Rain pelts Rouen as my train pulls in. Quick stopover before Paris. Drag my roller suitcase through puddles to the impersonal chain hotel by the Seine. Swipe the keycard, elevator hums up. Room 312: neutral beige walls, river view through steamed glass. Unpack fast—tight black stretch pants hug my ass, pink wool sweater clings to my braless D-cups, collar flaring out. Long parka zips over for the Normandy chill. Boyfriend texts: fair’s on tonight. Anonymity hits hard—no one knows me here. Everything permitted till tomorrow’s flight.
Seine-side fair buzzes under wet lights. Auto-tamponneuses crash, bungee jumps sway. Cotton candy in hand, pink fluff sticks to my chin. Boyfriend queues for the big coaster; I dodge thrills. Candy apple next—red sugar smears my sticky lipstick pout. He screams loops; I wander to ‘Moulin des Supplices’ ghost train. Old crone at the booth, chunky psychic rings, scarf over white hair. Buy a ticket, pupils wide already.
The Stopover
Half-full cars rumble into black tunnel. Screams echo, sadistic laughs. Torture chamber glows blue-red: wax figures stretched, hanged, spiderwebs drape skeletons. Mario Bava vibe. Gorilla lunges from shadows, furry paws tousle my hair, grope my tits through sweater. Growls make me grin. He dives under parka, massages heavy breasts. Nipples harden under wool. Exit dazed, tits throbbing. Crone smirks; I snag another ticket.
Last car alone. Hike tits on safety bar, parka wide open. Heart races—vicious ape’s mine. Tunnel swallows us. He pounces, yanks sweater up. Big tits bare, lifted by bar. Furry mitts knead, fur rasps erect nipples electric. Stands tall, unzips crotch. From beast fur: stubby old man’s cock, stiff, white pubes, well-used. Locks eyes—shiny black slits. Shoves my head down. Suck it deep. Cotton candy chin grinds his bush. Hands fist hair, quick rabbit thrusts. Growls chimp-terrified. I smirk around his wrinkled prick.
The Transit
Light cracks tunnel end. Pace frenzied. Hot spurts flood my sore mouth. Pulls out mid-cum—ropes splatter tits. Grabs hair hank, wipes glans clean, smears blob in strands. Jumps off dick-out, back to cave.
Stagger out, sperm coats tongue. Tug sweater down—sticky cum glues wool to skin. Finger-glue hair with jizz-matted locks. Spot boyfriend: he laughs. ‘What’s that?’ ‘Growing a beard?’ Sticky fluff and spunk combo. Lesson: no cotton candy pre-gorilla.