35°C in the shade. Shade’s a myth. I stumble onto the platform, drenched. Clock screams: train leaves in five. No clue on platform, car, seat. Chaos swarms the entrance.
Deep breath. Dive into the sweaty mob. Bags bash shoulders. ‘Watch it, fuck!’ Some asshole yells. No time. Board flashes: my line, imminent departure. Mutter sorry, squeeze onto the platform.
The Awakening
Grab a door. Slip in. Whistle shrieks. Train lurches, accelerates. Latecomers fight controllers. I’m in. Safe. Soaked. Chest heaves. Fumble shirt button open. Mirror glance: wrecked. Hair wild, shirt clingy, face beet-red.
Hunt my seat: sixth car. Stumble through fifth. Hit seventh. Controller pities me. ‘Sixth car’s ghosted. Relocated to end wagon.’ Groan. Trudge on. Heat thickens. Airless.
Finally, mystery car. Compartments. Quiet-ish. Scout windows: families crammed, kids screaming, teens glaring. End compartment: near-empty. One woman.
‘Excuse me, mind if I join?’ She looks up from laptop. Glasses, round face, messy bun. Pro vibe: white blouse, black skirt, jacket aside. Stares. I stare back, awkward. Breaks: ‘Sure. I’ll clear space.’ Shuffles papers into colorful folders.
Dump bags overhead. Sit opposite. Confirm: she’s hot in a curvy, serious way. Thirties? Business trip south.
‘Stifling, right?’ Smile my best. She nods. ‘AC’s dead. This window’s it.’ Five hours. Dizzy already.
She grabs massive headphones. Dives back to screen. Conversation dead. Gaze out window. Drift off, head on glass. Heat haze.
Tunnel rumble wakes me. Body heavy, blood thick. Eyes crack: her cheeks round, focused, headphones on. Torpor hits. Stare her plump legs. Fantasy sparks. Imagine those thighs parting. Blouse tight over tits. Kiss them. Suck nipples through fabric.
Jolt. Train brakes hard. Shit flies. Grab my bag. Her papers scatter. Muffled scream next door. Announcement: ‘Sorry for the sudden stop.’
Then: moan? Low, throaty. Builds. Woman’s voice. Hers? She scrambles, plugs headphones back.
Awkward silence. Smile fails. She avoids eyes. Porno? Fair enough. But curiosity burns.
‘Sorry, curious… what was that?’ Blurts out. Her cheeks flush. Silence stretches.
Glance her reflection. Smile? She looks up. Smirks.
The Raw Act
‘It was my voice.’ Whispers. Pushes headphones over. ‘Curious? Listen. We’re anonymous here.’
Heart pounds. Door shuts. Curtains drawn. Heat spikes. Trembling, slip on headphones. She plays it. Eyes locked.
Static. Then: muffled gasps. Her moans swell. ‘Touch me… harder…’ Goosebumps. Cock twitches.
Eyes open: blouse open. Heavy tits out. Fingers trace skin. Skirt hikes slow. Legs cross-play. Culotte peeks: tiny pink.
Her feet on my shoulders. Slides panties off with toes. Drops on my lap. Legs fold. Volume up.
‘Three orgasms tonight… shower jet… tipsy server fantasy… bed tease.’ Voice rasps: ‘Want more. Fuck me raw. Bite my ass. Lick my pussy.’
She spreads. Fingers dive into slick folds. No shame. I grip my bulge. Stroke through pants.
Her hand flies. ‘Ram me. Choke me. Fill my cunt.’ Moans blur: recording or live? Body arches. Trembles. Final growl. Laughs.
Recording ends. Silence. Stare. Cocks throbs. She glows, spent.
Bell: Montpellier. Terminus. Crowd rushes. She packs fast. Door opens.
‘Wait—’ She shakes head. Smiles secret. Vanishes into mob.
Grab bag. Mirror: still wrecked. Quai buzzes. She’s gone. No name. Perfect.
Thrill lingers. Secret shared. Oozed the unspeakable. Vacation? Wild already.