The Blue Train

As the Blue Train rattled along in the dark from Paris to Nice lurching and shifting from one side to the other a man and a woman were tentatively exploring each other’s bodies in the confines of a couchette. They were strangers, who until an hour or so before had never met but were now beginning to give each other the pleasure that they had both been unwittingly seeking.

The compartment was dimly lit but every now and again bright lights from outside would flicker through the window giving the compartment the feel of a silent movie. The only soundtrack apart from the clackety clack of the train was the sound of bells which seemed to come and go throughout the night without rhyme or reason.

They lay naked and entwined. He was more on his back and she was on her side with her leg across him pressing on his balls while her hand stroked his cock. They kissed. Their tongues met and danced around each other. My god, he hadn’t kissed like this since he was a young man. His cock stiffened. He held her breasts. Squeezed them. Ran his tongue around her nipples. He could sense her heart beating faster and hear her breathing grow louder.

It seemed unnecessary to say it but he came out with it anyway. ‘This is so good.’

‘I should hope so’

‘Sorry.’

‘No. Don’t be. It is good. I was joking. Always saying the wrong thing. Misjudging the situation.’

‘But this is the right thing. It has to be,’ he said.

‘Oh yes. It is.’

And with that she rolled onto her back without letting go of his cock until finally releasing it as it drew close to the entrance of her cunt.

He pushed and his cock made its way inside. She pulled a few stray pubic hairs which had become snagged in his foreskin but with a little manoeuvring he was soon able to ease it all the way in. With his balls tight against her labia he held it there for quite a few moments just enjoying the almost overpowering sensation. He then took up a gentle rhythm as they fucked, almost in tune with the train.

It had been a moment of impetuosity that she had agreed to join him in his sleeping compartment for a drink. He said he had a very good bottle of Pinot Noir. Whatever that was. They had drunk quite a bit already ever since they had met in the bar on the train. He had picked up a button he’d found on the floor and asked her if it was hers. Not a very good chat up line but he was funny and surprisingly ‘with it’ unlike her father who must have been about the same age. He teased her about her Walkman saying he must get himself one, as long as he could listen to classical music and jazz on it. They made each other laugh.

The bottle of Pinot Noir which he’d opened with his own travelling corkscrew was very good. She hadn’t drunk much wine in her life and normally avoided red wine altogether but this was pleasant and had some flavour.

He was good at fucking as well as serving wine. His broad cock stretched her cunt like she’d never known before. She put her hand around his cock and took a little of her creamy cunt juices and rubbed them around his arsehole. He gave a sigh of approval so she pressed it just a little more firmly and inserted one finger a fraction of the way in. He groaned with delight and his almost immediate orgasm came so quickly and unexpectedly that for a moment he felt disappointed that he wasn’t able to savour its full intensity. He chided himself for such thoughts. He was fucking for heaven’s sake not at a wine tasting.

As he came, she came just a fraction later with a little help from a gentle rubbing of her clitoris. She normally called it her clit but he liked to use the full length of the word and who was she to quibble as his hand skilfully took her to the edge and beyond.

The train was just passing Avignon and by the time it rattled through Marseille they had fucked once more but this time standing up pressed against the sliding door with her legs around his waist.

He really had found her button on the floor of the bar. It wasn’t a chat up line at all. In fact as they pulled into Nice he just finished sewing it back on to her jacket, using the needle and thread he always carried with him on his travels. He was after all, an English gentleman abroad.

Written for Masturbation Monday Week 177

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