Jet-lagged from the red-eye, I dragged my roller suitcase across the airport lobby. Beep of the keycard unlocked room 312 at the transit hotel. View of runways blinking in the night, planes roaring off. Anonymity hit hard—no one knew me here. Bored, I spotted a flyer: amateur choir rehearsal at the community hall, ten-minute shuttle away. Why not? Printed a Monteverdi score on the lobby printer.
Hall buzzed with middle-aged voices, baroque rhythms. Director, calm wizard, nailed dotted crotchets. Marie stood out. Mid-40s, petite, soft face, modest cleaner vibe but voice pure gold. Blouse button loose, lace bra teasing her small tits. My cock twitched during Bach. After last note, vestibule chatter. Forgot my score. Slipped back, dim lights on.
The Stopover
She was there. Fixed me, stepped close. Lips on mine, urgent. ‘Don’t leave me alone.’ Hesitated—wife back home, but this city’s rules? Pulled away, heart pounding. Shuttle back, corridor footsteps echoing, door clicked shut. Couldn’t sleep. Cock rock-hard, hand stroking slow. Her lace, kiss replayed. Edged but stopped, flight tomorrow.
Morning wood ached. Jerked in the shower, hot water pounding, imagining her. Dried off, checked phone. She’d slipped her number at rehearsal: ‘Help sort books? New place nearby. Robert, Magalie maybe.’ No others showed. Taxi buzzed, suitcase left at hotel. Her apartment block, sterile like a motel, city lights flickering outside.
She opened casual, jeans, white blouse buttoned proper. Thanks for help. Books stunned: Proust, Camus, Heidegger. Leaned to hand Bergson—blouse gaped, same lace. Caught me staring. ‘Wanna see more?’ Blushed. Lips crashed, tongues dancing wild. Hands roamed. Unbuttoned her, bra clasp popped. Small tits free, pale areolas, hard nipples. Pinched gentle. She ground on my bulge.
The Transit
Pulled to bedroom. Back on bed, arms back, tits arched. Zipped her jeans down, white lace panties off. Blonde bush, legs tight. Kissed deep, her hand freed my cock, stroked over briefs. Fingers found her wet slit, honey slick. ‘Yes.’ Thumbed her clit, she gasped.
Dropped lower, tongue on her pussy lips, lapped nectar. Tickled clit hood, hips bucked. Sighs like choir moans. She flipped me, lips wrapped my shaft. Tongue swirled glans, fretted frenulum, balls cupped. ‘Fuck, tender slut.’ Sucked deep, cheeks hollow. Held back, adagio slow.
Pushed her to knees, doggy. Cock slid her ass crack, she guided to cunt. Slammed in, soaked tight. Hand on tit, other spine stroke. She clenched, synced thrusts. Grunts, moans—raw duet. ‘Come!’ Vag spasmed, my balls tightened. Cum pulsed deep, synced explosion. Collapsed, kissed soft.
Post-fuck glow, no tristesse. Dressed quick. ‘More books next time?’ Grinned, but flight called. Taxi to hotel, packed suitcase zip. Keycard beeped return at desk. Runway view last glance. Boarded, her voice echoed—finale easy now. Naughty stopover etched, cock stirred at memory. Wheels up, city faded.