Chris and Nigel 4

The Trip to France

Chris and Nigel - Chapter 4

Understanding and More Understanding

This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual acts between the characters in it. Although the characters are young teenagers, nothing written here should be taken as approval of or encouragement for sexual liaisons between people where such liaisons are either illegal, or objectionable for moral reasons. Although this story does not include safe sex practices, it is everyone's own responsibility to themselves and to each other to engage only in PROTECTED SEX. It is a story. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Nothing represented here is based on any fact known to the author.

The story is copyright 1999 by "Its Only Me from Across the Sea". If you copy the story, please leave the credits, and the web address of http://gay.sexhound.net/iomfats/ present, and also the email address of its_onlyme@hotmail.com. I'd love to receive feedback.

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It wasn't as simple as I thought I was going to lie there, unmoving, just snuggling there, close as close could be. For one thing I was still hugely excited, and for another, my cock was between his thighs, with the tip nuzzling his ballsack. And Nigel was wriggling a little as he dozed. Those wriggles were bad enough, but we still had the light on in the room, and I was looking at the back of his neck, at his shoulders, at all of him that was in reach, at his softly defined muscles, and it aroused me more.

I didn't mean to do anything more, but he gave an extra wriggle, and gripped my cock still harder. So I wriggled just a little bit too, and the most thrilling sensations started to grow their way from the tip, right up the shaft, and into my soul. And I found that, ever so slowly, ever so gently, I was moving the tip of my cock a touch backwards and a touch forwards. And Nigel wriggled again, sort of opening his buttocks and clamping my cock harder at the same time. And the scent of him overcame me. It's hard to describe it: sweat, mixed with sex, mixed with the salt in his hair, mixed with joy, and with boy. It was intoxicating, and I was drunk on it.

As I moved, so slowly, so gently, I moved my hands down to his bum, and found how wet and slick he was from my cock, and I moved gently so that the very tip of my cock was just lightly resting on his beautiful anus. And he wriggled a little more, in his doze, and just slightly pressed onto me. I nearly pushed forward, all in a rush, but I held back. I didn't want to hurt him. I placed the tip of my foreskin right at the centre, and gently eased towards him, fraction by fraction, feeling the head slip out and so slowly inside him, and was rewarded by a slight moan of sleepy pleasure from my Nigel. The first time it had hurt him, like it had hurt me, but tonight, sucking him and finger fucking him, his muscles had relaxed, and I was inside him without seeming to wake him, and it felt good. There's no way of describing the heat, the grip, yet the slipperiness. The band of pure sex moving up and down the shaft of my cock. The feelings of indescribably powerful lust and love mounted as I impaled my lover so gently, and I reached round to his cock, so recently emptied, to find it pulsating with life, and ready for action all over again. As I held it in my hand, as I stroked it, gripping it tightly, he came to life. If he hadn't been awake before, he was now, because he grunted "harder", and pushed back onto my cock and gripped it as hard as he could. And suddenly he was all tense, and blasting cum into my hand, onto the bedclothes, and the waves of tension and his muscles on my cock made me push so hard into him and the pumping, pulsing, raging orgasm blasted out of me, through my body, up the shaft, through the gripping muscles, and deep into his bowels. It was so powerful that I had to bury my mouth in his neck to muffle the scream of pleasure that was trying to escape from me.

There we were, all mixed up with sweat and cum, tied up in the bedsheet, somehow face to face, and out of breath, and kissing and trying to breath, and both holding each other so tightly, trying to become one body, one mind. "I want to spend my life with you, Chris. I need you so much."

How he had found the space to speak, I have no idea, but the sound came into my head, or was it the thought? As an answer, I kissed him again, and again. And when I could breath again, I declared my love to him. "I need you, too," I whispered into his ear. "I never knew love was like this. I just thought... well I don't know what I thought. There's no-one like you. You're so strong, and beautiful, and you're all I ever wanted. And I don't even know anything about you, except that I love you."

Somewhere in mid-kiss we fell asleep, still all tangled together, still all sticky with love, still glowing inside. Two teenage boys on the verge of the biggest adventure of their lives: Love. I couldn't believe how quickly I had been hit by it. It seemed like a lifetime ago that I was just a kid, swept along by kid's things. Was it only since we arrived in France? Only two nights ago, or was it three, that Nigel asked me for kissing lessons? Now I had emotions on tap that I had never ever had before. And I had a responsibility. I was responsible for someone else for the first time in my life: responsible for his happiness. It was a huge, huge new experience.

Of course, I wasn't thinking all this then. It all dawned on me during the next morning. I must have been looking rather odd - I couldn't seem to get this huge grin off my face. Carol noticed at once at breakfast. "I suppose you are looking so pleased because you got away without being punished yesterday?" she half asked me.

You know those questions which you just shouldn't answer? This was one of them. I knew better than to get drawn into an argument I couldn't win. "I'm sorry you got that essay to write. Do you need any help with it?"

"No. I daren't even be seen talking to you away from the 'public' areas, or Miss Coker will say something beastly to my parents."

"What are we all doing today?"

"Tour of the harbour this morning, barbecue lunch, and free afternoon on the beach."

"Tour of the harbour?"

Nigel had arrived, still all tousled, sleepy, smiling - no grinning from ear to ear. We must have looked like Dopey and Sleepy. Of course, last night, I felt Dopey, and Dopey felt... Oh never mind, it wasn't that funny anyway. "Yeah, we get to walk in the sun, all together in a group, and someone described the harbour to us in French. We then get to write an essay in French about what we have seen and remembered. That's what it says on the notice," he said. "Of course, the notice is much more exciting about it all, but I've translated it from the original 'notice-ese' into English."

And, as he said it, he was standing very close to me. Well, so close that you couldn't have got a razor blade between us. I thought he was going to kiss me, right there, in the dining hall, in front of everyone, in front of Carol. I almost didn't care if he did. I almost wanted him to do it, to declare us to the world. Almost, but not quite. But I didn't move away until I went to get my breakfast.

While I was getting a glass of juice, and a croissant, and some cheese - very odd breakfast, I wonder if it is typically French, I thought - Nigel sat down opposite Carol, and was obviously talking to her, and she to him. Whatever it was that they were talking about, it seemed to cheer her up. When I got back Nigel went to get his own breakfast, and Carol was almost purring contentedly.

"What are you two up to?" I asked, casually, to no-one in particular, but obviously really asking Carol.

"Oh, nothing. Nigel was just cheering me up." she smiled at me as she spoke. "I like him, he's cute."

"He is?" I didn't think he was 'cute', I thought he was the most wonderful, the most beautiful, gorgeous boy that had ever existed, and he was mine, and I was his. "Are you sure?"

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to notice, Chris. Nigel's a boy, and I like boys."

So do I, I thought. Well, I like this boy. I love this boy. I've never even looked at another boy, not in that way, anyway. "Hey, I like boys, too," I laughed. "I just never thought about sleeping with them!" That was true enough. I have mates who are boys, and I like them. And I never thought about sleeping with them, well, not until Nigel, and come to that not anyone other than Nigel. Boys are not what I want.

"Christopher Jenkins!" Carol was almost stamping her foot. "I do not want to sleep with boys."

Too bad for you, I thought. Perhaps if you had, I wouldn't be sleeping with Nigel. It wasn't a very charitable thought, and I regretted it as soon as it passed through my head, but it was there, and it kept nagging me over the next few hours, just every so often.

"So you keep telling me," I laughed, trying to shrug it off.

"Well, I think he's cute, anyway," she said, with finality.

"OK, I concede that he's really good looking, but I hadn't really noticed until you mentioned it." I knew better than to argue with Carol. I was getting a bit perturbed by the way this conversation was going. Actually I didn't know where the conversation was going, but I was getting out of my depth. And Carol? She had a dreamy expression on her face, watching Nigel walk back, balancing a glass of orange juice, a plate with a pair of croissants, a plate of ham, and a bowl of mixed fruit, all one on top of the other. And I felt jealous.

And I remembered how awkward Nigel had looked when I was kissing Carol and Miss Coker stopped us, and I started to feel, well strange. 'Get a grip,' I thought. 'you're being silly. If Nigel told you, no instructed you, to carry on as normal with Carol, it makes perfect sense that whatever is going on is going on.' So I put the feeling aside. Well almost aside.

"Right, you two," said Nigel, "who is going to come round the harbour with me, and who's coming to the beach this afternoon?"

"I can come on the tour," said Carol, "but I can't come to the beach with you if Chris comes too. I can't go anywhere with even half alone Chris. Miss Coker will tell my Dad, and he'll slaughter me. I'll be grounded for ever."

"Let's all hang out together on the tour, then work out what to do this afternoon during the barbecue."

"Good idea, Chris," she said.

So that's what we did. I've never seen so many millions of pounds all in the same place before. Huge yachts, huger yachts, yachts that were so huge you needed oxygen just to climb aboard, one where the owner walked up to it, pressed an hidden button, and went aboard through a panel which closed invisibly behind him. And our guide droned on endlessly about this boat, that harbour wall, and all sorts of other stuff that was mind numbingly interesting. It was hot, tiring, and boring. Or it would have been boring if I hadn't been with two beautiful friends. And if there hadn't been a beautiful, olive skinned lad of about 13 to catch my eye on one of the fishing boats.

'Chris,' I told myself sternly, 'a week ago you didn't know what to do with a boy. You don't look at boys, you keep your mind on your lover, and on your, your, well what was Carol? Your girlfriend. Even if that kid has a lovely body and a cute face, you belong to Nigel.' And since I was behind Nigel, and since there was no-one behind me, I gave his beautiful bum a squeeze as I overtook him. And he brushed me with his hand as I passed. "How are we going to sort this afternoon out?" I asked him.

"Let's take it as it comes. I have no idea what to do."

"I don't want to seem selfish by being with you this afternoon," I said, " and I'm not sure I want to leave you alone with Carol. She told me that you were 'cute' at breakfast."

"And do you think I'm cute?"

"Shh!"

"Do you?"

"No"

"No?" And he pinched me, right on the bum.

I wrestled him a bit, to stop him. "No, not cute. Beautiful, handsome, pretty, sexy, gorgeous, fantastic, wonderful, mine," I managed to whisper into his ear as I play-fought him, "mine!"

"Not cute, then?"

"Definitely not cute."

"Oh, well. OK, not cute."

So I let him go. Not that we'd settled anything, but who cares? Young, carefree, immortal, and in love. Who cares?

We'd ended up at the barbecue, amidst a group of kids, queuing for burgers. Since the BSE scare there were lamburgers, not hamburgers, chicken legs, veggieburgers, sausages, baguettes - well it makes a change from burger buns - and salad. I'm good at barbecues. I can out eat almost anyone. And I did. And out cola'd them, too.

My guts solved the problem of who was to go where and with whom. The hot sun of the morning, plus the colossal binge at lunchtime conspired together to make me feel really bad as we were on our way back to the school to get our stuff. I had to go to see the matron, and she sent me to lie down in my room. Mind you, she told me it was my own fault. Don't adults just love telling you the obvious? Carol and Nigel both came in to see if I was all right, each separately, and each gave me a kiss on the forehead, and stroked my hair. The I tried to get some sleep, and I guess I must have done so, because I was woken up by Carol sneaking in to see me.

"Hi, Chris, how are you feeling?"

"Bit better," I mumbled, sleepily. "Thanks for coming to see me."

"I just sneaked in. Nigel's looking out for Coker."

"Did you have a good time on the beach?"

"Mmm," dreamily.

"Mmm?"

"Well, we messed about. The sand's no good for sandcastles or anything, because the Med has no real tide so it doesn't get wet and firm, but we swam and stuff."

"Who was we?"

"Me, Nigel, and another girl, oh and another guy, too."

"Who?"

"No-one who matters. They spent most of the afternoon chasing after each other, and snogging."

"And you guys?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you said Nigel was cute, earlier."

"And so he is, but I was just saying. I didn't mean anything by it. I do believe you're the teeniest bit jealous!"

If only you knew, I thought. If only you knew. "Well, perhaps a bit." But who was I jealous of?

"Well, just stop it." And she sneaked back out of the room.

Nigel poked his head round the door. "Carol says you're OK?"

"Come in and kiss me"

"There are people about."

"Yes, about, but not in here."

The rest of my lover came round the door, all glowing from sun, wearing shorts cut so short, but with wide legs, that the almost showed the whole of his wonderful, wonderful body to the world. And he sat on the edge of the bed, and leant forward and kissed me, softly, brushing my forehead with his lips, placing his lips on mine, and melting me with his eyes. My hand fell onto his thigh, between his legs, and stroked upwards inside the leg of his shorts, and towards the bulge of his cock.

"You'll wear it out!" Nigel giggled and wriggled.

"Let me be the judge of that. I want you. Now!

"Just a minute." And he put the back of the chair against the door, jamming it under the handle, then slipped out of his shorts, and padded over back to the bed, and rested his perfect balls on the palm of my hand, with his velvet smooth cock pointing at my mouth, just waiting to be kissed.

It's hard to ignore a beautiful cock waving at your mouth, and I couldn't ignore it for an instant. I took my right hand, the one without that beautiful ballsack, and caressed the tip. I peeled back his foreskin, and dipped my index finger into the drop of precum that was just peeping out of the slit, and painted his cockhead with it. Round and round, stroking, painting, going back to the slit for more, and painting, all the while gently massaging first his left then his right ball, just carefully through the sack. "Kiss it"

"Not yet."

I moved my fingers round the shaft, and gripped the shaft skin, moving it up to re-cover the head with that paper-smooth foreskin, then retracted it, peeling his head again, and again, and finally, just when he was about to burst, took his cockhead gently between my lips, and sucked and licked so hard I wondered if I would deflate him. And I brought him to the brink, and then

just

stopped.

"Wha... but... you've..."

"Stopped?"

"Er, yeah, stopped..."

"Yep"

"But?"

"Come here, I want more than that. That's why I've stopped."

"Don't leave me like this, it's going to burst, but it won't"

"Beautiful boy, come here and kiss me and then take your clothes off, and then take my clothes off. I have something in mind that I think you'll like"

"That I'll like?" Nigel asked, coyly.

"Just do what I say, and I'll..." but before I could finish what I was saying my mouth was full of tongue, and it wasn't mine!

That angelic face conceals some of the wickedest thoughts and downright evil ways of touching you and the smiliest eyes and I nearly lost my resolve and so nearly took him in my hand again. But I didn't. When he broke for air, I said "Take your clothes off."

There he was, standing, facing me, his cock pointing up at me, taking hold of the bottom of his tee-shirt with his arms crossing his chest, raising the shirt showing off his newly enhanced tan line, pulling the shirt over his head, tousling his hair, and smiling when he was all revealed except for his socks covering his feet, and his trainers covering his socks.

"Turn round, and take off your trainers. Slowly" . "Turn round?"

"And do it slowly"

And he turned away from me, showing the curve of is beautiful buttocks, his white tan line, his straight, firm back, his shoulders growing wider, his tight little waist, the long, long legs, and, as he bent over, as he bent from the waist, as he turned his toes tantalisingly towards each other a glimpse, then a view, a panorama of his gorgeous, his wonderful, secret place, his tight, ridged, rosebud, the second best place on his beautiful body. Skin subtly different colour from his bum, and just a hint of pink in the centre as it twitched, just a little, twitched just as mine was twitching while I was watching him. And I wanted him, but not that way, yet. He turned me on. My cock was almost bursting free of my trousers.

"Do you see anything you like?" he asked. Anything at all, and he spread his legs to show his beautiful ballsack, there between them, and looked at me upside down from between his calves.

"Everything. Come here and take my clothes off."

"Only if you kiss it."

"Gross"

"Gross or not, only if you kiss it."

But it wasn't gross. It was Nigel, and it smelt quite unlike I'd expected, sort of musty, and the tip of my tongue caught the taste, and I kissed it, and licked it, and I loved it. So did he. It wasn't possible to breath as he pushed back hard into my face, and I broke. "Now take my clothes off."

Tug

"Gently!!" he was trying to heave me out of my clothes, and it was hurting

"Naked now," he panted.

"Now, sit on the bed, between my legs, facing me."

He sat, his cock waving in the air, looking so beautiful, so big, so hot, so... so 'Nigel', and I put my legs astride him, on top of his, and eased down the bed towards him. "I want you inside me, and I want to watch. I want that wonderful cock of your in me, and I want to see it go in, and I want to watch it slide in and out. And I want to watch your face as you fuck me, and I want to watch your face as you cum"

Did he need telling twice! First his finger with the juice from my cock, then the juice from his, then, oh then he put the tip of his wonderful cock against my crack, and pushed forwards, and it hurt again, but just for a moment, and he held my cock out of the way, and smiled as he inched inside me, and touched that wonderful, that excruciating place deep inside me. "Can you see?"

"Oh, yes, yes, yes! I love you."

"Keep watching. Don't close your eyes." And he started to pound up and down on my cock shaft with his hand, and slide in and out with his cock. "If you want to watch, you have to pay the price!"

"Uhhh!" I squealed, "uhhh?"

"I'm going to make you cum, and then I'm going to fuck you slowly until I do, too. And you're going to watch, or I'm going to stop!"

So I watched his boyhood slide gently in and out of me, and felt his hand make me squirm, impaled on his huge, hot cock, and felt my balls lift, and my back arch, and my ass grip his cock tightly, and suddenly just as he hit that secret place again, and again, felt such a powerful pulsing that I came, the first shot hitting his nose, the second his chest, the third just below his navel, and then dribbled buckets of creamy juice all over him. ""Keep your eyes open!"

And he carried on, with almost no break in his soft rhythm, driving in and out, hitting my prostate, causing little shocks to run through me. It was torture. Fabulous torture. I needed to stop, he didn't stop. I was biting my lips together to stop myself screaming with pleasure, it was so exquisite. And his cock still thrust in and out, while I watched it and his face and the cum starting to dribble down, and then he tensed, tensed, and thrust so far inside that I though he would reach my teeth, and his beautiful face contorted and I felt him cum hot and deep inside me, and heard him whimper that little whimper he made when he came, felt him pulse, felt his body tighten and relax, and watched his face relax into a gentle smile.

I leant forward and kissed him, and we promptly fell of the bed. "Idiot," he said. "Beautiful idiot. I'm in love with an idiot."

"Does that mean an idiot's in love with you?"

"Yep."

"Good."

"Are you ready to go eat?"

"Well, not eat, perhaps, but I think we need to show our faces a bit. But how do we get cleaned up?"

So I licked him clean from my cum, and we kissed, dressed while kissing, and went to the dining hall. Where we met Miss Coker. Well not 'met' exactly, but certainly saw her, and she was being angry with Carol. And Carol wasn't enjoying it.

When the Coker lecture had finished, Carol came over. "Hi Chris, you look better. Well much better, sort of glowing!"

"I, well, er, I, er"

But that will have to wait until I tell you more.