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*This is a true story about how something incredible can happen when you least expect it. Even the names have not been changed because in this case, the innocent need no protection.
It was spring 1968. My 21st birthday was coming up soon and I would be graduating from college at the end of May. At dinner one evening my mother asked me if I had given any thought to what I wanted for my birthday and graduation presents. I knew she was inclined to nice clothes and fine jewelry and would want to give me something really extravagant to celebrate these two impending milestones. I told her I had not decided on anything yet but would try to come up with some suggestions for her. She said not to wait too long as she might need to make some plans.
The next day as I returned home from my afternoon classes she asked me again if I had made a decision about my gifts. I told her I hadn’t but would give serious thought to the matter over the weekend. She then asked me if she could make a suggestion. I envisioned some really expensive watch or ring but what she said surprised me. “How would you like to go on a trip to Europe?” she asked. I knew she had been there in the early fifties and stayed for almost a year but I had never considered going there myself. I thought about it for a moment and said I thought a trip might be a perfect gift; something to invigorate my summer before going off to graduate school in the fall. She was hoping I would say that as I could tell she couldn’t wait to start planning it.
By the time graduation rolled around, the trip had turned into a major production. She had made arrangements for us to sail to England on the QE2 where we would spend 3 days seeing London and the surrounding sights and sometime while we were there, we would meet up with my older brother and his wife who had been wanting to go on a trip since they got married but had never had the chance. I wasn’t about to tell her that I had sort of envisioned going by myself and keeping it a bit more low key. She was just too excited about the prospect of all of us doing this together. I figured I could always go back another time if I wanted to do the solo thing and this way I could do some research on where I might like to go if I came back by myself.
The trip began in glorious fashion. We flew to New York and saw a musical on Broadway the night before boarding the ship. She had not overlooked a single detail. We spent the night in the Plaza hotel and ate at an expensive restaurant prior to going to the theater. A limousine picked us up the next morning and took us to the dock. The voyage over was a perfect way to relax and unwind from all of the tension of final exams and birthday and graduation parties. I hadn’t realized how much I needed it. We were truly pampered the entire time we were on the ship. An Atlantic crossing is quite different from a typical cruise aboard a modern cruise ship and I will always appreciate having the opportunity to experience it.
The day after arriving in Southampton and catching the train up to London, my brother and his wife arrived and met us at the hotel. We did all the things tourists do in London and two days later boarded a train to Dover where we would be put on a ferry (train and all) to be transported across the channel. We had purchased rail passes that allowed us to ride first class on any train in Europe any time we wanted. We arrived in the station in Paris just as it was turning dark on Bastille Day. The train was going unusually slow because there were people in the streets celebrating and traffic was especially heavy. It turned out to be a fortunate situation as we were able to see fireworks all over the Paris skyline while we crawled along. We were not going to stay in Paris this night as we had planned to return here later to fly back home so we just spent a little time changing trains and heading off to Amsterdam.
We had 16 days of sightseeing ahead of us and used them to visit many of the places one wants to see on a trip to Europe. Our next to last destination was Milan where we stayed in the most luxurious hotel I have ever been in and had a remarkably sumptuous dinner the night before we were to leave to return to Paris. The next day when we arrived at the train station we were informed that all of the compartments had been booked by previous reservation. We had never had this problem up until then so we inquired about another train and were told that there was one leaving an hour later but it was not an express and it too was almost full so we were only able to get second-class space on it. That didn’t seem like too much of a problem so we decided to take it.
Apparently trains to Paris were in demand that summer and the only compartment we could find was in the next to the last car and it was for six persons. That meant we would be on a slower train and could not rearrange the seats to form something resembling a bed, as we had been able to do in the first class compartments. We were not scheduled to arrive in Paris until 9:30 the next morning so the prospects for a good night’s sleep were dim. In addition to the problem with rokettube the accommodations, we had not bothered to have lunch before boarding expecting that we would be able to get something in the dining car as we had on previous trains. We were due to leave in a few minutes and the hallways of the passenger cars were full of people looking for a place to sit and put their luggage, so I got off the train and ran forward to see if I could locate a dining car. I finally found one fourteen cars further up toward the front. I ran back toward the back and stopped long enough to buy what looked like a couple of submarine sandwiches but the only thing they had to drink were bottles of Chianti. So, wine and subs for lunch; could have been worse.
The other two people in the compartment left as soon as they put their bags in the overhead rack and returned about an hour later and took them out. They said something to us in Italian that none of us understood but we guessed they had found better seats somewhere else. This allowed us to at least slide the seats into a reclining position so we didn’t have to sleep sitting up. About ten o’clock the train stopped at the Swiss border and changed crews. When the Swiss conductor checked our tickets and passports we asked him about the possibility of moving to a first class compartment and he said there might be one available when we stopped at the French border to change crews again but it would be in the front of the train and we would just have to go up there and see.
At half past midnight the train pulled into a little station with only two platforms in a small town just inside the French border. My mom, brother and sister-in-law were all asleep so, since I was next to the door, I quietly slipped out and got off and hurried to the front of the train where I saw the French crew getting aboard. I asked the conductor if there were any first class compartments available and he told me that they were going to be taking off and putting on additional cars and that one of them would be a first class passenger car so when they were finished, we could move up. I asked him when this would be and he said we were due to leave at 2 AM. European trains, at least back then, were extraordinarily punctual so when he said 2 AM you could literally set your watch by it. I then asked him if there was any place I could get something to drink, sodas or even just bottled water since you were advised not to drink from the basins in the bathrooms on board. He told me that there was nothing on the train until 6 AM when the dining car opened for breakfast but I might be able to find something in town though he doubted it since it was so late. “We just stop here to do a little rearranging so we can move on,” he said.
I had ninety minutes so I figured I’d check out the little town and see if there might be something still open even if it was only a vending machine. I walked past the darkened station and looked up and down the street and saw a light at an intersection about a block away. I headed for the light and as soon as I got to the corner I saw a couple coming out of the door of what looked like a bar so I went inside. There was a small foyer with a wide doorway to the right and a flight of stairs to the left leading up. I went through the doorway into a larger room with a bar and about twenty tables with chairs around them scattered throughout the room. It was exactly what you would expect a little French bistro to look like; even though I had never actually been in one, I had seen many of them in the late night movies I had watched with my aunt. Cozy lighting and still relatively clean given the late hour although it did smell faintly of cigarette smoke. There didn’t appear to be anybody around so I walked up to the bar to see if they might have something to drink that I could take back to the train.
As soon as I got to a space between two stools near the middle of the bar a swinging door started to move at one end of the counter and as I looked up, a woman walked through from what I guessed to be a kitchen behind the bar. My life was about to be changed forever. She had some glasses in her hand and, when she saw me, said something to me. My French was not very good but it sounded pretty much like “We’re closed” to me and began to walk toward the middle of the bar where I was standing.
I watched her walk the short distance and was again struck by her appearance. She, like the bistro itself, looked exactly like she had walked out of a movie made during WWII. She was wearing a black beret and had a small, delicate red scarf or handkerchief tied around her neck. A blue and white broad striped boat necked t-shirt came down to the top of a black skirt that was split up one leg from the hem just above her knee to almost her hip. The strap of a black garter belt holding up real nylon stockings with seams in the back showed through the slit. A pair of black leather 4-inch heels completed the outfit. Her hair was dark brown, a little short of shoulder length. She wore it in a pageboy style with bangs. Her make-up was perfect. Red lipstick on pouting full lips, mascara asyalı porno on lashes that framed beautiful blue eyes and a hint of blush on her cheeks.
She had turned away from me to put the glasses on a shelf behind her and before she turned around I thought I had better say something before she decided I was some sort of pervert standing there ogling her. I tried to ask her in my poor French if she had any bottled water and as soon as she heard me she turned around and smiled at me. “American” was all she said. Her English wasn’t any better than my French but she asked me what I was doing there, as they didn’t get many visitors, especially this late. I told her I was on the train to Paris. “The train doesn’t leave until two so you have time to have a real drink” she said as she reached down and picked up two champagne glasses and put them on the bar between us. She then moved over and picked up a bottle from an ice bucket and proceeded to pour the bubbling wine into the glasses. No sooner had I asked her what we were celebrating than I noticed what was left of a cake at the end of the bar with candles on it. I also saw a makeshift banner with writing on it hanging across one of the mirrors behind the bar that must have said ‘Happy Birthday Yvette’ though I had never seen it written in French before. I almost started to ask her how old she was but remembered my manners before I spoke. She looked to be in her early thirties.
I looked at her and asked, “Yvette?” “Oui” she answered. Then added “Et vous?”. I gave her my best French translation of my middle name; “Francois” I answered back. I asked if she was the proprietor of the bistro and she said that she was, along with her mother and father who had just left. I lifted my glass and said “Happy Birthday Yvette, thank you for inviting me.” She gave a little giggle and said “il n’y a pas de quoi, de rien, Francois”. The way she pronounced the name made me feel as though I had been called that all my life instead of hearing somebody say it for the first time. She gave me a look as she said it that made me feel comfortable and that she was happy I was there.
I told her that since I had not been thoughtful enough to bring her a present perhaps I could at least offer to dance with her at her party even though I had arrived late. Her eyes lit up and she moved to the other end of the counter where she picked up a record and placed it on a turntable. With a flick of a switch music started flowing out of speakers on the shelf behind the bar. Once again I knew I had heard the song before in some typically French scene where two lovers were swaying in each other’s arms. Edith Piaf or somebody like her, soulfully singing a romantic ballad that seemed to perfectly fit this moment.
Yvette walked around the end of the bar and took my hand as she led me to a space between the tables that looked like it had been cleared for just this purpose. I started to put my left arm up to take her hand while placing my right arm on her upper back. She looked at me like I obviously had no clue how to dance with a French woman as she placed both my arms around her so my hands met in the small of her back while she reached up with both her arms and placed them on my shoulders, clasping her hands behind my neck. We began to slowly slide around the floor as we both stared into each other’s eyes. After just a moment she laid her head on my shoulder and pulled me closer to her. Her breasts were pressing into my chest as she glued her pelvis to mine. I had danced with a lot of girls at frat parties in college but it had never felt anything like this.
Despite being awash in feelings that I had never had before I considered how unlikely it was to be in the arms of a pretty French woman dancing to a love song in the middle of the night. This thought caused me to raise my left arm and look at my watch to see how long I had been there. I couldn’t believe it was only quarter to one. I had been there a little more than ten minutes yet I felt like I had been there half the night. I guess I was paying too much attention to my watch because Yvette reached up and gently took my arm and moved it back down to where it had been; only this time she placed it on her shapely derrière. As she did this she turned her head up to look at me again and if the look on her face didn’t scream out ‘KISS ME’, I was going to have to enroll in a class for reading the handwriting on the wall when I got back home. I slowly moved my head toward hers, not in hesitation but to savor the incredible anticipation of what this was going to feel like. When our lips finally touched, the softness was unbelievable. It was gentle at first, each of us tasting the other and liking it a lot. I thought it would last longer but Yvette pulled back and whispered, “Viens avec moi”.
She put her arm around my waist and guided me through the doorway into the foyer pausing briefly to slide the latch closed on the front door before proceeding to the flight of stairs on the other side. I had a pretty good idea what was about to happen but I was really shocked that she had been the one azeri porno to instigate it. Despite having known her for only ten minutes, there was nothing about her that gave me the impression that she did this casually or often. We walked up the stairs and down a hallway where she opened the door to a room. I had no idea what to expect.
What I saw was not some dusty storeroom where she brought strangers for a fast passionate fuck. Oh no, this was her room! She was letting me into her world; sharing her life with me if only for this brief interval. In an instant, the entire milieu had shifted. I suddenly had the feeling of being in a shrine or one of the cathedrals I had recently visited. The whole room was filled with all of the things that reflected her very essence. I regretted that I would not have time to examine every one of them and absorb the story they could tell me about her. The perfectly made bed, the pictures on the wall, the rug on the floor were as marvelous to me as anything I had seen in the museums I’d been in. I felt honored and privileged.
I don’t know what special set of circumstances had conspired to make her feel like doing what we were obviously about to do. Maybe her birthday reminded her that she wasn’t getting any younger or maybe she was lonely or because the universe had unexpectedly sent her a cute young boy toy from America to play with for an hour and she was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As I was standing there marveling at my good fortune, she moved like a cat across the room taking off her beret and scarf as she neared the bed. She turned to face me and then lifted the t-shirt over her head placing it carefully on a chair. Next she unbuttoned and unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She bent to pick it up and placed it on the chair with her shirt.
Standing there in black lace lingerie she was the embodiment of every sexual fantasy I had ever conceived of. She looked at me and said, “You like?”. “Very much” I replied. “Then let’s not waste another minute” she told me and started to reach up and unclasp her bra. I said, “stop” and walked over to her and bent down in front of her. I placed my hands in the waistband of her tiny panties and slowly pulled them down to her ankles and over her high heeled shoes. “That’s enough for now” I told her. She smiled at me and gave me a look that said ‘Naughty boy!’. I smiled back to confirm it, delighted that our different languages did not seem to be an obstacle to our communication.
I stood up and faced her and she began to unbutton my shirt. When that had been dispensed with she told me to take off my shoes. I was thankful I had worn loafers and quickly slipped them off. She unsnapped my pants and pulled the zipper down and slipped them off as I raised my feet to help her. My shorts followed and then my socks. The only thing she did not remove was my watch; a sad reminder of an unrelenting deadline. When I was completely naked she sat on the bed and appraised me. My cock was stiffening while she looked me over and she seemed pleased with what she saw. She reached up with one hand and placed it around the base of my cock while gently cradling my balls with the other. She slowly stroked me and caressed me before parting her full lips and taking the head into her warm mouth. I was no stranger to blowjobs but I knew I had never had one like I was going to receive now. Most of the girls I had dated in school had done it because they’d had too much to drink or because they felt obligated for my having taken them somewhere special or given them a gift. I couldn’t recall any of them doing it because they really wanted to and most of them were not very good at it anyway.
Yvette knew what she was doing and her enthusiasm was impossible to miss. Her tongue danced along the length of my cock like a humming bird swirling and licking at all the right places as she moved her mouth up and down my shaft with a rhythm she was born with. My balls had always been rather sensitive and I was not that comfortable with girls handling them but Yvette caressed them so tenderly that she found erogenous zones I didn’t even know I had. I was hard as a rock by now and she stopped using her hands completely. Using only her lips to slide her mouth up and down my length without touching me. I was really getting into the feeling of her oral attentions but I did not want this to be just a quickie. I put my hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her away telling her I needed to get on the bed. She stood and pulled back the covers and I lay down on the crisp clean sheet.
I was immediately overwhelmed by the fragrances that virtually assaulted my sense of smell. Her perfume, various herbs and flowers in small pots scattered about the room, her shampoo whose scent had adorned her hair as she lay sleeping on the pillows. But most of all, the natural fragrance of her. I could recognize all these things and more. I was totally intoxicated; there’s no other word for it. She got in beside me and continued where she had left off. When she had me hard and wet she put her leg over me and straddled my hips. She teasingly wiped the head of my cock against her warm moist folds, readying herself for the moment when she would slip the head into her opening. I let her control the action. Soon I felt the unmistakable feeling of her velvety vagina begin to engulf me.
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