Paris 1:6

The train continued it's rhythmic course, rocking gently to and fro, and as I continued to watch her, Vanessa kept rhythm with the movements of the train, her breath a little faster, her hand still firmly between her open thighs, her fingers not visible to me, but clearly stroking, stroking, stroking. I heard her feet slide a little underneath the table, and she looked up at me for a moment, smiled, and suddenly I felt a stockinged foot brushing against my shin, staying there for a second or two, and then sliding enticingly up my leg, smiling at me again and returning to the journal.

I could barely think - I was trying to concentrate on the diners around us, nervous that she might be seen, that someone might guess what she was up to, but no-one was paying us the slightest attention, and my own senses were becoming fully engaged on the slight, rhythmic movement of her arm, the barely detectable increase in her breathing, the slight tremble of her fingertips as they caressed the pages of the journal, and her stocking foot, now all the way up my leg, and slipping between my parted thighs. I looked at her - I know my face was flushed - and she smiled again, almost demurely, as her foot found its way to my crotch, and settled there, firmly, against my now straining erection.

Still no words passed between us, and to anyone passing, we would have seemed to be relaxing, smiling occasionally at each other, Vanessa quietly reading the journal, with me watching her casually. Underneath the table, however, was a different story entirely. I could see from the movements of her shoulder that Vanessa's fingers were working more rapidly, a small, intimate, wet sound occasionally just audible to me, her breathing a little harder. I also now had a hand discreetly under the table - it felt too obvious - I picked up my copy of Le Monde in my right hand, and casually perused the sports page I had already read in the gentleman's toilet - or at least that would have been how I appeared to a fellow traveller walking down the aisle. My gaze, however, was still firmly on Vanessa, my left hand under the table between my thighs, rapidly unbuttoning my trousers, finding my deliciously throbbing erection, stroking it in my warm fingers, and slipping it out to rest against her foot, still stroking it discreetly, my fingers brushing against her toes with each stroke of my hand. Feeling my cock suddenly hot and hard against the sole of her foot, Vanessa looked at me and gasped gently, pressing her foot against my erection, rubbing against it rhythmically, keeping time with her fingers as they stroked more urgently between her open thighs.

I gasped, looking at her - I could feel my climax approaching, and was certain nothing would stop it. She immediately sensed my urgency - her eyes met mine, fixed there, both of us watching each other intently - I felt her foot tremble against my cock - she gasped quietly, suddenly - a definite splash of wetness suddenly audible from between her thighs - I glanced around us quickly - no-one was looking our way - I felt my cock throbbing intensely, pushing it hard against her foot - she whispered suddenly "Now..." and a delicious shudder rippled briefly through her body, followed by a harder one, biting her lip, her expression suddenly intense, rubbing herself urgently against her wet fingers, trying not to groan as her climax overtook her.

It was all I could take - stifling a groan, I tightened my thighs around her foot, pressing myself against it, feeling my cock throbbing hard, my orgasm pulsing through my body, over and over, as my cum spilt in small wet splashes from my cock, again and again, covering her stockinged foot with the evidence of my orgasm.

Slowly our trembling ceased, both of us suddenly aware again of our surroundings, making ourselves discreetly decent under the table, Vanessa giggling playfully. "I think, perhaps," I smiled, "that we should continue this conversation in my room."

"My thoughts exactly," she smiled, taking a final sip of her tea, wiping her wet foot discreetly against the soft carpet of the carriage.

to be continued...