Date: Sun, 3 Mar 2024 21:15:08 -0000
From: david@screeve.org
Subject: A Summer of Discovery: Getting There

Give the gift of Nifty and donate, they need donations to keep providing us
all with this free website. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

School may be over, but some students are going on a final school trip to
the South of France. Despite not knowing the language, Ben Masters joins
his friends and enjoys the sea, sun and sand. While enjoying their holiday
Ben and his friends throw themselves in the cuture and make some amazing
discoveries.

Disclaimer: Please note that this story is fictional and took place in the
imagination of the writer, nothing written ever happened. These fictional
characters may or may not practice safe sex, however these are merely words
and I would always advocate the practice of safe sex in the real world.
Some of these fictional characters' actions may not also be legal in all or
any places in the world, and these fictional stories are not meant
encourage any reader to break any of their local laws. Anything can happen
in our imaginations, but in the real world we are bound by
restrictions. Play safe.

Now, fire up your imaginations and let the fun begin...


A Summer of Discovery

Chapter 1: Getting There
by David Heulfryn

I looked past Darren's expressionless face and out of the coach window to
watch the headlights of passing cars. I hoped they might have the hypnotic
effect of sending me to sleep. They didn't.

Darren and I sat five rows behind the driver; his head rested on the cold
window, his breath fogging the glass. I ignored the cars and tilted my head
back to rest awkwardly on the headrest. I breathed a heavy sigh and closed
my eyes, willing sleep to come but knowing deep down that it never would.

>From a very young age, I could never fall asleep in the car; it was a
curse. It infuriated my parents; no matter how tired I got, I could never
fall asleep. As I grew up, I discovered it was not specific to cars but
anything that moved: trains, aeroplanes, anything.

Everyone around me seemed to be asleep. I was dog tired and knew that as
soon as I could lie on a bed, I would be out with my head on a soft pillow
within seconds.

Besides me, Darren was still, but I knew him too well, and he was much like
me when sleeping on coaches. Although his eyes were closed, I knew he was
as awake as I was.



Ten hours ago, we were all excited, talking enthusiastically to each other
about the French trip and what we wanted to do. I wanted to be lazing about
on the beach, eying up the young French guys in their Speedos.

"Don't worry, Daz. I'll make sure that I keep your balls empty." I
reassured my fuck buddy. "Those French guys will just be extra for me. I am
on holiday, after all." I looked upwards as if in deep thought. "I wonder
what French cock tastes like?"

Darren reached over and squeezed my cock through my jeans.

"Just keep this under control, Ben. At least until we get there." Darren
grinned at me.

My cock was half-hard, and a glance at Darren's bulge through his jeans
told me he was as well.

"If all these people weren't here, I'd go down on you and swallow you whole
right now." I half smiled at him and raised my eyebrows.

"I know you would. Why do you think I'm straining to keep it under
control?"

"Don't worry, Daz. I'll sort you out as soon as I can."  I gave his bulge a
squeeze for good measure.

In the early afternoon, we had all gathered outside our college, waiting to
board the coach to take us on the sixth form's annual French field trip to
the South of France. The sky was overcast, and the air chilled me slightly;
we couldn't wait to leave the drab British summer weather and bask in the
glowing yellow heat of the South of France. The teacher was adamant it was
not a holiday but was about practising our French and learning about the
French culture. But we knew it was a holiday, really; Darren was the
linguist and was along for the `learning experience'; I was just making up
the numbers.

We'd all sat our final A-Level exams, and, after the summer, we were either
going off to university, getting a job or lining up outside the Job Centre
to sign up for the meagre Job Seeker's Allowance. If I got the right
grades, I would be off to university. Mind you, even if I didn't get the
right grades, I'm sure I could find some university willing to take me
on. This trip was the school's way of letting us all let our hair down and
say a cheerful farewell to schoolmates before we split up and started our
adult lives.

I knew Darren and I wouldn't see much of each other after this summer. He
was going one way; I was going the other. He would continue his language
studies in the South while I studied History in the North. Darren certainly
had a talented tongue for languages, but I would miss his talented tongue
on my dick or rimming me before ploughing my arse with his fat cock.

Our initial excitement soon waned on the four-hour drive to Dover. Spirits
seemed to lift when we boarded the ferry, and we could all wander around
the boat. Darren and I queued up at the tired café to eat a hearty
but greasy fried dinner on the ageing boat as it trudged across the murky
waters of the channel to Calais. We didn't fly because it was simply too
expensive; the low-cost airlines also didn't fly to where we were
going. But even travelling by coach, this trip wasn't cheap, and quite a
few of the French language students couldn't afford to go, so they opened
up the spare places to other students; that's why I'm here, to fill up the
seats and to keep Darren company.

With little else to do on the ferry, we sauntered around and headed for the
shop. Most other passengers were stocking up on cheap cigarettes and
alcohol, but we weren't allowed to. Although we had all turned eighteen,
the teachers told us in no uncertain terms that we weren't to buy any `fags
or booze on the boat'. They said there wasn't enough room on the coach to
store it all - I suspected the teachers wanted any spare space for their
own.

It was late evening when we docked in Calais. I wasn't looking forward to
getting back on the coach, and would enjoy the crush even less as people
made their way back to the vehicle decks. I swear the middle-aged man
behind me kept bumping into me on purpose, sending me forward and into the
back of Darren. I'm sure I also felt his hand on my arse a couple of times;
no doubt he would claim it was an accident in the crush if I confronted him
about it.



On the coach, my arse grew numb from sitting down for so long. The teachers
promised us a stop once we'd passed Paris, but that was miles back; many of
us were asleep, so they just carried on. No-one complained. That's not
entirely true; I did complain. I complained loudly and vociferously, but it
was all inside my head, so no one heard me. It made me feel better even
though my bum stayed numb.

We'd been warned that we would be travelling through the night, and I just
hoped I'd get so tired that my brain would just shut down and force me to
sleep. But that never happened.

I guessed we must be halfway down France with another five or six hours
before arriving at the campsite. Most of the other students had opened
their sleeping bags to use as blankets, and some even stretched out and
slept in the aisle. I thought about it but didn't like the idea of sleeping
on a hard and dirty floor. In the aisle by my feet lay Pete, another mate
of mine. I could hear him breathing and letting out the occasional
snore. He looked well wrapped up in his sleeping bag with the cord drawn
tightly so that only his face protruded from the opening, his head resting
on his rucksack. He seemed so sweet and cute, just like a baby. Andy,
Pete's secret fuck buddy, lay at his feet. He was so close to Pete that his
head snuggled into his crotch. It might have looked obscene if it weren't
for the sleeping bags covering them.

The thought of Andy so close to Pete made me imagine him sucking on Pete's
thick cock; a cock I had also enjoyed a few times. The four of us were very
close and very good friends. We shared everything, even bodily fluids. But
Andy was only into Pete, and would only allow Pete inside him. That was a
shame as I would have loved to have had a crack at Andy; at least he wasn't
selfish enough to keep Pete to himself, and as long as we didn't flaunt it,
he didn't mind Pete having a bit of fun with Darren or me.

Darren and I had opened our sleeping bags and draped them over us like
blankets. It was getting cold, and this at least tried to keep us warm.

The cold of the night gave me a shiver, so I pulled my sleeping bag tight
around my neck; the driver had switched off all the lights inside the coach
to encourage us all to sleep. It worked for most people but not for Darren
and me. And now, with all the heavy breathing and light snoring echoing
inside the coach, I knew damn well that I couldn't sleep.

Darren sighed after looking at his watch.

"What time is it then?" I asked, not bothering to open my eyes, as I knew
that whenever Darren sighed, he'd looked at the time.

"Just past midnight, Ben."

"Fuck!" I blurted out and embarrassingly caught the attention of a nearby
teacher sitting in the front row.

"Whoever that was, watch your language and go to sleep."

I twisted my head and whispered to Darren. "Fat chance!"

"I know. How the hell do they expect us to sleep? I can't lie down, and I
can't do what I always do if I can't fall asleep."

I smiled. "Well, I could sort out that last problem for you?"

I slid my hand underneath Darren's sleeping bag and dragged my fingers
across the coarse denim fabric. With my fingers cupping Darren's crotch, I
started to squeeze.

"Fucking hell, Ben! You can't do that here. There are people all around
us."

"They can't see anything." I kept squeezing and felt Darren's cock lengthen
and become firm. "Besides, they're all asleep."

Darren sighed again, this time not because of checking his watch. His cock
was now almost fully hard and strained against his jeans. My hand fumbled,
trying to unclasp the button on his jeans to release his cock.

"Come on, mate. Give us a hand with this damn thing." I leaned in and put
my lips very close to Darren's ear. I knew the breath of my whisper would
cause his cock to surge.

Without saying a word, Darren's hand darted inside the sleeping bag,
unclasped his jeans, pulled down his fly, and came back out again.

Like a cock-seeking missile, my hand went straight inside Darren's jeans,
pushed through the fly of his boxer shorts and grasped his cock.

Darren gasped at the first touch of his cock and then regained control of
his reflexes so he wouldn't make any noise.

I pulled Darren's cock free from its confines and stroked my fingers up and
down the shaft. It felt clammy from being caged for most of the day, only
released for a few seconds each time while he went to piss.

As my hand worked its way up and down Darren's clammy cock shaft, I looked
at his face. I always liked to look at him when we did stuff together. I
loved the way his eyes darted beneath his eyelids like he was in REM sleep,
the way his mouth hung loose, sucking in the air his lungs needed and the
way his tongue would appear occasionally, lick his lips and then disappear
again. If anyone looked at him now, they would think he was asleep.

I wanted to kiss him. I always wanted to kiss him, but he never really
liked me kissing him. I'd kissed him a few times, but that was more out of
impulse, and I had always caught him off guard. I think he was beginning to
like it now, as I seemed to catch him off guard more often. But I never
wanted to push my luck with him.

As my hand rubbed up and down Darren's cock I imagined that it was my lips
doing the work and causing him so much pleasure. I wanted to taste him, I
liked to taste him, but I couldn't risk it in a coach full of college
students and teachers, even if I thought they were all asleep. I hoped we
could find some private time at the campsite as I didn't want to go two
weeks without tasting him, nor did I want to go two weeks without him
tasting me.

Like all kids, we'd started by just wanking in front of each other, and
then we'd progress to wanking each other off; well, not all kids began like
this, but all kids that do what we do did. We were thirteen when we started
and quickly became addicted to each other. Soon wanking ourselves wasn't
good enough, and we started sucking each other off. Now, at eighteen, we'd
done just about everything. It was challenging to find the privacy and
space to fuck, but that made it all the more special when we did. Most of
the time, it was him fucking me, but occasionally I got the pleasure of
fucking Darren. I loved the feel of his tight arse around my cock.

Sitting here, wanking Darren and knowing that it wouldn't lead to sucking
or fucking made me feel thirteen again. Taking me back to a more innocent
time when I'd seen his cock hard for the first time. The first time I'd
touched it and intently watched as I stroked it up and down, watching the
foreskin roll back to show me his shiny red knob and then roll over it to
cover it again. If I squeezed gently, a small drop of pre-cum would gather
at the tip. It was so different watching me wank another cock than watching
me wank my cock. You get a different viewpoint and could look without
intense feelings clouding your mind. I was fascinated by the look and feel
of his cock, and in my younger days, I would get so close that my eyes
couldn't focus. Only then would my tongue take over and feel every part of
it. I had come to know Darren's cock better than my own. I used to joke
that if I was blindfolded, I could pick out his cock just by sucking it.

His warm cock always felt different in my hand than my own. Besides the
obvious differences, he was thicker for a start; it was the taboo of
touching another boy that excited me, and just anticipating that first
touch used to get my dick so hard that I'd thought it would explode. In
fact, the first time I did touch him, I came. We were both naked and hard
and as I reached out to touch him, my dick lurched, my cum spraying over
his legs. Darren laughed, and I felt very foolish and immature. Thankfully
I'd now managed to take control of my cock and was no longer so quick on
the trigger, even though those feelings still coursed through my veins.

The clammy texture of Darren's cock had changed to become damp and
slimy. He always leaked a lot; usually, it would coat my tongue and run
down the back of my throat. But now I had to be careful. A slick and slimy
cock could make noise when wanked.

I took precautions.

My palm wrapped around the shaft of his cock, pulling down, his foreskin
rolled over his knob. Adjusting my grip, I made sure that his foreskin
remained retracted as my fingers concentrated on his exposed knob. I knew
Darren would find the sensation more stimulating, so I took it slow. It
didn't work too well; his knob still leaked, covering his cock again and
also my hand, but I knew that with his knob exposed, he would be coming
soon.

I looked at Darren's face; he appeared to wince in pain. But it wasn't
pain. He would do the same thing when it was my lips locked firmly around
his exposed knob.

I was now getting ready to make Darren blow. My hand stopped stroking him
but still gripped the top of his shaft. The only movement was my thumb
which I hooked on the underside of his knob. The small gentle stoking of my
thumb on that single part of his cock caused it to swell and throb in my
grip. Darren sighed, trying to cover up his need to start gasping or
panting as his cock throbbed and thickened. His balls ached, and I wanted
to cup those tender eggs in my hand to soothe and care for them.

Darren felt like he'd been kicked in the balls as they drew up tight
against his body; his cock throbbed wildly, controlled only by my hand, and
his knob exploded. My hand stayed still as he shot three big loads before
it gently rippled in my hand. I felt each spurt as it travelled up his
shaft and out onto the inside of his sleeping bag.

With his cock still again, I stroked slowly and allowed his foreskin to
cover his sensitive knob. His cum soaked the inside of his sleeping bag,
and what it couldn't absorb had started to run through my fingers.

I kept hold of Darren's damp and sticky cock until it had deflated. Looking
at Darren, I could tell he had fallen asleep; it had certainly done the
trick. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to return the favour, and I didn't
want to wake him just so that I could get my rocks off.

His cum began to dry quickly, and my fingers were sticking to his cock as
his glue set. I could feel my fingers pulling on his skin as I prised them
off his cock. I fumbled with his boxer shorts and stuffed his limp and
lifeless organ back inside. I tried but couldn't button up his jeans, so I
left them open; at least his cock wasn't hanging out.

I pulled my hand out of his sleeping bag and sniffed my fingers. I breathed
in heavily to let his scent get deep inside me. I balled my fist and made
his juices squelch and ooze between my fingers. Sticking out my tongue, I
licked my hand clean. If I couldn't swallow his load directly out of his
cock then this would have to do.

I rested my hand on my leg to allow it to dry. I hoped I could fall asleep,
but any thoughts of sleep evaporated as the coach pulled into the services
to fill up on Diesel and give the driver a rest stop.

Standing up, I motioned to one of the teachers that I wanted to get out. He
beckoned me forward, and I was careful as I stepped over the people
sleeping in the aisle.

There were many grunts and groans as I inadvertently stepped on people's
arms, legs, hands, or whatever they had under my feet.

Once in the cold night air, the teacher asked the others if they wanted to
get out, but no one did. It seemed that I was the only one who needed the
toilet.

There was an onboard toilet, but it was only to be used in emergencies
because of the smells and emptying it. The first guy to use it while the
coach was in motion seemed to have sprayed the tiny cabin in piss. The
teachers -- and the girls -- insisted that the guys sit down on the toilet
to take a piss. I, for one, wasn't going to be made to go to the toilet
like a girl.

Inside the services, I made my way to the toilets. Even at night, an old
woman sat guard outside with a little saucer and a sign telling us how much
she demanded to use the toilet. I fiddled in my pockets, let go of the
thick one-euro coins and found a fifty-cent coin. The noise it made as it
hit the ceramic saucer seemed louder in the quietness of the
nighttime. Without looking at the old lady, I went inside. I considered
using a cubicle to pee and then wank myself off, but the toilets were old
and looked dirty, so I just wanted to get out of there as quickly as I
could.

I went to the shop to get myself something to eat and drink, and I noticed
our coach driver sitting on a stool with a large paper cup containing hot
steaming coffee. I smiled at him, and he smiled back.

As my eyes scanned the fridges and all the cans and bottles of drinks, I
thought about him. Young and cute, I reflected. He couldn't have been more
than thirty. My dick started to fill out. Damn, I needed to get off.

I ignored all the foreign stuff on the shelves. I was tired and just wanted
something familiar, so I grabbed a can of Coke and a Mars bar and went to
pay. I thought about sitting with the driver but didn't want to disturb his
break, so I made my way for the exit.

"Hey, Kid. Why don't you join me?" He called over to me. I'd never been
called Kid before in my entire life, but as he didn't know my name, he
probably thought it less rude than `Oy you'.

As I walked over to him, I told him my name was `Ben, Ben Masters', and I
cringed inside at how formal I sounded.

"Charlie." He smiled as I climbed onto the tall bar stool. "I could use
someone to talk to. It's just so damn quiet I was beginning to think I'd
lost the ability to talk. And your teachers aren't exactly the friendliest
bunch."

"They're alright," I said. "Most of them." I qualified.

"Well, I suppose they just want a bit of shut-eye themselves."

"So, are you with us the entire trip?" I asked.

"Yep, sure am." He smiled at me, showing his bright white teeth. "I will
have all day to rest when we get there, so don't expect to go anywhere
tomorrow." He checked his watch. "Or should I say later today."

"It says on our itinerary that we'd just be staying at the campsite the
first day. I hope there's something more than fields and an ablution hut."

"I'm sure there is."

He took one last long slurp of his coffee and got down from his
stool. "Come on then, Ben. We'd better get back on the road."

"Sure." I picked up my unopened drink and chocolate bar.

As we walked back to the coach, he put his arm around my shoulder. "So,
Ben. Why aren't you asleep like all the others?"

"I just find it difficult to sleep on coaches, all that motion and not
being able to lie down."

Mr Fisher, the group leader, was standing by the coach doors as he watched
us approach.

"Come on, Ben. Hurry up back to your seat."

"Yes, Sir." I slipped free from Charlie's arm and started to jog back to
the coach.

As I made my way back to my seat and across all the bodies on the floor, I
heard Mr Fisher ask Charlie if I'd been disturbing him. Bloody cheek, I
thought, he'd been the one that collared me. Thankfully, Charlie told him I
wasn't a bother and that talking to someone helps him when travelling
through the night.

There wasn't the usual headcount before we left. Fisher had been standing
by the coach doors the whole time and knew we'd been the only two to have
left the coach. Darren was still asleep, so all I had to keep me company
for the rest of the journey was my Coke and Mars bar.

More to come...


Read more of my stories of Nifty, just search for David Heulfryn or head
over to my website, www.screeve.org

I would love to read your comments so please email me at david@screeve.org