Camping in France

For the long summer vacation at the end of my second year at College I invited my friend, Des, to go camping with me in Brittany. We had lived near to each other when we were kids and always got on well. So when he phoned to say he would very much like to go I was delighted. He also made a suggestion which intrigued me – that we should invite Trevor, who was a friend of his and who had never been to France. This gave me a further idea. At first I had thought of back-packing, but as three was an odd number I remembered that another old friend of mine from home, Graham, had a car and that if he could get a week off work in August we might all be able to go together.

To cut a long story short it was finally agreed between the four of us that we would go during the second week of August and that Graham, who had a trailer and a tent, would bring his car and we would share the expenses equally.

I need to tell you about Graham. He is five years older than me and his father and mine were friends who had season tickets at the local football club so I had always looked up to him like a big brother. When he was 18 he had moved out of his parents' home into a bed-sit near the city centre. I believe there had been some sort of difference with his parents but I didn't discover what it was until later. He had left school at 16, being no scholar, but he is a friendly, considerate kind of guy and he got a job with a firm which specializes in tyres, wheel-balancing and tracking. He was a good employee and quickly achieved promotion but he kept himself to himself and his football matches in my company seemed to be his main interest in life. I was wrong, of course, and I discovered it in the following way.

We had been to a Saturday match together and for the first time he invited me round to his bed-sit for toast and tea. When we got to his room I was amazed to see how many paperback books he had, lining the shelves of his bookcase. Idly, while he was in the kitchen filling the kettle to make tea, I took one of his books off the shelf to look at it and was stunned to see that the book fell open at a place where he had marked it with a piece of paper. It was a novel by James Baldwin called "Go Tell It On The Mountain" and the page gave a graphic and explicit account of two young men going to bed with each other for the first time . "Do me as I do you" was the phrase that still rings in my mind, even now… While I was reading this erotic account, Graham entered the room and saw what I was looking at. For a moment he looked embarrassed, but he said nothing and bent down to plug in the kettle. I said naively "Hey, Graham, what's this?" and he looked up and said "Nothing." Well it was obviously not nothing and I was intrigued so I said "Have you read this?"

He blushed – and I knew he had.

Well this got me fired up. I had never really considered whether Graham was a wanker or not or whether he went to bed with other guys, and the idea that he might be interested in male sex excited me. He was not especially good-looking and was slightly overweight, with a pleasant round face and he carried himself in a bouncy, cheerful kind of way. When I got to know him REALLY well I discovered that he had no hang-ups save that he resented the fact that he was gay. Whatever had made him like that, whether it was in his genes or to do with his birth or upbringing – or a combination of those things – he hated it. That is why he had moved away from his parents into a bed-sit and though they suspected his sexual orientation they were never sure.

He was honest and a good friend, so when I asked if he had similar books, he said "A few."

"Do you read them when you get back from work?" I asked, and he nodded, adding that he read them in bed, too, before he went to sleep. I wasn't sure how to put my next question, so I blurted out "Do you wank while reading them, or just after?" and again he looked a little embarrassed and nodded – ever so slightly. I was getting the picture. "Lend it to me" I said; and when he shook his head, I said "Go on … I would like to read it. I know more about this subject than you might think."

Since then I've often thought how pushy, insensitive and thoughtless I was when I said this. It put him in a quandary : either he had to lend me the book; or he had to engage in a conversation he would find difficult; or he had to appear to be rude. The easiest way out was to give me the book. "OK, but promise to tell no-one I gave it to you," he said.

I took it home with me and read it from cover to cover. Then I took it back to Graham and asked if I could read "Giovanni's Room" (also by James Baldwin) – if he had it. He had! And soon we were talking about male sex and I told him about some of the experiences I had had. He listened in amazement and during a brief pause in my confession I looked up at Graham to see that he was covering a bulge in his trousers with his hand. He noticed the direction of my gaze and said "You're getting me all excited," his hand still resting on his crotch. "How often do you do it?" I asked. "What, wank?" he said. He considered this for a moment (our tea quite forgotten) and then said "About five times a week – and sometimes twice on Sundays."

"Would you do it with me, now?

"No – it would spoil things between us."

"It wouldn't – and anyway, as you know, I'm not completely without experience. It's good fun and hurts no-one."

He hesitated, looking troubled and doubtful. "How old are you? Eighteen?" (I nodded.) "Look, I'm not sure. I've always thought of ourselves as just good friends. How about if we just wank ourselves but not each other. Would that be OK?"

It certainly was! We were both dying to whack off. We sat side by side on his bed, unzipped our flies and took out our dicks. His was fat, especially in the middle. He had a short foreskin and when he stroked himself it moved up and down his cherry-red glans. I had a longer foreskin and a longer dick but not as fat, and I liked to bare my dickhead and massage underneath the tip with two fingers using pre-cum. I was fascinated by the differences between us.

As he stroked himself I noticed a bubble of pre-cum emerge from the tip of his dick. "I always cum soon after I get pre-cum – it's a kind of sign that I'm good and ready," he said and with that he started stroking faster and I suspended my own operations to watch his. He certainly went for it! Soon he was breathing hard and then he said "It's cumming" and out shot a jet of spunk, followed by two more jets and a series of dribbles down his shaft. "Wonderful" he gasped as he opened his eyes. "Now, how about you?"

I didn't need any further encouragement. I hitched my shirt above my midriff so that there would be no tell-tale marks on it and soon my spunk was flying as his had done. In all this we never touched each other and in fact it was not until several meetings later that we did that.

That first meeting led, of course, to others, always after a football match. I learned that Graham didn't meet other gays or go on "the scene" (as he called it) and that I was the only one who shared his secret past-time – or vice, as he thought of it. I didn't think of it as a vice at all and used to ask him questions about sex which he had some difficulty answering. For instance I read somewhere that a "scientific experiment" had been carried out to find out how long the average male took to masturbate. The answer – apparently – was two minutes and they had been blind-folded while doing it. I had a crazy picture in my head of a row of blindfolded men all wanking away with the scientist sporting a huge hard-on while he watched and timed each ejaculation; but Graham said that it was probably one man alone in a cell who pressed a buzzer when he had finished. I also thought that the degree of pre-stimulation would speed up ejaculation so there was nothing very "scientific" about the experiment and that different techniques could slow it down. On this we agreed, and we celebrated by cumming off very quickly indeed! We also talked about recovery time because in the article the same scientist had measured different men's recovery time - that is, how soon they can cum again after the first orgasm. When we tried it once Graham was able to do it quicker than me, though the results were disappointing – harder work and less spunk. The older you get, so the article said, the longer the recovery period! Privately I thought that recovery time probably depended more on the strength and force of the first orgasm and the degree of stimulation but I'm not a scientist and it didn't seem to matter much. Our average time, by the way, was about two minutes!

While I was at University I met Graham from time to time during the vacations, went to football matches with him and afterwards to his bedsit. Then I met Des again – I mean, really met him this time - and was overwhelmed by his size and technique. He was also an extraordinarily nice guy – friendly, cooperative and completely unflappable whereas I know myself to be more highly strung. Having a huge dick himself, he can afford to say "Is bigger necessarily better?" but I know it to be true that a huge tool is a real turn-on for another person, whereas if one is just having wank on one's own, it doesn't matter how big you are. It amazes me that some guys have expensive, messy and painful (and mostly unsuccessful) operations to make their dicks bigger!

So you now have the background picture to our expedition to Brittany in August – me and Graham, Trevor and Des. I was looking forward to meeting Trevor; but Graham, who had not met Des or Trevor before, was a bit apprehensive. As I said, he hated being gay, and at 25 he was also a few years older than the rest of us.

Well, in the event, we couldn't start out until the Saturday afternoon because Graham had to work Saturday morning. He drove round to my house with his car and trailer in the afternoon, having packed his two-man tent and some cooking gear sufficient to make coffee in the mornings. (It had been agreed that we would go to French cafes and restaurants for our meals except for breakfast, when we would buy fresh bread and croissants.) He also brought a sleeping-bag and some blankets, to which I added my own sleeping-bag and gear. Then we set off on the round trip to collect Des and Trevor and began the long journey to catch the night ferry from Plymouth.

Graham and I shook hands with them when we met at Des's house – a picture of innocence, four young people loading up and setting off on a camping expedition to France. We all had sex on our minds, though! I took a good look at Trevor – and liked what I saw. He is about 5 foot 10 inches and has a slim and well proportioned body and fine features. His skin is chocolate brown – it shines as if burnished. He told me quietly that he had come from Jamaica to England when he was about three and had done well at school. His parents were very Christian people but he himself was not a believer. He was very polite and soon we were getting on well, though he did not speak a lot. Des, who had a driver's licence, sat in the front while Graham drove and I sat in the back with Trevor. After a couple of hours of driving and chatting I gently put my hand on his knee and he didn't flinch – just moved it a little closer to mine and covered my hand with his. We smiled at each other - an implied promise that we would have some fun during the holiday to come.

We caught the ferry, on which we had booked a cabin for four, and spent some time drinking beer in one of the ship's bars before turning in for the night. The narrow cabin was arranged with two-tiered bunks on each side and was not suitable for sex, though we probably all thought about it. But we had a week ahead of us, were getting to know each other and could wait, so I don't think anyone indulged in a wank that night.

The following morning (Sunday) we landed and drove the 30 miles or so to a camping site which I had booked in advance, not far from the sea and a Breton village with a bar, a café and a boulangerie. The site was on a promontory, so the sea was on three sides of us down some rocky cliffs. The sun shone and we quickly had our tents pitched. Des had borrowed an ex-Scout tent from his father which had plenty of room for the four of us if it should rain, but we kept most of our gear in Graham's trailer, with its waterproof cover. He had also brought an air-bed and two sleeping bags (as Trevor didn't have one) which unzipped so that they could be zipped together to make a double sleeping-bag. We had agreed that for the first night we would sleep in our original pairings – i.e. Des and Trevor, Graham and me – but that we should ring the changes after that. Graham and I were very intrigued to see that double sleeping bag and wondered how Des intended to lay it out!

As soon as the camp was ready and we had inspected the washing/toilet block we went down to the nearest beach. The sun shone on the sea, the waves and the sand and we promised ourselves a bathe after lunch. Then we went into the little fishing village for a drink at the bar and lunch at the café. As I was the only one who could speak a bit of French, I did the ordering. After that we went for a scramble on the rocks and had our bathe. Perhaps we all sized each other up in our bathing trunks, but it was Des who, even more than Trevor, caught the eye and made us feel jealous. What a package the guy has!

After that we went in the car for an excursion inland and up the coast, scouting for good restaurants to use during the days ahead. We found several and made a note of the menus and days on which they were open and then it was time for our evening meal, which, with two bottles of wine, we enjoyed very much in the little fishing village. As we had had an early start to the day AND because we were excited about the night to come, we went to bed quite early. When we went for a wash in the toilet block I noticed that Trevor and Graham were both wearing a full set of pyjamas whereas Des and I made do with our underpants.

When Graham and I reached our little tent we had to decide what to do about our separate sleeping bags. Each was too narrow for two people to squeeze into, but if we got into one each, we wouldn't be able to reach each other! So we agreed to lie on top of them and cover ourselves with the spare blankets. We didn't have air beds but the two bed rolls we had were quite comfortable.

I had never before been in bed for a whole night with another man and I don't think Graham had either. But it was a lovely feeling to have his warm, willing body so close to mine and it was not long before I had undone his pyjamas and had my fist firmly round his thick tool. He wasted no time, either, in encouraging me to kick my underpants to the bottom of the bed. We came off almost together, probably in about two minutes, and then realized we had the whole of the night together. Time to test Graham's recovery period! After a short interval I put my hand on his limp dick, then drew circles in the spunk on his body and reached for his dick again. It had re-stiffened a bit and grown! With further gentle encouragement it became completely hard so I pumped it quite vigorously. He was moving his hips and making every effort to achieve the second orgasm, but it must have been all of several minutes before he groaned and said "Here it cums." In the dark I could not tell the extent of the "splashdown" but when his spasms had stopped he did a lovely thing – for the first time he put his arms round me and kissed me. And – being tired as well as shagged out – that's how we went to sleep. We woke in the early hours, went to the toilet for a pee and then climbed into our separate sleeping bags.

We slept well that night and I felt very good about Graham when we woke in the morning. We crept out of the tent quietly so as not to disturb Trevor and Des and took the car down to the village to get the bread and croissants for breakfast. On our return I lit the gas stove and boiled a kettle to make coffee. Des emerged first from his big tent and I caught a glimpse of Trevor lying darkly in the bed. The sleeping bags had been zipped together to make a double one. "Have a good night?" I asked archly, but he only smiled and said "Of course."

It was another lovely sunny day which we spent exploring the nearby coast line and bathing. Monday and Tuesday nights were to be in the "new" pairings of me and Trevor, Des and Graham. This meant that either Des or Graham had to vacate his tent, which we settled by spinning a coin. Des lost so he moved in with Graham, and I was able to share the airbed and the double sleeping bag with Trevor. We had our usual good meal and two bottles of wine in the evening and returned to our camp for the night's adventures with our new partners.

We had a little electric lamp which we could just read by. Trevor got into bed first, fully dressed in his pyjamas. He didn't say much and we both read for a few minutes while we got used to lying next to each other. Gradually I eased over in the bed, gently pressing my leg against his. He pressed back – just a little – and soon I was wanting to put my book down and switch off the light. He agreed and we lay quietly, enjoying the sense of closeness until I could wait no longer. I placed my hand on his chest and started to undo his pyjama jacket buttons. When it was open I turned my attention to the bottoms and soon had the cord unfastened. The way lay open to the treasure below!

While I was doing this he didn't attempt to touch me but I could tell that he was excited and when my searching fingers closed round his dick it was fantastically hard. I fingered his dickhead and finding his loose foreskin, eased it back, uncovering the glans. He breathed deeply at this and I went on to cup my hand round his balls. They were a splendid size and he breathed deeply again while I fondled them. Then it was back to his long, thin shaft which I started to stroke gently and then more vigorously. Just as I thought I was getting somewhere he put his hand over mine and said firmly "You first." That was OK with me because I was dying to cum and it implied a promise that he would too. So I dropped my pants and guided his hand to my hot dick, all slippery with pre-cum. He had a wonderful touch which was gentle and demanding at the same time and I was in ecstasy. "I'm close" I groaned, then soon afterwards "I'm going to cum" and I shot my load all over the place. He knew just how long to go on stroking me and when to stop and I was in heaven when the spasms stopped. "That was wonderful" I said, "Just give me a few minutes and I'll return the favour."

Well, I did. It took a lot more stroking than I ever needed myself and he had no pre-cum, but when finally he spurted, it was quite an event. He covered his belly with goo and I rubbed it into his skin and felt really happy. We must have gone to sleep immediately afterwards because it was morning when I woke. Trevor was peacefully asleep next to me, his breathing slow and deep, his body completely relaxed. Enough light was filtering into the tent for me to see him and to make me want to see more of him! So I placed my hand, ever-so gently on his chest and moved it sideways to his nipple. I felt it harden under my hand so I moved across to his other nipple and then down to his waist. His breathing became less slow and deep! My own dick was now hard and urgent so I felt for his hand and took it and placed it round my shaft. With my other hand I felt for his and it was enormous. I badly wanted to see it so I said "Can I roll the cover down so that I can see you?" He grunted (which I took for assent) so I uncovered us both and there it was – long, shining and black – and very, very hard. It stuck out away from his body and his balls were an enviable size. "You first, this time" I said and I peeled back his long foreskin, noticing that his glans was darker than mine, and, kneeling beside him, began to stroke him as he had done me the night before. Glancing up at his face I saw that he had closed his eyes and was enjoying every stroke! I kept going and after a few minutes (definitely longer than two!) I saw his heavy balls creep up towards the base of his long dick and his dick itself lift a little. Then a jet of white cream shot from its tip and landed in a quivering pool on his dark belly. I was entranced! Another jet and then another and there were three pools of glistening spunk. I fingered the now slippery glans and he shivered with pleasure, all the time keeping his eyes closed. There was fleetingly a funny expression on his face when he opened them – half embarrassed and half triumphant. I rather liked it.