I was growing restless. I had been in Europe for two months on my yearlong study abroad program and nothing had happened for me. All my nights going out and experiencing different bars, clubs and parties and not one guy had taken interest in me. My frustrations were mounting; the gay scene in Paris wasn’t like it was in the United States. Since my last two relationships, being involved with other guys had been easy. You would show an interest, talk, maybe date, or if you were lucky you would just go home with each other.

Here it was different. All men traveled in packs more exclusive than the last. To be considered to talk to a guy or spend an evening with him you first had to meet the approval of his friends whose gazes grew more and more icy as you followed their perfectly combed heads around their table.

If you were desperate enough, you could find a greasy guy holed up at a lone bar table eyeing every person around; he would be more than happy to take you home and use you as the body you are, not the person. I grew to admire this brittle French system that annoyed me so much, men being highly selective instead of easy; it generally meant they knew what they wanted and were not so flakey after they found it, a trend that men in the United States had yet to pick up on.

I sat in my cramped studio apartment on a breezy day in early September pondering why it was so hard for me to get in with any social circles in this city. People had told me that it was just France, the culture is not so accepting to outsiders, regardless of nationality, but once you were in, they were the people you would want behind you when you were walking into battle. I began to think it was something else, that it was the city. The hectic day-to-day life and the cramped atmosphere made me feel as if it were difficult to fit in because I just could not relate. I decided to book a weekend getaway to Nice.

Southern France; the land where the waters of the Mediterranean are crystal blue and the buildings different shades of yellow, red and orange. I could not think of a better way to spend a weekend away from the city; wandering through narrow alleyway streets, lounging on the beach, or drinking wine in an open square.

When I finally got to Nice, the weather and atmosphere was just as I had expected, warm and fresh. The people were calmer; the streets less crowded, and there were more smiles in one café than I had seen in two months. I walked to the hostel with just my backpack and checked in. The young woman at the counter explained to me that I had a bunk in a six person mixed dorm, and that there was a room to get WiFi and mingle if I wanted. I went to the room, put my stuff away, and head down.

The atmosphere of the hostel was incredibly genial. The people, a majority of whom were in their twenties, were huddled in circles that were obviously mixed in cultures and language. I walked to find a seat and was immediately invited into a circle of various people from Australia, England, Spain, Japan, France, and a couple of Americans. I walked into a conversation about different norms for picking people up, a conversation I desperately wanted to hear.

The French were discussing how they do a lot of surveillance and debating before they talk to someone, something I knew all too well. I asked them why, to which they replied that they tend to see this person afterward, and want to make sure that opening up to them is the right choice. Someone snorted. I looked over to see a gorgeous 6’2” tan guy quickly putting his head down as if to hide from the curiosity of the people around him. He was exquisite. His dark brown hair rested in a bun on top of his head and he was wearing short shorts and a button up shirt. His calves were extenuated by his rolled down hiking socks and his muscular thighs rested on the chair, leaving little to the imagination. He quickly said that in the United States, where he was from, that people just go for what they immediately find attractive, leaving them to later regret when their one night stand turns out to be a little crazy. His voice was deep, but not masculine. He had a friendly air to his voice and a twinkle in his dark brown eyes.

After talking for a while, I went to the room to change into my swim trunks. It was mid afternoon and I wanted to hit the beach while the sun was still out. On my way out, I ran into Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome in the stairwell. We exchanged quick half smiles and continued in our separate directions.

The experience at the beach was something else. The women tanned with their tops off, and the men adorned the tightest, shortest of speedos. The freedom of the culture still amazes me to this day. Spending a good majority of my school days playing water polo and being around guys in speedos didn’t prepare me for this. The cut and shape of their speedos was almost sensual, matching the curves of their bodies or the ripples of their muscles. Speedos back home were either too tight for the wrong people, or too loose for the right ones. I descend onto the beach and found it difficult to walk; sand was nonexistent and in its place were large stones that either poked your feet or slid out from under you while you walked. I found a space on the beach and set out my towel.

As I removed my shirt and sat down on my towel, I looked out over the water and took in the beautiful view. Someone sat next to me a couple of feet away. I felt something hit my feet. I looked down to see an orange t-shirt on my toes. I looked to my left and had to help my jaw from falling down. A beautiful man, probably in his late thirties, was standing above me in a white speedo.

He repeated something to me. “Quoi?” I asked him. He repeated in French if I could hand him his shirt, he accidently dropped it on me taking it off. I quickly handed it to him, apologizing. HE smiled and sat down, Hearing my accent and asking me where I was from. As we began to speak I learned that he was form Paris but moved to the South to operate a real estate office. He was about 5’11” and was completely hairless, obviously from shaving. His chest, legs, and arms seemed so soft. There has always been something about older men who are hairless, I don’t know what it is but it always gets me going. In his speedo rested a bulge of moderate proportions and his hair was pushed to the side, slightly greying. He rested with his legs out crossed in front of him and his two arms behind him, supporting him upright. His skin fell around his defined muscles. He was slim with definition. I shifted my gaze and crossed my legs as I was getting hard looking at him. He laid back and put his arms behind his head. I watched as his chest rose and fell. At this point I needed to get up or else I would have reached out and touched him right there. I got up and went into the water, watching my step as the stones on the beach slid under my every step into the water.

Once in I waded around, going under every so often and coming back up. The water was calm and the day beautiful. “C’est beau, non?” I heard my French friend asked. I quickly spun around, frightened as I had not heard him swim up next to me. “Oui” I replied. We stayed there talking, treading water, about 200 feet from the beach. He briefly went under water and I felt his head ram my stomach. His head slid up my stomach and came out of the water right at my right shoulder. He looked at me, his nose touching mine. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were so close” he explained in French as he continued to tread, not moving, our legs grazing each others while we kept ourselves afloat. He didn’t move. My breath escaped me; I felt the blood rush to my cock as I stayed there with his hairless chest against mine.

His hand grasped my cock and I let out a brief sigh. He smiled devilishly and breathed onto the nape of my neck. I shuddered. I felt his cock grow against my thigh, straining against the material of his speedo. There was something so erotic about this, how seemingly public but private it was all in the same instance. He then briefly removed his hand from my cock and then I gasped as he went inside my board shorts, grasping my cock. The feeling of his bare skin on my flesh mixed with the slight chill of the water was sublime. We stayed like this, treading and holding each other’s cocks for a couple of minutes.

He then exclaimed that we should swim back. I was disappointed, but then thought how unrealistic it was to get anything done while in the water. We walked to our towels, erections fully visible, and sat down. I began to towel off and had but my shirt and shoes back on. I was telling him goodbye and telling him it was nice to meet him when he started to laugh. “Americans don’t know how to ask for what they want” he said in broken English, followed by an invitation to his home. I gladly obliged. We crossed the street from the main promenade and entered Old Nice. We then crossed a square, a couple of narrow alleyways, and climbed a set of rickety stairs to his flat. We entered a single room with a double bed in front of a window facing the beach, and a small kitchenette on the right. He closed the door and I turned around to look at him.

Somewhere in the minute between me entering his apartment and turning around, he had managed to get fully naked. I turned to see his erect cock sticking straight out at me with a slight curve to the right. His foreskin was slightly pulled back revealing his smooth head. He must have been about seven and a half inches with a nice amount of girth. It was the first cock I had seen in two months and it was perfect. I looked at this 30 something year old man and his hairless body, the grey in his hair, the definition of his slender body, and immediately my cock was straining against the fabric of my shorts. I stripped my clothes off and he commented on my muscular build. We had the same body type, just had a little more build compared to his lean frame. He led me to his bed, pushed me down, then slid his body on top of mine, planting his mouth on my neck and giving my a slight bite as his tongue slid onto my neck and he began to suck.

He planted his mouth onto mine and we kissed. His tongue slid into my mouth and I could not help but laugh, as this was quite literally a “French kiss.” He took my cock in his hand and began to slightly tug at it, causing me to grasp the sheets in both hands. He moved down my body with his tongue, stopping at my nipples and abs to bite and lick them. Every effortless flick of the tongue drove me into frenzy. He then released my cock and grabbed my wrists, planting them both against the wall behind me. He quickly moved form my midsection to my armpits, sucking and biting them, causing me to send my pelvis into his, to which he responded by grinding his cock into mine to put me down, the tension of which made me squirm.

The attention was suddenly taken from my chest to my thighs. He kissed, bit and licked my inner thighs, breathing small breaths right under my balls and lightly licking the underside of them. I was brimming with lust. He was teasing every muscled in my body and he knew it. I wanted to beg him to fuck me but I was too much enjoying this pleasure. He then trailed his hot breath up and down the shaft of my cock, adding a slight flick of the tongue down the length every couple of seconds. Then with one quick motion he took my whole cock into his mouth and just held it there, puffing hot breath and flicking his tongue around the head. I had to control every muscle in my body to not thrust into his mouth. He slowly bobbed up and down, artistically using every part of his mouth to make my eyes roll back, even having his teeth lightly grace the underside of my cockhead.

After a couple of minutes of fighting off orgasm, he came off my cock and trailed his body lowly up mine until his lips were locked with mine. His cock lightly touched mine every so often as it dangled over me. I reached down to grab it but he flicked my hand away, telling me I was his guest. He commanded me to roll over, and then forcefully flipped me over. He spread my legs with a simple outward spread of his knees and then grabbed my ass. He kneaded it in both hands, trailing his fingers around me hole before diving his tongue in. I yelled out. His tongue danced around my hole, darted in and out, and he every so often nibbled on it, letting his tongue dance around my taint. I almost came right there. He came up to my ear, his cock tracing around my hole. I resisted the temptation to shove my hole onto his cock to tell him what I wanted. He whispered into my ear he wanted me and I quickly obliged. He spit in my hole and I struggled to find the word for lube. I stopped racking my brain when I felt the familiar cold sensation of silicone lubricant being applied to my hole. I was so excited and didn’t realize what he was doing until I felt his cock at my hole. I raised my ass and arched my back and his head popped in. I briefly grimaced then relaxed and slid my ass back onto his cock. He moaned. His cock slowly filled my ass and I began to rock back and forth. He stayed there motionless. He then placed two hands on my ass, pulled out, and told my to flip onto my back. I did as he told, and he threw my legs over his shoulders. He repositioned his cock and slid back in. Then it was game on. He placed his hand on my neck and lightly pressed down and began thrusting. My toes curled and I yelled out. The curvature of his cock and the angle he was at was making him pound into my prostate. With every thrust my cock seemed to swell more and more. He grunted and stared into my eyes, then turned his head and began biting my ankle. With every thrust his bite became harder. I couldn’t take much more, I was about to explode but wanted to wait as long as I could. I took my hand off my cock and met every thrust of his. We synched up until even our grunts were in unison.

The pressure moved from my prostate into my cock. With every thrust I felt the spasms up and down my cock until out of nowhere I was cumming. Rope after rope of hot cum spurted out of me, hitting my chin, the wall, and pooling on my chest. He moaned, pulled out, and came all over my chest, hitting my eyebrows and chin too. He collapsed on top of me, our cum sticking to his chest as well.

We stayed there for about an hour before I got up to clean off. He saw me out, we exchanged numbers, and I went back to the hostel. I took a shower and sat down on my bunk. The door opened and I looked up to see the 6’2” tall dark and handsome from earlier enter. We exchanged the same awkward smile and he introduced himself to me as Julian from Arizona. He told me he was travelling around Europe for the next couple of months and was hoping to visit Paris soon. We exchanged Facebook information and then turned in for the night. I reflected to myself before drifting off to sleep that maybe this trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

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