When in Paris E1 | Foreigners are a lot more loose with their bodies (Patreon)

Everyone is over the age of 18

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“I'll be fine, mom.” I hugged her again. “I really have to go now.” 

This is what I'm supposed to do right? Take a gap year after school to travel the world before working in a cubicle for the rest of my life? 

I told myself one year, but I can always come home earlier if things don't work out. What could go wrong anyway? 

Lose my passport… malaria… food poisoning… 

I blocked those thoughts out of my mind before waving another goodbye to my family. I've never been away from them for more than a week. 

I can do this… I can do this… I can do this… I repeat to myself as I follow the security check line up. That passes by smoothly and I start walking through the gate. 

It's not my first time flying, just my first time alone. I suppose nobody loves the airport but I have always found it interesting. I mean, everyone's going somewhere. Some of them have been waiting for a while and some of them are coming home. There's probably at least a good handful of people like me, on their first solo trip of their lives. 

And everyone's dressed so differently to do the same thing. Of course, the flight attendants and pilots are something else, but I've always laughed at how some people look like they rolled straight out of bed and how others look like they've come from a fashion show. I've always wondered if the stylish people have travelled so much that they're just comfortable in shoes like that. 

I kept it pretty classic. I didn't want to arrive in Paris in sweats, so I wore my most comfortable jeans. Still, it's a 10 hour flight so I figured French people wouldn't put me on blast for wearing a t-shirt. 

I'm going to be hopping from country to country, hostel to hostel, so I tried to pack light. However, I still ended up with a checked bag, a carry-on and a backpack. Already, rolling my carry-on through the airport, I wonder if I've made the wrong decision. 

I mean, that guy with the nice hair in front has the same kind of luggage. And he’s got fancy shoes like he travels a lot.

“Oh hey!” I say as I see something drop from his pocket. “Hey!” I walk faster, pick up his passport, and then have to jog awkwardly with my things to catch up to him. He must have his earbuds in. I tap him on the shoulder once I'm close enough. 

“Hello?” He looks at the passport in my hand that I'm waving.

“You dropped this.” 

“Ah, thank you. I'm going to need this.” Something about the way he says the word you gave away that he’s not American.  Well, his passport didn’t look the same as mine either. I’ve done enough Duolingo in preparation for this trip that I knew it was a French passport. 

“De rien,” I say awkwardly and he stares at me awkwardly. 

“Ah! You are going to France, right? Let me guess, Paris?” 

“Yeah.” I feel a little dejected that he didn’t quite understand my French, and then shrug it off. “Yeah, first time.”

“Bah, bienvenue,” he says with a little wink while checking out my outfit. “I think we should be on the same plane.” 

“Gate 43?” I ask while looking for the signs. I was counting them well before he dropped his wallet. 

“Yes, that’s it.” We start walking towards the gate together, and he introduces himself. “I am Mathieu, and you?” 

“James.” I shake his hand firmly. 

“You said first time to France? You live the James in Paris show?” His blue eyes glimmer at me. 

“No, well, maybe a little.” I shrug. “I’m just taking a gap year to travel.” 

“What is a gap year?” Mathieu cocks his head to the side. The way he has his facial hair well groomed makes me feel a little self-conscious. Every hair has its place.

 “Oh, it’s like when you take one year to travel to Europe to see what’s out there?” 

“Ah. And what do you think you will find?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. The meaning of life, maybe.”

“It won’t be found in Paris.” Mathieu laughs. He says Paris with the French pronunciation despite the English in the rest of his sentence. 

“Maybe in India then.” I check my watch before looking up at the signs again. “Hey sorry, do you mind watching my stuff for a second while I go to the bathroom?”

“Actually, I must go too. We go together, like the girls.” He winks at me and we roll our luggage to the bathroom together. 

It’s surprisingly empty and clean in there, like the cleaners had just passed by. I place myself at the end row of the urinals, keeping my carry-on just beside me. I know the pickpockets are supposed to be in Paris, but I figured this is a good habit to start having. 

Whoa. I involuntarily freeze as Mathieu goes to the urinal right beside me. 

“I have been taking a gap year too. The worst part was not having someone watch your stuff when you need to,” he says casually as he unzips his pants and shakes his hair back. 

This can’t be how they do it in France, can it?

I look straight forward as I hold my dick in my hands, unable to pee with the pressure of this stranger talking to me. 

”You are circumcised." 

Huh?! I blink hard. Did I hear right? I look at him and he’s clearly looking at my dick. 

“I heard that Americans are circumcised. Not as common en France.” He puckers his lips downwards, and I’m drawn to look at his organ. 

I’ve never seen an uncut dick in real life before. Hold up — I’ve never seen another dick in person point blank. I don’t make it a habit of looking at them in bathroom situations like this.

I think he would be considered a shower. If he was a grower, I might be a little concerned. The hood covers the head completely, masking the mushroom shape that I’m used to seeing on mine. 

“It’s the same. Just with a prepuce,” Mathieu says, as he’s reading my thoughts. He slides the skin down, revealing a moist looking tip. “It makes it easy to…” He moves the skin up and down rapidly, showing me what he couldn’t express with words. 

“Yeah, I see that…”  I get caught off guard as a stream starts coming out of the half-covered head. 

“You don't have envy to pee?” 

I can’t seem to get my body to relax enough with him so close to me. 

“All Américains are very closed?” Mathieu shakes himself off. “It is just euh… foreskin. It is very helpful.” Although he’s done, he doesn’t pull up his pants. 

Instead, he stays there, and I stay frozen with my dick in my hands. I know what he's doing from just the familiar motion from the corner of my eye. But I can’t believe it. 

And you know what they say, you have to see it to believe it. I found myself looking directly at what he’s doing. There, I saw a hardened version of his already large dick, with his fist moving the extra skin around freely. 

He’s not paying attention to me anymore. Instead, his eyes are closed with his head tilted slightly backwards. I could almost see a fantasy playing out in his head, like every man does when he’s trying to rub one out quickly. 

And surely any guy recognizes when the male body is ready to unload. The body relaxes just as it knows that it’s about to get life’s most natural pleasure. 

“Putain…” Mathieu squints with his eyes closed, then looks directly down at his cock. He lets go, and we both watch as his cock starts bouncing in dramatic waves. 

“Whoa,” I breathe out as rapid and voluminous shots jet freely against the urinal wall. 

This was no normal cumshot. I mean, I never cum this much except this one time I tried and failed no-fap. 

It was splashing against the back of the urinal, ricocheting off to the curved sides. His cock was bouncing, whipping strings of cum, painting lines of goo from bottom to up before doing it again. 

Only when the 7-8 big shots were finished, he started jerking again, and weaker but still impressive pulses dropped directly into the water at the bottom of the porcelain structure. 

“Much better.” He shakes himself off again, then pulls his foreskin back to clean off the head. “How I arrive to do this but you still can not empty your bladder?” Mathieu says with a smile and then zips up his pants. “They will be boarding soon.”

“Yeah,” I say with a dry throat. 

“Bah, bon voyage alors. I’ll see you on board.” He backs up and the urinal flushes away the evidence of what he’s just done. 

I hoped he didn’t see, but there was even less of a chance that I can pee now with a semi-boner.