This is what I'm daydreaming about . . .
I board the plane, figuring that I'm going to have a boring couple of hours on the flight back home after a nice and much-needed vacation. I'm headed back to work on a plane which will undoubtedly have a combination of small seats and large passengers. I get on the plane, pack my stuff away and start reading a book, hoping to be the lucky guy who somehow booked a seat without anyone sitting next to me!
But, as I'm reading a book, I hear the flight attendant near me directing someone to the seat number next to mine. I sigh and look up, expecting to see an overweight man or a woman with a crying baby in her arms . . .
. . . and instead, I'm shocked by a rather unexpected, breathtaking sight.
She was a brunette, a little shorter than I am, with long hair coming down and gently curling just around her shoulders. She wore a form-fitting red sweater and tight blue jeans, showing off her curves but in an innocent sort of way. Her bust was, I think, a D size or so, perfectly shaped and accentuated by her flat stomach and thin, feminine arms with a purse on her shoulder and a rolling suitcase in her hand. She had a tight butt that she obviously worked hard at the gym to get – simply to die for – atop long, slender legs outfitted with cute casual sneakers. She might have been Hispanic, Middle Eastern or Indian, I couldn't tell, her skin was just a shade lighter than my own tan skin. Her eyes were a fiery orange-brown, the most noticeable part of her beautiful face, and she was already drawing looks from across the aisles from all the guys (and jealous looks from some of those guys' girlfriends and wives) as she walked in my direction. And the great thing about it was – she wasn't even trying.
As she struggled to put up her heavy suitcase, she ensnared me with a "hello" from her soft voice, which sounded like the gently flowing rivulets of a small stony brook.
I stumbled to get up and let her in to her window seat while I pulled up her suitcase and stowed it up in the luggage compartment, a bit of my Southern chivalry kicking in. She flashed me a killer smile, and as she stepped by me, she placed her hand on my shoulder for balance and her breasts brushed gently and unintentionally past my chest . . .
I thought to myself, "this flight just got a whole lot better," as she sat there and fiddled around with the airline magazines in front of her.
After the flight attendant did her safety thing, the girl and I both got to talking about how boring we thought these flights were. She promised me that she'd try and be an entertaining seat partner and, again, flashed me that killer smile, but it was accompanied by a wink this time.
Encouraged, we continued our conversation as the plane took off. Through the din of the engine and wind, I found out that she also lived in the city (a new resident), and that she was just getting back to her job from a vacation with her sister, who had evidently just had a baby girl. She was close to her sister; I could tell that they had helped each other out through some hard times and were a very tight duo. She mentioned something about how her sister helped her become the woman she was today, which I assumed meant that she had helped her out with her career. (I found out later that I was completely wrong)
We both discussed how we felt alone sometimes in the big, sprawling city, and that neither of us seemed to fit in at the bar scenes where young singles like ourselves usually met each other. We were a couple of misfits, as she called us, and she took great delight in it as she had newly moved into the city and had found someone that seemed to share the same interests and passions she did. I thought it was nice too, and felt a connection with her that I rarely felt with other women that I had met or even dated before.
Eventually, both of us tired a couple of hours into the flight, we decided to take catnaps before arriving in the city. She fell asleep first, and began to slide over towards me as the armrest had been put up prior to the flight by earlier passengers. She eventually came to a rest with her head on my shoulder, and by that time I was so tired and half-asleep myself that I almost had no idea what was going on – I was in a daze, something between being entranced by her smile and her eyes and being partially asleep. All I remembered was waking up to the flight intercom with my arm around her waist and her head nestled up against my shoulder.
We woke up, somewhat surprised, but neither of us moved.
"This feels . . . nice . . ." she purred. I nuzzled against her hair in tacit agreement. I had no idea what was going on – I had never just snuggled up to a woman before after talking for two hours, but somehow, again, it felt absolutely right, perfectly okay, to both of us.
Eventually, we had to get off of the plane and were waiting for taxis at the corner outside the terminal. I told her how much I had enjoyed having her for a seat-neighbor, and she smiled back at me and dazzled me again. I grinned like a moron.
A taxi pulled up. Her place was at the opposite side of town from mine, so there was no reason for us to take a taxi together. I helped her throw her bags into the trunk, then told her bye with a tinge of sadness as she jumped in the taxi. She looked like she didn't want to go. The taxi began to roll away . . .
. . . and 50 feet later, it came to a screeching halt, and she popped out of the cab. She looked at me, pleadingly. She didn't have to say a word . . . I went to her, hugged her, kissed her fully on the lips as we stood there for what seemed like forever, just kissing each other and enjoying each other's embrace.
The cabby finally yelled at us, at which we broke of our passionate, lustful, loving kiss with a laugh and a grin. I loved her laugh already. She dragged me by my coat into the taxi and I threw my stuff beside me inside the car.
A little later, we reached her place. I helped her take all of her stuff up and left my things in a pile next to her door, intending to leave as soon as we had talked. But, immediately after I had turned around from taking off my coat, she threw her arms around me and we started kissing again. We rocked back towards her couch, and we started throwing off each other's clothes.
After she had ripped off my shirt and I had removed her sweater and bra, I started to suck gently at her nipples. I circled her nipples with my fingers, then tenderly caressed them with my hands as my tongue traced down to her stomach, around her navel. I began to pull her jeans down . . .
She seemed surprised that I was doing so, and tried to stop me. She gave me a look of fear, and I asked her what was wrong. She looked as if she was about to cry . . . started sniffling and talking nonsense about misfits . . . and told me to sit on the couch. I did, confused and worried about whether or not I had done something wrong.
She pulled her jeans down, than removed her bright red panties. I was shocked by what she revealed. The woman I had just fallen in love with, head-over-heels, and found to have so much in common with, was a pre-op transgender woman. I seemed surprised, but then . . . somehow, it didn't feel wrong in any way.
I stood up, as she stood there, tears running down her face because she thought that I was getting up to leave.
I took off my jeans and my boxers, and I took her in my arms and embraced her fully. She hugged me back and buried her face in my neck. We just stood there, holding each other, our cocks brushing against each other and irresistibly responding to each other's touch.
I looked down at her, and we both smiled. We knew it was okay. I knelt down in front of her and took her in my mouth, as she gasped. I wasn't sure what to do, but as I began to suck her off it started to come to me like an instinctual reflex. I took her completely inside my mouth and massaged her cock with my tongue, while running my hands up and down her legs, around her ass and within her crack, past her cleavage. Her hands held my head close to her pelvis and matched my undulations.
She came in my mouth, and I tried my best to swallow it all down, even though some leaked out of my mouth. She shuddered and pulled me up to kiss me again. We ravaged each other for a while, as she tasted her own cum in my mouth, then kissing at every square inch of each other's bodies. Our cocks touched again and hardened beyond belief, before she turned me around on all fours onto the couch and lubed herself up.
Without hesitation, I let her begin to impale me with her throbbing member. I wasn't sure what to expect, but I knew that she would take care of me and I trusted her completely. The pain faded as she caressed me with her hands throughout the entire process. When we were both comfortable, she began to pump me and I began to push back into her to meet her movements.
It was incredible. As soon as the pain faded away, I began to moan with intense pleasure as she pumped inside me again and again. I felt as if I was close to exploding without even touching myself.
We were both sweating, her supple breasts bouncing with every movement, my cock about to explode in newfound pleasure and our loving relationship, between two "misfits." She continued to fuck me, harder and faster, harder and faster, making everything feel just perfect, until . . .
- - - -
. . . until I woke up from my daydream to realize that I'm still waiting for her to find me, to show me that I'm right about all this, and that dreams like this do really come true for people who believe in them strongly enough.