Bastille Day Ch. 08

"I'm sure. Hm-hmm! Three choices."

"Three?!"

"Or both together."

"Hmm! Hadn't thought of that. Hm-hmm! Can imagine why you did."

"Um-hmm! That should really make you recognize that you have a problem, ... and the solution."

"Don't brag."

"It really was Marge's suggestion."

"Go pee! Won't surprised them, and I can wait."

We chuckled, and I did, and then he did. It was still too early for dinner, so we went for a walk. I got the impression that we all were avoiding forming couples. That was emphasized when Anna and Marge walked ahead of us, then holding hands. Sans snorted and murmured:

"What do you do then?"

"Better that you ask one of them. Hm-hmm! Or let them show you."

"You don't really mean that."

"No, not without me, but last year we always found something to do, with Petra, with Willy and Ron."

"Where was I?! With them too?"

"Not me!"

Marge turned her head back and asked why I had spoken so loud.

"Just to emphasize that I didn't do anything with Ron and Willy."

"Hmm! We'd better not let you two talk by yourselves."

They joined us again, and Sans led us to areas of the areal that we hadn't seen before. At the end of a longer, straight path, he chuckled and said:

Late one evening I was taking a walk - nothing else to do alone. There was couple sitting on the bench, well, she was sitting on him."

We all chuckled. Anna murmured:

"Never did it outdoors."

"Something to look forward to," he replied, smiling at her. Marge and I just glanced at each other. I wondered if she also was recalling that Anna had admitted that the four of them had been at the far end of the beach at Cap d'Agde. Had Anna forgotten, or did she want to make a suggestion?

When we returned, it was time for dinner. Sans sat with us, of course, and we told more about ourselves than he already knew. He mentioned that he had studied at INA in Paris and gone on to a career in government, ready for retirement in a year or two. We had to ask what INA was.

"An agricultural college - the vineyards, you know," he replied.

Since he had already intimated that he couldn't be seen at the flash mob, we understood that he was understating his career and, of course, didn't ask further. Perhaps he also thought of that, changing the subject and telling that the flash mob was gaining participants from others at the resort, then telling that he was hoping the resort would support the project by letting us use its small bus.

We finished our meal without reference to our discussion before dinner, but it must have been in all our minds as we left the restaurant in silence. Outside the building, Sans remarked:

"I guess I should collect my bag and the bottles - oh, and the corkscrew. A little funny having no pockets."

We nodded with a chuckle, and he accompanied us. I wished that we had a bottle of wine to allow suggesting we continue the evening together. Then I wondered if he was stalling our separating, wondering - hoping? - we would somehow return to our discussion. It had been obvious that he had understood what Marge and Anna were suggesting, also that he was interested, only sidestepping a direct answer that would have to be a choice between the two.

We continued to our place in silence, where he put the bottles back in the bag. I noticed that he still hadn't picked up his corkscrew, when he looked around at us and said:

"Thank you for your hospitality."

"And thank you for the fine wine," I replied.

"My pleasure, especially with such good company. ... Oh, my corkscrew; I almost forgot it again."

Anna handed it to him with a smile, almost a smirk. I snorted and said:

"I'm sure one of us would have brought it to you."

"Where are you staying?" Marge asked with a smile like Anna's.

He smiled the same way, and so did I. He snorted and told us where, then adding:

"Maybe I should forget it."

"If you want to," Anna replied, this time really smirking - also with tight nipples.

"I don't think you need to," I remarked, giving him a wink.

We all suppressed a chuckle. He nodded with a smile and left and we sat down.

How did I know that the others had suppressed a chuckle? A few moments after I closed the door, we all really did chuckle, grinning at each other with nods. Marge said:

"I almost had to laugh."

"Me too," Anna agreed, then repeating his instructions of where he was staying.

"Don't run after him," I joked.

Her nipples popped out again. I smirked and added: "Yet!"

She snorted with a slight smirk and replied:

"I just wanted to make sure we got it right, ... for Marge."

"For me?" she asked with feigned surprise, but her nipples had also popped out.

"For one of you, but I'm not going to decide.

"Marge," Anna replied in a tone that suggested that she wanted to settle the question.

"But you like older men, ... and said that you wanted to know about Latin lovers."

"I asked if you had ever slept with a French man."

"Why me always, having to go to your room last year, so you and Petra could learn about ... a not so old man?"

"Thank you! But it didn't sound like it was a great sacrifice, not from what Ron and Willy told."

Marge nodded with a smirking grin, but looked at Anna and replied:

"But it was you, really, who wanted to sleep with a French man, an older one thereto. Can say that, since he isn't here."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," I remarked with a grin, adding: unless you disappoint him and let him think that you think he is too old."

"Not me!" Anna remarked, glancing at Marge and asking: "Do you?"

She shook her head with a grin. I snorted and said:

"I thought women argued or fought about which one could have a man, not about wanting the other one to."

We all laughed. Anna with a stern expression - as stern a one as a naked young woman could muster after several glasses of wine - said firmly: "Marge," then grinned and added: "first!"

We all laughed again. Marge gave a resigned sounding sigh, smiling slightly, before she murmured: "This will be the first time I did this because two other people wanted me to."

"Wrong," I countered: you did for Anna and Petra."

She grinned and replied:

"Wrong again, for you too - three persons."

"Okay," I agreed: "three, this time too, including Sans."

"Four!" Anna corrected me with broad smirk, looking at Marge, adding:

"You want to, too; almost said as much before dinner."

Marge gave herself beaten with a nod and grin, remarking:

"Just didn't want to admit it, in case Anna wanted to more."

"Next time," she replied with a grin.

We all snickered. Marge asked: "Where was his place?"

Anna repeated what he had said. Marge nodded and asked: "Already, now?"

I smirked and replied: "Before he opens another bottle to drown his aroused expectations - or does worse!

She gave me a smile and got up and went to the bathroom. Anna and I grinned at each other. Of course, we were going to enjoy each other's company, but our grins were more about our having found a solution for Sans problem. Marge returned, smiling wryly. I escorted her to the door. With a slight slap on her ass, I said:

"Good night, and remember, he recalled that you look like Ingres' painting: "The Source." I think so too."

She gave me a smile, and I closed the door, turning back to Anna, who nodded with another grin.

It was really too early to go to bed, but it is never too early to get in bed with a young naked woman. We opened the double bed and lay down, her head on my shoulder, her hand instinctively finding my cock and balls; not to arouse me, just because it was the natural thing for her to do.

We chuckled and exchanged thoughts about about what Marge could be doing: maybe now knocking at his door, and then speculating about what they would do. Anna thought that she would want to start by sucking his cock. I agreed, asking her if she thought he would just let her, or if he would want to lick her pussy first. She replied that if he were like her father, he would prefer to just enjoy what we thought she would do. When I agreed, she chuckled and fondled my balls, replying:

"I thought so."

That somewhat upset our conversation, sentences reduced to a few word:

"Lick her afterwards"

"Not let her finish, want to ... you know."

"Hope not, for her."

"Hmm! You would."

"You too!"

"Um-hmm, but I'm not him."

"Hm-hmm! I don't mind - tonight!"

"My good luck."

"But, of course, they would, whether she does or doesn't."

"Does? Right now?"

"Hope so. I would."

"Hmm! And tell him to let you?"

"Good idea!"

"Thought so."

"Hm-hmm! Like I want to now."

Her hand slid up and fondled my cock. She chuckled as it responded. I teased her:

"And if I don't want to?"

"Do! Otherwise you would have to afterwards, and then we want to do it again, but we already did that this afternoon."

"We still could again."

She was already moving around. She snickered throatily and replied:

"I want to do it so good for you - and me - that you don't want to."

"Oh, then I'd better try to make you feel the same way."

"I sure hope so!"

My cock was in her mouth before she had her hips around so that I could bury my face between her thighs, this time lying on our sides. After initialing arousing each other, despite our eager words, we slowed down, rather like we had in the afternoon. We took turns making it a little more arousing for each, then chuckling and stopping: tempting, teasing each other in the most pleasurable way. Anticipation is ninety percent of enjoyment.

Our hands roamed all over each other's body, wherever we could reach. It was delightful to be so intimate, touching each other as familiarly as though we were touching ourselves. Mine found her breasts and played with her nipples in response to her arousing me better for a few moments. A couple of times, she relinquished my cock and sucked one of my balls, and I tongued her asshole, then returning to arouse her clitoris again. It was very arousingly delightful. I recalled her telling that she had sat on her father's cock for half an hour. How long would we continue?

As often happens when one has that thought, as pleasurable as what one is doing is - not just sex - the thought seems to precipitate the end. Maybe she hadn't had the same thought, just couldn't wait any longer to taste me. It was her turn to arouse me. She moaned a little louder and sucked my cock deeper in her mouth. I took the hint and didn't wait for my turn. As I began to arouse her, she nodded, and I nodded, and we both began to do all we could.

With twitching hips and deep, pulsing moans, we both came: my semen spurting deep in her mouth. Her orgasm was even wetter and messier, but I loved it, lapping up as much of her pussy juice as I could. I rolled on my back, gasping and moaning.

She lay there with my cock still in her mouth, gasping cool air in passed it and moaning with long sighs. I reached down and fondled her breast. She nodded with another moan. When her gasps subsided, she licked and gently sucked my wilting cock. I felt her tongue move the softening head of my cock. Then she let it slip from between her lips and also rolled back. We lay there with our heads on each other's thigh. My eyelids were wet with her juice. I blinked them open, discovering that it was now darker in the room, although in July the sun still set quite late by Summer Time.

Her hand found mine on her breast and she sighed again, nodding on my thigh. I squeezed with a nod. She nodded again and murmured:

"God, that was good! Better than I could imagine. We sure do it good."

"Um-hmm! Very!"

"Um-hmm, for me, too."

She chuckled and added:

"I wanted to kiss you and let you taste it too, but too late now; I can hardly taste it."

"I would have wanted to."

"Your fault, making me have to just lie there to recover."

"Like I wanted."

"Like I wanted you to. Hm-hmm! I wonder what they are doing, or have done."

"Nothing better, but I hope just as good."

"Me too."

We were silent for a few moments. Then she chuckled and said:

"Have to go to the bathroom; can't wait any longer."

She sat up and grinned down at me in the gloom and licked her lips. I followed her to the bathroom and turned on the light, having to blink a couple of times before I could look at her.

Seeing her sitting on the toilet and hearing her pee was too familiar to let me see her with new eyes, like I had in the afternoon, but still very attractive, letting me recall Sans' remark about Aphrodite. She smiled up at me with a snort and reached out and tapped my cock, still long enough to swing. We both chuckled. She got up without wiping, reaching for a washcloth. While she washed, I used the toilet. I flushed, and she finished washing her pussy, turning to me with a smile and handing me the washcloth. While I washed my face and cock and balls, she dried herself, then also handing me the towel. She stood in the doorway while I used it.

"He was right that you both could look like Aphrodite," I said with a grin.

"Oh, just flattering."

"No. Pose for me. Wish I had an internet connection and could compare your figure with those of the many statues and paintings."

"Now you are flattering."

"No. Pose."

She smiled and assumed the pose of Aphrodite with her arm in front of her breasts and her other hand down before her pussy, smirking at me.

"Just like that; I am right. Another one."

"They don't have arms."

She put her arms behind her back with a grin. What a delightful sight, a nude young woman standing there, enjoying letting me look at her. I grinned back and said: "nipples."

We both chuckled when they responded, making my view even better. Then I remembered Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" - with better detail than I expected - and remarked:

"Botticelli's Venus had arms."

"Um-hmm, but she was blond."

"And didn't have as nice breasts as yours."

Anna nodded with smile and jiggled her breasts with her hands for me. I nodded with another grin, responding:

"She didn't do that. Just hold one hand here, ..." I held mine between my breasts: "... and the other one down below."

She smiled and did so. I corrected her pose:

"Lower, her long blond hair covered that, and knees together, tilting your hips."

She chuckled, following my instructions, nodding and grinning, which wasn't the expression of Botticelli's Venus, but more enticingly attractive. She wasn't quite as slender, but the pose was very good, I thought, wishing I could capture it with photo.

She relaxed with a snicker and said:

"Now you: Mars, ..." I sucked in my stomach. She shook her head with a smirk, adding:

"Hercules."

"Even worse," I flexed my meager bicep.

"Neptune?"

"No trident. Probably a satyr."

"Hm-hmm! Maybe. Oh, definitely!"

We both laughed. I tried to make a lecherous expression - not difficult when looking at her. She grinned and then tried to look shocked, covering her nipples and pussy in a reflex that was as good as any pose. I nodded, smiling again and said:

"I think satyrs only got to leer at nymphs, ... well, maybe not just leer."

"Hm-hmm! I hope not, for their sake. Does that make me a nymph? Sounds better than being a goddess or half-goddess."

"You are! Even if I think you could look like one."

I instinctively held out my arms, and we embraced and kissed, both chuckling - before our kiss got better. It was more emotional than I thought it should be. How could it not be after all we had done with each other, including being able to have such a delightful conversation? And one doesn't want to stop kissing a young would-be-nymph who was pressing her Aphrodite-like body against one.

I was relieved when she retrieved her tongue with a soft "um-hmm," then murmuring:

"Just a nymph and satyr."

"Um-hmm," I agreed, liking that she had disarmed the emotional content that she had apparently also felt - but not without liking that she had also felt it.

I turned off the light in the bathroom and we went to bed. When I curled up behind her, my arm around her, she found my hand and drew it up on her breast. We said good night and fell asleep.

We didn't sleep like that the whole night, but towards morning we were again, and my cock knew it, and she was aware of where it was. Before I was, I was awakened by a soft "um-hmm" and felt fingers finding my cock. It's not nice to admit that I didn't immediately know whose fingers, but I knew what they were doing, pressing it up in a nice warm place, and then with a rock of her - whose ever - hips, it was in an even nicer and warmer place!

When she moaned softly, I was awake enough to remember that I was sleeping with Anna, chagrined that I hadn't known before. "Faithless lover," I thought; that I could have forgotten. Just a nymph and satyr?

"Mmmm! The nicest way to wake up," she murmured, and moved her shoulders away from me so that she could roll them back. It was dawning. She turned her head back and murmured:

"Good morning. Must be early; just getting lighter."

"Good morning. Very much the nicest way to wake up, ... to be awakened."

"You weren't already?"

"Not quite."

"Hm-hmm! Was I dreaming about a satyr? It felt like it."

"Hm-hmm! No, just me."

"Even better, since satyrs don't really exist."

"Hmm! Hope you aren't disappointed."

"Hm-hmm! They have hairy goats' legs. You don't."

Her hand had slid back and rubbed my thigh. I rubbed hers and replied:

"Nymphs don't. All the ones I have seen only have hair on their heads."

My hand slid down over her thigh to where she would have had hair. She chuckled with a nod and remarked:

"Maybe I am just a nymph."

She rocked her hips; just in time, before my cock forgot where it was. It didn't. My fingers explored a little further and she nodded, remarking:

"I kind of thought that satyrs were less gentle."

"Hmm, an older satyr.

"And that nymphs were just passive."

"Hm-hmm! Just a Greek myth."

"That's good. Don't let it slip out."

We both chuckled and moved so that she could also roll her hips back. It didn't slip out, and I moved so that it could slip deeper in her nymph's pussy. A "nymphomaniac's? No! Just the very nice, tight pussy of real live young woman in the twenty-first century. I held her and moved again, curling my hips under her thigh behind hers and drawing mine up to hold her other thigh between them. She nodded with a pleased-sounding "Um-hmmm!" and rocked her hips.

Did we know how to fuck?! She didn't like that word, but she sure knew how to. My fingers explored further, rubbing over the top of her slit, over the firm place that slid back and forth under my fingers. She moaned, and our hips rocked. I opened my eyes and saw her aroused nipples in the now lighter room. I curled my head down and sucked the near one. She moaned in approval, and her hand found her other breast.

Has anyone ever considered what a feat of coordination it is simultaneously to fuck and to rub a clitoris, while sucking a nipple? Patting one's belly and rubbing one's hair should be cinch in comparison. But it isn't! Not with an aroused vagina clutching one's cock; and twitching hips urging one's fingers to rub; and aroused moans responding to the almost painful things one is doing to a nipple.

Maybe I was a satyr! She certainly wasn't a passive nymph - if they ever were passive. In the pictures I could remember, they just looked like they didn't want to admit it. But none of the pictures showed them getting it. But Anna - my nymph - was! And I was too!

It's indecent, unfair, to try to tell how good it was. Besides, I have forgotten that I didn't want to dwell on the erotic experiences that made these trips so good. But I can't.

My throbbing cock exploded in the pulsing grips of her vagina, as her hot pussy juice flooded, warm on my hair and and on my tight sack, as I grunted, and her body shook, as she whimpered.