Date: Sat, 22 Jan 2005 08:15:48 -0500
From: jamieanderson <JamieAnderson@compuserve.com>
Subject: Terry's Summer Holiday

                         The Disclaimer

The following is entirely a work of fiction. It contains several
fairly graphic descriptions of sex between two or more males of
assorted ages.

If this turns your stomach, may I recommend a good meal before
reading further, as there is nothing worse than the dry heaves.

If it is illegal to read this where you live, then it is back to
reading it under the covers in bed! However these days you have the
advantage that a computer screen does not require a flashlight to
read it in the dark.

If you are underage, I must point out that the sexual acts described
here are performed by professional sexual athletes, and you should
therefore not try them at home. Well, not without adequate adult
supervision, at least.

                    Terry's Summer Holiday

For the first time in his life Terry was looking forwards to a
holiday away from his parents. Three weeks in Scotland, at the
Inverbeath Adventure Training Camp for Boys. According to the
brochure there was mountain climbing, pony trekking, rambling,
swimming, canoeing, in fact the list seemed to be almost endless.
He'd never get through it all in only three weeks. But these wild
escapades were not the real attraction for Terry. He just wanted to
be alone with other boys with no adults around.

Recently he had made a wonderful discovery, sex. He had been happily
bumbling along through his childhood when some changes had started to
happen to his body. Some of these were obvious; his voice went all
funny, then dropped so low that it sounded like he was talking from
his boots. Other changes were subtler, in his pants, his willy
quietly got a lot bigger and hair grew round it. At first just a few
strands, but now he had a nice little triangle of light brown hair
down there. But, that was just the physical side of it; the damn
thing had developed a life of its own! It had this annoying habit of
getting hard at the most awkward moments, like in the changing room.

Terry's next discovery was masturbation - well to tell the truth it
wasn't really his discovery - one of his classmates told him about
it. This he found to be instantly addictive and, like so many before
him, it became his principle hobby. John, a classmate, provided the
next lesson, mutual masturbation. This, Terry decided, was at least
twice as much fun as the solo version.

But, as it required a cooperative partner, a complete lack of adults
and preferably an isolated location, it was not nearly as frequent an
event in his life as he would have liked it to be. However this
adventure camp definitely sounded as if it had potential, lots of
other boys, plenty of out-of-the-way places and few inquisitive
adults to get in the way.

While Terry hoped to be debauching himself at camp, his parents would
be relaxing in a small hotel in the south of France. Yes, two
countries would be about a suitable distance away from him.

His parents were both artists, painters by choice but neither one of
them was of a high enough standard to make a living from their art.
As a result they both ran a small Graphic Arts studio. There they
designed logos, letterheads, forms and the like. Some of their
customers were quite large companies and they made quite a good
living from it. Alas, their son had not inherited their talents and
he could barely draw a straight line. As his academic talents were
also on the modest side his father despaired at the idea of him ever
finding employment. Perhaps, as he was fond of saying; he would have
to buy the lad a window cleaning round.

But, Terry was a teenager, and as such just lived for today. He had
one more year at school to sort things like a job out. But for the
moment, Terry was set up for a perfect summer. Alas, Fate had other
plans for him; naturally Terry was about the last person on this
planet to find this out.

Twenty-four hours before he was due to leave, the thunderbolt struck,
during breakfast to be precise. As usual the TV was on, tuned to a
24-hour news station and burbling on about the ghastly state of the
world. When the newsreader said, "And now for the national news. Last
night the police raided a youth camp in Inverbeath in Scotland and
arrested five members of the staff. They have all been charged with
the sexual abuse of children. The parents of the boys are being
contacted and asked to collect their sons. We can now go over to our
reporter, Jake Roberts, who is at the scene."

Much to Terry's disgust his dad grabbed the remote and turned the TV
off before any more details came out. However, while his parents went
into a huddle in the kitchen rearranging the plans for the summer,
Terry slunk off to the computer and went onto the Internet. Although
most of the sordid details of what had gone on in the camp were
missing, the word 'sodomy' did appear a couple of times. Fortunately
the Internet can also be used to find the meaning of words and very
soon Terry had discovered the ins and outs, as it were, of the word
'sodomy'. It left him in a very confused state of mind. It had never
occurred to him that boys could be fucked. On one hand he seemed to
have just missed an unforgettable experience, on the other, he might
not have liked it.

His parents emerged from the kitchen with the proposal that he now
join them for two weeks living in a small hotel in rural France or,
if he preferred, he could stay with an aging aunt in Devon. Caught
between a rock and a hard place, Terry reluctantly agreed to
accompany them.

One of the advantages of having your own business is, you can start
and end your holiday midweek. Not only does this greatly reduce the
cost of the fares, it also avoids the crowded roads on the weekend.

For Terry the journey down to the channel, across on the ferry and
then south into France was as boring as possible. Then it got worse!
The first night was spent halfway to their destination. It was one of
those 'automated motels' with a human staff of one. For Terry it was
absolute Hell. He had to sleep on a fold-down bed in the same room as
his parents. This meant that he could not even have one decent wank.
The next day, after a rushed breakfast, they set off with Terry, for
the first time in his life, suffering from sexual frustration!

When they arrived the village was beautiful, even Terry had to admit
that, and the hotel, Le Cheval Blanc, was at one end of it. Set back
from the road in its own grounds, the hotel had once been the country
home of some minor notable. It seemed to ramble in all directions,
including the vertical. They arrived just after noon and ran straight
into the next little problem, the hotel was full.

The prospect of spending the entire two weeks sleeping on a fold-down
bed in the same room as his parents loomed horribly large in Terry's
future. He began to wish he had brought his tent and sleeping bag.
The girl on reception then decided to consult the owner, a happy
looking, slightly overweight, typical Frenchman. There then followed
a dialog in very fast French, which no one in Terry's party stood a
chance of following.

Finally the owner switched into English and addressed them, "There is
one room that you may 'ave. But it is very small and usually used by
the staff. Alas it has no bathroom and you will 'ave to use the staff
facilities. Will this be satisfactory?"

This he accompanied with a Gallic shrug, indicating that there was no
other option. Given little choice the family agreed. The owner then
summoned 'the boy' to carry their luggage and show them to their
rooms.

The boy was a lad some two years Terry's senior. He was working his
way up the hotel industry. One day he would own a small hotel of his
own, but at present he was the junior waiter, the kitchen help, the
odd job man and the pageboy, all rolled into one - rather attractive
- body. Terry who, if you remember, had now gone more that a day
without a wank, found him to be most enticing, and began to fantasize
about a romp in bed with him.

Currently the boy was dressed as the lunch waiter, and he grabbed the
bags, room keys and set off for the stairs at a lively pace. Terry's
parents' room was quite nice, spacious with an en-suite bathroom, TV,
mini bar and all the rest of the accoutrements of a modern hotel
room. After the family had agreed to meet up in the restaurant for a
late lunch, the boy grabbed Terry's bag and went out into the
corridor.

The journey to Terry's room was an interesting one. In the first
place it seemed to be accessed via a three dimensional maze, and one
with a lot of vertical components in it. They went up stairs, along
corridors, down stairs, round bends, through archways, up more stairs
and somewhere along the way, the carpeting stopped.

During this trip Terry was treated to a detailed view of the boy's
bum as it preceded him up the stairs. It was, he noticed, quite
muscular and nicely rounded. Control of Terry's budding manhood once
more slipped from his grasp and it became somewhat rigid in his
pants. Desperately he rearranged things down there so that it didn't
show too much. Eventually they arrived in what was obviously the
attic.

"That is my room," said the boy, pointing to a rather low door, "We
will be neighbours. My name is Marcel."

Here the boy unlocked an equally low door next to his, opened it,
ducked his head and entered. Terry didn't quite have to duck to make
it through the door.

"Here we are!" said Marcel dumping Terry's rucksack on the bed.

The room was anything but lavish. The furnishings consisted of a
single bed - crammed up against one wall, a chair - that doubled as a
bedside table, a tiny dressing table and a matching wardrobe. One
window supplied the light and, with two people in the room, it was
severely overcrowded.

Somehow, as Marcel turned in the tight space, he managed to brush his
hand against Terry's crotch. Although Terry instantly drew back, he
was quite sure that his stiffy had been detected. But before he had
time to react the boy was squeezing past him to get to the door.
Terry had managed to turn his back on him to protect his cock from
further contact, but this left his bum sticking out. The boy managed
to slide his crotch over Terry's butt as he exited the room. There
was no way that Terry could miss the fact that a semi rigid cock had
just been pressed into his buns!

Terry was now in a bit of a quandary, he knew that he had the hots
for this cute French boy, and he was also in no doubt that the desire
was being reciprocated, alas he lacked the knowledge of what he
should do next. Fortunately, his new friend didn't seem to suffer
from the same trouble.

"I'll show you the quick way back, but you must keep out of
everyone's way when you use it, as guests are not normally allowed to
go this way," he said, handing the room key to Terry and leading the
way to another low door. Terry locked his door and followed.

As they descended the rather shabby staircase Marcel explained that
this used to be the servants stairs and they led directly to the
passage between the kitchen and the restaurant. Presently they
arrived at the ground floor and just before they went out into the
corridor the boy stopped, turned and spoke.

"In one hour lunch will be over. Then I will show you some of the
other secrets of the backstairs."

He then slid an appreciative hand over Terry's butt, winked and
before Terry could react, he was through the door and into the
corridor, leaving a stunned English boy with no other option than to
follow him. Terry was then directed to one end while Marcel went
hurriedly into the kitchen.

As he went through the door Terry discovered that he was standing
right behind his parents who were obviously waiting for him.

"Where the Hell do you think he's got to?" inquired his dad, "I'm
starving!"

"Where has who got to?" asked Terry innocently, making them both
jump.

Although Terry didn't realise it, lunch was conducted at an unseemly
fast pace. Normally this meal takes about two hours with long
intervals between courses. However, due to their late start, each of
the three courses was served in rapid succession. A bottle of wine
had also been served and his parents were now looking forwards to a
nice nap. So, as they made their way off to their room, Terry nipped
out the door he had come in by and headed for the stair.

In the kitchen someone exploded into a torrent of obviously abusive
French. Terry ran for the door leading to the stairs and shot through
it. He just caught a glimpse of a large man in white coming out of
the kitchen door. Terry shot up the stairs taking them two at a time.
Thus he was quite out of breath when he reached the top. He was
standing, still wheezing, when Marcel came up at a more leisurely
pace.

"Was there a fight in the kitchen?" Terry asked.

Marcel laughed and said, "No, it was just some Americans. They insist
on paying with their American Express cards and the only one who
knows how to work the machine is the Chef. He gets very annoyed when
he is dragged from his normal job to do that."

Terry grinned and unlocked his door. As he went through it, Marcel
followed, closing the door behind them. The short hairs on the back
of Terry's neck rose. The French boy was behind him and very close.
Somehow Terry didn't think that this was solely caused by the lack of
space.

"From this room you have the best view in the hotel," Marcel said,
almost directly into his ear.

Terry moved over to the window and became puzzled. The 'view', was
that of what had once been an inner courtyard. But a large part of it
was now covered by room extensions, which he could look almost
directly down on.

Marcel again moved behind him and said, "Each of the three best
suites has their bedrooms in what was the courtyard. As there was not
enough light they put windows in the roof. The guests often forget to
pull the screens over them at night, and from this room you can see
right in."

As he was speaking his arm slid round Terry's waist and tenderly
pulled the boy back against him. There was no way that Terry could
pretend that he could not feel the erect cock that was now pressing
against the crack of his ass.

"What can you see?" Terry asked, as his mouth got very dry.

Marcel's hands now dropped and he began to fondle the boy, playing
with the lad's hardening cock and weighing his balls.

"I've seen almost everything," he whispered into the boy's ear, "And
tonight we might have a very good view. A couple on their honeymoon
are arriving, quite late. That means it will be dark and they will
most likely not notice the window in the roof. Have you ever watched
a man and woman make love?"

Terry, whose tongue was now stuck to the roof of his dry mouth, could
only shake his head.

"Oh, it will be very educational for you. Some of the newlyweds are
quite athletic in bed."

The French boy's hands seemed to be everywhere on Terry's body, and
where ever they touched him they left ripples of pleasure in their
wake. Slowly he sunk back into Marcel's strong arms and snuggled up
against his broad chest. He thought that he was in Heaven and could
only groan as Marcel's fingers worked their way into his pants. In
fact, when he looked his pants were now round his ankles and his
Y-fronts were in the process of joining them. The French boy's
fingers were slowly stretching his cock and pulling carefully on his
balls.

"Has anyone ever sucked your cock?" Marcel asked, in a husky whisper.

Again Terry could only shake his head.

"Then I think that it is time I showed you where our bathroom is. The
shower is big enough for both of us."

Terry stiffened as the thought of being caught with another boy
flashed through his mind.

"Relax, there are only three of us on this floor, you, me and the
junior cook, Paul. There is no danger of us being caught, the others
never come up here in the afternoon, and Paul pissed off the Chef
this morning so he is having to work right through his break."

The hands that had so surreptitiously undressed him were now pulling
his underwear back up and recovering his pants. Within a few moments
he was tidy enough to make the short journey to the bathroom with
Marcel.

Once they were secure behind the bolted bathroom door Terry once more
found himself in Marcel's arms. It felt wonderful, just hugging and
being hugged. He nuzzled the French boy's chest and felt a hand run
through his hair. Gradually the hand rotated his head until he was
looking up into Marcel's eyes. They were brown and seemed to sparkle.

The realisation that he was about to be kissed by another male
paralysed him at first. Spellbound he watched the soft lips come
closer and pucker up. One half of his mind was screaming at him to
run for his life, while the other half was dying to know what it felt
like to be kissed. His total inertia ensured Marcel's success. Their
lips met and Terry's heart raced.

Then he felt Marcel's tongue run along his lips, pushing slightly. It
seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to open them and let
it explore his mouth. A few moments later, when Marcel sucked the air
out of his lungs, Terry came close to fainting. Marcel was now the
master, Terry his pupil and the first lesson was about to begin.

The next bit was always just a blur when Terry tried to remember. One
moment they were kissing while fully clothed, and the next they were
standing naked under the shower. The water was at first a little
cooler than Terry would have liked, but that just made him cuddle
closer to Marcel's strong, warm body.

After some time Marcel reached for the soap and they began washing
each other. For the first time Terry got a look at Marcel's manhood
and got a bit of a shock. As Marcel was older than any other boy
Terry had seen naked he was quite prepared to find a bigger cock, but
the thickness of what bounced between Marcel's legs did startle him.
Gingerly he reached out and touched the thing. Why he could not
encircle its girth with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand!
Meanwhile, Marcel in turn was admiring his prize.

"You are so beautiful and white," he said.

This was quite true, as Terry had not managed to get in any
sunbathing yet this year. His skin looked like ivory when compared to
Marcel's almost olive colour. Even the brief area around his groin,
normally covered by his Speedos, was much darker than Terry.

While Terry seemed to be captivated by Marcel's manhood, the French
boy was equally interested in Terry's butt. As well as being an
attractive colour, it was an equally eye-catching shape and Marcel
had great hopes of exploring its depths.

"And now I am going to suck your cock," Marcel announced.

This caused Terry instant concern as he felt he was quite close to an
orgasm, and that was just from touching Marcel's weapon.

"But, what happens if I cum?" he asked.

Marcel just laughed, "There is no way that you will not cum. I'll
make sure of that."

So, with no further ado he slid down the front of the English boy
until the rigid young cock was level with his lips. As far as Terry
was concerned several things seemed to happen at once. A soapy finger
slid between his buns and started to do the most pleasant things to
his ring. Then his young manhood was suddenly enveloped in a warm,
moist cavern. After a moment he felt Marcel's fingers pull his
foreskin back allowing the sensitive head of his little cock to come
against the French boy's tongue. After that he never even noticed the
finger that had been rubbing up and down his ring, quietly press
directly in the middle of it, and surreptitiously enter him.

It was only when Terry noticed that he was standing on tiptoe that he
discovered he was firmly impaled on Marcel's index finger. But he
could not really concentrate on the matter, as what Marcel's mouth
was doing to his cock was much too much of a distraction.

Marcel was enjoying himself, not that he really liked giving
blowjobs, but he loved the way the kid was losing all control. With a
bit of luck, Marcel would not have to fight to get Paul face down on
the bed tonight, this young English boy would turn over very easily.
From the tightness of the boy's butt Marcel could tell he was a
virgin. A condition would not prevail for long, if Marcel had his
way. Soon a nice thick French cock would be widening that tight
little butt hole. But first he had better make the kid lose any
remaining shreds of self-control.

The insidious, invading finger slid a little further into the boy and
the tip could now reach that flat area which was the boy's prostate
gland. Slyly the tip began to massage the spot. The effect was almost
instantaneous. Terry gripped Marcel's head and tried to raise himself
further off the floor to get away from the intruding digit. But of
course the higher he tried to go, the more the finger followed him.
Next he began to pull Marcel off his cock pleading, "I'm gonna cum!"

Marcel just hummed happily keeping a firm grip on his victim until
the inevitable happened; the poor boy lost the battle and shot his
lot.  Now he could enjoy that intense, wild eagerness that totally
dominates a young boy when he has an orgasm. Ruthlessly he exploited
the boy's ecstasy, draining every drop of the lad's seed in the
process.

From Terry's end, he had no idea of what had hit him. He knew that
his cock was pumping out cum like it had never done before. God alone
knew what Marcel had done to him, but he knew that he would do
anything that the French boy asked him to, just to have it happen
again.

Skilfully Marcel brought the boy back down. It was obvious from his
shaken state that he had never experienced anything like that before.
Marcel got to his feet and took the boy back into his arms. Judging
by the way the boy clung to him Marcel decided that a kiss was in
order. He liked the way the boy yielded to his investigating tongue.
This almost total lack of resistance egged the French boy on, well;
he had a perfectly good erection just waiting for a hot young mouth...

He came up for air and whispered in Terry's ear, "Now it is your
turn."

Terry was still not quite 'with it' when he found he was being pushed
to his knees. Then there was this fat cock bobbing in front of his
face. He looked up and through the falling water from the showerhead
he saw Marcel smile and nod. Next a hand went round the thick shaft
and peeled back the foreskin leaving the head naked. A clear drop of
liquid filled the eye and the hand moved, wiping the crystal fluid
onto his parted lips.

It was probably some suckling reflex, left over from his infancy,
which now took over and caused Terry to suck the cock head into his
mouth. It must have been, as he was too paralysed to have done it on
his own. Marcel's other hand now pressed on the back of his head
encouraging him to take more of the organ into his mouth. Soon the
tip of it was almost touching the back of his throat. At that point
Marcel took over completely and began fucking the boy's face.

Terry was now on the horns of a dilemma, if he pulled off Marcel's
cock he would shame himself in front of his new friend and if he
didn't he would soon have his mouth filled with cum. Even worse, he
would have to swallow it.

Of course while Terry was pondering his fate, Marcel was pumping
himself to an orgasm as fast as he could. He didn't want the boy to
have enough time to reach the wrong decision. But, just looking at
the boy's pretty face greatly distorted by the thick cock that was
fucking it, was quite enough to push Marcel over the edge. Although
he kept his hand on the back of the boy's head as he pumped his seed
into his mouth, Marcel did not hold the boy so that he could not
escape. Much to his delight the boy stayed voluntarily and even
swallowed every drop.

Terry tried not to think about what he had just done. He hadn't given
himself a chance to taste it; he had just blindly swallowed, almost
in a panic to get the stuff out of his mouth as quickly as possible.
But now it was still dribbling out and he took the time to let it run
round his tongue. It didn't taste that bad at all. Now he wished he
had not been so hasty. But there was still a little left that he
could suck out...

Eventually Marcel had to physically pull him off the now limp organ.
They stood under the shower for an age, just kissing. Then Marcel
suggested a swim and very reluctantly Terry let him go.

So, when Terry's parents rose from their siesta they found their son
innocently splashing about in the swimming pool with some of the
other guests and a few of the staff.

The evening meal was, for Terry at least, a most interesting one.
Marcel had made sure that he was serving the family's table and he
was having a lot of fun with Terry. The amount of what could only be
described as, surreptitious foreplay, that Marcel was getting away
with both surprised and frightened Terry. Not only that, he went
through the entire meal with an erection.

Afterwards he found himself with a problem. His parents had retired
early. He was sent to his room. Marcel had to work until the
restaurant closed and of course there was this stonking great hard-
on, which he wanted to keep his hands off until his new friend
appeared.

He had not put the light on when he had entered his room and it had
gradually gotten darker and darker. Suddenly things got a little bit
lighter and he looked out of the window. In one of the rooms below
the lights had been put on and he could see people moving about.

There was a young couple and carrying their cases was Marcel. He was
showing the couple where everything was, but it was quite obvious
even from where Terry was watching, that the male of the pair was
trying to get rid of him. Finally he stuffed some notes into Marcel's
hand, who instantly bowed and left.

With his conscience steadily turning up the guilt Terry watched the
couple as they embraced. Then the man began to undress the woman.
Neither party seemed to be in any hurry, but Terry noticed that a
little trickle of sweat was now running down his forehead and his
erection was now beginning to hurt.

The girl was wearing only her underwear, the man had just removed his
shirt and Terry's hand had somehow got wrapped round the shaft of his
naked cock, when the door behind him opened. This noise nearly
stopped the poor lad's heart. To his relief he found it was only
Marcel. The French boy put what he was carrying down on the small
dressing table. In the gloom Terry could make out the shape of a wine
bottle, two glasses and some other things. One of these objects
Marcel lifted, got down on his knees and hunted for a moment until he
found a power outlet. He plugged the device in and stood up.

"It is a baby alarm. The microphone is plugged in down in their room
and now we can hear as well as see what happens," he explained, as
some very human moans came from the receiver.

A few moments later Terry found that he was standing watching and
listening to a couple make love, while his lover held him in his arms
and they both sipped some excellent red wine. Soon the couple below
were naked and lying on the bed in what Marcel informed him was the
'missionary' position. About here Marcel's fingers began to work on
Terry's clothing.

When they had moved on to the doggy position Terry found that he was
once more naked in Marcel's arms and out of Terry's sight Marcel was
recovering the tube of KY from the tray. By the time they had
discovered that the girl was a moaner rather than a screamer, Terry
found that he had no less than three of Marcel's well-lubricated
fingers inside his ring. When Marcel took the glass from his hand and
set it safely on the dressing table before leading Terry to the bed,
the couple below had drifted off to sleep leaving the lights on.

Terry suddenly realised that he was now about to be fucked and he
wasn't sure that he was ready for it.  But Marcel was on top of him
and lying between his legs, making sure that he couldn't close them.
He was also muttering reassurances in Terry's ear. The wine was now
in his blood, his brain was spinning and his inhibitions quietly got
lost in the haze. This was the sodomy he had only read about and now
it was for real.

He was only vaguely aware that the penetration had started, as Marcel
had done an excellent job with his fingers. The whispering voice with
the seductive French accent told him to relax, and he obeyed. After
all, he reasoned, Marcel was older and wiser; surely he knew what he
was doing. Gradually he felt his rear end fill, he had an urge to go,
but that was impossible. He tried to push it out, but that just let
more come in. Finally, just as he was going to have to tell Marcel to
stop, he felt the curly dark hairs of the French boy's bush tickle
his buns. He relaxed totally with a great sigh of relief and his
lover took this excellent opportunity to ram the last inch or so of
his manhood home.

Terry lay gasping. He was truly spiked. Marcel's thick weapon was all
but splitting him apart. He couldn't move and Marcel's grip was
showing no sign of slackening. Then Marcel made his cock twitch. The
feeling that something, which was alive and inside him sent a strange
tingle through Terry's entire being. He suddenly realised that he
really was being fucked. Marcel was using him like the man below had
used his girl. He got a tremendous kick out of that, but he could not
for the life of him think why.

But now the period of grace that Marcel had granted him to get used
to his invasion was over. The thick French cock was slowly pulled
back out. Terry didn't know whether to cry out in anguish or relief.
The backward motion only ceased when the head of the organ was
widening his ring, then it reversed its direction. It did not re-
enter him with the same slow care, it thrust in with some force.
Terry felt his guts being moved to accommodate it.

Marcel, for his part, enjoyed fucking. While he did not deliberately
attempt to harm his partner, he didn't spoil his game by being unduly
careful either. He fucked vigorously and with a passion causing Terry
to wriggle around trying to find a more comfortable position. Of
course, fucking a partner who is wriggling is much more fun than
screwing someone who just lies there. Eventually when he felt his
orgasm get near, he thrust one hand under his captive and grabbed the
boy's cock.

In the middle of his sexual frenzy Terry felt a hand go round the
shaft of his aching erection and he knew that his moment had come. He
was going to die! Total sensory overload would be the cause; his
brain couldn't take any more. Then his cock exploded and his mind
went out to lunch. He was only vaguely aware that there was another
cock, which was inside him, was also shooting and filling his belly
with another man's seed.

Later, to his surprise, he discovered he had lived through the
experience, but only just. He was very weak and he could hardly move.
In his guts, the weapon that had ravished him, still twitched
slightly. Every time it did, his guts contracted of their own accord.
In his mind's eye he could see the last of Marcel's seed trickling
out of the eye of his cock and dripping into him. He had been used
sexually, to satisfy a man, and that, was infinitely more exciting
than any wank.

Marcel lay panting. Now came the tricky bit. He had had his wicked
way with the boy. Sure it had been good and he would like to have the
kid again. In fact if he played his cards correctly the next two
weeks should be fun. But, he had just fucked a virgin and given no
quarter. Now he would have to become the gentle lover once again and
win back the boy's trust. First thing was to get out of the kid. With
this in mind he began to pull back.

"No!" hissed Terry.

"What?"

"Leave it in me. I like the feeling of it in there."

"Did I hurt you?"

"Yes, a bit. It was wonderful."

"What?"

"You were fucking me and I couldn't stop you. In the end I had to
work to make you cum, as it was the only way that you would stop. It
was better than any roller coaster ride."

"And you liked being helpless?"

"Yes! Hold me tight but don't take it out!"

So, a puzzled Marcel held the boy tight and wondered what exactly he
had let himself in for. But his attention was quickly taken up by the
sound of footsteps on the stair. Beneath him Terry went rigid.

"Relax, it is only Paul going to bed," he whispered.

Alas, he was only partially right, it was Paul, but instead of going
to bed, he opened the door and entered the tiny room. He looked at
the pair, lying still coupled on the bed and sighed.

"Christ, it didn't take you long. How's our newlyweds getting on?" he
asked, in French, crossing to the window.

"They are having a nap. Don't you ever knock? We might have been
doing something," said Marcel in the same tongue.

As the conversation was beyond him, Terry lay under Marcel and
prayed.

"Shit, they are always sleeping by the time I get off," Paul said,
ignoring the question.

At this point he located the wine bottle and grabbed it. In a couple
of slugs he had drained it.

"Why don't you pinch two bottles, you've got the keys to the wine
cellar. You know that I can only get that rotgut we use for cooking,"
he said, and then burped.

"If you knew what I've got to do to get the occasional bottle, you'd
drink it with more care," snapped Marcel.

"Ach! That pair will sleep till morning. There'll be no more action
tonight," said Paul, with some disgust in his voice. "I'm tired and
I'm going to bed."

With that, he put down the bottle and opened the door. About half way
through he stopped and looked back at the petrified form of Terry. He
switched to English and said, "Was he tight?"

"Yes," growled Marcel.

"I'll bet he isn't now," said Paul, grinning in the dark as he closed
the door.

There was a long silence then Terry said, "He won't tell on us, will
he?"

Above him Marcel laughed quietly, making his soft cock move inside
the English boy, "No, he won't tell, but he will try to get you into
bed."

"Have you done it with him?" asked Terry.

"I've fucked him but he has never fucked me. Pity really, he prefers
to be on top. So he'll be trying to get you between him and the
mattress," warned Marcel.

Terry, who had only had a couple of quick glimpses of Paul, was
beginning to wish he had paid more attention to the young cook. This
fucking business was a Hell of a lot more fun than jacking off John
in the back of the school cloakroom. He wondered if Paul fucked the
same way as Marcel did.

Slowly, Marcel recovered his cock and rolled off the boy. There was
just enough room on the bed for them both to sleep. Fortunately the
night was warm enough for them to sleep naked on top of the bed.

Beneath them the Earth turned, and slowly the area, currently known
as France, spun back into the sunlight. As their bedroom was east
facing, and on the top floor, it was the first to be lit. This
wakened Marcel who consulted his watch and cursed silently, he was
already slightly late.

He disentangled himself from the sleeping boy and grabbed his clothes
before making a silent exit. It was the junior waiter's job to
prepare breakfast. He returned to his own bedroom and got dressed,
ready for work.

Eventually the sounds of Marcel clattering around in the kitchen
percolated through to the bedroom of the newlyweds. After a while it
disturbed the sleep of the new bride and she opened her eyes. The
glorious sight of her husband, lying naked on his back, with his
early morning erection pointing to the ceiling swam into focus. He
was obviously still asleep, so she reached down and with great care
took the shaft of his rigid member in her hand. Then she guided it
towards her mouth. Soon the slurping sounds of oral sex filled the
room.

Beneath the bridal bed the microphone on the baby alarm picked up the
sounds and relayed them to the receiver, and so the noise of a
blowjob in progress began to be heard in Terry's bedroom. About this
point in our narrative the young bride made two 'interesting'
discoveries. Discoveries, I might add, that many had made before her.
The first was the obvious danger of putting the business end of a
loaded weapon in your mouth. Particularly as the one in her mouth was
hair triggered, as it were. Thus this first discovery happened quite
quickly.

The second followed almost instantly as she tried to back off. Two
hands shot out and grabbed her head, locking it in place and blocking
any escape from her fate, until her new husband had complete his
orgasm. Which proved to her that, all men are bastards, including the
one that she had just wed.

The racket of the ensuing rumpus was faithfully reproduced in Terry's
room causing him to wake. He lay on the bed and got his head
together. Slowly the pieces fell into place and he remembered where
he was and what he had done. The noise of the squabble confused him
at first but in the end he remembered the baby alarm and he rolled
out of bed. Looking down on the couple, he wondered what had caused
the fight. He shrugged and switched off the receiver.

Marcel was gone, most likely back to his own room, so Terry set off
to the bathroom. He was naked, but he had been assured that no one
ever came up this far. Gingerly he sat on the toilet and disposed of
what Marcel had left in him the night before. It gave him a seriously
weird feeling as he did so. Then he wandered over to the shower and
started the water running. When it was running warm, he stepped in
and let the water flow over his body.

The sound of the running water must have covered the noise of bare
feet on the tiles, as the first thing that Terry knew was not alone
was, when two arms slid round his waist from the back and he was
pulled back against another naked body.

He assumed that the sound of the shower must have wakened Marcel. He
could feel a semi-hard cock being pressed into his buns. In hope of
another thrash he wriggled his buns against the cock. To his delight
he could feel it stiffen and grow. The fact that it was growing hard
for him, made his young heart beat faster. Two lips kissed the back
of his neck and one of the hands that was round his waist began to
play with his cock. He wriggled some more.

The other hand slipped between the two bodies and started to explore
his crack. The hand was removed; he heard spit being applied to it
and the now slippery hand returned, this time to enter him. The
delicious thought slipped through Terry's mind; he was about to be
sodomised for a second time.

"My, Marcel did a good job on you last night," said Paul's voice, in
his ear.

Terry froze. Then he tried to get away, but already there was a hard
cock slipping between his buns, seeking out his back passage. Paul
took Terry's wriggling to be a sign of encouragement and pressed on.
The head of the cock engaged on Terry's ring and all it needed was a
gentle shove and it was in. Marcel had indeed done an excellent job,
no matter how much the boy tried to stop it, the invading cock slid
relentlessly into him.

The explanation for this was really quite simple. Paul's manhood was
no match for Marcel's in girth. However when it came to length,
Paul's could reach depths Marcel could only dream of. Terry was now
in a quandary. He wanted to be fucked again, but by Marcel. Instead,
someone he had never really met, and only glanced at, was fucking
him. However none of these facts seemed to be slowing Paul down in
his quest to impale Terry. He kept a firm grip on the lad, whispered
reassurances in his ear, and slowly pushed his cock further and
further in.

"I don't think that I can take any more," pleaded Terry.

This comment only caused Paul to grip him tighter.

"They all say that, but you can take it, trust me," whispered Paul,
relentlessly forcing his manhood deeper into the lad.

Eventually when Terry was shaking with fear he finally felt Paul's
bush touch his buns. Unlike Marcel, Paul gave no period of grace
before the conquest; he went straight in for the kill. The night
before Terry had wondered if Paul did it differently, now he found
out. Paul fucked like a machine. He just pounded away until he
reached his orgasm. From Terry's side, it was as if he had sat on a
steam piston. His guts were churned up as the rod of manmeat plunged
in and out of him. Finally Paul almost squeezed the life out of him
as he shot his load. For the second time in his life Terry was filled
with another man's seed.

Terry could only hear Paul's ragged breathing, it was right in his
ear and it drowned out the sound of the shower. Eventually the young
cook caught his breath and said, "Now make yourself cum."

Obediently Terry jacked himself off. It took no time at all. Paul
helped by humping him as he wanked. Soon the tiles of the shower were
covered in teenage cum. Again the thought that, fucking knocked
mutual masturbation into a cocked hat, ran through Terry's mind.

Before Terry could say anything Paul pulled out and began washing,
first himself and then Terry. During this time Terry got his first
good look at Paul. He was slightly heavier than Marcel, the faintest
beginnings of a beer belly, but otherwise quite a nice looking body.

Paul watched the boy size him up and smiled saying, "You are too
skinny. You need more meat on your bones. Come into the kitchen
sometime and we'll feed you up."

Terry smiled and got on with showering. Later he got back to his room
and casually looked down on the couple below. The fight was obviously
over as the man was lying on his back with the girl straddling him.
It was clear, from the way she was bouncing up and down, that they
were on the job. The position they were in, caught Terry's
imagination and he wondered if two boys could manage the same thing.

About 8:30 he went down to his parents room and from there proceeded
to breakfast. In a French hotel this is a strange meal. Usually there
is just one waiter on hand, Marcel. However he was not dressed in a
white jacket as he had appeared at lunch, nor in the penguin suit,
which he had worn at dinner, at breakfast a white T-shirt and jeans
sufficed. Nor for that matter did he serve the guests. His job was to
clear the tables and make sure that the buffet remained well stocked.
The guests helped themselves from the buffet, to the cereals, bread,
jam, cold meat, hard-boiled eggs and endless pots of coffee.

Over breakfast his parents discussed their plans for the day. Not too
far away was a magnificent cathedral and they both planned to spend
the entire day painting it. The hotel would be happy to supply them
with a picnic lunch so that they could work right through.

Now watching his parents paint held no novelty for Terry.
Doubtlessly, given time, he could have worked out a more boring
occupation, but even just discussing it made his eyes glaze over. In
the end he agreed that a day by the pool would be a much better
option and got the pair of them to go along with the idea. No need to
worry about lunch, he would eat in the hotel.

The meal over, his parents returned to their room to get their things
and then set off in the car. Terry returned to his room, with a view
to getting his swimming gear, when he ran into Paul.

Dressed in his white coat and blue and white checked pants, Paul
looked quite smart. He grinned at Terry as he grabbed the boy and
groped him.

"Want to come and see round the kitchen before the Chef comes in?" he
asked, fondling Terry's buns.

Having no real plans for the morning, Terry agreed. Now if Terry were
to tell the truth, he would have had to admit that he found the
kitchen quite interesting, well it definitely had the edge on your
average cathedral. He was just being shown the cold table, where most
of the food that does not require cooking, is prepared and where Paul
seemed to be in charge, when a great voice boomed, "Bon Jour!"

Everyone turned and Paul muttered, "Merde!"

Entering the kitchen still tying his apron on and wearing the large
white hat was most obviously the Chef. Everyone chorused a reply to
his greeting and tried to look busy as he went into the tiny office,
right next to the door. There was now no way for Terry to escape.
Paul shoved a pile of carrots in front of Terry and stuck a knife in
his hand. Then he disappeared to return with a white coat and an
apron, which Terry was hastened into.

The poor boy got about a 30 second lesson in carrot cutting before
the Chef emerged from the office and the preparation of lunch began.
During the course of the morning Terry learned that, in the kitchen,
the Chef was king. Actually by the time lunch was being served Terry
was quite convinced he was God! No one dared speak back to him. No
excuses were permitted. No slacking. In fact nothing but perfection
was allowed.

At first, the kitchen seemed to be about as organised as a Parisian
traffic jam. But after a while Terry noticed that everything was
meshing together. Things came ready just as they were needed and
underneath the apparent chaos a strict timetable was being observed.
The Chef seemed to be everywhere at the same time. The only thing
that you could be sure of was, when you made a mistake, he was
standing right behind you.

Somewhere in the course of the morning the Chef sort of became aware
that there was a supernumerary in his domain and the fact that the
boy was English. This only really made one difference; he referred to
Terry as 'Rosbeef' while everyone else was called either 'Idiot' or
'Cretin'. Paul seemed to come in for more criticism than anyone else,
Terry noticed.

Suddenly, like an orchestra reaching a crescendo, it was lunchtime
and orders began to arrive and dishes served. If Terry had thought
that it was busy before, he now realised just how crazy a kitchen can
get.

Twice, during the serving of lunch the Chef exploded. In each case it
was when he was dragged out to work the American Express machine.
During one of these two lulls while he was out of the kitchen Paul
explained to Terry what the problem was.

It appears that Amex issued a book showing all the establishments
that accepted their card. The Chef was convinced this brought in
business and, in turn, advertised his prowess as a Chef. For him the
Michelin Guide lured. The owner on the other hand thought that the 5%
commission charged by Amex was outrageously high compared with the
other credit cards and would have nothing to do with it. So, only the
Chef had learned how to work the little computerised machine that
validated the Amex cards and the manual provided was in English.

Suddenly the serving of lunch was over. The long table, that had held
the dishes until the waiters collected them, was cleared and set for
the staff lunch. Food was piled on it and everyone sat down to eat.
To Terry's total amazement the Chef suddenly transformed from an evil
tyrant into a genial, fat host, who ladled out piled plates of food
to everyone. A couple of bottles of wine appeared and even Terry got
a glass. Fortunately it was during the meal that the Chef discovered
that he did not have the new kitchen hand he had been asking for, but
rather an intruder in his kitchen. However by this time he seemed to
have a soft spot for Terry and announced that the boy could come into
the kitchen, except during the serving of dinner, provided he was
properly dressed.

This caused a sudden silence and then quite a bit of whispering.
Later, while they were lying round the pool during their afternoon
break Marcel explained the great honour that had been bestowed on
Terry. No one was allowed in the kitchen, even the owner of the
hotel. He had to stand at the door and attract the Chef's attention
before he dare set foot in the room.

At four Terry, now dressed in the white coat and checked pants of an
apprentice cook, joined Paul in the preparation of dinner. Terry was
beginning to enjoy the work. True it was more of a physical effort
than a mental one. Oh, there was some brainwork required, but not the
academic sort that Terry did not excel at. So by the time the
restaurant opened at seven and he was told to leave, he was slightly
disappointed to have to go, just as the real fun was about to start.

His parents returned and were confused by the fact that their son had
had a most fulfilling day working in the kitchen. At table they took
his advice on what to order and were pleasantly surprised with the
results. About halfway through the meal Terry went to the toilet. On
the way there he was treated to the now familiar sound of the Chef
blowing his top. When he came out of the loo he saw the Chef doing
battle with the Amex machine and decided to watch. Alas, he did not
do this from a safe distance and the Chef saw him.

"Ah Rosbeef!" he cried, "come 'elp me with this machine."

Now Terry, like most teenagers, had quite good computer skills. After
a few moments he had figured out most of the workings of the machine.
The main problem was it had a small LCD screen and it had been
programmed in English, using a lot of abbreviations. So for a native
English speaker it was quite straight forwards, but for the poor
Chef, it was a nightmare.

When it was obvious that Terry had operated the machine correctly the
Chef beamed at him, then grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him
firmly on both cheeks. Thus it was a very red face Terry who returned
to the family table.

Twice, during the remainder of the meal, Terry was discreetly
summoned by Marcel to work the Amex machine again. His parents were
quite surprised when a bottle of desert wine arrived with their sweet
course, compliments of the Chef. So Terry had to give in and tell
them he had earned it. Thus he got a glass of it and found out that
he hated sweet wine.

After dinner Terry retired to his room and waited for his pals to
come off duty. It was very boring, as the couple had pulled the shade
on the roof light, so there was nothing to watch. In the end he fell
asleep on top of his bed.

Sometime later he awoke and knew that there was someone in the room
with him. In the gloom he could make out the figure of a naked male,
who was standing over him and rather menacingly jacking himself off.
Terry then realised that the figure was Marcel and he sat up in bed.
Marcel moved closer and fed the boy his erection. Terry opened his
mouth and accepted the gift. Then Marcel quietly began to instruct
the boy in the skill of sucking cock. Terry, who was eager to please
his friend, made a good student.

A little later, when Paul arrived, Marcel was having a bit of a job
controlling himself. Paul solved this problem by opening his pants
and producing a second erection for Terry to practice his new found
skills on.

Marcel was now free to strip the lad as he worked on Paul. Removing
Paul's clothes was quite easy, but getting them both on to the bed
was a little more difficult however Marcel achieved it. So Paul lay
on his back with Terry on his hands and knees on top of him sucking
his cock. This of course left the lad in a perfect position to be
taken doggy style by Marcel.

Within seconds Marcel was fingering the lubricant into the boy and
greasing up his own pole at the same time. Then he got back to the
job of stretching the lad's ass with his manhood. Terry found the
concept of a cock in each end of him to be quite exciting. It got
even more interesting when the two French boys synchronised their
efforts at fucking him. The two cocks entered and left him in unison
and Terry suddenly realised that Paul would not be taking him from
the rear that night as his mouth began to fill with Paul's jism. The
sound of the boy swallowing Paul's load was the trigger that fired
Marcel's cock in the other end of him. Terry had more cum than he
knew what to do with. Marcel's wet hand reached round and provided
the coup de grace, shooting Terry's load all over Paul.

That night Marcel went to his own room while Paul and Terry shared a
bed. So Terry spent a second night in a Frenchman's arms, he was
beginning to get to enjoy having a man in his bed at night.

The next morning he was awakened by the sounds of Marcel getting up
to start breakfast. He looked around and Paul's early morning
erection caught his eye. Like the young bride, he too found it
irresistible. Carefully he resumed the job he had been doing the
night before and got his mouth round the head of it. He was just
trying to find out how much of it he could get into his mouth without
choking when Paul returned to the land of the living. The older boy
rolled onto his back and Terry got between his legs and carried on.

Then the memory of the morning before came back to him. He took his
mouth off Paul's manhood and looked calculatingly at the glistening
pole. Then he straddled Paul's waist and lowered himself down onto
the erect organ. He felt the head push his buns apart and touch his
ring. He deliberately pushed himself down onto the rampant French
cock. His rather battered bum put up no resistance at all as the head
slipped through.

Terry now let go his grip on the shaft and let gravity take over.
Slowly Paul's manhood slipped from view as it entered the boy. Paul
lay back and smiled happily. This was the lazy man's way to do it.
All he had to do was lie there and provide a stiff cock for the boy
to roger himself on. He did not have long to wait either as Terry was
soon bouncing up and down on Paul's cock.

Paul held back as long as he could, then he grabbed Terry's hips and
held the boy steady. Now Paul's hips began to move as he took over
and finished the job. His long member rammed in and out of the boy
but briefly before it plunged home gushing seed deep into the lad's
innards. Terry was now getting a bizarre feeling of satisfaction
every time he felt a cock erupt within his guts. It was as though he
had achieved something. Perhaps it came from the fact that both of
the French boys were bigger and older than him, yet he had satisfied
them. So, it took Paul a full twenty minutes of pleading before Terry
would let him have his cock back.

Again his parents went off in the car for a day's painting while
Terry returned to working in the kitchen. Now the Chef had taken a
shine to him and several times stopped by to show Terry how things
should be done. The one thing that terrified Terry at first was the
sharpness of all the knives. Even the meat cleavers could have been
used by a grizzly old lumberjack to shave with. But as the Chef was
quick to point out to Terry, blunt knives cause more injuries than
sharp ones.

At lunchtime Terry was the one called to work the Amex machine, and
each time the Chef beamed at him.

That evening he was once again used by the French boys to slake their
sexual thirsts and he enjoyed every minute of it.

He slipped into the routine effortlessly. He found working in the
kitchen to be an interesting life as each day he learned something
new. He also found that he could drive both Marcel and Paul mad with
lust, just by wiggling his ass at them. Of course when work was over,
he would have to pay for his sins, when they got him alone in his
bedroom. There he was their sexual toy and it was his joyful task to
keep their balls empty.

On Sunday the whole routine changed. Dinner, normally the main event
of the day, was all but ignored. Only the most basic menu was
provided. Everything went into Sunday Lunch. This was a gastronomic
blowout, which started just after twelve and lasted until well after
four in the afternoon. The kitchen was a madhouse from early in the
morning and by the time evening came all three boys were fit only for
sleep. So, for the first night since he arrived at the hotel, Terry's
butt did not get abused by French cocks.

The newlyweds had left the hotel but Marcel said that there was an
American couple arriving on the Monday. This proved to be quite true,
but somehow they didn't exactly come across as newlyweds. The girl
was short, a bit dumpy, with big breasts, brassy blond hair,
eyelashes slightly longer then her skirt and buttocks that could have
cracked walnuts. She was, even for an American, rather loud and as
Terry's mother described her, 'quite common'.

The man was startlingly different. First, he was a Negro. Not one of
the very black ones, more of a milk chocolate colour. While he was
reasonably good looking, with a fairly muscular body he could not
have been called desperately handsome. However he was sexy. He just
oozed testosterone from his pores and he turned almost every female
head in the hotel. Naturally, Terry was totally fascinated by him.

That evening the three boys were in Terry's room hoping to see him
perform. They were not disappointed either and the couple gave them
quite a show. The girl was no blushing virgin bride on her wedding
night. She knew exactly what she wanted and her partner was most
willing to supply it. The only fly in the ointment was when he tried
to take her anally. He was informed in no uncertain terms that his
big nigger cock was not getting into her ass. When he persisted in
his quest she came out with the line, which confused all three who
were listening upstairs on the baby phone. "If you want to stick it
up someone's ass, go get one of your boyfriends."

There was much speculation as to her meaning that evening while Terry
got his fair share of cock up his ass.

The next day, during the afternoon break, Terry noticed the man,
whose name they had discovered was Mike, lying by the pool. The lad
shot up to his room, put on his Speedos and descended to have a
closer look at him. Although Mike was wearing boxer shorts, he could
still make them bulge slightly at the front. This bulge interested
Terry as none of them had really gotten a good look at his equipment
the night before. To Terry's delight the bulge increased slightly
when he sat next to Mike.

Using the techniques he had developed in the kitchen to turn on the
French boys Terry soon made the bulge so large that Mike had to roll
over on his stomach to conceal it. Now the game began as Terry, quite
shamelessly, tried to arouse Mike. There had been a few other people
there when the contest started but as the sun was quite hot, they
drifted off until there were just the two players.

Without any warning Mike spoke, "Say kid, why don't you come to my
room? I think that I've got something you'd like to see."

Without waiting for an answer Mike got up and walked off into the
hotel. After a pause, Terry followed him. Mike left his door slightly
open and Terry slipped in closing the door behind him. There he found
the Negro standing in the middle of the room waiting for him. Terry
suddenly felt afraid, Mike was much bigger than him and he regretted
closing the door. Without a word Mike pulled down his boxers and
stepped out of them. Sprouting from his groin was his manhood in all
its virile glory.

Now, I doubt if anyone's cock and balls could be described as
beautiful, some are cute, some ugly, others functional, Mike's could
best be described as, 'industrial strength'. It was also much darker
than the rest of Mike's body, black rather than brown. The shaft was
a good bit longer than Paul's and the girth easily exceed that of
Marcel's. The balls were quite large, but they did not hang low, they
were drawn up tightly against the base of the shaft, testifying to
the sexual arousal of their owner. Unconsciously Terry licked his
lips.

"Can I touch it?" he heard himself ask.

"Sure."

Terry reached out with his hand only to have it roughly knocked away
by Mike.

"Yeah, you can touch it all right. But only with your mouth," said
Mike, with an evil grin.

Terry didn't care, he could now smell the man's erection and that was
overwhelming any shreds of dignity that remained with him. He sank to
his knees before Mike and let the man guide the head of his cock
towards his open lips.

As Mike was circumcised and the glans had been desensitised over the
years of touching his underwear, Terry had to use all the wiles that
Marcel and Paul had taught him to satisfy the man. Initially Terry
got the head and a bit of the shaft into his mouth. But as he worked
on it he could feel the blood being pumped into it, making it enlarge
until only the glans fitted in. The ban on touching it with his hands
seemed to have been lifted as he found that Mike was quite happy to
let him fondle those big balls.

Eventually Mike gently pulled Terry's head off his cock and said,
"OK, normally about here I'd just blast your tonsils and let you go.
That would teach you not to turn men on like you did. But I've been
hankering after a bit of butt fucking for a couple of days, and
you're going to supply it."

Terry's heart missed a beat; he glanced up at Mike's face and saw
that he was serious.

"But what about your wife?" he asked.

"May-Anne? She ain't my wife she's my employer."

"Huh?" was all that Terry could utter.

"She won the state lottery. I work in porn films. So she hired me to
go with her for two weeks in France and screw her."

"Oh," muttered Terry, trying to think of an exit line while noting
the fact that Mike was between him and the door.

"I usually work with boys and girls but for a whole week I've been
ploughing her furrow and I'm tired of it. Today she is off on a coach
trip, thank God. So if the bitch won't roll over, you're gonna have
to."

"I've never done it..." lied Terry.

But before he could complete the sentence Mike pulled him to his feet
and slipped a hand down the back of his Speedos. There was little or
no resistance to the finger when it pressed on his ring. Mike got it
right up inside him before he could even cry out.

"You lying little fucker," said Mike, pulling the Speedos from the
boy's body.

This released his erection, which promptly sprung to attention.

"Yeah," said Mike, pointing to his condition, "and I suppose that the
idea of getting fucked doesn't turn you on either."

Keeping a grip on Terry's wrist Mike now hunted in one of the bedside
cabinets until he came up with some lubricant. Terry used the time to
glance upwards through the roof light. Dimly, up in the eves of the
building he could just see two faces, looking down. His friends would
witness his degradation. This thought made a delightful shudder run
through him.

Mike sat on the edge of the bed and bent the boy over his lap. With a
skilled hand he applied the lubricant and fingered the boy open as he
did so. Terry whined in protest until Mike silenced him with a heavy
slap across his buns.

"Look kid, you played the cock tease by the pool. You got your kicks
outa getting me all horny. Now you're gonna pay for it," Mike said,
managing to get four fingers through Terry's ring.

Mike then held the boy firmly while he greased his own weapon. What
followed could best be described as a very one-sided wrestling match.
Terry was small and lithe, allowing him to wriggle out of Mike's
greasy grasp, and running on pure adrenaline. While Mike was larger
and very much stronger as well as being testosterone fuelled. At
first Terry did seem to be putting up a sterling defence, this was an
illusion. Mike was playing cat-and-mouse with him. Letting him think
that he was escaping, only to catch him again. Soon, Terry's energy
reserves began to run out and Mike's little game became more and more
obvious.

Suddenly Terry could feel Mike's cock push between his buns.
Desperately he tried to squirm enough to put Mike's aim off, but he
was being held too firmly for that. Now Mike quite relentlessly
pushed his point home and Terry's ass was once again being opened to
accept a man. This time there was a lot more man to accept than on
the many pervious occasions. Desperately the boy tried to relax and
submit to the invading cock. Mike, to be honest, gave him every
opportunity to take him without pain. Gradually the now compliant
boy's ass was filled with cock. Stuffed well beyond what he had
previously considered its limit. Then he felt the heavenly touch of
Mike's bush against his buns, all of that might weapon was inside him
at last.

"Ever been fucked by a black guy before?" Mike asked.

Terry shook his head.

"Well, you'll never forget this afternoon, as long as you live!"
promised Mike. "Now be a honey and just go with the flow."

With that Terry was rolled onto his face with Mike's whole body
weight pinning him to the bed. His legs were forced wide apart
allowing Mike full access to his ass. Then Mike released his grip.
Terry instantly pulled himself up the bed and off Mike's cock. He
almost made it, just the head was inside when he was grabbed and
forced down the bed again, to be impaled once more. The game of cat-
and-mouse had restarted!

Time and again Terry almost got the invader out of his body, but
every time he was grasped and hauled back on to it. Then Mike decided
that the fun was over and it was time for the real sex to start.
Terry found that he was now firmly pinned to the bed by Mike pressing
down on his shoulders while the cock in his ass turned into a pile
driver.

Terry was still desperately trying to fight back, to hold on to some
last shreds of his budding masculinity, but Mike was having none of
it.

"Come on baby, let go, you'll love it, I promise you. Don't fight it!
Go with it!"

Over and over Mike poured the words into Terry's ear as his manhood
rammed in and out of the boy's guts. Gradually Terry lost this fight
too. He no longer resisted Mike's invasion, not even mentally. The
Negro had achieved what the two French boy's had not, the total
domination of the boy.

Mike instantly sensed Terry's last lines of defence crumbling and
whispered in his ear, "That's the way baby. Just trust daddy. I'll
take you there."

The impossible now happened, Mike increased his efforts and, although
he was not touching his cock, Terry felt his orgasm start. Above him
the man grinned as he felt the spasms wrack the young body he was
fucking. He liked to drive guys beyond their limits. Now he could cum
himself.

Terry's ass was so numb from the pounding that he could barely feel
the cock erupt deep in his guts. Eventually he just lay there,
totally exhausted, with Mike's manhood dribbling out the last of his
seed, while it quietly went back to its normal size.

Mike was in no rush to pull out, he just lay on the conquered boy and
caught his breath. Shit, he was being paid $1,000 a day to screw that
bitch, and the kid under him had just had a session, the likes of
which, she would never get. Still, he had a few days left; maybe he
could corner the kid again.

Ten minutes later Terry, all cleaned up, was being shown out the door
and assured that if he ever wanted a return match, Mike would be most
willing. It took Terry an age to climb the stairs in his exhausted
and dazed condition. He had discovered what he had been failing to
do. All it needed was for him to give in totally to the other guy.

The round of applause that he received from Marcel and Paul when he
entered his room made him smile. Fortunately the two boys decided
that he had probably had enough for the moment and let him rest
before dinner. Alas, come bedtime they watched the couple below. Mike
put up a manful performance and it made the two French boys hot, so
they decided to use Terry again. Terry didn't mind, he just relaxed
and let them take over his body completely and all three were
satisfied with the encounter. The next day Terry did a lot more
standing than sitting.

Two days later Terry was having dinner with his parents in the
restaurant and sitting at a nearby table was Mike and May-Anne. Terry
nearly died when he realised that Mike was signalling to him. Then he
got the message, excused himself and headed for the toilet.

Fortunately the room was empty when he entered and he stood for a
moment, wondering what to do. Mike followed him in and thrust him
into one of the cubicles. The boy found himself sitting looking at
Mike at crotch level. Without any explanation Mike opened his zipper
and pulled out a semi erect cock. This he worked on for a few seconds
until it was totally erect. He now held it out to Terry.

Terry automatically took the proffered weapon into his mouth and
began to work on the head, while Mike's hand ran up and down the
shaft. Terry felt Mike's free hand grab his head and knew that the
man was about to shoot his wad. Then he had a mouthful of thick man
cum. As quickly as he could he swallowed as Mike refilled his mouth
for him. Gradually the shots diminished in quantity until Terry was
reduced to sucking the dregs out.

"The bitch is going on another coach trip tomorrow. So if you want
another good fucking come round to my room," said Mike, as he
recovered his weapon from the boy's mouth.

Terry sat open mouthed not knowing what to say.

"Your two friends can come too, they don't need to watch from the
window," said Mike.

Terry's heart missed a beat.

"Be there!" Mike ordered, as he zipped himself up and exited. Terry
sat for a few more minutes, then cleaned his face and returned to his
table. For the rest of the meal he was very silent. In his belly was
Mike's seed and at the other table Mike kept grinning at him while
licking his lips.

Terry was now on the horns of a dilemma. The thought of having sex
with Mike again both excited and terrified him. He could not imagine
what it would be like with the other pair present; Mike on his own
was bad enough. Of one thing he was certain, Mike would take total
control of him and he would be completely humiliated before the
French boys.

That evening he told them of Mike's wishes and the idea excited the
pair, so much that poor Terry's butt got well used before anyone got
any sleep.

The next morning Terry was like a flea at a flitting, all nervous and
jumpy. The trio finished lunch and drifted singly around to the
bridal suite where they slipped in unnoticed. Mike was sitting in an
armchair, a drink in his hand, waiting. Terry was reminded of a
spider, sitting quietly in the corner of his web, and the boy had the
dreadful feeling that his role was to be that of the fly.

However Mike just finished his drink, got up, locked the door and
said to Terry, "OK, get naked."

Without thinking Terry began to strip off his T-shirt and jeans. The
other three watched until the boy stood stripped before them. Then
Mike gestured for him to turn round, slowly the boy spun before them.

"Right," said the Negro, "one bitch to satisfy three of us. Bend
over, you're going to have your work cut out for you today."

Compliantly Terry bent over and Mike produced a can of Crisco. While
the two French boys watched in silence the Negro began to work on
Terry's ring. He slowly reshaped the boy's ass, getting finger after
finger into it. Eventually he had the palm of his hand inside the
boy.

"So far, so good," Mike said, "but for this afternoon's exercise our
bitch will have to be able to take a bit more than that."

Terry shivered with fear and his two pals watched, fascinated as the
Negro pulled his hand back out of the boy. He then folded his thumb
against his fingers and wrapped them round it before reinsertion.

"Right! Now you see it..." said Mike, as he pushed forward with his
hand.

Terry screamed once as the third joints of the fingers passed through
his ring. Then, to his amazement Terry realised that Mike's whole
hand was inside him. Marcel and Paul uttered expressions of disbelief
as they saw the boy's ring clutching the brown wrist.

"...and now you don't," Mike concluded.

Terry moaned slightly as Mike moved his fingers deep inside his guts.
He was now well beyond fear, he knew that his life was literally in
Mike's hands. He had never felt so vulnerable before. Slowly the
fingers inside him balled into a fist and this began to move up and
down inside his guts. The feeling went well beyond his ability to
describe it.

Mike ordered the other two to strip and they complied without ever
taking their eyes off what was happening to the English boy's ass.
Mike looked them both over and then ordered Marcel to lie on the bed
face up. With great care the Negro now recovered his hand from
Terry's back passage, causing the boy only to wince during the
withdrawal. He then used the same hand to grease up Marcel's manhood.

At Mike's command Terry straddled Marcel and lowered himself onto the
French boy's rampant member. It entered him without any problem at
all. But before Terry could get comfortable he was bent forwards
until he was face to face with Marcel. This left his rear end, filled
with French cock, exposed.

Paul's weapon was now lubricated by Mike and guided towards Terry's
already stuffed hole. To Paul's amazement, it too slipped into the
English boy. While the two Frenchmen took stock of what was happening
and Terry got used to the idea of having not one cock but two in him,
Mike slipped out of his clothes and went round to the other end.
There he slipped his limp cock into the boy's unresisting mouth.

"OK kid, use your mouth to get me hard while the other pair slacken
you off at the back so that you can take me properly," Mike said.

Marcel and Paul began to screw the boy. As this time their
synchronisation was less than perfect Terry was treated to the
sensation of cocks going in and out of his ass simultaneously while
he did a number on the cock that filled his mouth. Again he could
hear the blood being pumped into the cock in his mouth and it grew
longer and thicker as he worked on it. Mike seemed to be in no rush
and let Terry really go to town on his weapon.

He also watched with some cynical satisfaction as the other two
slowly began to lose their reservations and really get into fucking
the boy. To help things along Mike reached out and grabbed Paul's
head, holding it firmly while he kissed the Frenchman. To his delight
he caused Paul to shoot his load.

The feeling of being inside a fairly tight space in which another
cock is discharging cum was an unusual one for Marcel and the extra
stimulation soon did the trick and Terry got a second load shot into
him. Slowly the French pair stopped and Mike pulled back. The moment
the two cocks left his body Terry was repositioned and taken doggy
style by Mike.

The large black weapon was in no way impeded as it entered the boy.
Terry was both physically and mentally defeated. Anyone with a hard
cock could have fucked him and he would have made no move to stop
them. He lovingly accepted the entry of the large member and made no
protest when it began to brutally take him. Soon, very soon, he would
have a third load of man seed in his belly and that was all that
mattered. Blindly he reached out and his hand found a wilting cock.
He guided it to his mouth and sucked the last few drops from it
without ever noticing whose cock it was. Then he had his reward as
Mike shot his bolt deep inside his belly.

Terry slowly fell forwards until he was lying on his face and Mike
followed him down, staying inside the lad. The English boy was now on
a level of ecstasy that he had never dreamed existed before. The
massive weapon that had just debauched him was still in his guts. But
now it was defeated and he could feel it gently shrinking inside him.
He must have drifted off to sleep at that point because he had no
recollection of Mike recovering his member.

He vaguely remembered the other pair helping him upstairs and putting
him to bed in his room. Then suddenly it was time for him to be back
in the kitchen. The poor boy did not fully recover until the next
morning.

But now Terry's time in France was coming to a close, soon he would
have to return to England with his parents and spend the rest of his
summer holidays without the attentions of Marcel and Paul. However,
just as the gloom was setting in the Chef took him aside and they had
a long talk.

That evening at dinner his parents were not handed a menu as they sat
down to dine, instead they were informed that their meal was coming
with the Chef's compliments. It proved to be a gastronomic
extravaganza of no less than seven courses, and during it all, the
wine flowed freely.

So when the Chef emerged from the kitchen Terry's parents were in a
most receptive mood. His proposition was an interesting one. Their
son was showing a natural aptitude in the kitchen and the Chef was
interested in offering him an apprenticeship beginning next summer
when he was due to finish his schooling. In fact the Chef was so keen
to have him on board that he was willing to offer him a summer job
for the rest of his school holidays.

What with the food, wine, Terry's enthusiasm and the Chef's keenness
to have their lad, the pair agreed to let him stay at least until the
end of the summer.

Come Christmas Terry retuned to work through his holiday again. His
only disappointment came when he discovered that Paul had left the
hotel. It appeared that he had had just one too many arguments with
the Chef. So the poor lad had only Marcel available to work off
several months' worth of sexual frustrations.

Now, those of you who followed the delightful scandal of the
Inverbeath Adventure Training Camp for Boys through the courts, will
have now realised that all of this happened a few years back. Terry
is now halfway through his apprenticeship while Marcel has finished
his and is now a full waiter. Together they save every cent they earn
and plan to open their own establishment sometime in the future.

The End

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