What I did on My Vacations Pt. 01

I did not know what to say so I said nothing. I turned to head for the beach, but he put his hand on my arm. "Je ne peux pas sortir comme ça." He said, indicating a family seated further along the beach. I realized he still had a full erection. "Sont des amis de mes parents." I got the picture; it wasn't going down. I pulled his arm, and we swam into deeper water. Then I pointed at him and moved my open fist up and down to indicate he should just jerk off. He looked at me accusingly and shook his head then pointed at my hand.

I looked at my watch, almost lunchtime. "Oh, well!" I took hold of it and started to pump it, but it was not so easy while treading water. I took a deep breath and ducked under the waves. With the combination of hand and mouth I finished him very quickly without having to swallow too much of the sudden stream of cum that burst into my mouth. Before surfacing I swam off a few yards just for appearance's sake. Then I swam swiftly to beach.

Marti emerged a minute later with everything reasonably under control. Neither of us said anything as we walked back, but he gave a little smile and patted my bum, the cheeky monster. I turned to him put a finger to my lips and then to his. He mimicked pulling a zipper across his mouth and I knew he had got the message. This stays between us. After all that we did manage to carry on a normal and pleasant conversation with Solange and Viktor during lunch.

After lunch I finished packing and was waiting on my own on the terrace with my suitcase when Solange came out. Marti and his dad had already given me goodbye hugs and gone to work. She was carrying a bottle of rose wine and two glasses. She sat down, poured, and handed me a glass. It seemed she still felt it necessary to warn me about Paul's beguiling ways. I would have found it funny, but something was clearly nagging her. When she spoke to me alone it was always in English or French, never Catalan.

"You are not suggesting he would ever do anything improper." I ventured trying to help her say whatever she felt she had to.

She was horrified. "No never! Of course not, but women can't resist him. Not all women, of course, but many."

"And you?" Had I dared to ask her?

"I told you he was my boyfriend before Viktor" she said hastily. "Before we got married. Growing up we had always hung out as chums. But then we would sometimes flirt and kiss a bit...even a little touching. But I would always say 'No' to anything further. He never pressed me.

Then after the Canadian girl left, I felt bad for him, I just wanted to cheer him up." She paused but I knew she had not finished. "I gave him a pipe and she opened her mouth and pointed. She was blushing furiously, and she gulped her wine and choked.

"A blow job" I supplied helpfully, thinking How recently I had given her son one.

"A blow job" she repeated refilling her glass. She looked over at mine, but I had barely touched it. I took a healthy sip now, as did she. I knew we were not done.

"That's funny" she said and gave a small laugh. "It's sucer not siffler, suck not blow." She had regained her composure. "No wonder the English are not considered romantic."

I knew a few girls at the Sorbonne who were ready to drop their panties at the sound of a British accent, mostly Americans, but some French girls too. I said nothing.

She sat for a moment and then said. "I said Yes. He had not even asked me. I had promised myself I would stay a virgin for my future husband but suddenly that seemed silly. I was half in love with Paul anyway and I was so ready."

I wanted to ask for details but sensibly didn't. Now was not the time.

"Then he had to go to college in Lyon and I did not see him for a while. I began to appreciate Viktor more. We became lovers. He is very charming in a quieter way, funny and reliable and a demon in bed. Those brothers are blessed, but I shouldn't be telling you that."

She took another hit of her wine. I had never seen her drink more than a glass at one sitting before. Clearly, she was buoying her courage.

"Viktor proposed and we were engaged and when Paul came back, he was happy for his brother. Paul was never the marrying kind." She stopped and took a deep breath. "And then the stupidest thing happened. A few days before our wedding Viktor went off one evening with one of the bridesmaids. An evil friend told me they were doing it; he was cheating on me. I was so mad I managed to persuade Paul against his better judgement.

'For old times sake' I said. I don't know what he thought but he did not pass up the offer. After I felt terrible. It turned out Viktor and the girl had been arranging a wedding surprise for me. I never told him. I never told anyone, not even when I went to confession."

I knew she was very much a practising Catholic, so this was a surprise.

"We'd always been careful, but that time I was in such a wild mood I held him in me to the end and by then I was crying."

"What happened?" I had to ask.

"Nothing then. I didn't tell anyone, nor did Paul. I think he was ashamed. It was a wonderful, uh, fuck, for me and I'm sure for him. I was so wound up I had two orgasms...you say orgasms, right? I'd never had that before."

She looked at me. "Viktor and I were married, and a month after the honeymoon I was pregnant with Chantal."

"So, you don't know if she's Paul's or Viktor's."

She stayed silent and nodded. We sat in silence and then I said: "You could have a DNA test."

"Not without everyone knowing. Paul probably realized it was possible but has said nothing...ever. Viktor has never even known it happened. There was no DNA then. Would DNA even decide anything, they are brothers? I don't even think I want to know. She is my lovely daughter. I don't know why I am even telling you this, but I finally needed to tell someone, and you are her friend."

"Do you want me to tell her?" I was confused.

"Mon Dieu, no, no, no. It is our secret. But you are so sympa and it's a relief to finally share with someone."

"The secret is safe with me." I said as we both finished our wine.

---

The weekend at the chalet was a blast. The new extension was a sunroom and was catching the rays of the late afternoon summer sun. While he went to pick up a ready-made meal from a local restaurant, I stripped off and lay naked in the sunshine to await his return.

On his return he did not comment on my nudity but simply stripped off and joined me. He had much better control of his body than Marti or perhaps he didn't find me exciting. Horrible thought! Then we ate what I felt sure was a romantic and unhurried dinner by candlelight. I was pretty sure we both knew what lay ahead.

It was the best, simply the best. Now he had no problem rising to the occasion. He was caring and passionate and after the first time, he took his time. Boy! did he take his time to bring me to a fever pitch and keep me on the crest of an orgasm without ever letting me go over. He used every conceivable part of his anatomy in turn to work every part of my body showing me erogenous zones I never thought I had, even in places I won't talk about.

He had given me my own room and after using the ensuite shower to clean up I went to bed with my nerve endings all aglow.

On both days after a delightful morning session, we went to a local café for a light breakfast. On Saturday he took me on a short hike as he showed off the beauty of this mountain world. We returned for a late lunch and then at his invitation I modeled for him as he showed me his painting skills.

We broke for aperitives as this renaissance man began to demonstrate his culinary skills. I could see why so many people found him irresistible, but I could hardly accuse him of seducing me. It was just difficult to leave him alone.

Dinner was delicious but he was smart enough to keep the portions small so we would not feel either bloated or sleepy afterwards. In payment for his hospitality, I went down on him and sucked on his balls while I pumped his incredible dick. I could feel him trying not to come too quickly but sensed when he was getting close. I switched my hands to massage his balls and perineum and my mouth to his cock running my tongue over the head and round the frenum.

He was too large to deep throat, but I did get the head and a couple of inches of shaft into my mouth before I knew he could hold it no longer. My mouth and throat were flooded with his semen and I started to gag. By lifting my head from his cock and with some vigorous swallowing I cured the problem although it left me very red in the face. I dropped my head and resumed sucking him gently while I milked and swallowed the rest of his cum.

We rested while he served us both a liqueur. We didn't feel the need to talk. It hardly needs saying that after half an hour he was ready to cap the evening with an honest to God fuck. And, honest to God, it was the best fuck of my life so far and if I ever have a better, I will be blessed indeed.

As I say Sunday also started with sex followed by breakfast, but then he took me for an off-road drive in his jeep higher into the Pyrenees. The views were breathtaking, and we had another session in a meadow of wildflowers. The afternoon followed the same pattern as the day before. Although he stripped when I did, he was totally focussed as he painted me, and I could see he was barely aroused by my naked body.

While he tidied away his paints and things, he provided me with a Kir for my aperitive. I was barely halfway through it when he went down on me. It was all I could do not to spill it and I had to put it down as he brought me to a stunning climax. Of course, I was duty bound as a good guest to return the favour and I enjoyed finishing my Kir with the flavour of his cum fresh in my mouth. Dinner of course was a little late, but delicious none the less. What a talented man!

At an early breakfast on Monday, he produced the finished painting and promised he would send it on to me as soon as he had it ready. It was more than good, a little flattering perhaps; explicit, it showed all my naughty bits, but still somehow tasteful. However, I wondered if I would ever have the nerve to get it framed and hang it.

He dropped me at Toulouse airport with a kiss in good time for my flight, and I made my connection through Paris with no problem. I checked into an airport hotel at Pearson and had what in different circumstances I might have considered a reasonably good meal, but for now I was too spoiled. My brother Brad would pick me up in the morning.

to be continued