The Cove

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In the previous chapters…

Gerry's heterosexual inclinations and his inhibitions make it hard for him having sex with Rowan, despite the sheer love he feels for him. However, a part of him longs for men's love, and at the Cove he cautiously explores his sexuality, sucking Alex' cock and then making sweet love to Brennan.
Kale goes to Hawaii to pay a visit to his dying father and brings back with him his young cousin Laniakea, who struggles to fully explore his sexual inclinations and find his place within the Cove. With Kale's help, Laniakea learns how liberating is voicing (or even screaming) his pleasure and reveals to have been raped by two homophobic guys, back home.
Beau understands that he's not the wonderful and generous man he's always believed, and tries his best to overcome his limits.
The sudden appearance of Gerry's female lover causes a fuss in the Cove and leads to a weird three-way between Kale, Gladys and Gerry. Rowan feels inadequate for Gerry, and looks for reassurance into Barry's arms, but this causes a fight between Gerry and Barry, who later on find a common ground (rough sex!) to settle their quarrel.
Barry is arrested and put in jail, where he ties a strong bond with Wade, a barely legal straight boy. At his trial, Barry makes the hot Judge Ricardo Garcia fall for him.
Jorell reveals to Kale that his father walked out on him when he was seventeen and never heard from him since. Immediately, the Cove starts searching for Jorell's father, and the traces lead to the infamous San Quentin Prison. There, Jorell finds out how unexpectedly caring and understanding was his father, who unfortunately died in prison.
LaShawn meets Joshua, the supposedly straight jet pilot, and gently brings the uptight and repressed guy into the frightening and delightful world of man-love; and though the brave pilot then dies in a plane crash, LaShawn knows for sure that he died in peace with himself.
Laniakea is adamant in being a strictly 'top' guy, but when he talks about that with Barry, the sexy worker widens... Laniakea's perspectives.
After pondering it a lot, Beau proposes to Kale: the news about the surprising marriage makes happy everyone... but Barry, who gets unexpectedly tense and thoughtful. After few days, the two lovebirds get married at Maison de la Motte, with a romantic, and somewhat hilarious ceremony, and then fly on honeymoon to France.
While they're away, at the Cove things go downhill, when Barry reacts badly and the men gang up against him.

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Synopsys

While on honeymoon in France, Beau and Kale will live a lot of hot, interesting, funny and dramatic adventures, all in a couple days!

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Additional downloads (PDF)

~ Cast of Characters: the “Who’s Who” of the Cove!
~ Floor Plan of the Cove
~ Book 01: Chapters 01-10 (PDF with bookmarks)
~ Book 02: Chapters 11-20 (PDF with bookmarks)
~ Book 03: Chapters 21-30 (PDF with bookmarks)
~ Book 04: Chapters 31-33 (PDF with bookmarks)

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≈ CHAPTER 33 – FRENCH CONNECTION ≈

 

~ The Viscountess of Saint-Julien ~

Totally unaware of what was going on at the Cove, Beau and Kale woke up in their ample bedroom at Palais Harcourt; the entire room was flooded with the warm sunlight of the French Riviera. Kale was still feeling sleepy, due to the jet lag, but Beau seemed excited: “Come, let’s freshen up and let’s go have breakfast! We’re going on a trip today!”

“A trip? To where?” – Kale blurred, still half asleep.

“It’s a surprise! Actually, it’s a place I myself have never been to, and probably it’s nothing particular, but I want to visit it nevertheless…”

“How tempting…” – Kale replied, ironically – “A trip at the crack of dawn…”

“It’s ten o’clock!”

“…at the crack of dawn” – Kale insisted – “to a boring place! OK, here I am! In good times and bad, right?”

“Stop being a drama queen and get ready!” – Beau laughed, pulling Kale out of the bed – “And take a change of clothes, because we’ll spend the night there.”

After a pleasant breakfast with the ever-lively Aunt Yvette, they took the car and started their trip through the beautiful Provence. The ride was very pleasant, but after a couple hours Kale started thinking that all those olive trees and vineyards and lavender fields were quite monotonous. Beau noticed how restless Kale was and said: “We’re almost there”.

“That small village on top of that solitary hill?” – Kale said, pointing to a seemingly ancient village in front of them – “How is it called?”

“That is the surprise!” – Beau mused, taking a sharp turn and starting to climb a steep narrow road leading up to the village – “It won’t take long… There should be a sign somewhere… There! Look!”

Kale looked at the rusty sign and gasped: “Saint-Julien? That Saint-Julien? The ‘county’ of which you are Viscount?”

“Well, it used to be a huge and thriving county in the old times. All it remains of that is the small village we’re about to visit. I confess I didn’t expect it to be this small and solitary. But anyway, we all know well that my title is just honorific…”

“I think it’s a charming old village” – Kale said, sensing Beau’s disappointment – “But wait, we’re not going to attend a parade or something, are we?”

“No one even knows me here, don’t worry” – Beau replied, stopping the car in front of an ancient house with an old sign reading ‘Auberge du Montagnier’ – “This is the only hotel in the village, I hope they have at least running water…”

“Now, who’s the drama queen?” – Kale laughed – “Don’t worry, if we have to wash with a bucket and a basin I’ll help you! Ha ha!”

They entered the old inn and the concierge, who looked to be more than a hundred years old, addressed them partly in French and partly in English, and both Beau and Kale had no problem understanding him.

“Whose name is the reservation, monsieur?” – the old man asked, pretending that it wasn’t the only reservation in the whole month. Or probably the whole year.

“I only left my first name, Beauregard.”

“Yes, here it is. May I have your full name, for the records?”

“Beauregard Rice-Duncan de la Motte”

The old concierge dropped the pen and stared at Beau: “Are you somehow related to Sir Finley Rice-Duncan, married to Madame Alienor Harcourt de la Motte?”

“My late parents, yes. They passed away long ago. Did you know them?”

“Mon Dieu! Of course I know the Viscount and the Viscountess of Saint-Julien! I had the honour to host them here at the Auberge once, but it was forty-three years ago, and then, unfortunately, I never heard from them anymore. But wait! You said they passed away, and you are their son… so…”

He came out of the desk and much to Beau’s embarrassment he bent a knee in front of him: “Monsieur le Vicomte…”

“What are you doing… No, no, my good man, stand up… This is totally unnecessary…” – Beau hastened to say, helping the old man on his feet – “That’s just an honorific title, I don’t really have any power over Saint-Julien…”

“It’s more than that, Monsieur, though the youngsters here don’t know any more how the first Vicomte helped us, gaining our unperishable gratitude” – the old man said – “I hope that the late Vicomte, your father, taught you our history, the traditions, the wedding formula…”

“Tell me about it…” – Kale murmured, and he realized too late that he’d spoken aloud.

The old concierge shot a questioning glance at Kale, and Beau said: “Let me introduce you to Kale Ali’ikai Kahananui, my… err… my husband.”

Kale froze, as Beau’s earlier statement that ‘no one knew him there’ was quickly turning into a disaster. «If he calls me ‘Viscountess’ I scream!» – he thought, holding his breath.

“This is such a joyful day!” – the old man exclaimed happily, bowing to Kale – “We are honoured to have both the Viscount and the… uhm… Viscount Consort! Messieurs, command me in all things!”

Kale and Beau exchanged a glance, recognizing the sexual innuendo that LaCour often used with them, but the contrast between the handsome butler and the decrepit concierge was totally hilarious. And yet, they put a great effort in not laughing, as it would’ve been extremely disrespectful to the old man.

 

~ Gaston ~

“Let me call for the bellboy to take care of your luggage” – the concierge said, ringing a bell on the counter, and Beau smiled appreciating the elegant manners of the man, who was apparently unaware of running a ramshackle inn in the middle of nowhere, and not the Hôtel de Crillon in Paris. Sure enough – Beau thought – judging from the concierge, the ‘bellboy’ was in his late seventies…

But the man who came in wasn’t and old geezer, not at all! He was a tall, sturdy blond man in his early forties, with two shining blue eyes and a charming smile. Beau and Kale almost gasped when they looked at his shirt and waistcoat, so filled with muscles that they could seemingly explode any moment, and the tight white pants – more pantyhose than pants, actually – that couldn’t conceal an oversize bulge.

He looked like he didn’t expect his services to be required anytime soon, because he’d clearly put on his uniform in a hurry, and the white shirt wasn’t even buttoned up to the collar, giving an enticing glimpse of his wide chest.

“Gaston!” – the concierge exclaimed – “Don’t let the Vicomte de Saint-Julien and his Consort wait! Vite! Vite! Take their luggage and show them the Imperial Suite!”

Gaston stifled a patient smile, and didn’t seem overly excited of having the Viscount in person visiting the Auberge… “This way”, he said with a deep, kind voice, taking the ‘luggage’, that actually consisted in just a small half-empty travel bag.  Beau and Kale followed Gaston up the narrow staircase, and neither of them could take his eyes off of the man’s muscular buttocks swaying rhythmically inside the tight pants. By the time they got to the room, both the guests were breathing hard… and not for the steep ascent.

The ‘Imperial Suite’ looked as ancient as the entire Auberge, but it was sparkling clean and charmingly furnished. And when Kale tested the bed, he realized it was unexpectedly comfortable.

“So…” – Gaston said, putting Beau’s bag down – “Are you really the Vicomte? The elderlies… which means the entire population of this village… every now and then mention the late Viscount, I guess he was your father, but I thought it was more an old myth than a real thing…”

“If you ask me” – Beau replied – “it’s more a myth than a real thing, but my father insisted to mention the title in his will, and being his only son…”

A shadow appeared on Gaston’s handsome face, as if an inner pain had suddenly resurfaced, but it lasted no more than few moments.

“Thank god you don’t look particularly impressed!” – Kale exclaimed, to lighten the tone of the conversation – “The concierge, downstairs, knelt in front of us! It was utterly embarrassing…”

“Uncle Serge lives in some dream of his…” – Gaston replied, with an affectionate smile that made him look even more fascinating – “He would be lost if I didn’t help him here. He thinks this is a luxury hotel with a huge staff, but the entire staff is in front of you: bellboy, maid, chef, handyman… This ‘Imperial Suite’ is the only room with en-suite bathroom, by the way. Now, I’d better go, you must be tired from your trip…”

“Not at all!” – Kale exclaimed on impulse – “I mean… We don’t know anyone here and maybe you could tell us about Saint-Julien. It’s a charming village, how is living here?”

Beau gestured toward a corner of the room with three armchairs placed around a rickety coffee table, and they all sat down. “The village may be charming, but it’s ancient… as much as the people living here” – Gaston replied – “I’m forty-three, and I’m by far the youngest inhabitant; the second-youngest man is in his mid-seventies. For them, living here is beautiful, no traffic, clean air and chatter around the tables of the bistrot sipping a Pastis. But for me it’s not easy. There is no way for me to… er… get some company, you know, and it’s hard. It’s really… hard…”

Gaston’s last word sounded more like a growl, and he enforced the already clear message slightly parting his legs, giving to Beau and Kale a clear idea of how… hard it was for him living there, all alone, unable to give vent to the testosterone flowing freely through his manly body.

There was a sudden silence, and Beau and Kale exchanged an uncertain glance, that didn’t go unnoticed by Gaston. “I’m very adaptable…” – he said in a low voice, and slowly stood up, keeping his obvious bulge at the guests’ eye level – “As a matter of fact, I’m the bartender, too; so, let me fix a drink for you, while you…uhm… consider the amenities of the Auberge du Montagnier…”

As soon as the door was closed, Beau said: “Come on, Kale, we can’t… We’re on our honeymoon…”

“I don’t buy it” – Kale replied with a knowing grin – “You are tempted as much as I am! He’s a walking wet dream!”

“But… But…” – Beau stuttered, trying hard to find a reason not to accept Gaston’s unexpected offer – “What would they say at the Cove if we break the rule number one, not to have an involvement with an outsider?”

The door opened, and Gaston came in bringing a tray with cool drinks and steaming cups of tea. Kale’s and Beau’s eyes were again riveted to the irresistible mass of pure masculinity walking toward them and Kale murmured: “As they say, ‘What happens in Saint-Julien stays in Saint-Julien’…”

“What would you like?” – Gaston asked, putting the tray on the table, flaunting his perfect ass in front of Beau’s eyes – “Something cool or something warm?”

“Something hot…” – Beau replied, with a randy glance, placing a hand on the man’s thigh.

 

~ French passion ~

Beau took the lead. He stood up and gently pushed Gaston toward the bed, and then down on the mattress. Kale joined in and started unbuttoning Gaston’s tight pants: he’d been mesmerized by the man’s big bulge since they first met, and now was eager to put his hands on that hefty piece of meat. His expectations were totally fulfilled: Gaston’s cock was a beauty, uncut and thick, with a long foreskin completely covering the glans.

Kale and Beau lay on the bed, at Gaston’s sides, propped themselves on an elbow and looked down at him, sneaking their hands under the shirt and the waistcoat, and sliding their palms down to caress the man’s half-hard manhood. Their moves were gentle, caring, not forceful in any way: Beau and Kale were accepting a gift, not taking what they wanted by force; Gaston looked intensely at both of them, feeling somewhat part of the married couple. For that night, at least.

Beau stripped to his underwear and Kale took off his shoes and shirts: he wanted to get naked, but as soon as he saw Gaston’s cock rise to full mast, he couldn’t stay put, and hungrily took it into his mouth. He knew how to pleasure a man, and soon Gaston was moaning loud, keeping his beefy hand on Kale’s head to guide him down on his stiff tool.

Gaston was an assertive man, and his instinct was to take the lead and smash Kale’s head down on his groin, but he restrained himself, out of respect for that exotic man, so kind and submissive. At some point he emerged from his pleasurable haze and looked up at Beau, who was still in his underwear and was looking at Kale with an almost hurt expression on his face.

True, they both had agreed to have fun with Gaston; but now that he was looking at his man, his husband, passionately munching on Gaston’s meat he felt weird, he felt… jealous!

«Raise your head, Kale…» – Beau thought, looking at Gaston’s cock rhythmically disappear into Kale’s eager mouth – «Look at me… Let me feel your love!»

Kale was too busy enjoying Gaston’s stiff pole and didn’t raise his head, nor he looked at Beau. But Gaston did, and suddenly knew that he was coming between those two handsome men.

“It’s… It’s just for fun, monsieur…” – he said in a low voice to Beau, stopping Kale with his hand – “but I realize it wasn’t a good idea. I’d better go. Pardonne-moi...”

Beau was hit by Gaston’s sensibility and felt ashamed, as in his entire life he’d never been jealous. For a long moment he looked into Gaston’s blue eyes and he felt like he was looking at himself in a mirror; his stupid doubts were suddenly dispelled by those sincere eyes and he smiled, took off his underwear and murmured: “No, stay. I… I don’t know what I was thinking…”

Kale flashed a randy grin and said to Gaston: “Le Vicomte, here, must be properly honoured and worshipped, don’t you think so?”

“I can’t ask for more…!” – Gaston replied joyfully; he stripped off of his waistcoat and shirt and then pulled Beau down to the center of the bed, while Kale got naked. Two tender mouths and four caring hands started roaming Beau’s skin, his face, his chest, his groin, his thighs; not a single inch of his body was spared, and Beau moaned in ecstasy. And his ecstasy grew up even more when Gaston lowered his head and gently took Beau’s throbbing member into his mouth.

“Aaahh… yes… c’est merveilleux…” – he moaned, enjoying Gaston’s warm mouth; the man wasn’t very expert, but he was doing his very best to give to Beau a five-star service. “Yes, go down on it, take it all…” – Kale incited Gaston, while licking and biting Beau’s sensitive nipples.

“My turn, now!” – Kale then said, with a fire burning in his eyes; he lay on the bed on his side and greedily took Beau’s cock from Gaston’s mouth and put it in his own. Gaston moved to Kale’s back and took handfuls of his tanned, firm buttocks; and when he heard the Hawaiian utter moans of pleasure, he parted his ass cheeks and plunged the quivering hole with his tool.

Kale didn’t stop working Beau’s cock, but his ragged breath and his chocked squeal of pleasure fueled Gaston, who started pounding Kale with greater vigor. It didn’t take long until Kale let go of Beau’s cock and rolled on his back, opening his legs wider, to invite the thick French stud to dig deeper into him.

 

~ Jealousy ~

At first, Beau stared with admiration the muscular body of the man swaying and pumping over Kale’s body, but once more, realizing how lost into his pleasure Kale looked, he felt something raising inside him.

He scrambled on the bed and stood on his knees, in front of Gaston’s face, and as soon as the man opened his mouth, Beau shoved his long cock all the way down his throat. He actually didn’t plan to be that forceful, but something into him made him grab Gaston’s head and face-fuck him with long, powerful thrusts.

Gaston chocked and gagged on the long meat, as he wasn’t experienced enough to take such a big rod all down his throat, and the more he spasmed, the harder he slammed his cock inside Kale, until Beau realized how mercilessly he was treating the kind Gaston and pulled out, with a contrite expression.

But Gaston smiled at him, and in his wet eyes there was no reproach. Beau was about to say something, but Gaston flashed a shy grin: “I’m sorry, monsieur, I’m not as good as your husband…”

Beau was moved again by Gaston’s sincerity and naivety; he was forty-three, a grown-up and confident man in every respect, but obviously in that god-forsaken village he didn’t have many chances to perfect his loving techniques.

«But one technique he knows damn well…» – Beau acknowledged, admiring the skillful way Gaston moved his hips, making his beautiful, enticing ass bounce up and down. It was a perfect ass, even better than Kale’s, Beau thought, a bit guilty; but it was the truth: Kale didn’t have Gaston’s massive build, nor such bulging buttocks.

As soon as Gaston felt Beau’s hot knob poking his nether portal he froze and turned around, shooting at Beau a pleading glance: “S'il vous plaît, monsieur, be… be gentle…”

Beau flashed a tender smile, guessing from his anxious and uncertain expression that the sturdy man, in all those years, had never opened his most guarded portal to anyone. “Fear not, mon ami” – he replied in a soothing tone – “You’re giving to my man a great pleasure, and that’s what I’m going to give you…”

At first, when Beau started pushing, Gaston stiffened, and he let out a chocked whine when Beau’s wide glans first broke into his virgin hole; but he soon relaxed, realizing that Beau was going very easy on him, stopping all the time to let his inexperienced ass accommodate the big intruder.

“Merci, monsieur… Nnngghh… Merci!” – Gaston exclaimed, when he realized that Beau was doing his best to give him the greatest pleasure, at the expenses of his own: he was barely moving inside the tight chute; Gaston may not have been expert in taking a cock, but sure enough he knew how to give it, and what Beau was giving him was more a caress than a fuck.

He felt thankful to Beau, but he knew well the urges of a man: “Take me, monsieur, fuck me, I don’t care if it hurts…” – Gaston said, looking back at Beau and nodding, to enforce his sincere offer. But Beau didn’t speed up the gentle back-and-forth motion of his hips: “No, Gaston, you’re not ready, yet, and I’ve already been unforgivably forceful with you. I owe you…”

He went on caressing Gaston’s insides for a while, trying to brush his cock over Gaston’s sensitive prostate over and over, making the man moan for the pleasure he was discovering for the first time. But at some point Gaston stopped him: “You’re wonderful, monsieur, but your husband is waiting for you. Your place is with him.”

With a smile, Beau rolled on his back and Kale could finally take his place astride his hips: “If you need a skilled ass, my man, you’ve found it!” – he said joyfully, and immediately impaled himself on Beau’s stiff rod. Gaston smiled wide when he saw Kale masterfully ride Beau’s cock, giving him the pleasure he couldn’t provide. The muscular French stood up on the bed on his feet and looked down on the two men making sweet love: “You are such a beautiful couple…” – he said with strained voice, stroking hard his cock – “I’ve never seen anything sexier than you two making love… Aaahh… You’re so beautiful… So beautiful… Oui! NNNNGGHH!!”

Kale, still riding hard Beau’s cock, turned to Gaston and with a swift move took Gaston’s spurting cock into his mouth, and started sucking it in earnest, making Gaston howl for the unexpected additional pleasure.

Beau grabbed Kale’s cock and started stroking it fast, as the enticing view of the muscular French stud, standing on the bed pouring a torrent of man cream down Kale’s throat, was quickly sending him through the roof.

With a muffled scream, Kale stiffened and his cock exploded in a massive ejaculation, and Beau followed suit, flooding Kale’s fundaments with his seed. For few long moments the room resonated of loud moans, gasps and grunts of exquisite pleasure, and then suddenly there was silence.

Kale rolled beside Beau, exhausted, and nested into his arms. Gaston was still standing on the bed, heaving, uncertain about what to do: they all had their fun, but now it was time to leave the married couple alone… though he dearly wished he could stay.

Beau looked up at him and flashed a tender smile, opening one arm: “Come here, mon ami, don’t go”. Gaston smiled like a kid on Christmas morning and joyfully joined the two men on the bed. While resting his head on Beau’s shoulder, Gaston kept thinking «Just five minutes more and I’ll go…», and he kept repeating it to himself until he fell asleep into Beau’s warm embrace.

 

~ Gossips and rumors ~

The next morning, Kale and Beau were woken up by Gaston, who came in bringing a huge tray with a sumptuous continental breakfast.

“Gaston, you shouldn’t have!” – Kale exclaimed – “I’m sure you have so many things to do…”

“Oh, don’t worry” – Gaston replied – “I’ve already cooked the breakfast for all the guests, checked out those who were leaving and cleaned their rooms”.

“You don’t fool me, I know we’re the only guests here…” – Kale giggled, and Gaston burst into a hearty laughter that was infectious, and soon they all were laughing merrily. Beau couldn’t tear his gaze off of Gaston, and said: “I feel very… comfortable with you, Gaston, I feel a sort of connection between us, and let me tell you this doesn’t happen frequently. I’m very glad we met, it was a pleasant surprise.”

Gaston’s smile faded a bit, giving way to an uncertain expression. “It was a surprise for me, too, seeing you here. Quite weird, if I may say. I didn’t expect to meet Sir Finley’s son.”

“According to your uncle” – Kale interjected, dubious – “Beau’s father only came here once, before you were born, you can’t know him…”

“In fact, I never met him. I was just curious” – Gaston replied, and shot at Beau a questioning look: “Say, was Sir Finley… No, it’s none of my business.”

“Come on, mon ami, after tonight you can ask me anything” – Beau said smiling – “Though I don’t like talking about my father. He wasn’t… well… what a father should be. He wasn’t caring, or kind. I’m sorry to say it, but I hated him.”

Gaston raised a hand: “You already answered my question. And still, you had a father; I never met mine, I don’t even know who he was, my mother brought this secret to her grave. Which of course put a fire in the villager’s minds and mouths, as you can easily guess. You can’t imagine the silly ‘truths’ I’ve heard all these years.”

“Often gossips and rumors are exaggeration of something actually true” – Kale said: being a counselor, he knew well the human dynamics – “If you don’t want to talk about this subject it’s fine, but what is the theory that goes the most?”

Gaston shook his head, embarrassed: “You don’t really want to know”.

“Now you are intriguing me” – Beau said – “But if it’s painful for you…”

“It may be painful for you, actually” – Gaston replied – “You see, most of the people here is convinced that my father was Sir Finley himself… Do you know how they call me here, when they want to mock me? Le Vicomte! Funny, uh?”

Gaston chuckled, but there was a great tension in his voice: “I know why people believe to this stupid rumor. There were some coincidences, but they were just that: coincidences. It was a coincidence that Sir Finley stayed here at the Auberge about nine months before I was born, and it was a coincidence that my mother, back then, worked here as a maid. People shouldn’t believe to tavern gossips…”

Kale sensed the tension in Gaston’s voice and asked, cautiously: “But… do you believe them?”

“NO!” – he shouted, his eyes getting wet, but soon controlled himself and added in a lower voice: “Let’s say I prefer not to know who was the man who knocked my mother up and then disappeared in the thin air, leaving her alone, with a baby to raise. I’m a good man, I don’t like to hate people, and if my father had a face, a name… I would hate him. Better not to lend an ear to gossips and rumors: they can hurt bad.”

Beau was shocked. He looked better at Gaston and was convinced to actually spot a physical resemblance with himself. «His eyes!» – he thought, remembering when, while making love with Gaston, they locked eyes and Beau felt like he was looking at himself in a mirror. And then the implications of his thought hit him: “We made love…” – he said almost in a whisper – “We made love, and we may be brothers…”

“Another reason not to know” – Gaston replied, dismissing the problem – “And anyway, for what it’s worth, it was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’d do it again even now”. And true to his word, his hefty cock visibly twitched inside his pants.

“Do you want to hear another coincidence?” – Beau added bitterly after a pause – “My grandfather’s name was Gaston. I’ve always wondered why I wasn’t named Gaston, being the firstborn and only son of my father. They told me that my mother insisted to choose my name herself…”

“Do you think that we don’t know the names of all the past Viscounts?” – Gaston giggled – “Uncle Serge, the concierge, is the President of the local Historic Association, he knows well that half of them was named Gaston, as they passed the name from grandfather to grandchild. This ‘coincidence’ had already been widely discussed by the historians, and even more by the village’s old maidens. Listen to me, Beau, let’s get this done right here. Let’s not disturb the shadows of the past, they can only bring grief and sorrow.”

“OK, if you want it, I won’t insist. But let me tell you one last thing: if ever you want to take a DNA test, I will gladly help you.”

Kale saw the two men exchanging an intense, friendly glance and broke the tension with a joke: “I can easily guess what kind of DNA sample you’re so eager to provide!”

They all laughed, with lighter hearts, and Gaston stood up: “I have to go, now. The other guest may need me! Ha ha! I’ll be downstairs. À bientôt!”

 

~ A public speech ~

Beau and Kale took their time to get showered and dressed, and went downstairs. The concierge smiled wide seeing them: “Monsieur le Vicomte! I hope you’re enjoying your stay!”

“Very much” – Beau replied – “We’re enjoying it so much that we’d like to extend our stay for another day, if possible…”

“This is high season, but I’ll do the impossible for you, Monsieur!” – the old man said, and started browsing the pages of a big register with a hilarious concentrated expression, as if those pages were really filled with names and dates. “Oui! I can keep you in the Imperial Suite for one more day… or even longer, if you’d like to.”

“You’re exquisitely gracious, Serge. Merci beaucoup!” – Beau replied with… ‘Viscounty’ politeness – “Now, may I ask you another favour?”

“Command me in all things!” – the concierge exclaimed eagerly, and again Beau and Kale exchanged an amused glance.

“It came to my attention that you are the President of the Historic Society, so I guess you’re a fine connoisseur of the local traditions, and especially of the correct procedures regarding the title of the Viscount…”

“Of course! If I may say, no one is more expert than me on the subject.”

“Good. You see, I have a doubt… You know by now that I’m married to this wonderful man” – Beau said, smiling at Kale – “and I was wondering: what happens to the title if the Viscount cannot or chooses not to have children?”

“The Viscount can pass the title to another man not in his family lineage…” – the concierge replied, authoritatively – “…either in his Last Will or while still alive. It’s only required that the man has a relationship with Saint-Julien, by birth or descent, and the title is transferred by public deed.”

“Wonderful, thank you very much, Serge. Now, do you think that the inhabitants of Saint-Julien would like to meet me? I don’t want to impose on them, of course, but…”

“They all will be enthusiastic, Monsieur! I actually… ehm… suggested to some friends to come visit me here in the late afternoon, so maybe you could meet them in the Grand Salon, here” – he said opening a double door. Beau and Kale stifled a smile, as the ‘Grand Salon’ was actually a modest dining room with no more than five round tables, but it was cozy enough for a meeting with the local residents.

“Excellent!” – Beau exclaimed – “Is five o’clock a convenient time?”

“Of course, Monsieur!”

Beau and Kale took their leaves from the kind concierge and went visiting the village and its surroundings; they came back to the Auberge few minutes after five and went straight to the Grand Salon. There were about thirty persons, whose ages ranged from old to venerable. All the seats were taken, which probably didn’t happen since the Belle Epoque.

Beau and Kale noticed with an inner sigh that Gaston was there, too, busy serving tea and Pastis. As soon as they entered the room, everyone respectfully stood up… or at least those who could stand up. Serge gestured to Beau to take place on a small worn-out podium («Probably a remain of the French Revolution» – Beau thought). He cleared his throat and assumed a dignified pose, suitable for a Viscount.

“My dear friends of Saint-Julien” – Beau said aloud, talking in French to be understood by the villagers – “First and foremost I beg for your forgiveness, as I should’ve come visit this beautiful town long ago. As some of you may know, I live in America, but I love Provence, a land that gave me a lot, including the man I love and recently married”. He gestured toward Kale, who couldn’t help but notice with embarrassment some joyful comments, but some outraged exclamations, as well.

“I won’t take much of your time” – Beau went on – “I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you how much I love Saint-Julien; and I also want to make things straight with my past and this charming village. Though I’ve always taken very seriously my title of Viscount of Saint-Julien, I think I failed with you all, as much as did my father, who came here only once in his life. You deserve a much better Viscount.”

“For this reason…” – Beau added solemnly after a dramatic pause – “…under the Succession laws, I hereby renounce to my title and I transfer it, effective immediately, to a man who has a strong connection with Saint-Julien and loves it dearly. And besides, he bears the perfect name for the role, as it’s the name of almost half of the past Viscounts. Please salute the new Vicomte de Saint-Julien: Gaston!”

The bottle or Pastis that slipped from Gaston’s fingers crashed to the floor in the deadly silence of the room, filling it with the sweet aniseed aroma. And then, the joy of the villagers exploded all at once, with croaking cheers and congratulations blurred through shaky dentures.

All the villagers crowded around Gaston, while Beau and Kale looked at him, still shocked for the surprise, shake hands and being patted on the shoulder. “You did the right thing” – Kale said, throwing an arm around Beau’s waist – “Look at how happy he is, I love you for what you’ve just done. I only hope that this won’t rekindle the gossips about your father…”

As a matter of fact, among the comments, Beau heard several people mention Sir Finley, so he took a deep breath and said aloud: “Mesdames et Messieurs, s’il voul plait!”

Hearing the… ex-Viscount talking, the chatter instantly stopped, and Beau said: “I heard the rumors regarding Gaston and my father. Neither of us, and this includes each of you” – he said, pointing his fingers around – “really knows the truth, and no one will ever know it, as neither Gaston nor myself are willing to make any step to open a vase that could only let out sorrow and regrets. Let’s bygones be bygones. My father and Gaston’s mother are long dead, so let them rest in peace. Saint-Julien has now a brand new… and let me say, handsome as the sun, loyal Viscount; so, long live the Vicomte de Saint-Julien!”

More, even louder cheers filled the room and Beau sneaked away, hand in hand with Kale, unnoticed.

 

~ Aunt Yvette ~

The next day they went back to Palais Harcourt, much to Aunt Yvette’s joy. After lunch, Beau felt the need to take a walk, alone, to reconnect to the places of his childhood, and Kale stayed at home, sipping a fine Limoncello with Aunt Yvette, on the sunny terrace overlooking the blue Mediterranean Sea.

“I hope not to embarrass you, Aunt Yvette, as we met only two days ago” – Kale said, wearing a friendly smile – “but I really like you. I knew you were a special person the moment you welcomed us on the house steps. You actually surprised me with your verve, your lively spirit, and… your open-mindedness, quite unusual for a lady… uhm… ‘differently young’. Maybe you didn’t hope for your only nephew to marry a man, but you accepted it as the most natural thing in the world.”

Yvette flashed an affectionate smile: “All I hoped for Beauregard was to find a true love. Well, another one, I mean, after Jordan’s tragedy. And now that I met you, I know for sure that my hopes have been fulfilled. You are a great couple, and I’m happy for you. People think that being in my silver years, and unmarried, I can’t understand same-sex love.”

“But you do” – Kale acknowledged – “You seem rather amused, if I may say so…”

The old lady looked at the distant horizon with a faraway glance. “I’ve traveled a lot in my life. I’ve done the Grand Tour four times, I visited so many places, met so many people, and I had… there’s no reason to hide it… many men. But there was a constant in all my travels and in my life: my Lady-in-waiting, Chantal, may she rest in peace.”

Yvette looked at Kale sideways, sipping her Limoncello: “We were more than friends… Much, much more… What we did in the secrecy of our alcove was… sublime, nothing comparable to what I got from men. Oh, don’t take me wrong, I loved men! And I enjoyed more than a fair share of masculine ardor in my bed, during my life! Every country has wonderful men: the French are elegant, Germans are impetuous, Americans are imaginative. And Italian men… Oh! Those muscular hairy bodies, those strong hands that sneaked everywhere, that audacity! You should travel to Italy, you’d go crazy with those hot men… No, wait, you’re married: don’t go to Italy, it’s too dangerous!”

They both laughed merrily, and Kale said softly: “You’re such a wonderful person… You’re so sweet and sincere!”

“Don’t make me too sweet, my dear boy” – Yvette replied with an urchin glance – “You may not believe it, looking at me now, but back in the day I was considered a very beautiful girl, and I soon found out that I could make most men do whatever I wanted, just flaunting a promise of the delights I could grant them. And… well… I sometimes took advantage of my strong influence in ways that those men didn’t expect…”

Kale didn’t say anything, he just looked intently at Aunt Yvette; he was dying to know what she made her men do, but of course he couldn’t ask. Yvette filled again their small glasses with Limoncello and turned to look at the horizon stifling a rascal grin.

“The first time, it happened in Tuscany; I was eighteen, I had already made my debut in society, but I was still a maiden. Oh, this doesn’t mean I was inexperienced” – Yvette made clear – “I was just forbidden to go… all the way, that’s all, but I knew my stuff, so to speak. Winds of war were blowing across the world, and we youngster felt like we had to treasure every moment of our life.”

“At an afternoon tea I met two young men, Hernando and Bruno, one Spanish and one Italian, two wonderful specimens of masculinity, toned body, dark hair and turbid eyes. I felt a fire burning inside me, and I invited them to my hotel room; and there, I took my time, taking their clothes off and slowly getting naked myself. I lay on the bed and offered myself to their hands and lips, until I saw they were totally consumed with their lust.”

“I rose on my knees and straddled Hernando in a ‘viceversa’ position… I think it’s called ‘sixty-nine’ nowadays, how charming… and started kissing his turgid tool, and he did the same with my rose. Oh, in case it’s not clear, with ‘kissing’ I mean… well… a very deep kiss, I was quite skilled in the oral department!”

Kale giggled, but didn’t interrupt Yvette, eager to know the rest.

“Bruno was watching us, caressing his own manhood; it was so thick and inviting! And I mean ‘caressing’ with a tight grip, I think you know what I mean… You see, I’ve been taught that an unmarried lady doesn’t go any further than ‘caressing’ and ‘kissing’, but no one taught me what those words meant, so I had to learn it by experience!”

She giggled and flashed an impish glance at Kale, who was amused by the funny contrast between the chaste words used by the old lady and the hot acts underlying them. “Anyway, Bruno was clearly eager to join the action, so I made him kneel on the bed between Hernando’s legs, raised my lips from his member and gave to Bruno a French kiss. While out tongues embraced, I suddenly thought with an inner shiver that Bruno was savoring the taste of his friend’s male endowment, lingering in my mouth, and a sudden dirty thought crossed my mind.”

“I went on kissing Bruno and caressing Hernando, putting in my act all the passion I had to give, until Hernando started squirming, dangerously getting close to the peak of his pleasure, and Bruno was on fire, eating my lips and my tongue. I slowly lowered my head, and Bruno followed me, until Hernando’s turgid member was at a centimeter from my chin… and from Bruno’s lips.”

Kale widened his eyes in disbelief: the silver lady was wicked indeed!

 

~ Under Yvette’s spell ~

“I put a hand behind Bruno’s head and recoiled a little bit, making our lips part… and then gently pushed his head over the throbbing manhood I held in my other hand. Out of pure instinct, Bruno stiffened, and tried to withstand my push, and when I applied a greater pressure, he shot at me such a delightfully desperate glance, as if he was begging me ‘don’t make me do this’… But the promise of paradise he saw in my eyes (and in my bosom, too…) made his certainty waver, and I guided his open mouth over Hernando’s stiff member.”

“Bruno wanted to please me, he was so aroused that he would’ve done anything to get the final prize, and I pushed his head with gentle firmness on his friend’s manhood, over and over, faster, deeper. Bruno’s gurgles were music to my ears, the tears flowing from his eyes made me feel powerful in my femininity. In my youthful years I’ve always considered sex an act of submission of the woman to the man, but it wasn’t true! In that moment, I had Bruno in my power, completely and helplessly!”

While talking, Yvette’s eyes were shining, and Kale could clearly spot, under the thick veil of the age, the fierce, determined woman she once had been.

“I felt Hernando squirm under me, climbing to the acme of his pleasure; I was still straddling him, he couldn’t see anything but my derriere, and when I knew he had past the point of no return, I quickly moved away and enjoyed the shock on Hernando’s face, when he found out that the sheer pleasure he was feeling had been provided by a man, his friend! And the shock became even greater, when Hernando couldn’t stop himself from exploding into Bruno’s mouth. I still remember his regretful exclamations: ‘Oh god, Bruno, no!’ ‘I’m sorry buddy, nnngghhh!! I can’t stop!!’ ‘You bitch!’ (that was directed to me)”.

“Well…” – Kale commented, cautiously – “Though it’s unforgivable to address a lady like that, you have to admit you had it coming…”

Yvette giggled: “I totally had it coming, but I almost didn’t notice the insult, as what was happening before my eyes was going beyond any expectation. You see, when I moved away from Hernando, I let go of Bruno’s head, but he went on kissing his friend’s throbbing member, totally on his own, and he was even eagerly drinking his essence! And Hernando, too, moments after calling me… that way, succumbed to the pleasure Bruno was giving him, and totally abandoned himself to the ecstasy.”

“When the eruption ended, Bruno raised his head and looked at Hernando, unsure what to do next. There was such a touching shame and uncertainty in Bruno’s expression! He was ashamed because he went by himself way beyond what I gently forced him to do; and he was almost holding his breath, scared of his friend’s reaction. Because, you see, in those few seconds Bruno knew that his own masculinity was at stake, and you know how important is for Italian men their masculinity! So, Bruno held his breath, silently pleading his friend with a heart-throbbing glance not to blame him for what he’d just done.”

“But Hernando had no hesitation whatsoever: he rose sitting, took Bruno’s face in his hands and gave him a passionate kiss, sharing with him the manly juices still lingering in Bruno’s mouth. Ah! Looking at those fiercely heterosexual men hungrily kissing was for me better than any sexual pleasure they could give me! I was just a bit sorry for Bruno, but my anxiety was completely dispelled when he got off the bed and I spotted a large wet mark where Bruno had shot his semen, without even touching himself.”

The Limoncello was long finished, but both Kale and Yvette were still holding their empty glasses. They exchanged a glance, and it was clear that the story had been hot for Kale to listen to, as much as it was for Yvette to remember and tell it.

“You… you have a special touch with men…!” – Kale then said, after a long pause – “I wish I could’ve met you when you were eighteen… Granted, I would’ve done whatever you asked me!”

“Oh, you sweet flatterer! That one in Tuscany was actually just a first clumsy attempt. In the following years I perfectioned my strategy: once, I even made my then secret lover – a tall black man as endowed as a horse! – break open the pristine rear portal of a German lumberjack…”

“No way! I’m in awe with your mastery, Aunt Yvette, Chapeau…” – Kale exclaimed, giggling – “But… does Beau know about that? About your… adventures, I mean.”

“No, I never talked with Beauregard about such matters, and I count on your discretion. In Beau’s eyes I’m about all it remains of his mother. My sister Alienor, Beau’s mother, was a sweet lady, a gentle person. She didn’t deserve to have a horrible man such as Sir Finley as husband. And what I just said, Kale, is another thing you won’t relate to Beau, if you love him. And I know you love him…”

“I do, Aunt Yvette. I love him more than I can possibly say…”

“Good. Fancy another little drop of Limoncello?” – Yvette tweeted, happy – “Italian liquors are so warm, tasty and pungent, they slide smoothly down your throat and make your head light…”

Kale poured some more liquor into their glasses, wondering if Yvette’s was really talking about the Limoncello, or another kind of Italian juice…  

 

With a contented sigh, Kale reclined on the chaise-long, enjoying the warm sun over his skin. He smiled, with his eyes closed, thrilled that their trip to France was going to last two more weeks. «I want to stay here forever…» – he thought, in heaven.

But Kale and Beau’s beautiful honeymoon was about to come to an abrupt end…

 

* * * * * * * *