A Trip to Paris

Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is fiction, I made it all up. Warning: this is a self-edited story. I do use Grammarly to help reduce my ability to murder the English language. Special thanks to goducks1 for his help.

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"Ma'am, wake up." I am shaken. "Ma'am. Wake up please." I am shaken again.

I wake up to a stewardess gently waking me up. I am disoriented and tired. I sit up and smile at the stewardess. I have taken this flight six times and finally, I was able to sleep most of the trip. Otherwise it's a boring flight, it's much better sleeping through the flight. It's only ten minutes before we land. Soon I will be forced to deal with getting my luggage and standing for an hour on a train to Paris.

It's always welcome to have an uneventful landing. I am still getting used to this travel thing. I work for a high-end department store and go to Paris from time to time, so I can meet with vendors. I am not a fan of traveling but I like the city very much. It has a lot of energy during the day and a great night scene. The shopping is fantastic as well.

For work, I give my opinions on new styles and colors to some of our key partners. However, most often it's to complain about quality of workmanship and inconsistent colors. We like deep luxurious colors. Those are more expensive, so the vendors try to cut back and hope we don't notice. We do.

This week I am giving a vendor written notice that they are close to being dropped. That will improve quality for at least six weeks. It's boring though, flying from New York to Paris, just to slap the hands of a vendor. However, my company likes the face to face meetings. Since I am the new girl, twenty-four and only six months on the job, I get to travel. The other buyers are married and have children, they don't want to go anywhere.

I have done this run enough times that even though I don't speak French, between my knowledge of where things are and enough English signs I can get by. I know the words on the monitors for the arrival baggage claim. I go down to the carousel and wait almost forty minutes before the luggage carousel begins moving. While waiting, I check out the single men. Most are older, like fifty and over while just a few are college age or less. Of the others, they look to be in their forties or not cute enough to care about.

There are a few that catch my eye, but they are old enough to be my father. One man looks particularly interesting. Jet black hair, a sun tan, very thin, almost too thin. His eyes are on me and he is smiling. He is wearing a nice polo shirt and shorts. Nothing stands out enough to tell me he is worth screwing. Probably a rich playboy and married. He has no carry on, and he doesn't look like a businessman. It's uncommon to see a young woman or children on the plane, therefore it's 95% men here.

When the carousel finally starts, me and several others move closer. After I establish a spot, most of the men take up a position behind me. Happens every time. I work out and have a nice bubble butt. I think it's too big, but men trip over themselves to look at it or my 34C cup breasts. They like to be behind me so they can stare, I can feel them. I also feel a pinky finger cross over my knee-high skirt. It slid right across the middle of my ass. Probably just accidental, nobody touches you in a crowd.

I quickly look over my shoulder and see the good looking 40'ish guy there along with a few other men that I would classify as old. None of them too terribly offensive looking. They are all looking past me to the chute for luggage. It will be a while still.

I get bumped two more times. One feels like a finger along the crack of my ass and the other is a soft poke of the shoulders. Certainly, it's just the crowd jostling for position. We all continue waiting and wondering when the luggage will start appearing. There are a few more pokes and bumps on my back and shoulder blades. A cold hand ran the back side of a finger down my arm. I look at the man and he is waving at someone beyond me. I turn back but see nobody. What a creep.

The first piece of luggage comes up through the shoot, it's not mine. When I started traveling, I bought a set of bright pink luggage. I have just one piece, I like to travel light. If I really need something, I will buy it here. Over half of the people are gone before my luggage pops out. I hear a guy next to me, laugh.

He asks me, "That pink case must be yours, would you like me to grab it for you?"

I work out, I don't need his help, he isn't even cute, so with a slightly annoyed voice I say, "I am more than capable of getting my luggage thank you."

As it comes around, I reach over, and a second cute guy also reaches for my luggage and accidentally runs into my breast while reaching for it. He distracts me while someone else palms my ass. Damn this group is handsy. I can't wait to get on the train. Irritated at these pushy, rude men, I walk quickly to the train. Being early morning, this is the busy time of day. All the business people want to start their day early so they can get their work done and possibly get home tonight.

I won't be so lucky, I am stuck here for three days. I am off to my first appointment downtown. I will take the train and then it's just two blocks to my destination. The trains leave every ten minutes and it takes about an hour to reach my stop. The train will leave half-full of people from the airport and then will be packed after two quick stops.

The trains are like many trains we have in New York. Long, brightly lit, with two across plastic seats along each side of the passenger car. In the isle are poles with straps to hold on to. After a stop or two, they aren't needed as the bodies are tightly packed. Most people get out on the Paris stops. This is the worst part of traveling, being packed like sardines into the train. Fortunately, it's only an hour.

I just missed a train meaning I am almost first in line to get on the next train. When it arrives, I get on and move towards the end. I am young, I remain standing to let the elderly or children have the limited seating, it's much safer for them. Of course, a gaggle of men follow me like a black rain cloud. They never follow the old women, it's always me.

You would think I was dressed like a porn star the way they flock after me. I am wearing conservative clothing. My blouse is a bit tight and I have no sleeves. However, it is white and ordinary. It's so damn hot out, I like this sleeveless blouse. It's cotton and breaths, but it has shrunk a bit and soon I will be unable to wear it. So yes, it's a bit tight with my ample boobs but there are women here far better looking than me and dressed far sluttier. Right?

I look around and there are very few women on the train. Those that are have children or are elderly. I see a pair of young girls, but they are with four guys. There is a woman in her forties, but she looks run down and tired. Her clothes are worn, she has had a hard life. That's too bad.

I let out a deep breath and hope that it's a local holiday and the train won't be packed. At the next stop, the train is almost full. Swell, another boring packed train ride. I look outside to see the countryside and houses. There is a highway with colored cars that I can watch. It's something to help me pass time.

The train is at full speed. Every turn forces the bodies to move. At every rail connection there is a bump that sways passengers, forcing us to hit into one another. This is all normal until I feel a tap on my breast. I quickly look to my left and a man is looking beyond me out the window. Another man is looking down at his watch. Another man is holding his luggage, he turns to look at me when I look at him. From the opposite side, my breast and shoulder are bumped.

The problem is, the train did not bump. My head swivels and three men are looking past me and ignore me. It must have been just an accident. I look out the window again. I feel a light finger trace my breast and then bump into my ribs. Could have just been the crowd. While looking to my left, a hand from my right is placed on my shoulder. I glare at the owner and he removes it.

I am looking forward, but my eyes are to my right. An elbow hits my right breast as the train bumps and shakes. Several bodies also bash my sides. Maybe I am just sensitive, it's probably just the train. As soon as I have that thought, a finger slides across the top of my arms, close to my shoulders, and more importantly, close to my breast again.

I use my hand behind me, taking a swat at the palm that in cupping my ass. A loud slap of skin can be heard. Maybe that will stop them. I am getting annoyed. I don't like being touched. A man reaches his arm up to grab a strap on a pole and it slides across the front of my breast very lightly. My body betrays me by stiffening my nipples. I am sure I turn a light shade of red. It could have been worse, but I am mad at these men.

I feel a long slow, warm exhale on my neck. It tickles me and my body shudders. Another man to my right softly says something in French. Is it about me or something else? I have no idea. Another man takes a few fingers and strokes my left breast from almost the nipples until his hand slides away on my side. I am too slow to swat the hand. I didn't see it straight on, so I have no idea who even did it.

While looking to my left, a man behind me gently puts his hands on my sides and gently rubs his hands up and down my ribs twice. Like a ninja, he is gone as I turn around to strike him. I am frustrated and angry because these men are molesting me. A tear runs down my face.

I nice looking older man takes a handkerchief and wipes away my tear with a gentle smile on his face. He is cute looking. Probably married, but I wouldn't mind HIM touching me. I turn my back on him.

Ok, time to change tactics. If I am lucky, they are doing this because they want to tease me. If I ignore them, I stop their fun and then maybe they stop harassing me. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I will allow a small amount of touching now. They don't disappoint me.

At first, they use fingers to lightly poke me. Then they lightly draw fingers over my exposed skin on my shoulder and arms quickly followed by my sides (which is ticklish) and of course my breasts and ass. This is a bad idea, this feels good. I am getting turned on because they are strangers. One of these men is a real ass man. His hands feel nice.

However, I don't dare wiggle my butt or moan, that would encourage them too much.

The hands that caress my breasts are very soft. They touch, wait, and then go back and touch some more. My nipples are hard as rock. Oh shit, the pleasure is starting to warm up my pussy. I am getting excited. I need to think of something terrible or sad. If they smell me, I am theirs.

I feel a man standing behind me. He is pressing his body into mine. Based on his height, this is the good-looking guy. His hands hold me at the waist and pulls me back into him. I CAN FEEL HIS ENLARGED COCK ON MY ASS! Of my, this is going too far. I know I am cute but wow, he shouldn't be doing this.

A man on my right, has his hand resting on my breast and then it runs underneath like he is weighing the mass. He is gentle. No squeezing or touching my nipples, just weighing the mass of the breast. He is content to cup and lightly play with the breast in his hand by lightly squeezing it which cause my breast to push out. Think of cupping a water balloon. Squeeze one end and the other enlarges. That is me right now.

The man on the opposite side is more adventurous, he hubs his fingers over the nipples, noticing how hard they are. Everyone within several square feet of my position can now smell me. I am fucked. They know I'm excited and that is going to spur them on.

The man behind me grinds his cock into my ass. Someone in front of me opens a button of my blouse very quickly. I raise my hand to knock the hand away, but my forearm is grabbed. My eyes go wide open now. I am scared. My body trembles in fear. If they grab my hands, I can't stop them. They can do anything they want.

The man behind me whispers something French into my ear. He sounded calm and in control. A small man in front loosens another button and then reaches in and squeezes a nipple hard. I am already scared and now pain makes me cry out. I have tears running down my face now. This is out of control.

The older man behind me slaps away the hand on my nipple and admonishes him with two quick and forceful words. The pain instantly stops, and he never touches me again. The older man behind me does. He slips his hands into my blouse from behind me and through the holes where sleeves would be, if this blouse had sleeves.

Fuck, I made this too easy for them. Another button is opened. My bust and bra are clearly visible. A thin older man caresses a breast through the bra. The man behind me goes into the bra from on top and is gentle with me. He rubs his hands and they feel like magic. His hands go over the top of the bra and his fingers curl around the front of the breast. This feels amazing, I bet I am smiling.

I can't help it, I let out a moan. I would have given anything to avoid that. Yet, the feeling is amazing, and my pussy is on fire. Someone from behind me, but obviously not the good-looking older man as he is holding my breasts, releases my bra. The front droops down meaning that the hands are the biggest things covering my breasts right now.

He curls his hands up to flatten my breasts to my chest and his hands effectively become my bra. It feels amazing. Two men on my sides pull my bra straps off my shoulders. One of them pulls the bra out of my blouse and is nice enough to stuff it in my purse. That bra cost me a lot of money, I certainly don't want to lose it.

My shirt has one button working still, my bra is in my purse, and two hands are hiding my breasts. A college kid with books slowly lifts the front of my skirt. My protector behind me uses a hand to slap the hand away, but in doing so, allows a breast to swing free. Five men in front of me are frozen with smiles on their faces. With the train moving, my free breast swings back and forth.

Two men in front of me gently take my breasts in their hands and squeeze and stroke my hefty breasts. The man behind me let go which surprises me. I thought he was protecting me from these Neanderthals. I am tearing up again and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I don't feel his body anymore.

I now feel alone and vulnerable. These men have their hands on me, and it feels good. It was better when I was being protected and I had a hard cock grinding into me. It feels wild being on display like this in a public place with strangers placing their hands on my most private of parts. I am excited by all the action. I am nervous, excited, and scared all at once. I am panting hard. My pussy is gushing because I can see them staring at me. It's embarrassing.

I am interrupted by two hands from behind, prying my legs apart. What the hell! No way he is screwing me. He isn't that good looking. I don't move. I am not allowing him between my legs. No! No way. Then I feel something odd. Hair. I look down and I see that he is trying to force his head between my legs!

Wait a minute. He doesn't want to shine my shoes. I believe his intentions are a little more perverted. My breasts are still exposed, and men are glaring at me. I widen my stance as much as I can. I really can't move much. It's enough.

The man sits down on the floor and turns around underneath me. I can feel his breath on my vagina. I am tingling big time. My panties are soaked. He slowly and gently slides his soft hands up my thighs. I shudder in excitement. My pussy is now a forge, I can melt steel. This man is white collar, no calluses on his hands. His hands feel cold. They probably aren't cold, they are just colder than my body and my body is on fire. That causes his hands to feel cold to me.

His fingers hook the sides of my panties by my hips, and he pulls them half way down. I yip as his tongue first touches my pussy. It's moist and cold. He slowly and passionately kisses and licks my sex. My legs are failing, it's taking all my strength to stay standing. I am partially leaning my pussy on his face as support. I fear I might fall.

The men holding and gently caressing my breasts notice my issue and both put an arm around me to keep me on my feet. Did they do that to help me or because they like the feel of my breasts? Why do I care? Why even think that about it when I have a master pussy eater treating me to his masterpiece. He switches from slow to fast, from kisses to licks, from a thin tongue to a thick tongue. He is methodical in changing the three factors (speed, size, lick vs kiss) every few seconds.

My pussy is now gushing, and he is drinking most of the fluids. Some is running down into my shoes. I am trying not to moan, but some escape, much to the enjoyment of all the men around me. Two new men are now latched on to my nipples and lightly sucking them. They are not in sync, one is sucking fast and hard while the other is slow and gentle.

Oh fuck, I am going to explode. This is too much. The man below me is awesome, easily the best oral I have ever received. Granted, the bar had been set low, however, I am confident that nobody is breaking his record. I have at least three men doing nothing but touching skin. One has his hand inside my arm hole like the other man did earlier. He is fighting for position on my breast.

The two men holding my breasts are still gentle and smiling wide. Then I have two young men sucking my nipples. Is it any wonder I want to explode? However, I don't want the entire train car to know I orgasmed. How the hell am I going to hide this?

The two men fondling my breasts look at me in panic. They put their fingers up to their lips in a shush motion. Fuck that. No way I can voluntarily hold back. I shake my head no and then clear my throat so I can yell louder. The two men panic and push the nipple suckers off my nipples. One pulls the hair of the man eating me and I can only assume that he told him I was going to scream, I didn't understand a word, but almost immediately, he looks panicked.

He pushes up my panties and fights to get up. It's hard because people have taken up his free space. The two men that were fondling my breasts are nice enough to help the older man up by pushing others away and offering a hand. It's then that I realize that one of them already has his hand back on my breast. Dirty little fucker. I slap the hand away and start to button my blouse again. Nobody stops me but the two hands are back to groping my breasts again. They are damn good at it as well.

Surprisingly, it's the older man that swats their hands away. FINALLY! It's about time someone helps me. The older man behind me then does something unusual, he wraps one of his hands around my body, holding me close to his. Only one hand? What's the other one doing?

It doesn't take long for me to find out. It comes down the inside of my skirt, from top to bottom, into my panties and then he curls his fingers back up and into my pussy. He is fingering my pussy. How is this even possible? I feel him bending over, his arm is along my back, his forearm is lodged between my ass cheeks, and his palm is between my pussy and ass hole. The fingers just make it into my pussy.

I am amazed that his fingers aren't melting. His tongue was way more talented than his fingers, but I give him extra credit for difficulty due to the odd angle. Still, he is slowly rubbing his fingers along my lips and then sloshing them inside of my deep hole.

He will need a lot more than two fingers to fill me up. That is when I realize, I am going to orgasm. I have tears in my eyes, my pussy is on fire, I feel terrific. My breathing is harder, and I am blushing. All the signs of an awesome orgasm. Suddenly, the arm holding me close to his body releases me and he quickly has his hand clamped over my mouth.