[Str8] Mile High Club

Business class is – something else, that’s for sure. It doesn’t hurt that the front of the plane is me and a boozy businessman, two rows in front and fast asleep. My boss could have sent me _down_ on business class as well, but at least I’m going home in style, freshly signed million dollar contracts in hand. Ah well, at least the flight attendant is cute. He looks like he might be gay, though, but that smile of his… I’m almost sad I only get nine hours with him around. Flying sucks, yeah, but with him around, not so much.

“Another glass of wine, please.”

When I speak, he’s quick to come to my attention, too. Gotta appreciate that in a boy. He brings the plastic bottle of white, and pours carefully.

“Celebrating something, are we, miss?”

He’s got a cute little grin, making his words endearing, rather than challenging. I take a light sip, and give him a nod.

“My boss liked my work on the contracts so much he sent me home on business class. That’s worth celebrating, right?”

He smiles to me with a light nod.

“Well worth celebrating.”

He drifts off, seeing to the boozy man up front, and I watch his buns bob along as he walks away. After a while he comes back, seeing if anyone needs anything. Nobody’s here, so nobody does.

“If you’d like to get off your feet for a while…”

I pat the empty seat next to me with a smile, and looking around nervously, he returns it, before sitting down. We talk for a while. He’s a model train enthusiast too, as it happens, and we sit for a while, discussing the relative merits of H0 and 00 scales. He likes H0 best, and I can relate. I do too. As I unbutton the top button on my blouse, he steals a quick glance, before looking back into my eyes with his own gray gaze. Maybe not gay, then.

A flight attendant comes up from coach and they quietly exchange a few hurried words.

“Sorry miss, duty calls.”

He offers the apology with a friendly smile, and leaves for the back of the plane.

—-

I stir awake as he comes around with dinner. Kosher meal. Smoked salmon and beef, real china and steel cutlery. I’m not jewish, but I know how to fly. I eat slowly as I watch him try to get the booze hound up front his meal. It goes well enough, I guess. The cute attendant is dismissed with a groan, but at least nobody hurls.

After the meal, I make my way to the bathroom. As I look down at my panties around my ankles, I realized I dreamed too heavily of him as I dozed. I don’t put them back on, but stuff them into my purse before I make my way back to my seat.

“Everything to your satsifaction, miss?”

He still has that smile. I wonder if he can smell me past my skirt? I nod.

“Dinner was delicious.”

As I sit back down, I offer him the empty seat again, and after throwing a glance over at the drunkie up front, he sits down with a smile. Obliquely, I ask about his girlfriend. Turns out he doesn’t have one. I try asking about his boyfriend instead, and again nothing. I take in every line of his face, to go with every line of his ass. He’ll make for vivid dreams when I get home.

Only – I check my phone – seven more hours with him.

We talk about his dreams for the future, and my own. He wants to be a painter. He shows me some photos on his phone, of paintings he’s done. When he comes to the one he did of a woman in the nude he quickly flips past it, hoping I hadn’t seen it. I had. I flip back for him, tell him how much I like it. Offer to model for him sometime, if he’s in town. It turns out he lives just half an hour across town from me.

What luck.

I tell him how I want to be a real estate developer, and about the contracts I secured last night. He praises my business accumen, and seems to mean it. Maybe he’s just being polite. When I ask, he gets me another glass of wine, and sits back down, unbid, leaving the half-full bottle.

“What was that about, earlier, in coach?”

He shrugs amicably with a smile.

“Just a couple of guys, getting into it over something or other.”

I take a sip of my wine. I can feel my body throbbing and heaving, even if he can’t. Time to get direct.

“That’s the beauty of having a gay guy aboard, isn’t it? To defuse situations like that?”

He gives an easy laugh, and a smile that makes me shiver. His teeth gleam white, and his lightly glossed lips twitch on the edge of a grin.

“I’m not gay, but I do cultivate that image, I suppose.”

He draws his slender hand through his hair as he talks, offering me a cocky smile. The light dab of eyeliner gives him the eyes of some great cat, and I wonder briefly what it would feel like if he decided to devour me. I drain my glass of wine and pour myself another. The lights dim as post-dinner night falls. He collects my flatware, and the tray from the drunkard up front, but is soon back. He’s bold, still, sitting down unbid in the gathering dusk aboard the plane.

“Don’t you use the opportunity for a nap?”

He shrugs. Sometimes, he tells me, but not always. He slept in late this morning, and had too much coffee, he tells me, so he’s a bit wired. I’m a bit wired myself, but for different reasons. I undo another button on my blouse, and again his gaze lingers only briefly. I take another sip of my wine.

“I need to hand out pillows and blankets.”

He gives me an apologetic smile as he stands, and soon he trundles past with a heavy cart.

—-

As I sit staring out of the window at the twinkling lights below, I’m startled as his hand gently touches my shoulder. He gives me three heavy blankets and two soft pillows with a smile, and wheels the cart off. Soon after he returns, another bottle of white wine in hand.

“You were running out.”

He smiles as he collects the empty bottle from the table of the empty seat besides me, and again I watch as his buns make their way down the aisle, biting my lip as I adjust my panties under the blankets and remembering that I took them off as I feel the moistness on my fingertips. When he doesn’t return, I press the call button. At once he’s there in the darkness, hovering next to the seat.

“What do you need, miss?”

Your cock inside of me, you idiot. I pat the seat again, and he looks around before he sits down. There’s only the lightly snoring and besotted businessman and me past the curtain, so idle he sits down.

“Have you ever had occasion to join the mile high club?”

As he shakes his head in puzzlement, I throw one of the blankets over his lap, and after pushing up the armrest between the seats, I dive under it. He gasps softly as I unzip his fly under the blanket, and he bites his tongue as I rouse him with soft kisses. Once I get moving, he’s warm and eager, his hardening cock sweet as nothing else on my lips as I take him in my mouth, kissing the base of him as he fills my throat.

“There are regulations…”

He protests weakly as he slips a hand along my back and into the waistband of my skirt, and his cock hardens further when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. Quickly enough he comes, and eagerly I swallow his seed, taking care not to spill any on his uniform or the blankets. I don’t want to get him in trouble, after all; besides which I’m starving for his cum. As I pull back and sit back up, I do my best to look innocent as a flight attendant from the back demands his attention once more, but she recognizes the glimmer of freshly given love on my lips, and gives me a jealous look as she calls him to work.

—-

I stir awake as he sits down next to me. Five hours left. He smiles softly through the darkness of the cabin, and I smile back.

“I hope I didn’t get you into trouble.”

He doesn’t think she saw. I tell him she almost certainly did. He turns pale. I smile to him.

“Might as well make it worth it, no?”

He gives me a puzzled look, and I usher him into the window seat. Once he’s in place, I straddle him and wrap us up in blankets, pulling back my skirt as I slip a hand down to unzip his fly again. With a bit of handiwork he’s hard again, and slowly I tread myself onto him, swallowing a moan. I give him a kiss. His lips are soft and scented with bubblegum lipgloss, and with a grin I pull back.

“Are you sure you’re not gay?”

He nods eagerly, and his body agrees as he pulses within me. With a smile, I take him in to the hilt. As I feel the cold metal of his zipper against my lips, he quivers, and as I rise again, tightening around him, he gives a soft moan. I put a hand on his mouth.

“Quiet!”

I grin to him as I descend again, and again, and again. Obediently he bites his tongue, his slender hands loosely lain on my hips, his body quivering. I kiss him, and he kisses me, again and again, as I slowly ride him, quiet as a mouse. He lasts longer this time. Way longer. Not long enough, but way longer. As he fills me up, I grab his short and artfully messy hair, I bury my face in his neck, I scream silently into him as I shudder in exquisite agony, waves of pleasure rolling over me, only heightened by the thin air.

“Oh, Samara… Let me explain…”

I give him a confused look as I recover, and follow his gaze to see the stern face of the key attendant.

—-

He has more time to paint now, and when I come home from the office, I am sometimes his muse, and sometimes his canvas, as he paints me with his love, white on white.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/5g5hxm/str8_mile_high_club