Juggling the Pieces

by Pink Panther

Chapter 5

August 2010

On Sunday morning, we get up a little later than usual. By the time we've had breakfast, it's nearly ten o'clock.

"So what are we doing today?" Anthony queries, addressing his dad.

"I thought we could spend the day just lazing around locally," Tom answers.

"I thought you might take us to a gay beach," Anthony persists.

It sounds to me like an attempted wind-up.

"I would, if there were any," Tom replies calmly. "It wouldn't be a problem. You're both of legal age here. Unfortunately, we're in the wrong country."

"You mean there aren't any gay beaches in the whole of France?" Anthony queries.

"Not in the way you mean," James intervenes.

"I thought France was supposed to be very liberal," Anthony protests.

"It is," Tom counters. "That's the point. All public beaches have to be open to everybody, and so you won't find beaches here that are only frequented by gay guys."

"So if France is the wrong country," Anthony probes. "Which is the right one?"

"Spain!" Tom and James say in unison.

"If you know where to look, there are gay beaches and cruising grounds dotted all the way along the Mediterranean coast."

"What are cruising grounds?" I ask quietly.

"Places where guys meet other guys for sex," Anthony whispers. "Usually places with lots of trees and bushes, right?"

I've gone red again. I should have worked that out.

"Actually, if you want that sort of gay beach," James says. "You'd be better off back home than you would here. At least there is one."

"There's a gay beach in England?" Anthony questions.

"Yeah," Tom says casually. "Studland Naturist Beach, which is between Bournemouth and Poole. But don't start getting ideas; it's a three-hour drive from our place."

"I went there once," James says. "It was very cruisy. I didn't like it at all."

I think I've got the picture. I don't think I'd like it either.

We spend the day on a beach less than ten minutes' walk away. There are no loungers, so we're just lying on towels, but it's fine. We do much the same as we did yesterday. It's very enjoyable and relaxing. Tomorrow morning, I'll be ready to get back to work.

It's Tuesday evening. Anthony's finished his picture. Before going out to dinner, the four of us troop around to Justin's studio to see it. OMG! It is incredible! I mean, it would be regarded as a superb picture, whoever painted it. The fact that it was done by a fifteen-year old who's never done an oil painting before just blows me away.

"Justin helped me quite a bit," Anthony says modestly.

"What he means," Justin explains, "is that I made a few suggestions, and showed him a few things on a spare piece of board. He did this. I haven't touched it."

"Man!" I congratulate, wrapping an arm around Anthony's shoulder. "That's amazing!"

Tom produces a bottle of champagne. We all have a glass to celebrate.

"I'm just starting, yeah?" Anthony says, looking quite embarrassed by all the attention he's getting. "I've got a long way to go yet."

I glance across at Tom, who is simply glowing with pride. I'm delighted for him.

A few minutes later, we head out for dinner. As we stroll towards the restaurant, I reflect on how many extraordinary people I know, or should I say people who do extraordinary things. Scott, Anthony, Dean, Patrick; I feel so lucky to know these guys and count them as friends.

The following morning, Anthony and I head towards our usual pitch. I feel on top of the world. I know it doesn't compare with what Anthony's done, but my work using pastels and acrylics has improved enormously. From my point of view, things could hardly have gone better. When we arrive, Miles is all over us.

"I went to see your picture yesterday afternoon," he enthuses, addressing himself to Anthony. "I thought it was outstanding."

"Thanks," Anthony says, smiling. "It's okay. I'm pretty happy with it. But the next one will be better."

His words strike a chord. I know the context is completely different, but that's exactly the sort of thing that Scott says.

"This morning," Miles says, turning to me. "I'd like to show you a few techniques with watercolours."

"Yeah, man!" Anthony responds, grinning at me. "This'll blow your socks off!"

That would actually be quite difficult, as I'm not wearing any, but I know what he means. I'm intrigued. I do okay with watercolours, so what is Miles going to show me that I haven't seen before? But I remember the work that Anthony brought back last year: mainly watercolours. I couldn't have done any of them.

"Yes, thanks!" I agree. "That'd be great!"

We settle down to work. Anthony was right. I am blown away! The techniques Miles is showing us aren't that difficult. Being quite confident with watercolours, I pick them up almost straightaway. I just wouldn't have thought of them. Wow! I am buzzing!

"Right!" Miles says. "I'll leave you to get on with it. If you've got any queries, just come and ask. I'll come back and see you in a couple of hours or so."

Having seen this stuff last year, Anthony's right on it. I have to take more time, both to decide which technique to use, and to execute it correctly. That's not important. Once I get familiar with them, they'll make a massive difference.

Miles returns just before one o'clock. He spends a few minutes with me, pointing out a couple of places where I haven't got it quite right, and showing me what I should have done.

"Okay," he says smiling. "I'm off now. My other half has a regular commitment on Wednesday afternoons, so I'm in charge of the children. Or they're in charge of me; I'm not quite sure which. Tomorrow's your last day, isn't it?"


"Okay, I'll see you then!"

After eating our lunch, Anthony and I get back to work. After more than two weeks, I might have been flagging, but I'm not. I'm totally into it, excited by the possibilities.

I've been working for almost two hours when I stop for a drink. I look across towards Anthony. He's chatting to two boys that appear to be a bit younger than us. The bigger one's around the same height as me, with fair, slightly curly hair. Although he's quite slim, his thighs have just enough muscle for them to fit snugly into the denim shorts he's wearing. He looks much the same age as I do, which probably makes him around fourteen. The other lad, who has straight dark hair, is a few inches shorter, but has a similar physique.

The weird thing is that I'm sure I've seen them before, although for a moment I can't think when or where. Then it clicks. These are the two boys that I saw watching me a week ago. They were further away then; that's why I was a bit slow to recognise them. So what's this about? Grinning at me, Anthony gets out of his chair and strolls across, the two boys following behind.

"Hi, man!" he says quietly. "I'm packing up for the afternoon. This is Lucas," he adds, indicating the bigger lad, "and this is Sacha. I'm going to take these guys back to the apartment, yeah? Would you like to come with us?"

The bulge in the front of Lucas's shorts and the knowing look on Anthony's face spell it out in big letters. For a moment, I'm gobsmacked. I'd never considered the possibility of anything like this happening.

There's something else too. That last part wasn't a question; it was a request. Anthony wants me to go with them, I guess to even up the numbers. This is difficult. Given what I agreed with Scott, I really ought to say no. On the other hand, Anthony invited me to come on this holiday, and I'm having the best time imaginable. At the end of the day, saying no just isn't an option. I know we really shouldn't be doing it, but who's going to find out?

"Yeah, okay," I agree, smiling. "I'll get my stuff together."

"When we saw you last week," Lucas says, "we were wondering if we should come and talk to you. Then you just packed up your things and left."

"Oh," Anthony explains, grinning from ear to ear. "He thought you might have been a couple of street robbers."

"I couldn't have invited you back anyway," I tell them. "I don't have the keys."

A few minutes later we're on our way. At least with four of us, our stuff's easier to carry. I walk next to Anthony, with our two guests just in front.

"So how did this happen?" I ask quietly.

"Well, I saw them watching me," Anthony says, "so I gave them a smile. They came over and started chatting. That's when my gaydar kicked in. Lucas and I just connected, yeah?" He lowers his voice. "They're as horny as fuck, and they've got nowhere to go."

"Right! So what are we going to do?"

"We'll have to play it by ear, but when I asked them what they were into, they said 'Whatever you like, as long as you don't get rough'."

"So how old are they?"

"Lucas is fourteen; Sacha's thirteen. Don't worry about it. This isn't like England. Here, if it's only kids involved, nobody's getting hurt, and nobody's having their arm twisted, they don't give a shit. Trust me."

I'm not totally convinced, but I'm too horny to think about it. I give him the benefit of the doubt.

"What about your dad and James?"

"They won't be back till gone six. They never are. We've got ages. And as far as anyone at home's concerned, it never happened. Simple."

That certainly makes sense. When I spoke to him on Saturday, Scott asked me if Anthony and I were still behaving ourselves, and I'll told him that we'd stuck to doing what we said we'd do, which was fine. But it wouldn't occur to him to ask about us doing anything like this.

"So are you going to get it on with Lucas?" I ask.

"That's the idea, as long as you're okay with it."


I can see where he's coming from. When we arranged this holiday, he thought he'd be getting to fuck me every night. Of course, that hasn't happened. Now he's been presented with an opportunity. I can't blame him for taking it.

I'm happy enough. Although I'm not really into younger boys, Sacha's actually not that small, maybe 5'2", and he's got a beautiful body, like a gymnast or a dancer or something.

We reach the apartment. Producing the keys, Anthony lets us in, locking the apartment door behind us. Leaving our art stuff in the entrance hall, we stroll into the living room.

"Anyone want a drink?" he asks.

He scores a full house. As we drink coke with lots of ice, I look around. We're all sporting hard-ons. I'm so horny, my dick's throbbing inside my boxers.

I quickly discover that although Lucas speaks fairly good English, Sacha doesn't. He doesn't seem to understand it either, relying on Lucas to translate for him. When I was younger, we visited France several times, and Mum insisted that we all speak French the whole time we were here. As a result, my spoken French isn't bad. I know quite a bit of colloquial French, including some that Mum would rather I didn't know. I just hope Sacha and I will understand each other.*

Leaving our empty glasses in the kitchen, we make our way into our bedroom. Anthony guides Lucas towards his bed. Sacha, grinning mischievously, comes over to mine. Mmmmm! He is cute!

After discarding our sandals, we begin to undress each other. Sacha's good at this, his touch turning me on even more. Within a few seconds, t-shirts and shorts are removed, leaving us just in our underwear.

Sitting on the side of the bed, I hook my thumbs into the waistband of Sacha's briefs. I carefully skin them down his legs, exposing his uncut four-inch prick. It's still on the slim side, but developing nicely, his pee-hole just visible beyond his foreskin, a pair of round, well-formed balls hanging immediately beneath. As yet, he doesn't have a trace of pubic hair.

"Can you squirt?" I ask (* in French)

"Yes," he says, grinning.

"You've got a gorgeous body," I whisper. "Do you do gymnastics or dance, maybe?"

"Both!" he says, grinning proudly.

Leaning forwards, I take his cock fully into my mouth. It's wonderfully hard, full of pent-up energy. I suck it hungrily, taking it right down to the root before coming back up to work my tongue over the small, shiny head.

Finally, I let him go. Without a word being spoken, we swap places. Moments later, my boxers are round my ankles. I kick them off.

"Beautiful cock!" he whispers, running his fingers along my shaft. "I didn't think you'd have one like that!" His touch is exceptional, making me gasp.

Opening his mouth wide, he goes down on me. He's good at this too, very good in fact, sucking me steadily until he's taking it right down his throat. It's obvious that he's had plenty of practice. I feel myself getting close.

"You'd better stop!" I warn.

Obediently, he lets me go. As he gets to his feet, I look past him to where Anthony and Lucas are engaged in a sixty-nine. I have to smile. I know it's not going to end there!

Sacha and I snuggle up on my bed. I draw him into a kiss. He does it beautifully. Wow! He's as horny as I am! I roll onto my back, pulling him over on top of me. Still kissing him, I run my hands down his back and over his beautiful bum.

"Do you live around here?" I ask.

"No, we live in Nice. We came on the bus, the same as last week. We were hoping we might see you again."

As we're lying there, I hear moaning and grunting coming from the far side of the room. I look across. On the other bed, Lucas is down on all-fours, his knees well forward, his head and shoulders down low. Kneeling behind him, Anthony is pounding the lad's arse.

I've never seen other boys having sex before. Watching Lucas getting fucked is so hot! It's turning me on even more than I already was. Without even thinking about it, I run my finger down Sacha's crack until I'm tickling his bum-hole.

"Are you going to fuck me?" he asks, nodding at the other two to make sure I understand.

Once again, this is problematic. If either he or Lucas wanted to fuck me, the answer would be a definite 'no'. That's Scott's privilege. It's what we agreed and it's what I'm going to stick to. But me being the top? As I've never done that with either Scott or Anthony, the question never arose.

"Is that what you want?" I ask, playing for time.


"You've taken it before, then?"

"Yes, last year, at the gym club. I'd already sucked off some of the older boys. The instructor found out. He pulled my shorts down and fucked me."

"Did you like it?"

"No, not when he did it. He was too big and very rough. But later, I let one of the older boys do it. I liked that a lot!"

Ooops! Even my French struggles with that! I have to ask him to explain it a couple of times, before I'm sure I've got it. Actually, it takes me back. In some ways, Sacha's experience seems to mirror my own. I've got that 'Been there, done that!' feeling.

So now what? I'm not actually going to do anything I said I wouldn't. In any case, the chances of Scott finding out are somewhere between negligible and zero.

"Okay," I agree. "We need to get you ready."

I retrieve the tube of K-Y from my bag. It's pure chance that I brought it. With Sacha on all-fours, I kneel behind and begin to lick him out, my tongue working overtime on his bum-hole. He gurgles enthusiastically.

Pulling away, I squeeze some lube onto my fingers. I start by inserting my index finger, steadily pushing it in as far as it will go. As there's not a murmur of protest, I push my middle finger in too, working both digits around to loosen him up.

Finally, I let my fingers slide slowly out . As I coat my dick with K-Y, Sacha grabs the pillow, places it under his hips and lies down on top, his legs spread apart. I get another flashback. The first time I fucked Patrick, that was what he did.

Although it wouldn't be my choice, if that's the way Sacha wants me to do it, I'm happy to oblige. Kneeling between his legs, I lower myself into position, guiding my cock onto his bum-hole. Taking a deep breath, I thrust it in.

The sensations are out of this world. Very steadily, I push in deeper, savouring every contour of his tight, velvety tunnel. Finally, I bottom out, my pubic bone pressed tight against his bum. After a short pause, I begin to fuck, in, out, in, out, keeping it steady, milking every millisecond of it.

"Do it harder!" Sacha urges.

Well, if that's what he wants . . . I pick up the pace, pulling well back before thrusting in again. Within seconds, I'm pounding into him like the world's about to end. Suddenly, he shudders beneath me, his bum-hole flaring and tightening around my cock. A couple more thrusts and I'm there too, my spunk spurting over and over into his tight little tunnel, feeling like it's never going to stop.

It ends almost as abruptly as it began. For what I'd guess is only a few seconds, I lie right where I am, gasping for breath even worse than I would at the end of a track race, my heart thumping against Sacha's back.

Eventually, I've recovered sufficiently to gently withdraw. Wow! Fucking Patrick was good, but it wasn't even close to that! I am in bits! My balls feel like they've been squeezed dry, and my cock's so sensitive, I can't bear to touch it.

"Are you okay?" I ask, helping Sacha up onto all-fours.

"Yeah! That was fantastic!" he says, climbing off the bed. "You make lots of spunk, don't you?"

"Quite a bit," I admit.

"I need the toilet now."

A little awkwardly, he makes his way out of the bedroom, my spunk trickling down his legs. A few minutes later, he and Lucas are back. After they've pulled on their clothes, Anthony and I give them each a goodbye kiss. Standing by the outside door, we watch them head towards the town centre.

"Did you ask them to meet us tomorrow?" I query.

"Of course! It's our last day, man! I wasn't going to miss an opportunity like that! Anyway, they jumped at it."

"Okay then, I guess. Are we going to stick to the same pairings, or do you want to swap over?"

"I'm not sure," Anthony says. "I quite fancy going with Sacha. I mean, he's got such a fuckable little arse, and he absolutely loves it! But Lucas and I made a real connection, man! He is well into me! Maybe we should give them the choice?"

"Yeah," I agree. "That'd be good."

I stroll back into the bedroom, wondering what I've got myself into. I begin to tidy my bed. That's when I notice. Sacha told me he could cum, and he has. There's a wet patch on the pillow-slip. Shit! I, of all people, should have known that might happen. As a temporary measure, I turn the pillow the other way up. I'll find a more permanent solution later.

I check my watch. It's just gone half past five. I begin by sending a text to Mum and Dad. That's easy. As they're going home today, I'm not sure where they'll be, so I keep it fairly short.

Now I have to call Scott. Given what I've just done, I'm not looking forward to it. In the event, it's quite straightforward. Knowing that we'll be seeing each other in a couple of days, we don't talk for long. I think you call that 'Mission accomplished'.

It's Thursday morning, our final day before we return to England. It's almost seven o'clock. I've just visited the bathroom to empty my bladder. As usual at this time, Anthony's in my bed. Pulling off my boxers, I slide in next to him.

"Are you okay now?" he asks, giving me a wry grin.

Last night, we did a sixty-nine. He came; I didn't. After shooting my biggest-ever load up Sacha's bum, I was too drained.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I tell him.

"So are you going to cum this morning, or are you saving it for later?"

"I'm going to cum. We've got ages!"

"Fair enough."

"Are we meeting them on the seafront?"

"No. Miles will be around. That could make things awkward. I've told them to meet us by the entrance to the Musée Picasso at quarter to four. If we pack our stuff away about half past three, we can say goodbye to Miles, and tell him that we have to go back to the apartment to get packed ready for tomorrow. On the way back, we'll make a small diversion via the museum."

"Could we change that a bit?" I ask. "I'd quite like to visit the museum; I haven't been there yet. If we pack up about one o'clock, we can take the chairs and easels round to Justin's place, then come back here for lunch. That'll leave us time to visit the museum before meeting Lucas and Sacha."

"Yeah, that'll work!" Anthony agrees. "I went to the museum last year, but I wouldn't mind going again."

He draws me into a sensuous kiss. I respond instantly. I'm looking forward to this. After a good night's sleep, I'm more than ready.

The last few hours have simply flown past. Miles has looked at my work several times. It's been positive comments all the way. He hasn't suggested that I change anything. At five to one, Anthony and I begin to pack away.

"Are you guys on your way now?" Miles asks coming across to us.

"Yes," I respond. "This afternoon, we're going to the museum because I haven't been yet. Then we've got to get packed ready for tomorrow." I pause, taking a deep breath. "I'd just like to thank you for all the help you've given me," I add. "It's been fantastic!"

"Well, I'm pleased that you've found it useful," he says quietly. "You've produced some excellent work, this morning especially."

"Oh, it's been more than useful," I assure him. "It's been amazing!"

"Well, it's been no problem at all. I've really enjoyed working with you. Just keep it going. Both you and Anthony have bright futures ahead of you."

"Thanks!" I say, giving him a beaming smile.

It's time to go. In a way, I'm sad to be leaving. Justin described Miles as 'one of the good guys.' In my eyes, he's much more than that.

Having taken the chairs and easels back to Justin's place, we return to the apartment. We quickly make ourselves a snack lunch of crusty bread rolls, cooked meat, lettuce and tomatoes, followed by fresh fruit and chocolate ice cream.

"I'm going to have a shower," I announce, "and put some clean clothes on."

"That sounds like a plan!" Anthony agrees.

I get to go first, quickly washing off the morning's dust. As soon as I've wiped myself down, I head back to the bedroom to finish getting dry while Anthony takes his turn.

It doesn't take long. My hair's still quite damp, but with the temperature at around thirty degrees, that's hardly a problem. I reach into my bag and take out the shorts and football top that Scott gave me a few days before we came out here. I've yet to wear them. Well, today's the day. I slip them on just before Anthony reappears.

"Like the shorts!" he comments.

As it goes, I like them too. They're a good fit, and when I'm standing up, you can see around six inches of my thighs.

"Yeah," I acknowledge. "Scott gave them to me."

"Is that replica kit then?"

"Yeah. It's what they'll wear for home games."

"Cool!" he says, starting to get dressed.

"The only problem is that I've got no pockets." I take a ten euro note from my wallet. "Could you look after that for me?"

"Sure!" He eyes me for a moment. "Hey, are you going commando?"

I grin and nod.

"Nice one!" he says, grinning back.

"I've seen some pictures of my dad and his brother when they were growing up," I say quietly. "I think Dad was thirteen and his brother was eleven. You should see the shorts they had on! There's no way you could have gone commando wearing those! Well, not if you'd got anything more than a tiddler!"

"So when was that?"

"About 1980."

"Yeah, they wore them really short back then."

"And there were some pictures of them on the beach dressed in these skimpy little speedos. They left nothing to the imagination!"

"It's weird, man!" he says. "Girls still wear all that really skimpy stuff, but boys don't. How did that happen?"

When you delve into its history, the Musée Picasso is a pretty amazing place. There's been a major building on the site for thousands of years, beginning with a Greek acropolis, followed by a Roman fort and a medieval bishopric. The present building, which used to be known as Grimaldi Castle, was built at the beginning of the fourteenth century.

In 1966, it became the Musée Picasso, and over the years since, it has built up an extensive collection of works by Picasso and other twentieth century artists. The whole building was completely refurbished a couple of years ago.

In a way, it seems strange to house cutting-edge modern artworks in such an ancient building. All I can say is that it works; at least for me it does. I'm so glad we came. The place has had me spellbound for almost ninety minutes.

With the time approaching quarter to four, we stroll out into the sunshine. Lucas and Sasha are already there, waiting for us. Seeing them again, I get an instant hard-on. Okay, so maybe wearing footy shorts with nothing under them wasn't such a great idea. Hiding it's going to be nigh on impossible.

After an exchange of fist-bumps, we set off for the apartment. We don't talk a great deal, but there's a sort of tension in the air; you can almost touch it. Finally, we're back. Once we're safely inside, we begin to relax.

"Who wants a drink?" Anthony asks.

It's a hot day; we all do, large glasses of coke with plenty of ice, just like yesterday. As he's the one who can speak English, Anthony and I take Lucas to one side.

"What would you and Sacha like to do today?" Anthony asks.

"I'll need to ask Sacha," he says.

"Okay; come back and tell us."

Lucas moves away to chat to his friend. My French isn't bad, but they're talking too fast and too quietly for me to make out more than the odd word. After a couple of minutes, they both join us.

"What we'd really like is for me to fuck Sacha first," Lucas says. "Afterwards, Ian can fuck Sacha and you can fuck me, while I suck Sacha's dick."

Anthony and I look at each other. Our blank expressions speak for us. We don't have a problem with the idea; we just can't get our heads round how we're going to do it.

"Okay," Anthony says, "but how does it work?"

Sacha gabbles something to Lucas.

"Don't worry," the bigger lad says, grinning. "We'll show you!"

'Okay,' I tell myself. 'These kids have more experience than we do. Get over it.'

"Before we get to that," Anthony says. "We'd like to undress you, and you undress us. Then we'll mess about for a few minutes. And we'll pair up the opposite way from yesterday; you'll be with Ian, Sacha with me, okay?"

"Sacha doesn't want you to fuck him," Lucas says, sounding concerned. "He says you're too big. He had a bad experience."

"That's cool," Anthony assures him. "I was just talking about the start. We won't go that far."


"When you're fucking Sacha, can you have him on all-fours? Is that okay?"

"Sure," Lucas assures him.

"And don't touch his cock. Leave him horny."

"Okay," Lucas agrees. "After I've done it, you'll need to give me a few minutes. Let me get hard again."

"No problem!" Anthony says, grinning. "Right! Let's do it!"

We stroll into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Lucas follows me to my bed. After kicking off our footwear, we set about undressing each other. With our tops removed, he draws me to him, running his hands right down my back.

It feels totally different from being with Sacha. Although we're the same height, Lucas is bigger than I am; broader across the shoulders, with stronger-looking arms and bigger hands. Instead of Sacha's eager, playful fingers, I'm being massaged by Lucas's strong, gentle ones.

I set to work on his denim shorts, undoing the top button and pulling down the zip. Running my hands around his waist, I push them off his hips. As they fall to the floor, he kicks them off, leaving him dressed just in a pair of skin-tight black trunks that reach about three inches down his thighs.

Having untied the drawstring of my footy shorts, he returns the favour, his eyes widening as he realises that I'm naked underneath.

"Beautiful!" he whispers, running his fingers along my shaft.

Mmmm! He is so sexy! His touch is electrifying. In other circumstances, I'd have let him fuck me all day long if he wanted to. But we're not going there.

Those trunks have to go. With them being so tight, I have to skin them right down his legs. Okay, that's one area where he isn't bigger than me, his uncut cock not quite as long as mine and still fairly slim, his pubic hair just starting to come in. We snuggle up on the bed. He kisses beautifully. I'm so glad we did this.

"How do you and Sacha know each other?" I ask.

"We go to the same dance school," he tells me. "I've been dancing since I was six."

"And how did you get into, . . . you know?"

"When I was eleven, I went with one of the older boys. He was my hero, a wonderful dancer. I'd have done anything for him."

"And did you?"

"Not straightaway. It took a while, but yes. What about you?"

"I was thirteen. I'd known I was into boys for nearly a year, but I'd never had the chance to do anything. Then I met this boy in the park. He was fourteen, cute, beautiful cock. We went back to the apartment where he lived with his mum."

"And what happened?"

"He took my cherry. I wasn't ready for it. It hurt like hell."

"That's not good! D'you like sixty-nines?"

"Yeah! Come on!"

Oh, yes! We are tailor-made for it! We couldn't possibly fit together any better; it's perfect! I'm totally getting into it when Lucas stops me.

"Not yet!" he says, his prick sliding out of my mouth.

"Are you ready for Sacha then?"

"Always!" he says, grinning.

Across on the other bed, Anthony's lying on his back. Horny little Sacha is kneeling right over him, taking Anthony's teen cock right down his throat. I go across and tap him on the shoulder.

"Lucas is ready for you," I say quietly.

Releasing Anthony's glistening prong, he gets to his feet. Giving me a cheeky grin, he trots over to my bed, where Lucas is waiting for him. Anthony and I sit down next to each other, watching them.

"Fuck, man!" Anthony whispers. "He is something else! Did he tell you he was raped by his gym coach?"


"That's bad, man! Apparently, the guy's gone now."

"Did he say where?"

"Reckons he doesn't know. The guy just went, yeah?"

"Sounds like somebody found out what he was up to and gave him the bum's rush."

"Yeah, probably."

Over on my bed, Sacha is down on all fours, moaning and whimpering, pretty well begging for more. Kneeling behind, Lucas is pumping his stiff cock in and out of his younger friend's bum.

"That's hot, man!" Anthony whispers.

"Why did you want them to do it like that?"

"The way you did him yesterday, I couldn't see very much."

"Oh, right! Have you seen this sort of thing before?"

"I've seen it on video. Not kids of course; I'm not that stupid. Twinks, yeah?"

He's talking about eighteen and nineteen-year olds who look younger than they are. Even when he was younger, Anthony's computer didn't have the parental controls activated, so he's been watching gay porn since he was twelve.

"What about you?" he asks.

"Only you, yesterday."


On my bed, things are reaching a crescendo. Lucas is totally going for it, fucking Sacha's cute little bum like it's going out of fashion.

"Ohhhh!" he growls, then gabbles something in French. I've a pretty good idea what it means. Grabbing the tops of Sacha's thighs, he plunges right in.

"Ohh! Ohh! Ohhhh!" he rasps.

Anthony and I turn towards each other. "Wow!" we mouth, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.

A few seconds later, Lucas slowly pulls out.

"Have you sussed out how this is going to work?" Anthony asks.

"No, but I'm sure it'll be okay."

"I hope it's not too ambitious. I know you can tie yourself in knots, but I can't!"

"Don't worry! It'll be fine!"

"Okay! I'll give you the word when Lucas is ready."

I return to my own bed, with Lucas heading the other way. Lying on my back, I pull Sacha over on top of me.

"So how was that?" I ask in my best French.

"Nice, but not as good as when you do it."

Okay, so he really does like my cock.

"Do you need the toilet?"

"No; Lucas doesn't squirt very much."

That figures. It's why he'll be ready to go again in a few minutes. I'm the complete opposite. If I have a really spectacular cum, like I did yesterday, I'll be out of action for hours.

Over the next few minutes, we kiss, we fondle, we suck. It's all very low-key, like a bit of R&R before the main event. Sacha's an absolute delight to be with. I could stay here all day if we had the time.

"Can we meet you again tomorrow?" he asks.

"Sorry! We've got to go back to England."

"You go back tomorrow?"

"Yes. Sorry, that's just how it is."

He looks crestfallen. I gently stroke his hair.

"Let's just make the most of today," I suggest.

"Yeah, okay."

Finally, Anthony gives us the call.

"Right, mister!" I say brightly. "How do we do this?"

Picking up the pillow, he moves it to the foot of the bed.

"You lie there," he says. "On your back."

I move into position, lying on my back with my head down at the foot of the bed. I'm still not getting it, but he seems to know what he's doing. For his next move, he kneels astride my chest. We're moving onto familiar territory now. If I've got it right, I've done this with both Dean and Patrick. Sure enough, Sacha reaches back, takes hold of my dick, and lowers himself onto it.

The light is starting to dawn. I've got a pretty good idea what'll happen next. Right on cue, Lucas stands at the foot of the bed, his knees on either side of my head. He bends over, resting his hands on the mattress.

A moment later, Anthony moves in behind him. OMG! My entire field of vision is taken up by the sight of my friend's thick, six-inch cock steadily disappearing into Lucas's bum. Fuck! And I thought yesterday was hot!

Lowering his head and shoulders, Lucas goes down on Sacha's dick. With the final connection now in place, we're off and running. Sacha expertly rides my cock, simultaneously thrusting his own prick into Lucas's mouth. Directly above me, Anthony is remorselessly fucking Lucas's firm, shapely arse.

The sensations are indescribable; the experience way beyond anything I could have imagined. I've had some pretty wild one-on-one sex over the past few years. This has taken things to a whole other level.

What Sacha's doing to my cock is addling my brain. I'm not sure I'll ever be the same! Slowly, inexorably, I feel myself getting closer and closer. Without really thinking about it, I reach up, wrapping my fingers around Lucas's throbbing dick.

Within a few seconds, everything goes, like, totally bonkers. As Lucas's boy-juice is making landfall on my stomach, Sacha grabs the fourteen-year old's head, pumping his watery cum into his friend's mouth, while his bum-hole goes into spasm around my prick.

"Fill me up!" he squeals, pushing himself right down on my prong.

It jerks violently, my hips pushing up off the bed. It feels like he's milking me, his hot little tunnel relentlessly sucking out my spunk until I've no more left to give.

As my orgasm subsides, I look up. Anthony's stopped moving. I know what that means. A few seconds later, he steps back, his cock sliding smoothly out. Immediately, Lucas stands up, releasing Sacha's prick. Finally, the younger lad is able to lift himself clear. Once again, he's leaking profusely.

Lucas and Sacha disappear into the bathroom. Anthony and I pull on some clothes. We don't talk; I guess we're both too shell-shocked. A few minutes later, our guests are back with us.

"So you're going home tomorrow?" Lucas says, starting to get dressed.

"I'm afraid so," I answer.

"We're going to miss you," he adds.

"We're going to miss you too," I tell him. "The last two days have been amazing."

Anthony and I stand at the door to the building as Lucas and Sacha head back towards the town centre. As they finally disappear from view, we return to the apartment. Anthony closes the door.

"Fuck, man!" he swears, his eyes out on stalks. "I wasn't expecting that!"

"I wasn't either," I agree. "We went way further than I thought we would."

"Fuck!" he repeats. "It was obvious they'd done it before. Jesus! Somebody's been getting them into some seriously bad habits!"

There's nothing I can say. I won't forget that encounter anytime soon.

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