Châtelet

It was on the Paris Metro line 1. It was rush hour and the car was packed. People were crammed against each other as tight as you could imagine as I was standing against a folding seat. They normally folded down but since the car was so full, it was curettes to just lean against them. So I was leaning against the seat, and he was leaning against me; his face just an inch from mine.

He was only a little taller than me; dark hair, dark eyes, clean shaven-- a businessman coming home from his office in La Défense. It was summer so the line was hot as hell. All I was wearing was a short skirt and tank top while he was in a suit and tie, probably dying from the heat.

At the next stop some big oaf got on and pushed us practically nose to nose. I felt his hand lightly brush my inner thigh and I felt a light tingle of excitement inside me. He jerked it away quickly and smiled nervously. I smiled back to let him know it was all right, as he backed up as much as he could to give me space.

The next stop came and even more people got on. He tried to stay a respectable distance from me but that was getting harder and harder. His chest pressed against my tits and I felt my pussy get a little warm. The smell of his cologne made my head spin.

And, at the next stop even more people got on. Now we were pressed tight against each other. The feeling of him pressing against me, almost pinning me down excited me more. He tried to focus his eyes on my face but they kept drifting to look down my shirt. Now I knew I felt something hard. He blushed when he saw the surprise in my face. I just smiled back. I could feel my juices flowing. I wanted to get him as close as possible.

I took his hand, slid it down my body to the inside of my thigh, and let go. He smiled and moved it up to my pussy. He started rubbing my clit through my panties. I reached down and started rubbing his hard cock. He slipped two fingers past the cleft of my panties and started rubbing me, first my clit then he moved down sliding his fingers inside me.

Once he did that, I grabbed his tie and pulled him as close as possible. We both looked around the car. Everyone was so tightly crunched together you couldn't see a thing below the waist. We both stared at each other for a minute, our minds racing.

Then in the heat of the moment, I unzipped his fly and pulled out his throbbing dick. I stroked it for a minute feeling the veins pulsating begging almost. Then I let go and he slid inside me. I grabbed the rail beside me as I felt him push inside. With each stroke I could feel the outside world drifting away. The screeching of the train was drowned out by the sound of him groaning as he slid in and out of me. The smell of the Metro was gone, replaced with the soft smell of his cologne. I couldn't feel the cold metal bars, only the soft fabric of his suit on my skin. And his moist breath on my neck as he stealthily tried to steal a kiss. Sweat began to flow freely between us. It would trickle off my chin onto his neck, or run off his cheek and onto my lips. And, on that rare occasion, that the train jostled us just right our lips would touch and press together.

At first it was slow, but then he grabbed my hips and started fucking me fast. He pressed up against me fucking me harder and harder pressing me against the seat. Every time the train screeched into a stop his thrust would be twice as strong. More people got on pushing us closer together. It was the hardest thing I've ever done not to scream as he kept fucking me.

The smell of his cologne made me hotter. The feeling of his breath against my neck as he panted. How he pushed me against the seat pinning me down so I couldn't move. I had never had anyone as big as him before or fuck me as fast before. I could almost feel him ripping me apart-- a twinge of pain with every volt of pleasure. God it felt good.

Then as the train pulled into Châtelet he put his hand over my mouth and slammed into me harder and faster. My legs started to shake as I felt him start cumming inside me. The feeling of the hot spurts sent me over the edge. My head started to swim and the more I tried to scream the more he pinned me down and clamped his hand over my mouth... and the more erotic it became. He kept cumming pinning me down harder and making me cum harder.

As the orgasm subsided, the only sounds we could hear were our own heavy breathing. We stood there for a minute catching our breath as passengers got on and off before the train rolled onward.

He zipped his cock back up and readjusted my panties. We both just smiled at each other before he leaned in and gave me a kiss as the train stopped and the doors opened. He picked up his briefcase and smiled. I smiled back.

He got off at the next stop, Hôtel de Ville I think it was, and myself two stops later at Bastille.

I don't know his name and I've never seen him since. But whenever I hear everyone else complain about the line 1 during rush hour I just smile cause I know what they're missing out on. I guess I'm the only person in the city of Paris that makes it a point to ride during rush hour. And I always stand against the folding seats just in case someone else wants to play.

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This is the beginning of a series set in the Paris Metro in which I would like to explore the different facets of human sexuality between strangers. I'm posting this story as kind of a dry run, so if you would like to read more or have any suggestions of certain aspects of sexuality to explore please send me feedback.