Cigarette bums are the worst people in the world! I am a smoker and am very comfortable with the disgusting labels that come my way due to this affliction, but individuals who are either ‘giving up’ or constantly forgetting to buy, give me the shits. A standard response of mine to these arseholes is; ‘You haven’t given up, you’ve simply stopped buying.’ This response generally has a satisfactory conclusion and further harassment by this irritating breed normally ceases after that.
Of course in life there are always exceptions, and Francois was one of these. Francois looked like a real hick, but he was a very sexy hick. He stood around five-feet-ten tall and had a well-proportioned body. Francois had recently turned twenty-one and was a real farmer boy. He always looked sloppy and the clothes he wore were generally smeared with earth, grease, or whatever other grime he encountered during a working day. The jet black hair on his head always looked unkempt and in need of a haircut, and his facial hair was always in sore need of a trimming.
Francois was rather crass at times and had a laugh that sounded like a barking seal. The tone of his voice was brash and loud, but he was an affable oaf whom you simply couldn’t help liking. Above all, he had the most mesmerizing medium brown eyes and a killer smile, which simply made you weak at the knees. It always amazed me how different he was from his dad who was soft-spoken and always looked clean and neat. Dick, his father, was a very wealthy farmer in the region and Francois was his eldest son.
Francois always engaged me when we bumped into one another at our local pub. To my dismay, he discovered early on that we smoked the same brand of cigarettes. As you would imagine there was no shortage of money in his family. Francois, however, never seemed to have money on him. Naturally, credit was freely extended to him, and everyone in the village knew that his dad would settle all accounts promptly. Francois generally arrived at the pub after six in the evening when his work for the day was done. By then, the shop that sold our brand of cigarettes was closed and the limited range of cheaper brands available at the bar, were totally unsatisfactory to him.
With a sheepish grin, he would always saunter over to me, before I routinely handed over three cigarettes at a time. It always amused me how he would place one cigarette behind each ear and then after lighting up the third one, have a brief chat with me, before moving off and mingling with the other locals. Despite his yobbish persona, Francois was not stupid and often surprised me with his interesting conversations. In fairness to Francois, he regularly popped by my house on weekends to drop off a packet of cigarettes, which he had bought for me.
Francois had a girlfriend named Rochelle. She was blond and pretty, but had very little upstairs and communicated in monosyllables. Although they weren’t living together as yet, there was no doubt that they were sexually active. It was also apparent that she was very keen on becoming a wealthy farmer’s wife. Rochelle seldom accompanied Francois to the bar, but when she did, she hung about like an unwanted spare part.
One Friday night when I hadn’t visited the pub, Francois pulled into my driveway at around nine o’clock. He had already been to the bar and was well on his ear by now. As you will no doubt have guessed, he popped by to bum cigarettes. After handing over the customary three cigarettes, Francois asked if I had any brandy and coke, his preferred drink. Once I had poured him a drink, he parked off in my lounge and made himself comfortable. More drinks followed and by the time he mentioned that he should be on his way, he was fairly drunk. I was very concerned about letting him drive, even though the road to their farm was rather inactive at that time of night. Six months earlier, nevertheless, when he had ventured further afield one Saturday evening, he had ended up with a DUI violation.
I then offered him my couch and a sleeping bag for the night. Francois had his own cottage on his parent’s farm and they didn’t monitor his comings and goings. It was, therefore, not necessary to inform them that he would be staying over at my place for the night. What happened next, however, totally stunned me.
“I need to shower before bed and am going to need some help from you,” he stated, slurring.
With his arm around my shoulder, we headed off to the bathroom. Once there, he leaned forward against the tiled wall and asked me to remove his clothing. Excited as I was, this scenario was becoming a little weird and I have to admit, making me feel slightly uncomfortable. After removing his t-shirt I bent down and took his sandals off his feet. Next, I asked him to turn around and lean his back against the wall. Upon removing Francois shorts, I really got a good look at him naked.
Francois was not very hairy. Having often seen his calves and forearms which were fairly hairy, I was surprised that his chest and upper arms were far less furry. His lower back also only had a sprinkling of hair that lead into a tantalizing furry arse crack, and his stomach was almost totally hairless. From his navel to his knees, however, there was literally a forest of hair. Francois dark cock was long and slim, with the most substantial foreskin overhang that I had ever seen. The wrinkled snout that hung off the end must have been at least an inch long. This masterpiece was nestled between two low hanging balls.
“I’m really a bit unsteady, will you wash me?” Francois asked, almost pleadingly.
“Sure,” I replied, albeit somewhat nervously.
As I was about to open the faucets to wet his body, he interrupted me by asking, “Shouldn’t you strip as well, you don’t want to get your clothing wet?”
Fuck, I thought, my cock is almost rock-hard. How the hell am I going to hide this from him?
Improvising, I answered, “Sure, but why don’t you turn around and lean against the wall so I can wash your back first?”
After quickly stripping I shortly had the water flowing, before applying shampoo to his hair. After that, I poured liquid soap onto a loofa and commenced washing his back, fighting with all my might to keep my erection under control. When, however, I washed his hairy arse my knob once more ignored my commands. I then quickly got to my knees and started on the back of his legs.
Once done, I asked Francois to turn and again lean with his back against the wall. Thankfully, by this time my cock had become slightly more obedient. I again began to work from top to bottom. After his arms, shoulders, chest, and stomach had been soaped, I skipped the genital region and completed the front of his legs.
When I thought I was finished and was about to turn the water back on, he asked, “What about my crotch, bro.”
Gingerly, I began to soap his dick and balls. There was a definite expansion that took place while I performed this task, and my heart beat so fast that I thought I was about to have a heart attack. On a couple of occasions when the back of my hand brushed against his dick, I could’ve sworn that an electrical charge had emanated from his tool.
As his cock began to stiffen, he awkwardly said, “Whoa, Dave, you’d better stop, or there could be problems.”
Respectfully, I backed off, devastated as I looked at his magnificent erect knob. By now, a piss slit parenthesized by a purple dick-head had begun to peep out of the unfurled dark foreskin.
Francois turned again and after again supporting himself against the wall, I opened the faucets and let the water run over his body for a final rinsing.
Next, I retrieved a towel and commenced drying him off. Having completed drying his back, Francois turned once more and I began towelling the front of his body. Saving the best for last, when I got to his crotch I rubbed his cock and balls vigorously. Through the towel, I could feel his rock-hard knob.
“You’d… better stop, Dave,” he uttered, in a horny stammer.
Oh fuck, I thought, I’d give up my eyeteeth to suck this knob right now.
With a look of lusty angst, he then said, “Let me sit on the built-in seat while you dry yourself.”
After towelling off quickly we were soon on our way to the lounge with his arm around my shoulder. I hastily retrieved the sleeping bag and two pillows, before helping him settle down for the night. Francois dozed off immediately as I cleared the glasses and ashtrays from the lounge. I then stood looking at him as he slept, mentally chastising myself for getting all worked up over a drunken straight guy.
In bed, I began to toy with myself, recalling every detail of the shower episode. I was so excited at this point that I shot my load within minutes. Sleep did not come easily as I tossed and turned with frustration, but thankfully, I finally drifted off.
Although Francois was up at five every morning during the week, on weekends he got to take things a little easier. When I got up at seven, I made him a greasy breakfast to help him with his hangover. After he climbed out of the sleeping bag with a morning glory majestically protruding from the front of him, he joined me at the dining table. It began to feel like my agony would never end. Shortly after breakfast, he left, thanking me profusely for my hospitality.
I was afraid that after our shower scenario, Francois might shun me in the future. This, however, was not the case and when I saw him at the bar again, things between us were perfectly normal. Of course, the cigarette bumming also continued and over the next few weeks I encountered him regularly.
Three weeks later, on a Saturday evening, Francois appeared at my door once more. Smiling and holding two packets of cigarettes in his hands, he said that one was for me and the other was to ensure that he wouldn’t have to bum smokes off me that evening.
Francois had not been to the bar earlier that evening and was totally sober. When he made himself comfortable in my lounge, I realized that he had arrived for an extended visit. After I poured drinks for the two of us, I joined him in the lounge.
That evening, Francois engaged me more in conversation more extensively than ever before. He told his entire family history and how important it was that he had to continue the family lineage. His great-grandfather had started their farming business and it was up to him to ensure its continuity. Francois also openly spoke about his relationship with Rochelle. I was stunned by his old-fashioned and misogynistic attitude toward his girlfriend. He had no doubt that he would marry her in a year or two and hoped his sons would have his brains and her good looks. His parents fortunately approved of her, and she was apparently a good cook.
As I suspected, they were having a sexual relationship, but he told me she was very shy and unadventurous in the bedroom. Strangely, rather than bother him, he apparently approved of this behaviour.
“The woman I marry mustn’t be a whore in the bedroom, that would be unseemly,” he stated.
There was another girl in a nearby town that he had fucked from time to time, but sadly she had become permanently involved and so that door was now closed to him. She had been into oral, anal, and ‘anything goes,’ as he put it. But to do so with his possible future wife, according to him, would be inappropriate. I was totally gobsmacked by this misogynistic reasoning.
As we chatted endlessly, Francois’ drinking was far more controlled than normal. At around ten o’clock he asked if I still had the sleeping bag. Even though he was perfectly capable of driving, I nonetheless, said that he was welcome to use it again.
“Cool, then I suppose, it’s time for my ‘shower’,” he stated, with an impish look on his face.
When we got to the bedroom, Francois moved toward a chair I had in the corner and started stripping.
“Mind if I leave my clothing here?” he asked.
“No, not at all, that’s what it’s there for,” I replied.
“So, what are you waiting for, Dave?” he then asked.
After I moved over and also commenced removing my clothes, once we were both naked I was surprised to see his cock fully erect.
“Are you also going to clean my dick again, Dave?” he asked, with a naughty look in his eyes. Speechless, I simply shrugged.
“I don’t suppose you want soap in your mouth?” he suggested.
“Huh?” was all I could muster, with a surprised look on my face.
“Last time I was far too drunk to enjoy a good crotch service, but this time I won’t waste the opportunity,” he said, as his hands pushed down heavily on my shoulders.
‘Jesus,’ I thought,’ is this really happening?’
After I knelt before him I was about to grab for his cock when he said, “Put your hands at your sides and keep your mouth shut, I don’t like greedy people.” After a short pause, he then continued, “From here on, I make the rules and you obey, are we clear on that?” To which I simply nodded.
A protracted cock-teasing episode now began as Francois began tracing all my features with the front of his snout. My eyes, lips, cheeks, forehead, and nose got tickled by his overhang. As Francois excitement grew, precum began to ooze from the snout, leaving a trail of slime in its wake. After a few minutes of this ‘torment,’ he put the front of his dick under my nostrils. Francois now began to slowly pull his foreskin back. As the snout began to unfurl it reminded me of a sea anemone, and I couldn’t wait for my tongue to be the clownfish playing in the folds.
When the dusky purple dick-head began to emerge, a delicious essence assailed my nostrils, and when the glans was revealed in its full glory, my lips were twitching with anticipation. Francois now began to smear his knob-head all over my top lip, while I imbibed its wonderful fragrance. Moving his body back slightly and leaning against the wall, I watched as the head disappeared back into its sheath as the snout once more shut the door on its prisoner.
“Now open your mouth Mister Greedy, but no tongue. Do you understand me?” he ordered.
After nodding my head I thought about the poor deprived clownfish in my mouth. At glacial pace, Francois’ dick now began to enter my mouth. Having retracted my tongue as far back as possible, I wondered what would happen once Francois’ knob hit the obstruction. When it finally did, he simply instructed me to flatten my tongue and at last, I got to taste his cock. As Francois knob began to nudge the opening at the back of my throat I felt his grip on my head tighten.
“We’re going all the way, Dave, so you’d better relax your throat muscles,” he informed me.
Being a cock sucker of note, I swallowed as his knob went balls deep. Francois then employed a leisurely pace as he commenced skull-fucking me. His approving groans left me in no doubt that my oral skills were wholeheartedly being enjoyed. I luxuriated in the jungle of fur surrounding my face as my mouth got comprehensively fucked, and for good measure my right hand began fondling his ample nuts.
After a while, he said, “Let’s go back to the bedroom. I want you lie on the bed with your head over the edge so I can skull-fuck you properly.”
Once in position, I watched his upside down form approaching me. When my mouth opened for him he first pushed one of his balls into my mouth. With my nose nestled in his butt crack and inhaling his sweaty essence, my lips and tongue went into overdrive on his nuts. Francois now departed from his former measured reserve and began grunting, and panting like an animal. No longer able to restrain himself he retracted his nut-sac and hammered his cock back into my throat.
As he began to grunt a short while later, his spunk started bubbling out of his foreskin in lumpy blobs. With him hovering above me he let me savour and lick his knob to my heart’s content. I was happy to forgo my own release, hoping that I would later be able to do so, if and when he fucked my arse.
“Fuck, Dave, that was the best blowjob I have ever had,” he said, as he collapsed on the bed next to me.
After a short while, I asked, “Do you want to shower now?”
“Nah,” he said. “In fact, I also won’t need your sleeping bag tonight,” he concluded.
I just remained silent figuring that the straight boy had cum and had his pleasure. As I reckoned that all he wanted to do now was to fuck off as soon as possible, he got up off the bed and said, “I kinda figure… that with all of sweating still ahead of us, we may as well wait till morning to shower,”
Next, he lifted the side of the duvet and got into my bed. Totally floored, I simply followed suit.
In a night of surprises, the next one was probably the biggest. Being a bi-curious, essentially straight boy, I could accept that a blowjob or even a butt fucking could occur, but when he leaned over and began kissing me, I was totally blown away. And fuck… could this guy kiss! The sensuality and tenderness of his embrace was overwhelming.
We went on and on for what seemed like an age, before he finally encouraged me to turn onto my stomach. Francois range of pace and sexual positions was exceptional. Slow, fast, hard, gentle, on my back, on my side, doggy style, then on my stomach again.
We both shot our loads a further three times that night and for good measure, a few more skull-fucks were also added into the repertoire. The fermentation of his ever-escalating manly odour almost made me convulse with pleasure.
Over the next year, we enjoyed our get-togethers every three to four weeks. Naturally, we did not want to raise suspicion or get tongues wagging in the village. A year later, when he finally married Rochelle our antics sadly ended. We always remained cordial but alas, hope as I may, his pickup never again stopped by my place.
Incidentally, we both also gave up smoking.
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