Memoirs of a Swinger Ep. 48

This is the forty-eighth episode of my unreliable memoirs, recounting encounters from the nineteen eighties. Each episode is self-contained, so you can read them without having read the previous ones.

This episode is a bit longer than I'd originally anticipated and is the first to be written from Steven's perspective in a while.

It is August 1985. Steven and Lesley have made it to Carole's villa in Provence for the remainder of their summer vacation. Their welcome, however, is turning out to be not quite what they were expecting.

I hope you enjoy it.

M4bloke

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Chapter 1

It didn't really need it. The Harley had been serviced by the dealer back in July. But I couldn't help fiddling with the bike anyway.

The oil didn't need changing yet but I checked the engine, gearbox and primary levels just to be sure. Then I gave the electrics the once over, adjusted the drive belt tension, lubricated the levers and checked the tyres for splits and cuts. Finally, I re-torqued just about every bolt I thought might need it, with a wrench I'd found in Carole's garage. I had no idea why Carole posessed a torque wrench or why her garage was so well stocked with tools for that matter, but it seemed a shame not to use them since they were there.

"Are we good to go?" Lesley asked as she walked across the villa's courtyard, carrying two cans of lager.

Donald and Mickey, Carole's two Rhodesian Ridgebacks looked up. They'd been lying in the entrance to the garage, enjoying the shade while I worked on the bike. Lesley handed me a can then bent forward to pat their heads. It gave me a great view of her body in profile, her petite figure and that gorgeous red hair of hers hanging down over her face.

"I think so," I said answering the question less than firmly. "Do you think we should be going though?"

"I do," Lesley said reassuringly. "I know you're protective of Carole, but right now she wants to be with Marcel, so we need to give them some space. You remember what we were like when we first got together?"

"True. You couldn't keep your hands off me could you?" I joked.

"I think you'll find it was the other way round," Lesley chuckled.

Our plan for the summer had been to spend the rest of August with Carole at her home in Provence. We'd wanted to be there for her after her husband, Fabien, had left her for another woman. What we hadn't counted on however was Marcel.

Carole had met Marcel in Scotland only a month or so ago when she and Lesley had gone for a weekend spa break, primarily to take Carole's mind off the break-up. Marcel was a wealthy Frenchman who owned a string of high-end car dealerships in France and he and his son Robert had been taking part in a historic car rally across Europe. By chance, they'd stopped for just one night at the same hotel Carole and Lesley had been staying at and Carole and Marcel had hit it off. After the rally had finished a week or so later, he'd flown back to London to see her again.

Marcel lived not far away from Carole, in Fréjus and, when August came and everyone in France took their holidays, it gave them the perfect opportunity to spend some time getting to know each other. Since we'd arrived at Carole's villa three days ago, she and Marcel had been inseparable though. It was like watching two teenagers, which was particularly frustrating for me as I'd been looking forward to fucking Carole.

Lesley was right, they needed some space and to remedy this, she suggested we buy a tent and some sleeping bags and go on a road trip. It was something we'd planned on doing the summer we'd first met, but our lives had ended up on a different trajectory.

In truth, Lesley had another reason for wanting to get away. While we'd been in Germany at the weekend, Suzy had given Lesley some post from our house in Wimbledon. A few days later, when Lesley got round to opening it, there'd been a letter from Jason Hennessy, who we'd met in New York at a party. He'd written to say he would be in Florence in a week's time, representing his family, who were lending a painting by Caravaggio to an exhibition at the Uffizi gallery. Jason had suggested that Lesley might like to join him. I was invited too but that was more out of politeness than anything.

"I'd like to see him, but if you don't want me to, I won't," Lesley had offered.

I knew Jason had had an impact on Lesley. I also knew he didn't threaten what we had, so it wasn't difficult to say yes to the trip.

"If you want to see Jason then you should," I'd told her. "We can do a bit of the Alps on the way, then drop down to Florence."

"Sounds perfect," Lesley agreed.

Chapter 2

If you wanted camping gear at a good price in France then you went to a Decathlon store. They were like supermarkets for every outdoor pursuit you could think of. Lesley and I bought a small tent, a couple of two season sleeping bags that zipped together and camping mats to put between us and the ground. We planned on eating out rather than cooking but we still bought a small gas stove, a pan to boil water, two enamel mugs, two plates and some cutlery. As we carried it out of the store I was beginning to wonder how it was all going to fit on the bike.

On the Wednesday evening, Carole and Marcel did a barbecue for us before we set off in the morning. It was a relaxed affair and the conversation flowed easily, even though Carole and Marcel still carried on like teenagers. Despite him being the reason for my lack of sex with Carole, I quite liked Marcel though. They seemed to be a good match for each other. Both similar ages and both with similar wealth. I think it had been one of the reasons Carole's relationship with Fabien had failed. Fabien couldn't cope with Carole being the successful one.

A little later in the evening while Lesley and Carole were deep in conversation about something, Marcel guided me out onto the patio on the pretext of smoking a cigar.

"I know how highly Carole thinks of you," he began after we'd lit our smokes. "And I'm sorry I've monopolised her since you got here."

I wasn't sure where this was going but responded as honestly as I could.

"Carole's been a good friend. I just want the best for her. We both do," I told him, adding, "The two of you seem to be getting on well."

"We are," he agreed, then hesitated before continuing, "We've been honest with each other about our past lives too."

I nodded non-committedly.

"I just wanted you to know that I'm fine with Carole's lifestyle." Marcel said slightly enigmatically, "I don't want to change her. I'd just like to find a way to be a part of her life, if I can."

Donald came over and plonked himself down on our feet. We both reached down to stroke him.

"He likes you," I said to Marcel.

"Poor judge of character," Marcel laughed.

"Dogs rarely are in my experience," I told him.

"Perhaps you're right," he replied. "Anyway, when you and Lesley come back I promise to give Carole some space. Besides her friends will be here and I don't want to encroach on her time with them."

Marcel was right. When we got back from our road trip, Carole's villa was certainly going to be busy, Daniel and Kate would be there, as would Paul and Astrid Walmsley, Buster and Skye, and Suzy and Uwe too. Even Jemima was coming, when she got back from seeing Miles. Then there were the locals, Sophie and Pierre, Emma and Claude and Roland and Marion who would be visiting from time to time. It promised to be quite a week.

"If you want to be a part of Carole's life then I think you need to be there," I told Marcel.

"I thought it might be a bit too soon. I don't want to make things uncomfortable for her."

"Has she told you she doesn't want you there?"

"No."

"Has she said she'd like you there?"

"I guess she has."

"Then I think you should."

"Thanks," Marcel said. "You know, in the short time I've known her I've learned there are two people whose approval means everything to Carole. Yours and Daniel's."

"We both just want the best for her," I told him. "I don't know what the future holds for the two of you any more than I know what it holds for the rest of us. But, so long as you make Carole happy and you treat her with respect then you'll have my approval and Daniel's too."

"Thank you, Steven."

Chapter 3

The following morning the four of us had breakfast, then Lesley and I put on our riding gear and got ready to depart.

"Thank you for talking to Marcel last night," Carole whispered into my ear as we hugged goodbye.

"Have fun without us," I told her.

Lesley and Carole hugged as I shook Marcel's hand and I saw the two of them whispering to each other too. Then, after giving Donald and Mickey a final petting, we mounted the Harley and rode out of Carole's villa and onto the main road. We were off on our adventure.

The plan was simple. Three nights camping then two nights in a hotel in Florence, followed by a leisurely ride back to Aix-en-Provence.

We had a couple of Michelin maps as our guide and a rough idea of where we were headed. But, other than the hotel in Florence, which had cost a small fortune, we had nothing else booked.

We took the main road almost all the way to the lac de Serre Poncon where we stopped for a late lunch. It was blisteringly hot and we ate inside the restaurant, glad of the shade. Lesley looked a bit worse for wear in the heat and I made sure she drank plenty of water before we set off again.

Although our intended destination of Aussois, in the Vanoise region of France, was only eighty or so miles further, it took us the best part of two and a half hours to get there and then another half hour to find the campsite. It was already seven o'clock, both of us were tired and a bit dehydrated and neither was looking forward to setting up our tent. Then Lesley noticed a sign at the campsite office advertising 'Cabins' for rent. In her best French she enquired if any were available. It was twenty francs to camp or two hundred for a cabin. We paid the two hundred willingly.

Our cabin was shaped like miniature chalet. It didn't have any toilet or washing facilities, (you had to use the communal ones in the shower block) and you had to use your own bedding. But it did have lights, an electric heater, as well as two chairs and a table and, most importantly, a comfortable bed. Outside was a small deck where you could sit and admire the view across the valley. It was tempting to do this but we were both hungry and in need of a drink.

Fortunately, the village of Aussois was only a few hundred yards back down the road and it had a bar and a couple of restaurants that made their money from hikers in the summer and skiers in the winter. Eight o'clock was still early for the French to be eating, so we got a table easily. We'd thought about changing before venturing out but, as we both had jeans and tee shirts on, we just stayed in the clothes we'd ridden in.

Lesley ordered tartiflette and a salad, while I opted for a steak. The tartiflette, made from potato, bacon and reblochon cheese, was a speciality of the region and Lesley was always adventurous when it came to trying out new food. We were both happy with our meals but, to be honest I was glad I went for the steak.

"I needed that," Lesley admitted after she'd finished the tartiflette and her first beer.

"Are you feeling better now?" I asked.

"Much," she said reassuringly, before adding, "And I'll feel even better after another beer."

I took hold of her hand and held it.

"I love you," I told her.

"I love you more," she responded cheekily.

"We'll have to disagree on that," I chuckled.

We had another beer and then another and, after persuading the restaurant to sell us a bottle of wine to take out, we paid up then set off back to the campsite. It was getting really cold now and even though it was the height of summer the altitude was having a big effect on the temperature. The summer sleeping bags we'd bought weren't up to a night in a tent in these temperatures for sure.

When we got back to the campsite we removed the sleeping bags from the bike along with the enamel mugs and a bottle opener. Once inside the cabin, I unwrapped the bags and zipped the two of them together. They felt cold to the touch, so I turned the heater on to warm everything up.

Lesley got to work on the wine, uncorking the bottle then pouring a generous measure into both mugs.

"Let's go look at the stars," she said.

"It's freezing out there," I told her.

"Just a quick look," she pleaded.

We put on our bike jackets then went outside and stood on the deck. The sky was amazing. With so little light pollution you could see what seemed like the whole of the Milky Way laid out before you.

"It makes everything feel so insignificant, doesn't it?" Lesley said looking up. "Knowing that, whatever we do in this life, it won't change a thing in the cosmic scale of things."

"That's very profound," I responded.

"It doesn't mean we shouldn't try," she clarified. "It's just a reminder that, however important we think we are, we're not really that important at all."

"How much have you had to drink?"

"Probably a little too much," she giggled before swigging down the rest of the wine in her mug.

The heater had done its job and, when we went back inside, the cabin was feeling much warmer. So we both stripped off then climbed into the double sleeping bag. The inside of the bag was still cold though and we snuggled together for warmth, kissing as we did. As the two of us began to get more amorous I couldn't help getting an erection which made its presence known, pressing up against Lesley's thighs. She reached down and took hold of it, stroking me as we kissed until I was so hard I was desperate for more. I reached down and felt her silky-smooth pubic mound then pushed a finger inside her. I don't think I'd ever known an occasion that Lesley hadn't been ready for sex and this evening was no exception.

"Lie on your back," I told her.

Lesley lay back and I climbed onto her. Using a hand to guide my very erect cock into her, I pressed half-way in then pulled out for a moment before pushing back inside again. The second time I went all the way, leaving my cock deep inside her and savouring the moment. Lesley sighed in encouragement.

"You know, of all the people in all the worlds in all the galaxies, you're the one I want to spend to my insignificant life with," she told me.

It was the alcohol talking of course, but it sounded genuine all the same.

"Make love to me, Steven," she pleaded.

Kissing passionately we began to fuck, slowly at first, then more vigorously as her juices lubricated my passage more freely. Lesley ground her pelvis against mine, willing herself on until I felt her grip my shoulders with both arms then wrap her legs around mine. She held on so tightly that I had to pump her with short strokes, each time trying to penetrate her as deeply as I could.

When she stopped kissing me I knew her orgasm couldn't be far off. I fucked her as hard as I could and soon she was clawing at my back, moaning in anguish. As we fucked, she reached down between her legs and held the base of my cock between her thumb and forefinger.

"Cum for me, Steven," she whispered.

I don't know how much longer I would have lasted anyway but Lesley knew what buttons to push and soon I was emptying myself into her just as she reached her own climax. She had timed it to perfection.

I stayed on top, leaving my cock inside her for as long as I could, but eventually it went limp and popped out of her pussy

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you more," I told her

Chapter 4

In the morning, I left Lesley sleeping and walked into Aussois. Every village in France, no matter how small, seemed to have a boulangerie back then, baking fresh bread every morning. I bought a baguette and four croissants then went back to the cabin and boiled some water on the deck for a coffee.

"It's the best I could do," I told Lesley offering her a mug of instant coffee and a croissant.

Lesley accepted the offering with a sweet smile and eagerly took a mouthful of croissant then a gulp of coffee.

"Delicious," she pronounced.

We tucked into our makeshift breakfast then showered before re-packing the bike and heading off on our ascent of the Col du Mont Cenis. Although the sun was shining brightly, the morning air was biting and we had to wrap up against the cold. As we descended the other side, we crossed into Italy. The guards at the border post waving us through disinterestedly when they saw us.

After that it was a long dash through Italy, skirting by Milan, then turning off and following the eastern shore of lake Como. Lesley wanted to stop off at the pretty town of Bellagio on the shores of the lake. Apparently it had been a mecca for poets and writers, including Mary Shelley who was supposed to have conceived the story of Frankenstein while staying there. I'm not sure if that was a recommendation for the place but I was interested to learn that Henry Fox Talbot, one of the fathers of photography had also holidayed there. The story went that, having been frustrated at not being able to paint as well as his wife, he'd invented photography instead.

We followed the lake to its northern end then had a choice. We could take the easy route or the longer, more difficult one, into Switzerland.

"I know you want to do the longer one," Lesley told me, "so let's do it."

It didn't disappoint, beginning in a long valley which, after an hour or so, turned left and into Switzerland. There was more formality at the border crossing this time and our passports were checked and stamped before we were allowed to continue. From there it was upwards and into the mountains. The views from the road were spectacular, and the pass wound between high peaks until reaching a plateau at the top.

As we descended from the plateau I spotted a small lake not far from the road, reachable by a farmer's track. I took the track and parked the bike almost at the water's edge.

"Race you into the water?" I challenged.

"It's going to be freezing," Lesley replied.

"Well, if you're scared, you can wait by the bike while I go in."

Lesley couldn't resist a challenge and she immediately started tearing her clothes off. I did the same and soon the two of us were naked. We both hesitated before entering the water and so I offered her my hand and we ran in together.

I would never have guessed that water could be so cold without turning into ice. We went in up to our necks then turned round and ran out as fast as we'd gone in. I pulled out the towels we'd packed from the bike and handed one to Lesley who dried herself frantically while I did the same. When she'd finished her pale skin was glowing and her nipples were like bullets.

"Let me photograph you against the bike," I asked.

"Ok," she giggled.

I loaded a roll of film into the camera then posed her against the bike. I tried to get her to look sultry but she kept laughing and so what I got was that cheeky smile of hers instead. When we were finished I gave her a hug and as I did, my erection came out to play again.

"Hmmm, what have we got here?" Lesley asked reaching down and wanking my cock.

"I can't help it," I chuckled.

"Well we'd better see what we can do about it then."

Lesley got down on her knees and with her hands cupping my balls began to suck me off. It felt great, although I felt a bit exposed standing by the lake. In the distance you could just about make out cars driving on the mountain pass we'd just ridden. Then, suddenly, from not far away we could hear the sound of conversation.