Life, Love, Sex

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.