Gare de Lyon buzzed with frustration. Strike chaos everywhere. Suit guy in tie screamed at the young rail clerk about coal trains and privileges. A petite woman intervened, voice soft but firm. ‘He’s just helping us.’ The guy stormed off. She sat on the bench, pulled a book from her leather briefcase. I pocketed my tie after the seminar flop, called Brigitte—no trains, hotels full. Sat next to her. No bagatelle mood, but her fossette chin, fluette voice drew me. ‘Watch my bag?’ Sure. She hit the ladies’, returned jacket open over white blouse. Tight black pants hugged her Venus mound. I glanced up, caught her ironic smile.
Chatted Simenon thriller, Ardèche plateau, old films. Thierry the clerk tipped us: Austerlitz for a train to Nîmes. I grabbed her briefcase—light leather, my suitcase balanced it. Boulevard Diderot crawl, Seine black under bridges, Bercy lights distant. Austerlitz deserted, old man snoring on bench. ‘Dinner?’ Small bistro nearby. Cinema talk, politics—my son blocking uni, her daughter striking school. She split the bill, coffee strong. Back, Marcel the bearded guy led us to ‘welcome train’ on track 16. Heated, secure. Young cap guy showed first-class compartment. ‘For couples. You’re alone tonight.’ Door slid shut. Plastic-wrapped pillows, blankets. Her briefcase up top, she took lower bunk. I climbed opposite, heart pounding.
The Stopover
Brushed teeth at wagon end, wiped pits, cleaned cock just in case. She swapped, no tampon—good sign. Back, jacket off. Lights dim to blue nightlight. She peeled blouse, white bra dropped. Small, pert tits like a girl’s. Bent for shoes, pants off—socquettes. Turned, slipped panties down. Firm, muscled ass. Dark bush flash. I stripped slow: jacket, shirt, pants, socks, briefs. Cock rock-hard. She watched? Laid under blanket on back. I climbed up naked, ditched cover—too hot. Stared down, willed her hands on me. Counted to ten. Down for ‘book’ in suitcase, ass flexed. Lit bunk lamp, turned—cock throbbing obvious. Her eyes open, smile faint.
She tugged my blanket. Hands on tits, lips suck nipples soft. Tongue trailed belly, navel, to wet slit. Licked folds, sucked lips, probed clit. Hands kneaded ass, finger circled hole—eyes asked. I nodded. Gentle anal dip, slick. Kissed up, pussy taste on lips, tongues danced wild. Rolled condom, missionary thrust. Tight, hot. Rage pumps, we exploded. Sweaty heap, he showered kisses. ‘Never this good, Delphine.’ ‘Very good, Julien.’ Cleaned in toilet—her naked strut amused. Back, he nibbled tits, toes, inner thighs. Tongue-fucked pussy again. Upper bunk for 69: her mouth velvet on cock, ass to wall. Swapped, he begged inside. Rested, chatted lies—her bank job, Nîmes life. Praised her body. Fingers prepped ass, cock followed. Balls slapped cheeks, pure bliss. He vowed love, begged reunion. ‘No.’ Dawn, Austerlitz quai. Last kiss, she boarded TGV south. No number. Back Lyon bistro, tea cold, notebook open. Rum now. Train to Orléans soon. Her scent lingers.