Date: Thu, 11 Apr 2024 08:15:08 +0200 (CEST)
From: phillippelepervert@tutamail.com
Subject: Fucking the French, Chapter 1

Dearest readers,
Please enjoy my new story series, Fucking the French. If you like it, I
would appreciate an encouraging message sent my way at
phillippelepervert@tutamail.com. Your feedback is crucial to keeping the
muses in a state of arousal.

As usual, please consider this story a pure fantasy. Warning, it contains
incest, underage sex, and French people. Please do not fuck your kids, no
matter how much they beg.
Cheers,
Phillippe
(M/B ,M/G, M/M, M/W, W/B, W/G, W/M, W/W, B/B, G/G, B/G)


Fucking the French
Chapter One
by
Phillippe Le Pervert


"Dad! Look, boobs!"

My boy Joey was leaning in and whispering to me urgently in his lovely
high soprano voice.

I followed his gaze out the lobby windows to see that the boobs in
question belonged to a busty blond German woman who, having completed
check-in ahead of us, had immediately pulled off her top as soon as she
had stepped out of the lobby's glass doors and into the courtyard. She
was soon stripping out of her shorts while encouraging her young daughter
to follow suit, which the pig-tailed towhead, after a moment's
hesitation, began to do as well. The family's equally blond dad and son
guffawed for a second before dad pulled off his tee shirt and whipped off
his shorts, yanking them over his trainers. His large suntanned cock
swung between his legs as he smiled and threw his clothes over his
shoulder. His son followed suit, and soon the whole deeply tanned family
was in nothing but their shoes. They were clearly glad to be at Soleil et
Sable.

We were checking into one of the largest naturist resorts in France that
July Saturday morning, a first for both Joey and me. I realized that this
was the first time Joey had seen a pair of naked tits in real life, and I
put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"You're going to see lots of those, son. Get used to it."

Joey looked up at me, his full deep pink lips breaking into a mischievous
smile, blue eyes shining. I ran my hand up the closely cropped back of
his head and tousled the thick long blond hair that hung down from the
crown across his eyes in bangs. The pretty teenage girl in the resort
polo behind the desk looked up at me with a welcoming smile and I stepped
up to check in.

"Jeff and Joey Hanson, we have reserved a cabin for six weeks" I
pronounced in the French I'd learned as an exchange student. We were
really going to live our nudist summer fantasy.

*    *    *

I used the gate pass that had been given to me to drive into the resort
in the little Fiat convertible I'd rented in Bordeaux. The first thing we
came to was a traffic circle with a green hillock in the middle,
featuring a statue of a bronze family, mother, father, daughter, nude in
the sun. They reminded me of the Germans from the check in.

As I crawled along in the car, careful to keep the 15km speed limit,
following the resort map to our cabin that I had spread out in my lap, we
drove past plenty of people going about their holiday: walking to the
beach or market, riding their bikes, sunning themselves in front of their
houses, mobile homes, campers, and tents. The sole remarkable thing about
it was that they were nude. Joey swung his head back and forth, eyes
popping out, to take it all in. I smiled to myself. He'd have to learn
how not to stare.

The seaside landscape was covered with high umbrella pines that provided
a nice mixture of shade and sun, and the light dappled as we turned off
the main road onto the narrow little asphalt side streets that made up
the various residential sections of the massive complex. Six thousand
residents could be accommodated across more than a hundred acres of
oceanfront land. It was a warm and sunny day, verging on hot, and the
cool green vegetation gave the feeling of driving through a park. Off to
the west I could see the line of the sand dunes that separated the resort
from the beach and protected it from the wind blowing in off of the Bay
of Biscay.

Our cabin was a simple affair, one story, a rectangular box in pine with
a large wooden patio attached, complete with several lounge chairs and an
outdoor table under a canvas awning. On one corner was an outdoor shower.
The entrance was a double French door. I parked the tiny car and we got
out, Joey looking at me excitedly. As I went around to the trunk to start
unloading our luggage, a young boy of maybe seven, hair the brown of a
chocolate Labrador and deeply tanned head to toe, rode by on a bicycle,
unashamedly scoping out the new neighbors. Joey gave him a head nod,
international sign of boy-to-boy recognition, which the lad returned
before riding off. No doubt he was on the lookout for potential new
playmates in the neighborhood.

It had been a long trip to the coast of France -- overnight from Miami to
Paris, then the early morning TGV to Bordeaux, picking up the car at the
station, and driving an hour to the seaside. But both Joey and I had
slept on the flight - thank god for the sleeper seats in first class -
and we were excited to finally be on our first visit to a nudist resort.
It was early afternoon, and my goal was to keep myself and the boy awake
until at least 10 PM so that we could start to acclimatize to the local
time zone.

We carried our bags up onto the porch and I got out the keys. I heard the
sound of footsteps and looked up to see an older couple walking down the
road. The woman waved a friendly wave. Both were as tanned as beef jerky,
true sun worshipers. I waved back and told Joey to do the same. He's a
polite boy but sometimes he needs a little prompting.

Inside the cabin, the layout was simple. There was a large central room
that was both a living room with a long, comfortable-looking couch and
two fabric-covered arm chairs at one end and kitchen at the other, with a
dining table in the middle. On each end of the cabin was a hallway that
led to a bathroom with shower, and beyond it, identical bedrooms, though
one was set up with a double bed and the other with two bunk-beds. It was
obviously arranged for parents at one end and kids at the other. But
since Joey slept with me, we threw all the luggage onto the lower bunk
beds to use that room as storage.

"What should we do first" the boy asked, looking at me with some anxiety.
He'd been a bit worried about what life would be like in a nudist
village. Well, there was nothing to do but dive right in.

"I'd suggest we get naked."

Joey smiled at me and started to lift his shirt. I'd done that annoying
thing and dressed us alike for the long trip, in navy Lacoste polo shirts
and khaki shorts. But while I wore leather boat shoes with invisible
socks and a large Omega watch, Joey was in his Converse high tops, his
favorite shoes, his little plastic Smart watch on one narrow wrist. I
indulged my boy and he owned more than forty pairs of high tops in
different designs -- I'd had to limit him to bringing only three pair.
The ones he was wearing were camouflage in various shades of blue.
Without taking the shoes off, he dropped his shorts to the floor and
wiggled his feet out. He then put one hand against the wall for balance
and pulled off the little white cotton briefs he was wearing, while I did
the same, shimmying out of my own poly-blend boxer briefs.

I'm not bragging when I say that my boy is beautiful. I'd planned it that
way -- the Ukrainian woman whose eggs I purchased to mix with my sperm
and be carried by a surrogate was stunning, and as she was a highly paid
sex worker I can tell you that wasn't just my opinion. Joey had some of
the physical traits of his donor mother -- his face was a pretty round
oval shape, his hair was a bright shade of blond, unlike my darker brown,
and he had the long limbs and neck that she had, accented by his boyish
state of development. We shared the same cornflower blue eyes, the same
snub nose, wide smile, stick-out ears and dimpled chin, and the same
mesomorphic body type -- anyone could see we were father and son. Joey,
like me at his age, wasn't skinny, but he didn't have an ounce of baby
fat on him. He had a naturally large bone structure for his age, set off
by the fine slimness of youth. He'd be eleven in a few weeks, passing his
birthday while we were at Soleil, as it was usually called. I'd had to
promise him a belated birthday party with his friends at home at the end
of the summer to placate him over missing it.

Joey participated in four sports and did them all with great energy. He
wrestled, did gymnastics, and also participated in team swimming and
diving. His schedule was as full as a CEO's with practice and matches. I
volunteered to coach his wrestling team, having been a state champ in my
weight class in high school, and spent a great deal of time playing
chauffeur and sports dad to him otherwise. Because of his athleticism,
Joey's body was extremely well developed for his age. He was easily more
muscular than 95% of ten-year-old boys. This showed in his well developed
shoulders and chest (crowned with his slightly puffy dark pink nipples),
his perfectly defined torso with eight pack abs of the kind adult
bodybuilders worked slavishly to have,  and his high, well muscled,
nearly circular ass. He still had the delicately skinny arms and legs of
a prepubescent boy, but his thighs were growing wider, and over the next
few years he'd no doubt shoot up and develop into a large and well built
young man.

I can take some of the credit for that. I'm a huge guy, 6'3 and 260
pounds. That weight is muscle -- I've been obsessed with lifting weights
since I wasn't much older than Joey. When I was young and foolish, I'd
done rounds of steroids to build bulk, but since I decided to become a
father I gave it up. I didn't need my son orphaned by his 40-year-old
father dropping dead of a heart attack. I maintained my body naturally
now, which meant I spent an hour almost every day pushing iron in our
home gym and another in some form of cardio. As a result, I'm the kind of
dude who often gets dismissed as a gym rat, though I'd like to think that
the last thing I am is a meathead. I keep my hair shortly cropped and had
long ago had any hair on my chest and butt lasered off permanently, so
that I was smooth except for my pits, well trimmed bush, and hairy legs
and arms. I had a beard, which I kept short and trimmed, and which hadn't
yet started to turn gray, though I expected it would soon enough. All in
all, I'm not lying if I say that my appearance is what usually passes as
hyper-masculine in our society. I also get constantly hit on by women and
gay men who love the thought of being under a mountain of muscle my size.
Sorry girls, I'm already taken.

As Joey stripped out of his underwear, the biggest immediate problem we
both had presented itself. We had a pool at home, and in it, Joey always
wore the tight speedo briefs that he also wore for the swimming and
diving teams. I wore the same, and we regularly spent hours in the sun in
nothing but our budgie smugglers. As a result, we are both very deeply
tanned for how naturally light-skinned my son and I are -- our bodies are
the color of honey from the Florida sun. That is, except for the two
triangles across our groins and asses, front and back, and the narrow
strips across our hips usually covered by our negligible suits. Those
areas were blindingly white, as pale as a summer moon, and were going to
absolutely roast in the abundant sunshine. I went into the spare bedroom
and rooted around in my suitcase until I found the small container of
SPF90 lotion I'd brought along. Usually I would never use such a strong
level of protection, but the glaring white orbs of Joey's ass, not to
mention my own, required special attention. As I walked back into the
living room, Joey was standing in nothing but his high tops, cupping his
genitals.

"Dad, I've got a problem" he announced, and removed his hands. His cock,
fully erect, shot up towards the ceiling. The boy was hard as granite.

"Well, let's take care of it" I replied kindly, stepping up and pulling
the curtains shut over the double glass doors. I sat down in one of the
two armchairs in the living room area. Joey followed me over and I
scooted forward to sit on the edge of the soft cushion, opening my legs
up wide. My boy stepped up between my knees so that his boned-up peen was
right in front of me. I leaned over and, starting at the base, right
above his tight, still un-dropped, ball-sack, I licked the whole
underside of his shaft. Then I skinned back his tight foreskin so that
his purplish mushroom tip popped out, and licked his head, then sucked it
into my mouth. Joey's cock is slim, as you'd expect on a boy his age, the
skin softer than velvet. it's plenty long for a ten-year-old (almost four
inches erect), and when he gets hard, which is so often as to almost
qualify as his default state, it is as rigid as a zeppelin. As I sucked
it into my mouth, I ran my tongue up the underside in the way he loves
and my boy gave me a satisfied sigh.

So yeah, at this point, it should be clear that I have sex with my son. I
love boys, and my boy loves his daddy, and I take care of him in every
way -- physically, emotionally, financially, and sexually. I'm a great
dad, and I consider part of being a great dad to be satisfying my son's
sexual needs, teaching him to pleasure himself and to give pleasure, and
eradicating the sick hangups about sex that our society jams into kids
from a young age. Joey has never known the oppression of sexual guilt or
shame, and he never will. I'd cut my own cock off before I'd hurt my boy,
but the insane proposition that sex is something awful, secretive and
sinful is something I'd decided to roundly reject in my own life and in
how I raise my son. We played all kinds of games together, and some of
them involved getting naked and making each other cum. In my book, that's
exactly how the world should be. Go ahead and hate me, I truly don't give
a fuck. As for Joey, if you were to tell him that the fun he had with his
father was something terrible and that he was a victim who should feel
awful about it, he'd probably laugh at you and stick out his tongue. My
boy brooks no bullshit, and my goal as a father is to make sure he never
falls susceptible to the lies that sad, repressed losers tell themselves
to make up for their own boring, meaningless lives.

Speaking of cock, by this point I was of course erect myself. My dick is
seven inches of thickness, not porn star huge but plenty big, and it was
pointing straight out between my tanned thighs. I reached down and
started to stroke myself with one hand while the other played with Joey's
balls. This wasn't a lazy Sunday morning lovemaking session of the kind
Joey and I regularly had, but a quick nut urgently needed so my boy could
settle down and make himself presentable in public in his birthday suit.
I stroked myself quickly while I sucked Joey with gusto. My own
meat-stick is circumcised, since that was the thing my clueless
middle-American parents thought you were supposed to do to boys when I
was born, so I ran my finger up and down across my scar and my exposed
head to work it hard and fast. Joey's breathing fell a register as it
does when he gets into the orgasm trance.

Joey was now thrusting his hips up, pushing his cock urgently in and out
of my mouth as my tongue worked it from every angle. It had been more
than a day since either of us had cum - Joey had wanted to join the
mile-high club but it had been far too risky, even for a father and son.
I knew he'd nut at any moment and increased the stroke on my dick.
Jacking off dry isn't my favorite thing, but horned up by the
circumstance, I was almost there.

Joey let out a grunt that sounded cute as hell in his high boy's voice,
and the next thing I knew his cock was leaping with shuddering
convulsions in my mouth. My boy is too young to seed yet, but he cums
hard even if he cums dry. I looked forward to the day I'll be able to
taste his warm, salty nectar, but the thought also fills me with
melancholy. If I could freeze my son at ten-almost-eleven, I'd do so in a
flash. What parent wouldn't?

Joey's stiff member settled in my mouth and I reached down with my
non-stroking hand to give my fat, low-hanging sack a squeeze. My balls
are quite massive, like two tangerines in a sack, and a nice gentle tug
on them often does the trick. It did this time, and my thick, abundant
spunk released itself from captivity, splattering across the shiny wooden
floor of the cabin with an audible splash.

"Dad!" Joey exclaimed with a ring of disappointment, "you jizzed on my
high tops!"

Sure enough, a thick stream of my tasty sauce had landed across the side
of Joey's right shoe and up his calf, the other shots splayed out across
the floor between his legs.

"Take them off and wash them in the sink right now" I told the boy.

"But I wanted to wear them!"

"We're going to the beach, wear your low tops." Joey had also brought two
pair of low-top canvas Converse that he wore sockless on things like
beach excursions and around the yard.

"OK, but you need to buy me a new pair of high tops." The boy was hardly
a master manipulator, but he took any opportunity to get his way. I
slapped him playfully on his naked white ass and he broke out into a
laugh. "Wash your shoes and join me in the shower. We shouldn't go out
our first time smelling like sweat and cum."

*     *     *

The resort, more of a small town, was about a mile wide and nearly as
deep, with one long side of its rectangle on the ocean and the other on
the public road outside the gates. The middle of the rectangle was taken
up with public accommodations -- the front gate, the entrance lobby and
various other buildings, including a library and an outdoor auditorium.
Then there were sports fields and a playground. Towards the ocean, down a
main drag that bisected the property, was a rectangle of buildings that
contained the various businesses of a village. There was two small
grocery stores, one a chain and the other a higher end organic place.
There was a bookstore, a hairdresser, a bike shop, a bakery of course,
and several restaurants, everything from a takeout place with a long
counter open to the square, up to relatively fancy sit down joints whose
menus included fresh seafood and market dishes. There was a
merry-go-round and a snack bar in the center of this village square.
West of this facility, tucked right inside the line of dunes, there was
another large restaurant with a sprawling outdoor seating area that
turned into a night club and performance space in the evenings. Next to
it was the larger of the resort's two pool complexes, the one known as
the Lagoon --  a massive amoeba-shaped swimming pool with a couple of
islands, one reached by a small bridge. It had a ramp of water slides
that ended in a shallow basin, some narrow river-like passages behind the
islands, and a smaller, separate space for the youngest children. It was
a typical resort pool area, populated by folks tanning themselves on
lounges or towels laid across the concrete skirt. We walked past this
complex, surrounded by a low wooden fence, on the way to the beach.

Joey was worried about getting erections in public, something that had
preoccupied him since we'd planned the trip. I'd explained to him that if
it did happen he simply should wrap his ample beach towel around his
waist, or lay on his stomach if he was on the beach or in the sunbathing
area around the pool. He understood it in theory but he was still quite
nervous, and as we walked past a pair of lithe, tanned young teenage
girls, walking nonchalantly in nothing but jelly shoes and whispering
secretively to each other, I watched my boy carefully. Joey hadn't
expressed much interest in girls so far, beyond enjoying watching some
heterosexual porn with me from time to time, but live naked girls were a
new thing to him. He'd grown up around dicks, his dads and his own, and
while he was certainly a cockhound by both inclination and education, I
wondered if these young females would stir something new in him. He
followed them with his bright blue eyes, but his dick stayed at rest and
he then turned back to watch an elderly man with a remarkably skinny dark
brown body pass us, his pubes as white as snow.

Past the beach restaurant the asphalt ended and we walked up the sandy
road towards the top of the dunes. On the right was a sprawling lifeguard
station, complete with tower and a rank of bright red rescue surfboards
and kayaks. As we crested the dune, on the left was a cute little shack
that, according to its sign, sold juices, coffees, and snacks. Behind the
counter, a handsome woman in her thirties gave us a friendly smile, her
large breasts perky with huge areolas. Next to her two deeply tanned
young boys were helping out - the younger one, maybe seven, was reaching
into a cooler to remove some popsicles for a waiting customer, while the
older boy, around twelve, was preparing a fruit concoction in a blender.
It was clearly a family enterprise.

The road split into two directions, both leading down the the beach. It
was a wide, flat beach, and judging from those already out in the water,
shallow for quite a way out. Joey and I walked across the hot sand and
down to the water's edge. On either side of us, people were setting up
for an afternoon on the sand, putting out towels, umbrellas and chairs.
Joey slipped out of his shoes and ran out into the water. The waves were
small and he splashed out, running and kicking in the shallow saltwater,
his gorgeous white ass glimmering in the sun. I'd slathered both our
private bits with tons of the thick high protection cream, but a sunburn
was still a possibility.

My son soon grew tired of splashing alone in the cool Atlantic. He needed
to make friends with other kids if he was going to enjoy himself, and
this early in the afternoon the beach was still just filling up. "Let's
go to the pool" I offered, and my boy beamed at me with a smile.

Back at the Lagoon, we entered through the unisex locker room, putting
our shoes into a cubby on a long wall built for the purpose before taking
the obligatory shower. Walking out into the sun, the first thing I
noticed was a lifeguard tower occupied by a stunningly handsome teenage
boy, his eyes peeled over the water. He looked like any deeply tanned
lifeguard, with his baseball cap to shade his eyes and his tight-fitting
white resort polo shirt. The only thing setting him apart was that he was
naked from the waist down, and a truly impressive fat cock lay between
his tanned thighs, its head resting against the towel he'd laid down
across the lifeguard seat. I felt the inclination to start drowning.

The pool area was full of people now, of every type and size. They were
mostly European and thus mostly white, but there were some darker bodies
as well. They ran the gamut from blindingly untanned (I shuddered to
think of the sunburn that might be happening) to deep copper from the
sun. At least half of the folks in the area were kids of all ages, sexes
and sizes.

Joey immediately wanted to take to the slides, so I indulged him. We
climbed up the staircase and shot straight down over and over again until
we grew dizzy with the exertion. My son doesn't tire out easily, but with
the jet lag, I could see that he was starting to struggle, and I coaxed
him to swim over with me to one of the little islands in the middle of
the pool, which were surrounded by underwater concrete benches where you
could sit quietly and enjoy the sun and water. I leaned back against the
concrete pool wall as Joey practiced holding his breath in front of me,
or did loops under water by swinging his arms.

I heard a commotion and across from us three boys walked into the pool
area, their bodies still glistening from the shower. It was instantly
apparent that all three were brothers. There were the physical
characteristics -- they all had the same thick dark brown, almost black
hair. They also, all three, had the same lanky, slim but not skinny
bodies. If Joey and I were tanned the color of honey, these three were
bronzed caramel, and unlike us they had only the slightest hint of tan
lines. They clearly spent most of their time in the sun as nude as could
be. Only the white lines of sandal straps across the tops of all three of
their feet and the flashes of paler skin from deep between their legs and
ass cheeks revealed the color they would be without the sun.

The oldest boy was a teenager, maybe 14. He was taller than the middle
boy by a good six inches, clearly in a growth spurt. He was developing
nicely with the hard body of a young athlete, maybe a soccer player or
swimmer. He had a nice, tightly muscled chest, rippling abs, and a killer
ass above the ridiculously long legs of a boy his age. Like his brothers,
he had a sharp, shovel-shaped face with a strong jawline, pillowy full
lips, and a long Gallic nose that separated a pair of stunning green
eyes. But the most remarkable thing about his young body was the
oversized tube of teen boyhood that hung between his slim thighs, thick
as a sausage in a butcher's window. That truly impressive hose sprouted
from a small bush of dark hair that had been trimmed back carefully, the
same way I trimmed my own. His balls, a fat brace that hung down not
quite even with the tip of his flopping dick, were hairless, as was his
ass.

The middle boy was a smaller version of his big bro, maybe 12. He had a
similar body, though hairless and slimmer, his abs even more well
defined. His cock was proportionally large as well but obviously quite a
bit smaller than his adolescent brother -- though in its flaccid heft it
showed similar potential for growth. Like his brother he had large brown
nipples, and his were particularly puffy and suckable. His longish
straight hair was hanging in his eyes, like his older brother's thick
bangs, but wasn't shorn short on the sides and back and instead covered
his ears, no small feat since all three clearly had rather prominent,
stick-out ears, a trait I personally love.

The youngest boy was button-cute, his compact little body showing none of
the signs of approaching puberty. He was without a trace of fat but had a
somewhat less angular torso, with a gentle curve from his shoulders to a
spectacularly plush ass. His belly button stuck out further than his two
brothers, and if anything his bronze tan was even deeper than theirs. His
face, set off by his closely cropped hair, was in perpetual smile as he
looked up admiringly at the older boys. But younger brothers should know
better than to trust their older siblings, and as the youngster turned
around, it was clear that the two older boys, currently smirking at each
other, had played a trick on him. Across the youngest boy's back there
was a fat white line of what I assumed was thick waterproof sun cream,
given that it had apparently not washed off in the shower. The cream had
probably been applied as the boy had napped in the sun, and was simple in
its design. The older brothers had drawn an erect cock and balls on their
younger brother's back, and if he didn't wash it off soon he might soon
have a rather interesting new tan line. As I stared at the design, the
oldest boy looked over at me, saw me gawking, and smiled a naughty
conspiratorial smile.

"Dad, they wrote a cock on his back!" Joey exclaimed with typical boyish
enthusiasm.

"Yes they did, son."

"Ha! That's funny! I wonder why they did that."

"As a joke I'm sure. Be glad you don't have older brothers." In fact,
brothers was the one thing Joey wanted that I wasn't comfortable giving
him.

As we both watched, the middle boy took advantage of his younger
brother's inattention to push him rudely into the pool. From the
lifeguard station a shrill whistle blew, and the hot teen lifeguard
pointed to his eye and then at the brothers, letting them know that he
was watching them. The middle boy shrugged with a "what, me? insouciance
and then leapt into the water, followed by his older brother.

"Hey Joey" I spoke softly, to get his attention. "Why don't you go over
and wipe the lotion off that boy's back? We don't want him getting a tan
line in that shape."

"Sure" my boy replied eagerly. He always wanted to help, and he despised
bullying and picking on smaller kids. He swam across to where the three
boys were bobbing in the water. As he approached the youngest boy started
to lift himself out at the pool's edge, and Joey followed suit. As soon
as they both stood, Joey reached out with the unthinking physical contact
young boys so often display with each other and smeared the thick
waterproof cream evenly over the other boy's back. The boy looked at him
with surprise and said something, to which Joey looked puzzled -- no
doubt the three brothers spoke something other than English. I had been
teaching Joey French from a young age and frequently spoke it at home
with him, even showing him kids television in the language, and as I
watched he and the youngest brother started to talk to each other,
clearly struggling a bit to communicate. After a moment, Joey bent over
and, using some of the water that they were dripping onto the cement,
drew out a figure. I can only imagine it was the cock and balls that had
adorned the youngster's back. The boy turned to his brothers and yelled
an incomprehensible accusation at them, his angry expression adorable on
his cute little face. The two older boys laughed, and the oldest splashed
water out of the pool, hitting the younger boy and Joey. The youngest
brother then stuck out his middle finger at the two boys, turned back to
Joey and talked with him for a moment, then stalked off towards the water
slides, clearly exasperated with his siblings. Joey slipped back into the
pool as the two older brothers watched the interloper from the water. I
saw the oldest boy give my son a friendly nod, as if you indicate that it
was all in good fun.

Joey swam over and sat next to me on the underwater bench.

"Dad! I spoke French!"

"Did you? With that boy?"

"Yeah! At first I didn't understand him but then he asked me where I was
from and I knew that and said America!"

"You had your first conversation with an actual French person. Well done,
son."

"Yeah, but I didn't know the words for cock and balls, so I had to draw
it for him."

I chuckled, and told him I'd teach him all the dirty words when we got
back to the cabin.

*    *    *

We made it until 9PM. After picking up a pizza at the pizzeria in the
village commercial center, Joey and I had wandered back to the cabin,
both of us yawning from jetlag and too much sun, struggling to keep
awake. We sat at the outdoor table as the light grew softer, the sun
dipping below the seafront dunes, nodding and saying hello to neighbors
who came by -- couples on the evening stroll, people walking their dogs,
kids mostly on bikes. As evening grew in, many folks put on some clothes,
and some even dressed up to have a meal at one of the restaurants, where
clothing was apparently the social norm at night. But enjoying the warm
summer evening, Joey and I felt no need to cover up and instead enjoyed
our nakedness. It was novel, but it felt totally natural to us. After
all, we spent much of our time at home in the nude.

After we'd showered in the dusk, we went in and I put a show on for Joey
to watch on my laptop with his headphones on while I read for a while
next to him on the couch. Within an hour, my boy's head was drooping, so
I shut the laptop, took off his headphones, and picked him up, carrying
him into the bedroom. He was getting big enough that it was work, lifting
and carrying him, but I regularly dead lift 300 pounds, so it wasn't a
big deal. I cuddled his ass under my hand and his cock was pressed
against my hip, his head on my giant pec. I pulled back the covers with
my one free hand and laid him gently on the bed. After a piss and
brushing my teeth, I climbed in beside my boy and snuggled up against
him. We were spooning on our right sides, which was how we usually went
to sleep. Joey's skin was still warm from the day's sun, and it was the
last thing I felt as I was out seconds after my head hit the pillow.

I woke up at 4AM, an effect of the time change. Joey was still out cold
so I got up, slipped into a pair of compression shorts and a sweatshirt
against the pre-dawn chill, and strapped on my running shoes and the
headlamp I had thought to bring in case we needed to walk the unlit
streets of the resort at night. I headed out into the dark and ran back
to the main street then turned towards the front gate. At the gate I
turned and followed the perimeter road south to the corner of the resort,
then west towards the ocean. There was a service trail that ran up
through the pines and led over the dunes. Then I turned and ran along the
beach, past the northern edge of the resort, all the way to the nearby
textile beach town a mile away, with its waterfront promenade lit up even
at this hour. The eastern sky was lightening by the time I made it back
down the beach, this time cutting in at the northern perimeter of the
resort and making my way back through the quiet streets. There was one
older man out walking in the dawn light, naked but for his trainers, his
low-dangling balls slapping against his wrinkled thighs with every step.
At the commercial center a work truck was making an early delivery to a
sleepy-eyed baker at the bakery, which smelled heavenly as I passed. It
was a deeply peaceful run.

Back at the cabin, I stripped as quietly as possible in the living room,
not wanting to wake my sleeping son. I crept into the bedroom to check on
him, and to my surprise as soon as I slipped through the door he sat up
straight in bed. "Dad?" he asked, no sleep in his voice.

"I'm here, Joey. I just went for a run.""

The light was still very weak, and with the blinds down, it was almost
non-existent. I lifted one of the blinds a few inches to let in some
light, then stepped up and looked down at my boy from the edge of the
bed.

"I'm super awake now. It's weird."

"That's the time change, son. You'll be waking up early for a while."

"Are you still sweaty, dad?"

"Very. I haven't taken a shower yet."

"Good." With that, my boy crawled over to the edge of the bed and buried
his face in my crotch, inhaling deeply, his nose in my pubes. Joey loved
me when I was sweaty, he loved the smell, the salty taste. He breathed
in, and then opened his mouth and sucked in the head of my still-flaccid
cock. It didn't stay that way, and by the time he'd licked up and down
the underside of my shaft, I was at full mast. My boy looked up at me,
and even in the shadowed hollows of his face in that dim light, I knew
there was lust in his lovely blue eyes. With a practiced motion, he
opened his mouth wide and swallowed me down the the root, breathing
carefully through his nose. Joey was a very experienced cocksucker but it
still surprised me that he managed to get me all the way down like that,
his throat bulging with my thickness. With focused concentration, my boy
started bobbing up and down on my dick, while his small hands tugged
expertly at my balls and worked my lower shaft on the upstroke.

"Fuck, son. Oh, fuck. That feels so good. Oh fuck. Suck your daddy's
dick, boy."

"Mmmm" Joey hummed. He knew how much I loved when he showed his
enthusiasm. "So yummy..." he murmured as he briefly took my tip from his
mouth. "It tastes so good daddy." Joey's own fuckstick was now sticking
straight up from between his legs as he knelt on the bed. He spared one
hand to start stroking himself. After a second, he pulled off of my cock
and looked up at me with a question on his face.

"Dad..."

"Yes, son?"

"Can I, like..."

"What is it, boy?"

"You know how at home you said I shouldn't do sex stuff with other boys?"
It was a rule that I'd laid down for Joey when he was eight and had been
caught blowing one of his little friends during a sleepover by the other
boy's mom. It had led to some awkward questions. Luckily, I'd trained my
boy well and he had claimed that he'd gotten the idea from 'something
another boy showed me on his phone'. I knew that it wasn't going to last,
my ban on sex outside our little family, but so far Joey had followed the
rules, as had I.

"Yes, son?"

"Does that also mean in France?" I looked down at my horny spawn, holding
my hard dick in his hand and looking up at me with expectation.

"Well, I haven't thought about it. I'll tell you what. If you think you
want to do sex play with another kid, how about you talk with me about it
and we can think over the situation. OK?"

A look of concentration crossed my boy's face as he thought about it.
Then he nodded. "OK dad." With that, my cock went back in his mouth, he
went back to work, and within seconds I could feel the cum churning in my
hefty ballsack.

"I'm almost there son" I groaned "Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh Fuck!!!!!!" I
leaned my head back and felt my sap rise and shoot down its long tube.
Joey pulled back until only my head was in his mouth and sealed his lips
around the top of my shaft so that all of my five fat squirts landed
squarely on his tongue or coated the roof of his mouth. As my load
petered out, he leaned back, keeping his lips closed to hold in the
contents, and stood up on the bed so he was the same height as me, then
leaned forward. My son kissed me deeply, sliding his cum-slicked tongue
into my mouth to share my load back with me in style. Then he swallowed
what was left, as I'd taught him to do long ago. He took a step back,
sighed, thrust out his belly comically and gave it a satisfied rub. "The
breakfast of champions!" he declared in a mock enthusiastic voice. Joey
is an irrepressible ham. I crawled up onto the bed and grabbed him as he
giggled wildly and wrestled him into the sheets. We were both wide awake
even though it was barely six AM, so we wrestled around for a good
quarter hour, laughing and enjoying the touch of each other's bodies,
until I picked up my boy and carried him into the shower. We stood under
the large rain-style shower head, relaxing in our post-sex bliss. Joey
turned and pissed into the corner of the shower, as he usually did at
home in the morning, and then I soaped up his hard little body, also a
habit of ours.

"Son, was there anyone in particular that you were thinking about when
you asked me about sex stuff with other kids?"

"I don't know..." Joey replied, growing shy.

"Come on, you know you can tell me."

"Well... you know that French boy I talked to yesterday..."

"Yes" I replied, thinking of the mega-cute youngster who had been so
rudely punked by his older brothers. He was adorable, and the thought of
him and Joey playing together made my cock start to rise. "Do you like
him?"

"Him? Oh, he's OK. But his older brother has a really big dick."

My son never ceased to amaze me.

*     *     *

Later that morning, Joey and I ate breakfast at one of the restaurants in
the commercial center, then I rented bicycles for both of us for the
duration of our visit. We rode around the resort familiarizing ourselves
with the layout -- the spa complex, the second smaller pool tucked back
into one of the older neighborhoods, the sections for tent camping and
trailers and RV's. It was wonderful, riding through the summer sunlight
under the umbrella pines without clothes on, the warm air flowing over
our bodies. We parked our bikes at the wooden racks next to the beach
trail and walked down to the water, where Joey joined in in that natural
way kids have with two German boys building a sand castle. They spoke
shyly to him in their schoolroom English, but eventually their mother
called them away. It was almost time to start thinking about lunch, so we
packed up our towels and headed over the dunes.

Back on our bikes, we rode past the resort's large green playing field,
and Joey suddenly stopped to stare across the grassy expanse. At the
other end, a group of boys were playing casually with a soccer ball. All
of them had donned shorts or briefs for the occasion, along with shoes.
Among the boys, I saw the three dark-haired brothers from the day before.
Joey looked up at me expectantly.

"Run back to the cabin and grab your speedo and your trainers."

My boy was off like a flash, and I watched his bare white ass as he sped
away, pumping furiously at the pedals of his bike. He was back in what
seemed like two minutes, wearing his tight black speedo, a Florida
Marlins baseball cap, and the one pair of new white Nike running shoes
I'd insisted he also bring - his suitcase had mostly been shoes. I nodded
my approval and he strolled casually onto the field to see if he could
join the other boys. My parental heart was in my throat for my son with
the fear of rejection that every father knows. But after an awkward
moment standing at the edge of the group, Joey nodded at the youngest
brother, and soon the boys had stopped kicking the ball around and
divided themselves up into two teams of four each. That's when, to my
astonishment, half the boys shed their shorts, tossing them to the
sideline, including Joey. Apparently this was how you played shirts and
skins at a nudist village.

For twenty minutes, I watched as the boys contested for the ball. It
wasn't a serious match, just a lazy kick about, but it was obvious that
the three brothers took it competitively in that sibling way. The middle
brother was on Joey's side with the skins, and the two others often
doubled up on him, easily anticipating his moves. The 'shirts' soon
scored twice. But then Joey, who had never really played soccer other
than casually with other kids in the neighborhood park, broke away with
the ball and ran it almost the entire length of the pitch. The oldest
brother, with his long legs, shadowed my son step by step, but Joey
evaded his defense and easily put the ball in the net. As they walked
back up the pitch, the French boy high fived Joey, congratulating him on
his goal. Shortly after, a slim topless woman in shorts walked up to the
far sideline to shout something at two of the boys, the game broke up,
and the three brothers rode off on their bikes. Joey slipped back into
his little suit and rejoined me on the sidelines.

"So are you going to join the soccer team now?" I asked my son in jest.

"Dad! Soccer is lame. It's soooo boring. But this was fun, the French
boys are named Luc and Marc and Paul and the Dutch brothers are Jan and
Tom and there was also an English boy named David and a Spanish boy, he's
Pablo but he didn't speak any English or French but Luc and Marc and Paul
speak English so we spoke English for Jan and Tom and David and me too I
guess and Luc and Marc and Paul are here all summer they come here every
summer and so do Jan and Tom but David is his first time here and I don't
know about Pablo but they play every day right before lunch so tomorrow I
should play with them again." When he was excited, Joey spoke without
remembering to breathe.

"Yes you should, son."

*    *     *

After a trip to the grocery store, a strange experience without clothes
on, I made my son some lunch and we cuddled on the couch for a post-meal
rest. Joey was still keyed up from his soccer game, so I jerked him to a
quick orgasm, a surefire way of getting my boy to settle down, then we
napped for a half hour.

The afternoon agenda was the Lagoon, and after a dozen or so trips on the
slides, Joey and I swam about lazily. Soon the three French brothers
showed up and Joey left me without a backward glance and climbed out of
the pool, his tanned body glistening wet. His white ass was looking a bit
pinkish so I reminded myself to lather on more sunscreen when we got back
to the cabin, and watched as my son greeted his new friends. To Joey's
surprise, the oldest boy offered him a casual bisou, a kiss of greeting
on each cheek, followed by the two other brothers. Is was rather
old-fashioned for young French lads, and endearingly cute. They were
obviously being raised with manners. The four boys ran off to the slides,
and somehow Joey had the energy to go for another couple of dozen runs
with his buddies. After a while they tired of the slides and Joey swam
over with the three handsome brothers.

"Dad! This is Luc, and Marc, and Paul" my son announced.

"Hello Meeester 'Anson" the oldest boy said in decent but accented
English. "Hi boys, how are you this afternoon" I replied in French. All
three boys smiled their lovely smiles at the realization that I spoke
their language. "It's OK, a good sunny day" the middle boy Marc replied
politely. "Joey is our first American friend" the youngest burst out,
eager to add something to the conversation.

"Is he?"

"Yes" Luc replied. "Not so many American families come here. Is your wife
here also" he asked. I put my hand on my son's shoulder. It was a
question that Joey never liked. To my surprise, before I could answer
with one of the noncommittal phrases I usually used like "Joey's mother
doesn't live with us", my boy burst out. "I don't have a mother" he
declared in English. "They made me in a test tube! And then they put my
in a surrogate but she's not my mother she just carried me. It's just dad
and me but that's enough." I had to translate "test tube" for the boys,
to the shocked look on their faces. After a moment Luc responded with
stylish French unflappability by saying "that's cool."

"Are you here with your parents, boys?" I asked to cover up any awkward
pause in the conversation.

"Yes, Marc replied, "and our two sisters. They usually go to the other
pool though, it's next to our house."

"You have a house?" Joey asked in his basic French.

"Yes!" Paul piped in. "It was made by our grandpapa and grandmama many
years ago but now we live there in the summer."

"We have a little house too" Joey responded. "Just a... what's the word
dad?"

"Rental cabin."

"Yes, just a rental cabin. Would you like to see our house?"

The three French boys looked at each other and responded with a Gallic
shrug.

We showered off and left the Lagoon. All three brothers pulled out the
short, loose athletic shorts they had been wearing at the soccer match
and slipped into them. I guess when making a visit to a friend's house,
they thought it was etiquette to cover up their cocks and asses, but they
need not have bothered with Joey and me. Gathering our bikes from the
racks near the entrance, Joey and the brothers raced ahead through the
narrow, shaded lanes towards our cabin. By the time I pulled up, Joey had
already flung open the front doors and was showing them around.

"This is my bedroom" I heard him say from the spare room. Just as at
home, we maintained the fiction that he had his own room, which he did,
even if he slept with me. It's important for a boy to have his own space.
"You see, there are four beds" he pointed out. "You can come... um, sleep
here if you want." He was clearly struggling for the French "sleepover".
"That would be cool" one of the boys replied. The four emerged from the
back bedroom and I noticed that Joey had slipped back into his black
speedo, apparently taking the lead from his new, more experienced nudist
friends. He then showed his guests around the rest of the cabin,
including our bed that was still crumpled from the morning and smelled of
sex. Then the four of them went outside while I took a cold beer from the
fridge and enjoyed a moment's peace.

"Daaaad" Joey yelled, as I stepped out onto the porch, "Can I go with
them to the snack shop for ice cream?"

"Of course" I replied, ducking back into the cabin for some money. At the
resort, you are required to keep a identifying pass with you, which is
given out in a small plastic pouch on a black lanyard. Joey and I hadn't
been remembering to carry them, and no one had checked so far, but I
slipped ten euro into his and walked out, handing it to him. He slung it
casually around his neck.

"Luc" I asked, addressing the oldest boy. "What's your family name?"

"Ah, it's Du Gard. My father is Phillippe, and my mother is Claire. We
are in Section Tahiti, number 24." Clearly the boy understood what I was
asking.

"Thank you. Joey, don't be more than an hour. It will be dinner time
before long."

With that, my son and his three new friends were off to the village
center. Meanwhile, I was on a completely different errand.

I regularly, some might say compulsively, film my son and me having sex.
Our bedroom at home was wired with several cameras, as was the living
room, the pool area, and Joey's 'bedroom'. I often brought a camera into
bed with us, and Joey, who watched a lot of porn with me, had become an
eager little performer for our private films. I never shared my
recordings with anyone -- I told myself that it was strictly to document
my boy's unique childhood, something to remember when he grew into a man.
I find many men attractive and hoped my son and I would never stop making
each other feel good, but I knew that the sex we had when he was young
would always be special, and I wanted it carefully documented (and
carefully hidden in deeply encrypted hard drives). I had hundreds of
hours of our lovemaking captured on film. In preparation for our first
nudist vacation, I had also packed several special cameras. There was my
Hasselblad digital I usually used for our adventures, along with a long
distance lens. But I'd also brought a spy camera that was disguised in a
pair of large black plastic sunglasses, an underwater cam hidden in swim
goggles, and two nanny cams -- one in hidden in a toy car, another in the
spine of a book. I placed these around Joey's room -- the car, the book,
and the swim goggles and sunglasses. After laying in the sun for 45
minutes or so, I activated all the cameras and then headed off on foot,
walking to the commercial center with my shopping bag. I ran into the
boys, who were returning to the cabin on their bikes.

"I'm going to do some shopping, I'll be back in an hour" I told my son,
repeating myself in French for the brothers. "If you are returning to the
cabin, behave yourselves."

*     *     *

"Nothing happened, dad" my son declared as soon as I came in from my
shopping. "They had to go home. I turned off the cameras." Joey was
sitting on the couch, looking a bit dejected.

"Did you want something to happen, son?" I asked, plopping down next to
him and putting my arm across his shoulders.

"I mean, maybe. Like, I dunno. I think Luc is super sexy and his big
dick.... but I also like them, all of them, and want to be their friends.
I don't want anything to mess that up and maybe they don't do sex stuff.
I dunno, I don't think it's worth it."

"It's up to you, Joey. You don't need to do anything that makes you
uncomfortable, and don't think that I expect you to. I did set up the
cameras just in case, because I'd like to record it if you do form a
special bond with someone new like that. But you don't have to do
anything, and your friendship should be a priority."

"Thanks dad. But there's one problem. I'm super horny now. Will you fuck
me?"

Joey and I had started anal about a year before, but it wasn't a regular
thing for us. He needed to be in the mood for it. I often played with his
hole when we had sex, rimming and fingering him, but actual fucking was
something he found a bit scary and intimidating. He'd seen a ton of it in
porn and was very curious to try it the first time, but he was incredibly
tight and no amount of fingers and small butt plugs lessened his anxiety,
an anxiety that had diminished over time but not disappeared. I'd taught
him all about how to do it right -- he knew about cleaning and lubing and
relaxing his sphincter. But anal was something that we did pretty rarely,
usually no more than once a month or so, when the particular desire
struck my boy. He often wanted to do it after some triumph -- a few
months ago, as I was driving him home from a wrestling tournament where
he'd gone 3-0, he was so horny for it that he was grinding his
singlet-clad ass into the car seat like a dog in heat.

"You want to do it now?"

"Yes daddy. Right now please. I already prepared."

I stood up and then lifted up my boy. He was still wearing his tiny black
speedo he'd slipped into when the brothers were visiting, and my hands
grabbed his nylon-clad ass as I carried him into the bedroom. Joey had
thoughtfully already gotten the lube out of my suitcase and put it on the
bedside table. My boy knew what he wanted when he wanted it. I tossed him
into his back with a playful bounce, and he let out a giggle and then
reached down and whipped off his suit. He tossed it against the far wall
and then placed one hand behind each knee and pulled his legs back,
lifting his ass up in my direction, his sweet red hole winking at me from
between his slightly sunburned ass cheeks.

"Oh fuck" I murmured, my cock rising immediately to attention. I walked
over and picked up the lube and lathered my dick with it urgently. Then I
spread some on the fingertips of one hand and reached over and wetted my
boy's eager hole. He sighed with my touch as I slipped one pointer finger
inside him, making sure he was ready to receive. Then I climbed up behind
my sexy ten-year-old. His abs were rippling as he held back his legs, and
I pulled a pillow off the top of the bed and slid it under his lower
back. Then I got behind him and put his heels against my massive pecs and
loomed over my comparatively tiny boy.

"Do it hard, dad" Joey demanded, his voice husky with lust. I leaned
forward, my chest pushing his legs back even further, and, gazing at my
boy straight in the eyes, lined up my dickhead with one hand while softly
stroking his cheek with the other. Then I took both hands, spread his
pale ass even wider, and popped my head inside him.

"Uuunngh!" Joey exclaimed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut. I froze,
making sure he was comfortable. He shifted his weight and I felt him
relax his ring. He opened his eyes, looked at me, and nodded. I inched my
cock slowly forward. Joey shifted his weight again and I felt him loosen
even further. This was the relaxation point he needed to be at for me to
properly fuck him, so I slid my boyfucking tool right down to its root,
my trimmed pubes brushing against his taint, his tight ballsack and
super-hard boy bone pushing against my belly.

I pulled out until it was just the tip and slid back more easily into my
boy this time, the lube squelching between us. "Mmmmm" Joey grunted with
satisfaction.

"Does that hit the spot?"

"Yes daddy. That feels so good."

Back in my cock went, then back out again. I picked up the pace. I'm
always extra careful when fucking my little boy -- he's only 4'10, 90
pounds, and I'm acutely aware of never hurting him. But once he gets into
the fog of sex, he's the one who takes the lead and he's not a shy boy,
but a young athlete who always pushes himself, week after week, in
training and competition. Competitiveness is a trait my son and I share,
and that sometimes comes out in sexual competitiveness as well. Joey had
a determined look on his face, and his tongue slipped out between his
ruby lips to curl upwards with determination. "Faster, daddy. Faster!" he
demanded, so I picked up the pace, my huge bulk pushing my boy down into
the mattress under us, the bed creaking ominously with each stroke. Joey
reached down as I pounded him out and started stroking his hard dick. He
was such a sexy sight there under me on the bed, our bodies connected by
the thick tube of my cock, his slim arms across his abdomen as he worked
his little soldier with both hands, his abs crunching as he thrust his
hips up to meet my downstroke.

"Doggy style, daddy!" my boy demanded, and I pulled out and flipped him
over onto all fours. I regularly curled more weight than my boy weighed,
and I could toss him around like a rag doll when he wanted me to. The boy
landed on his hands and knees and immediately reared up his ass toward
me. I spread him op and lined my head up again, once more popping it in
carefully, then beginning that slow first stroke. I moved my hands to
grab him just above his hips -- my massive fingers almost met around his
tiny waist. "Ungh" Joey grunted as my cock reached deep into him with
each forward thrust. "Ungh. Ungh! UNGH! UNGH!!!!" He was bellowing like
an animal now. "I love you Joey" I cried out, my thrusts accelerating.
Joey came up off of his hands and leaned back, his shoulders coming to
rest right below the swell of my pecs, his back to my front. His hands
were now free to stroke his cock as I continued to hold him tightly
around the waist and thrust into him. We loved this position. My son
leaned his head back until it rested against my pecs, nestled between my
nipples, and swiveled his head up to look at me. I felt his asshole
clinch and his eyes closed as his hips started to thrust. "Ooohhh" he
sighed. "That's number one" he whispered, his hands squeezing his cock.
Joey usually dry came at least two or three times when we fucked. I
picked up the pace. Joey leaned forward and put his hands on the top of
the bed's headboard to give me even deeper access to him. I pulled almost
all the way out and added more lube to my cock, and then slid right back
into action. The slapping sound of our fucking filled the room.

My balls were on fire by now. My slicked up tool was humming with
pleasure in my son's warm cavity. The boy was in sync with me, his hips
moving with mine to slam our crotches together. I reached around him and
grabbed his adorable little nipples and pinched them gently, my tongue
running up the side of his sweaty neck, darting into his ear canal, which
made him giggle and squirm, only highlighting the pleasure as his tiny
ass shifted on my prick. While one hand continued to pull at his nipples,
the other went down and seized his junior cock, stroking him as I knew he
liked, between thumb and forefinger. As soon as I touched his prick his
asshole convulsed again and his little rod leapt in my hand.

"That's number two" he sighed, sex-drunk.

By now I knew I wasn't that far off, so I pulled my boy close to me,
hugging him against me with one of my giant hairy forearms, while
expertly working his cock with the other hand. My own dick was in a
steady beat of thrusts, and my breathing started to grow heavy. My boy
sighed and moaned.

"Are you close daddy?"

"Yes Joey. I'm so close. Your sexy ass is milking me, son. I love fucking
your ass."

"I love your big dick in me daddy" my son cooed.

I shifted my weight and came up off my haunches, lifting Joey up as I
rose to an upward kneeling position. The boy's knees came off the bed and
I was now bouncing him up and down on my cock, helped by him pushing off
with his feet at each stroke, his knees working as springs for our
fucking. Joey turned his head and slid his warm pink tongue into my
mouth. I breathed my boy in and ran my tongue across his. One hand
squeezed his left nipple while the other grew furious on his stiff little
prick.

"Ungh. UNGH! HERE COMES NUMBER THREE!" my boy crowed. His asshole started
to do its orgasmic contractions again, and this time I exploded, pumping
into him, spraying jizz like a firehose inside his perfect round ass as
his warm, tanned skin rested, sticky with sweat, against mine.

That's when I caught some motion out of my left eye. The bedroom had
three windows, one in each direction as you walked in, and the one to the
left looked out on the broad front porch. The blinds were down, but I
noticed that somehow, after I'd lifted them this morning to let in some
light, I hadn't pulled them totally shut. There was a small gap of maybe
three inches at the bottom, not large enough for anyone to see anything
from more than a few feet away, but if you leaned in and peered through
the gap, you could see into the room.

I pulled my cock from my boy with an audible plop that startled him and
leapt from the bed. Joey whipped around to see what I was doing. I strode
to the window in two steps and yanked the blinds up. My erection would be
low enough to not be seen by anyone wandering by, luckily.

The light was already fading, the evening coming in. But it was still
bright enough that I was able to witness three well tanned boy asses,
high in the air, their owners bent over the handlebars as they peddled
swiftly away on their clanking bikes. They were small, medium, and large,
and clearly belonged to brothers.

Joey stood next to me at the window. He looked up at me, his eyes wide.
My cum was running down the inside of his thigh, across the back of his
knee, all the way to his calf.

"Well, son. It looks like we're going to find out if your new friends
would like to play or not."