Passengers

Marsene MacAllistair sat back on the train seat, listening to the clack of her train racing down its tracks. Her flight into Brussels had been delayed, and while the bank had been informed and her hotel reserved, she wouldn't be in Luxembourg until almost dawn. She had hoped to spend her first day in Europe enjoying the countryside as she traveled to her new home. But in the dark of night, once she left the town all light but the train disappeared. That alone made Europe different from Michigan. In America, the city stretched into the country. In Europe, the country began the moment the town ended. It was all night. And the train spun onward.Marsene was thirty-five, a curvaceous blonde woman who had taken a job in Luxembourg because she could and because it helped her get as far as possible from her ex-wife Pauline. Their divorce had been very ugly, full of spite and recriminations. In the end, it paid off for Pauline as Marsene gave her ex their house, their furniture, and their dog in order to make the break clean and total. Marsene took only her clothes and her laptop to take on her way to a fresh European adventure. In a way, it felt like it had when she'd finished her MBA at Michigan. She was free then and starting a new life. Now she was starting over again. Freedom was what mattered to her most at that moment.The train stopped at a small, well-lit station and a slim girl in a short polka-dot sundress got on and found her way into Marsene's car, choosing the seat directly opposite the older woman. She was talking on her phone in French, which Marsene spoke fluently, jabbering about a recent lover. Dressed for a night out, her seat Eryaman Escort mate was young, slim, and shapely, and wore an ultra-short sleeveless red polka-dot dress that barely made her upper thighs. She wore white strapped high heels, and clearly was heading home after a night on the town. Or on to someone.She was more than pretty, Marsene admitted, even if preoccupied. Having nothing better to look at, she studied the girl, from the bump of her nipples through the thin fabric of her dress to her smoothly muscled thighs. Her medium brown hair was silky and smooth. Polka-dot girl had the beauty, fresh skin, and trim body of a young woman, perhaps still in college. She was just the sort of girl Marsene had pursued before she met Pauline. And might again, she admitted, fantasizing about what life might be if only this world was different.The girl looked up at her, looked her right into the eyes, phone still at her mouth, speaking in rapid-fire French. ?No, I will not be seeing Philippe again. He is slime!? Her face tilted. She had full red lips, with freshly refreshed lipsticks and big brown eyes, very seductive to Marsene's eyes. ?Oh he is a tres sexy, to be sure, but a pig nonetheless. I can find someone better.?Marsene smiled back at her, deciding she had to be hopelessly heterosexual but for fantasy, she might suffice. Fantasy had been her love life since her marriage had gone bad.?No, no, no! Anita. You should never go for him. He will fuck you over like he has me! There are many whales in the sea. We deserve better than blubber.?Marsene turned aside and looked outside the window. Sincan Escort The train car was empty except for the two of them. Nothing outside but blackness. The conductor came by and checked their tickets before moving on. Meanwhile, the girl finished her one conversation, then began a new one, this time in German, a language Marsene did not speak. It seemed harsh to her ears, even though the girl's high-pitched voice was musical. Against her better judgment, her eyes swung back to the girl. To her pretty lips and those smooth, firm thighs.Marsene imagined herself between them eagerly tasting the girl in the polka-dot dress, in her fantasy giving polka-dot girl a good reason to give up men like her no-good Philippe for all time. She wondered what the girl's pussy would taste like, and licked her lips remembering the times when she'd had such adventures, and discovering just how wonderful women were to love. Marsene thought back to Annie and Maeve, two girls who had each sworn they were straight before spreading their legs for her tongue.The girl raised up her left leg, resting her toes on the seat, knee bent, and pulling her skirt wide open. Marsene sighed in surprise as she saw the girl wore no panties. Her mound was freshly waxed, her lips pink, pouting, and wrinkled, her clitoris peeking just out from under her hood. She had a beautiful pussy, and the flecks of dried semen around it marked a freshly fucked pussy which did nothing to detract from her beauty. Marsene swallowed and forced herself to look away, look out into the darkness. She looked at her watch. Two hours Etlik Escort ride left, more than that until she could get to her hotel room. There she could touch herself and make herself cum while imagining how it would feel to slide her tongue into polka-dot's delicious-looking slit.The girl must have noticed. She winked at Marsene and pointed a long finger, with long, brilliant red nails down toward her sex. Polka-dot had given her a clear invitation; maybe even an impudent command as if the girl had been reading her mind. Marsene hesitated for a moment, looked around. No one else was in their car. I shouldn't her consciousness told herself. I shouldn't! But her pussy and nipples tingled their disagreement. Marsene took a deep breath and slid to her knees between the girl's outstretched legs.She extended her tongue and ran it along the girl's right thigh, climbing upward. A free hand ran to the back of Marsene's head, caressing the older woman's scalp through her buzz cut, soft fingers on her scalp as Marsene's nose came close to the girl's slit. Her scent was strong, salty, extra musky. Yes, the girl had been recently fucked. Yes, a man had pumped his seed inside her. No, it did not matter, not with this tasty treat right before her. Marsene trilled her tongue up and down the girl's slit, making certain to savor every millimeter of pink labia.The girl gasped into her phone but kept talking. Marsene kept gliding her tongue up and down. She wanted to force polka-dot to give up her call, to make her toss her phone aside and just clamp the older woman's head tight to her pussy. Up and down her tongue swept, flat and teasing, tracing out each bit of her sticky lips, before dipping inside. She pushed her tongue inside polka-dot's slit, and the girl's pussy contracted, pushing something sticky out onto Marsene's tongue. It was semen of course, but Marsene wasn't repulsed. It felt dirty and nasty to taste this stranger so fresh from her lover's bed - if it had been a bed.