Fuzzy Flight

I would like to read more stories with wool fetish as a theme, like some of the stories submitted by Smother or Maude. That being the case; I have tried to write a story in the same vein myself. Comments and improvements are appreciated.

It was winter and bitterly cold outside. I was leaving my home town on a late-night flight to go to university, unsure of what the future might bring. I was half asleep, waiting for my flight to start boarding, when she entered the waiting area; a vivacious blonde in a fantastic fuzzy blue turtleneck sweater and high-heeled knee-long musketeer boots. If I should describe her in just three words, she was 'curvy, sexy and hot'.

I could pinpoint the age of my friends within a year or so, but I could not determine her age with any accuracy. Not that it mattered - she looked great. She was probably not in her thirties - there was a certain maturity and ripeness about her that made me suspect that she was a bit older. But she was probably not past fifty either, but who could really tell. Her makeup was flawless, and I instantly noticed her long, pointed, scarlet fingernails. Her on-board luggage consisted of a leather shoulder-bag and a large, chunky knitted coat that she had on her arm.

She did not belong to my generation, but she looked more desirable than anyone I had ever met before. She looked so sure of herself, so confident and so feminine in that fluffy, fuzzy blue sweater that hugged her body. The sweater followed the contour of her hips, and a wide, rib-knit section tucked it in nicely below her sexy bottom. A wide, black leather belt matching her black boots was cinched around her waist and emphasized her full, hourglass figure.

I had always had a thing for self-confident mature women. Girls my own age were either childish and boring or haughty and condescending. But I often got on great with the mothers of many of my friends. This woman, however, was something else again. I could see that I was not the only male person that was giving her a good look-over.

We started boarding, but I held back, taking a last, longing look at the beautiful blonde as she approached the gate. As it happened, I reached the gate just after her and stood there panting as I stared at her fantastic well-rounded bottom. I had to control myself in order not to reach out and feel that gorgeous sweater.

When I showed my boarding pass, there turned out to be some problem with my seating or over-booking or something like that. The blonde lady must have overheard, because she turned around and said a few words I did not catch to the stewardess at the gate. Obviously, that solved the problem and I was waived aboard.

I had expected a cramped seat at the back of the plane, but the on-board hostess showed me to one of the front rows on business class. The mature blonde had the window seat, her chunky coat lay on the seat next to her and I had the seat next to the aisle.

She politely invited me to move her coat and sit next to her. I marvelled at the softness and fluffiness of her coat as I moved it, and could not help myself from stroking and patting it as I had it in my hands. It was marvellous. I knew I was a wool fetishist deep down. She patted the seat next to her. Oh, those long red fingernails were so sexy. I felt very self-conscious sitting next to her - she was so beautiful and so attractive. I am sure that my cheeks were flushing beet-red.

She chatted me up right away, innocent small-talk of the kind I knew from the mothers of many of my friends. Where I was going? What I would be doing there? I answered mostly in short, timid sentences the way most young men do, but she did not relent. After a short while she knew everything about me and I nothing about her. I just knew that she knitted and loved to knit all kinds of garments. And that she had a friendly smile, fine teeth, perfect makeup, lovely full bosom, soft blonde curls and dangerously long scarlet fingernails - I could not help myself staring.

She had her knitting needles out and as knitting what looked like a small sock in the same colour as her super-soft sweater. My eyes were transfixed on her knitting needles and her fingers and nails. I could not understand how she could knit so fast and without dropping a stitch with those long nails. In my mind I wondered what it would feel like to be scratched by those nails. I also wondered if her sweater was just as soft and cuddly as her coat. Or how she would react if I reached out and touched her.

I had some fantasy images of my cock being buried in the soft wool of her sweater and her hands slowly stroking it. Or those nails scratching the inside of my thighs and my naked dick. I remembered an image I had once seen in a porn magazine of long, sharp fingernails like hers tormenting a stiff pulsating cock, tearing into the naked skin causing intense lust, excitement and pain all at once. I believe I must have groaned or something, because she looked strangely at me.

The lights had been turned down in the cabin, and many of the passengers were taking a nap. The hostesses were handing out blankets. My blonde friend must have decided that I needed small nap myself, because without much ado she raised the armrest between us, put her arm around me and drew me close. Oh, that felt so nice. I let myself and nuzzled my head against her shoulder, buried my face in her hair and the thick soft wool of her turtleneck sweater.

She had a hostess cover us with her thick, soft and woolly winter coat. I do know whether we were taken for mother and son, and I did not care. I was in heaven. It was so nice and warm next to this gorgeous mature woman and under her warm fluffy coat. My trousers were bulging - I was excited, but I would have been content with just being allowed to nuzzle up close to her for the duration of the flight. However, soon I felt her hands on me, opening my shirt, and her fingernails softly scratching my cheek, my chin, my neck and my chest. That felt so good. The scratching of her fingernails made me even more sensitive to the soft, but also slightly itchy wool when she brushed me with her sleeves.

I could not help myself and began to explore her body, my roaming hands unseen under the great coat. I stroked the outside of her thighs, felt the shape of her hips, venture boldly upwards towards her chest. I hardly dared touch her breast, but I let my hands float over the outer ends of the soft fluffy wool just following the contour. I felt a nipple stiffen under my hand, and now it was her turn to groan.

For miles and miles we rocketed through the winter air exploring each other's bodies. She alternated between softly stroking my naked skin and scratching it. I alternated between stroking her woollen-clad body and groping her thighs, her hips and her breasts. I lightly pinched her nipples through the soft wool, and she responded by scratching my own nipples - hard. I pinched her nipples harder, and she grabbed hold of one of my nipples with the sharp ends of her fingernails and twisted - hard. I groaned into her neck, the thick wool muffling my sounds.

My hand had found its way between her legs, under her sweater. Her thighs were covered in silky smooth nylons and felt cool and warm at the same time. At first she held her thighs close together, preventing any further progress, but slowly she relented. I let my hand explore further, reaching the wide, slight scratchy band of her stay-up stockings. At the same time I felt her fingers manipulating my trouser belt. As my hand touched her soft mound encased in lacy, patterned panties, her hand enclosed my stiff member and started scratching and stroking it through my shorts. I was close to cumming then and there, but she deftly alternated between scratching me at all the sensitive spots and stroking me lovingly - ever so slowly. I lifted my hips from the seat so that she could manipulate my stiff cock out of the restraints of my shorts.

Around us people were asleep or dozing. I could hear the hostesses walking up and down the centre aisle, but I felt no mental restraint, no holding back. This was heaven. I was so warm, so safe in this mature woman's warm embrace, and more excited than I had ever been before. I stroked the outside of her panties with my fingers, feeling the contour of her soft pussy, building images of her mature pussy from the sensations of my exploring fingers. Behind the lacy front I could feel her labia and a wet spot forming. As she slightly parted her legs further I could feel the slight depression that constituted the opening between her outer cunt lips. An opening closed to me by her panties.

The sleeves of her sweater felt so nice stroking my naked skin, but now something equally soft was caressing my straining member. I remembered the miniature sock she had knitted. That must be it. She was easing this soft garment down over my cock, inches at a time. I was ready to spurt, but she expertly took her time, squeezed my cock and waited for the built-up tension to subside before progressing further. In the meantime some of my fingers had circumvented the obstacle of her panties and found their way behind the elastic band. Oh, she was dripping wet and very excited. Slick with moisture two of my fingers slipped in between her cunt lips and found the secret passage to her love canal.

She had managed the cover all of my rod with her custom-made mohair sleeve. It even encompassed my nuts and felt ever so soft. Slowly she started pumping my cock in response to my fingers massaging the inside of her sex. She started bucking her hips as if to impale her sex further on my hand. Her hand now stroked my dick hard and quick, and as I heard her panting softly and felt her pussy muscles pulsate and clamp around my exploring fingers, my dam burst and I shot load after load of semen into the woollen sleeve and all over my trousers. I was a mess.

To add to my distress, the Fasten Seat Belt-sign and the cabin lights came on just seconds thereafter. My blonde friend looked flushed - the red colour to her cheeks just made her even more attractive. She pushed my hand away and straightened her sweater and looked full of self-confidence again.

With a wry smile, she started to pull the coat away - the coat that hid the mess I had made of myself. I was frantically trying to zip up my trousers, buckle my belt and button up my shirt, but I knew I would have a huge wet spot down the front of my trousers. She smiled at me and said that she would kindly let me carry her coat for her. I could just hold it in front of me, and nobody would be the wiser.

Not much later we had landed and ready to embark. I was limp all over - totally exhausted from the excitement and unexpected release. Now, what would the future bring?