Das verborgene Tal

The attractive young heiress struggled through the near-deserted carriage with her Louis Vuitton luggage, repeatedly checking and rechecking her ticket stub until reaching her assigned seat. A handsome fellow traveller, sat opposite, leapt up and, like a gallant knight, with a polite “allow me,” began stowing her bags and cases. A shrill whistle blared and they set off. She pretended to read her copy of “Rich Widows Monthly” whilst sneaking furtive glances across at the hunk engrossed in the latest issue of “Get Stuffed!” Then one of her Manolos ‘accidentally’ brushed his calf and he looked up. She smiled coyly, adding, “that looks interesting,” nodding towards his periodical. “Why not come over—we can browse together,” he replied, patting the empty seat beside him. He introduced himself. “Dietmar, off to Taxpo ’26 in Lugano, pleased to make your acquaintance.” “Bergitta,” she replied, “off to my lakeside villa on Como.” At that moment the train hurtled into the Gotthard Base Tunnel. They would be spending the next 57km in near-total darkness. Dietmar felt a delicate hand slide up his thigh and slip into his pocket then recoil swiftly. “That’s just my stoat,” he reassured her. “The other pocket?” She enquired. “My weasel.” “And…” winking. “My multi-award-winning cock? That’s…” “Ssh!” She interrupted, placing a finger on his lips whilst reaching for his zipper with her other hand. “I was about to say…securely packed in its travel case in the guard’s van. But that’s not what you meant, was it?” She shook her head, suggestively. “Do you have any experience with pussies?” When the high-speed train emerged into the bright sunlight of Ticino they were very well acquainted.