*The Beginning*
I come across the Bay on BART, meeting you at SFO at 9:00pm. I know this seems awfully early, since the plane won’t begin boarding for another two hours, but this gives us enough time to relax and not be rushed to get through Security. Since food onboard United is never anything to write home about, we decide on a late-night meal/snack/. It’s between *Limon*, a restaurant in the Mission District famous for its Peruvian food, especially its roast chicken, and the relative simplicity of *SF Uncork’d*, a wine bar with a great selection of wines by the glass and craft beers, as well as assorted charcuterie. We opt for the latter, if only because it’s not in the Food Court and you can actually sit at a table and be served.
We sit next to each other, and for the first time since arriving at the airport, I can touch you, caress you – at least a little. Holding hands and the occasional kiss is wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but being able to reach under the table and give your bare thigh a squeeze and far more private, more intimate. I didn’t need to tell you *not* to wear pants on the plane; you knew what I wanted — what we both *needed* — on this flight, this adventure. Fortunately I’m left-handed and you’re right-, and so we can still pick up our forks and our wine glasses while we sit next to one another. The skin of your thigh — so soft, so warm — feels delightful against my palm, and I can feel that warmth through my kakhis. You squeeze my thigh, and I definitely feel you, but through my pants is different than having my hand on your bare thigh. Nonetheless, I feel myself swelling within my pants and you feel me squirm and “adjust” myself.
The server brings our food to accompany the wine, and I reluctantly let go of your thigh to pick up the tapa and pop it into my mouth. Mmmm, delicious! We “graze” our way through an array of tapas, cheeses and cured meats (for me), all with a couple of glasses of 2008 Marques di Riscal Reserva from the Rioja in Spain. As we finish our meal, it’s getting close to the time to board, and since I paid for us to have Priority boarding, we walk the short way to the gate – just in time, too, as they were boarding those with small children and “those who need a little more time in the Jetway.” In about ten minutes, they call for those with “Priority” on their boarding passes and on we go…
One of the advantages to both being on a (not 100% completely full) red-eye, *and* of having Priority boarding, is that we are able to put both our carry-ons in the bins directly over our seats, plus the backpack that I use as a briefcase. You slip your purse underneath the seat in front of you, and we’re all set — you in the aisle seat, me in the window. The last time I checked the seating chart for this flight, the middle seat was still vacant, but I can’t help but cross my fingers — tightly! — until the lead flight attendant makes that familiar instruction that they’re about to close the cabin door and all phones and other electronics must be switched to airplane mode. *We did it!*, I think to myself, and the knowledge that we do indeed have this row to ourselves makes me begin to grow hard. *Down, Simba!* I say to myself, as I can’t help but grin, look over at you and take your hand in mine across the vacant middle seat – holding it all through taxi and take-off.
*The Flight*
Once the pilot turns off the Fasten Seat Belt light, the cabin crew begins Beverage service. Having just eaten, we both pass on the “snacks for purchase,” but – absent any Port or Brandy (this isn’t an international flight, after all) – I opt for one of those tiny bottles of Buffalo Trace Bourbon, alone with a bottle of water and a cup of ice; you choose a Vodka & soda, with lime. We have three blankets and three pillows, and you move into the middle seat, as we raise the armrests to create a “sofa” of sorts or, perhaps, the “back seat of a car” is more accurate.
As we sip our drinks, I open two of the pouches contain the blankets, and cover the two of us as we sit in our seats. We talk softly as we watch the cabin lights dim, and the reading lights above the seats go off one by one. Soon there is only the glow from the seat-back flat screens and a few reading lights here and there. But as we talk, all is not what it appears. Again, being left-handed, my right hand is free to explore underneath the blankets, invisible to passers-by…if we do this right.
Once again, my hand starts on your bare thigh, just above your knee. Squeezing, caressing, using my fingertip to trace little designs…moving from the top of your leg to the inside of your thigh and slowly – almost painfully so, though only 45 minutes have elapsed in the five-hour flight – caressing your soft thigh, warm and supple beneath my fingertips. Your legs part slightly, as you lift your hips and recline your seat a little bit. Slowly, oh so s-l-o-w-l-y, I work my way up your leg…pausing every so often for a sip of Bourbon, and a bit of conversation. Well, OK, it’s every time a flight attendant walks by, but still – I continue to touch, to tease, to caress.
Under the blanket, reaching under your dress, I at last reach that delicious juncture between your creamy white thighs – please to realize you have no panties on. You are already moist – no, wet – in anticipation of my touch. My finger slips in between your swollen lips, and is coated with your silky, slippery wetness. I begin to swirl around your swollen clit in gentle circles, and I feel you growing. You sigh and push your seat back as far as you can, as I slide my finger down, slipping it inside you. I look at you and see your chest heave as you inhale sharply at my first touch, and slowly exhale, sinking into the seat as best as possible. You reach under the blanket and grab hold of my wrist. I first think you want me to take my hand away, but no – you hold my wrist exactly where it is, exactly where *you* want it. I continue to slip my finger in-and-out of you, of your wet, open pussy, adding a second finger, filling you. Given the angle of my hand, I cannot tease your clit with my thumb – something I would ordinarily be doing – but it gradually dawns on me that, while you’ve released my wrist, you haven’t moved your hand. While my two fingers are busy inside of you, your finger has taken my place and is now running circles around and around your clit. Your breathing quickens, and I can hear you try to stifle a little squeak, as you feel that familiar fire within you burning hotter, that familiar tension building in your belly – and when those butterflies take flight, you know you’re on your way.
Suddenly your free hand flies up to your mouth, as you bite the back of your hand to stifle that delicious squeal that accompanies your orgasm, as I feel your entire body shake and convulse as a powerful wave of pleasure surges through your entire body. And once the shuddering stops, and the echoes of your climax recede, you lean over and kiss me.
After a few moments, you unbuckle your seatbelt and stand up. Taking your carry-on from the overhead, you depart for the lav behind our seats. A few moments later, you return after changing our of your black dress and into much more comfortable (for sleeping) pair of rather chic “soft pants” and a top. This time, however, you sit down and place your head on my shoulder, rearranging the blankets just so.
By now, the flight attendants have collected almost everyone’s empty glasses or the remnants of their snack trays. Most everyone is asleep or at least dozing. After all, it’s now almost two hours since we took off from SFO, and people are trying their best to catch a little sleep before we land in DC.
From the outside, so to speak, it would look to all the world as if you fell asleep on my shoulder, but nothing could be further from the truth. You lean closer and just before you bite my earlobe, you whisper softly, “Now it’s your turn…”
I feel your hands undoing my belt, unhooking the closure of my pants. Your hand is tracing the outline of my swelling shaft, as you murmur something I can’t quite make out. The next thing I feel is my zipper being pulled down, and a hand reaching in to encircle my penis, freeing it from its former confines. Soft, warm, supple, I feel your hand begin to stroke my cock, making it grow fully – erect, hard. I feel your nails graze across me, and then your thumb rubs the precum around and around the head, as you “Mmmmm” approvingly.
Your hands continue to work their magic on me, as I begin to subtly move my hips, sliding my cock through your hand as you encircle me. I, too, have pushed the seatback of my chair as far as I can, and my breathing has deepened, changed in rhythm. My eyes close as I surrender myself to your hands. Enjoying being at the center of your focused attentions, savoring the sensations of your touch, when – suddenly you freeze. A flight attendant exits the galley just behind us and turns left towards the back of the plane, to the larger galley there where the other attendants are hanging out, chatting to pass the remaining time before they must prepare for landing.
Slowly you return to your previous focus, as I can feel my balls tighten and my cock throb in your hands. I utter this low moan as I respond to your touch. After a while, however, you stop once again. This time, you lift your legs onto our little “sofa” as you lay your head in my lap. I lean over you, positioning the blankets to cover your legs and feet as you once again encircle my shaft with your right hand, and return to slowly stroking, teasing me under the blanket. Again, I close my eyes and lose myself in the state of arousal, of pleasure you transport me to. As I relax my mind, my body, my attention slowly zeroes in on only one thing – the sensations I feel with your hand surrounding my cock – until my eyes shoot wide open as I feel your tongue swirl around my head.
You’ve positioned the blanket in such a way that a passerby would presume you’re all “tucked in” and you have shut out the light by having the blanket partially covering your face. *If they only knew…* My eyes quickly glance about just to make sure no one sees us, and then they slowly close, as I surrender myself to your lips and tongue hungrily, greedily devouring my rock-hard penis as it fills your mouth. My hips begin to rock once again, though more forcefully now as I quickly feel my arousal building to new heights. I slip one hand under the blanket to grab hold of your hair, holding you in place as I begin to fuck your sexy and talented mouth. *My God,* I silently scream inside my head, *what you do to me…* and it isn’t much longer before my back arches and I start shooting ribbons of hot, white cum into your mouth and down your throat…
I hear your murmurs of appreciation from beneath the blanket. You try to keep sucking me, but feeling you deliberately trace your teeth over the head is too much, and I pull your head up and away from my still-trembling cock. You pop your head up with your eyes wide, looking at me as if to say “What? What did I do?” when, of course, you know perfectly well. I start to say something, but you suddenly kiss me, pushing your tongue into my mouth covered with my own cum, which I hungrily suck off of you. At the end of that single kiss, you smile, simply saying “Good night” and, placing a pillow across my lap, you lay your head back as I stroke your hair and realize your hand is still wrapped around my cock as it slowly softens and we both drift off for a (very) few hours of sleep, both dreaming of what is to come after we check in to the W Hotel on 15th St., NW.
❦ ❦ ❦
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/es1hx3/adventures_at_38000_feet