Summer 98 (m/f)
Posted: Fri Jul 26, 2024 8:51 am
Summer 98 - Somewhere in the french Alps
Summer 98. My parents had been divorced for a few years and, for the first time, we were going to the mountains with my mother. She had spotted a small resort that seemed to have a good reputation and where there was a sort of teen club. A meeting place for young people, with activities on offer and a leader. In short, it's the ideal place for those who don't want to spend the day with their parents during the holidays, which is just as well because that's exactly what I want. to do.
Not that relations with my mother were bad, far from it. It's just that, at almost 16 (and I'm being deliberately evasive here), I want to be with other teenagers more than I want to be with her, which she more or less understands. It didn't take either of us very long to find groups to fit in with, so very soon we were only seeing each other in our bedroom. It was a good group, by the way. Not too big, not too small, just the right size. Young people from all over France, aged 13 to 17. Good atmosphere, good jokes and a very friendly leader who organised activities adapted to our age, such as sports games, hikes and other activities. And above all, he managed to convince the resort management to give us access to a secluded room just for us, with a table and a few sofas, which we could join at any time. Paradise!
So it was in this room that we often got together as teenagers. To see each other, chat, exchange ideas, talk to each other and remake the world until the end of the night, until the end of our lives. We talked about this world, our lives, our plans and desires, with happiness and simplicity. And then, of course, there are those glances, sometimes hidden, sometimes open. Those smiles, those grazing hands, those lingering eyes. Learning to seek out others, to understand them, to seduce them.
I don't necessarily take part in this little game. I'm not in a relationship and don't necessarily want to be. I'm not saying that I'm not looking to please, but these holidays are above all a breath of oxygen, a real breath of fresh air. And, in any case, with my six foot, brown hair and blue eyes, I'm not necessarily the one to attract attention... except from one. Eric, a tall, dark-haired 17 and a half year old, funny, playful, who never seems to stop laughing or joking and is always looking for a reason to sit next to me, to put his hand on my shoulder. To give me a hug. To accompany me and make me laugh. And I have to admit, I'm not indifferent. Not demanding, no. I'm just not indifferent to these shy interactions, full of the unspoken things that make up the charm of this ephemeral story.
We both know that, whatever happens, it's not going to last, as the end of our holiday in this resort will also mark the end of our meeting, each of us living a few hundred kilometres away. Which perhaps explains why, instead of going for it, we don't dare. I don't go any further than holding him close to me during the slow dance and he doesn't seem to want to take that step, despite the opportunities I give him, suggest to him, consciously or not. But as I'm here to have fun first and foremost, it would be stupid not to take advantage of it. And that's what I do in the middle of the holidays, on an evening when a few of us have stayed in our den, in our room, to spend quality time together.
I can't remember exactly how it all came about, but here we are, playing Truth or Dare. The questions, shy at first, started to become a little more daring. A little more detailed. We take advantage of these exchanges to compare our respective stories and experiences and, in the course of a question about the unusual things we like to do, I slip in that I like rope games and being tied up. I quickly recount what may have happened earlier in my youth, some amusing, childish, innocent episodes. And I see smiles all around me. No shame or embarrassment, but rather a silent resolution that takes shape, almost without my knowing it. With Eric leading the way.
And of course, as I almost looked for it, there's no shortage of it. In the next round, he chooses to ask me the ritual question, to which, without thinking too hard, I choose to answer DARE. I see him look at me intensely and then ask me to close my eyes.
I vaguely suspected some kind of trap, but trusting these people to be my friends, I smiled and closed my eyes. All around me I hear some commotion, some hushed whispers. A scarf is slipped over my eyes, ‘to make sure I don't see anything’, I'm told. Then someone creeps up behind me and gently grabs my hands, bringing them behind my back so that they are crossed. The way he does it, almost caressing my arms as he does so, I recognise Eric and a shiver goes down my spine. I take advantage of this contact to squeeze his hands with mine, before a shoelace borrowed from the room begins to wrap itself horizontally then vertically around my wrists, little by little, without hurrying. The last knot is tight, just like that, but it's enough to prevent me from freeing myself. I move my hands gently, really enjoying this position and this contact on my skin, this feeling of being trapped, of not being able to move. I then feel Eric move past me and grab my legs, which he stretches out in front of me. Here too, I'm guessing more than seeing what's going on. He seems to be asking someone something. Another pair of laces, which he tightens to tie my ankles, wrapping the tie around them before passing the end between them and tying the whole thing.
Once my hands and ankles are tied, the blindfold is removed and I see everyone laughing and applauding Eric, who seems very proud of his performance. As I gently wriggle out of my restraints, I thank him with a look that must say a lot, because instead of going back to his seat, he sits behind me and hugs me.
I didn't try to free myself for the next half hour. The game went on as before and in the end it was the call of sleep that concluded our evening. I was released and the laces were returned to their rightful owner. Once again, despite our proximity, nothing happened between us that evening. Just a slightly harder peck on one cheek and two hands parting as if with regret. It wasn't until the last evening, the last night, in the heart of a smoky disco, that we finally found the courage to open our hearts to each other... which is another story!
Summer 98. My parents had been divorced for a few years and, for the first time, we were going to the mountains with my mother. She had spotted a small resort that seemed to have a good reputation and where there was a sort of teen club. A meeting place for young people, with activities on offer and a leader. In short, it's the ideal place for those who don't want to spend the day with their parents during the holidays, which is just as well because that's exactly what I want. to do.
Not that relations with my mother were bad, far from it. It's just that, at almost 16 (and I'm being deliberately evasive here), I want to be with other teenagers more than I want to be with her, which she more or less understands. It didn't take either of us very long to find groups to fit in with, so very soon we were only seeing each other in our bedroom. It was a good group, by the way. Not too big, not too small, just the right size. Young people from all over France, aged 13 to 17. Good atmosphere, good jokes and a very friendly leader who organised activities adapted to our age, such as sports games, hikes and other activities. And above all, he managed to convince the resort management to give us access to a secluded room just for us, with a table and a few sofas, which we could join at any time. Paradise!
So it was in this room that we often got together as teenagers. To see each other, chat, exchange ideas, talk to each other and remake the world until the end of the night, until the end of our lives. We talked about this world, our lives, our plans and desires, with happiness and simplicity. And then, of course, there are those glances, sometimes hidden, sometimes open. Those smiles, those grazing hands, those lingering eyes. Learning to seek out others, to understand them, to seduce them.
I don't necessarily take part in this little game. I'm not in a relationship and don't necessarily want to be. I'm not saying that I'm not looking to please, but these holidays are above all a breath of oxygen, a real breath of fresh air. And, in any case, with my six foot, brown hair and blue eyes, I'm not necessarily the one to attract attention... except from one. Eric, a tall, dark-haired 17 and a half year old, funny, playful, who never seems to stop laughing or joking and is always looking for a reason to sit next to me, to put his hand on my shoulder. To give me a hug. To accompany me and make me laugh. And I have to admit, I'm not indifferent. Not demanding, no. I'm just not indifferent to these shy interactions, full of the unspoken things that make up the charm of this ephemeral story.
We both know that, whatever happens, it's not going to last, as the end of our holiday in this resort will also mark the end of our meeting, each of us living a few hundred kilometres away. Which perhaps explains why, instead of going for it, we don't dare. I don't go any further than holding him close to me during the slow dance and he doesn't seem to want to take that step, despite the opportunities I give him, suggest to him, consciously or not. But as I'm here to have fun first and foremost, it would be stupid not to take advantage of it. And that's what I do in the middle of the holidays, on an evening when a few of us have stayed in our den, in our room, to spend quality time together.
I can't remember exactly how it all came about, but here we are, playing Truth or Dare. The questions, shy at first, started to become a little more daring. A little more detailed. We take advantage of these exchanges to compare our respective stories and experiences and, in the course of a question about the unusual things we like to do, I slip in that I like rope games and being tied up. I quickly recount what may have happened earlier in my youth, some amusing, childish, innocent episodes. And I see smiles all around me. No shame or embarrassment, but rather a silent resolution that takes shape, almost without my knowing it. With Eric leading the way.
And of course, as I almost looked for it, there's no shortage of it. In the next round, he chooses to ask me the ritual question, to which, without thinking too hard, I choose to answer DARE. I see him look at me intensely and then ask me to close my eyes.
I vaguely suspected some kind of trap, but trusting these people to be my friends, I smiled and closed my eyes. All around me I hear some commotion, some hushed whispers. A scarf is slipped over my eyes, ‘to make sure I don't see anything’, I'm told. Then someone creeps up behind me and gently grabs my hands, bringing them behind my back so that they are crossed. The way he does it, almost caressing my arms as he does so, I recognise Eric and a shiver goes down my spine. I take advantage of this contact to squeeze his hands with mine, before a shoelace borrowed from the room begins to wrap itself horizontally then vertically around my wrists, little by little, without hurrying. The last knot is tight, just like that, but it's enough to prevent me from freeing myself. I move my hands gently, really enjoying this position and this contact on my skin, this feeling of being trapped, of not being able to move. I then feel Eric move past me and grab my legs, which he stretches out in front of me. Here too, I'm guessing more than seeing what's going on. He seems to be asking someone something. Another pair of laces, which he tightens to tie my ankles, wrapping the tie around them before passing the end between them and tying the whole thing.
Once my hands and ankles are tied, the blindfold is removed and I see everyone laughing and applauding Eric, who seems very proud of his performance. As I gently wriggle out of my restraints, I thank him with a look that must say a lot, because instead of going back to his seat, he sits behind me and hugs me.
I didn't try to free myself for the next half hour. The game went on as before and in the end it was the call of sleep that concluded our evening. I was released and the laces were returned to their rightful owner. Once again, despite our proximity, nothing happened between us that evening. Just a slightly harder peck on one cheek and two hands parting as if with regret. It wasn't until the last evening, the last night, in the heart of a smoky disco, that we finally found the courage to open our hearts to each other... which is another story!