Bastille Day Ch. 11

"So we get together in France each year, still trying to find out."

We all chuckled, very softly, like gentlefolk would. The first woman/lady whispered:

"Sometimes we cheat, back home."

"Now that our children are grown," the other added.

One of the men snorted and remarked - softly, of course:

"Whose children?"

"Shhhh!" both woman responded, looking very embarrassed.

I was almost as flustered as they were by his words. Sans showed immediate aplomb, remarking:

"A husband never knows, but I am sure you all like them."

The women looked relieved, nodding, exchanging smiles. One murmured:

"We do, ... just hope no one else knows why."

The other man also nodded, then smiling and murmuring:

"Good thing that we live in different parts of the country, that no one knows ..., well, which one looks like my son."

"I don't mind," the other replied - softly, of course - adding:

"Wish my daughter looked more like your wife."

It took a moment before I recognized the possibilities: was "his" daughter that of the other's wife; did he just think so, wish she were; or was it a compliment, that the other woman had been more attractive than he thought his daughter was - than his wife had once been?

It was also a moment before anyone else responded, a couple more. Then the second woman remarked:

"That's why we still get together; it doesn't matter."

The men and her friend nodded. The more outspoken man remarked softly:

"It really doesn't matter."

He smirked slightly, glancing at them, and added:

"Still fun trying."

The women looked embarrassed again - with aroused nipples on their middle-aged breasts. His friend nodded emphatically with a grin. That didn't help the women's embarrassment. Sans came to their rescue again, remarking:

"Wish I weren't a widower and had friends like you."

The women looked a little relieved, maybe apologetic at his admission that he was a widower. One of the men remarked, however:

"But we've seen you both with those two nice young women."

His wife snorted and remarked:

"Stop looking."

Sans smiled with a nod and replied:

"Can't blame him. My luck that I could join them."

"Theirs and mine, too. We just didn't meet so soon," I added.

We all nodded with smiles and left the subject, Sans and I answering their questions about the flash mob. When we parted, wishing each other a pleasant evening, we all smirked a little.

Anna and Marge joined us, telling that they had been with Austrians, who had complained about the loud Germans. We hadn't noticed them, but Anna explained that the Austrians always complained about the Germans, who were always more numerous; that they objected to others' assuming that they were Germans. Marge agreed from her more limited experience, and we returned to our room, where Sans' bottle of wine was waiting for us.

While he opened it, I told Marge and Anna about the two English couples. They snickered, and we included them in our toast, chuckling about their not having bothered with condoms or other forms of birth control. Sans and I had taken it for granted that Marge and Anna had. I knew that Anna took the pill. Marge told us that she had a UID. After a second or third drink - we weren't sipping; I think the others also knew that Anna's remark about not doing anything no longer applied.

I ventured to ask:

"And it won't happen, your periods?"

They both grinned, shaking their heads. Marge remarked:

"Just good luck, but I would have done something about that."

"Like I did. Embarrassing, asking my doctor. Guess he had heard the question before, telling me how to use the pill to move mine."

We raised our glasses again, silently toasting their anticipation of our vacation. Then, with another sip, our glasses were empty. We all looked from one to the other with slight smiles, obviously all waiting for one of us to suggest that we do something. I felt my cock's anticipation, didn't look at Sans, and didn't have to look directly at Anna's nipples to recognized that they had popped out. She snorted softly and unconsciously rubbed her forearm over them. Then she smiled wryly and muttered:

"Why do I always have to be the one to suggest that we go to the bathroom?"

We all snorted, nodding and returning her smile - and went; same procedure as before. Sans' cock was also longer as we hung them over the edge of the washbasin. Before we started go, he snorted and pulled his loose sack and balls over the edge. I then did the same, feeling the cool porcelain under them, and pleased that my balls also hung past the inch or two of the edge. But then our cocks were aiming at the back of the basin. After the first splash of our streams, we quickly held them down, chuckling as we aimed at the drain and then exchanged smirks in the mirror.

This time, we took turns using a washcloth to wash more than just our cocks, passing it on to Anna, who did the same, smirking at us in the mirror, as she washed further behind her pussy. While we dried ourselves, Marge washed. When she was also finished we returned to the room - another exchange of questioning glances, now also glances at cocks and breasts, all showing anticipation of whatever we were going to do.

Anna looked at Marge, as though she didn't want to be the one to have suggest everything. Marge snorted slightly with a little nod and murmured:

"Why don't we all do it together, like we did a couple of nights ago?"

Sans and I nodded - of course! Anna smiled broadly, as though that was what she had been hoping, looking at his cock. Fair enough; she had sucked mine that morning, not just sucked it! His cock looked as though it liked the idea. I didn't have to look at mine to know that it also did, but Marge did, then giving me a smile.

Anna hummed with a grin and flung back the covers and dove down on the bed, grinning at us before she rolled away from us. Marge followed her - back to back, head to hips - and Sans and I joined them - he across the head of the bed, I at the foot of the bed. As we were getting comfortable with our heads on their thighs, Marge began to fondle my balls and cock. What a lovely pink, young pussy, I was thinking, looking at Anna's, about to move my face so close that I couldn't see it. As I started to, I heard her murmur:

"I don't think I can do it this way, like I did this morning - another time."

"Um-hmm," I heard him acknowledge.

What a pleasure! All of us doing something we enjoyed so much and enjoying how much someone else enjoyed giving us pleasure - Marge, me. Just so compatible, knowing from experience that we all recognized that we were in no hurry; that we wanted to indulge in prolonging the arousing sensations we were giving each other, and the delicious sensations for our mouths. Fucking is the ultimate pleasure, of course, but then it gets out of control, usually a little stress of trying to control my orgasm while trying to give her hers.

I reached up and fondled Anna's breast. She responded by reaching down and tousling my hair. Nice, just a nice confirmation that we recognized each other. I should do the same with Marge; my hand reached back and found her breast. She nodded with a hum, and then her hand slid over my hip, her fingernails just scratching below the base of my spine. "Uhnn!" Felt good, arousing, but she understood that we didn't yet want it to become too arousing.

We didn't, delightfully teasing each other by slacking off when hips twitched, sometimes in turn; my tongue stilling in Anna's pussy, while Marge almost brought me over the edge, and the other way around; sometimes all of us holding back, relaxing together with moaning sighs, as we let our arousal subside - and our tongues rest.

But then - who started it? Marge's fingernails scratched down to my asshole. She knew what was going to happen if she started that, making it tighten and my cock surge. Sans gave a louder moan. Was Anna doing the same? Had before? She wanted him to come in her mouth? She must want me to make her come. Marge gave a long deep moan, buzzing on my cock - from what Sans' tongue was doing on her firm, aroused clitoris? I knew what it was like! But not better than Anna's!

Of course, we all didn't come at the same time, but better. I couldn't help but neglect Anna when my hips jerked and my cock began to spurt in Marge's mouth, having to grunt and groan, as she moaned with each spurt. It sounded like Sans was doing the same. Then I felt that Marge was savoring my semen, her tongue caressing my now overly sensitive spot.

I tried to forget the almost painful sensation and began to arouse Anna again, eagerly, as intensely as I could. Oh, I wanted to make her hips twitch, to make her pussy give me her love juice, to make her whole body spasm!

She wanted it, rocking her hips, but then losing control. Her thighs quivered, and her hips twitched incessantly, as she gasped and moan. Oooh! Marge was also gasping, sucking cool air in around my cock! "Uhnn!" Anna's sweet love juice! More than I could lap up.

"Uhn!" Marge almost bit my cock, her body jerking like Anna's had, and the wet sounds were not just from my tongue; Sans was also trying to lap up all of Marge's juice.

We all relaxed with long, deep, sighing moans. My cock was still in Marge's mouth, no longer so sensitive, and wilting slowly. Her tongue moved gently on it, as though she were sucking her thumb.

I had to snort at the thought that that was good practice for girls as an introduction to cock-sucking. And what for boys, as an introduction to pussy-licking? Nothing occurred to me; they also just sucked their thumbs - but not as an introduction to cock-sucking. Oh, the sucking for both boys and girls was really only about nursing; have to remember to suck Anna's and Marge's breasts, but I still liked the idea that girls/women naturally liked to suck on something like their thumb.

My cock probably wasn't much bigger than mine, when I rolled back, and it slipped from between Marge's lips. She gave a slightly disappointed sounding little moan, and then snorted and murmured:

"You took it away from me. I was just sucking my thumb, well, that occurred to me, just nice to have in my mouth."

"Hm-hm-hmm! Just what I was thinking; it felt like that, and that girls must just naturally like to suck cocks."

The others chuckled. Anna replied cheerfully:

"I do."

"You sure do, thank you," Sans remarked.

"Me too," Marge agreed, snickering.

We all chuckled again and moved around on the bed, lying with our heads on the pillows. It was almost dark outside and darker in the room. I remarked:

"You two really like to do it."

"Um-hmm," Marge agreed. Anna remarked:

"You would too. Oh, I mean, not like that, ... but, well, ... of course men like you don't, but why shouldn't you? Boys also suck their thumbs."

Sans snorted sharply. I would have, if I hadn't already thought about that. Marge remarked:

"You don't mind that we like to do it to each other."

"Oh no," Sans agreed: "better than women who don't, more adventurous and, ... well, I don't know, but I like that you do."

"We do too," Anna replied, and then we were silent.

The women were lying between us, as usual. I put my outside hand to my mouth and put my thumb in it, experimenting with sucking and licking it. Nice. Was I thinking about sucking a cock? Of course, I must have been, no problem sucking all of my thumb in my mouth. Suddenly Marge, next to me, asked:

"What are you doing?"

Had she seen me, or heard me sucking. She certainly did when I pulled it out and murmured:

"Sucking my thumb. Can't remember when I last did."

Soft snickers. Then we heard Anna noisily sucking hers, humming. Then she made it pop loudly as she drew it out and said:

"Good, but not as good as a cock."

"I'll take your word for it," I replied, feeling my cheeks flush.

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed, and we were silent again.

I wondered what to think about our conversation and wondered what the others were thinking. Were the women telling us that they thought we could suck each other's cock? There, I thought that! They didn't seem bothered by the idea, like we weren't bothered by their licking each other's pussy. What was Sans thinking?

The silence continued, then he asked softly:

"Have you ever dreamt about sucking your own cock?"

Surprised snorts from Marge and Anna - and from me. I had. Had he? Must have, to ask that.

"Um-hmm, guess you have too, tried to in a dream, a couple of them."

"Um-hmm. Hm-hmm! Just trying to."

"What men dream about!" Marge remarked.

"You couldn't," Anna murmured.

"No," Sans agreed: of course not, but somehow close enough for it to seem like I almost could."

"Um-hmm, something like that. Hm-hmm! Must have been a foot long, longer; I was getting close, thinking I could, but never did."

"Really?" Marge asked: "Don't think girls have dreams like that."

"I haven't. And you both had dreams about that?" Anna added.

"A great international men's secret," I replied.

Chuckles, maybe nervous chuckles from Sans and me, apprehensive of where the conversation was going. Marge said:

"If you wanted to have your cocks sucked - that kind of a dream - you didn't need to try to do it yourselves. You couldn't, anyway. Or were they really about wanting to?"

"I'm pretty sure," I replied: I remember thinking that leaning down like that wouldn't let me lick it where it felt best."

"You really wanted to suck it, not just have it sucked?" she asked.

"Um-hmm," Sans agreed.

"Maybe it wasn't your own," Marge murmured, adding: "didn't have to be your own, just couldn't allow yourself to dream that."

"Hmm? Hadn't thought of that."

"Nor I," I agreed, surprised by, but recognizing the validity of her remark, that the taboo was so great that we couldn't dream about sucking another cock. But was that what we subconsciously wanted to do, why we had the dreams?!

Anna murmured:

"Pity that you couldn't, since you both wanted to."

"Um-hmm," Marge agreed.

There was another silence with more questioning thoughts. What were Sans', mine? Then Marge spoke again:

"I certainly wouldn't think anything about it, if you did, like you don't about us."

"Um-hmm," Anna agreed: "I wouldn't either. Why not? We like to do what you like to do, and you know we like to do it to you. Why shouldn't you?"

Sans and I both gave questioning hums. Before the silence got too long, Marge murmured:

"The first time I did it with another girl, I felt like I was breaking ..., well, you know; girls just don't do that unless ..., but I wasn't, we were just doing something that felt very good, also to do."

"Um-hmm," Anna agreed: "but I guess Petra and I didn't have that problem - seen too much on internet - just the question if we two wanted to do it. We did."

Sans and I again gave questioning hums. I found myself murmuring:

"I know that I would like it. When they do it - not just now, too busy myself - I think how it must feel for them - before it gets too good to think about anything else."

"Um-hmm," he agreed. Marge and Anna also hummed their agreement.

Another silence, broken by Marge:

"If you want to, I think you should. No better opportunity, if you are curious. I would be. I would like it that you were open enough to settle your curiosity, like your liking us for doing it to each other."

"Um-hmm, me too," Anna murmured.

More silence. I wanted to, I admitted to myself. Of course, I wanted to! But did he? At least, we knew that they didn't think we had to be queer to be curious about it, to want to. But did he want to?! More silence, a very pregnant silence, if men's discussing possibly sucking each other's cock could have anything to do with pregnancy. Of course, the word had other meanings, but that was the most obviously inappropriate one. Marge saved us, murmuring:

"We'd better do it, before they discover why we like to and don't need us any more."

I wasn't sure that my cock needed to be sucked again. Oh, I was sure that it didn't, but having Anna or Marge do it was better than thinking further about Sans' maybe wanting to - especially about my thinking of sucking his! Which one sucked mine? It didn't matter, her pussy/muschi was good - of course! - and she soon convinced my cock that it wanted to again. Of course, her - which one's? - muschi also wanted to. They always did - could! Unfair! But then my cock also wanted to. I hoped that she didn't mind that it hadn't been as much as before, or that it hadn't been as much as with him.

Anna and Marge joined us on the pillows, between us, and we curled up, no one saying anything. I was relieved that Marge had found a solution of a very ticklish situation. Their silence suggested that they felt the same way.

When we awoke in the morning we greeted each other, smiling. When Sans and I smirked, Marge and Anna also did, without anyone referring to our conversation. Then, as usual, Anna was the first to say that she had to go. Sans, the complete gentleman, immediately rose and gave her a hand. She grinned, nodding, and they headed for the bathroom. Marge smirked at me and said:

"Don't know if I can wait for them to shower."

I gave her my hand and replied:

"Either we chase them out of the shower or go on the drain in the floor."

"Hmm! Knowing them, probably the latter."

Raunchy? Two couples peeing together? Very, but not as raunchy as it could have been, just with our hands in each other's stream. Anna did aim his up on herself. Marge's and mine only splashed on our legs. Sans turned on the water and handed us the shower head on the hose to let us rinse ourselves and the floor. We stood with our arms around each other and watched them wash each other, chuckling with them when they more than just washed each other's private parts. There wasn't much private about them; we all were about as familiar with each other's as we could be.

I suggested that Sans could use my razor while Marge and I showered. We were just as familiar washing each other, and then I shaved. When we returned to the room, at the sight of the bed, Sans and I exchanged wry smiles. Marge and Anna acknowledged our expressions with the mildest of smiles and slightest of nods. He broke the moment of silence:

"Breakfast, Avignon."

We were among the first people at breakfast. Eventually Willy and Ron and their girlfriends greeted us and sat at the next table. When we started to leave, they asked what we were planning for the day. Sans told that he was taking us to Avignon. They were surprised and wished us a nice outing, remarking that we were lucky to be able to do something outside the resort. As we turned to leave, Willy chuckled and said:

"Don't forget to put on clothes."

We all chuckled, nodding with grins. Marge replied:

"He already warned us that we will be visiting churches; no bare shoulders or hot pants."

They grinned, nodding, and we left, agreeing to meet again, since Sans had to go back to his room.

As we were dressing, we smirked at each other, since we all made it a sort of reverse striptease. Marge started it, grinning as she slid her bra up over her breasts before she slipped the straps up her arms. When I recognized what she was doing, it occurred to me that a woman stripping off her bra should still have panties on, but she didn't, the slit of her waxed pussy visible. How many times had I licked and fucked it? Anna then did the same. Their putting on panties didn't allow much teasing, but I made a show of pulling my underpants up behind my balls and cock and then slowly letting them disappear and jostling them when they had. Fully dressed, we met Sans and went to his car.

No one objected when I sat in the front seat. Did they - or had I - thought that appropriate after what we had done? I didn't want to talk about that. When we on the highway, I remarked: