7-14 - La belle France.

Cultured, sophisticated and sexy as hell...the French are sensual people and sex is not shameful there. Ah, did I mention France is beautiful?

WARNING

This blog does contain adult and gay material. If you are under your country's legal age (18 or 21), do not scroll down and leave this page now.

Thanks

By Richard de Orizaba

The French are a wonderful bunch. They are proud, literate, tolerant and fun. Some say they are arrogant but I have not found that to be so. Of course, if you go to France and expect to read American newspapers, eat hamburgers with ketchup, listen to rock and only speak English then you might as well stay home or go to Branson, Mo.

But if you are willing to immerse yourself in the culture, even if you speak but a few words of the language, the French you will find are a terrific people. Now, not only are they great in a cultural sense, but the men in France are absolutely devastating. Not the most handsome, not the best builds, not the biggest cocks, although I found some very well hung men, but absolutely adorable and loveable. They are by nature passionate and devoid of the hang ups that we are so used to in our gay subculture. These men are uninhibited and good lovers for the most part; I did not bed anyone that was not at least adequate in bed, and most were downright hot.

I rented an apartment in the city of Vincennes, former seat of the French Crown only a few blocks from the Chateau where the royal family lived until they settled in the complex that now houses the Louvre Museum. The apartment was located at the end of an interior courtyard in a building that was more than three hundred years old on the Boulevard de la Liberation. It carried a hefty price but it was exquisitely furnished and had two bedrooms, one split bath (the toilet in a small closet in the hallway) a tub and shower in the main bedroom and a small guest bedroom that must have been designated to accommodate a live-in maid. The kitchen was microscopic, you actually had to step outside if you wanted to fart, but the salon was grand and elegant, with very high ceilings and a small balcony with flower baskets hanging from the edge. The balcony was not totally private as it was also the access to the apartment on my right, but it was mostly empty for the year as the owner lived in the maritime Seychelles.

If you know Vincennes, then you would be familiar with the park Bois de Vincennes that is gigantic in proportion and is behind the Chateau de Vincennes.

My apartment was conveniently located just a few blocks from the last Metro station on the number 1 line at the Chateau de Vincennes station on Avenue de Paris. The Bois de Vincennes Park boasts to having a Botanical Garden and extensive areas of natural forest. The activities in the park are varied, for families there are boat rides, nature walks, games of all sorts and even a couple of restaurants.

There is also a very distinct and busy prostitution business. It consists of small vans or panel trucks that are parked alongside the park roads and the prostitutes operate from there. It is marvelous to watch the caravan of cars that drive up and down these park roads looking for the right prostitute. Once they have made contact, the “johns” go inside the van, the van rocks back and forth a lot and they come out ten or twenty minutes later with a smile on their face. It goes on, everyone knows it, and the police do little to deter it. Just one more way the French have to apply the concept of “live and let live”.

I had two years of French in high school and then four years in college. My French was excellent although they said I spoke it with a Spanish accent: no surprise there. But it was more than adequate to interface with the people and even more helpful in opening up conversations with the good looking French men. I would pick them up everywhere: the sidewalk cafés, the bars, the park Bois de Vincennes near my house, the baths I frequented: Bains d’Odessa in Montparnasse, in short, Paris is a veritable meat rack.

It happened as follows: On my second day in Paris, after having gone to see the apartment and moved in my things, I went to a sidewalk café and in the table next to me there sat a very tall, handsome black dude whom I thought was not French and turned out to be from Cote D’Ivoire. We started to talk and I invited him to come to the apartment. One thing led to another and it was not long before we were embracing and I was feeling the biggest cock since Hans Romer. The mother fucker was easily 13 inches and I could tell by rubbing my hand over the pants that he was cut. Strange that it was cut but then I started to put two and two together and the conclusion was that Muslims do circumcise their infants. His name was Pierre Hassain and he wanted to fuck me. I did not want to disappoint him and went down on him first to see if I could at least get it into my mouth. I struggled some and finally got the head in, feeling while I was stretching that the side of the mouth was sort of ripping. I said to myself that if this humongous schlong does this to my mouth; imagine what is going to do to my pretty Mexican ass.

As I was going down on this African God, I started to remember what I had learned when sucking Han’s cock and how I was able to please him. I engulfed the head with my mouth and then went up and down with my hands. Pierre seemed to like it but was still interested in my rear end. He was not going to desist. I filled myself with courage and pulled out the lube from my bag as I still was unpacked and applied some to my asshole and a lot to his cock. I told him “doucement, si vous plait”, take it easy buddy, this ass gets fucked but not by a monster like yours.

Pierre was able to penetrate me but the pain was unbearable, it was not possible for him to put all of that meat inside of me, so I told him to only go half way. He had faced this problem before, of that I am certain, and so he agreed. The truth is that the pain never turned to pleasure and it was a good thing that Pierre blew his load very fast. When we were finished, I served him a cordial and he said he did not drink. How stupid of me, Muslims do not touch alcohol. Then Pierre left.

The following evening, after I was through unpacking, buying a few necessities like cleaners and detergent, I thought I should at least treat myself to dinner. I ate in a bistro called “Chez Julien” and got a pretty decent meal. Afterwards, I thought I should try my luck at a local bar in the Marais that I had visited in another trip to France. It was even more cruisy and fun than before.
I had quite a few guys coming on to me but I finally hit it off with a fellow from Martinique. His name was Philippe and was a bit shorter than I, with the beautiful roast coffee color skin and what appeared to be a very well built body.

We rode the Metro to my apartment and he was very talkative. I was still trying to adjust to the French he spoke, sort of Creole with a very Caribbean slant. As we sat in the train, I could not avoid admiring his beautiful face and the most perfect set of teeth I have yet to see. Philippe was a student and he told me he was only twenty years old. That made him exactly ten years younger than I.

When we got to my house, it was rather late and I fixed us a drink. He was not too much into drinking as he made it clear that he was a body builder, but he accepted anyhow. He did have a magnificent body with heavy tats over his right shoulder and arm and also on his thighs and back. That made it so much more appealing to me. Soon after arriving and while toasting to both our self imposed exiles, the love making began. Philippe was a great kisser and I had gone to the bathroom to freshen up. I douched and brushed my teeth while he watched television. I did not want to have bad breath as I had been to the bar and had smoked and had a couple of drinks.
The kissing turned to body exploration and Philippe was very impressed by the condition my body was in and even more with my cock. He was almost worshiping it. I went down on him and then went after his beautiful black ass. As I rimmed him, I could sense that he was allowing me because in the end, he wanted to get fucked. Not that he needed to be a bottom, he had a very respectable 8 inch dick. But Philippe was not inhibited and for sure would welcome my dick into his ass.

I did not want to insist, but the heat of the moment was such that after sucking his ass for a bit, I pressed the head of my cock on the opening of his hole and it gave. If Paradise is attainable, this was just a preview. I imagine I would be sucking and fucking all day and all night if only I could have someone as pretty and as well built as Philippe in heaven. I came to a full orgasm and Philippe was just getting started. He begged me to put my dick back inside his hole and pump some more. After about ten more minutes, Philippe announced he was about to shoot his load. I pulled out and knelt in front of him in order to suck him off and catch his Caribbean juice: and how sweet and plentiful it was.

On the third day, after a long working schedule, (I was in France to write a series of articles about the French and how they opposed the Iraq War, when in America we even renamed French fries “Freedom fries” and dumped a lot of French wine down the drain)

I thought I would fix myself something to eat, rest a while then go to the baths. The Bains D’Odessa are almost a Paris institution. There are others in Paris, at least a dozen, as the French love gay sex as much as they love their food and their wine. These baths are teeming with handsome young men. It seems as if the only old trolls are either foreigners or a few French businessmen that are getting away from their wives. I have always had luck at these baths and tonight was going to be a night to remember.

The first place I hit was the video lounge. The films were extraordinary and there were about four good looking studs playing with themselves as they watched. One of these, a young blondish twink noticed me and he realized I had a big dick and he moved over next to me and started to play with my cock. Soon he went down on me and the other guys got closer to get a front row seat. It wasn’t long before I had hands on my chest, in my crack and then one stood up and put his beautiful uncut dick in my mouth. He was so horny that it only took a few minutes of my sucking his dick when he rewarded with a mouthful of semen. The guy on my dick was very good and I blew my first load in his mouth when the stud I was sucking blew his load. Two others followed and I sucked off both of them.

I took a shower and went into the spa. Sitting at the edge I saw this dude with bleached hair, the deepest tan and most muscular body. His cock was big but cut. He motioned me to come over and suck him. I was more than happy to please him, then this other young guy with the best bubble butt sat next to him and I was playing with his ass.

This went on for a few minutes when the guy with the beautiful ass invited us to his room. All three of us went and it was clear who was going to get fucked. After entering the room, I positioned myself in front of him and he bent a little to suck my dick. Mr. bleached hair then went behind him and just fucked the shit out of him. He was loving it, panting and moaning until he was about to blow his load. The guy fucking him must have because I sensed this guy was about to cum and I went down on him so he could finish. He did and then I came too.

I needed a break, after just a little over an hour; I had been fucked, fucked a couple of dudes, and sucked at least a half a dozen dicks. I went to the refreshment area and there I met Fabricio. He was a hustler, no question about it, but he was so beautiful that I started to come on to him. I found out that he was Cuban. He was making remarks and boasting of how big his cock was. He said to me that I had to pay him in order for him to fuck me. I told him that maybe he had not noticed but that I had a pretty large member myself. It got to the point where it became a contest. I said: Ok, mi amiguito, let’s do it this way: If your cock is bigger than mine, then I let you fuck me and will pay you what you are asking……what is it?” He said: “Two hundred dollars” That is steep even for Paris. “And if it is bigger than yours?” Then you can fuck me and it is free.

Interesting proposition, I thought. “Let’s find out” and we went into one of the booths and he got it hard. I was already almost hard just looking at him, as he was very handsome, and I dropped my towel and I knew then that Viagra really works. When he saw my schlong, his mouth dropped. He said: “I guess I am going to get fucked, papi”. I told him that I was not so cruel. If he really was attracted and interested, then we would do it. I was not holding him to make good on the bet.

Fabricio then told me that he was a man of his word and besides, he thought that I was hot, that he gets tired of being a top and once in a while he welcomes some cute guy with a big dick to fuck him. Off to my cabin we went and this Cuban was hot to trot. He had my dick inside his ass so fast it was remarkable. Oh, yes, he could take it, all and could have taken more. He wanted to think he was a top, but with me he had to bottom, furthermore, he was enjoying it. “Papi, méteme esa pinga rica, síngame el culo, anda, papi, mas duro, métemela toda” (Daddy, put that delicious cock in me, fuck my ass, come on, daddy, harder, put it all inside) For a cute guy who is a top and makes a living that way, he sure did love having my big dick up his ass and he came once I turned him around and started to fuck him hard while I sucked him at the same time.
I left the baths kind of late and the Metro was not operating at that time so I had to catch a taxi, and they are expensive. That night I slept like a rock. I mean, I should not need sex for at least two or three days.

I woke up the next morning around nine, took a shower and since it was still cold, bundled up for a very cold spring morning. I headed down to a local café which they still had enclosed to keep out the cold and ordered breakfast. You know, café au lait, the obligatory croissants and confit with the best butter I ever had. While I was having breakfast, the sun decided to grace us with its presence. Where I was sitting, it actually warmed up so much that I had to shed my long coat. It was going to be a nice day.



I sat at my computer and worked for a while, and then I looked outside and saw beautiful blue skies. I was pretty far along with my article so I decided to take a walk. I walked by Vincennes City Hall, then past the Chateau, in front of the Floral Park and deep into the park. It seems that the nice weather brought out everyone for a stroll. As I crossed in front of Floral Park and Arboretum, I noticed a real good looking guy in jogging clothes. He was stretching and then bent down to hold his ankles with his hands and it was meant for me to notice his ass. He succeeded; I thought he had a nice ass, now what?

This fellow was real cute, in his late twenties, a real jock if you ask me. So he got ahead of me and headed deep into the park. He took a path just at the edge of this fence protecting a nature habitat area and I was following him now. Walking about ten paces behind, he abandoned the path and went into a clearing that was very secluded. He leaned or halfway sat on a log and started to rub his crotch. Sure, I would do him in a New York minute. “Bon jour, il fait beu, le ciel est bleu, ny’a pas de nuages” So he answered in English: “I am sorry, I am afraid I don’t speak French” The bastard was British. “That’s all right mate, I am American”, and a smile invaded his face.

“You speak French well, I have been trying to learn, and actually I am very awkward with languages” I told him at one point I had been too, English had not been my native language and had a hell of a time learning it. He said he detected a Texas drawl, not a Spanish accent, once I told him I was Tex-Mex. So I asked him point blank what he was looking for. He said a little fun, maybe some fooling around. I then put my hand on his crotch and determined that this chap was well hung. He did the same to me and was about to go down on me when I asked him if he thought this was a safe place. He said it was and that he had been coming here over the years and never saw anyone get in trouble. Once in a while they would have a helicopter buzzing about but you could hear the engine a mile away. Other than that, the cops would leave you be.

So he told me his name was Niles and he dropped to his knees, pulled down my zipper and out came Charlie, in all its glory, hard as a rock. Niles took a second look and commented that it was a very large one and wrapped his lips around my dick. I let him suck for a while and when I was getting close; I pulled away, helped him to his feet and wanted to go after his cock. The temperature must have been around 65 or so but we took off our shirts anyhow. Now we were almost naked, with our pants down around our ankles and feeling each other’s body. Niles had a great build, totally white as English people tend to be since they are devoid of sun to get tanned. But his dick was delightful. It was rather large, at least nine inches and uncut. It was white like the rest of him with a lot of veins to make it more attractive. He hardly had any pubic hair to speak of but his armpits were terrific. He had been running or exercising and the sweet, manly musk was driving me insane. He had a tat on his right bicep, so it was clear that he was a bottom. I licked those pits and sucked his nipples. Niles was panting, begging for more. I then sat on the leaf covered floor and brought his dick to my mouth. I told him, “Fuck my mouth stud”. He was shoving it all the way into the depths of my throat and once there, I applied the gargling effect. He kept it there for a few seconds and warned of his impending orgasm. I just doubled the pace and he goes: “Ho, oh, bloody shit, mother of God, I am, I am, I am cuuuuuummmming! And he came loads of English cream. I blew my load as well at that point. We parted ways and I never saw Niles again, I suspect he went back to his homeland.



How ironic! I have been in France for five days now and I have not been able to have sex with anyone French. The baths of course don’t count as there all you have is anonymous sex. I had to rectify that. It was the weekend and I thought I should go into the city and visit some of the familiar landmarks, you know the Eiffel Tower, L’Arc de Triumph, Sacre Coeur, Champs Elysees. I would make today a day to rediscover Paris.

Walking a lot and taking the Metro, I got around pretty well. I knew Paris like the palm of my hand and never got lost until today. I took the wrong train and ended up somewhere near La Defense. I knew more or less where I was but did not know how to get back, at least not to be able to catch the Metro or where the closest Metro station was. So I went to lunch instead.
I went to this restaurant that was packed. Being so full of French patrons is an indication that the food is good. I sat down and this drop dead gorgeous waiter finally came to take my order.
I asked him to suggest something and he said he would surprise me. I take chances but I was a bit hesitant. About half an hour later he came back with the most delicious entrecote with a side dish of potatoes Lyonese, followed by Poires au vin, Pears in red wine. It was incredibly good.

At the end of the meal, it took him a while to bring the bill. When he did, most everyone had left the joint. I suppose that it was too nice a day to spend sitting at a table in a restaurant even for the French who take hours to consume a meal. The waiter was now with less stress and actually came with the bill and told me: “Je m’apelle Thierry” It was a pleasure serving you. I did the unthinkable. I said to him: “Actually Thierry, the pleasure was mine, all mine, not only was the food great but being able to look at you was even better” Very daring and forward of me. He smiled and said that he would be getting off in less than an hour, would I care to join him for a drink?

Wow! I never thought it would work, but the guy actually took my hook, and I am not all that good in French nuances. I hung around the restaurant over coffee and then he was off work. He told me he lived nearby if I would care to come and visit him. I of course accepted. We walked for about twenty minutes and since I had been walking all morning I was beginning to feel it in my legs. Surely I would pay the price tomorrow with pain in my feet. So we passed a sidewalk café and I suggested we stopped for a beer.

We had a couple of brews and then went on to his place. This pit stop served a double purpose: first I had to rest my legs and feet, second, I wanted to make sure this guy was for real and even as beautiful as he was, I was not sure I wanted to have sex with him. My hesitation soon went away when we sat down and I was able to look at his pretty face. He was only 23 and was born in Avignon. He lived with a roommate and sort of insinuated that there was some kind of relationship there but that he was about to end the affair. At least that is what I gathered from what he said, not understanding everything as he spoke way too fast. So I asked him where his “coupin” was and he said at work and would not get home until way past eleven that evening.
We got to his apartment and it was so small I nearly got claustrophobia. He said that they did not need anything bigger since they were seldom home. He ate at the restaurant and only used the apartment to sleep. Well, almost all, he told me that once in a while he would have a guest. We embraced when we entered and he excused himself to go to the john. The kiss had not come yet. When he came out, he was wearing a silk housecoat, open in the front to reveal his chest and he then came over to kiss me. I guess he had to brush his teeth. I did worry about my own breath, but there is nothing other than the mints I took to mask any unpleasant odor. This kiss was long and sweet, he had a manly smell and I opened his housecoat to reveal a beautiful body, then I untied it and it dropped to the floor, leaving Thierry totally nude in front of me. I quickly got rid of my shirt and lowered my pants and Thierry said: “Uh la la, mon Dieu! And grabbed my cock. I immediately went for his nipples and on to his glorious armpits. What a joy it is to lick armpits that have no deodorant and smell the way a man is supposed to smell, not like a petunia. They were thick and bushy and Thierry was such a pretty guy. His cock was nice too, uncut and large.
Thierry had no limits; there is nothing he would not do. He told me he wanted to do everything with me, suck, get sucked, fuck, get fucked. But I asked him what it was he preferred. He said usually was a top but that I had such a big cock that he wanted to get fucked by it. And the sucking continued, first sixty nine, and then I went for his ass. Thierry was clean down there so I had a blast tongue fucking him and he just loved it. I then put his legs on my shoulders and proceeded to attempt penetration. I did not go in right away, first I bent and started to suck him, then very gently I presented the head, pushed it in a little and it met no resistance. I was now inside Thierry, bareback.


“C’est bon” It is good, he said, so I increased the pace as I took longer and deeper thrusts into his hole. I sensed that he was about to shoot, so I would slow down some, then it was obvious he was going to cum so I pulled out altogether. That stopped it, but the next time I went in, I put his dick in my mouth and started pumping away again and now he really shot his wad. I savored each and every drop and filled his hole with my own man juice. How he loved this.
Thierry gave me his phone number and guided me to the Metro. I returned home and did not even go out for supper; I was so spent and satisfied. I must have slept for about three hours and thought it was morning or at least three or four in the morning. It was only eleven. I got myself dressed up, stepped into the street and reached Avenue de Paris in front of the Chateau. This main drag is very cruisy at night and all kinds of people are walking up and down looking for a hook up or just strolling.


It was very busy that night, after all, Sunday night is like the witching hour, if you have not gotten laid by then you are desperate to find something before the night is over. Not my case, I had sex the day before and then in the afternoon. I even had a few hours of sleep and was hot to trot. There were quite a few good looking guys walking about. Some older men too, I suppose they would be paying for sex. The important thing is that I sat at a sidewalk café to have some chocolate and there must have been a dozen that went by and kept their eyes on me. One even ran into someone walking the opposite direction because he was cruising me so hard.

Finally there was this one doll that must have passed at least three times and he smiled while our eyes met. I motioned him to come over and he did. He sat down and I asked him if he would accept a coffee or something else. He said that coffee was what he wanted. He introduced himself: “Benoit, Je suis tres content de faire votre conaissance”. (Benoit, I am happy to meet you) “Je m’apelle Ricard”. After all the pleasantries, the coffee arrived and he was looking at me so intently, trying to figure me out. He finally asked: “You are not French, are you? Benoit was from a small village in La Mayenne that I actually had visited. The name of the village is Laissay au Chateau, and I went in one of my trips because there is a great medieval castle there. He was astonished that I was an American and even more impressed that I knew where his village was and that I had visited it.

Benoit was the typical super educated, refined Frenchman. His manner of speech and his demeanor all spoke of a privileged upbringing. He was a civil servant with a high position in the French Government. I did not ask any further, thinking I might not be discreet. Benoit invited me to come to his house which was not far from Vincennes. He had a car and said he parked just a couple of blocks away. I accepted the invitation as this guy was nice looking and his formality and being so proper inspired trust and made him more enigmatic. We finished our coffee and walked over to his car. It was one of those expensive Mercedes, dark gray and new. I complimented him on his car and told him I had a BMW back home but it was not as luxurious as his.
We arrived at this beautiful house in Montreuil and it was magnificent. The electronic gates opened and we went into an underground garage. There was not too much land as all the houses are very close together, but what little he had in the front was exquisitely landscaped and there was an elegant front entrance. The house was three stories, the last one with elliptical dormers and a Mansard roof. All in all from the outside the house looked sumptuous. Of course we came in through the back way as the garage is located downstairs and I noticed there were four other cars, all classics, all in shinny and new looking. The stairs from the basement garage comes right up to a hallway in the back of the kitchen. I thought all kitchens in Paris were small, this must have been the exception, and it was state of the art. He had every imaginable gadget and modern appliance.

As we were reaching the top of the stairs, Benoit stopped to let me catch up. He caught me and embraced me. We had our first kiss there. Boy, he felt good in my arms. His two day beard felt masculine and even though you could tell he was clean, he had that masculine smell only men who don’t wear deodorant can produce. I was turned on when I saw him and now I was dying to go to bed with him. We got to a sitting room and he said this was his library and office and offered me a cognac from a wet bar he had behind a bookcase, sort of a lazy Susan set up. And we toasted and kissed. Then the embrace was more invasive as his hands started to explore my body. Benoit was one hot dude at this point. We began to undress and he was leading me upstairs, past a very elegant foyer with marble floors and a semi-circular stair. As we climbed, we were leaving articles of clothing, shoes, sox, all in a tell tale sequence to mark our trajectory. Once we were in this room, it was dark and I was not able to make out much of the surroundings. My eyes began to adjust and I realized that it was an orgy type room, with all the accoutrements like a swing and leather goods, dildoes, and other unimaginable things.
Benoit was hiding a very wild side underneath that prim and proper persona. He was as hot as they come and judging by his set up, the guy was sex crazy. He was down on his knees sucking away at my cock. For sure he had not had one that big in a long time. He was enjoying every ten inches of it. Then he went to the swing and I knew what he wanted. I started to rub my cock against his asshole and then introduced my fingers one at a time. I smelled them and they were ok, so I went on to lick his ass. Benoit was almost crying from the pleasure. “ahah, ahah, ahah, ohooo, uuuuuuuuuh, ahhhhhaa,” as there was a cry of pleasure every time my tongue invaded his bum hole. Then I started to press harder with my cock until it went in, first the head, very easily, then his ass started to swallow my cock like a hungry snake swallows its prey, one gulp at a time until I was finally inside all the way to my pubic hair. How Benoit loved this cock up his ass. I would alternate my cock with a big dildo. He loved it.

Benoit was circumcised, not typical of the French but it was because he was Jewish. He told me his family was the poor relatives of the Rothchilds. He was old money personified but with a very wild side. Sexually, this guy was as great a bottom as I ever had. On a personal level, he was a pleasure to be with because of his education and refinement.

I then started to suck him and to move the swing with both hands as I entered his ass and pulled out as I pushed the swing. It was fucking at the most comfortable pace and level, I was not moving my hips but the swing brought his ass to me and my mouth would engulf his big cock. Benoit led out some grunts, and then started to yelp and howl in a syncopated manner as a result of my giving him pleasure on both ends. He was about ready to blow when I increased both the fucking and then the sucking adding the gargling effect. Benoit was driven to a total frenzied orgasm. He came buckets, and I drank all of it.

Benoit drove me back to my apartment and gave me his phone number. I did not have a phone as I thought I would not need to call anyone. He understood and said he hoped we could get together again and again and sooner better than later.

I called Benoit two days later to tell him I was heading to Mount St. Michel and was going on the TGB to LeMans, there I would rent a car and drive the rest of the way, passing possibly through La Mayenne.

Then he proposed to go together, he would drive us in his car, as there was some business he had to take care of in his homestead of Loupgard or the Fox Watch where some of the relatives still lived. Of course I was more than thrilled to take him up on the offer. On the way there, we were met by the most inclement weather they have seen in a century. It was late April and they had a major snow storm in La Mayenne and in Normandy. Driving in this shit is not easy and certainly not fun. We reached La Mayenne and thought it would be best if we stayed overnight. His great aunt and uncle were expecting us and we were lodged at this summer house that had been a seventeen century barn now turned into a house. We had to light a fire in the fireplace to keep warm and this is the most massive fireplace I had seen. It opened up on two sides, in the dining room and in the living area.

Benoit and I made love in front of the fire. We fucked in the kitchen and then the third time that day I fucked him in the bed. We just did not seem to get enough of each other. I loved his ass and his armpits; I loved the taste and abundance of his ejaculation. Benoit produced so much semen.
The next day the snow had stopped and we departed for Mount St. Michel. The drive was no piece of cake but the heavy Mercedes was just made for this type of road condition. We stopped in Rennes for a late lunch and it was so mother fucking cold we did not want to get out of the car to see the city. For sure there are a lot of things to see there, but we were most eager to arrive. Even though Benoit was French and born not too far from Mount St. Michel, he had never been there. We arrived in the late afternoon when the sun was setting and the view was surreal. There was a sort of fog close to the ground and the pastel pink and grey sky was punctured by the spires of the Church. We would not be able to visit until the next day but were satisfied just to see it from a distance and drink it all in. It was truly magnificent.

Benoit and I checked into a hotel and had an early dinner, a couple of cognacs and went to our rooms to fuck the night away. After a few rolls in the sack, we fell asleep in each other’s arms. The next morning we set out to visit the world famous landmark. Benoit was an excellent companion and travel guide. Even though he had never visited the place, his knowledge of French history was more than adequate to fill me in on so many details the tour guide was not telling the group.
Benoit was departing for the South of France the following week and invited me to go along and stay at his family’s place in Fos –Sur-Mer in Provence, near Marseille. I wasn’t able to accept because I was a bit behind on my work. When I got back to Paris I put my nose to the grindstone and worked straight through for five days, perhaps ten or fifteen hours each day until I would just collapse into the keyboard of my computer. But I had to do it because so much was at stake. I e-mailed my editor 4 different articles, all having to do with the French position and the Iraq war. My editor was very impressed. He said he had never seen me be so prolific.

When I emerged from myself imposed mini exile, I was craving the company of people and most of all I was dying to suck a cock, fuck a pretty ass or even get fucked. Such was my addiction to sex that the five days that had passed since I had sex with Benoit seemed like a very remote incident in the past. It was Saturday morning and I took the Metro into Paris, stopping briefly at Gare du Nord and on to Sacre Coeur. I sat at a sidewalk café and had a light breakfast. Lots of coffee as I watched the world go by. The morning was cool but pleasant on the sunny side of the street.

People were already wearing short sleeves and it was the start of a great outdoor season. There were tourists already and a lot of the locals as well. The women were fashionably elegant and the men painfully gorgeous. It almost hurt my eyes to see so much eye candy. I wanted to stop them right there and ask them if they wanted their dicks sucked.

I did notice that there were a couple who would walk by and returned again, always looking, definitely cruising. The most attractive and masculine one who caught my eye I knew would be an Arab. Once I finished my coffee, I got up and started to walk in the same direction he had gone. I crossed the Place du Tetre and saw him coming my way. Our eyes met and he kept on walking, turning around to see if I was looking or perhaps following. I sat down in one of the little benches and he came back, this time he sat next to me and started a conversation.

Alain was his name. He said he was Lebanese and was a student at the Sorbonne. Smart no doubt, I thought. His conversation was animated and he was very articulate. When it got to information about me, he could not believe I was not French. It seems that just a couple of weeks in France and I was already ridding myself of any accent. Just like a chameleon, I tend to take on the color of my surroundings.

Alain told me about the plight of the Lebanese, their crisis, the Middle East and it shed some light on some shady areas where I had my doubts. To hear President Bush, you would think that Iraq indeed possessed weapons of mass destruction. I knew better. In any case, I invited Alain to my house with the pretext of writing down some of his points of view and use them for publication. I was not too sure I would be able to use him as a source but he was gorgeous and I knew he was available, at least he could be had or he would not have cruised me like that.

He agreed to accept my invitation. We rode the Metro back to Vincennes and the Arab quarters is not too far away anyhow so he would have been traveling in the same general direction. Alain Masur told me in the train that he had been born in France but that his parents came to Paris during the long civil war in Lebanon. They had been in the jewelry business and owned several shops in Beirut. It all came crashing down as the war destroyed everything. They fled the country and lost a lot, money, business, property as the downtown section was heavily bombarded.

His folks were able to start again and opened a jewelry store near Montmartre on the 18th Arrondisement. They had done well for themselves and were able to educate all four of his brothers and sisters. He was the last one left at home but he told me right on the train that he had a conflict because he was gay and his parents would never accept that. He feared constantly that it would come out. Alain had to live his life partially I the closet. But when he got out, like today, he said he was wild. I wanted to see that and be the recipient of his wild desires.

When we reached my apartment Alain was all over me. He was like a wild beast just devouring his prey. Since I hadn’t had sex in six days I too was absolutely uncontrollable. We were making out, kissing, rolling on the floor, jockeying for the top position when I felt it. It was an obelisk as big as the one in Place de la Concorde, a true phallus, an enormous dick. This guy was hung as big as Hans. When I lowered his short it was there, cut but gigantic, perhaps a bit shorter than Hans, maybe 12 or 13 inches. Alain was also happy with my schlong, he started to suck me right away and he was good at it. He continued on to my ass crack and licked until he had me seeing stars. I opened up my ass cheeks and made it easier for him to rim me some more but he took it as an invitation to penetrate me. He started to push and my asshole was very cooperative. The head went in and he pushed a little more. The pain traveled through my body and it was sharp and strong. I held on to the pillow and bit my hand. Within a few minutes it actually started to feel good even if it was still hurting, but it was a good kind of pain. He was making small movements and in a fast, even motion pulling out and pushing in, all the while every time he pushed it in he would go a few centimeters deeper. Richie was getting fucked with a capital F.

Alain did not need to indicate verbally he was nearing an orgasm. I sensed it and pulled out, after all, we were bare backing and I took his big dick in my mouth and finished the job. Alain came torrents as did I. That was one of the best fucks I have ever been given. Alain gave me his phone number and indicated he would like a repeat session. I never called him because I was afraid I was liking it too much and I didn’t want to limit myself to only one person on a regular basis. After all, I would eventually leave Paris and that was incentive enough to stop intimacy on its tracks.

The following day I worked all day and bought some quiche, ate and went out to the bars. The gayest area of Paris is the Marais and it gives new meaning to the term Gay Paris. At one of the watering holes I was being cruised by this terrific looking twink. He was no older than twenty. He had dark skin like that of Caribbean Latin. Good looking in excess and built like an athlete. I finally could not resist and went over to talk to him. Indeed he was of Caribbean origin, only his family was from French Guyana and he had been born in France. He had the mixture of races that brings out the best looks in guys and gals alike. That strength of the black and the beautiful cinnamon skin. The hair was curly and short but he had the most alluring bubble butt that invited to explore, lick and eventually, invade it with your dick. “My name is Richie, are you by yourself?”

My name is Patrice and I am by myself. I could not take my eyes off you”. Wow, he was interested. I offered to buy him a drink and he accepted. He was drinking red wine and I had Pernod with water. Soon Patrice put his arms around my shoulders and kissed my neck. It sent shivers down my spine and made my dick hard almost instantly. I was sitting on a high stool and the tent was very obvious. When Patrice noticed I was hard and the size of it, he said: “I just have to have that thing up my ass” Now I was home. I knew I was in for a good sex session with a very attractive twink and I was going to get to fuck him. I forgot what he told me he did for a living, but at that point all I was interested in was fucking that pretty ass of his.

I brought Patrice to my apartment and we soon engaged in very energetic passionate love making. He was good and had the heat of the Caribbean mixed in with his black blood. Patrice was a hot number. He had me sit on the floor and he sat on my dick. He wiggled and moved to accommodate my monster. But Patrice was no novice. It was clear he took it up the ass often and in our case, he was enjoying it more because of the size of my cock. Patrice was now squatting and riding my dick going fast and furious, he was close to reaching an orgasm. As he was about to shoot his wad, I bent my head and got a hold of his dick with my mouth, I held it there to catch the onslaught of jizz that followed. Patrice rewarded me with his man juice and I fucked the living shit out of him.

Sunday afternoon I headed for the baths. If you get there early you can secure a cabin. There are not too many and they get rented very early. I got one without having to wait. I went in, got undressed, wrapped a towel around my waist and began the hunt. Up and down the hall, into the shower area, then on to steam room and back in my cabin. These cabins were very miniscule. I would say seven by seven with a very small cot. But it was adequate to bring in a trick, suck or fuck without being pestered by the old trolls.

I had my eye on a couple of guys already. One was this tall and lanky dude with a tattoo of a scorpion right on his torso. The other one was dark skinned and with an unbelievable bubble butt. Both of them followed me into my cabin. I had no idea what was going to happen but I knew it was going to be fun.

The bubble butt bent over and allowed me to rim him. The Scorpio tat spread my ass cheeks and started to rim me. It soon escalated to where bubble butt backed his ass to my dick and asked me to fuck him. I then had Scorpio tat stand on the cot so I could suck him while I fucked the other guy. The fucking was absolutely the best. This guy was hard as a rock and his ass was tight, he would contract and release as if he was milking my dick. Mr. Scorpio was delighted with the way I was sucking his cock and he started to cum in my mouth. Every squirt was sending signals to my own imminent orgasm. Then bubble butt came without even touching himself and I followed suit, with Mr. Scorpio’s jizz still in my mouth.

That was just the beginning, I must have sucked at least half a dozen more guys until my jaws could not move and I was not able to even open my mouth. I was also dry down in my gonads, having spilled my seed at least four times. The Bains D’Odessa sure were a lot of fun.

Chateau at La Mayenne (Laisey au chateau)

Benoit's country house in La Mayenne with creek in the back

PHOTO SOURCE: http://parisium.eu/index.php?page=Verdure&langue=en