Crossing the Atlantic
My one goal before I came to France was really to get laid here. I really couldn’t ignore that conquest.
(My goal once I got here was to drink more water and break my habit of soda.)
Well, I have zero skills when it comes to picking up (or being picked up) in bars, so I took the easy way out- Adult Friend Finder. It’s been my friend for many years now.
And it even works in France!
I put up an ad as soon as I got here because I know these things can take time. I had to wait for someone cute to e-mail me and then it’s always the back and forth. And I don’t think everyone even read my profile because I got countless e-mails in French. Hello- no parle francais! (Yes, I know.)
But anyways, Pierre e-mailed me last week and I guess I just glanced over it without much notice, but for some reason took notice this weekend when he e-mailed again. He offered to show me around the town on his scooter. That sounded fun (if not death defying!).
So I e-mailed him back and we quickly made plans for yesterday.
I was to meet him at a near by square in the evening and he would be with his black and silver scooter. Easy enough, right?
Wrong!
I got to the square a little early because it’s only like a 5 minute walk, if that, but I had a lot of nervous energy, so I just went to go early. Well, after a few minutes I noticed someone on the other side of the square with a (big) black and silver scooter (I suppose it was closer to a motorcycle) and he was clearly waiting for someone. I couldn’t see the face from far away, so I got up and started walking towards him and when I got closer I saw that it was a much older man than who I was meeting (Pierre was only 35).
It couldn’t be him.
I didn’t want it to be him!
But for a good 20 minutes I was convinced he was my date. How much could I really tell about someone’s looks from a tiny picture on the computer?? And people lie…
I was so convinced I started to walk away but was stopped just in time by the real Pierre!
Who was a 35 year old boy. No lie. (I always seem to like the older guys with boyish qualities about them.) He was cute though- tan skin, brown hair, big round brown eyes.
After brief introductions, we decided on an itinerary for the night. I hadn’t seen Villefranche yet, so we would go there.
But first, a beautiful look out point.
By way of scooter! He handed me his extra helmet, and my only request was that he not drive too much like a French person. (In hindsight, going on the scooter together is a good way to get physically close very quickly!)
And the look out point- my God was it stunning, looking over the Baie des Anges (Bay of Angels) and all of Nice. And from what I could tell when we weren’t making out, it would be a great place to take pictures!
Making out at a beautiful look out point- now that’s the kind of memories study abroad trips are made of!
Our plans for the evening changed as things started to get a little hot and heavy. We decided to go to his place and order pizza in. (Hey, a free meal is a free meal. Have you seen the conversion rate???!!!!)
It was about a 20 minute ride to his place as he was in the newer part of Nice. He had a small little apartment- very French.
Once the pizza was ordered, the action started.
Score 1 for the French on foreplay! It’s been a long time since I was kissed and stroked all over before the actual disrobing (or even once disrobed for that matter).
And then after all the sweet kissing and slow removal of my clothing- he went down on me. That’s right! You read it here folks! (Sorry, I’m writing this before going out and I “pre-gamed” a bit (it’s too expensive to drink out otherwise!)).
It wasn’t too shabby. He fingered me too. Licked my ass a bit. Even stuck a finger up there (I do hate having fingers up my butt though for some reason).
And then- the sex.
All 5-8 minutes of it?
*Sigh*
And he had such a beautiful cock too.
Well the pizza came and *sigh* it was neither Italian nor NY quality. Oh well.
We watched a bit of French TV.
And then round 2.
And round 3.
Really, he gets a gold star for effort.
The cuddling was nice though. He was very much a sweet guy.
And I’m hoping soon I won’t think about Jefferson during sex anymore. That would be quite nice. *Headdesk* (I just have to remind myself how the quality of our sex life seriously (and I mean seriously) diminished this winter…)
I hope this is semi-coherent. I shall reread it tomorrow.
But for now, I have some celebrating to do. And some firemen to make out with. And God I’d love to get in another fuck.
I know, I’m such a slut.
But duh, you all knew that.
Tags: AFF, ass licking, Bastille Day, fingering, firemen, fireworks, French sex, Jefferson, oral sex, sex, sex blog
All Things Sex, France | 
Avah | July 14, 2008
By CS, July 14, 2008 @ 9:55 pm
Congratulations on the hook up. The whole scooter thing around Europe is rather Stereotypical.
By Cody, July 14, 2008 @ 10:21 pm
What I don’t understand is why most guys don’t last longer. 5-8 minutes is NOT sex. On a good night, my ex would last for 10. Greeeeaat.
Also– what’s with the tablecloths? I’ve been dying to ask. Of all things– why?!
By Donald, July 14, 2008 @ 11:15 pm
When he went down on you, were you smooth? Did he try shaving you? (That can be so hot!) Did he fuck your ass? You didn’t say if he let you fuck him with a strap-on. (Just asking…)
By Avah, July 15, 2008 @ 5:03 am
@CS It was fun though! I’d love a scooter myself now. A pink one! I’d finally manage to find some decent parking in NYC if I had a scooter!
@Cody- there’s really no reason for the tablecloths. The last time I was in Nice my mom got a bunch of tablecloths and they were so beautiful I wanted my own (now that I’m soon going to be living on my own). And yeah- it’s just not sex. (And I was being generous with 5-8 minutes, because it felt a whole lot shorter.
@Donald If any of those things had happened don’t you think I would have written it?