The fragrance of perfume alerted me to the woman. Her fragrance was rich and exotic, redolent of the tropics, sensual. She looked at the vacant seat then checked her ticket. Satisfied this was her seat, she placed her shoulder bag on the table then lifted her suitcase to push it up to the luggage rack. She was too petite for this and, stretching on tiptoe, struggled with the case.

"Permit me," I murmured, sliding from my seat. Standing in the aisle, behind the woman, I reached over her and pushed the suitcase on to the rack. In the restricted space I took the opportunity to press myself firmly into her rear, feeling its enticing fullness through her skirt.

The woman slipped into the vacant seat. She was flushed but gave me a quizzical smile. "Thank you, Monsieur. You are too kind."

Her long, dark red skirt fitted snugly around her rear and the stretch of the light camisole across her chest suggested good breasts. The well-coiffed hair, impeccable make-up and manicured hands all signified an elegant woman. I guessed her to be in her late thirties. I enjoyed older women. I liked their more voluptuous figures and sexually I found them to be both skillful and demanding.

She took a book from her bag, Web Design and Small Business. What a surprise.

"Madame travels to Nice?"

"No Monsieur, Lyons." A pause. "And Monsieur?"

I nodded. "I have a week's vacation in Nice."

"Alone, Monsieur?"

Again I nodded.

"No doubt Monsieur intends to become intimate with as many young women as possible."

I was taken aback by the directness of her comment and I found her knowing smile disconcerting. But I responded truthfully. "Yes Madame, I do."

I changed the subject. "Excuse me, Madame, but I notice the title of your book. I work in the Internet software industry. Are you also in the Internet field?"

She shook her head. "No Monsieur, I own a ladies fashion boutique in Lyons. I have been in Paris to design a Web site for my business."

She opened her book. Disappointed, I returned to my report.

I had trouble concentrating. The woman's perfume was seductive and I kept thinking about her ripe bottom. I glanced across at her. She was studying me, almost as if coming to some decision. Then she gave me a purposeful smile.

I felt her leg brush against mine, then very discreetly, her foot was placed on my seat, resting invitingly between my thighs. Beneath the table, she had stretched her leg across the space between our seats. I looked at the woman. Her lips parted in unmistakable invitation and gently she nudged my crotch with her foot.

The high-heeled shoe left most of her foot bare and I brushed along her instep, stroking the sensuous arch, playing with the finely structured ankle. It took but a moment to slip off the shoe. Then I began to fondle her manicured toes, separating them, probing their cleavage. Extending each toe in turn, lightly rubbing and stretching, I massaged all the toes of her foot. The woman's eyes had closed when, very deliberately, I pressed her foot into my crotch.

She opened her eyes and for several moments she did not react. Then, with a knowing smile, she began to rub the bulge in my pants with her foot. As her stimulation became more vigorous, I pressed my burgeoning erection harder against her foot.

"If Monsieur would permit me to buy him coffee, perhaps he could explain to me some features of the Internet."

I snapped back to reality and the realization of my very public arousal. "I would be delighted to accept Madame's offer," I replied. I slipped the woman's shoe on to her foot and she carefully withdrew her leg. She slid from her seat and proceeded towards the restaurant car. I followed her.

Madame stopped outside the vacant toilette of the second car. She murmured, "I think this will do," then opened the door and stepped inside, pulling me after her. The toilette contained a commode and a hand basin set in a vanity with a small mirror on the wall. The space was confined and we were squeezed together. Locking the door, Madame placed her bag on the vanity, then smiled at my bewildered expression.

"You appeared to enjoy my derrière, Monsieur. And your foreplay with my foot was quite delightful. I notice that your penis has responded quite vigorously to my attentions, so if Monsieur would like to make use of his erection, I would appreciate sexual intercourse with him. Here. Now. We should not be disturbed in here. Of course, if Monsieur finds me too old for his taste, I shall understand."

I was stunned, disbelieving. But the woman's hand continued stroking the swelling in my pants and the distinctive bouquet of female arousal emanated from her. This was real! How could I refuse?

"I enjoy more mature ladies, Madame, and I find you very seductive. I would be delighted to have sex with you. I hope I can perform to your satisfaction."

She smiled. "I believe you can, Monsieur. I shall be the hors-d'oeuvre for your week in Nice."

Madame was eager. She unbuckled my belt hurriedly and unzipped me. Then, sliding her hand into my briefs, she extracted my cock. She inspected it, caressing the shaft, playing over the glans with skillful fingers.

"Oh Monsieur," she breathed, wrapping both hands around my erection. "Such a handsome penis. And so big and strong."

I seized her bottom, filling my hands with her buttocks, squeezing and kneading them mercilessly as I ground my swollen cock into the curve of her belly. Madame responded by driving her pelvis into me.

Turning her, I pinned her against the vanity and jammed the hard ridge of my erection into her rear, pounding her buttocks fiercely. As I fumbled with the fastening of her skirt, Madame slipped off her camisole and pulled down the lace cups of her brassiere to free her breasts. She turned to tear open my shirt, scattering buttons in her haste, then she crushed her breasts against my chest. Squeezing the sumptuous mounds, I stroked their curves, letting the heavy flesh slide beneath my touch. I rolled her hardened nipples between my fingers, feathering the sensitive tips before sucking on them, one by one. Madame whimpered and pressed her breast deeper into my mouth.

Dragging down my pants and briefs, she stroked my tumescent cock with an expertise that left me throbbing powerfully, insistently. "Madame," I gasped, struggling for control. I had to bring her to orgasm.

The skirt was so snug that Madame had to work it over her hips and rear to let it slide down and pool around her ankles. I slipped my hand inside the waistband of her red lace panties, stretching them as I stroked luxuriant pubic hair. I cupped her mons, then gently rolled the hidden bud of her clitoris. Madame's hips jerked under my touch. I insinuated my hand between her legs to probe deeper and pulled the panties down to her thighs. She whimpered and backed against the vanity as I stirred her with my fingers.

I sat her on the vanity and put her legs on my shoulders. She leaned back to steady herself with her hands and, as the panties stretched taut around her knees, I could see a tell-tale wet spot. I pressed my stiff cock into her moist cleft and began to work her, rhythmically, nudging her shrouded clitoris with the tip of my cock. Madame gasped and her hips twitched in response.

Tearing off the panties, I put the woman's right leg over my shoulder, and placed her left leg along the vanity. Sitting on the commode, I brushed back the hair between her thighs and spread wide her labia, exposing her most private parts.

"Monsieur, you permit me no modesty," she cried in protest. I inspected the moist pink flesh, the intricate folds and hollows and the orifice, the essence of her femaleness, wet and inviting. The heavy musk of sexual heat was intoxicating.

"None, Madame. A woman as succulent as you has no need for modesty."

I traced intricate patterns on her swollen labia and slipped my fingers between the folds of her inner lips, stroking along them as they distended. Madame moaned.

I buried my face between her thighs, inhaling her smell, feeling the hairs brush my face, then I ate her. I licked along the swollen labia and the slippery inner lips, savoring the moist, pink flesh. When I drew back the hood, her clitoris was no longer shy. Engorged, the little floret clamored for attention and I caressed it with my tongue, playing with it, teasing it, fluttering over it, then I sucked on the hard little nub.

Madame shrieked with pleasure. She seized my hair, pulling my face from between her thighs and tried to close her legs.

"Madame wishes me to stop?"

For several moments she did not move, gasping for breath, then slowly she released me and leaning back, again spread her legs and lifted her vulva to my mouth.

The flower between Madame's legs was now in extravagant bloom and its scent filled the room. My tongue began a rhythm; lapping at her juices, fluttering along her inner lips, then playing for long moments with her clitoris. She moaned loudly in time with my tonguing and I increased the tempo and the intensity.

Her hips were rocking to my rhythm when slowly I inserted a finger into her vagina. Madame cried out and seized my hand to halt the penetration. I waited, holding her while my tongue continued its rhythmical beat on her clitoris. After several moments, she released my hand and pressed her hips forward.

I eased two fingers gently into her. Madame groaned as I stretched her vagina, exploring the moist, enveloping walls of her tunnel. I pushed my fingers in as far as the second knuckle, stirring parts deep inside her. Her hips lifted to my probing fingers and I adjusted my thrusts to match the tempo of my tongue on her clitoris. My fingers gave her vagina no respite. Her moans grew primal as her pelvis rocked back and forth, her bottom thumping on the vanity. I judged that her climax must be near.

Suddenly Madame's fingers twisted in my hair and she lifted up my head. "I want your penis inside me," she gasped through clenched teeth.

Slipping down from the vanity, she pushed me so my back was against the wall, still seated on the commode, and took my hard cock in her hand. She pumped it frantically, causing fluid to pearl from its tip.

"Madame," I gasped, " I shall come in your hand."

"No Monsieur, you must come inside me."

She straddled my thighs to position herself over my cock.

"I shall ride you," she breathed hoarsely.

Madame lowered herself on to me. She steadied herself, holding my penis in the mouth of her vagina. I thought I would explode.

"Madame," I shouted desperately.

She put her arms around my shoulders. The juices flooding from her oiled us both. Then, in one smooth downward motion, Madame impaled herself on my scorching erection.

Her cry filled the room. "Monsieur, you stretch me to the limit."

For several seconds she writhed in my lap, then I felt her thighs tighten and she lifted herself. Sliding up my rigid shaft then down again, Madame began to ride me as she'd promised. I held her slim waist, lifting her on the upward stroke, then driving her down hard to the root of my shaft, working her along the full length of my swollen member. After several slow, smooth strokes the cadence quickened and her rhythmical grunts again signaled that climax was imminent.

The tempo increased and Madame's ride grew wilder and more intense. Her breasts, jiggling wildly, slapped my face and her juices flooded us as she plunged on to my cock with uncontrolled abandon. Her cries were a cacophony that filled the small space as the ride became frantic. Up and down, faster and faster until, in a final spasm, Madame climaxed. Her orgasm surged through her like a tidal wave, consuming her in a paroxysm of wild convulsions.

With savage power I slammed into her, my feral thrusts lifting her bodily, battering Madame's small frame. I pumped in a furious assault that drove her continued orgasm in a shrieking crescendo. As she peaked, Madame writhed frenziedly on my seething cock. Then, with a monstrous roar of release, I exploded deep inside her, erupting again and again and again, blasting into her. We merged into a thrashing, moaning orgasmic animal.

Spent, satiated, emptied, we rested. Madame remained astride me, my cock still rooted inside her while I caressed her, stroking her back, kissing her shoulders, squeezing her ripe bottom.

"Monsieur was very fierce," she murmured.

"I hope that I did not hurt you Madame. I would find that most distressing."

"Oh no, Monsieur, but I am very tender. You have a big, rampant penis and took me with great ferocity and huge penetration. It was wonderful." She pulled down her bra further to lift a breast to my face and press her nipple into my mouth. I licked around her areola then sucked hard and she sighed contentedly. "I find post-coital play so delicious." Her other nipple was offered to my mouth.

A violent knock on the door startled us. "How much longer will you be?" a man's angry voice demanded. "You've finished your sex, so come out or I'll call the conductor."

Suddenly I realized that anyone passing the toilette would have heard our sounds of lust and would be in no doubt we were copulating. I wondered how many people had listened to our performance.

"Ignore him," I muttered.

She shook her head. "I would like to continue our after-play Monsieur, but it would be embarrassing to be publicly exposed like this."

Lifting herself from my lap, Madame let my flaccid cock slip from her vagina. She pulled up her brassiere, settling the soft breasts into their cups, then pulled on her camisole.

"I'll give you another minute, then I'm going for the conductor!" The man sounded apoplectic.

Madame stepped into her panties and I looked at the cream coating her thighs and vulva and smeared in her fur. "My panties will be wet," she said grimacing.

"Let me keep them Madame, as a remembrance?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Oh no Monsieur, I cannot. It would not be proper for a woman of my age to be seen in public without panties."

Her reply was so incongruous that I burst into laughter. But I could hardly insist. Madame pulled up her skirt, wriggling it over her bottom. As I fastened it, I squeezed the delicious spheres once more. She pulled up my briefs and carefully slipped my wet cock into them.

Smiling she said, "I prefer your penis when it is big and hard, Monsieur. You must take care of it. It should bring pleasure to many ladies in Nice." I buttoned up my shirt, minus some buttons, and zipped up my pants.

When we came out from the toilette several people were clustered around the door. Most giggled as we emerged. Madame blushed.

"About time. Find somewhere else to fuck next time," the enraged man hissed. Madame ignored him and I restrained my impulse to punch him.

"Was it as good as it sounded?" a woman whispered to Madame.

She glanced slyly at me and murmured, "Oh yes. He gave a virtuoso performance."

I, too, blushed.

Madame read her book, while I tried to concentrate on my report. It was difficult. She had the glow of a sexually fulfilled woman and the unmistakable bouquet of sex surrounded her. From their knowing glances, our neighbors knew we had been intimate. Whenever I thought of our wild coupling, I became aroused again. It was almost a relief when the address system announced the train was approaching Lyons. Madame slipped from her seat and proceeded to the toilette. When she returned, she looked completely refreshed. She was again immaculately presented, unrecognizable as the wild, orgasmic creature I had been with.

Madame gathered her bag and turned to me. "Would Monsieur assist with my suitcase?"

I lifted down her case and carried it out to the platform.

She smiled up at me. "A brief explanation, Monsieur. I am a happily married woman with a husband who keeps me fully sexed. But occasionally I enjoy rougher, harder sex. Then I want to be serviced by a young man with a big, aggressive penis. When you pressed yourself into my derrière, I knew that you were the young man I was looking for. And since we were both eager, our intercourse proceeded with trés grande vitesse."

I was speechless. I had hoped for a little discreet fondling but Madame had used me to service her sexual needs. But after such fabulous sex, I had no complaints.

"Thank you Monsieur, your performance exceeded my wildest expectations. Not only did you give me a sensational ride but your delicious tonguing was an unexpected delight. You were outstanding, I shall long remember our copulation. I hope I was not too disappointing for you."

"The sex was superb, Madame. I would like more. In better circumstances I can promise you the most complete and thorough servicing you will ever experience."

She kissed me decorously on each cheek. "That would be nice Monsieur. Next time perhaps." She extended her clenched fist. "A gift, in remembrance."

I closed my hand around her small fist to take the gift and she turned and walked away. Transfixed again by the motion of Madame's provocative rear, I raised my hand to inhale the odors from her damp panties. How would she explain their absence to her husband I wondered?

I spent a memorable week in Nice. The women on the beaches were delectable and my cock performed valiantly. But, good though it was, the sex did not compare with Madame's orgasmic ride.

I muse over Madame's panties, a flimsy wisp of diaphanous lace, feminine, revealing, sexy. Female fragrance permeates them and the smell of sex still lingers. When I hold them to my face my cock hardens and I want to taste again the succulent structures between Madame's legs. I must ride the TGV again -- to Lyons, to find Madame. I want the "next time."