Airplane Antics

Copyright © 2016 by Tiki Kritzer Seger.  All rights reserved.

 

Friday afternoon at one and I'm trying to get everything done so that I can enjoy some well earned rest over the weekend.  The phone rings and my boss informs me that I'm booked on the night flight to New York.  There's an emergency and apparently, I'm the only person equipped to stave off complete disaster.

 

I drive home, grab the suitcase which I keep packed for such times and change into comfortable travelling clothes.  Actually, it's my favorite travelling outfit and consists of a baggy pair of black jeans, a long-sleeved, ultra-soft, oversize, white mens shirt, and a pair of black hightop sneakers.  Underneath, I wear a black sleeping bra with a front closure, black cotton panties and black and white striped knee socks.  I'm no beauty and I could afford to lose about 10 kilos, but these kind of clothes suit me and in them I tend to attract a lot of positive notice.

 

As usual, my boss booked my ticket without reserving a window or aisle seat for me, so I'm stuck in the middle of a row of three.  On both sides are tall businessmen wearing suits, loosened ties and stubble.  At least they are slim and the one on my right is quite pretty with his black curls and long, long eyelashes.  The other isn't handsome, but is quite rugged looking and is actually more attractive to me.  All things considered, I've had to give up my armrests to worse candidates.

 

I lean my seat back as far as possible - about 6 centimeters - pull my arms in and close my eyes.  When I open them, it's almost dark in the cabin and most of the inhabitents are sleeping.  I wriggle a little in a rather hopeless effort to get more comfortable.  As I do so, I look over at the man on the right.  His eyes are open and he is ogling my chest.  I look down and see that the buttons on my shirt are gaping open and that my breasts are just barely covered.  A glance to the left informs me that the other passinger is finding it facinating to watch the first man observing me.  Both men notice me watching them at about the same time and they look away quickly, but are unable to do anything about their increased breathing rates or the rather impressive tents in their suit pants.

 

It only takes a couple more little wiggles to bring their eyes back to me.  The guy on the left slowly lifts a hand and, giving me every opportunity to move away or say no, lays it gently on top of my left breast.  Then he slips his thumb and forfinger under both layers of cloth and rolls my rapidly stiffening nipple between them.  As soon as the man on the right notices that I'm not complaining, he slides his hand under my shirt and runs a finger along the edge of my bra on the right side.

 

My left hand companion slides a blanket from under his seat, and shakes it over the three of us.  He dips his head under the cover and, lifting the soft material of my bra away from my breast, draws my nipple into his mouth and suckles strongly.  His hand wanders down my stomach and slips beneath my pants and underwear; a finger slicks into my wetness and strokes rythemically back and forth.

 

His fellow on the right takes my hand and wraps it around his bared penis.  He cups the back of my head with his other hand and draws my lips to his.  He alternates soft nibbles with darts and strokes of his tongue.  As I entheusiastically return the kiss, I gently draw back his foreskin and rub the head of his glans with my thumb. 

 

In a low tone, almost a whisper, the man on my left tells us his name is Tom and asks us if we are travelling on or if we are staying in New York.  He has a room booked at the Marriott.  So do I.  Our friend, named Sean, is flying on to Texas.  Tom says "OK; my time will come later."  He winks at us, stands up, squeezes by and slowly saunters off to the bathroom.

 

Sean moves to the middle seat and turns me so that my back is facing him.  He pulls my pants and underwear down to my ankles and, in one motion, lifts and impales me on his throbbing member.  I gasp breathlessly and contract my inner muscles around him.  He takes one of my hands and moves my fingers to my clitoris; the other is placed on my breast so that I can massage my own nipple.  Sean then grasps my hips and with small, controlled, but very decisive motions, slides me up and down repeatedly.  Just as the waves of pleasure start to be overwhelming, Tom comes back from the bathroom and seats himself to the right of us.  He leans over and kisses me deeply and as he does so, I feel Sean's semen pumping into me.  At that moment, the overhead lights go on and the 'FASTEN SEATBELTS' sign lights up.

We hurriedly pull our clothing into place and assume our original seats.  The stewardess comes by and runs a disapproving eye over us, but she doesn't say anything.

 

The touchdown is uneventful and the three of us disembark together in silence.  Sean kisses me goodbye tenderly and he shakes Tom's hand before hurrying off to catch his connecting flight.

 

Tom and I collect our luggage.  We share a cab to the Marriott but do not touch each other during the ride.  We check into our seperate rooms.  Both of us have to work all day; we agree to have dinner together at eight and we part with no outward signs of affection, but I can tell that he is looking forward to the evening.

 

The hours crawl by.  It is hard to concentrate on the issues and I have to pull myself together more than once.  A colleague asks me if I am all right and I tell him that I have never felt better.  I am able to resolve the main problem at the office, but for once, I'm not enjoying myself.  I am asked to join the directors for dinner and I plead jet lag and ask if I could have a raincheck for the following day.  No problem.

 

Finally, the day's over, but there are still two hours until my date with Tom.  I take a taxi back to the hotel and spend some time fixing my hair and makeup.  I change into a soft jersey, dark blue t-shirt and matching skirt.  Underneath I'm wearing a sexy, aquamarine lace bra and panty set.  High heeled wedge sandals and purse in dark blue leather and I'm ready.  Still 40 minutes to go.  I rub my nipples through the silky cloth.  They harden immediately.  Beneath the lace panties, I am soaking wet.

 

Decisively, I leave the hotel room and make my way downstairs to the bar.  I see him immediately.  His face lights up in a huge crooked grin and he says "You couldn't wait either, huh?"  I laugh "Of course not - I'm starving!"  His answer "Then by all means, let's feed the lady." comes easily.

 

Neither of us is really hungry; the meal is just a form of drawn out foreplay, so we order several appitizers and share them.  I nibble olives from his fingers; he snaps a huge shrimp from mine in three quick bites.  I run my tongue around a spoonful of some kind of creamy dip and my toes up his thigh and between his legs.  He eats buttery miniature crab legs from my hand and licks the residue from my fingertips.  We drink alcohol free beer and sparkling water and are tipsy on anticipation.

 

The meal is over.  Tom insists on paying and he gives the waiter - who flirted with me unashamedidly - a huge tip.  Our stomachs are full, but we are a long way from being sated.

 

Tom gestures for me to lead the way to the stairs.  He opens the door for me and I start to ascend.  As I mount the fourth step, he grabs me from behind, turns me and shoves me against the wall.  Groaning deeply, he covers my face with kisses while dragging my skirt up to waist level.  I yank his zipper down and undo the button at the top of his tight, black jeans.  His member is sticking out of the top of his briefs and it only takes a small tug to bring them down far enough to free him completely.  His eyes go blank as he reaches down and rips the crotch right out of my panties.  He lifts me and I wrap my legs around his waist as he slams into me.  Tom goes completely still and I can hear his harsh breathing along with the little, sobbing breaths which are coming out of my mouth.  I can feel him pulsating inside of my body; the temperature seems to be steadily increasing and a little pool of sweat is starting to form between our bellies. 

With an incoherent growl, Tom starts to move.  He pounds into me hard enough to leave bruises, but I don't care.  I pound right back at him and pummel his back and shoulders in between caresses.  I bite his neck and taste salt on my tongue.  He bites me back.  We are fighting and wrestling and making love all at the same time.  The whole world is centered between my legs and the man who is causing my body to burn.  Without warning, I come convulsively; unstoppably; increadibly powerfully - my flesh convulses around Tom's again and again until I am so weak that the only reason I'm not on the floor is because he is holding me up.  Another minute and Tom stops moving; he leans his forhead against mine and takes a deep breath.  A door opens a few floors above us. 

 

Tom gives a weak laugh and drops me on my feet.  My skirt falls into place and, except for the shreads of my underwear hanging between my thighs, I am decent.  Tom's pants are up and zipped in no time and we are both giggling as he grabs my hand and pulls me up the stairs.  An older man in faded jeans passes us on the way; he smiles condesendingly.  At the third floor landing, Tom opens the door for me.  He than drops a brief kiss on my lips and thanks me for a wonderful evening.  I wish him sweet dreams and watch his muscular back as he strolls away.  Then I turn and walk down the hall to my room.