A Fresh New Start Ch. 01

Rachel woke up in a terrible mood.

She hadn't felt herself lately. The mood swings had become more frequent, more random, less predictable.

Her job clearly wasn't helping. As the only person to cover her sick colleagues' shifts, just because she felt bad for them, having to deal with the increased workload that no one was looking after while they were away, Rachel felt exhausted throughout the flu season.

She needed a break. Right now.

She needed to take a few days off. Being 29 years old, single, overworked and feeling depressed, it was time for her to get some me time.

A few phone calls to the matron and her colleagues later, and she was off. She took two weeks of her remaining leave, not even knowing what to do with it.

This will be a perfect opportunity to go on an unplanned holiday all by myself, try new things and, who knows, maybe meet new people in an unfamiliar environment, far away from the daily routine to which she has become so accustomed. Or no, not accustomed, that would imply that she is content with the lifestyle she has been living for the past two years after her painful separation from Jonathan. She still thinks about him a lot more than she would like to admit.

No, she's not happy.

And she hasn't been for a long time.

She simply can't remember the last time she felt truly happy. That holiday in southern France, when Johnathan proposed to her on her twenty-sixth birthday, might qualify, maybe.

"God, three years, two months and.... eighteen days..." she thought. That's far too long not to feel joy.

"You're in the prime of your life, looking the best you'll ever look, wasting your precious time eating crappy food, watching stupid romcoms and unrealistic dramas, giving yourself the same shitty orgasm with the same shitty vibrator you've been using every night for the last couple of years, only to cry yourself to sleep over a douchebag of a guy who promised you the world and ended up cheating on you. Several times. And for what? What are you doing with your life?" she said aloud, still lying in bed in her underwear, staring at the ceiling.

"Seriously, what... am... I... doing... with... my... life?" she almost shouted at the uncaring, sterile white ceiling.

She jumped up as if possessed by some unknown energy, showered and shaved her legs and pubic hair in a flash, then frantically stuffed a bag with some clothes, the bare necessities and, hesitantly, some of her nicest lingerie.

"Why not. You never know, right?" she thought as she put on her favourite red and tight tank top that gave her a nice cleavage, a black skirt that stopped just above her knees, the white tanga with the cute bow at the front and a pair of black pointy high heels. A little eyeliner on her lower eyelid to accentuate her piercing blue eyes, a little lip gloss on her naturally pulpy lips, no make-up as she didn't want to cover the freckles on her matte pale skin today, a little hair oil in her long dark blonde hair and she was ready.

After her preparations, and with a rush of adrenaline, feeling ecstatic at the idea of experiencing something different, even if only for a little while, she drove to the airport. She felt like she was leaving behind every single bad thing that had ever happened to her.

"Give me a ticket for a flight to someplace hot that leaves within the next two hours!" she shouted happily to the slightly perplexed clerk, less than five minutes after arriving at the airport.

Apparently, Réunion Island it was.

As she walked through check-in, she thought about the adventures ahead, the thrill of something new, something different. Different is good. "First of all, I'm going to find a good-looking guy and fuck the hell out of him," she thought, giggling. This thought surprised her, she'd never been a one-night-stand kind of girl, sex was always something she felt she needed to experience within a trusting, loving relationship. On the other hand, more than two years of abstinence tends to make you rethink your priorities in the erotic department.

As she boarded the plane, she felt really good about herself and smiled at every single person who as much as dared to look in her direction. She immediately sat down in her assigned seat by the window, as if that would make the plane fly faster. Her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies, she just couldn't wait to get to Réunion Island and find a random stranger to spend the night with.

Rachel was surprised at herself again; how her thoughts had gone from "I'm going to spend a nice time off somewhere I've never been" to "I'm going to fuck someone in less than a day". It had somehow become so easy to think about having sex with someone she would never see again. Actually, it wasn't just easy, it was exciting. Inviting a hunk of a man to her hotel room, beads of sweat rolling down his chest as he sunbathed on the beach, his dark skin glistening in the sun, the tight swimsuit barely hiding his...

A loud crash ripped her from her daydream, followed by an embarrassed "Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I hope I didn't hurt you!" Some guy dropped his hard-shelled suitcase on the floor next to her, it must have slipped out of his grip.

"No, no, don't worry, I'm fine, your suitcase didn't..." she stopped, looking up at the source of the apology. For some reason, she expected the clumsy guy to be some random, uninteresting person; instead she was surprised to end up staring at a good-looking man. He must have been in his mid thirties, tall and dark-skinned, which was already pushing some of her buttons. "... touch me," she finally finished when she realised she'd been staring at him.

"I'm glad to hear that. Sitting next to someone who thinks you're an idiot for sixteen hours straight would be my definition of a bad time".

His manly jawline, large hands and nicely slicked back black hair definitely helped making him look good, but his pale green eyes, adorned with the tiniest amount of crow's feet and a very nicely groomed beard, spiced up with a few white hairs here and there, were the main contributors to the tingling sensation Rachel felt all over her body.

"If you like, I could ask to sit somewhere else?" he asked, frowning.

"Oh no, please don't... bother." Rachel felt her cheeks warm. It wasn't the only thing that was warming up, but she hadn't quite realised it yet.

"That's a relief," he said, his wide mouth widening into a smile as he sat down beside her and held out his hand. "I'm Ronald, but you can call me Ron."

She took his hand in hers, feeling a small electric shock as their skin touched. "I'm Rachel," she said, "and I swear I'll do anything I can to see you naked," she thought.

The next two hours flew by.

"Seriously? This is the first time you've ever seen an airplane from the inside?" asked Rachel, obviously intrigued.

"Yeah, I don't really travel that much," Ron nodded. "I'm a bit of a couch potato. Or rather a person of habit. If I go on holiday, I usually end up in the same place in Marbella in the south of Spain."

"So you're from Spain?" Another check on Rachel's list of attributes that might get a man in her bedsheets.

"Not quite, I'm half Spanish and half Moroccan. My family and I lived in Morocco, but we moved to the south of Spain when I was a child," he replied, the left corner of his mouth lifting in a slight grin.

"Ooh, exotic!" she said, a little louder and more playfully than she intended.

"You must be very popular with the girls." Her mouth was quicker than her thoughts, she regretted that last exclamation the moment it left her lips, afraid it might come out wrong. But she just hadn't found a good moment to casually find out if he was single, and she felt now was as good a time as any.

Ron laughed, "Actually, I've always had a hard time finding anyone, to be honest."

"Shut up! A handsome, likeable guy like you having trouble with the ladies? I really can't see it," she added, genuinely surprised.

"Believe it or not. I've been involuntarily celibate for half a year. I told you, I neither go out very often nor do I meet new people very often.

In retrospect, it might have been the situation, the altitude, how comfortable she felt talking to him, or her adrenaline rush from a few hours before that made Rachel lean over to Ron, gently put her hand on his hand and sultrily assert, "Well, you've met me now, haven't you?"

Rachel's heart pounded, the butterflies in her stomach turned into fireworks the moment her skin touched his, and the wet sensation between her thighs made her forget she was even wearing underwear.

Ron really ticked all her boxes. If she had met him a few days ago, she would have imagined herself falling madly in love with this handsome stranger, walking hand in hand through the sand dunes of a paradisiacal beach with the sun setting in the background, kissing deeply and making passionate love as the waves lapped at them.

Now all she wanted to do was fuck his brains out.

The crow's feet around Ron's piercing green eyes deepened as he began to smile. "I'm sure glad I did," he replied, leaning closer and placing his other hand on her knee.

It wasn't until the moon began to appear in the evening sky that they realised they had been talking, flirting and exchanging light caresses for almost half the flight. The cabin crew brought the passengers blankets, neck pillows and eye masks (for a price). "Oh hell yes!" she thought and bought an eye mask for herself, hoping to use it for something other than its intended purpose.

"Sorry Ron, could you please let me through? I'd like to use the bathroom before we get comfortable and..." pause for dramatic effect "...sleep." Rachel winked at him unmistakably, hoping he would take her innuendo and follow her to the toilet.

He didn't.

To be fair, she wouldn't have gone through with the "mile high club" anyway. She was afraid that she wouldn't have been able to keep quiet if he had taken her there and then. Anyway, it was a good time to freshen up, she thought. In the bathroom she took off her soaking wet tanga, noticed that her skirt was wet too and regretted her choice of clothing.

On the other hand... being all alone in a noisy bathroom, hornier than ever and not knowing if she would be able to release any tension any time soon, Rachel began to think that "warming up" might not be such a bad idea. She didn't want to sit down, the toilets on planes aren't the cleanest and whatnot, so she very ungraciously stood in front of the tiny mirror, spread her legs and lightly touched her outer labia with three fingers. This tiny caress alone caused a deep moan to escape her throat.

She was soaked. Never had so much liquid coated her vagina, thighs and buttocks; never had she felt so aroused for so long.

"No. I will not waste my pleasure. I want to continue enjoying this foreplay," she thought and took her hand away.

Rachel finally decided to wash up a little and go back to her seat. It was dark now, the overhead lights were off, only the floor lights remained. Ron was obviously waiting for her; he was looking down the aisle in the direction of the bathroom.

As she sat down, Ron opened the blankets they had been given and threw them over them. Rachel sat sideways, as did Ron, so they were as close together as the seats would allow.

"Well then, good night, flight acquaintance," he whispered, moving even closer to her. He was so close she could feel his minty fresh breath caressing the tip of her nose.

"Oh no, you don't!" she thought and replied, "I'm not going to sleep now," smacking her lips against his. That was new too, it was the first time she had taken the initiative to kiss someone first.

He kissed her back, his soft lips curling, moving, tensing and softening, then opening to begin a French kiss. Rachel wanted to kiss him so badly for so long that when his tongue met hers, she couldn't help but let a moan escape into his mouth. He tasted good, he had been eating mints for the past two hours or so, probably in anticipation of the kiss to come.

While their mouths were busy, she moved her hand under the blanket towards him, touching his chest over his shirt, down to his stomach and then under his shirt. He was a bit plumper than she had imagined, but still muscular and not too hairy. Pretty much to her taste.

Ron certainly wasn't going to be inactive, and only seconds after they started kissing, Rachel felt his warm, big hand resting on her knee, slowly caressing her inner thigh and moving up, stopping just short of where she knew he would get his hand wet.

"What a gentleman. But I don't want a gentleman, I need an animal right now," she thought, grabbing his wrist and moving his hand all the way up to her soaking wet vulva.

Surprised by the lack of underwear and the feel of her warm juices, Ron stopped kissing her for a moment and looked questioningly into her longing eyes as she smiled at him, catching her breath.

"I want this," she whispered sultrily into his face.

He didn't have to say anything. The way he moved his hand and the way his fingers slid over her slippery labia was communication enough. Rachel tried, more or less successfully, to suppress the sounds that tried to squeeze out of her mouth, all the while being zapped by the electric shocks coursing through her abdomen.

"Oh my, he's good," she thought as she kissed him deeply and passionately, feeling his fingers run up and down and from side to side of her outer and inner labia, playfully teasing her entrance while the palm of his hand applied pressure to her clit. This, all of this, was unadulterated pleasure for her. She realised how much she had missed a man's touch.

Suddenly, she remembered that she had hands too.

She masterfully unbuttoned his jeans and felt his hips move towards her hand. She slid her hand right under his underwear, felt his pubic hair wet with pre-semen and finally cupped a warm, rock hard, seemingly curved, veined and slightly slippery penis.

The thought "Oh my God, yes, a dick!" flashed through her over-excited, oxytocin and dopamine fuelled brain as she began to rub the underside of his lubricated glans with her index finger. A deep sigh passed from his mouth to hers and she switched to grabbing his cock with her whole hand and stroking it. The huge amount of pre-cum he had built up during their flirting was enough to give him a nicely lubed up hand job. They completely forgot about the world around them as they continued to kiss and touch each other.

Rachel let the words "finger me" escape her lips, which resulted in two of Ron's massive fingers entering her vagina. Goosebumps ran up and down her entire body, waves of pleasure radiating from her loins to the furthest reaches of her body and back again. He hadn't even fucked her yet, but she felt like this was the best shag of her life. He wasn't just fingering her, he was flicking his fingers inside her, still applying varying amounts of pressure to her clit with his palm. Each flick built up the pleasure and pressure, safely stored in a balled up feeling deep in her belly until the moment she was ready for that sweet and necessary release.

But Rachel didn't remain passive during this time, her strokes became faster, more regular, she also varied the strength of her grip to give him as many different sensations as possible. She was so into him. Feeling his every reaction, answering each of his hip movements with a bigger stroke herself, hearing his half-hidden moans and sighs, his breathing accelerating; it was intoxicating.

His legs started to shake a little, he stopped kissing her and just looked deep into her eyes. Rachel realised he was about to cum and she was close too. She wanted to have her orgasm at the same time as him, to control his orgasm. With him literally in the palm of her hand, she began to stroke his penis a little slower to delay his climax, giving herself enough time to orgasm as well.

The expression on Ron's face could have been interpreted as agonizing pain, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

Now it was her turn. Her pelvis moved rhythmically with each stroke, accelerating, her bladder on the verge of bursting. She gave everything, both to her orgasm and to the cock she was holding. Rachel wanted to scream, but instead she calmly moved closer to Ron's face and gently placed her lips on his.

Her bubble finally burst, her hips swaying deeply, her back arching, she bit down hard on her lips to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs; at the same time she felt his boiling hot cum running down her hand, his warm dick pulsing in her tight grip.

They spent what felt like an eternity in this exact position. His fingers, motionless inside her pussy. Her hand, unmoving, holding his still completely rigid cock.

He trembled, holding his breath. She trembled, holding her breath.

They both exhaled at the same time, loosening their grip on each other, coming back to reality, realising what had just happened as they looked into each other's eyes. Then they started to laugh just to immediately stop so as not to disturb anyone on the plane.

Her hand was wet, still hot and sticky, and a hint of his bleachy smell entered her nostrils as she licked a tiny bit of it off the back of her hand. Ron's sperm tasted salty, but also slightly sweet. Realising that she had just tasted someone's sperm right in front of her face, she blushed and looked at him, hoping he didn't see her.

He didn't. He was too focused on tasting the liquid on his own fingers.

Smiling, Rachel leaned over, playfully running her tongue along the veins of his neck, searching for his hand under the blanket and whispering, "Well then, good night, flight acquaintance".

Just before she fell asleep, she thought, "This new me is exciting. I really like her".

They slept peacefully through the rest of the flight, their sticky fingers still intertwined.