Élodie – my French neighbour

Élodie (short chapters) – Slow burner

Imagine being a young, male virgin, and thank God, you finally stopped growing just before you got to 2 m (6.6 ft). In Spain, in those days, being too tall was a serious problem. You wouldn't find anything to wear. I and two other friends of mine, both foreigners as well, would skip school once a month on the last Thursday, because that was the delivery day at a certain small store selling size XL. But they only had 1 or 2 pieces each time. So we had to fight for it and be there before the other 2.

You would get no Spanish girlfriend because the girls were so small and everybody in that small town would stare at you.

But, a good sign of God was that your father showed you how to do push-ups, pull-ups, sit-ups, running, etc. at a very young age, so you did not merely grow upwards without any muscle like a beanpole and had at least a minimum of “build.”

The next luxury for an 18-year-old would be to have a 21-year-old neighbor’s gorgeous daughter looking like as if she popped out of a horny teenager’s movie. She really could have been a true Penthouse pet. No joke.

And now comes my true nightmare:

I didn’t have a single clue what to do with her. I had not even kissed a girl, ever. Me, a 100% real virgin.

And it gets worse. Let me explain the “settings.”

She lived, when on vacation in Spain (yes, I lived in Spain those days), in the holiday house on the other side of the road, opposite our property, and she was the daughter of a French criminal from Marseille, from his first marriage. The house was owned by both this criminal and his best friend; their friendship went way back, all the way to even before high school.

Just a little detail is missing here: his best friend was the chief of police in Marseille. Now back home, they would be enemies, but in their holiday house, friends.

Amazing.

No, I do not make this up. The daughter is real, the friendship/rivalry of those two friends is real, and the whole thing is real. My cluelessness with girls was real too, to my regret.

I got connected to them because they had a swimming pool and we didn’t. Besides that, the criminal had a son my age, and that's how I got in touch with them, because as young kids do, you are easy on getting new friends. So, whenever the criminal was there with his son and daughter, plus a hot woman he had (I don’t know if she was his second wife or just his girlfriend), I would go and hit the pool with his son, Anthony.

I would sometimes see his big sister sunbathing; I always said hello politely, but that was all. I am baffled, as I write this, that I do remember his name but not hers. Let's call her Élodie, but like I said, I don’t remember what her name was. Now my friendship with Anthony started earlier, when I was thirteen, but in those days Élodie wasn’t interested in me.

A year later, in the next August vacation, for the first time, she noticed me. And started teasing me to see what my reactions would be. Well, I really had no clue what to do with her seduction hints. Or with any girl/woman at all. A little thing I discovered much later is that my old dark yellow swimming trunks, with little creases, didn’t hide much of my male contents. Especially not when I was excited due to her flirting. The worst thing about it is that I didn’t even notice I had a hard-on. But she did.

Her flirting would start very subtle in the beginning, but day after day she had to get bolder to somehow find any reaction on my part. I mean, she was there the entire month of August, but still, you want to have some progress, right?

The first flirt that I can remember she did with me, for like half an hour, was the bikini flirt. In those days, girls didn’t wear tangas. Perhaps already in Brazil, but in Europe, not much.

Oh, one more detail: before Spain, we lived for a year in France, and with that, plus the private French language lessons I got and school, my French was OK. Because we always spoke in French, that’s why.

“Do you like my bikini?” Élodie asked me directly, looking at me as I was at the poolside with Anthony, and she was lying on a sun lounger.

“Eh, yes.” I could only stutter.

“Do you like pink?” She asked.

“It’s OK, yes.”

“If you don’t like the color, I can take it off.”

“No, I think it’s OK.”

“I don’t mind going topless, you know?”

I swallowed my own saliva, even if my throat was as dry as the desert. I didn’t know how to react.

“Have you ever been on a nudist beach?”

“No.”

“Don’t you like to go completely naked?”

“I don’t know.”

Right then, I noticed for the first time that Anthony was getting jealous because he had to share me with his older sister. He said something in an angry tone and went inside the house.

“Now we are all alone," Élodie commented. “Do you like being alone with me?”

“It’s OK.” I answered, not knowing where to look. So, I looked down at my feet.

“Come sit here with me.” She said, tapping on the other lounger, next to hers.

“OK.” And I sat there, not knowing what to do.

“I think my bikini top’s knot is loose; could you please check?” As she turned her back to me.

“No, it’s OK.” I said, not understanding why she would think this.

“But it feels so loose; could you please do the knot again?”

“OK.”

I stood up and got behind her, standing. I undid the knot and tied it up again, not trying anything. I did touch a bit of skin; it was incredibly soft. After that, I went back to my lounger and sat down again.

“No, I think it is still loose. But I can open it from the front too, look.” She said as she opened her bikini.

I could only look at my feet. But Élodie saw that my cock was rock hard. I didn’t even notice this.

She smiled and thought, imagine him getting so hard from tying my bikini knot. Even the tip is showing. And he doesn’t even realize this. Well, at least he likes girls; he just doesn’t know what to do. I can teach him, she thought. And he is not small either, as she looked at my tent.

I kept looking at my feet until she said that her top was back on. I still didn’t dare to look up again. I don’t know why. Afraid that her breasts were visible? I did like what she did, though. You know, that effect she had on me. It gave some kind of warm feeling, I guess.

“Is my bikini too small perhaps?”

“I think it is OK.”

“Sometimes the top feels too small for my boobs, you know. What do you think?” As she grabbed her bikini top, lifting her breasts with both hands.

“I don’t know.”

“Perhaps I should change into my underwear. What do you think? Would that be better?”

“Perhaps.” I replied, getting a red face.

“Stay here; I am going to change.”

“OK,” I said, looking at my feet.

To be continued.