Chapter 3: The French Connection 1980 and Beyond

Part 1: Life is too perfect

I had met Matt in early 1979, when I was still only 15, and we had begun a warm and loving relationship that was to last for nearly three years, although I did not know that at the time. Our early relationship withstood the problem of Laurent’s last visit to my home, and his usual annual objective to fuck me at least twice every day during his stay (a goal he achieved in all three years of his visits)

Laurent’s presence, in which time Matt took himself off for a wild, few weeks in Ibiza, had the advantage that it forced my parents to accept that I was going to sleep with Laurent in his bed every night. So, once he had gone and Matt was back on the scene, it was easy to just tell mum I was staying over at Matt’s. By the time the autumn school term finished at Christmas I was sleeping with Matt on at least three nights of the week – always Friday and Saturday, plus another school night (what would that do for my reputation if anyone at school found out!). I was also spending part of at least five days a week in their flat after school or at the weekend. The culture in the flat was one of no privacy – doors were opened without warning or left open afterwards – and I embraced the culture. I would walk around naked, when not in bed being fucked by Matt, sit and watch TV with the guys, discuss girly things with them and generally became their sexy little sister, as they described me to any visitors (and I did not worry about being naked in front of visitors after the first a couple of times).

The reason I was so comfortable with them was after the Giant Chef had one day pulled me on to his lap when were alone together (which was unusual and a bit scary) and gently explained that I would always be safe with him and the Third Man (my nicknames for the two of them) because they were both gay. Matt was not gay but had been their friend since they were all infants. In nine months, I had not realised they were gay. It made no difference to any of our relationships other than I now felt very comfortable physically cosying up to all of them, naked or clothed.

This perfect life lasted until I went to university in the autumn of 1981. But deep inside I knew it was not giving me what I wanted and needed – at least on occasion if not all the time, or so I thought. Over that winter of 1979/80 I found a solution.

Part 2: French lessons

I did some research and found that I could go to France for a few weeks in the summer to have a live-in immersion course in French. As I had decided to study French at university it was not difficult to persuade my parents, or Matt and the guys, that I should disappear for four weeks in August. Matt’s only concern was that I might be going to meet Laurent, but I reassured him I was not going to be any where near him and had not heard from him since the day we parted.

After a lot more research, I found a place with a married couple down in the Landes department in South West France, right beside the coast (very near where the mature me now lives). Pierre and Francine Gilbert offered a complete French speaking lifestyle to students, where you lived with them, had meals with them and explored French culture, locales, and social activities with them – but no English except in emergencies!

And so, at the beginning of August 1980, I did the long train journey to Bordeaux where Pierre Gilbert would meet me. I knew he was 55, good looking in a French sort of way, and an ex-school teacher; Francine was an artist. I had no idea what might happen but apart from the language experience I hoped something risky, thrilling and stimulating might happen.

That summer I was 17 and nearly as big as I was ever going to be. I was 5-2 tall, weighed 50 kilos and my breasts had now reached their maximum size and still only fitted into a 32A bra. I was still shaven but had just started to use hair removal cream in preference to a razor. I had filled out a little from the skinny 14-year-old who had fallen in love with a French boy, but now there were a few teenage curves around my hips and mons.

When I met Mr Gilbert at Bordeaux station, I was pleasantly surprised that he was more attractive than his photo suggested, and in the long drive down the Landes coast line between forests and sand dunes edging Atlantic Ocean, he proved extremely charming and entertaining. He chatted in faultless English all the way – although he assured me that starting tomorrow, we would be speaking French all the time.

He told me that they lived just under a kilometre from the beach, two thirds of a mile he explained, so walkable. The nearest beach was a nudist beach and quite busy in August but if I preferred it a bit quieter just go north a hundred metres and there would be less people, but still nudists and some interesting activities in the dunes, a point I just smiled at without really knowing what he meant. If I did not want to go a nudist beach just turn left and walk south for 200 metres and I would be in “textiles” territory. It never seemed to occur to him that I would not want to go to the nudist beach.

He also explained that he and Francine were actually nudists most of the time, but did not do it when they had students staying. However, as I was the only one staying would I prefer them not to or would it be OK? I thought briefly about it and then told him that I certainly did not object, and indeed I spent most of my time at home in England naked (not mentioning it was my boyfriend’s house where I did it.) He responded enthusiastically and said “Superb. If you want you can join us naked at home and at the beach and meet some of our friends who also prefer no clothes.”

So still 30 minutes to go and I already had an open invite to share my naked body with my hosts, with the general public and with their friends – It looked like I had already found my something stimulating – where would I find my risky and thrilling?

When we reached the beautiful little house Francine came out of the barn next to it, wiping her hands on an oily cloth, and wearing just a bikini bottom and a large man’s shirt that was completely unbuttoned. She came to us and started to do up her buttons but Pierre stopped her by saying “Nikki does not object and in fact is going to join us in the clothes free lifestyle! She does it at home it seems.”

With that they showed me to my small room, with a window overlooking a swimming pool, and Francine said dinner in an hour, before adding, “After your long journey just get your dirty clothes off and go for a swim – you don’t need a costume.” I dumped my big rucksack on the bed, sat down and thought about it for a minute and then, smiling to myself, I stripped down to my panties, hesitated for a second, and then also dropped them to the floor.

Stark naked, in a strange house with two people I had only just met, I walked down the stairs and just as I found the way into the garden, Francine appeared from the kitchen and said “Ah, good you are naked – go for your swim – I might join you in minute. Pierre is already in the pool.” I walked confidently down to the pool where a naked Pierre was sitting on the edge, dangling his feet in the water. I did not know what to say so just slipped into the water and started to do gentle lengths of the pool, sneaking looks at him as I did so. He was in good physical condition with a large fat penis dangling over two hairy balls – I realised he was the first naked man of his age I had ever seen, and I liked what I saw.

As I started to climb out of the water Francine appeared, also now completely naked. She was probably 5-8, so much taller than me, and probably 70 kilos, so heavier too, with short grey hair and piercing blue eyes, her breasts were full and hung down a bit but did not look “droopy”. Her mons and vagina were completely bald just like mine, with fleshy and protruding labia and clitoris, also like mine. I had never looked at a naked woman, apart from girls in the shower at school and I never looked closely at them. I knew she was 60, so a few years older than Pierre, who was sitting admiring both of us as we stood beside each other chatting. Finally, he could not resist saying “Two beauties but so different – we must take some photos together while you are with us.” I blushed and smiled; Francine just gave me a curious smile.

It was strange sitting naked on the terrace having a simple supper but an enjoyable one. They were a very attractive couple, and delightful company. At the end of the dinner, I made my apologies, a long day of travelling had left me exhausted and I needed to go to bed. They told me not to rush to get up tomorrow and not to bother with clothes if I did not want to – and no English from tomorrow onwards.

Part 3: The Dunes

For the next two days I worked hard on my French, forgetting my nudity if that was possible, and focused on coping with this difficult but very effective way of learning. At the end of my second full day Pierre said I needed a change of scenery and suggested that tomorrow afternoon he took me to the nudist beach to show me how it all worked. Just put a dress or something on to walk there and take a basket for towels, suncream, water, whatever you need Francine told me.

The next afternoon we set off for the 20-minute walk to the beach. I was only wearing a light summer dress, with string straps, that just reached below my buttocks, and sandals – nothing else. Pierre had a pair of shorts on. As we walked through the dunes he laughed and called out from behind me “Three days I have been admiring your naked body but walking behind you up this dune in that dress is the sexiest thing I have seen for ages”, and laughed at his own joke (was it a joke?) and I laughed back, enjoying his mild flirtation.

As we came out of the dunes the wide expanse of sand opened before us, already covered with lots of naked bodies of both sexes, of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Pierre immediately dropped his shorts and suggested I take the dress off too, which I did. We started to walk north through the various naked families and couples, the first time I had done anything like this, revelling in all the eyes that were following our progress.

As we moved along the beach the families stopped and it was just singles and couples, mostly men, and now I really felt the eyes looking at me and flushed a little from the feeling. Pierre explained that this was the quiet end of the beach, and as much happened in the dunes as on the beach. I did not understand what he meant so he just dropped the bag, took a large towel from it, then taking my hand, led me into the dunes. Several pairs of eyes certainly noticed this middle-aged man taking a young girl off the beach into the grassy dunes.

As we followed the path, I saw in every hollow there was a couple engaged in some kind of sexual activity, mostly pairs of men, but a few mixed couples and in one hollow a lone woman with several men around her. I tried to see what was happening so Pierre drew me closer to the group. I let out a little gasp of surprise as I saw her sucking one man’s cock while another was fucking her doggy style.

We stood watching for several minutes, as six men rotated their places around the woman. I was mesmerised, and did not notice Pierre had his arm round my waist, his hand resting on my hip. He was also gradually moving me closer to the action until we were standing right beside some of the men waiting their turns with the woman, erect and semi- erect penises on each side of me. I did not really know where to look first but focused most of my attention on the woman, suddenly feeling my pussy begin to leak on to my thighs, which I pushed together before anyone noticed.

As we stood there, I was concentrating so hard on the woman, that when Pierre’s hand slowly moved from my hip to my buttock, softly caressing my cheek I really did not notice. He moved his hand over to the other cheek, and began to squeeze and pull my cheek towards him, opening my bottom as he did so. When his finger suddenly touched my anus, I came out of my trance and half turned to push his hand away. “Seen enough?” he smirked, as he took my hand again and led me further into the dunes. I had no idea what was happening or why I was going with him, I just knew I was excited more than I could ever describe, but I was also scared stiff!

When we came to an empty hollow some way back from the beach, he stopped and spread the towel on the sand. He put his hands on my shoulders then lightly slid them down to my breasts which he slowly caressed circling around my areolae, before reaching my hard nipples. He gently pinched each one and pulled them towards himself, making me take a step or two into the centre of the towel. Now he put his hands back on my shoulders, gave me a light kiss on my lips, and firmly pushed me to my knees. Now I saw his penis was firm and erect and pointing straight at my mouth. He took a small step forward and the tip of his cock brushed my lips. A slight pressure from his hips and the head pushed against my lips which parted and he was now in my mouth.

I was so excited by everything that I had seen, and by watching the woman sucking one cock after another, that I was more than willing to take this thick weapon into my hungry mouth – and in any case I was attracted to Pierre.

At last, I moved, not to escape but to place my hands on his thighs and start to move my tongue around his cock head, before sliding my mouth up and down his rigid tool. Very quickly I was fully engaged in servicing this thick cock, holding his balls, stroking his bum, and pulling him into my willing and open throat, as he held my head and drove in deep. When he could hold out no longer his cock throbbed and I felt the cum rushing along its length to fill my waiting mouth.

I was elated that I had made this man cum so much like that, but as he stepped back, having finally finished ejaculating in me, I had no time to savour the moment. Before I could move, hands grabbed my head and another cock pushed its way in to my still cum-filled mouth. I gagged and choked as it was forced to the back of my mouth and into my throat – I was being face fucked by a man who knew what he wanted but I had no idea who he was. His cock forced the mouthful of cum back to my throat and I immediately started gagging, drooling, and dribbling saliva and cum out of my mouth each time he pulled back, and then gagged again as it forced its way in again. I thought he is going to kill me if he does this too long.

Suddenly I was conscious of someone new kneeling behind me, pushing my kneeling legs wide apart with their own, and a very rigid cock forcing its way between my thighs and up to my cunt. One firm push and it was in me and two hands came round me to grab my small breasts, pull my nipples and effectively give him two handles to grip to help him drive his cock into me. I was horrified to realise I was sopping wet, but my humiliation was complete when a voice in French behind me said “My God, she is so wet, she is ready for anything. You did well to bring her here today.”

The two men using me continued to pound my mouth and wet cunt for ages, until the man in my mouth suddenly pulled out. The one behind pushed me down in to a doggy position and, before I could collapse, they swapped ends and I was being spit-roasted. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pierre standing there, wanking his cock back to attention, talking to yet another man.

Thankfully the two guys both reached their climax at roughly the same time and I was filled with cum at both ends. But my torment did not end there, as Pierre now rammed his revitalised cock into my cum-dripping pussy and the fourth man did the same to my cum-covered mouth. Pierre and his new partner in crime fucked me at both ends for some time before they filled me again and let me collapse on the towel.

Gradually I pulled myself up into a sitting position and looked around. There was nobody there except Pierre who had our basket – he had obviously left me alone with the men while he fetched it. “What just happened?” I gasped through cum covered lips, “Who were those men?”

Part 4: Fuck slut revealed

Pierre came to sit on the towel next to me, gave me some water and put his arm round my shoulders, his hand playing with my nipple and his other hand fondling my messy pussy, and started to explain.

“When I met you for the first time I had a feeling about you, you were a girl who wanted adventure and something more primal. When you were open to the discussion of nudity, I became certain you had potential. After three days with you naked, seeing how you look at my cock and her pussy, I told Francine I was not going to wait to introduce you to the dunes. When I saw how you reacted to the woman being gangbanged, I knew you were ready for me and hopefully others. And it seems I was correct!” he laughed.

“Now you have earned a little reward my little angel.” He pushed me back on to the towel, laying me flat and opening my legs wide. His hand still tweaked my nipples, but the hand on my pussy began to work its magic as he masturbated me to a very fast and very big orgasm in which I squirted all over his hand and the towel. “You are going to be very popular here!”