Bastille Day Ch. 12

She collapsed on me, gasping and moaning with me. After a few breaths, she rocked her hips and extended her legs. I forgot to tell that she had drawn her knees up; had to be obvious from our fucking like that. Our stomachs rose and fell against each other as we recovered. Finally, she murmured:

"So much for thinking about tapering off."

"Um-hmm, stupid idea."

"Hmm! I guess so. ... Hm-hmm! I was thinking that we would go to breakfast before they did, but I guess not."

"Um-hmm!

We both chuckled. My cock had slipped out. We got up and had our shower, my shaving, and went to breakfast, exchanging smirks. They smiled at us, then smirking when we sat down at their table. Anna murmured:

"We thought you would already be here."

"We did too," Marge replied: "but we talked a lot."

"Just talked?"

"Don't be indiscreet."

Sans smirked again and whispered:

"She didn't want to talk."

Anna grinned, shaking her head, and replied softly:

"And then you didn't want to either."

"Then she couldn't," he said with another smirk.

We all chuckled. Marge glanced at me and replied:

"We can imagine why."

Anna nodded again with a grin. He also nodded, smirking broadly. She then said:

"But we did talk. He offered to drive me to Paris on Saturday, when you have to leave. He could stay till Sunday morning, but said that he had spend Sunday at home catching up on emails and information from his office."

He nodded, this time looking a little apologetic about the obvious implication that she could spend another night with him. We nodded. I replied:

"What a nice suggestion."

"It's a long drive," he remarked: "better to have company."

He turned to her and asked:

"Can you drive?"

She nodded. He smiled and said:

"Maybe we can share the driving."

"Uhmm! If you think so, your nice big car."

"All the better," Marge responded.

We all nodded again with smiles and had our breakfast, and enjoyed another day as normal nude resort guests.

That didn't keep me from observing all the others.

Who is a "normal" nudist resort guest? Were we, maybe? But nudists, "naturists," weren't supposed to relate going nude with sex, and we certainly did. Of course, some of them did - those couples at Cap d'Agde who had frequented the open-sex end of the beach. But here? Had the many couples arrived together? What about the young and not so young women who still appeared to be unattached, with now well tanned breasts and shaven pussies? The single men? Not enough of them to go around?

At least the families seemed to be "true naturists." Don't stare, I admonished myself, but it was sweet to see how unconcerned the younger children were, and even sweeter to see how older girls were growing up to look like their mothers. I hoped the prematurely developing ones didn't get their mothers' pendulous breasts - not for a few years.

And the older teenagers? Few around, all off at the youth activities. What did their parents think about that? Even they had spent all their family vacations at nudist resorts, they must know that late teenagers couldn't think about anything else - those rules about behavior, including a warning about STDs. Or were the kids really true naturists and didn't think about that? Very unlikely!

I didn't, of course, spend all day thinking about that; sometimes I thought about Anna, with the thoughts of a late teenager. Marge had said that she wanted to sleep with Sans, but did his offer to take Anna to Paris imply that they expected to sleep together again that night? Tomorrow night, if they wanted to, would be all right. Or would we all want to have a final night together?

My thoughts as a teenager about whether a girl wanted to go out with me or someone else certainly hadn't been about whether or how she would sleep with me, usually not even if she would let me kiss her. And my ideas about how she could sleep with me had been extremely limited. I hoped that Marge would arrange things. Sans should be generous, having secured a final night with Anna in Paris. The thoughts that a man three times older than a late teenager could have!

I'm not sure just why it worked out. At dinner, of course, I tried to favor Anna a little, and she didn't seem impartial to my interest, but we all had flirted with each others at times. Maybe I was too busy to notice what Marge was doing. She had said that she wanted to spend the night with Sans, so she should have been working towards that. Or maybe Sans understood that it was my turn to sleep with Anna. Had she swallowed his cock, and again in the morning?! It had sounded like it at breakfast. He should want me to let her enjoy that, especially knowing that they would be together all day and night on Saturday. Another "picnic?" If they wanted to, as long as Anna wanted to swallow my cock again. Or didn't she want to try that again, hadn't with him, and I was assuming too much? Whatever?

As we left the restaurant, Sans took Marge's hand and said:

"If you two don't mind, I think it was nice just one-on-one, like last night."

"It was," I agreed, seeing Marge nod, and then feeling Anna's hand find mine.

We all smiled, looking at each other, Anna squeezing my hand when I looked at her. I wanted to grin, but didn't. It would have probably been a very lecherous grin, I thought, suddenly considering that the word "lecherous" could be related to "licking," most appropriate, if it were.

We wished each other goodnight - with restrained smirks - and went our ways, Anna clasping my hand again, and I, hers.

It was a lot earlier than usual for us to think about going to bed, but as we neared our room, my cock was already thinking about it. When I turned on the light in the room, Anna noticed, humming when she glanced up at my face with a smile. A cock-sucking smile, a lecherous smile? I didn't like to think about her with those terms, but I did, couldn't help myself.

"We'd better go, ... first," she murmured. I nodded and let her lead me to the bathroom. She "tinkled" in the toilet, grinning at me in the mirror, as I used the washbasin. If she licked her lips, it would be a lecherous grin. She did! I licked mine with a smirk and washed my cock. She flushed and took a washcloth and washed her pussy and asshole at the basin. When she gave me the washcloth, I remembered to wash my asshole, appreciating her perspicacity. What did she want to do? More than just put her finger in it?

She smiled at me, nodding while I did. Whatever she wanted. She was a nice girl, a very nice girl, like I would have wanted a daughter to be; a very, very nice girl who enjoyed making a man very happy. Would I have wanted my daughter to be like that?! I guess I had said so on the drive to Avignon. And with me, like she was with her father?! Like Sans' daughter was with him? Probably, if both those fathers were so lucky.

I was brought back by Anna's murmuring:

"I want to. You know how, easier than the first time, now."

She had with Sans! But Marge and I had assumed that. To hell with worrying about her being a nice girl; she was just a very, very nice one! I nodded with a smile, hoping that it didn't look lecherous. She led me back to the room, stepping aside to let me lie down. I was a little surprised that my cock had relaxed after all those thoughts. She gave me a pleased smile as she knelt on the bed and then straddled me. When she leaned down, I grasped her hips to draw them down on my face, but she murmured:

"Just me, now; later," and raised my cock.

"Um-hmm," I agreed, continuing to hold her hips.

It was full, but not stiff. She held it straight and pushed my foreskin down with her lips. As I felt her tongue caress my knob - not yet really a plum - I didn't have to hum, but I did. She sucked to draw it deeper in her warm mouth, but after a few seconds, it wanted to go deeper by itself, and she didn't have to hold it.

Oh no, she didn't have to hold it, and not to keep it from going too deep! But not yet, she wanted to enjoy caressing it with her tongue - like I would have. That was so good! Feeling it twitch! "Uhmmm," felt good for me and for her! It was so good now to know how good it felt for her, know why she liked to do it. If he had had similar thoughts last night, ... if he wanted to do it again ...?

"Uhnnn!" She was already bobbing her head, my plum rubbing further back on her pallet. She'd said it was easier now; did that mean she wanted to swallow it sooner: more times; hold it for longer; make me come deep in her throat?! What had she done with him? Even further! The next time, the one after?!

"Uhnnnn!" All the way, her chin down on my hair. "Uhnnn!" Fuck! Drawing her head back up again, all the way, slobbering and taking a deep breath, and another one.

"It's easier after the first time," she muttered, and then my cock was back in her mouth.

If she said so, ... It must have been; her head bobbed just a couple of times, and then went all the way down again. "Uhnnn! ... Uhnnn!" Still swallowing it! I felt her exhale and draw another breath, and felt her the muscles of her throat contract even tighter around my cock. OMG!

She drew her head up again, still holding my cock. I felt her stomach press on mine as she drew another deep breath, and then she lowered her head again. No bobbing, right down, all the way again!

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed softly. She nodded - with my cock deep in her throat! - and took another breath. Did she want me to come? Didn't she want to taste it? My cock could only try to twitch.

I was a little relieved when she raised her head again, both because it was less arousing and because I could only imagine that it had been a strain for her, even though she wanted to. She gave a growling hum. Pleased with herself, or a reflex after having her throat fucked?

She did want to taste it, just sucking and licking, and now the fingers of one hand crept around my hip and found my asshole. Couldn't expect her to do that while she was doing the other. Oh yes, she did want to taste it, moaning with me as my cock twitched and surged - as if I need any encouragement! And then I couldn't control my hips, more grunting than moaning as my cock spurted in her mouth, and she moaned with each spurt - more times than if she hadn't swallowed it before? It felt like it.

I gave a final, long, pulsing moan, and then had to moan again, as her tongue swilled my semen around the head of my cock. "Un-hnn," she responded, and swallowed, finally releasing my cock to raise her head so that she could swallow again, all my semen going down her throat, where my cock had been.

She hummed, sounding like she was satisfied with what she had done - or with what she had just swallowed. I certainly was. She scrambled around, giving me a cock-sucking grin, and dropped down on me, offering her lips to kiss. I had been wrong; she hadn't swallowed it all. She chuckled, and I did. Chuckling again, she raised her head and remarked:

"He forgot to speak English, when I did that."

"Hm-hmm! I don't speak French, but I can imagine what he could have said."

"Probably."