Love Around the World 06: France

A/N - I'll admit I don't read any stories in this category, and I've only ever written one story for this category, which was part of a series I completed a while ago, so I'm not sure what people expect when it comes to stories submitted here. Is it only all about the anal? Is it a mix of anal and erotic couplings? Anal and romance? Anal and... Well, there is a myriad of options.

Previous stories in this series:

Love Around the World - Andorra (Mature)

Love Around the World - Bangkok (Interracial)

Love Around the World - Colombia (Transgender)

Love Around the World - Dresden (Romance)

Love Around the World - Estonia (Group Sex)

Australian / British standard English. There is a good chance of reading the following: lots of profanity, characters drinking, typos, and bad grammar at times.

Proofreading and editing suggestions provided by OhDave1. Any mistakes are still mine.

Comments are appreciated as always.

Feedback by email is always welcome. Enjoy chatting with anyone who likes my work.

*****

Who knew that French girls loved it in the butt...

*****

Winning the lottery is always a life-changing event. Most of the time, a lottery winner wins a few million dollars and they no doubt immediately splurge on things like a new house, new car or cars, a holiday to a destination they've considered but could never afford, perhaps filling their new house with all manner of new electronics and things they probably don't need but can now afford to buy. Of course, there are the few that win a few million and then lose it all rather quickly as they waste it all on living the good life.

I didn't win a few million or anything like that. I didn't pick six or seven numbers plus the bonus ball to see my name in lights on the news. Instead, I usually played scratch cards, looking out for the really good cards, those that offer a certain amount of cash over a few years. They usually appear a few times a year, perhaps offering $100,000 a year for ten years or something similar.

The scratch card I won on was $20,000 a month for twenty-years. Absolutely insane! Doing the sums, it totals up to six million dollarydoos by the time I would receive the last payment. The sum I'd have in my bank account a month would be more than enough to easily live on without having to work.

I won the lottery at the age of nineteen. My parents immediately sat me down and told me to be smart with such an incoming fortune. To my surprise, they didn't ask me to give them a cent though I knew I'd eventually give them a little something. I loved my parents and would want to share my fortune with them. Being an only child perhaps has its advantages. I was already working with my father as a tradesman, having left school at sixteen, working as an apprentice with him from that age, and still working on my qualifications to become an electrician.

"You can remain at home for as long as you want, sweetie," Mum stated, "You already pay rent, and we're not going to suddenly expect you to pay five times the amount you already give us. Your father and I already lived comfortably. The fact you offered to pay rent as soon as you started working was evidence of your maturity and wanting to pay your way in life."

"I'm sure you have plenty of ideas in your head already," Dad added, "Maybe finding your own place to live. Maybe your own ute. Maybe... I don't know, blow it all on games and stuff."

"I've always wanted to travel," I replied, neither of them particularly surprised by that admission, "What I'm going to do is save and invest, but when I hit twenty-one, I'm going to take off and travel Europe for a while. And since I'll have a bit of cash, I'm definitely doing the trip to and from Sydney in Business Class!"

I spent the next two years planning my trip away. A couple of friends finished university in that time and took off for Europe before me. I didn't live frugally, but I didn't let many people know about my good fortunate. My parents made sure most of the family didn't know either as they knew that I'd be hit up for money constantly.

Though I didn't need to work, I did obtain a two-year holiday visa as it meant I could remain in the United Kingdom and Europe for long enough to travel everywhere I wanted. I would be slightly hamstrung by the Schengen rules that I would have to follow, but at least I could remain in the United Kingdom without an issue the entire time if necessary.

Mum and Dad saw me off at the airport around a month after my twenty-first birthday, planning my trip so I would land in the United Kingdom in the northern hemisphere late winter so I could start some road trips. After getting my boarding pass and dumping my luggage, Dad shook my hand and assured me I'd still have a job when I returned. Mum hugged me and I don't think wanted to let me go. Dad eventually had to gently prise her away from me.

Landing in London Heathrow after flying via Dubai, a couple of friends were there to meet me, rather bleary-eyed as my flight landed early in the morning, London time. Taking me back to the apartment they shared, I was in desperate need of a shower and a nap before I woke up and they didn't waste time showing me everything London had to offer over the next few days.

Beer. Lots and lots of different sorts of beer.

I'd arrived with what I considered a solid plan of what I wanted to do for two years. I would spend a month in London and the United Kingdom with my friends. I would then buy a car and head off to Dover, get the ferry over to France, then spend three months in France, Spain and Portugal. Back to the United Kingdom for ninety days as I couldn't remain in the Schengen Zone beyond that, then I'd return after a further ninety days via the same route into Europe though heading east into the Netherlands, Belgium and Germany. Would definitely spend a lot of time in the latter as I hoping to get to Munich for Oktoberfest in late September.

"I've only been to Paris," Scott told me over beers a couple of days after I arrived, "I got working straight away. Thanks to the different visa, I'm already considering staying here beyond the five years. Get residency, maybe even citizenship."

"Can you do that, Mark?" Daniel asked me.

"No idea. Parents were born in Australia as were all my grandparents. I think the generation after that, my father's side has links to the United Kingdom. I think that's too far back for me to get any sort of visa."

"I'm surprised you're bothering, Scott," James said, "With Brexit and everything..."

"I'm looking at it from the viewpoint of getting citizenship and the passport. We're still waiting to see what happens regarding any sort of deal. If it turns out that having a British passport is no different to an Australian one, I won't bother and just remain a resident."

"When are you planning to go?" James asked me.

"As soon as I've got a car and insured it for Europe, I'll organise a few places to stay and take off. I plan on spending more time in France than Spain or Portugal. Definitely want to do Normandy and west into Brittany, then down through the centre around Tours and Orléans, before ending up in Bordeaux. After Iberia, I'll return via Toulouse, then follow the south coast via Marseille and Avignon towards Nice, definitely doing a day trip into Monaco, before I start returning north up the eastern edge, probably via Lyon, Strasbourg, Metz and Reims before I dump the car in Paris then catch the Eurostar back from there."

I picked up a used car that didn't have too many miles on the clock and ensured it was left-hand drive, so I wasn't driving a right-hand drive car on the right side of the road while I was in Europe. I could just see an accident happening with that. The car was originally from Germany though had been owned by a Polish family that moved to the United Kingdom a couple of years before the Brexit referendum was even mentioned.

Organising everything was easy enough. Two nights before I departed, my friends took me out for a night on the lash. I'd learned rather quickly that young Australian men were quite popular with some of the ladies of London. I wasn't what would be considered your usual surfer dude. I grew up in the western suburbs of Sydney and getting to the beach was usually a pain in the arse, making do with the backyard pool at either my house or that of a friend's family. It was usually the accent and our general relaxed attitude to life in general that seemed to help us make friends.

Thankfully, waking up next to a woman the next morning simply led to a kiss on the cheek before she had a shower, and got dressed though not without ensuring I had her phone number, just in case I was interested in hooking up when I got back. Walking out to the kitchen to meet my friends once she left, I had to scratch my head and ask, "Um, was I the only one?"

"Nah, the bird I picked up only came back for a shag before she took off home as soon as we finished," Daniel replied.

"I didn't even get her back here. Blowjob in the back of the taxi then she dropped me off and went home," Scott added, "Got to love English slappers. She didn't even hesitate in swallowing my cum. Tried to kiss me afterwards. Um, no thanks, love."

My friends did see me off early in the morning the day of my departure. I promised to keep in touch and there were tentative plans for them to meet me in Paris once I had an idea of when I'd arrive. The drive to Dover was easy enough, the journey across on the ferry to Calais more comfortable than I thought it would be, and hopping onto the motorway leading west to Bayeux was a breeze. I knew some motorways were free, some were paid, but I planned on sticking to A-roads and B-roads, passing through quaint little French towns and villages.

I'd done my best to learn at least a little bit of French before my departure from Australia. I felt confident I could read a menu, and I figured I could handle a few phrases. Understanding it spoken to me though? I knew it was going to be difficult.

Bayeux was the perfect place to base myself when it came to exploring Normandy. All five D-Day beaches were in close proximity to the town of Bayeux. The beautiful city of Caen is also close by, and I made sure to visit the place, it was almost totally destroyed in 1944 but painstakingly rebuilt after the war. But I immediately fell in love with Bayeux. The first town in France that was liberated on June 6^th, 1944. Home to some beautiful buildings and the world-famous Bayeux tapestry. Even at the time of year, late spring though the weather could still prove iffy close to the Channel, it was full of tourists. Many Americans and Canadians came to pay their respects while I made sure to visit the enormous Commonwealth cemetery near the middle of town.

Though I could afford to stay in luxury hotels if I wanted to, I was travelling back in the day when using AirBnB didn't have the negativity it does nowadays. Though I planned on staying in the occasional hotel, I had already spoken to most of my hosts who were pleased to hear of my interest in France, French history and culture, and many were looking forward to my arrival. The lady I was staying with in Bayeux didn't speak much English, but she was very friendly, even offering me dinner one evening with her husband and two adult children.

I didn't miss the eyes her daughter was giving me across the table. I might have been young, but I wasn't stupid. She was attractive and I knew if I started to flirt, I could probably bed her. Not being arrogant, her interest in me was obvious. I think even her parents picked up on it as they both said something in French more than once that had her blushing. The fact she could speak very good English, her father not knowing a word it seemed and her mother not a lot more...

"Where are you off to next?" Amélie asked later that evening as we visited a nearby pub.

"I'm heading to Mont Saint Michel the day after tomorrow, then a day in Saint-Malo as I'm a sucker for ancient walled cities, even if they're a reconstruction. Heading all the way to the west coast of Brittany before I head back east towards Le Mans then south."

"Are you going to Orléans?"

"Definitely."

"Do you know Jeanne D'Arc?"

I gave her a look and replied, "Well, in the English-speaking world, she's known as Joan of Arc, but yes, I'm aware the city is pretty much devoted to her."

"We are not the most religious of people any longer, but most French men and women still love her. If you ever get to Rouen, where they burned her..."

"Ah, the English rosbifs..."

The name made her giggle. "Yes, that is definitely one of the names we call them."

Silence descended as she sipped her glass of wine, and I took a sip of my beer. I knew she was at least ten years older than me, divorced with no children. She hadn't been shy in telling me about her life. She knew I was touring around France and Iberia and that I would eventually return to Australia once my holiday was over.

"Mark, I'm going to be blunt. Would you like to come back to mine tonight? I know you're leaving the day after tomorrow, so we know if you come home with me, it's just going to be sex. I don't know or care when you last had sex, but for me, it's been six months."

"Really? Why?"

"Well, to be honest, the divorce was bitter, and he made sure to smear my name. Bayeux is a small town and even people who know me well believed some of his accusations."

Finishing my beer in a few gulps made her chuckle, turning towards her as the low light certainly highlighter her brown eyes and golden blonde hair. Sipping at her wine, she put down her glass and didn't hesitate in kissing me. It took all of a few seconds before it turned hot and heavy, pulling apart and grabbing our coats without needing to exchange a word. Her home was only a short walk away. As soon as we were inside, she was leading me upstairs to one of the bedrooms, shedding our clothes as we continued making out. Freeing her breasts made my eyes light up as she was certainly abundant in the chest region. There was no stopping to slow down when it came to underwear, feeling her finger wrap around my cock as I lowered her panties, feeling that she kept her pubic hair at a reasonable length.

"I hope you don't mind," she whispered, "He always wanted me shaved. I prefer not to be shaved nowadays."

"Don't care and won't care once we're making love."

That made her smile. "I'm glad you said that but you're fucking me, Mark."

I might have been fucking her later, but once I had her back on the bed, I spread her legs and enjoyed tasting her for the first time. I'd always been what I called an equal opportunities lover. I savoured going down on a woman, and if I was dating her, it was a good excuse to learn what she loved, and I'd store that for later. Even if it was only a short-term fling, I wouldn't hesitate. Nothing makes me feel better as a man and a lover than making my partner enjoy an orgasm or ten when being intimate.

Amélie babbled in French as I brought her closer to orgasm. I couldn't help smiling to myself, hoping I'd hear other women babbling in the same language during the trip. It was a major turn-on though she switched to English as the orgasm tore through her body, begging me to move up so I could slide my cock inside her.

"Oui! Oui!" she cried out as I buried my cock, "Fuck..."

"Swearing in English?"

"Your curse words are so much better," she exclaimed, "Oh god, fuck me, Mark."

It was a purely physical act. I think we'd both be honest about that. But our bodies certainly moulded together well, feeling her moving her hips as she was desperate to feel my cock buried with each thrust. Our mouths only parted when we needed to breathe, grunt or curse. I felt her nails digging into my back as I fucked her faster and faster, feeling an orgasm of my own starting to build.

"Where?" I had to ask.

"Inside. I'm safe. It's okay..." She paused and giggled. "Didn't even think about a condom."

"I'm usually good about it but..."

She kissed me hard, resting her forehead against mine, brown eyes gazing into my blue. "Just one night... And I love feeling you like this inside me already."

It was one hell of an orgasm, grunting as I unloaded inside her, feeling her legs wrap around me so I remained inside her even after I had emptied myself entirely. Sharing a series of soft kisses, I pulled out and lay next to her as she rolled onto her side, her fingers caressing my chest. I was still young but already had a light covering of dark hair that matched the hair on my head.

"Um... Mark... Do you enjoy anal sex?"

I had to turn my head and stare at her in surprise. "What?" I asked, hearing my voice go up an octave.

"Anal. You know, where you put your cock..."

"I know what anal sex is, Amélie," I stated with a chuckle, "I just wasn't expecting that so quickly. Anal is usually something spoken about... much later if it's spoken about at all."

"I love anal," she admitted, "I love feeling a thick cock inside my arse. My ex-husband didn't like it. Called it dirty. Thought I was a whore because I liked it. I'm actually surprised at how many men don't like it. I thought it was all the rage, but I've been proven wrong many times over the years."

"Amélie, I'm going to need to be rather stupid here, but are you asking me for anal sex right now?"

"Oui. Je veux vraiment que tu me baises dans le cul ce soir."

"I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded sexy."

Rolling onto my side, I ran my fingers down her back to her arse. She had more tits than arse, and she'd said that to me earlier that night as I couldn't help glancing at her cleavage, but she still had a lovely derriere. Kissing me softly, she rolled away and opened a drawer in her nightstand, handing me a tube of what looked like lube.

"Since I've been single for so long, I have a drawer full of sex toys and I'm always ready for some of what the English call backdoor action."

"We totally need to swap phone numbers before I leave."

"Ah, my young lover would like some naughty pictures."

"Yes. Yes, I would like that very much."

I was young and open-minded, and I'd had more than one girlfriend back in Australia who I'd enjoyed a little rear-entry action with. Young women seemed to come in two flavours. It was either their arse was completely off-limits and don't even ask, or their arse was a playground and they wanted you to lick it, finger it and fuck it.

Amélie was definitely girl number two. I got her ready for a lot of fun as I had her moaning and laughing as I spent a lot of time kissing up and down her back, whispering about how sensitive she was feeling once I had a few fingers inside her.

When it came to slowly sliding my cock inside her, my god, she was so hot and tight, I was glad I'd already cum inside her otherwise I'd have emptied into her bowels within a few short minutes. With her head on a pillow and my hands at her hips, she wasn't shy in pushing back against me as I started to pump her. She might not have had anal in quite a while, but it didn't take long until she was very much an active participant.

"Fuck me," she moaned, looking back at me, "Fuck me harder."

"You sure?"

"I want to feel funny tomorrow morning. That means I've been fucked properly."

I leaned forward and pretty much mounted her. That made her groan and cry out though she only leaned up to kiss my cheek, actually thanking me for fucking her harder. Driving my cock harder and harder, I did notice her wince more than once, and she did release more than one grunt, but all she did was beg me for more and more until I finally had to cum.

Even after I came, my cock remained hard, and I kept fucking her. All she wanted me to do was pull out so she could roll over, insisting I slide my cock back inside her. Feeling her legs wrap around me again, she told me not to stop until I simply couldn't keep going.