Here’s the entirety of European Trade: The Frenchman, a hot new story by Gavin Rockhard! Beware: this tale of gay erotica contains a baguette!
Kyle didn’t discover that the men were lumberjacks and that they were on strike until much later. When he happened upon them, they appeared to be a couple dozen of the most muscular men he had ever seen, lounging around, drinking coffee and looking nonchalant when pretty girls walked by. It was a very sedate strike.
Kyle was here in France — visiting from his native Canada — in order to taste the masculine fruit of the country. And there was no sweeter fruit than these lumberjacks. Their muscles bulged against the black and white-striped shirts they wore, with low v-necks that showed off their strapping chest muscles.
One, in particular, attracted Kyle’s gaze. He was tall, broad-shouldered, mustached and grizzle-chinned, with a tattoo of a French flag visible on his chest and one of Marianne on his left bicep, which was bare beneath a sleeveless shirt.
“Bonjour,” Kyle said. He knew his French was good, if Quebecois-accented. “Je m’appelle Kyle.”
The man grunted. He screwed up his nose when Kyle sat next to him at the little cafe table. He looked like he was about to say something, but then a pretty middle-aged woman walked by, gabbing on her cell phone. The man watched her with intent interest.
“I would like to pay you money,” Kyle said. He blushed, momentarily at a loss for words as the man glared at him.
“I am on strike,” he said.
“No, no, I’m not going to pay you for your job, I have something special in mind,” Kyle said. “I want you to come back to my hotel room. I’ll pay you five hundred euros.”
“Five hundred euros. You just come back to my hotel room, and… y’know, let me do some stuff.”
“You show me,” he said as though he had a good guess and simply wanted confirmation. He frowned. “Under table.”
Kyle looked among the other lumberjacks, who smoked cigarettes and lazed like they were taking the day off instead of striking. One of them looked at the man as though he wanted to know what was happening, but he did not ask.
Shivering with fear and anticipation, Kyle dove underneath the cafe table. Tourists walked by, sneaking glances at him. The man wore blue pants made of some thick fabric; back in Canada, Kyle would have guessed they were Dickies but he wasn’t sure if that was a thing in France. He didn’t what he was expected to do, but he stuck his head between the man’s legs and kissed his cock.
“Tu es sale.”
The man wore no underwear. His massive, limp dick was palpable beneath the fabric of his pants. He laughed a deep, baritone boom when Kyle kissed his dick. When he laughed, his dick twitched.
The man stood up, and Kyle crawled out from underneath the table. The man stood there. He lit a cigarette. When Kyle stood near him, the man pointed to the ground. He ashed right on Kyle’s head.
“Crawl,” he said. He didn’t wait for an answer. He just turned around and walked away, and Kyle got down on all fours. He followed after him, keeping his head up and as close as he could get, so he could smell the man’s thick asscheeks.
He didn’t leave the cafe. He walked to the counter, and Kyle blushed intensely. The pretty girl clerk looked at him with a curious expression as she sold the man a baguette. She smiled flirtatiously at him, and she called him Hugo.
Hugo smiled at her. “Tu es très jolie,” he said. He kissed her on the lips, and she swooned into his arms.
For a moment, Kyle thought he was forgotten, that Hugo was going to take this girl into the men’s room and fuck her. But the girl pushed him away. She squealed and slapped him lightly, though she laughed and blushed as though she was happy to have kissed him despite the slap.
Hugo left her with a shrug, like he didn’t care that she had rejected him. He returned to his table, grabbed the beret he had left there, finished his coffee and walked off. He didn’t glance behind him at Kyle, who scampered after him.
“I thought we’d go to my hotel room. I’ll suck your dick and lick your asshole and you can fuck me,” Kyle said. “I’ll do anything you want. Five hundred euros.”
“Okay. Thanks, Hugo,” Kyle said. “My hotel is-“
“Non,” he said. He stopped walking. They were in the cafe’s backyard. It didn’t appear to be used very often, but it was maintained. It was a small grassy plot that faced a cobblestoned alley. There was a row of shrubs that prevented anyone from seeing fully in, but the yard was not concealed — no one could see anything roughly below Hugo’s waist. Of course, people in the cafe’s kitchen could see through a window, but it seemed Hugo didn’t much care about that.
Hugo took off a hunk of the baguette with his teeth. He loudly munched on it, while Kyle settled on his knees in front of Hugo’s body. His face was just inches from Hugo’s crotch.
“Is it… do you want me to just…?”
“Suck,” Hugo said, his mouth full of bread. Crumbs landed on Kyle’s face. “Sucer.”
Kyle unzipped Hugo fly and pulled his pants down. He wasn’t wearing underwear, so his thick cockshaft popped right out. It hit Kyle in the face, making Hugo laugh.
“You have a big dick.”
“Oui,” Hugo said. His face was flat and expressionless. He puffed on the cigarette in one hand, then took another bite of the baguette. His burgundy beret almost fell off his head.
Kyle kissed his cocktip again. It twitched just like before, but now Kyle could taste the musty smell of his sweat. His uncut cock tasted something like a vineyard, Kyle thought, not the wine part, but the unused mash, the waste left over after making wine — he had gone on a tour of a real French vineyard before he found Hugo. It was musty and sweet and strong, and it made Kyle’s dick hard.
“Colette,” Hugo said. His voice was as grim and flat as his face. Kyle didn’t know what he meant at first, but then Hugo repeated it. “Colette.” He took a few steps closer to the window that faced the cafe’s kitchen. Kyle had to scramble after him to stay in front of his still-limp cock. That placed Kyle up against the ancient brick wall of the cafe, while Hugo’s big body filled the open window into the kitchen. “Colette.”
That pretty waitress from inside walked in there from the cafe. She scoffed at Hugo. “Eh, Hugo, go away, I am busy.”
From her position in the kitchen, she couldn’t see that Hugo’s dick was out, and she couldn’t see that Kyle was letting that entire shaft drop into his mouth. He suckled on it, as passionately as he could without making much noise. He wasn’t sure if Hugo was deliberately hiding the blowjob from Colette, but he didn’t want to make more attention than he had to — he didn’t even really want this to be public, that wasn’t something Kyle liked. He would have rather taken Hugo into a hotel room and had his way with him.
“I have written a poem,” Hugo said. His dick was beginning to get hard now that Colette was paying attention to him.
She blushed and laughed again. She waved him off, but she also moved closer, washing dishes near enough to the window that she could hear him.
“Let me see your breasts,” he said. His cock throbbed in Kyle’s mouth. “Or just one. They are so beautiful, they are like poems of the flesh. My words can never be as inspired as they are.”
She undid her blouse, and let one of her tits fly free. She made it look rather casual, as though it was an accident, though she had clearly done so deliberately. Hugo lowered his head and tried to suck on her nipple, as his dick fully perked up to full erection in Kyle’s mouth.
“Hush, Hugo, I am married,” she said. She took her breast away and covered it up. “Let me hear your poem.”
He straightened his back. His dick twitched in Kyle’s mouth, and he lit another cigarette. He exhaled the smoke away from the cafe. He put the baguette down on a table that sat out back — it had a wobbly leg, so it tottered when he put the baguette on it. His heavy, hairy balls rested on Kyle’s chin, dripping sweat onto him while the first few drops of salty precum hit his tongue.
You are pretty like Paris
When it lights up at night
You are an oasis of illumination
In a desert of night-time
You are where the camel drinks at last
Before it dies
Under the fierce Algerian sun
You are my canteen
The final drink
The last one I need
To die on sand, satisfied
And thirst, quenched
Vous êtes jolie comme Paris
Quand il allume la nuit
Vous êtes une oasis d’illumination
Dans un désert de nuit
Vous êtes là où le chameau boit enfin,
Avant qu’il ne meurt
Sous le soleil algérien féroce
Vous êtes ma cantine
La boisson finale
La dernière que je dois
Pour mourir sur le sable, satisfait
Et la soif, trempé
She blushed and smiled. “That is very pretty, Hugo,” she said. She patted him on the muscular belly beneath his lumberjack’s shirt. His skin puckered at her touch, and his dick twitched. She bared her tit again for him, making him growl with desire. She covered it back up with a giggle. “But you did tell the same poem to Maria last week. She has told me about it.”
Hugo’s mouth opened but no words came out. His deep voice rumbled. He had obviously not meant to get caught at this. She laughed at his reaction, then turned around and walked away.
“Damn it!” Hugo snorted when she was gone. “Merde!” The kitchen was empty.
He pistoned his hips before Kyle could react. That pushed his entire cock down Kyle’s throat. Kyle choked and spasmed, and his own dick leaked precum into his fingers. His head banged painfully into the wall behind him.
He slathered spit all along the shaft, coughing up so much saliva it dripped in clumps. Hugo’s muscles bulged beneath his black-and-white striped shirt, which had a few dark spots now where he sweated through it.
Kyle’s hands stretched up to Hugo’s chest, slipping under that shirt to massage his hairy muscles. He had a thick nest of fur there on his torso, which Kyle loved. He wished he could get up and lick his chest clean, but he had a feeling Hugo would not allow that.
As Kyle groped Hugo, Hugo groped as well — his hands slipped into the window, where he felt around until he found a cheese plate. He pulled it out. The smell of funky cheese filled the air, overpowering even the precum and sweat scent of Hugo’s cock.
As he pumped his hips, fucking Kyle’s face, Hugo ignored his choking and his frenzied sucking. He just grabbed the baguette he had half-eaten, and he made himself a cheese sandwich, just by ripping off hunks of bread and cheese. He ate it vociferously, crumbs landing all over Kyle and even on Hugo’s dick so Kyle could taste the bread and the sour cheese.
All of a sudden, Hugo pulled off Kyle’s face. He jammed the baguette into Kyle’s face as though trying to make him deepthroat that as well. He laughed cruelly when the baguette just left crumbs all over Kyle’s cheeks.
“Lick my ass. Lécher mon cul.”
Then he turned around. His asscheeks were big and plump and tanned brown. They were hairy, but not extremely so, they were just hairy enough for Kyle. He dove his face between those cheeks.
Hugo grunted like he was surprised. Kyle loved licking ass though, so he enthusiastically lapped at the sweat that trickled between Hugo’s cheeks. His body was big and plump, so his ass was juicy. Kyle’s entire face fit between those delicious cheeks. He sucked every inch of Hugo’s funky hole.
His eyes and his nose were covered by sexy manmeat, but Kyle could hear that something was happening. Hugo shifted his weight a little, like he faced a different direction now. Hugo said something and laughed — was that aimed at Kyle? He couldn’t tell.
Eventually Kyle had to come up for air. He was still pinned between the wall and Hugo’s big ass, but he could see just barely that there was a white-faced mime in the alley. He must have been walking by and seen Hugo getting his ass licked.
Now the mime was bent over, leaning against the fence with his ass in the air. He wiggled his ass like a dog trying to scratch an itch. That made Hugo laugh, and Kyle joined in — the mime was making fun of them. He was in the same position as Hugo, moving his ass as though an invisible man licked it.
Kyle licked all the way from the top of Hugo’s ass, right at the small of his back, down his asscrack, over his hole and through the funky hair of his taint. Kyle’s head appeared on the other side of his body, where Kyle swallowed his heavy ballsac.
Hugo grunted. He lifted his balls up, then plopped them back in Kyle’s mouth a few times.
Sensing that Hugo was ready to move on, Kyle stood up, very slowly, keeping his tongue out so he licked Hugo’s cockshaft then all the way up his chest and over that black-and-white striped shirt he still wore.
He nearly managed to lick all the way up to Hugo’s face so he could kiss him on the lips — Kyle thought some straight European men would be willing to tolerate that — but Hugo roughly pushed his face away. Probably because his tongue had been inside Hugo’s ass just seconds ago, Kyle thought.
Oh well, that was okay with him. He knew what he wanted to do next. He dropped his own pants to bare his ass, while Hugo watched. He reached into the kitchen again, this time pulling out a bottle of red wine and a glass. He poured himself a drink. He laughed at the mime who mimicked everything Hugo did.
The mime finished his invisible wine and smashed the invisible glass on the road. Then he grabbed an invisible ass and pretended to fuck it, making Hugo laugh some more. The mime was really very good, Kyle thought.
As Hugo actually bent Kyle over for real, the mime beckoned for someone. Kyle blushed as he realized he was about to have an audience.
He bit his lip and threw his head back as Hugo rammed his dick in without a word of warning. He didn’t use any lube at first, but he started to spit on his cockshaft once he felt resistance. The pain in Kyle’s ass was extraordinary, and he moaned in both desire and agony.
It turned out the mime beckoned a musician, an accordionist who laughed when he saw Hugo fucking Kyle. The accordionist began playing musette music, which made the entire experience seem almost romantic to Kyle. The crooning accordion filled the air, covering up the sound of Kyle’s gasping as he accepted more and more of Hugo’s meat.
“Ooh la la,” Kyle said through his moans. His prostate came alive and sent tingles through his body. His pleasure grew in waves with every touch of Hugo’s cock inside him.
Hugo’s sausage-like fingers grabbed ahold of Kyle’s back and held on. His dick was all the way in Kyle’s ass now, his balls slapping against Kyle’s thighs. Kyle squirmed. Hugo grunted.
The tune coming from the accordion changed to a new song. Kyle recognized it but he couldn’t place it at first. He was too overwhelmed by sensations from deep within him to think about it.
It was only when Hugo began singing that Kyle recognized the words and placed it to the tune — it was “La Marseillaise”, the national anthem of France. It was a bloody, martial song and, despite the romance of the accordion, that atmosphere shone through because Hugo sang it with his deep, baritone voice, crackling, booming, pumping his biceps and his pecs on the accented words. He sounded like a soldier marching off to war, Kyle thought, covering up his own moans so he didn’t overpower the sound of Hugo singing.
At last an orgasm ran through Kyle’s body. He loved cumming with a straight man’s cock in his ass because it always made the straight man react — Hugo stopped singing for a moment. He grumbled, then groaned in surprise as Kyle’s asshole clenched around his cock.
When Hugo began to gyrate his hips again, the pain was worse than ever on account of Kyle’s orgasm-tightened ass. That didn’t last long, however, as the smell of cum filled the air, crowding out the bleu cheese and wine that still lingered, and the passion of Hugo’s fucking made Kyle relax
Now he shuddered, aftershocks of his orgasm wracking his body. He was fully limp though, barely able to remain on all fours in front of Hugo, with his ass in the air and his head on the ground.
Since Kyle no longer jacked himself off, Hugo could — and did — treat him like a ragdoll. He held onto Kyle’s asscheeks tightly, riding him, grinding his dick inside Kyle’s body as though he needed to fuck every inch of Kyle’s innards. He grunted out a few indecipherable French syllables.
Once he finished his wine, he smashed the delicate glass on Kyle’s back. A few shards of glass sprayed onto the ground at Kyle’s feet, and the slight twinge of pain made Kyle writhe. The smell of wine was strong now. Kyle squirmed but Hugo kept a tight grip on his body.
“I will drown your ass now,” Hugo said with a broken moan. “Je vais noyer ton cul maintenant…”He slapped Kyle’s cheeks and watched them ripple. His own muscles flexed and rippled as well, as an orgasm washed over his body.
His lit cigarette fell out of his mouth and landed on Kyle’s back, scorching him briefly before it rolled off him and fell onto the ground. He yelped a little, as the pain reawakened the exquisite sensations in his asshole.
Hugo fucked relentlessly, still breaking into the words of “La Marseillaise” every few seconds as the accordionist continued the song (or maybe started it over, Kyle couldn’t tell). Hugo grunted and roared as he fucked, and cum spurted out of his uncut cock.
It filled up Kyle’s ass, dripping into every corner of his body. He shot so much that some of it slipped out his ass, coating his butt and his inner thighs in creamy goodness. It was hot and thick, and it made Kyle moan when he felt wad after wad of semen land on his prostate.
He squirmed. He moved his ass back and forth, fucking himself with Hugo’s dick. Hugo stood perfectly still. He lit yet another cigarette as he still moaned with the power of his own orgasm.
“Ooh la la…” Hugo murmured with a dry, throaty chuckle.
Then his dick was perfectly limp. Kyle pulled off him and sighed. The most incredible relief of his life flooded his body now that his ass was empty. He turned around and dove his face between Hugo’s lumberjack arm and his body. As Hugo breathed heavily, and the mime and accordionist walked away, Kyle licked all the sweat that had collected there in Hugo’s damp armpit.
At last it was over. Hugo flopped his limp dick between his fingers, and he wiped his shaft off with the last little bit of baguette. He rammed the crusty, ass-and-cum-soaked bread into Kyle’s mouth, laughing when it made Kyle cough and choke.
He pulled his pants up, took a drag off his cigarette, then glanced towards the street. There was a pretty girl walking past, and Hugo’s eyes lit up.
“Money,” Hugo said. “Argent, maintenant.”
Kyle had forgotten he hadn’t actually paid yet. He pulled out his wallet, carefully counted out five hundred euros and handed it over. Hugo took it, nodded, then took the rest of the cash out of Kyle’s wallet. He pushed Kyle away and walked out to the main street, calling after the pretty girl.
“Antoinette! Antoinette! Attends-moi!”
Finally left alone, Kyle sighed. He pulled his own pants up and leaned against the fence. Inside the cafe’s kitchen, Colette had returned with a plate of dirty dishes. He wrinkled her nose at Kyle as though she either thought he was homeless or knew he was a tourist and didn’t like them.
But she didn’t tell him to leave the yard, so Kyle just stayed there, smelling the wine, bleu cheese and cum, the combined scent of which would forever make him think of France and the sexiest French stud he had ever met.
He smiled. This European tour, he thought, was going to be even better than he had hoped.