“Hey, Mom, Michael’s folks have rented a gite in the South of France for two weeks. They have said I can go too if it is alright with you. You will let me go, won’t you?”
“Slow down a bit, Billy!” Mrs Villiers put down the tea towel and looked at her fourteen-year-old son. “Now tell me the full story from the beginning. Andrea Villiers knew Michael and his parents well. Billy and Michael had been friends since primary school.
Michael explained that his friend’s parents had booked a gite in the South of France between Cannes and Toulon on the Cote d’Azur. It was planned that they would stay there during the school holidays.
“Well, Billy, if you are quite sure that Mr and Mrs Anderson are happy for you to go, I can’t see why you shouldn’t. You have a passport so that’s not a problem. You’ll have to save your pocket money and you can go to the post office and change it into euros. I don’t want Pauline Anderson having to buy everything for you while you’re away.
Andrea helped her son pack his case for the holiday, making sure he had sufficient underwear and socks. “I don’t want Pauline having the unenviable job of having to wash your socks.”
Tom and Pauline Anderson with their son, Michael stopped their Ford Mondeo outside the Villiers and gave a short toot on the horn. It was not necessary because Billy was looking out of the window in eager anticipation. He was wearing a new t-shirt, new blue shorts and Nike training shoes. As he dashed to the door his mom asked him to check that his wallet with his euros was in a safe place and his passport was readily available for examination. Andrea kissed her son on the cheek and waved until the Mondeo disappeared from view.
The flight to Marseille took just over two hours. Tom Anderson went to pick up the Citroen car he had booked as part of the holiday package and before long they were cruising through the French countryside. The gite was in a tiny village where several of the old cottages had been converted to stylish holiday lets. Madame Blanche, the owner of a number of the gites, met them and showed them the layout. There was a complementary baguette, a block of local cheese and two bottles of vins de pays, one red and one white. Tom Anderson’s eyes lit up. “That’ll do me folks. French bread and cheese, washed down with a country wine. What more could you ask for?”
The gite was simply furnished in a rustic style. There were two bedrooms, one with a double bed and the other with two single beds. “I hope you two boys don’t mind sharing!” I Michael and Billy assured Pauline Anderson that they had no objections at all to sharing a room. The two boys had discovered the delights of their sexual development together as they had reached puberty. Sharing a bedroom could present some useful opportunities for experimentation. So far, their forays into sex had been comparing the sizes of their teenage cocks and mutual masturbation. While playing with their modestly sized dongles the boys liked to exchange dirty stories or talk about the girls they would like to fuck if they got the chance. However, at the age of fourteen sex with other boys was a more easily accessible outlet for their sex needs.
They didn’t go far on the first day. It was already mid afternoon when they arrived. They all walked around the village and noted that there was a boulangerie where they could buy fresh bread and a small café. As they hadn’t yet managed to purchase any provisions, they decided to have their evening meal at the café whose specialty was the local dish of cassoulet served with a chunk of home baked bread. The boys poked the stew suspiciously with their forks. Why didn’t these people have proper places to eat, such as a McDonald’s? Nevertheless, the local stew tasted better than they expected and soon they were using the bread to mop up the stew from the plates.
As they walked back to their gite they passed two tall dark-haired French lads walking in the opposite direction. They heard one say something about “Anglaise,” which made the other boy laugh.
“The buggers are talking about us!” Exclaimed Tom Anderson. “Bloody frogs!”
“Now, now Tom,” cautioned Pauline. “They are probably very nice boys.”
When they went to bed, the boys chatted and swapped jokes. “Shall I come over and get into bed with you?” Billy was gently stroking his half erect penis as he posed the question.
“Better wait until my mom and dad have gone to bed. They might look in to see if we are ok.”
The boys chatted quietly. The conversation concentrating on sex. “I have a cousin,” revealed Michael “who told me had bummed his best friend.”
“Bummed him?” Billy propped himself on one elbow. “Bummed him? What’s that?”
“Well,” explained Michael, “It means he put his prick in his friend’s bum and, you know, fucked him like you would do a girl.”
“Wow, that sounds neat. Should we try it Mike? We could take turns.”
“Yeah ok Billy. I’ll put my cock up you first then you can do me.”
Billy pondered his friend’s proposal. “How about me doing you first, then you can do me.” Billy put his hand down the back of his boxers and fingered his tiny, puckered hole. He was not at all sure it was large enough to accommodate his friend’s cock, even though Michael’s prick wasn’t all that much bigger than his own.
As it turned out, by the time Mr and Mrs Anderson turned in, both boys were fast asleep in their own beds. The long day’s travelling had taken its toll.
The following day, the first full day of their holiday, Pauline announced that she and Tom needed to go to a supermarket to get some groceries “That is, unless you want cassoulet for every meal!”
“Is it okay if Billy and I stay here, Mom?”
Pauline looked at Tom, who nodded his approval. “Okay boys, but don’t talk to any strange men and don’t leave the village. I don’t want to have to send out a search party.”
The boys watched the Citroen out of sight. “What do you want to do Billy?”
“How about having a look around the village then we’ll come back and do some bumming.”
“Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”
The two boys set off through the village. There were a few old men playing cards at a table outside the café otherwise the village seemed to be deserted. They were about to turn back to their gite when they saw a sign “La Plage.” It pointed along a narrow track between two cottages.
“Hey, lets go and take a look Billy.”
“What is it Mike?”
“La Plage. It means beach. The sea must be close. We could check it out and maybe come down for a swim later.”
The boys quickened their pace and headed down the track, which eventually came out at some dunes. They could see the Mediterranean Sea in the distance. “Wow! This looks great. We could bring a picnic here and go for a swim. It’ll be warm in the Med. Hey look, Billy. It’s those two boys that we saw in the village yesterday.”
Two slim, dark haired boys were stretched out on beach towels in the sand. At first glance they appeared to be naked, but a closer look revealed that both boys wore the tiniest black thongs that closely resembled the eye patches favoured by pirates. Both boys were well tanned. The French boys looked up as they heard Billy and Michael approach.
“Comment tu t’appelles?” one of the boys called.
“Je m’appelle Michael. Mon ami c’est Billy. Et-tu?”
“Je m’appelle Jean Paul, et mon copain c’est Pierre.
Pierre and Jean Paul stood up and approached the two English boys and Pierre made a rude gesture by making a ring with his left thumb and index finger and used the index finger of his right hand for an in and out motion. “You fuck, yes?”
The other French boy laughed and said in English “No sex please, we’re British”
Both French boys fell about laughing at the joke. Michael and Billy blushed at the blunt introduction but were intrigued with the suggestion. The French youths indicated that Michael and Billy should join them.
“Viens avec nous.” Pierre beckoned the lads and led them to a hollow in the dunes about 20 metres from the track.
“I think we are a bit over dressed for sun bathing,” Billy confided to Michael. Both lads stripped off to their brief underwear which still looked enormous compared to the skimpy bits of cloth worn by the French boys.
Pierre grinned at the two English boys. “You like this?” He asked the question as he rolled onto Jean Paul and kissed him deeply on the lips. Michael and Billy watched the two French boys in amazement. To see two boys kiss each other was completely new to them. Pierre broke away from his lover and looked again at the British boys. “English no kiss huh? What’s wrong?”
Michael and Billy looked at each other sheepishly. Billy sighed, “When in Rome do as the Romans do, I guess.” He took hold of Michael and gave him an open-mouthed kiss. As they kissed their hands groped each other through the thin cotton of their underwear. When they broke away to take a breath, they looked over at their new French friends who were now completely nude. The small triangle that had been concealed by the eye patches was a shade lighter than the rest of their lithe, tanned bodies. Both boys had long, uncut cocks with a patch of jet-black hair.
“When in France, do as the French,” paraphrased Michael as he slipped off his pants. Seconds later Billy followed suit. It felt liberating to be naked in the sand dunes.
Pierre and Jean Paul, gave a muted round of applause. “Bravo! Tres bien!”