It was almost midnight when Adele and her friend Jackie crawled out of the taxi. They had set off from the UK early that morning. Two cabs, three trains, and several hours later they finally arrived at the apartment complex. Despite the late hour, it was still uncomfortably warm, for two middle-aged women.
"Oh my god Jack," Adele half-joked, "I'm going to need a break to recover from this break." Jackie laughed, paid the driver, and led the way to the apartment. It belonged to a friend of hers. Jackie had holidayed here a few times. And this time she had convinced Adele to join her for a few days in the sun. They walked along narrow paths between white, two-story buildings, painted orange by the dim streetlights. Then up a flight of stairs to the flat. They both crashed in their bedrooms straight away, exhausted.
Adele woke early the next morning. The bright sun shone right on her face. She was an early riser anyway. Twenty years of being a mum will do that to you. She was still wearing the T-shirt and nickers she had worn all day yesterday. She explored the small apartment, and it didn't take long. She was too tired to undress properly last night. Jackie was still fast asleep and Adele didn't want to wake her. But she found the shower and stepped in.
Ten minutes later she was back in her room. Feeling refreshed and eager to explore. She stepped into a clean pair of little white cotton panties. Then pulled her breezy white summer dress on over her head. The room was already too hot for her. So Adele tied her long red hair back. Pulled her gypsy neck dress down off her shoulders a little. Slipped on a pair of flip-flops, grabbed her phone, and went outside.
As she trotted down the terracotta stairs she thought maybe she should have put on a bra. Her large breasts bounced, forcing her to grab hold of them. When she reached the ground she looked around. She was at a crossing of paths, and on the corner opposite her was a little leathery looking old man with a broom bigger than him and a bin on wheels. He looked about a hundred years old, and he stared at her as if she was from another planet.
"Um, bonjour." Adele attempted a friendly hello. The old man raised his hand in greeting but didn't say a word, and didn't stop staring. Adele waved back smiling nervously, then turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward the sun. She glanced back after a few yards to see the old man hadn't moved. He stood motionless, still staring after her. She waved again and turned a corner.
Somewhere in the distance Adele heard laughter and splashing. She followed the sound and a short time later she turned another corner and found a swimming pool. In the pool, laughing and messing around, were two of the most beautiful young men she had ever seen. One was black, and I mean jet black. He was well over six feet tall with a slim toned body and short cropped hair.
His friend was white, but heavily tanned so more of a golden brown. He was a little shorter, with medium-length floppy blonde hair. He was broader than his friend but no less toned. They leaped about in the pool, fighting to get something off each other. Their wet glossy bodies glistened in the early morning sunlight.
Adele froze, she couldn't move. Her shy timid self was screaming turn around and walk away. But her body refused to cooperate. Then it was too late, the black guy noticed her. He stopped playing their game and nudged his friend. Nodding in her direction to point her out. They both stopped and stared at her, and Adele wanted to curl up and hide. The blonde guy reacted quickly, paddling over to the side of the pool and lifting himself out.
"Oh my god," Adele whispered to herself, trying not to look down at his groin as he got to his feet and approached her. He wore the tiniest pair of red trunks that struggled but somehow managed to cover his bouncing, jiggling manhood. He stopped a couple of feet away, a big grin on his kind, welcoming face, and blurted out a load of French that meant nothing to her.
"I, I'm sorry," Adele stammered nervously, "I don't understand."
"Aah, English?" The stranger asked in the most wonderful accent. "You are on Holiday here?" Adele nodded, then nodded again. She smiled, relieved that he could understand her.
"Aah bon, my name is Philippe," he announced with a hand on his chest, "And this is Henri." He said, waving an arm back in his friend's direction. Henri was by the side of the pool now. Resting his crossed arms on the edge and his chin on his arms.
"Bonjour, bonjour," Adele said to each of them. "Adele," she said, placing a hand on her own chest. Philippe was so relaxed, so easy around her that she warmed to him immediately. He welcomed her to France and ushered her to a group of little round white chairs and tables on a patio near the pool. She thanked him and sat down under a large parasol. She was still trying to look anywhere other than his trunks, and she noticed how Henri's eyes followed her.
"You arrived last night?" Philippe asked, she nodded again. "Aah, you are hungry no? You have had breakfast? Adele shook her head. "Oh, you are not hungry?"
"Sorry sorry," she explained giggling, "yes I am hungry and no I have not had breakfast."
"Aah bon, I will bring us some." And he turned and walked away. Adele watched his cute little butt as he left, then turned to see Henri still watching her from the pool. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. A long awkward moment passed, and the urge to say something grew inside her. His head sank below the edge of the pool for a moment, then reappeared soaking wet again. He wiped his eyes and his smile reappeared as well.
"Oh my god this is unbearable," Adele whispered to herself. Then gathered her courage and raised her voice. "It's a beautiful morning." She said, and waited. Henri looked confused, troubled almost. Then he placed both hands on the edge of the pool and heaved himself out. Adele stared open-mouthed as the water ran from his muscular, gloss-black body. Cascading from his rippled six-pack stomach down over his white shorts.
But the white shorts, really? She thought. White shorts and nothing else? The thin white material clung to his black skin turning almost transparent in its soaked state. His huge thick member swung from side to side between his thighs as he approached her. She felt her face getting hotter, flushed red with embarrassment as he stopped just a couple of feet away and pulled up a chair. Adele tried her best to focus on his big soft brown eyes as he leaned closer.
"I, um, I no," he gestured to Adele, then patted his chest with an open hand "No Anglais." Adele understood, her heart going out to him as she was in the same boat. She patted her chest as well.
"No umm, French," she said, and the pair sat in silence, exchanging glances and awkward smiles. Beyond the pool, the ground fell away revealing a wonderful view of the valley. To one side was a small brick building that looked like changing rooms and showers. Behind them, the little apartment complex stood in early morning silence. Seemingly empty.
Philippe reappeared with a large tray in his hands. He looked quite comical, but also very sexy, carrying a tray full of food in just those tiny trunks. He placed the coffee, juice, and pastries on the table and the three of them shared the most delicious breakfast. Philippe translated and the pair told her about themselves.
