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Bastille Day Ch. 06

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We smiled and pursed our lips – really the tip of the tapering off. Before we left the plane, we promised to keep in contact via email, and then we went our ways.

Monday at the office, I had to respond to comments about my tan, avoiding mentioning that it was seamless and that I had been at Cap d’Agde. A closer friend caught me at the coffee machine, however, and winked and asked:

“One of those places in France where everyone goes nude, where clothes aren’t allowed on the beach?”

“You’ve been googling too much on internet.”

He snickered softly and replied:

“I think so, if you said that. By yourself?”

“It was a group trip, no one I knew before.”

“Hmm! Hope you had a good time.”

“Yes,” I replied in a tone to suggest the end of the topic.

At home that evening, I was surprised to find an email from Marge, pleasantly surprised, of course.


Hope you got home safely and found everything in order.

Bet the people at work admired your tan. Had to fend off

a couple of questions about it and where we were.

Thank you again for everything. At least, no one asked what

we did. Would they have been surprised!

And was I surprised when I found the following from my

brother! He sent it a couple of days after we left.

I won’t comment further. Looking forward to hearing from you,


Hi Marge,

You’re going to like this. First, thank you for a most enjoyable weekend. After you left, she looked at me. Did I look guilty, embarrassed? She asked if we had a good time together. Maybe I did, then. Anyway, yeah, maybe she suspected it and then asked directly. Then I was embarrassed, but she just nodded and said that she had thought so. So I told her, that it was the first and only time since your birthday party. God, she is great! Just snickered and said that she hoped you weren’t better than she was in bed. Of course, I assured her that you weren’t (but damned good!). I think, however, the thought of possible competition has been a good incentive. All’s well that ends well. Hope you had a fine vacation, especially that your roommate was compatible, maybe more than just compatible. Must have been very strange, sharing a room and then all like that on the beach. Looking forward to hearing about it, she is too, and assures me that she has no hard feelings towards you.

Love, Rod

I almost laughed out loud at seeing her brother’s name: just too appropriate. Short for Rodney? Unlikely, from Marge’s name and their German background. I had already been chuckling over her few lines and then more over his, and chuckled some more as I wondered how she had replied. I felt sure that she would tell how well we had gotten along together, but would she mention all the rest? Had she told him that weekend that she had also slept with girls?

I immediately replied, telling about my chuckling and then saying that I was curious how she had replied. I also remarked about the name of her brother with a winking smiley. I sent the message and then remembered to write Anna and Petra, deciding to send the message to both of them and to keep it fairly neutral, just saying that it had been a pleasure to have met them and that they had fitted in so well with our group. Of course, it was the other way around, physically: Ron, Willy and I had fitted so well in them, and I thought that they would understand that and could appreciate the play on words.

Before I could click to send the message, I received a new message. Marge already?

Hm-hm-hmm! Roderick. I never thought of that, too good!

Wonder if she has. Old family name.

Yes, that was good, in the end. Don’t know whether they will

invite me back, might have to send the things for them.

But she is nice, I like her. I haven’t replied yet, wondering

how much to tell. Of course, I will tell that you and I were

very compatible, like hand in glove, a very well-fitting hand!

But the rest? Oh, that weekend I did tell him about girls,

and he thought that was funny, “but why not, if I like it.”

Let you know when I do. Don’t forget to write A & P

(AND P!) 😉 I haven’t yet.


I chuckled again and replied that I had been just about to send my message to both “A&P ” and would send her blind copy. Then I speculated about how Rod and his wife might react to the full story, hoping they would enjoy it, ending suggestively, “but maybe she likes you too.”

I reread my text, correcting a couple of misspellings, and sent it. Then I added her address as a blind copy to the message to Anna and Petra and sent it. I had a beer, silently toasting the three of them, enjoying recollections of our time together.

In my lonely bed, those recollections became fantasies as I did what single men do in that situation. Whose mouth was I kissing, tasting it, after I had wiped it off my chest and stomach? Then I recalled that early in the trip Marge had suggested seeing if it would shoot up on my shoulder. Should I remind her about that, and see if I still porno 64 could? (I could, but not that night, and I was fantasizing about “A & P” both helping me, probably why I never told Marge.)

I was enjoying a beer late the next evening, about to click off, when another message arrived, from Marge, as I had hoped. Just part of it:

“After a glass of wine and with a second one, I told pretty

much the whole story, left out my night with Willy and Ron.

With no details, of course, just that a couple of times all six

of us were together and that we were with the girls. Didn’t

say that I did anything with them, but that must be obvious to

Rod. What will she think about that?

Another – last glass of wine – Zum wohl!”

I raised my beer glass and emptied the little in it in response. With a second one, I continued to read:

“Oh, after I wrote that, I went back and told about watching the parade and

what happened. Hmm! That should realy surprise them! But it makes what

happened after that more logical, if that is the write word. We all really did

that?! Wonder what they will think about me! Too late to worry; I’ve sent it.

Think of me, I’ll be thinking of you, like I did last night …


“Like I did last night,” I agreed, smiling to myself, politely ignoring that I had also been thinking about Anna and Petra. I expected that she wouldn’t still be up to read a reply, having finished her wine, that had led to a couple of typos. Yes, I would think of her, liking that she would be thinking of me.

I did, concentrating on everything we did the first week together.

The next evening, there were messages from both Petra and Anna. Petra’s first:

“Hi, nice to hear from you. From your “perky breasts” Haha!

+ )

; -) o > =

+ )

I like to think of you like this:


/ /

/ /

/ /

Not really only like that, just having fun with the keyboard.

===o (not like that; also too skinny 🙁

Thank you and Marge for a great vacation. Don’t know what we would have

done without you. 😉

Really! Ron and Willy were very nice, but as Anna told you (she told me),

just for a couple of weeks. Great chance to practice our English. Haha!

Now what to send her, besides lots of thanks for introducing us to them?

Affectionately, Petra”

I snickered, thinking that her message was completely in character with how I remembered her. I glanced up to see if she had copied it to Marge. No, of course not, but Marge would enjoy it. Then I opened Anna’s message:


I don’t think I have to tell you that the time with you and Marge was the best

part of my vacation. I hope for you too, I mean, except for with Marge,

of course. Maybe I should not say it, but when I met my father yesterday

(my parents are divorced), his first remark reminded me of you. Not that I

think of you like that, but I had to recall our conversation with Marge, also

what I said that night.

Hope you don’t mind. Oh, but I guess I suddenly thought about him like that.

Funny, never had before. This is getting too personal.

Thank you for a wonderful time together.

Love, Anna”

I didn’t mind, of course, touched by her admission that she didn’t just think of me as a father figure. How could she after all we had done? And liking that she admitted that she could think of her father that way.

It was easy to respond immediately to Petra’ fresh message, wondering if she had sent one to Marge with an appropriate – more likely, inappropriate – keyboard pic. The only one I could think of was a big O, then realizing that it would be appropriate in my message to Petra. I managed in my short text to lead to the following: “O, it was so good getting to know you! Just one O doesn’t describe it.”

I postponed replying to Anna, less sure about how to respond, but I thought about her that night.

The following evening I only had a brief message from Petra:

“It sure doesn’t! Thanks for all of them.”

So I chose to think about her that night, recalling how she had told everyone that she wanted to do everything with me and how we had. I didn’t used to do that every night, but I didn’t used to have so many and so arousing fantasies for inspiration.

The next day was Friday, and as usual after work some of went out for a drink. I knew that I would be quizzed about my vacation, and I was. After fending off leading questions with smirks and chuckles, I grinned with the idea of squelching their speculations with the whole story by making sound like a fantasy.

They believed me, until I told about the group sex in the suite of Sans-culotte and Stephan, but they liked that, despite some expressions of disbelief, which was what I had hoped. When I grinned and went on to tell that the six of us had spent two evenings together, they all believed that I was making it up, and one of them bought me a drink for my story. porno izle If they only knew! I had to laugh about some comments: “older man’s fantasies;” “watching too many pornos, but I never saw anything like that;” “you just wish;” “not even on Literotica.com.”

I joshed them about their admissions about what they viewed on internet, diverting away from the last comment by asking what it was. A couple of them nodded with smirks, and the guy who had mentioned it smiled wryly and told about all the stories on the website. I feigned surprised interest. Others’ interest wasn’t feigned. After another round of drinks, with chuckles we separated, joking about going home to click on Literotica.com.”

I didn’t, didn’t need to; my experiences had been better than just reading someone else’s fantasies. I wanted to reply to Anna, but had had too much to drink to risk texting an appropriate response to her message. But I found a new message from Marge:

“OMG! Whatever they think about me, they sure enjoyed that,

and they didn’t get any details, just that we had been 3, 4, 6 on

a bed. Kind of hard to believe now. Wonder how they think we

did it. Very good, thank you! A&P replied to my emails,

completely in character. P wanted to type a pic for me, like she

did for you, but gave up, so she included that instead.

Hmmm! Very much in character, as was A’s, very differently,

of course. Back to what Rod (!) replied, below.

Hope you had a good Friday evening – with ‘the boys’?


Wow, sister! If I didn’t know you better – but I do 😉 – I’d have to believe that you were making it all up. But since you’re usually very direct – as I discovered – and there was no reason to enliven your vacation report that way, we assume it must be true.!! Liz was really surprised and very curious about what you all could have done together: “with the girls too?!” I thought so, said so, and was surprised that she seemed to like that. Sometime you will have to tell us. She sends her greetings, as do I, both with love – and from the boys,

Rod and Liz

I snickered and replied, saying that I hoped that they would really enjoy hearing the whole story. Then I told about my evening with the boys and ended by saying that I was going to bed, so that she wouldn’t need to reply immediately. I added a teasing postscript:

“PS: Not sure whom I will think about tonight, been taking turns. Hm-hmm! You have a greater choice. Sweet dreams.”

I went to bed and thought about them all, but just affectionately. In the morning, however, my stiff cock awakened me, inviting to be held, but it needed to do something else. While it was, I remembered that I had wanted to reply to Anna, glancing down and recalling that she had said it looked like her “Papa’s” when she was only that tall. Pity that I hadn’t had a daughter who could have seen mine. Had he wanted her to see his? The right or wrong thoughts to have when replying to her message?

I sat down at my computer, nude. I had never written emails that way, sometimes opening my pants and then baring my chest when I was reading a “H” story on Literotica or watching girls giving themselves an orgasm, which I find more arousing than seeing some guy with a cock bigger than mine doing something. I opened Anna’s email again:


I don’t think I have to tell you that the time with you and Marge was the best

part of my vacation. I hope for you too, I mean, except for with Marge,

of course. Maybe I should not say it, but when I met my father yesterday

(my parents are divorced), his first remark reminded me of you. Not that I

think of you like that, but I had to recall our conversation with Marge, also

what I said that night.

Hope you don’t mind. Oh, but I guess I suddenly thought about him like that.

Funny, never had before. This is getting too personal.

Thank you for a wonderful time together.

Love, Anna”

How should a man my age reply to that? One of my hands unconsciously slipped down between the chair and my balls, fondling them, letting me recall that she had sucked them. Couldn’t tell her about that, as nice as it was as a way to recall her, and certainly not that I then recalled that she had wanted to suck my cock and have me lick her muschi, because it was often better for her that way.

It had been! Stop that and get your hands on the keyboard, even if it’s beginning to stick up!

Dear Anna,

It was just like you said, the best part of it. Thank you! Marge understands;

wrote to remind me to write “A & P (AND P!)”, but I already had.

I don’t mind one bit. I hope you get to see your father more often.

If you think we are similar, I find that nice, like I did you.

My hand was back fondling my balls as I reread what I had typed. Originally, I had written: “… get to see more of your father,” but changed it, although that was literally what I meant. In the last line, I had changed “… like I do you” to “… like I did you.”

Fondling my sex izle balls, I smiled at the recognition that “like I did you” could be inferred to mean what we had done together. I had made the change to avoid suggesting that I was still infatuated with her. Was I? Too strong a word? Now the sentence was more subtly suggestive. Would she catch that? I hoped so, fondling my balls and looking down at my cock, wondering if she would get to see his, now as a grown woman.

Should I close with “love,” “affectionately,” something less? Petra had written “affectionately;” I felt more for Anna. I typed “Love” with one finger, enjoying that I was fondling my balls while I did, thinking, yes, like that, but not just that way, like I would have my loved my daughter – also that way?

I would have; it would have happened somehow, even if in my fantasy she looked more like Anna and was as eager as she had been to do what my hand was – with hers, with her pussy, with her mouth. But it was all up and down my chest and stomach. I wiped it up and licked my fingers with fond thoughts of Anna, remembering her kisses. I should have mentioned before that her lips were fuller than Petra’s, complementing her nice round breasts. Petra’s were just as nice in a different way, appropriate to her perky breasts and more outspokenness.

As I was savoring the last wipe of my fingers, a new email popped up, from Marge:

“Mmmm! My greater choice. Went through them all, took a while, but then it was you or Anna, different sensations, but both then with two hands I did my best to think of you both. Did we three do that? Whatever, my hands did, and you both were very good. Isn’t she sweet? I know you think she is, but I do too, if you don’t mind. You don’t; we know each other so well, and I don’t either. Nice way to wake up in the morning. Not as good as waking up with you in bed, but we can’t have everything.

Marge, waiting to hear from you.”

Marge, “we know each other so well.” While your fingers were doing what

they could, mine were too. You won’t mind, I hope, that I was thinking

about A, having just replied to her email from a couple of days ago. Wasn’t

in the mood for that last night. No, I didn’t tell her how I was in the mood

to do so this morning. Hmm! You’re lucky that you can use both hands and

think of us both.

Have a nice weekend, and next time I will tell you how I remember our

first nights.

Only a few seconds later, she replied, just one line preceding my text above hers:

“Make it good!” with the smiley with extended tongue.

I grinned and chuckled to myself, wondering if whoever had designed smileys had meant that one to be used the way Marge meant it.

It was a couple of days before I replied to Marge with a recital of how I remembered what we had done. She thanked me, saying that I had gotten it all right, if maybe not in the right order, adding an episode that I had forgotten to include.

Then our correspondence waned, keeping in touch, but without the erotic content. I didn’t expect to hear from Petra and didn’t, but did wonder that I hadn’t heard from Anna, recalling then that she had said that she had a potential boyfriend. Lucky guy, I thought, but was not enthused, recognizing that I had no problem if she did something with her father.

Then one evening in mid August, I found an email from each of them. I chose to open Marge’s first:


Oh, this is going to be interesting. Rod and Liz have invited me to spend a few days with them the last week in August. The boys will be visiting our parents. I can take off Friday for a long weekend, arriving late on Thursday. And I am supposed to tell all! Well, that was from his other message, but I expect that they haven’t forgotten. Wish me luck!


I wished her a lot of luck, with three smileys: smiling, winking, and with tongue extending. She replied immediately to say that she wasn’t sure which one was appropriate. Then I ventured to open Anna’s email, hoping it would be nice, but apprehensive that it might mention her friend, hoping that she would be tactfully reticent, if she did.


I wanted to write before, but too much studies. I could have mentioned it before; when I met my father, he suggested that maybe I would like to spend a weekend with him, about an hour by train from here. This weekend.

Will he ask me what Petra and I did? Probably. Have to think about what to tell. Of course, he knows now that I sleep with boys – not like the first year or two. Rather think, however, that he would not be so keen to learn that I had a vacation affair, forgetting the rest. Maybe with you? But what would Petra have been doing? Maybe: “just spent a lot of time with a nice American your age (Papa’s) and his younger lady friend”? Petra too? Have to think about it.

Oh, no one has seen my tan – fading now. Well, the girls at my sports club, who were very impressed and asked lots of questions. Just told them about Ron and Willy, but they liked that, hopefully assuming that we were in separate rooms.

Got to go.



Funny how one can almost hear a person’s voice when reading a letter. She could be so tactful: “no one has seen my tan.” I went to bed, thinking about how to reply as I fell asleep.

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