

I'm not sure just why it worked out. At dinner, of course, I tried to favor Anna a little, and she didn't seem impartial to my interest, but we all had flirted with each others at times. Maybe I was too busy to notice what Marge was doing. She had said that she wanted to spend the night with Sans, so she should have been working towards that. Or maybe Sans understood that it was my turn to sleep with Anna. Had she swallowed his cock, and again in the morning?! It had sounded like it at breakfast. He should want me to let her enjoy that, especially knowing that they would be together all day and night on Saturday. Another "picnic?" If they wanted to, as long as Anna wanted to swallow my cock again. Or didn't she want to try that again, hadn't with him, and I was assuming too much? Whatever? 

As we left the restaurant, Sans took Marge's hand and said: 

"If you two don't mind, I think it was nice just one-on-one, like last night."

"It was," I agreed, seeing Marge nod, and then feeling Anna's hand find mine.

We all smiled, looking at each other, Anna squeezing my hand when I looked at her. I wanted to grin, but didn't. It would have probably been a very lecherous grin, I thought, suddenly considering that the word "lecherous" could be related to "licking," most appropriate, if it were. 

We wished each other goodnight - with restrained smirks - and went our ways, Anna clasping my hand again, and I, hers. 

It was a lot earlier than usual for us to think about going to bed, but as we neared our room, my cock was already thinking about it. When I turned on the light in the room, Anna noticed, humming when she glanced up at my face with a smile. A cock-sucking smile, a lecherous smile? I didn't like to think about her with those terms, but I did, couldn't help myself.

"We'd better go, ... first," she murmured. I nodded and let her lead me to the bathroom. She "tinkled" in the toilet, grinning at me in the mirror, as I used the washbasin. If she licked her lips, it would be a lecherous grin. She did! I licked mine with a smirk and washed my cock. She flushed and took a washcloth and washed her pussy and asshole at the basin. When she gave me the washcloth, I remembered to wash my asshole, appreciating her perspicacity. What did she want to do? More than just put her finger in it? 

She smiled at me, nodding while I did. Whatever she wanted. She was a nice girl, a very nice girl, like I would have wanted a daughter to be; a very, very nice girl who enjoyed making a man very happy. Would I have wanted my daughter to be like that?! I guess I had said so on the drive to Avignon. And with me, like she was with her father?! Like Sans' daughter was with him? Probably, if both those fathers were so lucky.

I was brought back by Anna's murmuring: 

"I want to. You know how, easier than the first time, now."

She had with Sans! But Marge and I had assumed that. To hell with worrying about her being a nice girl; she was just a very, very nice one! I nodded with a smile, hoping that it didn't look lecherous. She led me back to the room, stepping aside to let me lie down. I was a little surprised that my cock had relaxed after all those thoughts. She gave me a pleased smile as she knelt on the bed and then straddled me. When she leaned down, I grasped her hips to draw them down on my face, but she murmured: 

"Just me, now; later," and raised my cock.

"Um-hmm," I agreed, continuing to hold her hips. 

It was full, but not stiff. She held it straight and pushed my foreskin down with her lips. As I felt her tongue caress my knob - not yet really a plum - I didn't have to hum, but I did. She sucked to draw it deeper in her warm mouth, but after a few seconds, it wanted to go deeper by itself, and she didn't have to hold it. 

Oh no, she didn't have to hold it, and not to keep it from going too deep! But not yet, she wanted to enjoy caressing it with her tongue - like I would have. That was so good! Feeling it twitch! "Uhmmm," felt good for me and for her! It was so good now to know how good it felt for her, know why she liked to do it. If he had had similar thoughts last night, ... if he wanted to do it again ...?

"Uhnnn!" She was already bobbing her head, my plum rubbing further back on her pallet. She'd said it was easier now; did that mean she wanted to swallow it sooner: more times; hold it for longer; make me come deep in her throat?! What had she done with him? Even further! The next time, the one after?! 

"Uhnnnn!" All the way, her chin down on my hair. "Uhnnn!" Fuck! Drawing her head back up again, all the way, slobbering and taking a deep breath, and another one. 

"It's easier after the first time," she muttered, and then my cock was back in her mouth. 

If she said so, ... It must have been; her head bobbed just a couple of times, and then went all the way down again. "Uhnnn! ... Uhnnn!" Still swallowing it! I felt her exhale and draw another breath, and felt her the muscles of her throat contract even tighter around my cock. OMG! 

She drew her head up again, still holding my cock. I felt her stomach press on mine as she drew another deep breath, and then she lowered her head again. No bobbing, right down, all the way again! 

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed softly. She nodded - with my cock deep in her throat! - and took another breath. Did she want me to come? Didn't she want to taste it? My cock could only try to twitch. 

I was a little relieved when she raised her head again, both because it was less arousing and because I could only imagine that it had been a strain for her, even though she wanted to. She gave a growling hum. Pleased with herself, or a reflex after having her throat fucked? 

She did want to taste it, just sucking and licking, and now the fingers of one hand crept around my hip and found my asshole. Couldn't expect her to do that while she was doing the other. Oh yes, she did want to taste it, moaning with me as my cock twitched and surged - as if I need any encouragement! And then I couldn't control my hips, more grunting than moaning as my cock spurted in her mouth, and she moaned with each spurt - more times than if she hadn't swallowed it before? It felt like it. 

I gave a final, long, pulsing moan, and then had to moan again, as her tongue swilled my semen around the head of my cock. "Un-hnn," she responded, and swallowed, finally releasing my cock to raise her head so that she could swallow again, all my semen going down her throat, where my cock had been.

She hummed, sounding like she was satisfied with what she had done - or with what she had just swallowed. I certainly was. She scrambled around, giving me a cock-sucking grin, and dropped down on me, offering her lips to kiss. I had been wrong; she hadn't swallowed it all. She chuckled, and I did. Chuckling again, she raised her head and remarked: 

"He forgot to speak English, when I did that."

"Hm-hmm! I don't speak French, but I can imagine what he could have said."

"Probably."



Bastille Day Ch. 13



"Hm-hmm! I don't speak French, but I can imagine what he could have said."

"Probably." 

We snickered and kissed again. I retrieved my tongue and said: 

"Now it's my turn. Sorry, my tongue isn't long enough to do anything like that."

"But your cock is, will be, ... better want to be, then."

"Um-hmm, then, but now I want to taste you."

She chuckled again, as she crawled up over my face. Her pussy was already moist, and not from her having washed it. Oh, and she must have shaved it that morning - with Sans' watching?

"Tastes good already," I murmured.

"Um-hmm," she agreed cheerfully.

I was in no mood to prolong my pleasure, and hers too, of course. When my tongue began to twitch over her clitoris, I recalled my thoughts when twitching Marge's nipples. I reached up to find Anna's, but first grasping her sides to raise her enough so that I could remark: 

"Don't know if you'll get both of them sucked."

She snorted and grabbed my wrists, pulling my hands to her breasts and then encouraging my fingers to play with her nipples. Maybe nipples and clitorises aren't so similar. The latter are more fun to lick and taste better. Not really, but my tongue could find where she did taste better and enjoy tasting it on her clitoris, until I had to refresh the taste. 

"Tastes good," she murmured with a chuckle. 

"Uhn-hnnn!" I agreed, appreciating that she understood why I was doing it, then recognizing that she must do the same when she was licking Marge's pussy. If Sans and I did it to each other like they did to us, it was only logical that they did it to each other like I was doing. What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Have to tell her - all of them - that later. 

Taste her again and then make her moan. She did, her hands encouraging my fingers to roll and squeeze her nipples. Then one of them disappeared. It brushed up my chest, touched my chin; only one place it could be heading. Should I have thought to rub her asshole? Maybe I eventually would have, but if she wanted to ... Oh yes, she had the day she arrived, when Marge had left us alone. Help yourself, help me. You know what feels good.

"Uhn-hnnn!" she responded, surely not to my thoughts, but to what her fingers were doing.

She began to moan each time she exhaled, and her pelvis began to twitch, her pussy contracting. 

I love it when a woman comes in my mouth! But most of her pussy juice flooded my chin, running down warm on my neck, and another spurt! But so good to know that it was being good for her; I was doing it for her, not for me, like she had done it for me. And how good!

She groaned and dropped down towards the head of the bed, turning her pussy from my mouth, as she supported herself on her arms. She moaned. I took a deep breath and sighed, pleased with my success. It couldn't have been as good for her as what she had done, but we weren't finished yet! 

Another moan and sigh. My hand found my cock; yes, aroused. Another softer sighing moan from her, and then a snort, and she asked - more a demand: 

"Where is it? Fuck." She didn't like that word. 

She was moving back down over me. It was very easy to find her wet opening with my cock. We both more growled than moaned as it slipped into her; her pussy had been wanting a cock in it, and my cock had just been waiting to be there. She rocked her hips down, and in went in up to the hilt, well, like that, our pubic hairs pressing together. She dropped down with an impassioned expression, that apparently didn't allow the smile or grin I was expecting, and gave another growling moan. But then the corners of her lips twitched, and she murmured: 

"God, that was good, but this is better, will be."

As I nodded, she planted a kiss on my lips, her tongue seeking mine. It didn't have to go far to find it; mine wanting to caress hers. Moans, her pussy making my cock surge. She chuckled and retrieved her tongue and murmured: 

"Even if you can suck only one at time."

As she started to move to let me, I urged her to let us sit up. She did. It helped that her hips pressed on my thighs to let me follow her, feeling my cock press even a little deeper in her tight pussy. She leaned back in my arms, and I lowered my head and found one of her nipples. Not as good as her clitoris, but still very good, and she moaned appreciatively, and her pussy squeezed my cock. Suck the other one, too, since she couldn't have them both sucked at once.

Nice, feeling her pussy tighten around my cock, and nice, because I knew I could enjoy the anticipation until we wanted to really fuck - sitting like this? Any way, however she wanted; it would be the best way. Till then, however, I could tickle her asshole. She gave a chuckling moan, and I felt her nod. Not just her asshole contracted. 

"Un-hnn!" I responded and sucked harder on her nipple, catching it with my teeth. She liked that too, responding with a sharp "oooh!" but then moaning. Her asshole relaxed and drew in again, inviting my fingertip to follow. Of course, I knew that felt arousing. It and her pussy tightened again. My cock couldn't go any deeper, but when they relaxed, my finger could. She moaned with another chuckle, nodding again. That happened again. Why does that feel arousing? But it does, and not just for her asshole. 

I was about to suck her other nipple again, when she gave a deeper moan and pushed me back. We dropped down on the bed, forcing my mouth to leave her breast, but then her tongue was in it, firm and wagging, finding mine, and mine hers. Fucking with our tongues, in my mouth and then in hers, and then with our hips - and my finger. 

Maybe her throat was not tighter than her pussy! It couldn't squeeze the length of my cock the way her pussy did, when our hips slapped together and held still for a moment to let us both feel it. But we only did that a couple of times, both with chuckling moans, and then they were slapping together again, as hard and fast as they could, my finger trying to keep up with them. 

We came! All wet and spurting. my cock in her pussy; her pussy flooding warm pussy juice on the base of my cock and running down between my thighs, as I grunted, and she gasped and groaned. Her head dropped down next to mine, and she collapsed on me, our stomachs pressing together as we recovered with deep breaths and sighing moans. 

As she managed to extend her legs without losing my cock, I suddenly regretted that sex with my wife had never been so good, but then assuaged myself with the thought that I hadn't known it could be, that I was very luck to now know, that Anna was even much luckier to know already. 

When our breathing returned to normal, she nodded silently. Then she must have recognized that my wilted cock was still in her pussy. It wasn't, after she tried to squeeze it. We both snorted, our stomachs moving on each other. She raised her head and kissed me, just a little better than a friendly kiss, and then moved off me, lying with her thigh over mine and her arm around me. I was glad that she didn't say anything, just rubbing my side, since I didn't know what to say. I rubbed her back in response. "Um-hmm," she responded. I agreed, and we just lay there.

We dozed off, at least, I did. She must have too; since I was awakened when she murmured: 

"Oh, here."

Her hand rubbed my side again. For sure, I didn't want to know where else she could have been thinking she was. With Sans? Her father? Anyone else? I replied softly, hoping my voice would confirm what she was thinking: 

"Um-hmm, here, as good as it could have been."

"Mmmm! Oh yes!"

Her hand rubbed again, and mine did. Then she murmured: 

"Shouldn't have said that."

"I wondered."

"You're both so good. Oh, really shouldn't have said that!"

"That's all right. After last night, why not? I don't mind."

She rubbed me again and murmured: 

"That's good. Thanks."

I rubbed her back, holding her a little closer, thinking: damned, if I were thirty years younger ...? But I wasn't.

"Covers, sleep?" she murmured.

"Um-hmm."

She sat up and drew the covers up from the foot of the bed, and rolled over with her back to me. I curled up behind her and held her breast. She put her hand on mine, and we said good night and fell asleep.

Like the night before with Marge, we separated and slept without disturbing each other until the morning. I was awakened by the feeling of her moving closer behind me and her arm then sliding around me. I found her hand, showing that I was awake, then wondering about my cock. I didn't want to move to check, but usually when I thought about it in the morning, I then felt whether I had to go or not. I didn't. Her fingers moved on me, and she murmured: 

"Awake?"

"Um-hmm. Nice being awakened like this."

"Sorry, if I did."

"Couldn't have been nicer."

"And nice to wake up and not be alone."

"Um-hmm, we'll have to get accustomed to that."

"Uhnng! I'm not looking forward to it."

"Me neither, but we didn't mind sleeping all night without being stirred."

"True, but then we won't wake up with someone."

"Unfortunately."

"Um-hmm."

Our hands both moved in confirmation. Then hers slipped from under mine, down my stomach. Before it found my cock and balls, she murmured: 

"I don't want to do anything, just like to hold them; you know me."

"Um-hmm, me neither," I agreed, not able to suppress the thought: and how we know each other!

My cock was all soft, her thumb slipping past it as her fingers gathered in my balls. They massaged them gently and then were still. 

We didn't do anything. If I had thought about all we had done the night before, I would have wanted to, but I made a point of thinking about other things: nothing to do with nude resorts, naked women, especially Anna or Marge, and not about naked men - Sans. Whatever she was thinking about, she just held my balls loosely in her hand. How can a woman think about something else, when she's doing that? Her fingers moved a little, and she remarked: 

"It's just so nice to be able to hold you like this; can only do it with you and him and my father."

"Very nice. With young men, they can't just let you?"

"Um-hmm, not with Ron and Willy last year. Oh, there haven't been any others since then, but not before. Hm-hmm! Of course, I didn't mind. With the first couple, I was too shy to touch them. Oh, after we had a couple of times - I guess I was only shy with the first one - then I did, of course; want to hold his cock. Yeah, after that, of course, I touched them, wanted to let him know that I didn't mind if he wanted to do something."

"Hm-hmm! Of course, he did."

"Um-hmm, but then afterwards, doing this," - her fingers moved again - "he thought I wanted to again."

"Didn't you?"

"It was never as good as last night, so yes, of course, but I really just wanted to hold them, these."

Her fingers massaged my balls gently. She snorted and added: 

"Well, when I started, I did, but then I certainly didn't mind, when, ... that he assumed I wanted to."

"Hm-hmm! Interesting. I missed out on that."

Her fingers seemed to think I was inviting them to continue. Did she also feel my cock stir? I snorted and murmured: 

"Nice, but if you just want to hold them ... Otherwise, I might begin to feel like a young man."

"Oh, that would be nice, I mean, just that you liked to feel younger."

"Of course, who wouldn't, with you, but if you only just want to hold them ...?"

"I could change my mind."

I didn't reply immediately. She added: 

"It's too early for breakfast."

If she hadn't felt that my cock had stirred before, when her thumb slid up and touched it, she must have felt that it was fuller, and felt that it stirred again.

"Nice young man," she murmured, her thumb moving the skin on it.

"Wish I were," I mumbled.

"Young enough."

"Hmmm, if you think so."

Her fingers slid up under my stiffening cock, thumb and fingers sliding the skin near the base of my cock. In a serious tone, she murmured: 

"I do. You know what I like to do."

"And what I like to do."

"Um-hmm." 

She began to turn around on the bed. I rolled over towards her, and our thighs drew up under the other's head. My cock was in her mouth before mine could find her pussy. But then! 

We both knew what and how much we liked to do it. Oh yes! I felt like a young man, one enjoying himself better than I ever had when I had been one. When she started to swallow my cock again, I forgot about licking her pussy. When my plum was back - out - where she could lick and suck it, her hips twitched, reminding me that she also wanted her orgasm. Both of us wanted to feel and taste each other spurt, and did! 

All it takes to feel much younger is to have one's cock in the mouth or pussy of an eager young woman!

Shower, going together in the shower, joking about her never getting both nipples sucked, while I was fondling them with soapy hands. She didn't need to wash my cock and balls that well, but I sure enjoyed that she did, just hoping that she wasn't disappointed that my cock didn't respond. I shaved, remarking that she must have. She nodded with a grin, remarking: 

"Maybe should have the night before, but he enjoyed watching me - me too - snickering as he saw how I did it. Hm-hmm! Almost wanted to lick it again: 'just to see that you didn't miss anywhere'."

"You didn't!" I replied, returning her grin.

We laughed, drying ourselves. Still chuckling, we went to breakfast, holding hands until we neared the restaurant.

Marge and Sans joined us, all of us smirking. Marge said: 

"We thought we would be here earlier," earning a nod and smile from Sans.

"We did too," I replied. Anna nodded with a grin and added:

"But then we were talking about how I like to hold you both, ..."

Sans shushed her softly, glancing around at the other people and murmuring: 

"Later."

Anna nodded with a smirk, and we went to the breakfast buffet, finding a table where we could talk without being overheard. Before Anna could continue, Marge said: 

"I think we can imagine."

"Probably," Anna agreed, adding softly: "that I couldn't do that with younger men, and then, well, he said that he might feel like one if I didn't stop."

"I did," I interjected with a grin.

We all nodded with restrained smirks. Sans gave her a smile and remarked: 

"Like I forgot to speak English."

Anna nodded, returning his smile and giving me a glance. I snorted and asked: 

"How could you? Oh, of course, like you told us on the way to Avignon."

"Hmm? I guess I'll notice that my daughter has had two children after this.

We all nodded and began to eat, changing the subject to how we wanted to spend the morning of our last day together, agreeing that we should stay with the flash mob group, those from Literotica and try to say goodbye to the French, German and English resort guests who had participated.

That was a nice multi-lingual exercise. We quickly found the Americans, most of them together and looking like they had enjoyed themselves, and looking like they knew about how we had. We didn't find a few, but between us, we remembered who they were, snickering as we agreed that they were probably not so interested in saying goodbye - maybe to each other. Sans sought out the French people he could recall, and Anna and Marge found the Germans. It wasn't so difficult, since people generally stayed together and in the same areas.

With all the sharing of impressions - not just about the flash mob - we spent a nice final day, including lunch with Ron and Willy and their girlfriends in a corner of the restaurant, where we could share some impressions that we couldn't with the others.

Late in the afternoon, Sans said that he should check the most recent emails on his website, and excused himself. We three agreed to just have a glass of wine till dinnertime, sitting together somewhere on three chairs. When Marge noticed that my eyes had followed a young girl, she smirked, but then frowned, trying to look very upset, and said: 

"Stop that! Just because she's blond."

I had only seen her in passing, then obviously from behind - really blond? Nice ass. 

"Not really," Anna replied, who had seen her approaching.

"But you were still looking."

"Not the first one. Haven't you? Not just at girls?"

Marge nodded with a grin, chuckling, admitting: 

"Of course, but just when you weren't around."

"I doubt it, and not just girls; most of the men look better than me."

"But I - we - " she glanced over at Anna, who nodded with a grin. 

Marge gave a quick glance to each side and said: 

"Can't say it here."

Anna nodded again with another grin. I grinned, also nodding, and said: 

"I shouldn't have; try not to, ... if you don't."

After that, we all looked at whoever passed, smiling at the ones who approached us, and usually getting their smiles in response. That continued until Sans founded us, the perfect gentleman. It was time for dinner and we three stood up. He looked at them and remarked: 

"I never told you that you both are very attractive."

They smiled. Marge replied: 

"You make us feel like we are."

"You are!" I rejoined, wanting to show my agreement and excuse my girl watching.

Anna feigned embarrassment and held her hands in front of her breasts and pussy. That only made her nudity seem more attractive. Sans probably also smiled, but my eyes weren't going leave the view of Anna. He remarked: 

"The Capitoline Venus, just much better as a live model."

Anna then looked like she was really embarrassed, just too tanned to show a blush, but her hands moved closer, hiding her breast and pussy, but her forearm didn't hide that her other nipple had popped out. Marge also looked at her, nodding with a smile, and agreed: 

"Or any other Venus."

Sans and I nodded. I liked that Marge had agreed with us, but felt that it was a little unfair that Anna had inspired his and her comments. If she hadn't done that, she would have been a just as attractive Venus - almost.

Sans again rescued the situation, remarking: 

"Well, we certainly aren't any Hercules or Adonises."

Marge snorted, nodding, and replied: 

"It's not the muscles ... or waistlines that count."

Did Sans also draw in his stomach? Anna and Marge smirked. Anna had lowered her hands, again just looking like the young twenty-year-old we had seen so often. That didn't keep me from appreciating that I could see the start of the slit of her pussy - something classical sculptors never showed. Better, the live model, as Sans had said.

We went to dinner, joining all the others from our group. Someone had had tables pushed together so that we could all sit together. We were probably too loud, especially after the third or fourth man called for a round of wine. 

When I wanted to, both Marge and Anna kept me from doing so. Were they thinking about how our evening would end and worried that Sans and I couldn't? Maybe justified consideration, what did they want to do? What would we do for our final evening together?

Someone else ordered another round. When we all left the restaurant, not just Sans and I fondled the nearest woman's bottom, and those behind us chuckled, and we heard light slaps. We weren't the only ones looking forward to our final night at the nude resort.

Back in our room, we all smirked at each other - after we had all been to the bathroom - not bothering to wash. It was so obvious that we were all going to do something together, and/or we were all so high that we had no compunctions about saying whatever was on our mind. Anna first - maybe feeling the wine more than the rest of us: 

"One of you has to like the taste of my muschi.

"Mine too!" Marge rejoined. 

I could have expected her agreement, but didn't expect that she would have spoken so loud - the wine?




Bastille Day Ch. 13



Then you have to suck our cocks," Sans replied - also a little too loud. 

We all chuckled. Who had made up the bed? One of us flung back the covers, and we were all quickly on it, Marge and Anna lying back to back, waiting for us to join them. I hadn't considered whose pussy I preferred to lick - it didn't matter. Which one's was it? Too drunk to remember? And they were both so good. 

Oh, it was Marge's; now I remember, so Anna must have been sucking my cock - not like she had that time. Yes, she was; after it was beginning to feel almost too good, it slipped out of a mouth, and I heard her demand: 

"Fuck us! I want to lick Marge."

In vino veritas! And no objections! As they rolled together, Sans and I scrambled backwards around them, and our cocks found their ways in the pussy that we had been licking. Well, his also must have; Anna groaned.

Thanks, Anna, for an even better suggestion! Enjoy licking Marge's tasty, wet pussy! It sounded like she was, and that Marge was enjoying hers. Whose fingers were trying to find my asshole" Didn't matter, Anna's? 

Nature couldn't have intended that two couples have sex like this; it only took one couple to make a baby, but it sure was good. So fucking good! All women must enjoy licking a pussy, having their pussy licked by another woman, especially when there was also a cock in it! A twitching cock, like mine was. And could there be anything better that feeling a pussy squeezing my cock in response to someone arousing it like Anna was doing on Marge's clitoris? 

I forgot my questions, had to; it was feeling so arousing for my cock in Marge's pussy, too arousing, when her hips began to twitch. Fuck! I did.

If my cock didn't spurt as much in her pussy, at least, it felt like it had. I hoped that she thought so. And when Sans grunted, his hips thrusting, I hoped that it felt the same for him and Anna.

Moaning sighs. After a few, we rolled apart, and four hands fondled breasts. Then Sans snorted and murmured: 

"Can't tell Daphne about this.?"

"Don't have anyone I can't tell," I replied.

"We do," Marge replied, adding: "but maybe we shouldn't."

"Better not," Anna agreed.

We chuckled again and continued fondling breasts, enjoying taking them from another hand, then settling on just one to hold: four hands, four breasts, ideal. We were silent of a minute or two, then Anna said: 

"Me again," and sat up.

We chuckled and followed her to the bathroom. Marge waited for her to use the toilet, while Sans and I hung our cocks and balls over the edge of the washbasin. We all washed and went back to bed. As we were getting comfortable, Sans reminded us that we all had to get up early to start our trips home. 

We did, reluctantly when the first of us stirred, early enough that Sans didn't mind leaving our room to return to his for a shower and to pack. For once, the three of took individual showers. Packing after a vacation at a nudist resort was quick, exchanging comments about the clothes we hadn't used. We got dressed, with the usual chuckles.

We met him again at breakfast, and the others, of course. Some of their exuberant remarks didn't seem in tune with our mood. Since Sans and Anna could leave immediately, Marge and I had an excuse to leave the group before we all had to get to the airport. Sans asked me to help him with his two cases of wine bottles, most of them empty now. We loaded them in his car, while Anna got her suitcase. He found two unopened bottles and gave them to Marge and me with a smile, remarking: 

"Something to remember me by."

We took them, thanking him and both saying that we couldn't forget him. Marge looked at the name of the wine estate on the bottle and asked: 

"If I may ask, what is your first name?"

He smiled with a nod and replied: 

"You should know: Edmund, Edmund Thierry Maria. Need a saint's name for christening. Apparently the first two aren't."

"Thank you for a wonderful time, Edmund."

"And thank you, Marge, and you too, Thomas!" 

He smiled at me and extended his hand. 

"And you too!" I replied, and we clasped hands with slightly smirking smiles. 

Anna joined us, and he put her suitcase in the trunk of his car. We stood in silence for a moment. Than Anna approached me and Marge and said: 

"Thank you both for wonderful vacation! Thank you so much!" 

She embraced me - we embraced - and shared a kiss that was more appropriate in bed. As she turned to Marge, she glanced around, seeing that no one could see us. When they embraced, they shared an equally intimate kiss. Then Marge and Sans - now Edmund - embraced with just as good a kiss. When he turned to me, extending his hand again, I grasped it, saying: 

"But not me too." 

We didn't kiss, but he grasped my shoulder, and we also embraced. 

Then they were off. Marge and I looked at each other, both shrugging. She smiled and said: 

"But with me. Maybe we can at the airport, but just in case."

Kind of funny, embracing and kissing her with all our clothes on, especially when we both made it as arousing as we could with our tongues, long enough for her to feel that I was, then rubbing her hips against me. If anyone had seen us, they could have wondered why we were kissing like that there, instead of in our room; or wondered if we were for the first time, after the others had left; or whatever else someone could wonder about a couple kissing like that in the parking lot in the morning.

We separated, chuckling, she again, as I helped my cock move around. No, we didn't love each other, but we sure enjoyed each other's company. She grinned and said: 

"At the airport too."

"But not like that, rubbing against me."

"Hm-hmm! This is France; people will just smile and think we're doing it right."

At de Gaulle Airport, before going to our different flights, we did, maybe even better. She had been right, people just smiled. I did not adjust my cock in my pants. If anyone wanted to see that it was aroused, they would have anyway, and this was France.

The day after we were home, we received an email from Anna: 

Dear both of you!

Thank you again so much for inviting me to share your vacation. Thank you for having me. That is what I first wrote, then put the other sentence in front. But that is what I really mean.

We had a fine trip back to Paris. Edmund, he told me that he had told you his name, even asked me to share the driving. Wow! His big car. He had to warn me to keep to the speed limit. In Germany, there isn't one on the freeways. 

We did not have a "picnic", but joked about it. Not enough time, more than 600 km to Paris, just stopped for a couple of snacks and to change drivers.

Wow! Again. He lives in big flat in a turn of the century building somewhere near the Arc de Triomphe, to the left after driving up the Champs Elysées. He drove in Paris. What a flat! Like rooms in a castle in Germany. 

I wasn't going to tell you about what we did. Of course, WE DID. But everything else. When he showed me to his bedroom, and I immediately started to unbutton, he did too, saying that a shower after the long drive would be good. The shower was too, but we didn't. I assumed that we would stay that way. He snorted, saying that it was going to be funny. It was; naked in formal rooms like that. High ceilings and antique furniture, like in a movie with Catherine Deneuve. When I said that, he agreed, telling that his family had lived there since the building was built.

Anyway. We went in the kitchen, large and very modern. He is a good cock too. "Too"? You can imagine ... ;-) He made a delicious omelette with ham and cheese and spices, and a bottle of his wine. Mmmm! We then did, of course. 

I told him that he had stirred me as well as he had the omelette, in case you didn't understand the "too," but of course you did. When he replied that I had stirred him too, looking in my eyes, I suddenly recognized the other meaning. Yes, I was stirred like that too, but you both probably already surmised that. (Marge: had to look up the English for "vermuten".) I hope so. 

He said that he had to spend all day Sunday catching up on emails and stuff from his work, so we didn't in the morning, but wished we could have, and he wished that he could have had time to show me Paris - "and a lot more," he added as he drove me to Gare de l'Est, the station for trains to Germany. I didn't want him to, but he insisted on buying my ticket. 

And now I am back in my university room. But this coming weekend. Don't know how much I can tell my father. Oooh, my period. Oh, he won't be disappointed, but I will be, but only a little.

Thank you both again! 

Love, Anna

That was the end of our trip, except for Marge's and my emails to Anna and her reply. A couple of days later she replied that she had remembered to send Sans her "He wanted to see more of me," [title of a posted story] about sleeping with her father for the first time, and that he had replied that he had enjoyed it with fond memories of her.

What could be a sequel to all that? It's fun to consider. I have my ideas, but if anyone has suggestions, maybe I'll be inspired to include them. 



Bastille Day Ch. 2



… a ripple of awe flows away from her in an outward wave. Seconds later, reciprocating waves resound off of her as the awe turns to indignation, indignation to spite. The crowd turns all attention to the source of this cruel interruption. They spit explicatives at her, "Pagan!"… "Whore!" Rough hands grab at her, everyone about her reaching out, working as one to silence her heresy. Realizing her gaffe, she tries to run, to flee their wrath. In one brief moment, she has managed to steal their animal frenzy… broken their blood high, today’s pleasure lost. She is caught and roughhoused back. 

Women scratching her flesh, men squeezing her hard. A hand crashes into the side of her face and she stumbles… falls. As a mass of feet and circle about her body, her soul dives inward: a fragile bird retreating to the safety within. Darkness overcomes her…

* * * * *

Sore eyes flutter… she is aware of cool silk lying over her, under her. A soft embroidered pillow cradles her head. She stirs slightly, turning onto her back, and immediately cries out as a searing pain stabs through her arm. Her memories flood back at once… and she begins to cry.

A deep, soft voice enters her, "It hurts?" "Of course it hurts" he scolds himself as fingers move along her neck. 

She tries to pull away, wincing as lightening erupts in her head.

"No girl. Stay still now. I only want to help you." His voice flows into her like cool water. She slowly turns her head in his direction, eyes seeking him out. 

His fingers arrest her movement as they close over the fleshy muscle where her shoulder and arm meet, fingers suddenly applying firm pressure along the joint. Another hand grasps her elbow and, without warning, rips it outward. She screams out as her shoulder flares, her arm being torn from her. Somewhere within her mind, the tiny bird screams with her and cowers within its shrinking sanctuary.

She floats between worlds… aware of a soft "cooing". Cold water flows over her shoulder, the pain a memory. The refreshing coolness washes over her chest along her ribs. Her skin rippling with gooseflesh as the welcome rush flows across her hips, over her thighs and rivulets between her legs, down to her sex. 

Her eyes open much slower this time. She drinks in the night air as she listens to his soft voice again. Aware now that her body is uncovered, unclothed. She shivers as his hand runs the soft sponge along her calves, icy cold water dripping behind her knee.

"Ah, you will live after all" he chuckles as he gently places her leg down. Moving to her side, he drops his hand into a bucket, squeezes the sponge once, then strokes it up her stomach…. He leans closer as the sponge squishes along between her breasts… over her chest. Once there, moving to stroke at her hot neck and throat. "Feeling a bit better my love?". He lifts the sponge over her as long fingers gently milk cold droplets into her mouth. She opens her lips, welcomes the gift.

"Who are you?". A light flares beside her. Hands cupping flame as a candle is lit. She is not shocked when his face turns to her. His eyes alighting upon her. "You".. then "thank you".

"No. thank you. Another today heard your words. The king spared us all. Though we will never be freed." He shrugs as his hands guide the sponge over her shoulder again. The pain is much less.

"I’m sorry I had to hurt you earlier," his words melt into her, "but without it, your shoulder would never have healed."

"Why am I here. Why are you here?"

"Shhh… rest now", he whispers. "I asked the king to allow me to thank you for your bravery. He complied graciously. I have two days to treat your bruises".

She glances about the room, the candlelight dancing off teak and silver. Painted bodies dancing on a tapestry. Their forms moving together in the candlelight. For the first time today, she closes her eyes from comfort as he "coos" lightly. Her comfort kindling pleasure as cool, light fingers trail icy liquid along the curve of her breast. Circling about taut nipples...



Bastille Day Ch. 3



… Her thoughts flutter as warm slender fingers drift about her chest and abdomen. Her eyes closing as her body begins to respond to his tender ministrations of her flesh. "Please… I can't do this… do not know you…"

"You know me Monica. Your body and soul know me. You and I were destined to meet here… now." His breath touches her side. Lips brushing her skin as fingers move expertly down the flare of her hips. She senses his hard, hot torso against her arm as his body turns to massage her legs.

"Let me do this for you," his words accented by thoughtful thumbs as they move between her thighs, light friction as they pull her sensitive flesh up and away from her core. "It will help you heal…." His lips touching her body fully… the point of his tongue gliding upward along her rib, tracing it to the underside of a light, tingling breast.

Despite her bruises, her body flushes with a familiar ache. She sighs as lips brush her nipple, purse over the hard teat. He sucks lightly; cool air rushing over it, sending sparks through her body. "Oh God," she inhales as his mouth leaves her fiery breast… tongue licking along her tight tummy. Blood rushes to her chest and flows into her sex, her lips swelling suddenly, pouting against each other as his fingers move inside her knees, gently spreading her legs, lifting one slightly, caressing her calve.

"Yes Monica, I can feel it growing inside you; can smell your desire." His hands move upward between parted thighs, fingers plying goose-bumped skin as they travel toward her now glistening sex. She glances downward at his lips poised inches above her pulsing pussy, head slowly lowering until she can feel the tip of his nose slip along her sensitive lips. 

Deep inside her, a beautiful bird coos and unfolds gossamer wings. A silky warm tongue descends onto her hooded love. Her legs flex, hips curling as she rises off the sheets, pressing her hard clit onto his hot, wet tongue. He smiles as he watches her pink folds opening for his touch, tiny droplets of her cream coating her inner flesh…

"Gregg, please," she whispers… "please stop. I can't…" her speech trailing off to a whimper. All thought shatters as his tongue flattens against her, lapping along her inner flesh, his hands reaching under her uplifted derriere… fingers splaying out to squeeze her rounded bottom. He lifts her as his sweet mouth opens fully over her tenderness. 

His bottom lip tweaks over her rock hard clit and she gasps, a wave of pleasure coursing through her. As his soft, hard tongue delicately delves into her tight need, the iridescent creature within her bristles with pure energy, chattering sweetly as it shimmers and surges to flight. Her soul soars as he laps and strokes her pleasure. Her chest swells, her hips heaving, her sex shuddering, scrunching tightly to his generous mouth as her honey flows freely over his swirling tongue. His lips flex and close hard on her, his tongue plunging deep into her as a brilliant fire explodes within; its flame consumes her. She moans long as her stomach tightens, her pussy clenches and dilates around his thick tongue. She is aware of hot liquid coating her thighs as she inhales deeply, sinking deep into the satin sheets, her legs stretching out luxuriously. She smiles warmly as he kisses her inner thigh, sucking softly at her. 

As she revels in the delicious sensation of her dénouement, her body heavy with exhaustion, her soul light as air, his kisses rain over her neck, breasts and belly. Her fingers move through his hair, urging his head to rest against her, his cheek wet with her warm juices. Her last thought is of his steady breathing against her breast, as, satiated, she drifts away.



Bastille Day Ch. 4



She wakes to the silence of pre-dawn darkness… the only sound, the faint clicking of crickets. Rolling to her side, she takes in the aura of moonlight streaming through white drapes. She stretches, her body soft under silky satin sheets. 

Although she knows she has slept for scant hours, energy and life courses through her. Sitting up, she cranes her neck and tentatively tests her shoulder. Seconds later she is quickly rotating her arm, amazed as she realizes that his touch, his intention was indeed healing… and very strong healing.

She stands, strolling to the window; bracing her hands on the stonework of the low sill; reveling in the tight rippling of muscles as they tense, bracing her nakedness in the pale glow of a full moon. He has made her whole, strong and sure. She breathes deeply, pondering this unselfish man, his gift, his eyes, fingers, tongue. She flexes, aware of every fiber of her body. Slender fingers stray over her supple curves. 

Sucking cool, light air into her lungs, she turns her attention back into the darkness. Her skin tingles with sudden tension as she moves. Smiling down at her firm breasts, delighting in their youthful bounce as she approaches the high-backed sofa. Peering down at his prone form, kneeling beside him, studying him in his sleep. She is touched by the drawn look reflected in his face. He looks as if his own life force was drained by his efforts to heal her. Obviously he has given much to her. 

Her mind and body bristle with sexuality; a great need welling within her. Her eyes drinking in every inch of his body as she lifts away the bedding. As she leans over his torso, her sex swells, heat coursing through her folds. Her tongue slides over a hard stomach, slipping lower to his thigh. Moving to roll the soft head of his resting cock, lightly licking the the soft, velvety underside as her fingers snake about him, tenderly stroking the soft flesh. Her mouth opens over the soft head and she suckles him; fingers manipulate and tease at his lovely meat. He stirs.

She glances upward, anticipating his grey-green eyes upon her. His stirring ceases but his beautiful cock pulses and swells between her fingers as she fondles him. The head swelling and pushing onto her tongue as his shaft throbs thicker, longer. She tightens her wet lips around the surging shaft, lowering her head as his cock probes deeper into her warm mouth. Her fingers move to her now aching sex, slipping easily within, instantly coated with her desire, slippery with her juices.

She tastes his growing excitement on her stroking tongue. No longer able to resist her own need, she continues to stroke this fine, hard cock, standing and straddling his hips. Her soaking sex inches over him as her fingers stroke his sex. Impatiently, she guides the swollen meat to her wet quim. As she lowers herself onto him, the head stretching her deliciously, her hand moves to his stomach, fingers wide over his hard muscle. He stirs again.

Again she pauses, her pussy on fire, anticipating the body glow after a thorough, deep fucking. His eyes open, gazing about before focusing on hers. He moans, raising his hands as if to stroke her. 

"No, you mustn't", he implores, still groggy with sleep. Her heart swells, believing he is maintaining his noble nature. She is aware of his physical weakness, considering his request. At this point, however, she is more aware of her own aching need. A selfish need to feel that hard cock thrusting into her depths. She shudders around his cock. and as she shakingly lowers herself onto the thick meat, a glorious orgasm sweeps through her.

Her mouth open, panting already, she begins to move upon him. All thoughts of love and tenderness dissipate as she is overcome with the need to fuck this hard, thick cock. Her thigh muscles bunch, her hungry cunt clasping onto his meat as she rolls over him. Fingers digging into his hard stomach and chest as she rides his hot meat, twisting and writhing on him; her rock hard clit rubbing along his velvety shaft. She basks in her wantonness, her body becoming stronger, harder as she bucks against him.

"Fuck my tight pussy" she groans. Her pussy spasms as she feels his cock twitch and pulse. "Yes Gregg", bouncing on him, "Fill me with your hot cum".

"Oh fuck", he groans, hands grasping her hips. His hips thrust upward as he slams her slick cunt down, impaling her entirely on his meat. "Oh Monica"! His cock throbs and swells… the head growing within her, his hips bucking as he pistons within her.

"Mmmmmmm, cumming all over your sweet cock", she twists upon him, sparks shooting through her as she rocks in hard, sweet orgasm. His cock twitching repeatedly as he holds her upon him; his hot seed spurting deep within her…

Minutes later her eyes open, her breathing slows. As his cock softens within her, their combined juices dripping from her satiated sex, she gazes down at him. Already, he is sleeping deeply….. 

She lies upon him, her body stretching along his, lips caressing his chest and shoulder. Within moments, she too succumbs to rest.