THIRTY-EIGHT DEGREES IN THE SHADE, Chapter 1
Warning: the following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. If you have any feedback or would like links to other of my stories, feel free to drop me a line at niftystoryteller@yahoo.com.
I recognized him the instant that I stepped into the train car. A couple of hours earlier, we had eaten lunch at the same outdoor cafe, in the town's pretty, shaded square. I don't think that I had been too obvious while I ate my salad and drank my wine, but I did glance his way more than a few times. Later that afternoon, under the harsh rays of the summer sun, our paths crossed again on the ancient wall that protects the medieval city of Carcassonne, in the south-west of France. I know that our eyes met for longer than an instant that time.
And now we were both on the same train back to Toulouse, the day's sightseeing done. And there was an empty seat across from him. What the hell, I thought. I was supposed to be having new experiences. Regardless of what would happen, it would be that.
"Do you mind?" I asked, gesturing at the open spot. He shook his head. I grabbed a bottle of water out of my bag, which I stowed up above, and then settled in.
Thank God, the train was air-conditioned. Just about all of Europe was in the grips of a heatwave, and the afternoon had taken a toll on me. I took a long drink of water and looked out the window at the platform, which had just started to move. Within minutes the dry landscape was rolling by, and my gaze casually shifted back into the car and onto my seatmate.
He had closed his eyes, which gave me the opportunity to study him without him knowing. I guessed that he was probably in his late twenties, the same as me, though his short dark hair showed a few errant strands of gray. His five-o'clock shadowed face was quite tan, as was the part of his chest that was visible, thanks to several buttons that had not been called into service. His damp, wrinkled linen shirt suggested that he was no more immune to the heat of the day than I was.
There was no doubt that I was attracted to him. While he dozed, I could feel a tentative erection develop amid thoughts of his red lips, his rough stubble, the dark hair that covered his forearms, and the salty taste of his skin. I was a little disappointed when, twenty minutes into the ride, he jerked himself awake. I nonchalantly shifted my gaze away from him. Only for a moment, though. When I felt his eyes rest on me, almost challenging me, I turned back to meet his gaze.
"Our paths seem to keep crossing," I stated matter-of-factly.
"Vous avez raison, I mean, you are right," he answered, quickly translating. "Is this your first visit to Carcassonne?"
"Yes. This is actually my first visit to France that has involved leaving Paris."
"Then it is your first visit to France. Paris is not France."
I smiled. "Does that mean that you don't like Paris very much?"
He shrugged in the French way, using his whole body and face. "I like Paris very much. It has almost everything anyone could ever want. But that is where my family lives most of the time, and I often feel the need to leave there."
"I see. So you are on holiday down here?"
He laughed. "Holiday from what? My father would tell you that my whole life is a holiday. But yes, I am staying down here, in Toulouse. My family has a house here, and I like to use it. But what about you? Are you on a holiday?"
"I suppose that you could say that. A holiday from my life."
His eyes narrowed a little. "That is the best kind, I think. Where you are a completely different person. Maybe completely free and anonyme, anonymous."
I nodded. "There can be something very attractive about being someone different."
The rest of the ride passed quickly, silences interspersed with idle talk about the local sights. I was keenly aware of his body the whole time, the way he occasionally touched his face, or bit his lip, or crossed his sandalled feet at the ankles, or slipped his hand inside his shirt, allowing his thumb to strum the scattering of dark hairs that curled into view. There was no doubt in my mind that I could detect his faint aroma, a mixture of sweat and sandalwood and rosemary that only made me want to breathe more deeply.
Finally the clattering train approached the station, and the people around us began to gather their belongings. It was time to take a chance.
"So," I said casually. "would you be interested in going to grab some dinner?"
"Maybe," he said, smirking just a little, "but only on one condition."
My heart skipped a beat. "And what's that?"
"That you tell me your name."
I smiled and extended my hand. "Jason Ellis. And you are?"
"Luc de Vigne," he said, grasping me firmly. "It is a pleasure."
"The pleasure is all mine."
I deferred to his judgment about dinner, and he led me down a series of narrow streets and through a non-descript courtyard before arriving at our destination, a tiny restaurant that spilled out onto a lantern-festooned terrace.
He smiled. "I think that we will find something to eat here."
And we did. Luc took charge of ordering, everything from the appetizers through the entrees and salads and, of course, the wine. It was all delicious, but I probably did not appreciate it as fully as I would have under normal circumstances. These circumstances were anything but normal. Everything seemed to heighten the erotic tension that was growing between us. The textures and flavors of the food. The warm breeze that softly moved the hanging lanterns. The murmur of other conversations that faded into a buzz around us. The occasional touch, our hands meeting as we both reached for bread, our feet touching as one of us shifted in his chair. And the look in his eyes.
Hours passed before the waiter came to us with an offer of dessert. Luc looked at me inquiringly.
"Only if you're interested," I said.
"Perhaps we could take a walkd over to my place and find something there," he replied.
My heart was pounding. "That sounds perfect."
The house was only four or five blocks away. From the street it looked like an expressionless stone face, punctuated by the occasional window, but when we pushed through the heavy wooden street door and went through the dark passageway we found ourselves in a beautiful little garden. Luc led me up a few steps to an ornately carved door, inserted a heavy key in the lock, and propelled me inside.
He immediately ducked into a small chamber directly to the right of the door and entered a code into a glowing keypad.
"Alarm," he said, smiling as he returned. "We don't need the police, do we?"
I shook my head.
We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other in the faint, bluish light that shone through the window at the top of the stairs. Time briefly stood still. But then he slowly backed up to the wall, and I approached him. I passed my lips over his before turning my head to the side and burrowing into his neck. His skin was flushed hot, and I could feel him exhale as my lips sucked at his salty flesh. As I tasted him, I reached down to unbutton his shirt and slip it off of him. Exploring his chest, my fingers came to rest on his hard nipples and began to lightly tug. Simultaneously, my mouth covered his and I slipped my tongue deep inside. In that instant, our breath and our bodies fused, and we each began to explore the other without any inhibition. Clothes melted away, skin touched, lips nuzzled, and the whole evening of anticipation was worth it.
I knelt down in front of him and looked up into his face.
"You are so fucking sexy," I said, running my hands down his chest, across the scattering of hair on his flat belly, before finally grasping the base of his heavy cock with one hand. With the other I made a circle around his foreskin and pulled it back, allowing the slick head to emerge completely from its sheath. The intense, acrid smell of sex made me almost dizzy with lust, and my jaw went slack as I leaned forward to tongue his sensitive flesh. Luc shivered the instant I made contact, and a long, slow sigh hissed out from between his moist lips. Opening my mouth wide, I took him deep inside, all the way, until my nose came to rest in his wiry pubic hair. He put his hands on the back of my head, holding himself in place and preventing me from moving my lips up and down his full length.
"Careful, careful," he whispered.
Slowly, deliberately, I began to slide my tongue back and forth, up and down, the best I could. In time his grip loosened, and he began to rock back and forth.
"Play with yourself," he hissed.
I was more than happy to oblige, though, like Luc, I knew that I needed to be careful. I reached down with one hand and began to stroke my bobbing cock, which was rockhard and leaking copious amounts of sticky fluid. With my other hand I steadied myself as I continued to suck Luc's thick tool.
"You are so sexy, so fucking hot," he said. "Your dick is so big, and your balls are so full of cum. I want to taste it, I want to see you shoot it all over my body."
He slowly eased himself out of my mouth, pushed me back onto the cool marble floor, and devoured me. My eyes rolled back in my head, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, and my toes curled. As he licked and sucked and nipped at my cock, all I knew was that I didn't care if I ever had sex again, with Luc or with anyone else, that instant of pleasure was all I needed to live on for the rest of my life. (Of course, we always think foolish things in the middle of sex.)
As Luc feasted on my flesh, I could tell that he was becoming desperate, almost frenzied. He occasionally reached down to jack himself, but his cock was almost painfully hard, and I could tell that it would take only a very few strokes to push him over the edge. I could feel the same wave building up inside of me, and Luc intuited it from the feeling of my balls, which were pulling up into a hard package.
"I want to cum with you," he said as he pulled me up and straddled my legs, scooting forward until our stiff organs touched. He kissed me and began to stroke us together. "I want to see your cum mix with mine."
Wetting my index finger, I slipped it between our cocks and began to rub. Luc's eyelids fluttered, and I leaned in to taste his engorged nipples.
"Oh, oh, oh," he moaned.
At that instant, I removed my finger, allowing full contact between our shafts. The sensation of slick friction was just right, and I swear to God that we both began to spasm in the very same instant. Gripping tightly, Luc brought us so close together that it was impossible to see where my dick, my cum began and his ended. Jets of sticky white fluid arced up, painting his chest and my stomach. It was pure, sweet release.
Slowly coming down from his orgasmic high, Luc pushed me back and came to rest beside me. We just lay there for a few minutes before he leaned in and kissed me, long and slow.
"That was very nice," he said.
I reached down and grasped his still-hard cock. "You did seem to enjoy it. But so did I."
"I know."
"But I have a question."
"Yes?"
"Am I going to get to see the rest of the house?"
He glanced around the foyer, its floor littered with our clothes, before turning back to me and placing his mouth over mine. His tongue probed inside, doing battle with mine, exploring here and there. Eventually, he paused for a breath. Looking directly at me, he stood up and reached down to grasp my hand. Once I was on my feet, he led me, stark naked, down the long hall. That was my answer.