Bastille Day Ch. 09

He found a secluded place. Someone would have to drive along the small road and see his parked car and then find us a hundred meters or so away in the shade of some trees. He spread out his blanket. It would really have been too small for all of us, even if Anna had been hoping we could sit closer together. We spread out our towels.

As I was still wondering about clothes, he began to unbutton his shirt, remarking with a smile:

"Don't think I always go nude, but after a few days, when I go back to work, it feels strange to have to wear a coat and tie."

Of course, we all also began to undress, smiling at him, as he began to open his trousers before he had taken of his shirt. Both blouses were off before anything else, Anna and Marge smiling as their breasts appeared, their nipples erect. He returned their smiles, adding:

"Oh, sometimes at home - now alone - on weekends I forget to get dressed until I have to go out."

"I do too," I said, remembering write emails to Anna with nothing on.

Even though we all had so much experience being naked together, it was still a little arousing to be immediately stripping of our clothes after a day among "normal people." My jockey shorts off, I automatically jostled my sack. I only realized what I had done when Anna smirked slightly. Nothing wrong with that, if we were all going to be nude again - and may not just nude?

Sans picked up his trousers and fished a pocket knife with a corkscrew out of a pocket. He had had another corkscrew before, wouldn't have missed the one he had brought to our place. While he opened the wine bottle - one of two, and again an unaccustomed sight - Marge unwrapped the cheese and sausage. He sat down with us, remarking:

"Forgot plastic cups; we'll all have to drink out of the bottle."

We all nodded. He held up the bottle and took a sip, handing it to Marge. As she drank, he opened his knife and began to peel and slice sausage. Marge passed me the bottle with a grin and began to break the baguettes. Anna was already grinning, when I passed it on to her. Sans was still slicing sausage, telling us to start, as he reached for the cheese. Anna offered him the bottle. He held it up again, looking around at us, and drank. We waited till he had put it down, Since I had paid for our repast, I said: "Bon appetit," and we all took something to eat.

Sans returned to slicing sausage and cheese. When he had finished, he took another drink, passing the bottle again to Marge, and then looked up at the branches above us and said:

"This is better than I hoped, with you, of course, but here, like this: 'A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread and Thou.' No book of verses, but the rest is appropriate."

"Very," Marge agreed, holding up the bottle and drinking.

"Omar Khayyam," Anna said with a pleased smile, receiving one from Sans - also from me, but she didn't notice.

I drank and held the bottle out in her field of view. We ate and drank for another round in silence. Anna said a couple of words in German to Marge, who nodded with a chuckle and said:

"A German expression when there is longer pause in conversation during a meal: 'a ravenous silence'."

We all chuckled, nodding. Sans nodded again and said to Anna:

"And you like older men, father figures?"

I thought she blushed slightly, but it may have just been my imagination; her tan wouldn't have revealed a slight blush. When I heard her reply, I didn't dare look to see if she blushed more deeply:

"Just 'older men'; I have him."

I looked at Sans, seeing him suppress whatever expression he felt. Anna added:

"They know," nodding at Marge and me, adding softly: "parents divorced."

I didn't look at anyone, wondering if Marge would try to fill in the silence. Sans did, very much to my surprise, murmuring softly:

"My daughter too."

I ventured a glance at him and then at Anna, who looked very relieved. Marge remarked softly:

"My brother too. He knows."

Anna hadn't, but glanced passed me at her with little smile. The three of us looked back at Sans. He snorted with a very wry smile and reached across and took the bottle and drank, smiling wryly again, looking at each of us. He murmured:

"Never told anyone that."

Anna smiled slightly and replied:

"After last summer. ... I hadn't thought till then that he - an older man - would still care, but then ..., well, then I did."

She gave me a smile, that I returned, continuing:

"It just happened. Hmm? I guess I helped it happen. Been nice for us both."

Sans smiled with a nod, replying:

"I can understand. It started the first time my wife was in a clinic. She had bad depressions. Oh, I wasn't entirely guiltless. Wrong word! Whatever. When she started to wear bras, I guess I said more about her growing up than maybe I should have, but she didn't mind, liked it, she later told me. Yes, we teased each other. No, I never saw her naked, just almost."

He snorted with another wry smile, suggesting that he could be recalling something. Then he continued:

When she was older, of course she was sleeping with guys. I don't want to know when she first did, probably younger than I want to think. Anyway, when my wife was in the clinic - she was at university, but then came to stay at home, still studying. Had we been teasing again? Don't think so. The second evening, she just asked me if I wanted her to sleep with me."

He looked up with another wry smile and then took another drink from the bottle.

"Why not," Marge remarked softly, and reached for the bottle.

Anna and I nodded while she drank and then passed the bottle to me. I drank and passed it to Anna, who had to tilt it up to empty it. We all snorted, ostensibly at her having emptied the bottle, but, of course, more at the unexpected revelations of three incestuous relationships. I felt obliged to say something and remarked:

"Mom was the only female in my family, and - love her as I did - well, you understand."

The others nodded. Sans smiled and said:

"We still do, but now she is married and has two children; few visits when we can. Hm-hmm! Part of my 'problem', liking younger women."

We all nodded with more relaxed smiles. Without asking if we wanted more to drink, he reached for the second bottle and his knife with the corkscrew. It wasn't a Swiss officer's knife, of course. I now recalled that I had seen it advertised in various versions: a French knife with a curved handle.

We all had drunk more or less than a quarter of a liter, he maybe more, when he admitted that he slept with his daughter, but it had been a hot day. We all drank more than a sip when the bottle was passed, still silent after his last remark.

Suddenly Marge snorted with a grin and said something in German, obviously to Anna, who then snickered, grinning back. Sans and I looked at them with quizzical expressions. Marge grinned again, nodding to Anna, who almost laughed. I asked her:

"Okay, what did that mean?"

Her nipples popped out - or maybe they had before. She giggled, looking again to Marge for support, and said:

"She asked if this isn't when the ... girls ..." Marge interjected: "Milkmaids."

" ... when the milkmaids on the summer pastures attack the first man they see."

We all laughed, almost too heartily, either from the wine or because it had been in the back of our minds all along. Sans smirked and asked with feigned innocence:

"Do they?"

We laughed again, and Anna said something in German. Marge nodded, snickering with a grin and explained:

"Bavarian dialect: On the pastures in the Alps there is no sin."

"Where those milkmaids are?" he asked again with a feigned innocent expression, then grinning and asking:

"And the men have to let them?"

"Sounds like something from Peer Gynt," I remarked.

Anna nodded vigorously with a grin, pleasing me, that she apparently also knew Ibsen's play. Marge also nodded, but to Sans, and said:

"Only if they want to, or can't escape."

"Hm-hmm! Why would they want to? I mean: want to escape?" he asked.

"I bet they never do," I replied with a smirk.

He smirked back, snickering, and asking - glancing at Marge and Anna:

"But what do the milkmaids do if they catch one?"

Marge chortled with a grin and replied:

"Milk him, of course!

We laughed even louder than before. Anna caught her breath, grinning, and asked him:

"Want me to show you how?"

She leaned forward and stretched out her arm and grasped his cock, already a good handful for her.

That was the end of our so delightful, verbal foreplay, but the beginning of what we all had been anticipating since we took off our clothes. Anna moved closer to him, and Marge, to me, grasping my cock with a grin and wink. It was only a few moments before our cocks were completely aroused. I was watching what Anna was doing, just feeling that mine was in Marge's hand. His and my eyes met, and we exchanged grins. Then Marge snickered and said:

"And sometimes they milk them like calves and lambs would, or - hm-hmm! - in their own special way."

They soon were emulating calves or lambs, and then we were lying on our backs with them enjoying themselves and delighting us with the way they moved their hips, while we aroused their nipples. Sans and I glanced over at each other with grins.

Then I forgot him and Anna; Marge dropped down on me and wanted her nipples sucked, and then to have her tongue in my mouth, and we fucked - with my finger also arousing her. The sound of their hips slapping together reminded me for a moment that they were also there, but I forgot them again when Marge's clutching muschi began to milk me, then only aware of the wet sounds we were making.

When we had recovered a little, I remembered them again and looked over, seeing Anna lying flat on him, her legs extended, the back of her head to me on his shoulder. She was still breathing deeply with soft moans. So was Marge, but then she raised her head and smirked, and then also glanced over at them, turning back to me with a pleased smile and murmuring:

"This is more fun than last year."

I nodded, replying:

"And much wittier, your milkmaids."

"Um-hmm. Weren't we good ones?"

"You have to ask?"

"No!" She gave me a brief kiss.

Sans chuckled. I glanced over again and saw him rubbing Anna's back, as he remarked:

"Very good milkmaids, this one especially. No! Both of you, just didn't know Marge was one last night."

She chuckled and sat up, my cock slipping out, and replied:

"No, last night, waiting at your door, I suddenly wondered if call girls' nipples were as aroused as mine were when they went to meet someone."

"You aren't a call girl," he replied emphatically."

"No, but when it got good, I suddenly wondered if I could be one."

"Hmm? I wouldn't know. I prefer milkmaids, just innocently doing what nature wants them too."

"Oh, that's me!" Anna remarked cheerfully, rolling off him and smiling at us.

We all chuckled. Then she clutched her thighs together and said:

"Oooh, I've got to go."

"We all do," I replied.

Marge nodded, and we all got up. Sans raised his eyebrows questioningly. Marge snorted and said:

"Anywhere; we've all done it together."

"I guess so," he responded with a chuckle.

We all turned and took a step or two away from the blanket and our towels and did. When we turned back, exchanging wry smiles, he asked:

"Finish our 'loaf and jug of wine'?"

"Maybe we want a midnight snack sometime, just the wine?"

"Good idea. I'm driving."

He picked up the bottle and handed it to her. She looked at how much was left and drank her share. I drank what I hoped was half of the rest, and Anna emptied the bottle. We gathered up the rest of the food and got dressed. On the walk back to his car, Anna, walking at his side, ahead of us remarked:

"That was the best picnic I ever had."

"For me too," he agreed, turning his head to give her a smile, then chuckling and adding:

"And now you've done it outdoors."

She nodded, returning his smile. Marge and I also exchanged smiles and nodded. As we were about to get in the car, he snorted with a smile at me and said:

"We didn't do it quite right. You and I should have kept our clothes on first, like Manet's painting, 'Picnic in the Park.'

"But only 'first'," Marge replied with smile. Anna grinned and said:

"But then we could have had fun undressing you."

We all chuckled and took our places in the car. On the drive back, we thanked Sans for his tour of Avignon, and the three of them thanked me for our late lunch, not without good chuckles. When he had parked the car, he suggested that we take the food, explaining:

"Marge knows there aren't enough chairs in my place."

She nodded with a smile, and Anna and I nodded, exchanging smiles, liking his assumption that he could join us for a midnight snack - and anything, everything that could include. No need to count chairs, I thought. As we walking back, he said:

"I don't want to - not after today - but I think I should have dinner with some of the natives. Oh, they have been wondering about you three."

He snickered and gave me a smirk, adding:

"Maybe wondering what you have - well, they can see that - what you do to have two attractive women with you."

Marge and Anna smiled at his compliment, giving me a moment to think, then replying:

"You'll have to ask them, but I'm glad to have the assistance of a graduate of an agricultural college who knows what milkmaids do."

They all laughed, Anna and Marge looking at him with nods. I smiled, very pleased with the success of my remark, that it also clearly implied that his company was welcome. Still chuckling, we parted and went our respective ways.

It was a little funny to see everyone else nude, but then we were back in our room and were again, still chuckling.

"Milkmaids," I said with a grin.

"Need a shower," Marge replied.

"Both of them," I said, glancing at Anna, who grinned and replied:

"Of course."

They glanced at each other and nodded, and were soon in the shower together, with me watching. Good thing that the bathroom floor had a drain. Maybe when the building was built, someone knew that there would be lots of showers with the curtain open.

It wasn't arousing to watch them, but entertaining, and they wanted it to be, not just for me to watch, taking turns grinning at me as they more than just washed each other's breasts, chuckling and exchanging pleased ooohs. When Anna tickled Marge with both hands, she squirmed, but didn't try to escape as her fingers found Anna's ticklish spots. Delightful to watch, but I wished that I had looked more to see how their breasts moved when they both squirmed.

When they started washing each other's pussy and asshole, they were just smirking at each other, apparently too engrossed with what they were doing to include me, but that was also nice to watch, letting me recall that they hadn't done anything with each other since the night before last.

Marge washed Anna's legs first, chuckling as she grasped her foot and began to tickle her sole, not relenting. Anna lost her balance, leaning in the corner of the shower as her leg jerked. This time I remembered to watch her breasts jiggle. She didn't let Marge lift her other foot up, and she didn't either, making Anna crouch down to wash her legs, providing me with another nice nude image similar to sketches by Degas or Renoir.

Watching naked women isn't voyeuristic, if one relates it to non-erotic art. Of course, it isn't, if they know you are watching. Or are all sketches and paintings of nudes erotic, voyeuristic? Probably; something to discuss with Sans. With these thoughts, I handed them their towels and then took my shower, which was much less entertaining for me and for them.

We went out, agreeing that we should have dinner and spend the evening with people from our group. On the way to find them, Marge snorted and remarked:

"So they won't gossip too much about us."

"At least, not while we're with them," I replied.

"And only those who weren't at Cap d'Agde last year and know anyway," Anna added.

"I wonder how many do?" Marge asked.

"Or if Ron and Willy told them all; their girls knew?" I added.

"I doubt it," Anna replied: "Probably just their girlfriends, when they saw me with you."

We found some of the group at the bar. Did their smiles when they greeted us suggest that they had been wondering about us? If so, the men should have been envious of me.

At dinner, we sat at a larger table with two couples who hadn't been along the previous year, but they had, of course, heard that some of us had been and asked if we had. We spent the meal talking about Cap d'Agde without any references to sex, except to answer a question about what they had heard about the more liberal end of the beach, just telling that we had heard the same.

We agreed to spend the rest of the evening together, joining in the nightly entertainment program.

After the entertainment, we said good night to the other couples and were about to return to our place, when Marge said:

"Oh, I want to see the teenager disco."

We found it, discovering that they wore something around their hips.

"Just as well," Anna remarked, seeing how young some of the teenagers were.

We agreed and I asked why Marge had wanted to see it. She chuckled and asked if we had read the website's information about teenagers. We hadn't. She snorted and said that she would show us later, that she had printed it. As we returned to our place, she explained:

"Sounded like it is based on plenty of experience, but still pretty liberal." Glad we looked and that I remembered that I copied it."

Back in our room, she found a sheet of paper in her suitcase and handed it to us. It was in English - not a Google translation - and Anna had been right about the rules' being liberal. Marge and I chuckled as we read: "specially adapted supervision;" about respect; not doing anything previously agreed with parents; a buddy rule: two go, two return, or three and three; responsibility for what friends do; that provocative dress or actions could provoke "ambiguous reactions."

We more than chuckled when we read that the curfew for "under 14s" was 12:30. Fourteen year-olds could stay till 2 am, 3 am on disco nights! I read that rule to Anna and remarked:

"Sure isn't like in America."

"Nor Germany. Makes me feel old."

"Not like we are," Marge remarked, then chuckling and quoting the line that reminded that aids is still a fact, adding:

"So, they can do that, if they want, if they have asked their parents, just be careful."

"Even the 14 year-olds?" I asked.

"If they had discussed it with their parents, I guess," Anna replied, adding:

"Now in Germany they can - without asking. At least the law now says it isn't illegal if the partner is also not yet an adult, over eighteen."

"Really?! Hope their parents don't know!" I replied. Marge chuckled and remarked:

"Very liberal, but very realistic. I didn't at that age, but might have a year or two later, especially if I been able to see how on internet."

"Like I did, but not that young," Anna replied with a grin.

"Look or ...?"

"When I was seventeen, not just with Petra."

She took the paper back from me and said that she had to go, and we all did, using the toilet and doing the little nudists have to do to get ready for bed. Recalling that they hadn't slept together, I got in the far side of the bed, and Marge and Anna joined me in that order.

Curling up behind Marge, I reached over and held her breast, saying good night, and then reached past her and squeezed Anna's breast and said good night to her. They replied with nods, and my hand returned to Marge's breast, and we were silent.