I’m Vincent, 25, management student in Tours, crashing at my parents’ in Epernay. Weekends mean the Champagne Express from Paris. First class private compartment. Plush leather seats hug my body, cool against my skin. Crystal champagne flute in hand—complimentary from the elite service. Window frames rolling vineyards under twilight. Door locked. Fifteen minutes to departure. I sink in, eyelids heavy.
Door slides open. Voices. A couple in their forties. Him: silver-flecked hair, designer jeans, crisp shirt. Under 6 feet, lean. Her: brunette curls mid-length, 5’5″, bold makeup screaming sensuality. Slim figure in black designer skirt above knees. He smiles: ‘Mind if we join?’ Polite nod. No choice. They settle opposite, not directly across. She draws the heavy velvet curtain halfway, dims lights to amber glow. Whispers thanks. Door clicks shut. Seclusion restored.
The Privilege
Conductor checks tickets. Sleep pulls me under. Murmurs fade. Then, rustles wake me. Eyes adjust to shadows. She’s on her knees. Lips wrapped around his cock. He sighs softly, head back. Unmistakable. Shaft out, veined, over 8 inches, shaved smooth. Gland purple, glistening.
He spots me. Surprise flickers. She turns, fearful flash. But he hushes: ‘Shh.’ Beckons me beside him, window seat. Leather creaks under me. She resumes, eyes locking mine. Slurps louder, teasing. My cock throbs hard in pants.
First live sex. Raw. Her tongue flicks his tip. Swallows deep, hand pumping. His sighs deepen. I stare at that stranger’s dick—thick, long, pulsing. Hetero me, yet aroused. She smiles: ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Stammered ‘yes.’ She gropes my bulge. ‘Mmm.’ Whispers hot in ear: ‘He loves two mouths. Help me. You’ll crave it.’ Nibbles lobe. Blood rushes.
The Excess
I lean. Lips brush gland. Salty tang. Tongue darts. He groans. She laps shaft, balls. His hands guide our heads. We slobber kiss around tip. Her moans vibrate. He bucks.
She strokes fast: ‘Suck that cock. Taste his cum.’ Frenzy peaks. He erupts. Thick ropes hit tongue, cheeks, lips. Acrid, hot. Shame burns, but depravity electrifies.
She French-kisses me, sharing salt. ‘Reward time.’ I sit by him. Zipper down. Her mouth engulfs. Sloppy, vacuum sucks. Tongue swirls. I explode instantly—deepest orgasm ever. She swallows, then snowballs him. Passionate swap.
We settle back. Smiles exchanged. Silence wraps us in luxury hush. Train hums. Champagne bubbles forgotten on table. Epernay nears. I exit. Names unknown. Gone forever. Yet that half-submission haunts. Straight me craves repeat.
