All Sexual Activity In This Story Is Between Persons 18+ Years Old.
At ten minutes past two o’clock in the morning, on Sunday, December 13, 1936, the Eastern Railways Company’s Rhine-Seine Express pulled out of the station in Chaumont, France. As the train’s steam whistle tootled ‘Au Revoir’ through lightly falling snow, Le Conducteur pulled his savonette from his vest pocket and smiled. It had been seventy minutes since he had uncoupled his own chunky fifty-six-year-old locomotive from the Corbin twins’ eighteen-year-old cabooses, then left them doubly destroyed and locked in the new Wagon-Lit sleeper car’s Family Salon. Checking tickets for the few new night-owl passengers who had just boarded would take him another half-an-hour or so.
Horst Reiner put away his silver watch and thought, “I’ll have plenty of time to freshen up and enjoy more of the girls’ company before we arrive at Gare de L’Est at five-twenty-three.”
At the very moment the conductor snapped closed the Tissot’s hunter cover, Philippe Pique, in his three-story townhouse, two hours east in Basel, Switzerland, rocked his cock in his eighteen-year-old niece’s no longer virgin cradle and brought her to her crisis once more. Screeching her forty-six-year-old guardian’s name repeatedly, Trang Nguyen Pique bounced her thighs against his hips and shook her heels in mid-air. He flexed his cock and scraped her G-spot while he pounded against the furthest wall in her well. Again, she watered his sheets as she clawed into his triceps and came squirting while his squashed mushroom spit until the last milliliter of semen he had regenerated, since earlier fucking Dagmar Bjerke, was delivered to the doorstep of her fertile young womb.
Meanwhile, across the Rhine River at the Hotel Krafft in downtown Basel, Jens Bjerke could scarcely believe that he felt another surge in his forty-eight-year-old nuts and was ready to unleash a second sperm-horde deep into his daughter’s already well-fucked cunt. His day had been long and tiring, but the eighteen-year-old’s voluptuous nudity had been electrically inspiring. A thrilling bolt fired from his cortex to his heels and he spasmodically discharged twenty more milliliters of baby-making cream. She kneaded his back while her toes cramped and she felt his freshest glaze spurt through her cervix.
Closing her eyes and drifting into dreams, Dagmar purred, “Takk, Pappa. Jeg elsker deg så mye.”
At three-thirty, the Rhine-Seine Express lounge car was empty of passengers. Horst sat drinking cafe au lait with his assistant conductor and the train’s assigned National Gendarmerie escort. As the policeman finished recounting a news story he had heard from a friend in Strasbourg, Horst nodded and said, “Merci, François. The continuing German remilitarization in The Rhineland is worrisome to us all.” Turning to his assistant, he dropped an arm around his shoulders and continued, “I have some personal matters to attend to, Albert. Will you please handle all conductor calls until five-fifteen? I’ll be finished in time to bring us into the station.”
Albert, only twenty-two years old and proud to have been recently promoted from Junior Steward, was anxious to show that he could be the train’s master, if only on a non-stop inconsequential run through the witching hours. He said, with a too serious face, “Bien sûr, Horst, you may rely on me.” His chest swelled behind his uniform as Reiner left the table and the lounge.
Horst strolled through the First Class carriage humming bars from the Josephine Baker show tune,’Voulez-Vous de la Canne à Sucre?’ He paused at the empty compartment where he first encountered the Corbin twins. Entering, he removed their lost rail tickets from his vest and reminisced as he glanced about. The American jazz singer’s voice trilled in his mind:
Do you want some cane?
Sugar cane is crazy!
Better than a banana
Suck it by the little end.
Reiner tucked the cardboard billets back in his pocket, patted his thickened member through his wool trousers, then said, to it and himself, “Allons-y mon pote. Let’s give them more sugar!” Having already fucked the girls for their first time, in both their cunts and their assholes, he looked forward, mistakenly, to similarly initiating their sweet gosiers.
In the new Wagon-Lit, Horst momentarily wondered whether his playmates had decided on their own to escape the train in Chaumont. He smiled as he unlocked the door to the Family Salon’s primary compartment and deduced the girls must still be inside. While they might have left, they had no key and could not have secured it again from the outside. Silently shutting the slider behind himself, he flipped its bolt and changed the discreet status indicator in the hall to read, “Ne Dérangez Pas!”
On the standard double bed beneath two of the main cabin’s three large view windows, Nadine and Nanine Corbin cuddled each other under the covers. As quiet as the conductor was, their two-and-a-half hour post-coital nap morphed into a secondary sexual need which only strengthened pinbahis yeni giriş as they opened their eyes and saw their paramour. Rolling apart, they sat up beside each other, and as twins often do, exclaimed in happy unison, “Oh! Papa Horst! We’ve missed you!”
Reiner could not have been more pleased by the warm greeting and responded in kind, keeping up the parental role-play, “Allô mes douces jeunes filles. Comment tu sens-tu maintenant? No longer so sleepy, eh?”
“Non…” answered Nadine.
Her sister finished her sentence for the two of them, “… we are feeling something quite different than ‘sleepy’, now.”
“Whenever our father has had to send us to our rooms because we have misbehaved…” began Nadine.
“…We always have had to make amends, because it has hurt him so to have to punish us,” concluded Nanine.
“We are very sorry that we vexed you, Papa Horst…” Nadine said.
Picking up the thread, Nanine sincerely offered, “…May we show you our contrition?”
“Papa taught us last August a special way to show gratitude…” Nadine continued.
“…We’re sure it will convince you that we have learned your lessons, too,” finished Nanine, as the girls dropped their covers to their waists and held out beckoning arms. Horst’s plucky plump prick rubbed its head through his shorts against his scratchy uniform pants and needlessly encouraged him to take up the twins’ invitation. He beamed as he stepped toward the bed while simultaneously beginning to undress.
Immediately, the teens protested together, “Non, non, non, Papa Horst! Let us do all that for you!” Bemused and grateful, he stood bedside while four hands flashed over his buttons. In less than two minutes, he was stripped to his underwear and gartered silk stockings. Seconds later, they fished his stout stump from his shorts and gleefully massaged its rigid thirteen centimeters from its broad uncircumcised bell to its heavily hanging hairy bag.
Abandoning the bed entirely, Nadine and Nanine brought their pillows with them, then knelt on the floor before the conductor’s cock. Reiner put a paw on each naked twin’s teak-brown crown and gently held them close as they alternated licks on his sugar cane stick. He could not keep his hips still, as each girl tugged a testicle with one hand while with the other she squeezed his nearest ass cheek. He had never before felt his semen rise in in his straw so fast.
Horst groaned and wiggled as the Corbins expertly edged him to his climax, then let off just enough for him not to come. They were virgins when he fucked them, certainly, but clearly they were not neophyte cocksuckers. Clenching his gut muscles, he snorted sharply and strained to come. It was all to no avail, however, as his young faux-daughters turned the tables and continued to punish him with their exquisite torture.
Nadine and Nanine were neither insensitive to their surrogate father’s suffering, nor themselves immune to their ministrations’ impact. Each time Reiner neared his break-point and then fell back in frustration, their own anxious excitement increased. Soon enough, but not too soon for the conductor, they agreed by arcane unique telepathy to show mercy to him and to their waking libidos, too. Not stopping for anything, they pumped, sucked, squeezed and manipulated until his spout erupted upward like a fountain at Versailles.
The girls squealed their delight to see semen shoot into the air to a height twice the cock’s length. Swiftly they pulled their free hands from Horst’s buttocks and caught, as best they could, the falling cum in their cupped palms. He fired three great volleys before his spend dwindled to dribbles from his glans’ slit. They slurped his essence from every source and then kissed each other’s jizzed mouths to glean his final gobs.
Laughing, after swallowing all the conductor’s thick warm cream, Nadine and Nanine looked up open-mouthed into his amazed open face. Nadine declared, in a no-nonsense tone, “Now, you must fuck us again…”
“…But not like before…” interjected Nanine.”
Nadine clarified, “We are too horny now to wait one upon the other…”
Nanine emphatically underscored her sister, “…Yes! You must do us both together!”
Reiner was nonplussed. “Mais, je n’en ai qu’un verge,” he complained yet again, trying to get the two teens to see that their demand was unreasonable. “C’est impossible!” The twins simply grinned as they stood up and hugged their nude pulchritude against his ribbed cotton tank shirt.
Nadine cooed, “Of course you only have one! You have said so and we see it.”
“But,” picked up Nanine, while she toyed her fingers in the hairs poking from Horst’s left armpit. “You also have said ‘nothing is impossible between willing bargainers’, is that not so, Monsieur Le Conducteur?” She arched her eyebrows and shot him a look that dared him to take back his own words.
Reiner threw up his hands and asked, “What do you propose, then?”
Nadine replied saucily, “We are twins, and so are our chattes! If we pinbahis giriş lay down properly, you should be able to satisfy us together. Can’t we at least try?”
Nanine clapped her hands, then jumped back onto the bed and lay on her back with her heels spread to the corners. Excitedly, she cried out, “Deenee! Come hug me!”
Spinning away from Horst, Nadine pounced between her sister’s thighs and crouched low. The girls’ breasts bulged into an indivisible pile while their pussies aligned vertically with their pubic bones nearly touching. Nadine raised her haunches and stabilized herself on her shins as she widened her stance to match Nanine’s. She exclaimed, “Voilà! Just see if you can’t get into us easily now!”
Horst stared at the exclamation points stacked between the young girls’ buttermilk thighs and peeking at him through their brunette thatches. It seemed eminently doable and he was surprised that such a trick had never occurred to him. Licking his lips, he pushed his shorts to the floor and climbed up behind the glistening winking slices. “Alright, mes jeune filles, since you asked me,” he growled and then stuffed himself first in the lower berth.
Nanine kissed Nadine deeply and pulled her chest even tighter while the trainman stroked his length into her virgin cavity. Her heart sang and her ears popped as his thick tool stretched her walls. When he retreated, her Kegels fought back, but could not hold him. She whimpered her longing as he pulled free.
“One girl’s loss is another’s gain,” Reiner thought as he adjusted his angle up and drove himself balls-deep into Nadine. She moaned into Nanine’s mouth and clutched at her hair as the conductor’s cock crowded her cunt. Like her sister, she did her best to capture and hold the wonderful fat intruder. Like her sister, she failed and soughed her sadness as he departed.
Once more, Horst thrust into Nanine and withdrew. Once more, he found Nadine’s waiting welt, then stroked in and back. The twins loved him when he was there and agonized when he was gone. They crushed each other in their embrace as their soul-fires jointly built inexorably to a raging blaze.
Reiner was as powerful and steady as the Rhine-Seine Express itself. He huffed as he pumped untiringly in, forward, back and out. In. Forward. Back. Out. The Corbins wept for joy as fantastic, noisy, color-filled orgasms swept one after the other through their wracked tight bodies.
Horst dug his hands hard into the twins’ thrashing hips to steady them and keep his aim true. In his elation, he lost track of where he was at any moment, but never of what he was doing. His belly churned as his thigh muscles strained. Repeatedly, he unerringly switched couplings and banged home while the rollicking teens’ ever-coming cunts cajoled his reserves.
Abruptly, Reiner’s engine seized up and he shouted, “Mon Dieu!” His seed shot from his stem in a rush like he had never experienced. Nadine, sensing the jetting jism, screamed, “WEEEE! Oh! OUI!” Nanine beat her closed fists on her sister’s arched back and bawled, “NON! Moi AUSSI! I need you, TOO!”
Horst pulled his sputtering staff from Nadine, parked it deep in the younger twin and exclaimed heavily, “VOICI, Neenee! I am here for you as well!” His supercharged system sandblasted life-giving sperm to her furthest nook.
While Nanine shuddered and shook, Nadine, above her, trembled then fell forward into the bedding by the view windows. Wasted, she looked out into the snowy night, but saw nothing. The conductor, emptied at last, heaved a great sigh, then withdrew his dripping dick and flopped twisting backward against the compartment wall. Speechless, he lounged, bent like a rag doll, and relished his accomplishment.
Nanine rolled onto her left side then cuddled up to Nadine while she scissored her legs under and across Reiner’s extended thighs. Her sweaty tits slid over her sister’s ribs and her leaking chatte squished on the conductor’s hip, but she noticed none of that. Barely able to whisper, she wheezed, “Wake me in Paris…”
When Jens had sighed into his already dozing daughter’s neck, ‘You’re welcome. I love you lots, too, Sweetie. Now, let me get a little bit of sleep. We’ll do this again before we leave,’ he had hoped for more than a ninety-minute respite. But, she had hardly heard his words. She was too much sated by his double dose of love. Waking at half-past three with a yearning pang, she feared that she had only dreamt the wonderful events which seemed so real.
Dagmar blinked in the dark Hotel Krafft room. As she saw her father sleeping next to her and felt his radiant warmth, she happily exclaimed to herself, “JA!” Reaching out her hand, she lovingly stroked his stubbled jaw and breezed, “Pappa… Pappa, jeg er kåt…igjen…” She did not know that her hormones were in overdrive while her ripest egg lay in her harbor impatiently waiting for one of Philippe’s, or maybe Jens’, viral multitude to claim its victory. She only knew that she was horny.
Jens did not respond to Dagmar’s light touch. Undeterred pinbahis güvenilirmi by blankets, buttons or drawstrings, she pulled back the covers, opened his dark green silk pajama shirt and loosened his pantaloons’ waist. Returning to his mouth, she licked her right index fingertip, then traced it over his vermillion as if it were a lipstick. He snored softly around her polished nail, but did not waken.
Dagmar instinctively knew a remedy. She gently trailed her flat hand from Jens’ chin, down his throat to his sternum, then slowly circled his slightly flabby pectoral muscles before continuing lazily over his paunch to his lax pajama bottoms’ waistband. Ducking under the smooth satin-finished material, she pushed through his pubic forest to his limp penis. It promptly stiffened as she curled her fingers into a fist and squeezed against its central blood supply.
As Jens lay on his pillow, Dagmar blew a zephyr across his uncovered ear and breathily urged, “Våkn opp, Pappa… Jeg TRENGER deg… Come on, Dad… don’t ignore me… Wake up!” His eyelids fluttered, then opened in full. Turning his head, he saw clearly in the moonlight his daughter’s beaming needful face.
“Alright, Sweetie,” Jens rasped huskily. He cleared his phlegmy throat and asked, “What’s the matter? What time is it? Are we late for the airport?”
“Nei,” laughed Dagmar. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright. But I… you know, NEED you again.” She dropped her nude body on top of her father and kissed him ardently like the lover she was becoming. Her hand, in his pantaloons, actively activated his erection. She broke the kiss and added, “You can’t fool me. You need ME, too!”
Jens groaned and surrendered. He coiled his arms around Dagmar and hugged her to his torso as he returned her passionate kiss. She mewled into his mouth while she scooted her bottom forward above his belly. Using her hand as a guide, she again lowered her hips toward his groin and blindly inserted his dick’s head where she so desperately wanted it to be.
Jens bounced his ass on the bedsprings and lunged his pelvis up while Dagmar moved away her hand and replaced it with her honeyed cunt. He slid easily into her depths but was caught tight as her fly-trap petals closed on him and her rippling fitte tugged him further in. Sinking back into the mattress, he rebounded immediately and gained another three centimeters in her channel. She threw back her head, bit her bottom lip and moaned as her orgasmic orchestra warmed up in the pit.
Clutching her left hand into her breast, Dagmar willed her beating heart not to explode. At the same time, she arched her back and thrust her right hand’s middle digits into her Dad’s mouth. He avidly sucked her knuckles while grading his own flexing fingers from her armpits over her bare ribs to her voluptuous love handles. She yowled deep in her stretched throat as she ground her pubis forward and back on his.
Jens snarled and twisted his hips as he dug his heels into the bed’s footboard. Pulling Dagmar’s writhing butt hard to his lurching crotch he kept her hermetically sealed while his throbbing kuk pumped out his third prodigious load of the night. She tore at her tit as her crisis erupted at the same time, and, heedless of the neighboring patrons who might be disturbed, she shouted to the ceiling, “YES, DAD! Give me ALL of you!” As it happened, the people next door, in Rooms 414 and 418, did wake up, but they did not understand Norwegian at all and, though the outburst was loud, it did not continue long enough for them to complain.
Dagmar’s cinnamon mid-neck length bobbed hair hung in dank strands around her shining flushed apple-cheeks as she dropped her head over Jens and kissed flurries on his sweat-beaded brow, nose, cheeks and jowls. “Takk igjen, Pappa,” she sighed, then rolled onto her left side without relinquishing her grip on his body, so that he naturally followed with her. Straightening her legs, she allowed his diminished dick to slither from her pussy while she kissed him more sweetly. With her eyes closed, she then whispered, “I think I can sleep better now, Dad. God natt…”
In the Pique townhouse, five kilometers and another world away from the Hotel Krafft, the oak grandfather clock’s Whittington chimes previewed the hour before its solemn leather-padded brass hammer counted out four rich mellow bongs. Three floors up, in the master bedroom, neither Trang nor Philippe heard the announcement through the room’s closed solid wood door. She lay on her left side, facing her guardian and curled into him, but around the drying wet-spot that her squirting fluids had made when he punctured her virgin hymen. Newly twice-fucked to emotional exhaustion and spiritual satisfaction, she slept as if in a chrysalis awaiting her ultimate transformation.
Philippe, however, lay on his back with his eyes wide open, staring at his vaulted ceiling’s massive beams. His mind was on something else that was equally as hard as the oak clock case or bedroom door; something which had been his faithful wizard’s wand during every witching hour for the past thirty-five years. Sometimes he was alone, and sometimes with a lady friend, but always when it woke him, it insisted on attention. This was the first morning he found himself abed with a nubile teen whom he had just despoiled.