[FM] Mile High Club – Rimming

This happened years ago, on the way back from a year of exchange study in France, on a flight from Nice to Atlanta.

Oh, boy. I know you hear this all the time with these true-story forums, but seriously I have never (I mean, never, not even to my best friend) told anyone this story. I had just spent 10 months in Aix on foreign exchange study, the year between junior and senior year of college. At the time of this incident, I assure you I was not a wee innocent co-ed. I used to wait tables and had my fair share of hook-ups, not to mention all the fooling around that goes on when you’re at university. Add to that, an American girl in France is always very popular. All this to say, I wasn’t a wide-eyed girl.

So there I was at the Nice airport, all checked in and waiting to board. As was force of habit, I scanned the gate area. Not just for cute guys, but just for any interesting people. I always like to make up stories in my head… that couple going on honeymoon, that teen going on a school trip, that guy going on a business trip. The most handsome guy that day was one older man (mid 40s?) seated about 6 feet away from me, engrossed in his French newspaper, *Le Monde*, I think it was. He had dark hair, a somewhat gaunt face with high cheekbones, and readers perched on his slightly beaked nose. Kind of like the hot professor look. I took note of him only because I thought he was the best looking man there at that time—not because I was interested in hooking up or anything. To be honest, I was preoccupied with re-entry to my life in the States, my summer job, senior year coming up, etc.

So anyway, we finally boarded the plane, which was full, but not to capacity. It was a wide-body aircraft, and I had an aisle seat in the middle section. As I stowed my carry-on, I noticed the older hot guy (never learned his name) was in the cross-aisle, 2 rows behind me, already seated since he was in the previous group to board. Just as I’m reaching back down from stowing my bag, I could see his eyes gazing at my belly (briefly exposed as I was reaching up) then allowing his gaze to glide down the profile of my ass (I had on sweatpants to be comfortable during the flight, and yes, baby had some back). I could see then he had green eyes. I don’t think he noticed that I had noticed him. He had a very faraway look as his eyes lingered on my backside, as if he was thinking about something else altogether. Honestly, at the time, I almost wondered if he was ogling me, or maybe he really was lost in thought and his gaze just happened to be trained in my direction. (I know, right?)

Finally everyone was installed, we listened to the standard bilingual announcements, etc., and the plane finally took off. The flight was uneventful. Meal service, movie, all that. I even dozed off for a bit. Now, I always ask for the aisle seat because I get up a lot. Or at least, I want to have the freedom to get up when I want. I drink a shit-ton of water, for one thing, and especially on a long flight. So of course, I’m getting up, like, every hour or so on this 8-hour flight, or however long it was. The first couple of times, I didn’t pay the handsome man any mind, but from the third time or so onward, I remembered that he was there, and every time I passed him to get to my seat, I could feel his eyes on me. Or to be precise, on my bubble butt. It was kind of fun, but again, not like I thought anything was going to come of it.

About an hour before landing, the announcement came on to start preparing, tidying, etc. Of course, I’m going to the lavatory one more time. If you’re a frequent flyer, you know that at the final call before landing, all of sudden everyone needs to go. So I made sure I was the first in line to have my pee. Well, this time in my haste, I must not have turned the lock all the way because just as I’d flushed and was pulling up my track pants, the door starts to open. I call out “C’est occupé!”, but the door continues to open and someone steps inside, WTF.

Right away, I realized it was the hot professor and I was just standing there “bouche-bée”, meaning mouth agape, in surprise, as he closed the door behind him. I was so surprised, and I guess I should have been alarmed, but you know, we were on an airplane. If I had truly been afraid, it would have been quite easy to call out, bang on the door, etc. I knew there were plenty of people queuing up for the lavatory.

He said not a word and gently turned me around, reached around and lightly posed his hands on my boobs. Yes, he did, I kid you not, like in a grocery-store bodice-rippper novel. He nuzzled his face in the crook of my neck (which I love, hence was immobilized), and I could feel his hard-on pressed against my ass. He smelled really good—a faint cologne or after-shave, so French.

He said “J’ai envie de te goûter” (I want to taste you). I figured he meant he wanted to lick me out. You know, my pussy. He did ask for consent: “T’as envie?” (You want?) I couldn’t think straight in the heat of the moment, and remember, I didn’t feel threatened even though I could hear my model-mugging instructor’s voice telling me that I was, in fact, being assaulted (but let’s not be negative, OK?). It was a sexy moment, so I said, “Oui.”

The hot professor guy released one boob to take gentle hold of my jaw and kissed me. Lord, he was a good kisser. Then his hand that had been on my other boob trailed down my front to slide inside my elastic waistband, over my G-string to gently stroke my pussy over the fabric. His other hand released my face, and we let go of our lip lock so that he could trail that hand down my back, over my shirt, and eventually sneaking inside my pants in the back. I was idly wondering how he was going to ‘taste me’ in the super tight quarters of the lav. Would he lick my puss from behind? Will he turn me around? I was also wondering how long until someone knocks on the door. I’d lost track of time, by that point.

Well, I didn’t have to wonder too long about how my mysterious not-rapist was going to trial me. He guided me to prop one of my knees on the toilet lid, then with both hands he pulled down my pants to just above my knees, keeping my G-string on. I could hear him softly sigh out and say something like, “Quel beau cul, ces fesses…” (What a beautiful ass, these buttocks…) OK, from here on out, please know at that point in time, I had never experienced any kind of ass play. I don’t think even a finger.

I could feel the gentle air breezing out his nostrils as he grazed his face over my ass, softly kissing my buttocks, massaging his thumbs in the bottom swells of my ass cheeks. Thinking back, I don’t think he ever even touched my actually pussy. I mean, what he was doing in back kinda stood out most in my mind, so other details are fuzzy, y’all. Anyway, after a few kisses, he more insistently cozied his slightly beaked nose in my crack, over the string of my tiny underwear. I was so fucking turned on, I could feel my juices starting to seep down towards my inner thighs. Oh, as I’m typing this, I remember now… he did lick that up, but off my upper inner thighs, not from my pussy.

Ugh, I can’t type this fast enough, so hot thinking back on this. So he’s nuzzling his hot professor nose in my crack, both of us breathing more heavily. Then with one finger he reaches for the back string of my panty and pulls it to the side. And yep, you know it, he introduces his tongue tip onto the outer ring of my ass hole and starts to lick my rim. Holy Christ, I nearly yelped out loud in that airplane bathroom. Fuckity fuck, I had never felt anything like that. He licked and sucked and made little appreciative sounds like he was enjoying a gelato. Eventually the circles his tongue was making got smaller and smaller, until his tongue tip was embedded in my pucker which he went to town on.

Up to that moment, I had my hands on the wall to support myself, but once his tongue tip was in my ass, I freed up one hand to rub my clit. Holy fuck. I was so horny by that point, it took me maybe 90 seconds to come. And as I was coming (and trying not to be loud, because I’m kind of a screamer), I could sense him spearing his tongue even more deeply into my ass as my tiny lifesaver convulsed around it. Ah, fuck me…

As my spasms finally subsided, he lapped up my juices off my inner thighs once more, stood up, helped me pull my pants and straighten my clothing and hair. So gentlemanly, I’ll forget that. Then he gave me a soft dry kiss and said, “Merci, mademoiselle”, and with a tiny smile on his lips, made his way out of the lav.

I stayed a moment longer to compose myself then went back to my seat as well. I couldn’t even look at him. I figured I’d see him later at the baggage carousel anyway.

Well, he must not have checked in, so I never did. Heartbreaking. To this day, I wonder what that was all about. Was that his regular M.O.? Rimming out unsuspecting women? Was he on a business trip? Was he going back home to his American wife? So many questions.

But this I know, to this day, I’m fixated on ass play and ass sex. I’ve written about it, even made audios about it under my alt. I even make a tribute to this interlude in a recent audio. Not sure I can link here, but you can find it on GW Audio under my alt, POVscribe. The title is, well, “Mile High Club.”

Bottoms up!

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/dfim68/fm_mile_high_club_rimming