France, huh, yeah, what are you good for....
February, 1995. My mum and step dad were going bankrupt, but as a last hurrah, bought a house in France, declared it as a present to my sister and basically legged it across the channel.

I was just finishing my A-Levels and a summer of sex, beer and music festivals ensued. My mum then plays the guilt card ( the one thing ALL mums are experts at) and I end up over in France helping build a swimming pool so they can open a B&B.

After a week, I ask when I'm booked on the ferry to go. "Oh, the Sunday before the start of college". 4 weeks away. Fair enough, I've been pissed most nights but they live in a tiny village, no women my age. I want to get home. I need sex, free love and more importantly a cheeseburger.

Enter into my life Christine. She's about 28, speaks perfect English, has a young daughter and loves English men. Loves them. Including me.

The next two weeks I worked on the pool during the day, ate tea, then "went to the bar to play pool". Okay, the bar was Christine's very rural house and play pool was for her to shag me senseless. It was amazing. I mean, I had sex before but this was unbelievable. ANd before you ask, the little girl stayed around at her grandparents a lot in those two weeks.

She then makes the holiday even better by saying she's visiting Nottingham for a wedding and would I like a lift back to Angleterre. So, I tell my mum and off she goes, still none the wiser!

We ended our little affair with sex on the ferry, at the wedding and then at her friends house in Nottingham. Brilliant family holiday.
(gjb006, Fri 3 Aug 2007, 11:51, Reply)