Date: Sun, 22 Nov 2015 13:47:28 +0000
From: James <niftyaccount27@yahoo.com>
Subject: Month in Marseille with Hatem- Submission 1

Warning in advance: This story involves a sexual relationship between two
boys, aged 15 and 12. If this offends you, you're definitely in the wrong
place.

Please donate to nifty, any contribution is welcome.

Introduction:

I guess I'll begin by introducing myself. My name is Lewis, I'm fifteen and
from a small town in Wales. I'm roughly five foot eight inches and have
short, almost black hair.

I live with both of my parents, under a very strict regime of chores,
additional schoolwork, sports clubs and volunteering. They say it'll help
me in later life to be so mature and responsible from an early age, and
although it hurts to admit it, I think they were right. Compared to my
friends, I have a completely different perspective on life. I get annoyed
when things aren't clean, I get frustrated when other kids don't hand
homework in on time, and generally, I feel more like an adult than the
child that I'm treated as. So with my parents enforcing strict rules and
expectations, I've turned out pretty well, which in my opinion settles the
whole nature vs nurture argument, I certainly wasn't born like this.

My dad, for a start, dropped out of studying law at university in his first
year, and instead decided to create his own gardening business, which isn't
actually as boring as it sounds given all he does is send individual
workers out to people's houses to do the work while he sits at home, raking
in the cash while booking in new customers.

My mum, on the other hand, dropped out of school at 17 and found a full
time job, until she met my dad at some Bob Marley tribute band and well,
you can guess what happened next. From the story I was told, it's safe to
say that I'll never enjoy 'One Love' quite the same without the image of my
parents fucking in my head. Oh well, they're both relatively happy together
and share the view that I should be thrown into the world of work at the
soonest possible opportunity.

Over the summer holidays I was normally signed up to some work or
educational programme by my parents, so I'd never had a real chance to
enjoy the summer like everyone else. As a kid I was sent to summer camps
which surprisingly, still exist. As I got older they'd ship me away to a
relatives house to do chores or look after their kids, which I wasn't paid
for given I was related to them and "should be bonding with them anyway."

This wasn't all bad, one year I was sent to Australia for the summer to
live in my aunties house. I was given the task of looking after my two
cousins, Liam and Ella, who were probably about 6 and 7, which really shows
how much faith in me they had, given I was about 12 myself at the time.

-----

Back to the main story, or the story that I'll be telling you all about
over the next few weeks. I'll be posting in the form of a diary or journal
entry. As this is the first chapter, I will post three entries, but after
that, each submission will be one entry at a time.

-----

18th July, 2016

So my parents surprised me yet again, and announced over one of my mum's
home cooked meals tonight that I'm off to France for about a month to
work. My dad wants to expand his business, and France is a decent place to
start given its close proximity, so I'm going over there for the summer and
working on various houses as a temporary worker for my dad.

After hearing the details, I'm actually looking forward to it for a
change. It turns out I'm going to the South of France, somewhere near
Marseille. I should probably point out that I speak French to a decent
standard, but that's not really unexpected given my parents. They said I'll
be living with an old couple, Jean-Jacques and AgnÃ¨s
Valbuenes. They'd agreed to let me stay, and in exchange I'll be doing
their housework and gardening that they're now unable to do themselves.

Apparently I'm leaving next Friday, the day I break up from school. I'm
pretty sure my parents want me gone as soon as possible, could they not
even give me a week to myself?

Oh well, I'd better brush up on my French over the next week!

..........

25th July, 2016

So the last few days were boring. I hate being in school when we're not
actually taught anything. Instead we're told we can 'chill' in the
classrooms because it's the end of the term. Fuck, if my parents heard the
teachers say that, they'd pull me out of the school straight away. I'm
pretty sure they wanted me to join a private school last year, which I told
them was pointless, given I'd already started my GCSEs. Besides, I do have
friends at my current school, and I didn't like the idea of leaving them
and making new, posh, arrogant, middle class friends at an ancient grammar
school or something.

Back to this week, my dad insisted that each day after school he'd teach me
various tricks to gardening and ways to be more efficient and
productive. But seriously, it's gardening. It's tedious more than anything
else. But I guess I was his advertisement for the French locals so I have
to know everything.

It's now five o'clock, and I'm being driven to the airport in about an
hour, my flight leaves at half eight tonight. I was going to be picked up
by Jean-Jacques at the other end, who called my dad about half an hour ago,
to tell me he'd be holding a sign with 'Briggs' - my surname on it.

26th July, 2016

So this is going to be a longer report than yesterday's, mainly because I'm
going to tell you what happened since I arrived here in Marseille.

I'll begin with the flight, which was pretty procedural, even including the
typical warning that someone on the plane was severely allergic to
peanuts. It was a relatively small plane, mainly full of older people on
their travels to find a quiet place to relax. I had the pleasure of sitting
next to an old lady travelling alone, she introduced herself as Dawn and
essentially told me her life story over the flight which lasted a few
hours. I'm going to sound weird saying this but I enjoy talking to old
people and hearing of their experiences. It also must have been nice for
Dawn to chat to someone for a change. She explained how her husband died of
lung cancer roughly twenty years ago, and how she only had one child and a
grandchild who rarely visited because she was growing up and starting a
career. Anyways, I'm sure you don't want to hear about Dawn, you probably
want to hear about what happened when I got off the plane.

After queueing for a short period of time at the Marseille Provence
Airport, I made it to those weird revolving doors leading outside. The
warmth hit me unexpectedly; I didn't think it would be this hot at night,
but I guess it is the south of France in summer.

As promised, Jean-Jacques was standing outside, leaning against an old
Mercedes holding a sign with my name on it. He's a short, plump man, about
five foot six, so a few inches smaller than me. He's almost completely
bald, with a few tufts of grey hair at each side and his eyes looked a
little sunken into his face.

"Excusez-moi monsieur, je suis Lewis, il est agrÃ©able de vous
rencontrer."

(Excuse me sir, I'm Lewis, it's nice to meet you)

I reached out my hand in the expectation that he'd shake it but instead he
smiled, grunted a deep laugh and embraced me, pulling me down towards him
quite abrasively, before saying in his French accent, "Lewis, you can call
me Jac," he said as he patted me on the back and then kissed me once on my
cheek. "And don't worry about speaking French all the time to me, save that
for my wife, she speaks not a word." He finished with, again with his deep
chuckle.

"Come, we live two hours away." He said quickly as he grabbed my suitcase
and hurled it into the back seat of his car.

"Sit up front with me, you can tell me about yourself."

Clearly his English is good, which is also good for me now that I don't
have to translate everything he says. But on the other hand, I can still
practice when I speak to his wife.

We talked for the whole journey, I told him about myself and what I'm
interested in, before asking him about where he lived and what I'd be
doing.

"You will like the house my boy. It is a nice, cozy little maison. There
are two bedroom inside, one for my wife and I and another which we intended
to be for you. But unfortunately we have our grandson staying with us for
the summer also. So he will sleep there and you will be sleeping in the
garage."

I looked at him worryingly, before he laughed again and said, "don't worry,
it has been uhh, changed into a room to sleep. You will see, it is very
nice. I'm sorry about it though. The boy was given to us last minute. He is
twelve, a good boy, a handful, but a good boy."

By the time we reached his house, I was exhausted. It was about twelve
o'clock but Jac told me he would make me something to eat if I wanted. I
said I was fine and that I'd just want to get some sleep.

He said that his wife and grandson would be asleep and that he'd introduce
me tomorrow.

The house is nice. It's bigger than he described it to be, with two floors
with large rooms and an open kitchen- dining area.

He showed me the garage, which is surprisingly nice and modern compared to
the rest of the house. They must have had it recently converted into a
guest room and they'd done a really good job. I was given a double bed, an
ensuite bathroom and there was a decent sized TV in the corner of the room
attached to the wall. Additionally, Instead of a traditional garage door,
there was a full wall of double glazed glass, giving me a nice view of the
French city lights. I shut the curtains for now, not wanting people to see
inside.

It was, however, still a garage in a sense, with various tools and
equipment here and there, and the floor was essentially concrete with a
large rug thrown over the top of it. But I can't complain, it's nice.

This brings me to the present moment, where I'm sat on my bed, absolutely
exhausted and about to go to sleep.

Goodnight everyone.

27th July, 2016

I woke up about 10 o'clock this morning to the smell of a cooked
breakfast. Normally I'd be up earlier than this but I was so tired I must
have slept in. I quickly walked into the bathroom and jumped in the
shower. Like the bedroom, it was modern and clean, and the shower was
powerful and warm.

I stood there as the water pelted off my body, facing the floor and
thinking about what I'd be doing today. I was nervous about meeting
everyone, I wanted to create a good first impression but I'm not usually
good at meeting people.

I began to wash my body, cleaning the obvious places, including the flesh
of my cock which began to grow as I touched it. In terms of size, I'm about
6 inches when hard, maybe a little more, and I'm quite proud of its
appearance. I like to keep pubic hair trimmed though, so I brought some
electric hair sheers to occasionally keep it tidy. I'd done this the day
before I left, so it was short as I liked it. I decided against relieving
myself on this occasion, mainly because I wanted to make an appearance to
the rest of the family as soon as possible in an attempt to not seem lazy.

I jumped out of the shower and walked into the bedroom, still naked. I
picked up a towel and began to dry my body and hair, before rummaging
through my suitcase to find a pair of underwear and some shorts.

As I turned around again, I thought I saw a quick movement coming from a
small gap in the glass wall from the corner of my eye. But when I looked
properly, there was nothing there. It thought it was just a bird or
something at the time.

I quickly changed into my clothes and headed out of the garage and into the
kitchen, where I was greeted by a warm looking woman, a similar height to
Jac.

"Bonjour. vous devez Ãªtre Lewis! Je m'appele AgnÃ¨s. Venir,
avoir quelque chose Ã manger. Qu'est-ce que tu veux?"

(Hello, you must be Lewis, I'm AgnÃ¨s. Come, have something to
eat. What do you want?"

I replied in French the best I could, and ended up asking for sausages and
bacon on toast. I'm not entirely sure that's what I wanted but it's the
only breakfast food I could think of at the time. She chatted away for a
few minutes, although I had to interrupt her momentarily to ask if she
could speak a little slower so I could understand.

She seems like a nice lady, and it was interesting to hear about her
life. She'd been married to Jean-Jacques for forty five years, forty five
years!

They'd met at school in Lille in their teens, married at twenty five, and
had been together ever since. They were now both seventy, and still seemed
to love each other, which was nice, and encouraging. I'd always liked the
idea of being with someone my whole life, but at the minute, I'm still not
'out' and haven't been in any relationship with a guy. I'd had girlfriends
in the past but I'd never gotten into anything serious, and I'd lost my
virginity at fourteen to a girlfriend but that was only down to peer
pressure and wanting to fit in like the other guys.

I ate my breakfast and as I finished, Jac came into the kitchen and said,
"Morning Lewis. I see you have met AgnÃ¨s. I hope she is treating you
well." He smiled, as he moved in close to her and kissed her on the back of
her neck as she washed up.

He then muttered something to her in French that I couldn't understand,
mainly because he talked in his grumbling voice that I suspect even a
native francophone would struggle to comprehend. She giggled at whatever he
said which made me a little worried they were talking about me.

He then turned around and began to tell me about what I'd be doing over the
next few weeks. He showed me a map of the village and showed me which
houses I'd be working at. I start on Monday, which means I have this
weekend to familiarise myself with the village and get to know the house.

"You have met Hatem non?"

"Hatem?"

"Ahh, the grandchild," he announced, "i am sure he will find you." He
chuckled.

"Today, you are free to do anything you want. Myself and AgnÃ¨s will
be going for a meal later tonight for our anniversary, you are welcome to
join."

I shrugged off this idea, telling him it was his anniversary and that I'd
be perfectly fine at the house. Before adding,

"Mais fÃ©licitations Ã vous deux."

(But congratulations to the both of you)

They both smiled before thanking me. I asked to be excused and left the
kitchen, walking back into the garage, this time opening the curtains to
let the light in. I could finally take in the view from the glass wall, and
it was magnificent. It overlooked the garden and then down into the city,
the sun gazing down, causing my eyes to adjust.

As I stared out over the city, I heard a knock at my door, so I turned and
headed towards it and opened it.

I'm pretty sure my jaw must have dropped, because standing there, was the
most beautiful boy that I'd ever seen. He looked to be about twelve or
thirteen years old, about five foot four inches tall and leaning sideways
against the wall. He was lean and fit, with firm legs which were visible
from the knee down past his football shorts.

He was breathtaking. He had short, brown hair with intensely green eyes and
a dimple on his right cheek coming from a side smirk on his face.

I was lost for words, and expected him to say something first, but instead,
he just looked at me, still smirking, and began almost studying my body.

I hesitated but said, "uhh, bonjour, je m'appelle Lewis..." As I held out
my hand.

He paused, then stood up from the wall and shook my hand, before saying,
"I'm Hatem. Your accent is good."

I smiled awkwardly, before asking if he spoke much English.

"Yes, we're taught it from a young age here. How old are you?"

He seemed so forward with his questions, like he was interrogating me. "I'm
fifteen. You?"

"Twelve. How long are you here?"

"About a month I think..."

"Uhhuh." He nodded, seeming to be taking it all in, as if he was profiling
me.

"You have a girlfriend in England yes?"

This question was a little weird, but I went along with it and told him I
didn't.

"Pourquoi?" He demanded.

(Why)

"Pourquoi as-tu besoin de savoir?" (Why do you need to know?) I asked,
raising my eyebrows.



He smiled, then shrugged his shoulders.

"Come, I will show you the village. Maybe later we can go to the city and I
will show you the stadium."

"Stadium?"

"Stade VÃ©lodrome, the home of Marseille of course. You like
football?"

I nodded, by which he responded by saying, "you're so quiet."

In truth, I'm not. I just couldn't help looking at his eyes, and couldn't
muster up more than a few words at a time.

I blinked a few times to bring myself back to reality, and told him I'd go
with him.

"Good." He said, before walking away, clearly expecting me to follow him.

For the next few hours, he took me around the village, showing me where the
nearest shops are and where to catch the bus from. He showed me the field
where he'd come and play football with other lads and finally he showed me
around the houses that I'd be working at. He then told me about himself,
how he lives about two hours away, still near to Marseille but on the other
side. He's here for the summer because his dad works abroad and his mum is
too busy to look after him. He said he was happy I was there, otherwise
he'd be really bored being at the house by himself. He seemed really nice,
and fuck, he's beautiful. Every time I looked at him today I couldn't help
but admire him. And the football shorts he wore emphasised his perfectly
round butt, and added to the fact he kept adjusting himself in his front
department, I found myself with an awkward boner on more than one occasion,
which I'm sure he picked up on at least once.

When we got back to the house at about 2 o'clock, Jac was sat next to the
door in the sun, and smiled as he saw us approaching.

Hatem ran off upstairs and said he'd meet me in the garage about twenty
minutes later, so I sat next to Jac as he patted the seat next to him.

"I see you've met Hatem." He chuckled.

"Yeah he seems nice."

"Ahh yes, a good boy. But if he gets too much then let me know. He has a
habit of clinging on to people and becoming a nuisance."

"Don't worry, I'm fine with it. It'll be nice to have someone to talk to."

We talked for a few more minutes, mainly about what I thought of the
village and then about what time dinner would be etc.

I went back into the garage and lay on the bed, waiting for Hatem to come
back down. Again, this brings me to the present moment, so I will continue
with what happened tomorrow night.

------

End of part 1.