Seated in the famous Champagne Bar of the Euorstar Terminal at London's St Pancras Station, Nick toyed with his champagne flute. With one eye on the giant overhead clock, he was getting anxious about the departure of the Paris train. Then he saw Cathy approaching. She looked stunning, turning several heads as she alighted from the escalator.

She was wearing a long-sleeved double-breasted cerise suede jacket, nipped tight at the waist and flared out in pleats over her hips, the shortest-possible dark blue pleated mini-skirt, rose fishnet stockings and midnight blue leather boots. The overall effect was of a self-confident gamine young woman striding across the crowded station concourse...with just a jacket on, the skirt being so brief. Cathy seemed wholly unphased by the admiring glances she received from the bar staff as she walked up to Nick and kissed him affectionately on the neck, before taking the stool opposite.

It was more than three months since the couple had seen each other, though they'd kept in touch on an almost daily basis by mobile phone and internet messages. Their last - their only - meeting had been a clandestine rendezvous in a country hotel, where Cathy's cross-dressing had gone undetected by their fellow guests. The sex during that weekend had been greatly enhanced by the intervention of a little waitress named Poppy.

"Hi sexy man. Sorry I'm late."

"No worries, we've still got an hour. May I say that you look absolutely sensational - and I think there's about one hundred other red-blooded males in this terminal at the moment who think the same as I do."

"Why, thank you sweetie. You don't look so bad yourself."

He slid a flute in front of her. "I poured you some fizzy."

"Wonderful. I hope we're going to be having a lot more of this stuff this weekend. Cheers!"

"Me too. Cheers. Get all the travel details I texted you?"

"Yeah. First class, eh? You are a clever one."

"Alibi stand up to scrutiny?"

"I just told work I was off up to Birmingham to visit my mum for a couple of days. Your's okay?"

"I said I had a string of business appointments, so I'd be staying in a hotel in London. Go home Friday. I think you'll like the place we're staying at in Paris, honey: it's very close to the Arc du Triomphe."

"So what else have you got planned for us? Le shopping, perhaps?"

"Definitely. And a visit to the Musee d'Orsay art gallery, plus a special surprise for tomorrow night: a night club with a difference." He refilled their flutes. "I'll tell you all about it downstairs. Tres sexy!"

They sped through immigration without a hitch, then found an empty bench in the departures hall beneath the station's main platforms. Cathy clutched Nick's hand tenderly. "So tell your Cathy about this 'tres sexy' surprise you've got planned for us? Does it involve dressing up?"

"Undressing, actually. I've been given the address of a very exclusive Parisian swingers' club."

"I say, that is sexy!"

"You happy about that?"

"How d'you mean?"

"Sharing me with others?"

She squeezed his hand tightly. "I ain't sharing you with nobody, darling! But I've no objection if people want to watch us at it. It'd be quite a turn-on. I don't think I've ever done it in front of an audience!"

Just then, the boarding announcement came over the tannoy and they walked up the inclined escalator, pulling their cases. They located their window seats at the far end of carriage A, and Nick was relieved to find that it was half-empty, with the nearest travellers three rows away from them.

Cathy hooked her boot under Nick's calf and with a conspiratorial grin and asked: "Hey sexy man, d'you suppose we've got to wait until we get to the hotel?"

"Wait for what?"

"What d'you think?"

Nick turned to inspect the carriage. "Bit risky, isn't it?"

"Let's live dangerously on this holiday, shall we?"

Ever the cautious half of the partnership, Nick reflected for a few moments.

"Right, here's what we do. Once the train pulls out of the station. there's usually a bit of 'musical chairs' with people moving to unoccupied seats. Then the conductor should be along to check our tickets, then just before the train enters the tunnel, they close the fire doors between the carriages. After that, there's not much likelihood of anyone wandering down this way.

"How long have I got to wait?"

"Quarter of an hour?"

"I think I'll pop to the loo and get us some more fizzy at the same time."

With which, Cathy scampered off, returning within ten minutes armed with four miniature bottles of champagne. As she placed two at Nick's side with a plastic flute, she whispered in his ear: "I've left my knickers off!"

"Good girl!"

She rapidly consumed one of her two bottles, then moved around to Nick's side of the table, hoisted her feet onto the seat cushion and snuggled up to his side. He moved a protective arm across to rest on her bottom just as the conductor appeared. First he carefully examined both tickets, then before placing them back on the table, glanced down at Cathy's exposed thighs and the lower part of her uncovered cheek bottoms. She remained feigning sleep as Nick attempted to pull down the bottom of her mini-skirt to hide her modesty, though it was too late to conceal a tantalising glimpse of her beautiful pink 'dark star'. The guard smirked, nodded at Nick and moved down the carriage stroking his crotch.

Without moving her head or opening her eyes, Cathy asked: "All clear?"

"Yup. The lights should be dimmed any minute now - I just heard the fire doors closing."

As the lighting levels dropped and the external train noise entering the compartment changed in pitch, Cathy slowly slid Nick's fly zip down and took out his semi-erect cock. She only had to move her head a few inches to place it in her mouth. Then she began slowly and sensuously to fellate him, both with her lips and with one hand. He murmured his appreciation and gently stroked her bottom, moving his hand in towards its crease. He touched her star-shaped opening then slipped the tip of his index finger inside. She wriggled her bum in appreciation, sucking all the while.

After some minutes, he paused his finger-fucking, indicating the approach of his orgasm. It was big - the result of three frustrating days of celibacy - and Cathy's expectant mouth was barely able to contain all the lovely warm cum which flooded in. She refrained from swallowing, instead holding it - savouring its special taste - in her mouth. She slipped her lips away from Nick's cock and turned her head to look up at him. She smiled invitingly. He bent forward and kissed her open-mouthed so that his own semen was passed to him by his lover. They held the kiss for as long as possible, then swallowed almost simultaneously.

She smiled impishly. "Sharing's so sexy, isn't it?"

"Wonderful. You've got to be the world's sexiest cock-sucker, sweetie."

"And that must be one of the world's biggest loads of cum you've just delivered! How d'you manage it?"

"'Cause I haven't had a 'Cathy wank' for three days, that's how!"

"Darling, how sweet! Do you really call them 'Cathy wanks'?"

"Of course: because I wank thinking of you." He kissed her tenderly and could still discern lingering hints of his own semen - a taste he'd only recently become familiar with.

As the train emerged into the daylinght, Cathy clutched Nick's hand. "Do you realise, you've just become a member of the Seventy-five Metre Club?"

"The what?"

"Well you know the Mile High Club - when passengers get to fuck air stewardesses? Well I just gave you a blow job seventy-five metres beneath the bottom of the English Channel!"
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The remainder of the journey was uneventful. Cathy remained snuggled against her lover until the Eurostar train pulled into a bustling Gare du Norde station, shortly before the evening rush hour. Not wanting to face a crush on the Metro, they grabbed a taxi, after first buying some chocolate pastries from a concession on the station concourse.

The Hotel Balmoral lived up to their expectations in every respect. Tucked away in a quiet street close to the Arc du Triomphe, it had a pleasant old world decor and atmosphere. Taking the miniscule elevator to the second floor, they were thrilled to find a four-poster bed in the centre of their spacious bedroom. "I've always wanted to sleep in a four-poster bed," cooed Cathy, hugging Nick around the waist. She was soon busily unpacking her outfits and hanging them in the wardrobe, dressed only in her stockings and panties. Nick uncorked a bottle of champagne from his case as Cathy disappeared into the bathroom.

Pushing the bathroom door ajar to hand her her glass, he found her seated on the loo. "Sorry, sweetie. Didn't mean to interupt you."

"That's okay, I'm only doing pee-pee."

"Really? Do you always sit on the loo to piss?"

"Of course!" She seemed slightly affronted. "It's much more 'girlie'."

"Can I use the loo when you've finished?"

"Sure. Can I watch?" She stood up and dabbed the tip of her penis with a toilet tissue.

Nick, getting out his cock, replied: "Be my guest."

Standing behind him, Cathy took hold of Nick's shaft and directed the stream into the bowl. She looked up at him adoringly: "Sexy, isn't it? And just look at the lovely message I left you in the railway carriage?"

Nick glanced down at a beautiful red lipstick ring all the way around his shaft. "I'm certainly not going to wash that off in the shower!"
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After taking an afternoon nap stretched out on their giant four-poster, the couple dressed in casual clothes in readiness to take a stroll up to see the Arc du Triomphe. At dusk, the view from its rooftop was breathtaking. Nick believed it out-ranked the panoramas from atop the Eiffel Tower, without all the hassle of the crowded lifts. Two converging lines of street lights met at a dazzlingly-bright point on the near-horizon.

"That's the Place de la Concorde. We can easily walk it in about half-an-hour tomorrow; it's all downhill and there's loads of window-shopping along the Champs Elysees."

"Only window shopping?"

"No, we'll go in if you want. But it'll be pricey. What had you in mind?"

"You're going to be really shocked."

"Not a glass dildo?"

"Nope."

"What then?"

She whispered into his ear: "A really sexy corset!"

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "Wow. Wouldn't that be something? Making love to my Cathy if she was only wearing a corset?"

She giggled. "Yes, I'd been thinking something along those lines!"

With his arm around her shoulder, Nick led Cathy to the staircase down from their rooftop viewing gallery and they went in search of a quiet bistro for their supper.
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The following morning, after a continental breakfast taken in the hotel's tiny cafe-restaurant, the couple set off to walk down the Champs Elysees. It was a dazzlingly sunny day, with sunlight bouncing off the flowering chestnut trees which lined the swish Parisian avenue. Cathy was wearing a short cotton floral print dress, pale pink stockings and confortable red suede slip-on shoes. She carried her suede jacket over her arm. panels.

Nick was relieved to find that few of the shops were open at this hour, though this didn't prevent numerous stops to admire shoes and jewellery and handbags - all without price tags. They stopped beside a high-class lingerie shop. At the back of a confusingly-complicated array of undergarments, Nick spotted a corset on a headless tailor's dummy. It was extremely waisted, made of black satin with vertical fuchsia panels. Along its botton were two sets of black lacy suspenders decorated with fuchsia bows, with a scooped bustline edged with fuchsia lace. Nick pinched Cathy's hand and nodded at the dummy. She was awestruck.

"Tell you what: let's carry on down to the art gallery - beat the crowds - then come back here after lunch. And if it isn't outrageously expensive, I'll buy it for you as you 'holiday present'? She stood on tip toes and kissed him on the lips in affirmation.

Crowds were already being disgorged from tourist coaches when they arrived at the Gare d'Orsay around 10:30am. The zig-zag queuing system had them marshalled though the ticket barriers within 15 minutes and then they were standing inside the vast vaulted interior of one of the city's most impressive former-railway stations.

"What would you like to see first?"

"Is there a corset collection?"

"Not here, darling; that's back in our hotel bedroom later."

They decided to take in the museum's famous furniture collection, then finish by touring the art galleries. An hour later, they returned to the main concourse. Cathy only wanted to take a coffee and a sandwich, rejecting the offer of a full-blown French lunch because of her impatience to return to the corset shop.

"First, can I just show you one rather special oil painting?"

"Sure."

Nick lead the way through a series of dimly-lit mini-galleries, where visitors were intently studying rare works from the museum's Impressionists collection. At the back of Gallery XVI, a small clutch of admirers was standing in front of Gustave Courbet's notorious 'Origins of the World'. Most had audio-phones clasped to their ears. The couple joined the throng at the back, Cathy standing in front of Nick.

What the crowd was looking at was a heavily-gilded frame enclosing a superbly-detailed, life-size oil painting of a voluptuous naked female torso. At its centre was an opened vagina, surmounted by a huge bush of black pubic hair, with its outer labia lips beckoning invitingly. Nick moved closer to Cathy, as he felt an erection growing. He pressed his cock against her bottom and she responded by pushing her bum back. He was now rock-hard and could feel the trickle of pre-cum seeping into his boxer shorts. Cathy slipped a hand behind her back and touched his crotch. She began a slow up-and-down motion. Nick looked over his shoulder to check that there was no-one standing behind him. He leant forward. "Isn't that the most beautiful cunt you've ever seen?" She nodded and went on stroking.

"I think I'm about to have an accident," he whispered.

"Lucky you."

She contunued stroking. Within another half-minute Nick had ejaculated inside his shorts. Cathy stopped her stroking as she sensed his cock's spasms. They took a couple of cautious steps back from the crowd.

Cathy asked coyly: "You like?"

"Mmmm I like a lot! Now give me a couple of minutes to clean up in the gents and we'll go and take a look at that sexy corset of yours. Mind you, I'll want to see it on - might even have to come into the changing room with you?"

"Yes please!"
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Mid-way up the Camps Elysees, the shop was now open and busy with customers. They strode in and asked to see the corset which was on show in the window. A haughty, middle-aged sales lady surveyed Cathy: "Quelle size? Nick quickly translated. "Douse."

She looked at Cathy's figure. "Et les poitrines (breasts)?"

"Petites (small)."

She returned with a plastic-wrapped replica of the corset from the window.

They were directed to a corridor leading to the shop's changing rooms. Nick carried the corset over his arm. He wasn't going to miss this experience for the world! In the tiny cubicle Cathy stripped off, then cautiously slid her slender figure into the corset's rigidly-constraining shape. After wriggling a bit, she finally had it fitted. It was very tight, but for her it felt extremely sexy. She turned to face away from Nick so that he could lace the back panel. He stroked the cheeks of her bottom as he finished and she turned to face him. Her rigid cock projected just below the corset's frilly bottom edge.

"What do you think?"

"Fantastic!"

"I think I'm going to keep it on. Maybe we could 'play' back at the hotel?"

Nick smiled then left the cubicle to go and pay with his credit card. As he was tucking the receipt into his wallet he glanced up at a display behind the counter. "What are those, madame?"

"Pour 'le spanking', monsieur. It is very English, I think?"

Nick took a 50 Euro note from his wallet and slipped the spanking paddle into his pocket.
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Cathy was in high spirits, intoxicated by wearing her new corset. Nick undressed and slipped into a towelling robe, then raided the room's mini-bar for a new bottle of champagne. "Don't you think it's a bit decadent - drinking champagne at 4 o'clock in the afternoon?" he asked, passing her a glass.

"Thoroughly!" She downed it in two gulps, then held out the glass to be refilled.

They sat together on the edge of the bed, both tipsy and aroused. Cathy slid her hand up Nick's thigh. "Thank you so much for my wonderful holiday present, darling." She bent forward and licked his cockhead.

"You said in the shop you wanted to play?"

Coyly looking down at her empty glass, she conceded: "Yes, but it's something we've never done before."

"You know me: 'in for a penny, in for a pound.' Ask away."

"Would you tie me up?"

"What, you mean with your hands behind your back?"

She grasped one of the bedposts. "No - to this bedstead. I want to be tied to the corners of this four-poster, spread-eaged, face down. Then fucked!"

"What are going to use as ropes?"

"Stockings?"

With that it was settled. From her seemingly depthless suitcase, Cathy produced two pairs of tights, ripping them asunder to make the ropes. Onto a big bath towel, she semi-collapsed face-downwards, arms and legs akimbo, so that Nick could attached her ankles and wrists to the bed's four corner posts. He knelt beside her and tenderly stroked the cheeks of her upturned bottom. Then he slid a small cushion under her tummy so that she 'pouted' upwards invitingly.

"Can I ask one small favour before we start?"

"Anything, master."

"Can I spank you?" Cathy's head switched round. She was suddenly wide awake.

"Spank me? With what?"

"Err...I bought this in the corset shop." He produced the paddle from the pocket of his bathrobe.

"You darling man! Don't you just think of everything? Spank away, sexy man, spank away!"

He started tentatively, then gained confidence with every downward thrust onto her tender posterior, which quickly turned pink. "Want me to stop?"

"No master. More please!"

Now the paddle was leaving visible red marks across her raw bum cheeks. He laid it on the bedside table and stroked her. "So hot, babe. We need to find something to cool those bruises down." He bent forward and kissed one bum cheek.

"Don't worry about the bruises, sweetie; just get on with fucking Cathy's man-pussie!"

Nick flipped off the bathrobe and climbed onto the bed. He was pleased to discover that his erect cock had been leaking pre-cum and he used this partly to lube himself and also to moisten Cathy's inviting entrance. As his cockhead slipped easily into her, she sighed with gratitude then buried her face in the bed so that her mumbled obscenities would be muffled.

"You fucker! You beautiful fucker! Oh fuck! Fuck me, you beautiful fucker!"

The excitement of the spanking session and the bum-fucking meant that Nick's climax was rapid and copious. As he tensed to ejaculate, he withdrew his cock, allowing warm spunk to be splattered over Cathy's tender posterior. There were at least eight lovely spurts, which he distributed evenly over the most bruised areas. As his cock slackened, he dropped onto his haunches and slowly massaged the semen over her lovely ass.

"Nature's embrocation, my sweet!"
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They rested in the afternoon, ordering supper from room service in the evening. Cathy luxuriated in a perfumed bath, with Nick ferrying several fortifying glasses of champagne in for her. She emerged after an hour and showed him the 'scars' of their spanking session, now considerably smaller.

At 10.00pm they began to dress for their visit to La Maison Libertine. Discreet, sombre outfits were de rigeur, Nick had been told by the friend who had recommended the raunchy swingers club. They took a taxi and their driver gave them a knowing smirk as he dropped them outside the entrance to the basement establishment.

Registration for temporary club membership was tedious and even involved Nick showing his passport. Cathy sat demurely at the back of the reception area. Eventually they were each given purple plastic wrist bands for use as 'currency' with bar transactions, then ushered through into a dimly-lit inner sanctum. The heavily-perfumed atmosphere positively reeked of erotica. Soft lighting, smoochy jazz and a handful of middle-aged, middle-class Parisians. They clutched each other's hands tightly as they approached the long bar. Nick studied the wine list.

"Would you like wine, champagne or shall we try what the menu describes as a very aphrodisiac champagne cocktail?"

"You choose, sweetie. So long as it packs a punch!"

Two tall blue champagne flutes appeared, their fizzing contents topped by a cluster of frosted raspberries. They each took tentative sips.

"I think I could get used to this," Cathy said after downing half the glass. Nick immediately re-ordered from one of the haughty barmen.

"Just got to pop to the gents. I'll be back shortly."

Cathy stood alone and began her second cocktail. She was aware of a male figure sidling up to her. In the reflection of the rose-tinted mirror at the back of the bar, she could make out a tall, dark-suited man. She turned to face him.

"Are you English?"

"Err...yes. How did you guess?"

"Because of the superb cut of your tailored suit." The man laguidly stroked his hand along Cathy's arm.

"Why thank you. Are you a member here?"

"But of course. My wife and I come here often for - how do you say - for sexy games? And is this your first visit?"

"Yes."

"What would you like to find?"

"To find?"

"Yes, what sexual desires do you have tonight?"

Cathy was surprised that she was getting tongue-tied by the cross-examination. "Err...anything rreally."

"How interesting." With which, the man began to stroke Cathy's bottom. Cathy smiled sweetly and took a giant swig of her cocktail. She desperately wanted Nick back by her side. The tall man's sensuous fingers had now moved around to her tummy and were inching towards the top of her skirt. "Loosen your skirt fastening, cherie, so that I may touch you in front?"

As if on cue, Nick re-appeared and the stranger's tentacles were hastily withdrawn. "This is my partner." The man smiled insincerely, nodded then moved down the bar to rejoin his wife.

"Phew! That old letch was within ten centimetres of groping my cock!"

"Let's circulate," said Nick. "See if we can't find some action."

They ambled along a corridor of small private rooms. Some doors were closed, some had been left invitingly ajar, as couples, threesomes and foursomes participated in various sex acts, clothed or naked. All were noticeably hetrosexual couplings. There were no gays or lesbians to be seen and Cathy (convinced that 'it takes one to know one') was pretty certain that there were no cross-dressers in the club. In one room, two seated men, their heads lolled back, were being fellated by a pair of fully-clothed kneeling women, who gazed up at a TV screen showing an orgy scene. The women swapped places, but with little enthusiasm.

"What do you fancy?" asked Nick.

"Shall we put on a show for them? It all looks pretty pedestrian here, doesn't it?" observed Cathy, striding into an empty room, pulling off her pin-striped jacket. The skirt followed and then she was standing resplendent in her new corset, fuchhsia fishnet stockings and scarlet high heels. She kept her semi-erect cock tucked up inside her corset. Nick was now naked, with a huge erection. The couple from the bar stood in the doorway watching.

"Come and sit on my lap," said Nick, pulling a chair into the centre of the room and lubing himself with his pre-cum. With amazing dexterity, Cathy pirouetted to face away from the onlookers, hitched up the back of her corset and lowered herself onto Nick's rigid cock. It slipped in like a dream. She looked over her shoulder and grinned at the 'audience'. Nick held her tightly around the waist.

"Fuck me good, sexy man. This time I want all that cum of your's in my butt!"

After several minutes of furious pounding, Nick obliged with a fine orgasm. It was only when she was getting off his cock that Cathy relaxed her stomach muscles, causing the tension to be released across the front edge of her corset. Her cock flopped out, to the shock of the large crowd which had now gathered in the doorway.

"Ooops, that's torn it!" squeeled Cathy.

Ten minutes later, now fully dressed, the couple had been ushered back into the sanctuary of the reception area. Their wrist bands were confiscated, Nick's passport was returned and in order not to cause any scandal, the manager said they would not be charged for their drinks. They were discreetly shown out. As they climbed the basement steps up to the street, it started to rain.
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Sitting forlonly in an all-night cafe, Nick and Cathy watched the rain streaming down the windows. "Fat chance of getting a cab in this weather," moaned Nick.

"Let's walk!"

"Are you mad? We'll get drenched!"

"Live dangerously, sexy man! Pay the bill and ask the guy behind the bar which way we've got to walk to get back to the Arc de Triomphe."

After ten minutes walking they were thoroughly lost and soaked to the skin. They took shelter in the dingy doorway of a boarded-up ruin.

"I reckon we've only got a few more blocks to go. Want to press on?" asked Nick optimistically.

"Not yet. I've had an idea." Cathy began stripping off in the street, handing Nick her soaked outer garments, until she was wearing only her corset, stockings and high heels. "Leave my clothes in the doorway, sweetie, and go back down the alleyway. All the way to the main road."

"What on earth for?"

"Role play!"

"Role play? At two o'clock in the morning?"

"Do as you're told. You're going to like this, I promise."

Nick dutifully obliged, retracing his steps.

In her high heels, Cathy stood in the doorway on one foot, arms on hips, one foot tucked up behind her. her heel planted on the door. The pose was straight out of burlesque. The rain had streaked her mascara and her lipstick was smeared. As Nick came alongside her she called out. "Hello dearie, looking for some fun?"

Nick switched into role. "Err...no thank you. I must get back to my hotel. I'm soaking wet you see."

"I'll make you even wetter, darling!"

"Err...I haven't any money."

"You'll be my last 'trick' tonight, so have it on the house."

"What...err...what was it you thought we might do?"

"D'you like dirty sexy - really dirty sex?"

"I'm not sure; you see I'm not very experienced."

"You will be by the time I've finished with you. Now take off your trousers and those stupid boxer shorts and stand here in the doorway."

Cathy stepped aside to kneel on the rain-soaked cobbles. "Now stroke that lovely cock of yours until its rock-hard! I'm gonna suck it for you; suck lovely sweet spunk out of your balls!" She stroked his crotch.

Nick was so impressed with Cathy's slutty theatricality that he very soon had a solid erection. "Like this?"

"That's it dearie. Push it in my mouth. I like it hard and rough. I'll show you what real cock-sucking's all about. I'm gonna give you a de luxe Parisian blow-job: une pipe! And you make sure to tell me when you're about to come. Understand?"

He nodded meekly and pushed his cock between her ruby red lips. She sucked furiously, clutching his shaft with one hand and stroking his balls seductively with the other.

"I need to shoot my load!"

"Then shoot it all over me, darling!"

Cathy pulled his cock clear of her mouth at the moment of ejaculation. Torrents of semen gushed out, merging with the falling rain, some landing on her face and some decorating the bodice of her once-pristine corset. She deftly held his penis and directed its final drops onto her small breasts, which she eagerly massaged across her rigid nipples.

As the rain continued to beat down relentlessly, they sat slumped together on the doorstep.

Nick tweaked a damp strand of Cathy's hair from her forehead and put his arm around her shoulder. "To think that less than 48 hours ago we were smartly attired, sitting in a swanky champagne bar at St Pancras. Now look at us: pissed, knackered and drenched!"

"Yes, but it was good fun, wasn't it sexy man?"