It was the 1960s afterall.

The endless tales of the free love generation are legendary. If you’re too young to have lived through that period of time it would be easy to believe that sex had become so commonplace that strangers meeting for even brief moments would be inclined to pursue the pleasures. Well, I was around and I can attest that my generation had a much different approach to sex than our parents had. Oh I don’t believe for a moment that they were any more chaste than us. They just chose to conceal their activity.

My story revolves around a sixty-five minute flight from Louisville Kentucky to Chicago Illinois, my hometown at the time. The year was 1969 and it was early fall. I’d been drafted into the Army earlier that year and had been assigned to training at Ft. Knox. After finishing my basic training I was again assigned further schooling at the Armor school and Reconnaissance training. At this point I was able to acquire a pass and was able to fly home for a weekend. As a Private my funds for this would be strained but if I was willing to take the chance at flying standby and wear my uniform I’d also qualify for a military discount. I was successful the first time I tried it and was looking forward to another chance two weeks later. I didn’t contact anyone at home about my activity though. I didn’t want to get my girlfriend or my family’s hopes up. The second time was a bit more frantic. I’d teamed up with others for the cab ride, another cost cutting effort but unknown to me they had decided to fly out of Cincinnati instead of Louisville. This airport handled a bit more traffic so I was unsure of my standby status. I’d missed the first flight and watched as my friends all made connections to where they were heading. I sat in the sparse departure area waiting nervously as the second flight boarded. I watched the line of people file past a young flight attendant as they all provided a large paper ticket for her approval. The line of people disappeared through an accordion looking tunnel and so did the young stewardess. Yep, that’s what they were referred to back then. I checked my watch and then the departure board. The next flight wouldn’t be for hours and there wasn’t a guarantee of that being available either. Returning to base by myself would probably cost as much as my standby fare. Just as I was beginning to feel sorry for myself the flight attendant returned into view and motioned me to hurry in order to get aboard. We walked on board together and She guided me to a single seat directly behind and staring at the bulkhead wall separating passengers from the galley and cockpit. She then disappeared once more before I could thank her and took care of the preflight procedures. Just before takeoff she appeared and unlatched a folding jump seat inserted in the wall and strapped herself in. The area in between us was very tight and our knees alternated in position in order to find comfort. This caused her tailored company issued blue skirt to part a bit and ride up her thighs. Nothing scandalous or anything but somewhat arousing just the same. We traded smiles as the small jet gained speed down the runway and as we began to lift she slid ever so slightly forward and our knees were now no longer touching side by side but had offset above each other’s. If memory serves me I think we both squeezed each other’s knees in an effort to inhibit the slide. After launch she was gone again doing whatever her flight crew duties demanded of her. From time to time she’d come back and chat and then just as quickly be gone again. There was mostly small talk. She asked about my military life. It was 1969 and the conflict in SouthEast Asia was still very much front page news. She told a story of someone she had known in high school that hadn’t come home. I guess she realized that she might have just said something that frightened a 19 year old new recruit and apologized. She was probably no more than 25 herself and the war was an important issue to her as well. She changed the subject. ” going home to see your girlfriend?” Well the fall semester had started and the girl I had been dating was at school and really didn’t know I was on my way home I told her. During all this time and her in and out of that tiny jump seat it never occurred to me that I was probably taking her seat. I wish I’d been a bit more suave and traded places with her. By this time the hour long flight was ready to end and she returned to her seat once more. She got comfortable and we once again relocated our knees to fit the space. Her skirt rode up and she made no attempt to pull it down. As I glanced briefly I could just barely detect the area where her taupe colored pantyhose changed to a darker color. Once more we exchanged smiles and pressed knees on our descent. We talked some more as the others got off the plane behind us. She told me that she was in Chicago waiting for a west coast run the following afternoon and this plane was destined to Pittsburgh or Philadelphia I can’t recall which but she was happy for the brief time off. As we walked off the plane and through the concourse together she pressed me for details on what I was going to do first now that I was home.

” I can’t wait to get out of this uniform ” I said.

She stopped, smiled, looked at my spit shined shoes and then up into my face. Then she ran her hands across the lapel of her blue blazer and said “I know the feeling”.

We stood in silence for a moment as travelers from all over the globe made their way past us. I’m glad it was she that broke the silence. I was about to say goodbye and thank her for spending some time talking. She however interrupted me and said ” walk with me over to my checkout. I’ve got a room in the Hilton where we can both get out of our uniforms “

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/62b5xv/it_was_the_1960s_afterall