A SHORT FRENCH KISS. =================== by Andy Macdonald.
I really do like Bournemouth. Sea air, wooded cliffs, foreign students, the lot. The first time I stayed there was one August Bank Holiday and I was really lucky and found a great guest house with a very friendly guy running it who introduced himself as Jim. Soon after he'd shown me my room he came back up and asked if I'd like a cup of tea or coffee; I said a cup of coffee would be great - and couldn't help thinking to myself that the more I saw of him the better.
He was soon back in my room with a mug of coffee and a friendly grin. He sat down on the end of my bed and enquired:
"First time in Bournemouth?"
"Yea" I answered "seems a nice place what little I've seen so far. Know any interesting places?"
"Depends what you're looking for" answered Jim. "Of course there's the beach at Studland, one good Pub and about three Clubs."
He nipped downstairs and was quickly back with a map which he spread out on the bed beside him. I peered over his shoulder while he sketched in the places he'd mentioned. I was really close to him and got a whiff of his sexy male smell and as he had his back to me I was able to look closely at the shape of his luscious arse encased in his thin, tight jeans.
"Oh there's another thing that Bournemouth's famous for," he said "here, here and here are some interesting cruising areas." He marked in three areas on the map. He looked up at me and I blushed because he had to've noticed my eyes locked on to the front of his thin jeans.
"That's great, thanks very much " I said as he handed me the map. Jim grinned cheekily at me, brushed his hand across his basket, winked and went out closing the door behind him.
I sighed. He was really cute and I had fancied him from the moment I'd clapped eyes on him. And it wasn't only my eyes that I now wanted to clap on him. Still I had booked the room for the long weekend and who knows, maybe something might happen later. I drank the coffee and laid down on the bed for a short nap, hoping my throbbing cock would stop nagging at me for release.
When I woke again it was half past nine and nearly dark. I got up and got dressed - tight white T-shirt, pair of red cotton underpants under one of my favourites, a pair of satiny shorts which fitted tight around my arse and crutch but had quite wide legs; I knew I looked great in them and they were thin enough to show a shadow of the red underpants. White socks and trainers and my trusty bomber jacket to top everything off. I took a look at Jim's map and decided to have a trawl in the Pub.
I was surprised to find it quite busy because it was still early. I got myself a lager and found a stool. Quite an interesting crowd of guys, the usual groups of friends and one or two loners, a couple well worth a second look. There was one guy, about my age, big strong looking shoulders, a narrow waist and surprisingly long legs. His hair was quite long and very thick at the back of his neck; it was a dark blond colour and his long legs and thighs were covered with a dark blond down. It was his shorts that I'd noticed first. They were just like the sexiest shorts that you see soccer players wearing on TV; very skimpy, very tight and made of some kind of shiny, thin satiny material. They showed of his basket to perfection and I nearly fell of my stool when I saw him turn away from the wall and go over to the bar to get another beer. God, that arse. The satiny shorts emphasised his tight, muscled buns and the fit was such that the material clung to his arse crack and brought his buttocks into high relief. As he waited to be served, he clenched his bum muscles a couple of times and that got my cock as hard as a ramrod. But that wasn't all, the shorts were obviously very tight up between his legs and he put his hand round behind him and tugged at the material between his buns. I couldn't tear my eyes away from that gorgeous sight.
After he'd got his beer he went back to lean against the wall where he'd been before. I tried to catch his eye but he hadn't seemed to have noticed me. I got down from my stool and wandered around a bit, just happening to end up leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to him.
"Down here for the holiday?" I asked him.
He looked at me - light blue eyes gazed candidly at me - and thought for a moment.
"Pardonnez moi, je suis francais et je ne parle pas anglais. Je reste dans une ecole des langues." he replied. He continued to gaze at me for a moment and then looked away in embarrassment.
Oh why hadn't I paid more attention to my French lessons in school. Here was this gorgeous hunky, shorts-clad guy and I couldn't think what to say next. He looked back at me and smiled, took a swig of his beer, parked it on the shelf behind him and walked out of the Pub. Should I follow him? Not much point because I couldn't speak to him anyway.
By now it was a quarter to eleven and there didn't seem to be anything to match the two lustworthy guys I'd seen that evening so I considered taking a look at one the cruising areas which Jim had shown me earlier and which was quite near the Pub. After all it wasn't long till closing time and the action might prove interesting. I finished my larger and strolled out and down the road towards the park. I walked down a path and was soon in an area of trees and big bushes. Such places always made me excited and the sight of one or two loiterers hanging about on the path under the trees soon showed me that Jim had indeed given me the right area.
I became one of the loiterers and waited to see what might happen and if there'd be any action. Sure enough, I realised that several guys had melted into the bushes and when I strolled up to where they had disappeared, I saw there was quite a well defined track off the main path. I walked slowly along this track; there under the various trees were a number of guys, standing, waiting.
Hey! What a find! I could hardly believe my eyes - and my luck - for one of the guys was the really sexy French guy who'd been in the Pub. At the sight of him my cock surged in my pants. It was worth a bit of a go.
Slowly I crept over towards the tree which he was leaning against. Would he see me and walk away? My heart was thumping with excitement. Nope, he didn't move. I eased a bit closer to him. He remained against his tree. I waited quite a while, full of indecision, wanting to creep closer to him but I feared rejection. God, he had looked so sexy in the Pub; those long down-covered legs, muscled thighs, that satin covered arse; I couldn't bear it if he just walked off now.
After a bit I eased over towards him, still he didn't move. Now I was almost within touching distance of him and I could smell his man-smell; do you know that sexy scent of a man who showered yesterday and who has grafted quite hard at something in the meanwhile and worked up a bit of a sweat?
Then imperceptibly he moved towards me! He peered at me in the dim light and then I saw recognition dawn in his eyes; he'd remembered me from the Pub. Now was the moment - either he'd fancied me a bit and would stay or he'd walk off. He stayed. I moved closer to him and waited. Nothing. Disappointment coursed through my body. Our faces were quite close now and I grinned at him. He grinned back! I leant towards him and carefully put out my hand to brush his arm. His grin turned to a smile. I very lightly stroked the hairs on his arm some more and looked up and down his gorgeous body. I longed to know whether the front of his satiny shorts had started to tent but the light was too dim to see. Dare I make another move?
He was trembling slightly and reminded me of a fearful young animal; too quick a move and he'd spring away from me. Still no reaction from him other than the warm smile. Now I extended my stroking, up his arm and across his wide chest. I felt my hand brush across a hard nipple.
And then he sighed. He moved his head forward and brushed my lips with his. I leaned into him and nuzzled his neck now breathing deeply his great man-smell. Our arms were around each other and our bodies pressed together.
Chests pressed together and two pairs of sexy shorts rubbing against each other. Yes, the front of his shorts certainly were tented.
"I am sorry that I did not speak wiz you dans l'auberge", he whispered into my ear, "but I am shy to speak in English."
"Doesn't matter", I whispered back, "what's your name?"
"Jean-Pierre", came his soft reply "let us go to some other place, because too many other people are here."
"I'm Andy" I whispered, "yea, great idea, do you know somewhere?"
He moved away from the tree and took my hand in his. Quietly and quickly he moved down the track, out onto the path and a bit further along onto another track surrounded by dense vegetation. I followed him deep into the thicket and the light was just enough for me to stare at his very sexy arse rippling and swaying inside the tight satin shorts. Oh how I longed to palm those shorts, rub my hand across the satiny material and feel the firm muscles respond to my wandering hand. Soon we were deep into the privacy of the bushes; no one else was around; we were in a small private grassy glade away from prying eyes. Jean-Pierre stopped, turned and reached for me.
Again our bodies clung to one another and now our crutches ground together as we both bucked our hips and forced our throbbing pricks to mash against each other. Jean-Pierre sighed and then moaned.
"Oh I wished to talk wiz you in ze Pub," he sighed into my ear "but I was so shy of speaking in ze English."
"No problem now," I replied as I nibbled the lobe then licked into his ear, then I moved my face over to his mouth and kissed him. He responded fiercely, French Kissing for real I thought and our tongues searched each other's mouths. Jean-Pierre gave me an intense look and I was really hot for him. Now my hands were feeling his shorts, rubbing his beautiful arse and feeling the muscles surging as his hips ground against me. I rubbed his strong buttocks and brushed my fingers along the valley made by his arse- crack. Jean-Pierre purred like a kitten. Now I felt round his flank and put my hand between our straining crutches. Through the thin material of his shorts I could feel his surging, thrusting prick; it was thick and hard and urgent and there was a damp patch there. Then Jean-Pierre leaned back against a tree and propped one leg onto a fallen trunk.
"Put up your hand in my pants and feel me" he said. The leg of his shorts was loose and I easily slid my hand up until it felt the stuffed pouch of his underpants. Oh yes! He was well hung and he gave a great sigh as my fingers brushed against his sex-filled pouch and then slid down the side of his underpants between his balls and his thigh.
"Oh it is so good" he moaned "let me do also to you."
I slid out my hand and put it up to my nose; oh what a heavenly smell, the musky, sexy crutch-odour that I love. I put one foot up onto the trunk and felt Jean-Pierre's hand creep up the leg of my shorts, fumble and feel the outside of my red underpants, gauging the length and thickness of my prick then his fingers groped up under my balls and along the strip of cotton between my thighs. It certainly felt great, much raunchier than getting felt up through an open fly.
After a long fumble his hand slid down my thigh and I saw him sniff it as I had sniffed mine.
"That was s-o-o-o v-e-e-e-ry s-s-s-sexy" Jean-Pierre.
"But we are wearing, what you say, underpants, n'est ce pas", he replied," such a feeling is much better wizout them."
So saying he stripped down his shorts, slipped out of his very kinky and very French satiny briefs and quickly pulled up his shorts again, hanging his briefs on a nearby twig. He looked at me inquiringly so I did the same. As I did so I managed to move my face near to his briefs and furtively, in the gloom, take a deep sniff. Oh Joy! What a really raunchy guy he was; I breathed in beautiful man-smells, musky, sweaty, crutch-smells. I remembered someone saying that Frenchmen don't change their underclothes as often as we Brits; it certainly seemed like it though the scent was not dirty, just very, very sexy. I hung my own knicks near his on the bush.
This time when my hand snaked up the leg of his shorts I felt the warm, satiny material on the back of my hand as my palm slid up his downy, muscular thigh; soon my fingers came into direct contact with his hot plump, fuzzy balls then his stiff, throbbing hard prick. I used my sensitive fingers as eyes, to slide and probe his most private parts. His prick was hard as iron and jumping slightly, yet the skin was soft; I could feel that he had a long foreskin and I worked it slowly up and down over the head and back. My hand was in a warm damp tent of sex and I was so excited that I nearly creamed in my own shorts. Jean-Pierre was obviously also appreciative of the groping that I was giving him for he arched his back and moaned more loudly as my fingers glided up and down his manhood.
Jean-Pierre struggled feebly as I continued to grope his sexy prick, lightly rubbing my fingers up and down its length. Each time I reached its tip I could feel the slippery wetness of his pre-cum.
"Oh pleez, now it is the turn of me" he sighed, so I eased my hand out of its moist French love-nest and in a flash Jean-Pierre's hand was sliding up the leg of my shorts. Rubbing softly up the inside of my thigh and then grazing lightly under my balls; he was so gentle and loving. As his hand continued its voyage of discovery he bent his head down to my fork and nuzzled his nose into my private parts. He obviously loved the odours coming from my groin because he whimpered with excitement. Meanwhile his hand slid around inside my shorts and in its turn explored my equipment, lightly brushing up and down my straining dick. I parted my legs to give Jean-Pierre greater scope and felt his fingers brush under my balls and feel up between my legs. His feather light touch was turning me on like hell.
"Oh yes," I moaned "you've found my trigger".
Jean-Pierre continued his soft gropings while he nuzzled right up between my legs savouring the sexy scent of my maleness.
Suddenly his quiet whimpers changed to a deep groan, his hand shot out of the leg of my shorts and clutched at the straining crotch of his own; he reached up and plunged his tongue into my mouth, graunched his hips into mine and I could feel his thick prick surging as he jetted his hot spunk inside his already slippery shorts. To the heavenly smell of his sweat and his musky maleness was added the even sexier smell of his cum.
"Oh you make me so hot", he grunted "please it is so necessary that I sleep in your bed this night. Where do you live?"
"Do you mean you want to come back to my Guesthouse?" I asked him, hardly daring to believe my luck.
"Oh yes pleez, it is what I would like to do very much. To be with you in ze bed for all ze night and make love wiz you many times. Pleez, oh pleez may we go?"
So saying, Jean-Pierre picked up his underpants off the bush on which it was hanging and, removing his spunk-soaked shorts, put them back on, and replaced the shorts. I did likewise.
We crept back down the track, out onto the path and started to walk through the park.
"Jean-Pierre, what about your cum-soaked shorts?" I asked him.
"What eez ze matter?" he queried.
In answer I rubbed my hand across the damp front of his creamed shorts and again felt his prick jump in anticipation.
"Of course, it might be a difficulty" he said and stopped. From his holdall he pulled out a pair of jeans and slipped his long legs into them. "There we are", he chuckled, "now all is decency for ze people of Bournemouth. Where are we going to?"
I led the way out of the park to where I had left my car and unlocked the door for Jean-Pierre to climb in. I went round, got in and drove off towards the hotel. In no time I felt Jean-Pierre's hand slide onto my thigh then inch its way up the leg of my shorts. This time it was my cock that surged upwards in expectation. His fingers continued to stroke seductively inside my shorts while his other hand slid upwards under my leather jacked and T-shirt to circle provocatively around my left nipple - which also hardened in reaction to the slinky attention it was getting.
We were soon at the guesthouse, out of the car and I was fumbling excitedly with the key to the front door. In we went and as we crossed the hall towards the stairs I caught sight of Jim through an open door. He grinned at me and gave a huge wink, as much as to say:
"I approve of your choice, Mate !"
Jean-Pierre climbed the stairs ahead of me and you can be sure I followed very close behind, and what a behind! Once again I was able to admire his gorgeous French rump and fantasise on what I was going to be able to do to it - several times that night.
Desperately turned on, as soon as we were inside the room, I put out my hand and rubbed the front of his jeans, feeling his twitching prick respond. Without any preliminaries, I undid his belt, slipped it out of his waistband and wacked it aross his arse a couple of times. Not too hard, just hard enough to make him wriggle. I undid the top button of his jeans and then hauled his jeans down, leaving his thin cotton underwear clinging to his buttocks, and then I ruubed my hand over his muscley buns a couple of times, I guess this really appealed because Jean-Pierre did not complain, nor did his cock which bulged obscenely inside his soft underwear.
"But now it is my turn to give the pleasure to you" whispered Jean-Pierre huskily. He rolled us over so that I was now underneath him. Then he sat up, pulled me into a sitting position too and peeled my T-shirt over my head, sniffed deeply under the arms and threw it on the floor. He then opened the top button of my jeans and slid the zipper part way down. Then he got down on his knees and put his face into the top of my underpants. He rubbed his face into my pants smelling my cock and balls, and soaking in the sweaty smells of my red bikini underwear. I could feel his face nuzzling my cock and balls; I could feel my bikini's getting damp and I reckoned that he could probably feel a wet spot in the front of his own pants as his pre-cum built up with the excitemnt.
Then he wriggled down so that his head was in my lap and continued to rub his face and nose around my crutch. After a short while he nipped my stomach gently with his teeth, then used them to slowly drag down the waist band of my shorts. Down and down he dragged them, his face passing over my rock-hard cock. He left the waist band just below my balls and worked up again to my navel, then down again kissing my stomach and crutch lightly. He was obviously enjoying breathing in my musky man-smell at the same time.
All this time he was whimpering excitedly, then his hand was inside the top of my shorts, playing with my balls. He played me like a musical instrument, he started to suck my cock, just licking the head at first then nibbling down and up the shaft. Several times my prick gave a violent jerk and I was sure he'd triggered me past the point of no return but then he'd withdraw and I'd feel the long hair of his head gliding across my stomach again. Each time he'd start again, licking my cock and balls and then I'd feel his exciting mouth slip over the head of my cock and slide down along it. Finally he made a final pass up and down my cock, his mouth suctioning like a tight arsehole - and I so nearly came. I gasped and grunted and Jean-Pierre realised that an explosion of spunk was nearly inevitable. He stopped everything. I clamped my muscles and managed to hold back the scalding, jetting spunk.
I swivelled round and reaching inside his shorts I found his cock and slowly pulled it out. It had obviously softened slightly but now it was beginning to rise and I quickly slipped it into my mouth (I love sucking a cock when its soft so that I can feel it swell in my mouth).
As Jean-Pierre's cock began to harden I slowly flicked my tongue around his cut cock-head and ran my tongue up and down his shaft. Nice little moans of gratitude escaped from his mouth and I took that as a cue to engulf his cock deep down my throat...I gagged a little but soon I was comfortable with his dick down my throat and I began to bob up and down on his whole dick which was about 7 inches hard and thick. As I made love to his cock with my mouth I began to taste the saltiness of his pre-cum which began to drip out of his cock-slit...as usual it was yummy...and an amazing turn-on. I began to speed up my sucking and I could feel him moving his hips and groin trying to get more of his cock into my mouth.
By now we were both so sexually excited that we were writhing around on the bed, Jean-Pierre leapt on top of me, swivelled around and mashed his crotch, his private male parts into my face, his own genitals were humping, thrusting at my face. His mouth suctioned onto my cock, lips sliding up and down the shaft, tongue swiling around my over-sensitive cock-head - I gave one huge, heavy thrusting shove of my groin and I C A M E . . . .
. . . . God how I came. My whole body shook and my cock pulsed like a giant pump; jet after jet of hot spunk jetted from my dick, landing on my face, my chest and after four or five spurts, on the thin material of my shorts. I shook my head from side to side and groaned loudly as the spasms shook my whole body and all the while the beautiful, sexy, hunky French wonder-guy looked down and smiled at the volcano he had unloosed. When I'd finished spunking, he rubbed his face on my chest and down, ever down, to lick and clean me from chest to groin.
"It was good for you, yes?" he whispered.
"It was good for me, yes" I grunted hoarsly.
And that was only the overture. Do you want to know about the following movements. The Allegro, the Slow Movement, the Finale. Perhaps one day I will get around to writing of our continued lovemaking in those slinky, satiny shorts and what we did to leave them stiff with starch the following day. Oh and don't forget Jim. At some stage during the night he must have used his pass key because suddenly we were a threesome, locked in love.
If you liked this story you could let me know by leaving a message on
andymacdon@hotmail.com