A Short Break in France

You've flown to Paris and then on down to Perpignan where we have rented an apartment.You're a bit grumpy and very tired after the long journey and have fallen asleep in the car on the way from the airport to the apartment. It is mid-siesta time here and so no-one is about when we arrive and I need to wake you up. You had loosened your belt and undone the top couple of buttons on your fly to be a bit more comfortable in the passenger seat ... so it is easy for me to slip my hand in and start to massage your cock and balls gently through your those horrible baggy 'old-man' boxers you insist on wearing sometimes. I can feel you stiffening nicely so they do have their compensations and a cheeky smile appears on your face; one eye opens and you whisper 'I'd wake up more quickly if you put your hand inside my briefs?' I move my hand to the elastic waistband of your shorts and pull it out to make you think I was going to do just that. But instead I let go so it makes a 'Thwack!' sound as it pings hard against your stomach! I get out of the car as you call me a rude name!!! But with a huge grin on your handsome face so I know that I am not in too much trouble!

We walk to the owner's front door and ring the bell. It's an old, traditional farm house, very rustic-looking in the local beige stone. Looking around we can see a swimming pool with a nice view down the valley. Close by, there's a bbq area and an outside shower as well as a changing area screened off with bamboo matting ... not very effectively in my mind as you can see through it even at this distance!

No answer so we ring again. Then we hear a voice 'Attendez... je m'habille... j'arrive, j'arrive!'

[Hang on ... I'm getting dressed ... I'm coming! I'm coming!]. Seconds later, a young man opens the door, naked but for a pair of baggy shorts. Slim and fit rather than muscular, tanned and with huge brown eyes. Definitely a good-looking dude!!! He explains that his parents have been called away for a family bereavement and he's come up for the weekend to let us into the apartment before returning to Perpignan. 'I take you the apartment now? Yes? I am Philippe.'. He picks up the keys but drops them by accident. When he bends over you can see the top of his bum crack and it's very clear that young Philippe is very likely to have an all-over tan!!!

He leads us round the swimming pool, showing us the shower area and the changing area. 'The screen is very old but we don't really use a changing area much here!' I take it to mean that Philippe doesn't bother to change into anything when he uses the pool. His shorts are old and the elastic in the waistband has seen better days because the shorts have slipped down and you can see quite a lot of his pubic hair poking over the top. He's quite aware that our eyes keep dropping down to this area of his body but equally seems totally unconcerned by this. His eyes keep darting up to the first floor window behind us and there looks to be 'movement' inside his shorts but when I turn around to look up to the window, the person in the room pulls back and hides. Philippe can't hide his growing erection now so gives us the key to the apartment and says 'Sorry, but I must to go!' with a huge grin his face!!! One last look at the fat outline of his dick through his shorts tells us that whoever is in the room will soon have a big smile on their lips!!!

We go into the apartment and you immediately go to lie down on the bed. You're so tired. I take off your shoes and socks. When I move to pull down your trousers, you say 'I can do it!'. But you don't stop me. I unbutton your shirt and slip it off. I pull off your boxers to reveal that gorgeous dick but you're already asleep so I give you a kiss and cover you up with just a sheet because it is so hot.

Three hours later and you're still asleep and it's my turn to be grumpy. I'm hungry. I've prepared the food ... salads, cheese, charcuterie, baguette and a nice bottle of red wine ... of course!!!! I decide that you need to wake up. I pull off the sheet and you are lying there with a full hardon, fast asleep. I bend over you and take one of your balls gently into my mouth to caress with my tongue. I lick your dick from the base to the top. Gradually, you start to stir. I pull down your foreskin to reveal the head and flick the tip of my tongue against the thin membrane below the head. I put the whole of you in my mouth and suck, moving you in and out a couple of times. Then I look up at your face and you are wide awake with a grin on your face stretching from Perth to Sydney!! I get up and say 'Food first!' and walk into the kitchen. You hurl a pillow after me and more rude names follow! 'Save your energy for the swimming pool!' I shout back!

We've finished our meal. I had three glasses of wine and so did you. It's still lovely and warm at 9.00 in the evening and we're clearing up. Or, more accurately, you're washing up at the sink, with your back to me wearing a pair of those ruddy boxers and nothing else and I'm bringing you the dishes from outside where we were eating. Nearly finished now. Another two trips and it will all be done. Just before I turn to go outside I pull down your shorts to reveal your cute ass. You sigh and mutter something different again but carry on doing the washing up.

When I come in again for the last time, you've stepped out of your shorts and are completely naked. You've spread your legs apart so I can just see your tackle hanging down between your legs ... you know so well how much that turns me on! I come up behind you and stand really close against you, pushing you against the sink. I make circular movements against your buttocks, then rub against them from side to side. Then, I put my right hand under the cold tap and, stepping away from you, I slip my wet hand sideways between your buttocks, running it up and down gently between them. You wince a little when I go over your hole because the water was ice cold but you bend forward over the sink to make it easier for me. I squat down and kiss your buttocks, first on one side, then on the other, getting closer to your hole. I lick it with just the tip of my tongue, then going in circles around it, first this way and then the other way. You're muttering to yourself again but it's clear you like it! I turn you round. You're hard but I hold your dick up against your stomach so I can take one of your balls gently into my mouth. I roll my tongue around it and then do the same with the other one. Then I lick the base of your dick, flicking upwards a little higher each time. I lick the top of your gorgeous pink head, then up your dick from the base and only then do I turn to the rim and your most sensitive parts. I flick my tongue against against the thin membrane. Then I take the whole of your dick in my mouth and suck and suck and move you in and out, changing the shape of my tongue inside my mouth to try and make the sensation different for you. My right forefinger and thumb are circled around the base of your dick and my left hand is fingering your hole.

Just when you say that you're getting close to cumming, I stop and stand up. 'I'm going for a swim!' ... the look on your face is priceless. More verbal abuse from you!!! At the door, I turn, drop my shorts and flash you a quick view of my hard dick. You run after me and push me into the swimming pool, laughing. Then you dive in over me and I get a great view of your still hard dick above me as you do.

We swim around each trying to grab hold of the other's dick or to get behind the other. Somehow you get one of your legs over my shoulder and are trying to get the other one over the other shoulder too ... but after a nice meal and the journey and the play-fighting, we are having a bit of a breather. We hear voices. Philippe's parents!!!! We are out of the pool in seconds but the only place to hide is behind the changing area screen .... it's too far to the door of our apartment. The voices get louder and two figures appear. We squat down behind the screen, knowing that it is not exactly great cover!!! The voices are laughing and my guess that they are a bit drunk is proved correct when Philippe appears with two bottles of champagne at the end of his toned arms, one of which he takes repeated swigs from. The second voice belongs to another guy, who's black and about the same age as Philippe. As soon as they get to the pool area, Philippe places the bottles on the table outside our front door, drops his shorts and bends over the table. His companion laughs and slaps him on the bum playfully as he pulls off his t-shirt and undoes his trousers to reveal a very lean and muscular body. We are both sqatting, me behind you with my legs up around yours. Both your and my dick have reacted to the scene in the same way and my dick is hard up against your hole. You are rubbing yours. Philippe's friend is inside him now and is thrusting away quite hard ... to Philippe's evident pleasure given the loud moans coming from him. We stand up and I slip inside you and start to thrust, though less violently than on the other side of the pool. Your hand is on your dick and you climax. Your hole contracts around my dick and that brings me there more quickly and more explosively than expected. I lose my balance and knock over the screen which makes Philippe and his friend look over at us and laugh! Not that the friend stops what he's doing at all ... ten seconds later he lets out a loud 'Ungh!' and it's very clear that he's unloaded his frustration too! Philippe gestures to us to come round to their side of the pool and promptly pours the rest of the first bottle of champagne all over his chest and tackle!! His friend immediately latches on to Philippe's dick and sucks away like his life depends on it! Philippe has barely introduced him 'The owner of this beautiful mouth and dick is Yann by the way!' when he climaxes in Yann's mouth! 'Here, wash it down with some of this!' and he then opens the second bottle of champagne!'

And that's only day one of the holiday!

Waking up, I am relieved that my eyes open painlessly. They're all scratchy, it's true, but at least they don't hurt ... yet! I move my head slightly, waiting for the hangover to come thumping in uninvited but not exactly unexpectedly after last night's champagne excesses. But nothing ...yet! It's just biding its time. Your good-natured but tuneless singing coming from outside puts a scowl on my face and I put out my hand to grab the bottle of water by my bed. Instead, I touch the packet of paracetamol which you, Mr Infuriatingly Immune to Hangovers, have thoughtfully put ready for me when you got up, fresh as a daisy no doubt. I sit up a bit and knock two capsules down. I'm smiling to myself though, scowl banished. Now to wait and pray the tablets kick in before the hangover realises you've out manoeuvred it as well as my bad mood!

The apartment is a studio with no real separate rooms as such. From the bed I can see the whole kitchenette, most of the lounge area as well as the front door. Through it, outside, there's the end of the table where Yann and Philippe put on such a memorable show last night. You're padding in and out, clearing the table of empty champagne bottles, leftover snakes, plates. You're stark naked and so supremely natural with it. I watch you, drinking in your body beautiful. It's just then that I realise just how bloody jealous of you I am. Jealous of your not being 50. Of how damn handsome you are. But mostly of your physical presence. Every part of you says 'I am male. 100% man'. Of your sheer size. You're a big guy. Not ungainly big though. Just solid. From your calves to your thighs .... your legs all say power, strength. It's the same for your arms, shoulders ... your chest ... you just cannot be ignored. I feel jealous or even angry? Stupidly I know. But at the same time I'm SO drawn to you --- like others. So attracted to you --- like others. My dick is hard from just watching you and your physical self-assuredness as you move around. And then, you look directly at me with those eyes of yours. Flash me THAT easy-going, good-natured, confident smile of yours. And that does it for me. I WANT YOU. Skinny, clearly not in your league me wants to TAKE you. Make you mine. Now. So that, at least for a while, you belong to me! A second later I find myself at the door, having grabbed the lube without really realising I was doing so. You see I'm erect and, grinning, go to kiss me but I ignore you and push you back down onto the table. You're quite startled but just lay back. I pull up your legs and squirt the lube around your hole. I push my fat forefinger in and out to open you up and then it's my dick's turn. You wince a little but soon I'm pumping you hard. I can feel my balls banging against your ass. It's good to feel I'm inside you. Sooooo good. I can feel my orgasm rising quickly. You pry my hands off your knees and squeeze them, preparing to ride my climax with me though you are nowhere near cumming yourself. When it arrives, it's like I'm being pulled into you, the orgasm convulsing my dick into five or six intense contractions which even reach to my hole. After it subsides, I stay inside you to prolong the feeling of you being mine for as long as possible. You smile up at me 'Well that was crap for me but you obviously needed it! What brought that on?'. 'I just did! That's all!' All of a sudden, I feel ashamed. I pop out of you, soft. I grab your dick with one hand. You're not exactly soft, not hard though either. I run the finger tips of my other hand over the ridge between your hole and your sack. There's enough lube and cum there to make the sensation pleasant enough to get you hard quickly. I push one forefinger inside you, searching for your prostate. 'You are going to cum for me now!' More lube on your fat dick and very soon you're arching your back and writhing as I get you to cum in my hand, moaning nicely. You sit up and plant a kiss on my lips. 'That bit wasn't crap!' I turn around towards the pool and it's only then I see Yann and Philippe standing on the other side of the pool, watching the whole thing. 'Best cure for a hangover!' I shout as we jump in the pool.

We went visiting a chateau today mainly because I like history and you were a complete pain through most of the tour because you were bored! History is a passion for me (together with red wine, cheese and a certain man with the most gorgeous face this side of Venus) but it clearly wasn't one of yours! You raced through most of the exhibits and clearly annoyed the tour guide (who incidentally smelled like something from the 18th century!). You had a glazed look on your nevertheless attractive face throughout ... until we got to 'the so-called King's Chamber' and heard the stuffy tour guide explain how the staircase in the right tower led to the Queen's Chambers and the one in the left tower led to the apartment where he had installed his mistress. 'We will visit the mistress' apartments as the Queen's are closed!' she said pompously, staring at us both with a gloating expression that even had me irritated! Sure enough, there was a token barrier blocking access to the stone circular staircase on the right-hand side of the room.

The grin that swept over your face and the accompanying glint in your eye told me it was probably best to try to follow the prissy tour guide quickly before your devilment bore fruit but you put paid to that idea by putting your hand on the waistband of my jeans and pulling me backwards. We ended up being 'left behind' just as you intended ... clearly. Within seconds, I found myself being propelled around the barrier and up the first few steps to the Queen's chambers. Then you sat down on the stairs in front of me. I was standing on the first step my back to the open doorway and you must have been on the fourth or fifth step. You lean forward and pulling me towards you, nuzzle your face into my groin, exhaling your warm breath right slap bang on my already stiffening dick. You undo my zip and my prick is pulled out and gets your lips wrapped around it immediately. You flatten your tongue against the sensitive underside of my shaft and suck and push and pull me backwards and forwards until I am so aroused and desperate to cum, I have to put my arms out against the sides of the stairs to steady myself. It's just at that moment when we hear voices again in the room that brings on an intense orgasm for me. Short but oh so sweet. Dick gets returned to the inside of my trousers and we return to the otherwise empty King's Chambers to be met by Her Royal Prissiness sailing towards us like a battleship at full steam. She demands 'What were you doing? What exactly?' You look her squarely in the face and in the most matter of fact voice possible reply 'I sucked him off on the stairs. And I swallowed.' Her face went the exact same shade as the red velvet on the King's throne. We didn't bother with the rest of the tour.

I love food. I should be fat not skinny so I could eat even more than I do already but we all have our crosses to bear in life! Only within the last five years have I been able to pinch more than an inch around my stomach and it's great. I am pleased to carry a bit extra and to see a bit extra in others too. It says 'I am comfortable being imperfect me!' Abs are lovely to look at but they can sometimes introduce a person who's not yet happy in their own skin. Which brings me, in a roundabout way, to the food for this evening ... a great Australian Barbie (your suggestion) and a fresh fruit salad (my stupid, stupid idea). All of which explains why you are stretched out on the grass, sunbathing and I am sat at the table peeling and chopping every bloody type of fruit known to man!

You wound me up quite nicely when we were buying the food for this evening's meal too. Usually it is me that does the teasing ... and I do like it best that way! I feel I am much less gifted at being teased than the other way round but I have to say you did my job rather well today. At the meat-counter, you scoffed at the size of the steaks 'In Australia, they'd be much bigger!', at the range of BBQ grub 'Oh! They don't have any xyz! I love xyz! You can't have a Barbie without xyz!' Then it was the size of the mangos 'Call that a mango? In the Philippines, they'd be twice the size!' .... all done with a huge Filipino grin on your beautiful face so I knew it was all said tongue in cheek to wind me up. But it still had me desperately plotting revenge as we chose the wine. After 'Australian wine has been winning a lot more prizes than French wine recently.' , I picked the pineapple up out of the trolley and threatened to insert it 'where even the Filipino sun doesn't shine!' You just laughed and whispered that, of the two of us, I 'had more to lose by doing that!' before bending over and pretending to pick up a bottle from the bottom shelf to make your point! I looked at your buttocks and was forced to admit 'You might have a point there!' But you did pack in the teasing at least and that gave me time to plot. The pineapple had done its duty and shut you up! And it had given me an idea for revenge!

So, though it was distinctly tedious, I wasn't entirely unhappy to be peeling nectarines, peaches, oranges and basically every bloody fruit known to the supermarket buyer! (But not apricots, which I loathe and which should be made illegal!!! Awful things.) As I prepared the fruit, I shared it one third and two thirds between two bowls. The larger one getting a healthy dose of rum 'to help things along' and the smaller would be getting a healthy, last minute dose of prosecco bubbles when I'd finished tackling the pineapple! That needed the rough outside taking off first, then the eyes, then slicing into one inch thick slices. There was still a bit of work to be done but I deserved a breather ... I thought at least! And a glass of the lovely cold refreshing prosecco!!! I looked across at you on the lawn, now fast asleep, mouth open. A stark naked, gorgeous, gorgeous man sleeping on the grass with his mouth open ... . I dismissed all thoughts of exactly what I could put in that mouth and returned to coring the rather robust pineapple slices. I put two aside and added the rest as chunks to the two bowls. The larger one went into the fridge and I added a glass or two of the prosecco to the smaller one. And a few ice cubes too ...

I dropped my shorts and naked now, I looked over at you. You were lying on your back, your lovely fat dick to one side, cupped between your stomach and the top of your thigh. That exact place where I love licking and kissing you. You were neither hard nor completely soft. Either you'd had an erection, which I'd missed, and were on the way down or you were having a nice dream and were on the way up. The sight of you meant that it didn't take much rubbing to get me hard though. I grabbed the two pineapple rings and the bowl of fruit and moved to stand over you, one foot on either side. I picked out a couple of pieces of fruit from the bowl and squeezed them so the cold juice fell onto your chest. You awoke pretty immediately to the sight of the two pineapple rings adorning my erect penis above you. You broke into a fit of laughter 'You look ridiculous! Absofuckinglutely ridiculous!' I laughed too and promptly poured the fruit salad, prosecco and ice cubes over you. 'You bastard!' I tried to move away but you caught my ankle and pulled me back onto you ... without too much resistance from me admittedly! I lay down on top of you, partly to crush the fruit on you and partly to let you feel me hard against your stomach. My weight was very good at squashing the strawberries, did a passable job on the peaches but lets just say the pineapple rings were not a hit and were soon sent flying into the hedge! The fruit pulp and prosecco made it so easy to slide up and down your body. It felt really good. Some banana had got caught around your nipple. I don't normally like banana but it tasted delicious as I licked it off ... though that could have been the prosecco! I made to put a grape in your mouth and then at the last minute popped it into mine. 'Baaastard!!!' Letting you eat a piece of pineapple from my teeth led to an extended kissing session. I moved down to your navel and managed to stop a little pool of prosecco going to waste. Licking the sweet juice off your lower abdomen was easy, avoiding touching your quivering dick was a just a little more troublesome! I wasn't going to give him what he wanted quite so easily or quite so early! I turned you over onto your stomach and pulled you on to your knees with your cute ass presenting itself nicely. I bent my head down to start to rim you but caught a strong whiff of chlorine from the dip in the pool you had taken earlier. Instead I picked up a largish piece of peach that had somehow survived relatively intact and rubbed it up and down your bum crack. You let out a gentle moan. My tongue flicking ever so lightly against your hole made you squirm. And moan a little louder. And tell me not to stop! I picked up four or five pieces of strawberry, crushed them in my right hand and took hold of your dick, using the pulp to help me bring you to climax. Just as your hole was contracting with your orgasm, I slipped into you. I tried to last, tried to gyrate my hips but my orgasm followed far too soon afterwards. As we both stood up, I pointed out 'See a French fruit salad IS better than an Aussie BBQ ... you can't do that with a steak and sausages!' You scooped me up in your arms and dropped me head first into the swimming pool. My turn to call you a bastard!

I am seriously livid with you. Raging! The heatwave (37°C!) and blazing sun doesn't help none too much either! I am usually the 'wet liberal understanding forgiving type' but this time, you have managed to piss me off royally. You've angered me before, it's true but previously you have always come back with a sheepish, little-boy grin on that handsome face, put your arms round me and whispered some unspeakably indecent suggestion into my ear whilst attempting to finger me and inside, I've melted instantly --- outwardly, I've played hard to get for a full ten minutes though before we hit the sack. But this time, no. That you told me over breakfast that you have 'forgotten' to buy me a present for my birthday, when, for fuck's sake, my birthday was supposedly the whole reason for the weekend break in the first place (!!!!), is already unpardonable in itself. That after breakfast, for an hour and a half, you went off God knows where, for an hour and A HALF with Yann and his perfectly toned body FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF ... THAT is a hanging offence all on its own!! But that's not why my anger has broken new territory with you this time. It's because this time, there's been no trace of a sheepish 'Sorry!' from you. This time you haven't deployed your disarming smile, flashed your gorgeous eyes at me or bent over suggestively at every possible opportunity. This time, you're different. No hint whatsoever of an apology. You came back with a smug look (which does NOT suit you by the way) and you dared to look me in the face. I know deep inside I would stupidly forgive you if only you asked. But you don't ask. Instead, you tell me we can go and get a takeaway from the crummy Vietnamese in the village (actually the Vietnamese is DAMN good but we'll skate over that!) And you say that you'll pay!! Big of you, that!! Of course you'll fuckin pay! I'm going to order everything on the menu! Twice! Aaaaaghhh!!!

I know I am a pig to buy a present for ... fussy and demanding and an all round nightmare but I have dropped so many hints. Real subtle ones like 'I really like this!' and 'Get me this for my birthday and I'll love you for at least the following week!' The black jacket in that clothes shop where the assistant kept flirting with you despite me being there. Do you remember how I got annoyed because you were responding to him far too positively for my liking ... until I twigged you were doing it to try to get me a discount! Then the guy twigged you were playing him like a two-string guitar and got all huffy!

And yesterday at that posh photographic gallery you insisted on going to ... quite uncharacteristically. But just because you felt that I 'might enjoy it'! I did actually. I fell in love with that black and white set of male nudes laughing together like it was the most natural thing in the world. 'Just like you and me!' was your comment! (But I admit it was way overpriced! Cloud cuckoo land the amount they wanted). So instead we went for a coffee in that shabby café, mainly 'cos it had air-conditioning, and whenever the clearly disapproving owner was looking at us, you kept fondling me under the table trying to get me hard!! We were laughing like the models in the photos ... only with our clothes on. Has our laughter come to an end now?

We've been laughing pretty much continuously since we met at the boss' housewarming party ... four years ago now. I'd been in their huge lounge for half an hour, already bored if the truth be known, when, for no apparent reason that I can recall, some second sense told me to turn round to see the most adorable but clearly unhappy face walk in to the room. You. It honestly took me five minutes to register that your boyfriend of the time was there too, hand clamped like a vice on your wrist to indicate total ownership. Or so he thought!! I spent the next hour following you from room to room, desperately trying to make eye contact with you. Discreetly. Or so I thought!! But boss' wives are far more perceptive than they are usually given credit for. And this one must have picked up on my none too hidden attraction to you and at the same time taken a healthy dislike to that little shit of a possessive boyfriend. She waited until he was trapped in conversation with the boss, and so unable to leave, then brazenly unclamped you from his grip and propelled you out of the lounge saying 'I need the help of a handsome man in the kitchen!' At the same time her huge grin to me and unashamedly unsubtle wink told me to follow by the other door. She and I burst into laughter when we arrived in the kitchen, which set you off too as you had apparently been very aware of my pathetic stalking efforts. All of which broke the ice between us and set the tone for the next 20 minutes. We chatted and laughed and spoke and smiled and giggled and she set about gradually and methodically ridding the kitchen of others to leave us alone to flirt. Not that we honestly needed any help. Then, all of a sudden, panic when we the three of us hear your boyfriend's voice coming down the corridor. She herself left in an attempt to delay his escape from her husband's clutches. I moved to the other door that would allow us to avoid him and yet rejoin the party but from one second to the next you became calm and instead, opened the window. Grabbing me firmly, you bundled me out onto the fortunately flat roof. There was no time to close the window before he arrived in the room, his voice clearly indicating annoyance at her delaying tactics. Before he could launch into you, I heard the words 'It's over. We're finished!' You spat them out at him really. No sugar-coating. My back flat against the outside wall, I couldn't see his reaction but he must have started to protest. You cut him dead 'I know you have been shagging Tom. I was going to finish it after the party but I can't wait. Leave now unless you want a huge scene. Remember this is your boss' house not mine'. The brutality of your words showed the hurt all too clearly. I heard him breathe out hard. He hadn't been expecting that at all. He stamped his foot petulantly but he must have thought better of it and turned tail because a second later you came through the window onto the roof. 'I've been needing to do that for a while!' But you were shaking and I motioned to you to sit down. You ignored me and, stepping forward, kissed me full square on my lips before pushing me back into the shadows so if someone entered the kitchen, they couldn't see us. You were covering me in kisses, now on my ear, now on my neck. Your hands over my back, my ass, my chest, pulling on my nipples, rubbing my crotch. Insistent. My body responded automatically and it was only five minutes later i realised i was undoing your shirt buttons and your pants were round your ankles! You slid down my body and kneeled in front of me. I could hardly breathe at the expectation of where you were going next. You undid my belt and the buttons of my fly slowly and purposefully. I was rigid under my boxers and you clamped your lips over me and moved up and down my shaft. Even through the material it felt wonderful. The next minute you were on your back and I was inside you. I can't remember getting there. I can't remember the voices coming out from the kitchen or up from the garden. I just remember moving in and out and rubbing your dick in tandem, my left hand on your knee as my body tried to maintain my balance and yet speed up the rhythm and the strength of my thrusts. Watching your face smiling up at me, so happy with yourself at having captured me so completely and so quickly. And I came. Good and hard. You followed and jizzed over your stomach. You laughed out loud when I bent over to kiss you, lost my balance and fell on top of you so your cum spread itself over my stomach too. And that was it. Instant attraction and more or less instant sex.

Please God, don't let it have been like that between you and Yann. To be honest, I didn't even think of you and Yann hooking up ... . His English is pretty ropey and I thought your French was so bad you'd have trouble getting a beer in a bar let alone getting a shag! Wrong I was, eh? But he's undeniably attractive, tall, young, and lean with a body that could have been chiselled from black diorite. And if the truth be known, about as much conversation as a statue. But I think we've established Philippe is not with him for his wit and repartee, is he? Philippe did strike me as more your type and I couldn't kill the twinge of anxiety when you and he wandered off to the bottom of the garden together after tea yesterday. But five minutes later you were back and his disarming, frank and clearly untrue explanation that you had been comparing the size of your dicks had me in stitches! All the more so because poor, beautiful Yann didn't get the joke in the slightest!!!

Yann's talking to you now, desperately failing to get his no doubt dull message across judging by the way he's waving those ebony arms around! I can see the beads of sweat on his skin glinting in the sun. I could step in and translate but screw you! If you're going to shag him then you're going to get the dull conversation that goes with him!

I've sulked all through the day's heat and tried to make it obvious that I was ignoring you ... and again, to add insult to injury, it hasn't seemed to upset you! But I am dreading the journey to and from the town because I'll be scared that I will let you see how much you have hurt me and at the moment I don't want you to know that I feel anything for you but rage.

Instead it's Philippe who comes over to say he'll drive us down to order the food and drop us at the bottom of the hill while he goes off wherever! Great ... I even get to carry my own birthday food up the hill! Whoopee!!! The three of us pile into Philippe's clapped out Peugeot ... you manage to claim the front passenger seat and in the back, it's me who gets to appreciate exactly what a sardine appreciates about being in a tin. The Peugeot smells a bit like it's been used to transport sardines over not short distances too! On the way down we are passed by about four cars hurtling by jammed with passengers ... though God only knows what they are hoping to find halfway up a hill, halfway to nowhere!! Annoyingly, Philippe speaks enough Engleesh to be able to chat to you, leaving me no alternative but to continue my ineffective sulk. Fortunately, the town is only 10 minutes away and we are soon pulling up outside the Vietnamese restaurant. I'm halfway out of the car when I hear you mutter 'Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!' and look up to see a signing the entrance saying 'Fermé ... exceptionnellement!' (Ie:'Closed ... exceptionally!'). 'Wot iz 'fuckity'? I 'av never 'eard zis worrd before!' I'm kinda disappointed because most of the journey was spent deciding which of my favourite dishes were the most expensive to order and kinda gloating that your usually exemplary planning has failed you spectacularly! We pile back into the Peugeot so thoughtfully and recently vacated by the Med's largest shoal of sardines and Philippe drives us back practising his pronunciation of 'Fuckity fuck! Fuckity fuck!' with all the fervour of a Buddhist chant.

We arrive and you are out of the car faster than a politician out of the back door of a brothel and disappearing behind the wooden gate to the pool area. Guilt ... possibly. Embarrassment ... probably. I climb wearily out of the car, wondering vaguely if there's enough soap in the bathroom to rid me of Eau de Sardine circa 2006. To be honest, resignation has swapped places with anger in me. I just want wine and a bath. Together. I trudge up to the gate, eyes fixed on the path, lest I should catch sight of Yann on the other side. I have barely registered that Philippe is hanging back, pulling bags and 'stuff' from the boot of the car. I walk in through the gate and find myself confronted by maybe 25 people. I hear three champagne corks pop and I am immediately drenched in cold fizz. You and Yann are both trying to shake the bottle in your hand but you are laughing so much, you can't. Yann just pours it over me instead 'You thought Yann and I were shagging, didn't you? Well, we haven't!' You kissed me then turned and looked Yann up and down and said 'Not a bad idea though!'  My turn to heap swear words on your head ...

If you can see the Great Wall of China from space, then my smile is no less visible. The relief that you've not forgotten my birthday, that you've not moved on from ME ... and that I mean enough for you to have organised a surprise party, well the heaving sobs come hard and fast ... I try to thump my fists against your chest but you just grab them and pull me close to you and kiss me like you've done hundreds of times before. But this time, it's different. The party falls silent, looking at us, knowing it's a moment to treasure. Then Anna pipes up 'Get a room for fuck's sake and let us paaaartttaaaay!' ... she always did know how a unsubtle remark can sometimes be the subtlest way of moving situations on without embarrassment! Everyone just laughs, the music is turned up and Philippe starts opening up the Vietnamese dishes; Yann sets to popping more bottles of fizz and I know it's going to be a fun birthday after all! 

'It's not over yet!' you mutter as you stick first one hand, then both hands, into the pockets of your thin white shorts, making great play of searching for something. Shorts, I might add, that hang rather lower than perhaps they ought. 'Too right it's not over Sweetie!' I say in my mock 'Diva throwing a hissy-fit' voice 'After a trick like you pulled, I want a HUGE prezzie, not you playin' pocket billiards!' The roll of your eyes and exaggerated dreamy look you put on indicates to all around that you've found something pleasurable to hold in your pants. Everybody laughs at your antics, myself included. Doubly so when I put both palms squarely on the middle of your chest and push you backwards into the pool. The look of shock on your face as you fall is one I will treasure for quite some time!

You surface, the good-natured grin on your face a reminder why I'm in love with you, and haul yourself out of the water. The sodden fabric is quite transparent and even in the failing evening light, a failure to wear underwear means your length is very apparent. And hugely erotic. A good inch of your pubes is above the waistband and it's a minor miracle that the shorts remain on ... albeit only technically! The equally flimsy shirt is transparent too and similarly happy to reveal your dark nipples and abs too. All in all, a reminder of why I'm in lust with you!

'T'as laissé un truc au fond! Regarde!' ('You've left something at the bottom! Look!'') Yann calls out. I wander out to the edge of the deep end, near the diving board, and the underwater lights do reveal a small dark shape. One of the others with me on the poolside chips in 'Packet of condoms???' to the amusement of all.

With hindsight, the mix of sheer relief that you were still mine, coupled with the champagne, were probably the cause of what happened next. Slipping off my shoes, I stepped onto the diving board, and casting inhibitions aside dropped my pants, revealing my only moderately impressive equipment to be safely tucked up in a stripey pair of supermarket brand boxers. The T-shirt joined the pants on the ground and the 1983 Southwest region under 15s Diving Finalist strode out to take up position at the end of the board.

Now, I have absolutely no recollection of what happened next and have to rely on Anna's words from here on. Apparently, it started well. I bounced up on the board appreciably well 'for my age'. I held shape 'passably' too. However, on my return down to the board, my left foot slipped and, according to Anna, also a diving finalist with me in 1983, I entered the water, heels first 'at the same angle as a dead body being buried at sea'. According to Anna, my right hand was cupping my genitals, to which she invariably follows up with the line 'obviously instinct borne of considerable experience of male genitals!'. Unfortunately, however, my head ruined the line and, lolling backwards, hit the upswing of the board! The resulting 'thwack' was 'dull enough to indicate a head that contains more than just air ... surprisingly!'. Her reaction at the time was, predictably, to say 'Fuck!' whereas, more fortunately Philippe and Yann dived in fully clothed to retrieve me, unconscious and bleeding from the pool. 

My next memory is waking up in a hospital bed with the French 1st Armoured Division using the inside of my head as a firing range for its heavy tanks. You, eyes somewhat red, were sat in a chair alongside my bed, your hands clamped to my right arm and, on the other side, Philippe was standing behind an uncharacteristically emotional Yann. 

By the time Anna appeared in the afternoon, armed with an enormous bunch of flowers and muttering about needing a second mortgage and 'not really liking him that much anyway', the Armoured Division had gone for lunch and I was able to hold a conversation. We chatted about what had happened and what I could and couldn't recall, the last thing being my looking down at this small, dark shape against the floor of the pool. 'What was it, anyway?' I asked. ' Oh shit, it's still there!' came your response! 'Err, no, I 'as it 'ere. I give you now, Geoff.' replied Yann passing it over but out of my line of sight.

You stood up and dropped a small, still damp object onto my stomach. Instinctively, I tensed up, wincing at the jab of pain that followed. My hands felt around until my fingers closed around it. The realisation it was a box, opening it and finding a ring inside all happened in a split second and my eyes filled up.

'Yes.'