Flight Layover with Mom

~~~ The Son ~~~

Heads turn whenever my mother walks through an airport terminal. She's so magnetic that I expect electronic devices to go flying through security. Flight attendants always get attention, but my mother is taller than most women and she used to be a ballerina, which sets her apart.

I know the reactions she gets because I recently became a pilot for the same airline. She paid for my flight school and the hours of training. She also used her connections to help me land this job. When I got hired months ago, my mother introduced me to people in the industry, from flight attendants to other pilots. Her name is Natalie, but her colleagues call her Nattie as a term of endearment.

After checking in, I board the plane and there's a small celebration amongst the cabin crew. Apparently this is the first flight being worked by a mother and son. I didn't think it would be a big deal, but the captain and other attendants thought it was amusing. They greet me with a small cake and the attendants give me a kiss on the cheek.

I sit in the cockpit, and before takeoff, my mother comes and brings her lips to my ear.

"Congratulations, big boy," she says. "You've become a man."

She gives me a kiss on the cheek, closer to my mouth, and I know it's going to leave a lipstick mark. She laughs and so does the captain. When my mother steps out of the cockpit, I can hear her giggling with the other attendants. I've heard the stories of what happens in this industry and I often wonder if there's a side to her that she keeps hidden.

~~~ The Mother ~~~

Hotel rooms are the perfect arrangement for this kind of side hustle. I never show my face, that's the number one rule. Sometimes I'll use my voice. I'm halfway through a masturbation session with the live webcam pointed at my body. I have exactly 8,534 viewers at the moment and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed with my legs open. The background shows my impeccably organized hotel room.

My flight attendant uniform is spread across the bed, right next to me. My prized possession. It's the reason my show is one of the most viewed on the website, because I'm an actual flight attendant and this isn't cosplay. I keep my audience updated on social media with pictures from around the world, erotic selfies in the uniform, and images of my legs inside the airplane cabin.

In today's world, right or wrong, the webcam industry is booming and women are using it as a means of steady income. Many flight attendants dip their toes into this industry. To me, the extra income is nice, but money isn't my primary motivation, it's being adored by an online audience. Being an exhibitionist is my aphrodisiac.

Casual sex is also a secret thing in the flight industry. Pilots often have their pick of flight attendants. Flight attendants often play with each other. Threesomes or gangbangs happen on occasions. I know a few women who love having a train run on them. Always in a hotel during a layover. Sometimes foreplay happens during a flight while passengers are sleeping. I should emphasize that this is far from the majority, I'd call it an active minority.

I'm not here to impugn the reputation of the flight industry, but the fact is, we travel frequently, we spend a lot of time in close quarters, and we often have a lot of downtime in between flights. People have sexual desires. Things happen. That's a fact of life.

My orgasm triggers a flood of tips. My screen lights up with gold coins and dollar signs and the dinging sound follows. My toes curl and I straighten my long legs while I cum. I take a moment to recover with my hand resting on my crotch. The flight leaves in a few hours and the audience enjoys watching me getting dressed. Black stockings, sheer undergarments, and of course the uniform.

This is a hotel in Rome during a layover.

***

The plane lands in Seoul, South Korea, and today's layover is expected to be around 14 hours. Based on recent weather reports we could be staying longer. Even though weather patterns can be tracked more accurately in the modern age, there are still times when snowstorms can develop unexpectedly. Airports may need to close their runways due to snow accumulation or de-icing operations.

We exit the plane after a long flight from San Francisco and that feeling of disorientation is something you get accustomed to. Every time flight attendants wear the uniform, it means we're representing the airline, so we head through the terminals with our appearances right. After clearing customs and security through a private line, we take a shuttle to our hotel.

During the ride, a few women express remorse that we can't visit the downtown area of one of the most beautiful countries in the world because of the oncoming snow, but oh well. There's always next time.

The first thing I do in my hotel is connect to the internet and get on my social media page, the one I use for my alter-ego.

I'm coming online in 10 minutes. See you then!

Web camming these days is a breeze. Technically, I can do everything with my laptop, but I attach a small video camera for close-ups and different angles. It also has a significantly higher resolution, which is why the top online performers have such spectacular video streams.

The show begins after getting the technical things worked out, and I start by using the bathroom with the door open, then unpacking my luggage to get settled into the room, all without showing my face. People are always hooked on the mundane tasks. It's true voyeurism. I tell them it's a brief show because I'm meeting with colleagues for dinner later.

I masturbate wearing my uniform after the goal of 20,000 tokens is reached. It's a simple, yet fulfilling affair, as I place the camera in the center of the bed and keep my legs spread, with two fingers doing the work. I cum fast today, partly because my body craves the release, partly because I need dinner.

My son is landing here from Melbourne and he'll be staying at this same hotel. I hadn't seen him in almost a month and we're hoping for a brief reunion, which is dependent on the changing weather conditions. If the snow storm hits early, his flight may be diverted.

I climax and wet the bed sheet, which is another thing my audience likes seeing, wetness. Sometimes I pee for them. The comments on the screen agree that it was an amazing show. I thank them verbally and tell them I have to go, that I'll have time for another show before the flight leaves tomorrow, assuming we're able to make it out.

I take a quick shower and change into something casual for a hot pot dinner. I walk down the hall and knock on the door. Carmella answers, also fresh from a shower. Inside the room, Juliet and Aya are dressed for dinner, but they're on their knees giving blowjobs to these two middle-aged white guys. The ladies bob their heads while the guys are sitting on each bed.

"They're pilots from a German airline," Carmella says.

"Are they joining us for dinner?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"For that kind of head, they should be buying us dinner."

She laughs. "You know something, you're right."

I sit on a chair to watch. The pilots look at me, they like that I'm watching their debauchery. But ultimately their attention returns to the blowjobs they're getting. Juliet and Aya are some of the best in the business when it comes to layover head. These guys are almost sweating.

When they cum, their faces twist and they squeeze the blankets they're sitting on, before relaxing and feeling dazed, hoping to maintain their dignity. The men join us for dinner after I extend an invitation.

A while after dinner I'm alone in my hotel room. My son will be arriving in a few hours and I decide to sleep and give him a hug later. With the direction of the weather, it looks like we'll both be trapped here. As I lay in bed, I think of Juliet and Aya giving their world-class blowjobs to those pilots.

Once again, as a friendly reminder, these kinds of interactions are limited in the flight community, but it's like a club. Once you're in, you're in. So of course I've wondered if anyone had initiated my son into this lifestyle. Based on his flight schedule I'm sure he's had plenty of opportunities.

I close my eyes and drift to sleep. Perhaps I should give him pointers, you know, as a courtesy. Guidance. Mothers often have 'the talk' with their sons regarding sex, maybe I'll have to do something similar to avoid future problems. Because make no mistake about it, this kind of lifestyle invites drama.

***

Okay, here's another dirty secret about me. My sister Elsa knows about this. The webcam. Everything. It's a long story but we occasionally eat each other out. We've tried curbing our dirty habits but we've only had moderate success at stopping. Some things are too appetizing to stop, you know?

We're different people, I'm obsessed with fashion, while Elsa is a software developer. She has that boring, easy going, wonkish quality to her. Not that there's anything wrong with those traits. It's that no one in her life would believe that incest is her thing. Our first time trading mouths was her doing. Granted, she was nervous about it, nonetheless it was her pursuit. A slight majority of our encounters thereafter were from her request.

A few minutes ago I awoke to the news that my son is already in his hotel room. I'd also gotten text/email notification from the airline's internal communication systems that our flight had been delayed by another 12 hours. It's a blessing and a curse. Blessing because I get to spend extra time with my son. Curse because it raises the prospect that he'd be offered a blowjob, sex, or gangbang spot before I can set him straight.

While laying in bed, I use my laptop to video call my sister. It's around 5 a.m. in Seoul which means it's mid-afternoon at my sister's location. She answers the video call in her office and wears earbuds. Her eyes always light up when seeing my messy long hair and scantily clad body.

I tell her everything on my mind; that I'm going to visit my son's hotel room, that I'll perhaps get on cam later, the big flight delay, and the situation with my son's lifestyle. I always count on Elsa for the best advice because she gives analytical insight.

"You're right," she says. "You should probably sit down with him and explain the situation. I'm surprised you haven't already. Listen, sex is like drugs, we both know that. Donovan will eventually start a family and if he's addicted to random hookups, that's bad, bad news."

"Exactly what I'm afraid of."

"So you'll talk to him?"

"It would be an interesting way of greeting him."

"A bummer for sure," she says. "He'll think about how much sex he'll be missing."

"That's assuming he hasn't done anything already."

"Unless..."

"Unless what?" I ask.

"How often do your flights converge?"

"Not often. Today is a chance encounter. We've worked the same flights a few times. We could try to request more, but we agreed to have separate careers."

"Do you want to fly with him more?"

"That would be nice, but again, we agreed to have separate careers. Donovan wants to be his own man, not being the son of the hot flight attendant."

Elsa's eyes narrow. "You see, there's your answer."

"What?"

"Invite him into your world. That way, you control everything. Let the other flight attendants know that Donovan is off limits. You become his prize."

"Elsa."

"Think about it," she says. "Tell him that if he messes around other women between flights, the deal is off."

"I'm his mother."

"Precisely."

"I should tell your boss how fucked up you are."

She fires back, "I should tell your boss that you webcam in your uniform."

"Touche."

"Just think about it," she says. "It's a solid plan."

"The only reason you're suggesting this is because you want to hear the stories."

"What can I say? The incest gene is powerful."

"I'll consider it. There is a level of twisted logic to this."

"When are you going to see him?" she asks.

"Less than an hour. I need to catch him before he goes to sleep. We'll be stuck here for the day because of the snow storm."

"Wear the skirt. No panties under. Then sit across from him while you talk. Track his eye movements. If his eyes drift down, then you're in business."

"He's going to look regardless. My legs never miss."

Our back and forth continues until someone knocks on Elsa's office door and she mutes the audio. I watch the video screen of her talking. Every so often her eyes glance at the screen, to my nipples when I open my top -- I love distracting her -- then she ends the call when she has to leave.

I get out of bed and use the bathroom. I keep everything light and follow my sister's advice about wearing a skirt with no bottom. I'm still not totally convinced that this is a good idea, but I'll keep my options open.

After settling on my appearance, I go three floors up and walk down the hall, then knock on the door. Donovan answers and I give him a hug. He's always happy to see me, but like most young men with domineering mothers, he's preparing himself mentally for the annoyance of being asked how he's doing all the time. I tend to be overbearing these days.

He's dressed in something casual and he's about to nap, but I tighten the hug, telling him I need a moment of his time. I maintain the hug with my face against his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and also wondering if he's secretly attracted to me. My sister's advice never leaves my mind.

"Do you have any plans later?" I ask. "Odd question, but I'm curious."

"Yeah, sure, there are always plans. Our flight is grounded because of the snow storm."

"Same. But are you meeting up with anyone?"

"Yeah, the rest of the crew. Why? Do you want to eat together?"

I release the hug and step back, sensing something's off. I can almost feel his mischievous energy, even though he's a grown man who co-pilots a 747. Men are the same deep down, their intentions are always clear, though they get better at hiding them with age.

"Are you dating anyone?" I ask.

"That was random. No, I'm single. Too busy to date, as you can see."

"I meant with anyone in the crew. A flight attendant, perhaps?"

"You're acting weird."

For a moment I wonder if I've become a crazy, neurotic mother. My judgment might be impaired because of sleep deprivation. I chide myself for taking my sister's advice. Nonetheless I'm already here and I might as well warn him about the trappings of this lifestyle.

"Have a seat," I say.

He sits on the bed wondering what this is about, and I sit on the chair, with my legs strategically placed, but closed for now. The fireworks may come later if it gets to that point.

"What's this about?" he asks.

"Something you may or may not already know."

I throw caution to the wind and proceed to tell him everything... well, almost everything. I don't give him the full history, but I tell him what happened several hours ago, about how Julia and Aya were casually giving blowjobs to those German pilots before we had dinner. And yes, I used the word 'blowjobs' to highlight the main point. I emphasized how familiar it was to our group. I also emphasized that it's only a subset of flight attendants and pilots who partake.

The story does its job, though I neglect to mention the routine threesomes and gangbangs. Also the pussy eating which happens in the crew rest area during international flights. These are things Donovan shouldn't be concerned about at the moment. What I do with my tongue is my business.

I most certainly neglect to mention my webcam activities. It has nothing to do with him. Frankly, my webcam lifestyle is nobody's business except my sister's and the gentleman who files my taxes. There are some things a son should never know.

My first impression is that Donovan isn't as shocked as he should be, which means he already knows to some degree. I squint at him and he starts to buckle under the pressure before admitting to an oral fling with an attendant two weeks ago.

"Was she any good?" I ask.

"In what way?"

"The blowjob."

"Best I've ever had, honestly."

"My point exactly. Any flight attendant willing to give you head between flights has a wealth of experience. That can be dangerous."

"Actually, it was during the flight," he says.

"Well then."

"Is there a reason you're asking? I mean, why are we having this conversation? This seems so random and we've never talked about this before."

"I've been in this business for a long time, plus I'm your mother. You might earn more money as a pilot, but I have the experience."

"Of course, I always take your advice."

"This is dangerous," I say. "This is like flying too close to the sun. I want you to have a family, to be a faithful man. If you dabble with the wrong woman, at your age, it could get addicting. You start to view women as commodities rather than someone special. So please, if you get any suggestive invitations to hotel rooms, avoid it. Run."

"Yeah, sure, I'll avoid it."

An obvious lie, although he doesn't mean to lie. He could pass a lie detector test right now that he'll avoid flagrant sex between flights, but men are men. Sex is sex. And mouths and pussies from women in uniform will always be seductive to him.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

I pull the ace card by spreading my legs. I always keep my pubic area shaved. Donovan looks -- trying not to ogle, but he does -- and he's stunned by what I'm showing him. It's a snap decision that I'll perhaps regret someday, and before I explain myself to my son, I let him have a deep gaze so it's crystal clear what we're talking about. This is the ultimate prize for anyone. Apparently, to my son as well. He's hypnotized by a pussy.

My sister's words are prescient. 'The incest gene.' Perhaps it runs in the family.

~~~ The Sister ~~~

Before my career in software development, I wanted to work with cameras. Film, photography, anything having to do with pictures. I suppose that's how it started. We were young and I was always the camera person at family events. I'd ask Natalie if I could take pictures of her, film her, anything. She'd always agree. I've always been obsessed with her long blonde hair. It's like something out of a classic Disney cartoon.

Eventually I got serious about my life, so I used my brains and pursued computer science. But I never stopped taking her picture or recording her. She had always been my secret crush. Eventually the shots became more risque, bare shoulders, thighs, a nipple here and there. That's how it started. Her little pink nipples.

In our late 20's, she realized I was obsessed with her nipples and she let me suck them, which I did with great apprehension. She liked the attention and being worshiped as an older sister. By our early 30's, we ate each other out. That also started from a photography session. When her career as a flight attendant became full-time, we rarely saw each other and we lived in different cities.

Want to know the truth about Natalie and her webcam hustle? She's not a slut. She doesn't go around sucking random cocks, but she does play with other women. The webcam thing started as a way to keep in touch while she traveled. We'd watch each other masturbate over video stream and I suggested she start her own cam show.

The idea materialized after we spent the night together in my apartment. I rubbed ice on her nipples to watch them grow and took pictures of them. While eating her pussy, Natalie confessed that she'd been considering the webcam, and after making her cum, I showed her the process. She was hooked after I'd made her an account. I'd been watching her ever since, her shows in between flights, and she'd always get mad whenever I tipped because she doesn't want my money.