A Beach Encounter in Brittany

It happened one night, while I was on holiday with friends -- two weeks surfing on the Côte Sauvage. The beach was Plage Valentin -- a wide strip of soft sand backed by a promenade, and behind that a huge forest of pine and oak. We'd surf most of the day, but in the heat of the afternoon we'd escape into this forest, drink cheap red wine, and fall asleep until late evening. By eight -- nine at the latest -- we'd be ready for a shower and a night in the bars, trying to pull laughing French girls with what little language skills we had.

But on this night, I woke up alone. It was still warm, but very dark in the forest. I'd wandered off at some point, drunk and sunstroked, and this time they hadn't found me.

I could see one of the wood-planked paths that cut through the forest, though, just ahead of me, lit by the moon that shone through the cleared space above the path. Each one led back to the campsite eventually, so I set off, jogging -- to clear my head, of course. Nothing to do with the darkness of the pine forest.

After about fifteen minutes, it was clear I'd got it wrong. I was back at the beach. It was amazing in the moonlight. The surf had dropped, and the beach was empty, apart from a couple of young guys walking along the very edge of the surf.

I was hacked off. No mates, no food, no girls. I wasn't going to try my luck navigating in the forest again -- this time I'd walk along the promenade, straight in to town. But the guys were walking past, by now, and I was enjoying being on my own. So I stood still, invisible against the dark forest, and let them walk by.

They both looked like surfers, by the branded shorts and beach-bags, but French -- I could hear them talking softly. They were about the same age, around twenty, but one was taller -- maybe 6'1, and broad-shouldered. The other was slimmer, and only about 5'7, with a wiry build. They were clearly different characters -- Tall-guy ambled along, like a rugby player. The wiry one moved more like a dancer, or a gymnast. Very precise, with a bouncing step. Tall seemed to be shy: Wiry was very excitable, mock-punching his mate as they walked, ducking the return blows easily.

I walked about a hundred yards -- maybe more -- behind them, intrigued. At one point, Wiry landed a punch even I could hear, and ran off up the promenade steps. Tall chased him, catching him up by an open-air paddling-pool built-in to the empty promenade. The smaller guy fought back, laughing, but not with any real resistance. Tall quickly got him in a full nelson, with them both kneeling on the ground. Wiry fought back, but Tall's torso was on his back, and he soon quietened down.

And there they stayed, not moving, breathing hard. I'd stopped at a distance, but even I was close enough to see Wiry begin to move again. This time, it was just his hips, where they pressed back into Tall's crotch. Tall released his grip a little, but Wiry began to struggle free, and Tall quickly had him held tight again -- Wiry's forehead pressed against the raised edge of the pool, held down on his knees underneath the bigger guy.

After a moment, Wiry's hips began to roll, again. This time, Tall didn't move. As Wiry's arse rubbed up against him, he knelt stock-still. I watched, dumbstruck, but getting hornier by the minute. When I realised that they were totally engrossed in each other, I stepped into the trees behind the promenade, and worked my way around to the opposite side of the pool from where they knelt.

They were no more than twenty feet away. Tall was looking up and down, seeing no-one. Wiry had his arms free, and was propping himself up, grinding into his mate hard, now. No man could survive that kind of pressure for long. It was affecting even me -- I could feel my cock filling with blood, brushing the inside of my loose beach shorts. Every little movement I made caused the material to catch the solid, warm weight of it and drag it against my leg. Much more of this, and I'd have to find some way to make more room.

Wiry looked over his shoulder at the bigger man, clearly smiling -- even in the gloom. Tall was serious-faced, his chin jutting forward, breathing in short gasps. Wiry had obviously got him were he wanted him.

But not for long. With one hand, Wiry reached between his legs, and began to catch at Tall's shorts, just where his balls would be. This nearly did for Tall, and he bucked backwards, and held his breath. Wiry looked back, made eye contact with Tall, and slipped one hand into his waistband. With a wriggle, he pulled his shorts down to his knees. I could see his hard cock and balls, silhouetted against the light on the sea.

But Tall could see his arse, and he leant forward again. Wiry span round, kneeling quickly on the tiled walkway, and grabbed Tall's cock. He'd grabbed it hard. Tall stiffened, but held it together, and after a couple of seconds he relaxed. And then, still holding Tall, Wiry leant forward and stuffed his mouth with Tall's thick, smooth cock.

Wiry knew what he was doing, and did it with relish, sucking and slobbering noisily over the meat in his mouth. I had to see, and crept quietly through the shadows along the side of the pool. I was close, now. I could see Wiry's mouth filling with Tall's thick shaft, emptying, and filing again. With one free hand, he was gently stroking his own cock, cradling and caressing his balls. Occasionally, he reached forward and stroked the heavy balls in front of him -- and then further back, into the crack of Tall's arse. Suddenly, Tall was on the edge again, his back stiffening, his humps pumping, his cock up to the balls in the young guy's mouth.

Still stroking the bouncing, shining-wet cock, Wiry stopped sucking, and reached down into his beach bag. Having found what he wanted, he stepped back, into the shallow pool, all the while teasing the underside of the big man's cock with his fingernails. Tall followed.

But then they saw me. They nearly ran for it, but I said every poor French chat-up-line I'd learned -- all in the space of about thirty seconds. They paused, looked at each other, and shared a whispered joke. And then, with Wiry still looking slightly wary - or jealous of his catch? -- they stepped into the shallow pool, and Wiry knelt down, and leaned over the tiled edge. Not two feet from me. He flipped the lid of the bottle -- suntan cream, it looked like -- and poured some into his hand. And then he reached down his back, and spread it liberally over his arse. Tall and I watched as his hand dipped down into his crack. I could smell salt, and sweat, and coconut oil.

Wiry looked straight at me, challenging, as he worked his fingers into his arse, spreading the oil inside himself. And then, with the same hand, he reached back, and massaged the oil all over Tall's hard cock and large, tight balls.

Tall knelt down, cock in hand, and began to rub the end up and down Wiry's crack. Wiry looked at him, and then at me. I saw his eyes go wide as Tall pushed into him with one, smooth, unstoppable thrust. And then, slowly at first, they fucked.

Tall wasn't going to last long, but then neither was Wiry. With each thrust of the bigger man, the tip of Wiry's cock would slash through the surface of the water, splashing drops over his chest with each thrust. On top of having an arse full of hard cock, the sensation of cool water running over his own hot cock-head was clearly unbearably exciting. It was now or never.

I slipped off my shorts, and stepped down into the pool, knees between Wiry's arms. Sitting down on the tiles, I made eye contact with him, and ran my fingers through his hair. Then I took hold, and pulled his mouth down onto my own, desperately-hard cock. And he took it all.

It took barely a minute or two, then. We were all too horny to control ourselves. I fucked Wiry's mouth, loving the warmth and the wetness and the suction. Wiry had his mouth full, his cock teased by the friction of water, and his arse full of another man. Tall was up to the balls in his friend, and knew nothing else.

Tall was the first to come. Pulling hard on the boy's hips, he forced himself deeper in, and roared through gritted teeth. This was enough for me, and I felt a lightning bolt of pressure force up from my balls, up my cock, and fill Wiry's mouth with jets of come. My hips jerked out of control, but Wiry held his mouth on me, swallowing hard. And then he came, tensing around us both as he knelt there, spit-roasted on two guys, utterly abandoned to cock.

I can't remember what we said, how we parted. I do remember Wiry licking his lips, wiping my come of his chin and neatly licking his fingers clean, all the while looking Tall straight in the eye. Tall looked shell-shocked, poor guy. I knew he'd be back for more. I never saw them again -- I'll admit I got 'lost' on the beach a few times after that -- but I've never seen guys the same way, since.