Checked into my bland business hotel on the outskirts of Limoges. Magnetic keycard beeps. Room smells of stale coffee, generic view of industrial parks. I’m here for a four-day training gig at a big company’s HQ nearby. Consultant life: suitcase unpacked, laptop humming. Anonymity hits hard—no one knows me in this French backwater. Perfect for a naughty stopover.
First two days: facing 11 hot sales assistants, 26 to 50, dressed to kill. Day four, lunch at a roadside auberge 10km out. Running late after chatting with HĂ©lène, the cute 35-year-old training boss in her flowery summer dress, tanned skin glowing. Slide into my reserved seat at the long, narrow table. Smirks all around about my ‘private talk’ with her. Whispers she’s a ruthless climber.
The Layover
Eyes lock with Marie across from me. Mid-30s, petite, curvy in tight linen pants and silk tee. Brunette bob, hazel eyes sparkling mischief. Small talk flows, but her knee presses mine under the table. I push back, sliding up her thigh. She clamps, trapping my knee against her heat. Pulse races. We grind subtly, her hips inching forward till my knee grinds her pussy. She’s soaked, thighs quivering. Elodie calls her out; Marie blushes but fires back, ‘Thinking of nice things I’d love to do.’ Winks at me. Legs dance on, building fire. I pull away: ‘Save some for later.’ Dessert, coffee, stolen glances. She eyes my bulge, licks lips. ‘Not bad…’
Others leave. I’m last on the auberge parking lot, corner spot. Phone call to my Bordeaux secretary drags. Marie appears, waiting. ‘Can I hitch a ride?’ ‘Ride or driver?’ Lips crash. Tongues tangle, her tits crush my chest, hips grind my hardening cock. Dry-hump standing by the car, her on tiptoes, my tip probing her crotch through clothes. Risky—colleagues anywhere.
The Hookup
‘Get in.’ Dashboard clock ticks. No time. Her hand dives, frees my throbbing cock from pants and briefs. Gland shiny, pre-cum beading. Strokes slow, then sucks deep. Tongue swirls head, fingers knead balls. Heaven. ‘Stop, or I cum.’ She pops off, grinning. Flashes her pussy: pants down, white thong soaked, bush peeking, lips swollen. I dive, tongue on clit. She bucks, moans sharp. ‘No time!’ Frustrated, we fix clothes, drive back flushed.
Parking lot at HQ. She: ‘Pussy’s on fire.’ Me: hard again. Training resumes. Elodie smirks knowingly. Behind Marie, her note: ‘Can’t take it, gonna rub one out.’ She slips to bathroom, returns glowing, mouths ‘Done.’ Hands paper with soaked kleenex—her cum scent hits. I sniff during debate, taste her musk.
Her next note: ‘Jerk off for me, bring kleenex.’ Pause hits. She flashes bare tits under tee—no bra. I bolt to men’s room, stroke furious. Cum floods tissues in hot spurts. Hand them over; she licks greedily outside. ‘Yum, full balls.’ Back in room, she smears lips with my load, eyes locked on me. Elodie sniffs air, spots it, grabs a taste. Complicit grins. Day drags in agony, cocks straining, pussies dripping.