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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...
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