His name was Luke. He was so beautiful. His skin was velvety soft and darker than the night. He would moisten his lips with his tongue, the rare pink against his dark lips enough to make me sigh and beckon me closer.
We met on an outmoded train bound for Rostock in former Eastern Germany. I was on an adventure with a couple of friends, to practice German or so we told our parents and the see the remnants of Eastern Germany a decade after the fall of the Berlin Wall.
This final stretch was long. Outside the landscape blurred to nuances of green, cut with grey high-rises and in between, the evidence of people building new, Western housing. Inside, the open compartments were dreary, the fabric on the seat threadbare and everything in a brown/beige color scheme.
Luke was travelling with a friend, shorter than himself. They sat across from each other by the window and spoke that round African French that I couldn’t get my head around. They were rambunctious, laughing, and animated, so that none of us three, blonde girls, sitting across the aisle, could keep our eyes away.
On the table between them, they had a bag of sunflower seeds. Luke offered us some. We giggled our way through language, finding out that none of us spoke the same ones, but for me, it didn’t matter. I was completely smitten. I wanted to touch Luke’s skin so much so that my fingers tingled. And there he was, beckoning me closer with his dark eyes and that pink tongue.
I sat down beside him, immediately feeling the heat from his body. Our smiles wide to begin with as he showed me how to remove the pesky coat from the sunflower seeds. I wanted those deft fingers touching me instead of the sunflower seeds, preferably flicking my clit. He held a seed up to my mouth. I took the seed and sucked his finger, tasting his dark skin.
Our smiles were gone, replaced by countenances of need and want. His hand gripped my hip and I let his finger go.
‘Avec moi,’ he breathed and stood abruptly, showing me the arousal, bulging in his jeans.
I told my friends that I would be back in a little while and accepted the large hand, Luke held out for me. We jolted down the aisle, me in front of him, feeling his hardness. I touched it, making him groan, which in turn made my knees weak with lust.
We found a closed compartment. Luke locked the door, and I closed the curtains towards the aisle, his hands already stroking my arms and my hips.
‘I need to see all of you,’ I told him, even though he didn’t understand English. I yanked at his clothes,
‘Une tigresse,’ he smiled and shed his clothes.
The sight of him, naked, in front of me, his hand supporting his erection made my jaw drop. In that moment, I wished for a camera or at least photographic memory. He was majestic. My very pale fingertips ran over his ebony skin. I moved closer to kiss his chest, his free hand clutching my ass.
I trailed my kisses further down to his shaft, the memory of which still makes me quiver. That was what a cock should always look like. Tall, proud, and ready to pounce. I kissed the very tip before licking the length. Anticipation made us both breathe heavily. I pushed him back on the seat, already on my knees between his legs.
‘Non, en haut, maintenant, tigresse.’ The words were desperate demands. Luke picked me up, spreading my legs. My moisture leaked down my thighs. His voice deep and round.
‘Lentement,’ I didn’t know, if he was telling me or himself, but by the strength of his arms, he lowered me on to his cock ever so slowly. My core was burning with sensation, stretching to accommodate him. Every nerve screaming, until he was completely sheathed.
Luke moistened his lips again and swirled his tongue around my nipple. The current of pleasure made me rock my hips, moving him in and out. The sum of sensations almost too much.
And then, Luke used his dexterous fingers to flick my clit. I screamed at the assault and he drowned the sound with a hungry kiss.
I was at the point of no return. My hips gaining in speed. Luke’s fingers sending jolts of current to my clit and his mouth roaming my chest. My core flashed with the first touch of orgasm, my walls pulsating his shaft as the orgasm took flight.
As the aftershocks of orgasm convulsed through my body, Luke lifted me off him to my audible displeasure. He landed me on weak knees on the floor just in front of his glorious cock. I welcomed him between my lips. His hand gripping my blonde hair, controlling my speed. I strained to take as much of his hardness as I possibly could, but even with my zeal, I could only take half his length.
Luke licked his lips, his breath hitched in his throat. His salty seed hit the back of my mouth in bursts as he came. I swallowed to my heart’s content. When he withdrew from my mouth, he wiped a smear from the side of my mouth, letting me suck his thumb.
‘Chère tigresse,’ Luke said, his voice husky.
We were both spent and the minutes stretched as we had our arms around each other. Conversation was needless and we wouldn’t have been able to understand each other anyway, but it didn’t matter. We existed in a small vacuum of time, speeding through the German countryside.
Slowly we resurfaced from our tryst and got dressed. Luke took my hand and led me back to my friends. Of course they wanted to know the details, but this is the first time I share them. The tryst, Luke and I shared on board the train to Rostock was without words, without description, and for many years it remained that way, until now, that I am ready to share the glorious Luke and the sunflower seeds.