July, the Tour de France! Today, Tuesday, July 8, 2020, the Tour de France is passing just a few kilometers from home. I decided to go, and the best spot is the Côte de la Poterie, with its steep gradient. To make sure my wife didn't come with me, I told her we'd have to walk, which is almost six kilometers each way. Naturally, she doesn't want to come. I packed my backpack the day before, with a small blanket, drinks, and snacks. I prefer to leave early so I can choose my spot. After a good walk, I arrive at the aforementioned hill. There are already quite a few people, so I decide to go further down. Naturally, the further I go, the fewer people there are, but I have to climb a steep slope to find a higher seat. There, I'm in position. Given the difficult access, I don't think I'll have any trouble! I set up my spot; with my blanket, I'll be comfortable! I packed four beers in my cooler bag; they'd been in the fridge overnight, so they'll stay nice and cold! I decided to eat a sandwich and open a beer. As for the caravan, I didn't expect to find much. I'd barely finished my "lunch" when I heard someone approaching from behind me. A man had managed to reach my spot through the woods. "Hello! Am I disturbing you? Do you mind if I set up camp here? I'd spotted this place. I live on the edge of the woods." I can't object to his coming; it's not a private matter. While answering him, I quickly give him a once-over. He's a man who looks to be in his fifties, muscular and tanned, wearing baggy khaki shorts. Like me, he's setting up his little corner near my seat. His backpack is bigger than mine; it's true, he's more built than me. He sits down next to me and immediately starts talking. He's friendly and offers me an aperitif. Surprised, I ask him to repeat it! He pulls a three-quarters full bottle of whiskey out of his bag, laughing, and says, "You don't go to war without ammunition!" We laugh! He pours two glasses and adds a can of Coke. He tells me about himself: he's 54 years old and his name is "Gilles." He's lived alone since his divorce. "And you, are you married?" "Yes, for thirty years now, I just turned 57, I have two children! I'm François." "How's it going with your wife? Are you still sleeping with her after 30 years?" Initially surprised by his question, and after hesitating, I take out my phone and show him a picture of my wife. "Ah yes! Nice one! She looks hot!" I swallow the bottom of my glass before answering him. "Yes, she likes to have sex! But it's true that things change with time!" I laugh as I answer him, and I realize I'm getting an erection! Without saying anything, he takes my glass and pours us another good shot. He hands me my glass, saying, "Cheers, the main thing is that it's good!" It's funny, I like Gilles! My second whisky, the sun, the fatigue, I feel tipsy. He has to stay for an hour and a half before the cyclists pass, so I lie down and stretch. A short while later, Gilles lies down next to me. How funny, I came to watch the Tour and I find myself lying with a man! Suddenly, with my eyes closed, I feel his hand running over my body. It's now under my shirt, caressing my lower stomach. I don't say anything, I exhale, and as if drawn in, I begin exploring my neighbor's form. My hand goes straight to his crotch where I discover an erect penis, too tightly squeezed in his shorts. I unbutton them and pull them down. Now all I have to do is explore it! Erect before me, his cock awaits. His large, exposed glans is offered to me, and I take it in my mouth. He fills it. My tongue wraps around his member, caressing his glans and eagerly searching for his sensitive spots! "Turn around! I want your cock too!" I turn around and position myself in a 69 position afte ...

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