Here he was again, sitting on his ass waiting to board his flight. He didn't feel more secure, just more bored and frustrated. He'd learned to create games to amuse himself during the interminable wait. The holding pen was about half full...everyone looked equally bored. Without staring, he surveyed all the women passengers. His game was to look each of them over and imagine what her pussy would look like and how her cunt would feel around his cock. After checking them all out, he'd then choose his favorite and weave a detailed fantasy about the two of them fucking in one of the airplane toilets as the plane rushed along at twice the speed of sound.
Today it was especially easy to fall into the fantasy. He worked for Exxon-Mobile and was returning to the States after a grueling six month assignment as an advisor in Saudi Arabia. Many of the rich Saudi men regularly flew in hookers from the U. S., Japan, and Europe, but they never offered to share with their Western employees. That would expose their open secret and tarnish their patina of false holiness.
He'd worked such long hours during the final weeks, he'd not even had time to jack off. Not that he missed it that much. After six long months, taking care of himself had become so boring it was hardly worth it. Although at his age, his hand was about all he had to look forward to. Women his age didn't seem interested in sex, and younger women weren't interested in fucking geezers...unless they got paid. He wanted pussy so badly his balls hurt.
The woman he finally picked caught him staring at her. As he looked at her a little too long, he saw her dark brown eyes, above a paperback copy of Alice Hoffman's, The River King, staring right back at him. He'd noticed her when she walked into the boarding area and took a seat across from him. She wore a loose, powder blue blouse over gray pants. The pants were stylishly tailored with roomy legs, but fit snugly around her stomach and butt. When she'd turned her back to him to dig her book out of her carry on before settling in for the long wait, he'd gotten a good look at her behind. As he admired her beautiful, full ass and imagined himself pulling down her pants to give her doggy as she bent over, he felt precum wetting the folds of his foreskin.
She lowered her book to her lap and smiled at him before returning her eyes to the page. Her longish, straight nose reminded him of the American actress, Mel Harris, except it was broader and less pointy. Long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail added to the similarity. High cheek bones set off her symmetrical face. Full, but carefully shaped, black eyebrows arched over her eyes. In the brief moment she'd looked directly at him, he'd noticed the bright sparkle in her dark brown irises, silently declaring that she was a healthy woman in the prime of her life. The luster of her hair hinted that she took pride in being clean and attractive. Over the last six months he'd had a lot of practice trying to read women and create his fantasies, with only the brown eyes of the Saudi women and girls to work with. They could all be built like walruses under all that garb, but ahhh, those eyes!
Cotton socks concealed her ankles above comfortable looking athletic shoes. Skin that showed: her face, neck, and hands, glowed with a healthy brown tone. Hard to tell whether it was her natural color, a Mediterranean tan, or maybe just makeup. He wondered if she might be a face model. She was a little too heavy to be a body model. Not that her weight was a turn off. On the contrary. He'd never been very attracted to skinny women. As long as they still had a waist and a relatively flat stomach, he liked them slightly on the heavy side.
She definitely still had a waist and, although the pants might be helping a little, the area between her navel and pussy had only a slight bulge. He found the tummy sexier than board flat abs. In spite of all the advertising and marketing, he knew what attracted him in women was primitive and hard wired. The slight tummy bulge suggested that the seed he'd planted deep in her belly had taken root and that she was making him a son with nascent balls carrying his genes. The heavy tits hiding in her blouse promised that she would have plenty of milk to feed his newborn son, giving him a healthy start toward maturity, when his fully developed balls would continue to propagate those genes.
It had been so long since he'd seen more than just a face or just eyes, he relished each nuance as he glanced surreptitiously, trying not to get caught staring again. Being allowed to look at such a handsome woman was such a treat that he didn't want her to write him off as a stalker and rise in disgust to find a far away seat. She had a sexy mouth with wide, full lips, and he fantasized about what her tongue and teeth would look and feel like. Her distinct features needed no eye makeup, and she had the self confidence to know it. Same with her lips...her natural pink needed no enhancement.
She sat trying to keep her mind on the novel, but without much success. Like the man sitting across from her, she too, was preoccupied. Since she'd caught him staring, he was being more furtive, but she still felt like he was licking her from head to toe. Such obvious lust piqued her interest in him.
She owned a company in New York that marketed a lower priced clothing line and was returning from a buying trip in Paris and London. But truth be told, she did more sketching than buying, stealing designs to make low priced knock offs for her American clientele. Time being more valuable than gold, she was returning on the Concorde. In a few weeks the supersonic flights would end, a victim of economics, so she knew this might be her last chance. Many of her friends were in the mach-2 club and, during chick chat at luncheons and parties among the NY fashion set, they were constantly teasing her about joining.
So she had been checking out the men passengers to hopefully find a likely candidate to join the club with her. Being a busy career woman, she relied on her vibrator collection to fulfill her needs. They didn't care if she was in a pissy mood, nor if it was one of the heaviest days of her period. All they asked for was fresh batteries. In her business many of the men she encountered were gay, so no luck there. And yeah, her vibrators took the edge off, but still, there was simply nothing like a man's cock when it came to giving her a hard orgasm. She missed playing with real balls, and she missed the feeling of power in using her sex to morph a man's limp noodle into a hard, raging cock. Most of all, she missed the bestial, out of control urgency when he came and lost his load. More worship on the altar of her sexual power.
The other males in the boarding pen didn't look promising. All were easily past the age of consent, and she didn't have a problem screwing older men, though she had more experience with those her own age. Those who were apparently traveling with a significant other wouldn't do. The rest were either fat or appeared too slovenly, or in a few cases, both. The loo on the plane would be a tight fit, so no fatties, and she was careful about her personal hygiene, so no slobs.
Therefore, she turned her attention to the man across from her. Obviously he was interested in her, and that was half the battle. He was at least ten years older. She was 5-7 and she guessed his height at 5-9. Comfortable trousers concealed his crotch, so she could only guess at how he was hung. Brown loafers over tan socks covered his feet and ankles. He had small feet and hands, but she'd learned that that was not always a reliable indicator. She'd fucked several males who, though small boned, turned out to have cocks over seven inches, so for all she knew he might be hung like a horse. Not that it mattered. In her experience, men with small to average cocks have more stamina. Plus, they really love to eat pussy and don't mind being told how she likes it done.
He wore a short sleeved, snug fitting, knit shirt, giving an accurate picture of his build. His flat stomach and muscular chest and arms advertised that he either worked out faithfully, or that his job was physical and strenuous. She'd guess his weight at 150- 160 pounds, with minimal body fat. His arms and face were deeply tanned. He was handsome in a boyish way. His blues eyes were so bright and piercing that she wondered if he wore contacts. By far his best feature was his hair. A thick, luscious, silver mane with a part on the left, swept back from his forehead over his ears to a neatly trimmed line at the base of his skull. His black eyebrows hinted that he was not old, but rather, prematurely gray. Best of all he looked well scrubbed and proud of it. Hopefully he took the same pride in his cock and balls. Yes, he looked like the best prospect to bang her into the mach-2 club.
They finally started boarding. No crips nor brats, so the process went quickly. They all took their assigned seats. He had an aisle seat and she sat a couple rows ahead of him on the opposite side. The plane was only a little over half full, one of the main reasons British would soon mothball the fleet. He tightened his seat belt as he listened to the attendant's canned speech. Gravity pinned him to his seat as the engines roared, thrusting the Concorde into the stratosphere.
When they reached cruising altitude and the seat belt lights blinked off, he watched her take a small bag from the overhead and go to the forward loo. A couple minutes later she emerged wearing a different outfit. Still wearing her athletic shoes and anklets, she had changed from the pants to a short, loose skirt. The blouse had been replaced by a thin, knit tunic that zipped down the front. She put her former outfit in the overhead, and made her way to where he sat. With a shy smile, she asked, "Mind if I sit there?", pointing to the window seat.
For a second he considered offering to move and let her have the aisle, but then, maybe she wanted to look at the blackness and the curvature of the horizon. He just smiled back politely and replied, "Sure, be my guest." Instead of waiting for him to stand in the aisle to let her in, she awkwardly climbed over his legs while facing him. Unless her tunic concealed those phony nipples he'd seen some women wear, she wore no bra. Her legs were bare above the anklets and as she climbed over his knees, her skirt hiked up and he saw she wore no panties, even getting a fast glimpse of her hairless pussy.
After she'd finally contorted herself into her seat and settled in, the hem of her skirt stopped at mid-thigh. Like her face, the skin on her legs was also deeply tanned. He hadn't heard her speak enough to tell for sure, but from her smooth, hairless legs, he'd guess her to be an American. She caught his lingering look at her legs and commented, "You like? I treated myself to two weeks in Saint-Tropez...nude beach...so I'm brown all over."
Yes, her tan was lovely, but what he'd really been looking at was how well muscled her calves and thighs were. Daydreaming about how long she could ride him before her well toned legs grew too tired, and picturing her on top of him coming repeatedly, once again went directly from his brain to his groin, soaking his briefs with yet more precum. The fantasy picture of her tanned pussy made him even wetter.
They got a conversation going, bringing each other up to speed with brief biographies: what they did for a living, why they'd been in Europe, and so forth. His six months in Saudi Arabia intrigued her and she wanted to hear all about it. After he'd told her how monklike it had been, she leaned in closer and asked impishly, "You mean to tell me you've not been laid in six months?" He admitted that it was sad but true. This made him an even better choice. Six months without any pussy meant he was probably safe, and she KNEW she was STD free. That also explained why he'd ogled her before boarding. His brain was soaked with testosterone and he needed to unload his swollen balls...BADLY!
When the food cart came along, they both declined. One of the pluses of supersonic flight was the short time in the air, easily fitting between two real meals. Also, they were both seasoned travelers and knew better than to eat airline food. After the attendants moved on and left them alone, she finally made her move. Leaning even closer, she cupped his balls and whispered, "How would you like to join the mach-2 club and give ME this six month load?"
He kept his voice low, answering skeptically, "Well sure...look at you...what man wouldn't want to...but are you sure about this? I'm twice your age and easily old enough to be your father..."
That set her back and she just laughed, replying, "You're either flattering me or being kind...I'm older than you think." But then it occurred to her that maybe he was being neither, but rather, just being honest, so she asked him flatly, "Okay, so just how ancient are you?"
He was sure this would nix any chance he had to fuck her, but he answered truthfully, "I turned sixty-one last month."
She put her hand to her mouth to mute a surprised giggle, "Well, you coulda fooled me...I would have guessed you to be in your late forties, tops...you sure do take care of yourself."
Though she'd meant it as a statement, he took it as a question and answered, "Yes, I try to, but it does get boring." He couldn't tell for sure, but didn't think she got his private joke.
"Even so, you're not exactly right. I'm thirty-eight and certainly no longer a spring chicken myself." She whispered in his ear again, "Whatever...the offer's still good, 'ol' timer'...you wanna fuck me or not?"
He put his hand on her right breast and whispered back, "What do you THINK...absolutely!"
She quietly choreographed it for him. They would do it in the rear loo to avoid competing with the flight crew. The timing would be best late in the flight, but before they throttled down to descend to JFK. He would go first and let her in after a coded knock on the door.
When she thought the other passengers were mostly settled in and the timing seemed right, she nudged him and he made his way down the aisle. Luckily the rear loo was available and he quickly shut the door and threw the latch. After a couple of long minutes, he heard the soft, coded rap on the metal door. He let her in and relatched the door.
She took the initiative and kissed him while her hands were busy unbuckling him, unzipping him, and pulling down his trousers and underwear. In spite of his silver hair, a neatly trimmed, black bush sprouted above his crotch. Looking down to see what he'd brought to the party, she was disappointed to see he had a tiny dick, completely limp from nervousness. Taking matters in hand, she stroked the head in and out of his foreskin. Her enthusiasm apparently allayed his fear. He filled her hand with a full erection in a matter of seconds.
So much for first impressions. His hardon was on the small side of average in length, she'd guess five inches and change...plenty long enough to fill her cunt. But he had more to offer. She felt her pussy moisten as she admired her creation. One of her pet peeves was bedding men with seven inch cocks who thought that gave them the right to ignore her needs. Like the rest of him, he was endowed with a handsome cock. It curved upward in a prow shape, capped with a long, wide head, unsheathed and weeping precum. Best of all, and what got her wet in anticipation, he had the thickest cock she'd ever seen in the flesh, and she'd seen her share.
From what she'd read and heard, old guys were supposed to have erections that barely made it to horizontal(on a good day) and spongy balls that sagged halfway to their knees. She'd been fucking boys(and later men) since she turned fourteen, so she had a lot to compare him with. Her soon to be club mate had an erection as sharply angled as the horniest teenager she could remember, twitching rapidly in anticipation of getting pussy. She squeezed his shaft and felt his balls. His cock felt as hard as her first, a fourteen year old boy who was lucky enough to enjoy her first hand job. Maybe he, too, could shoot cum two feet into the air.
Her hands were average size for a woman, but she couldn't touch her middle finger to her thumb around his thick shaft. His balls were on the smaller side, but hung snugly against the root of his shaft, hard and full, filling out his nearly hairless sack. Though his package was naturally dark skinned, the tan she'd seen when he was dressed, turned out to be a farmer tan.
She was smart and experienced. When she took matters in hand, she unburdened him of the responsibility of 'getting it up' by some miracle of immaculate erection, so he relaxed and unzipped her shirt. He held her tits as he sucked her nipples. Although they were big and full, her tits were real and only sagged a little in spite of their weight. They were tanned like the rest of her and her nipples were even darker, big, brown circles with long, thick erections in their centers. Her pussy was swollen and dripping, and her clit felt like a pebble. It was his turn to take the initiative, and he grasped her legs just under her buttocks and lifted her to his waist to enter her.
She'd not weighed herself in some time, but knew she weighed somewhere between 130-140 pounds, and likely on the higher side. So, she was surprised and thrilled when he lifted her easily. The rest of him was as hard and strong as his cock. Locking her ankles behind his back and wrapping her arms around him to hold on, she pressed her tits against his muscular chest and spoke softly into his ear, "I'm ready...FUCK me!" She felt his cock blindly sliding between her lips, hungrily seeking its prize. When she felt his thick cock stretch and fill her cunt, she lightly bit his earlobe to keep from crying out as she trembled in orgasm.
In his 4+ decades of fucking women, he'd been told by many that he had a little cock. What they meant of course was that he was shorter than what they'd had before. More often than not, however, they also asked him to take it easy so that his width and thickness wouldn't hurt them. But this young woman's large, wet cunt took his cock quickly and easily. Not that she felt loose and sloppy. She came immediately, and he felt her cunt clasp him like a strong fist as she sighed in his ear. Had he been forty years younger, the pressure and excitement of her orgasm would have made him lose his load. But age and experience had taught him self control. He knew this had to be a quickie, but he wanted her to come again when he came. A hot woman in her sexual prime deserved at least that much.
Like cocks and pussies, orgasms come in all sizes. Her first was small and quick because she was starving for the sex. He had muscles in his legs to match his chest and arms. Feeling the strength and power of his cock as he fucked her soon had her climbing to her apex again. In spite of the rushed circumstances, this silver haired stud was giving her one of the best fuckings of her life. She felt the fire building in her clit and knew she was close. Her lover somehow knew it, too. He was wise enough to sense that she liked to be fucked hard as her climax took control and rolled through her. When he felt her relax, he rammed his short cock in as far he could and froze. He groaned and tensed in a spasm of release as he came. She felt his thickness in her cunt flex repeatedly as the muscles behind his balls pumped out his cream.
It had been so long, but now he remembered why jacking off was third rate sex. It only gave him a small orgasm and released the pressure. He knew some men would rather be sucked off than fucked, but he wasn't one of them. This sexy woman had just reminded him why he loved pussy so much. The fire in his cockhead burned up into his brain, exploding in a mind blowing orgasm. The hair on his arms stood in gooseflesh as every muscle in his body contracted. He felt the hot release as cum raced through his groin and shot out of his cock. Pussy: there is no substitute!