Nice was not a place for the poor. And we, my wife Anne and I, were poor. We were backpacking across Europe on a shoestring budget. Nice was a beautiful city, but it was designed for those with money to spend. We spent the morning in the sun drenched courtyard of the youth hostel and plotted our escape to cheaper climates.
As we sat there a man ran up to use with a friendly greeting. We had first met Scott at the hostel in Marseille. Today he was returning from a trip to Monaco. He seemed desperately lonely as he raved to us about how excellent, friendly and spotlessly clean Monaco had been. Of all the people we’d met on our honeymoon, Scott seemed the most ill-suited to the life of a backpacker. Nothing, outside of Monaco, had lived up to his expectations and he complained about every person he’d met. Which was strange, since almost everyone we’d met had been extremely friendly.
The entire purpose of Scott’s trip, as far as we could tell, was to meet women who were away from home for the first time in their lives, free from all taboos and all supervision. He planned to guide these naïve young women into every aspect of their sexuality. He was failing miserably, since his only approach was to tell the women exactly that.
Despite all that he was actually quite fun to be around. He evidently viewed Anne as off limits, so he made no attempt to pick her up. Instead he treated her as an old friend, the same as me. He suggested that we head into Old Nice and just walk around. The old town was like a medieval village. It was full of life and our poverty didn’t sting so much there. Scott proved to be an engaging companion as he regaled us with tales of his romantic failures through most of Europe. He had a comedic flare that made even his most bitter rejection entertaining.
We went into a convenience store to grab the cheapest possible dinner, but Scott stopped us. He wanted something better. We explained our money situation and he insisted that he buy us dinner. Since he was failing to get laid, as he put it, he wanted to celebrate the success of friendship.
Scott chose a nice pizza place and we passed a very pleasant meal as the sun set. Wine flowed freely and before long we were all pretty tipsy. The long walk back, especially drunk, seemed very daunting, so we stayed and drank more. Scott tried to maintain his cheerfulness, but as the evening got dark he got quieter and more melancholy. Eventually we packed up to go. We each bought our own bottle of wine and started to walk to the hostel.
Scott regained some of his cheerfulness and walked a bit ahead of us. He broke into song and walked down a cobblestone alleyway, bottle held high. He was not a good singer. I let him get a little ahead of us then pulled Anne close. She stumbled over to me. We put our heads together and whispered like drunken conspirators.
“Anne.” I whispered. “I want you to suck Scott’s dick.”
“I know.” She whispered back. Her words were slurred. “He’s so lonely. And he’s nice. He just a big doufus.”
“So you’re gonna?” I whispered.
“Yes. Keep watch.” Anne skipped ahead and caught up with Scott. She tapped him on the shoulder. He stopped singing and looked at her. She aggressively grabbed his head and kissed him. He was taken aback.
“You are very nice.” Anne told him. “I don’t want your whole trip to be a waste. I wanna suck your dick.” I caught up just then. I gave Scott a grin and a thumbs up, before drinking more of my wine.
“OK.” He smiled. “Let’s get back to the hostel!”
“Nope!” Anne replied. “Right here.” She pushed him against a wall and kissed him again. Scott looked nervous. The alley was deserted but it wasn’t far from the busy waterfront. Anne didn’t give him a lot of time to think about it. Even as she kissed him she unbuckled his belt. She knelt on the cobblestones and pulled his pants to his knees. His cock sprang out already rock hard. Anne grasped him and he moaned.
Anne took a huge swig of wine and placed the bottle on the cobblestones next to her. She opened her mouth. Then she looked at me, smiled and said, “I love you.”
She bent, and put Scott’s penis in her mouth, and tasted him. Scott groaned and thrust forward. She didn’t stop him. She let him fuck her soft lips. He was urgent against her. Suddenly Anne pressed forward, taking him as deep as he would go. She gagged a little but tried to push even deeper. Then she slid him out, and looked up at him, and said, “Don’t come too quick, okay? Make it last.”
He nodded, and stroked her face. She went back down, sucked a bit longer, tasting him, bobbing her head. He put his hands in her hair, holding her tightly. Controlling her speed. He start slow, but picked up speed quickly. He fucked her face, hard, until she held up a hand to stop him. She pulled way. Saliva and cum connected her lips to his cock. She took a ragged breath.
She rubbed his cock on her face, licked the length of it and smiled up at him. She was performing for Scott, and for me. She wanted this to be the best blowjob Scott had ever had and dirty memory for me to masturbate to forever.
She drank more wine and repeated her actions, letting him fuck her face as hard and as fast as he wanted until she couldn’t take it. She stopped him, pulled away and had more wine.
She took Scott in again, just held him in her mouth, suckling gently, kneeling there. She picked up speed, going faster and faster. Harder and harder. Drool was dripping down her chin. She gagged but kept going.
Suddenly Scott twitched. Anne pulled him out of her mouth. She never did that. Anne always swallowed.
But this time she grabbed his cock as he came. Scott burst on her face, coating her cheek and lips. She rubbed his cock against her face as he came again and again, painting her face with his sperm. As his surges died she took him back into her mouth and sucked him until he want soft and slid from her lips. She looked at me with her sperm covered face and smiled. She braced against Scott and he helped her to her feet. Her knees were very dirty.
She swigged her wine again and said.
“This way.” We followed her back towards the busy waterfront. She tried to stay hidden, but occasionally the street lights hit her cum covered face. I don’t know if anyone noticed her. She raced across the busy main road and down to the dark beach. We caught up with her as she scrubbed her face in the cold Mediterranean. She threw her arms around me and kissed me. I could taste salt on her lips, whether Scott or the sea I didn’t know. She kissed Scott right after.
“OK guys, I’m drunk. Take me home.”
We hailed a cab. Scott paid.
[The Chronology of Anne and I](https://old.reddit.com/user/LordUnderTheMountain/comments/tt882t/the_chronology_of_anne_and_i/)