Nice to Meet You

Alan barely noticed the girl as he headed down the coach aisle. He followed the numbers down to row 14, preoccupied with the fruits of his trip. The 5-day summit for internal martial arts had been precisely what he'd needed to refocus his training, and he was looking forward to getting home and trying a few new things with his sparring partners.

When he found the number, he looked up at the letters marked on the armrests. 14B: he had the aisle seat. He stepped aside to let the old woman behind him pass, and this absentminded movement into the slow but steady stream of aisle traffic caused the bear of a man assigned to 16A to bump into him, which caused him to nudge the girl shoving a large carry-on bag into the overhead. Reaching up as she'd been, her balance was easily compromised, and as she righted herself, her bag had begun to slide out of its compartment.

His left hand shot up instinctively to secure the luggage, and his right reached out to steady her, catching her hip to feel the unexpected sensation of bare flesh.

"Sorry about that," the huge man in front of them rumbled.

"No harm done," Alan replied, then turned to make his own apology to the girl. She was half a head shorter than him, with short blonde hair that had a touch of blue at the tips. When their eyes met he noticed that hers were a gorgeous shade of hazel, looking up at him from under heavy, dark lashes. Her lips looked deliciously plump and soft.

With a start he realized that his hand was still on her hip. He quickly removed it, and then realized that he hadn't spoken to her yet. "Sorry," he finally said.

She said "It's fine" in a voice that made him think of velvet against skin, her smile polite with a glint of amusement, and turned to sit down in seat 14A. Alan shook his head at the little thrill he felt when he realized this girl was going to be sitting next to him.

While he was highly appreciative of feminine form, Alan considered it rude to stand around gawking openly at attractive women. Nonetheless, he couldn't seem to help giving her a second, more detailed look as she took her seat. Her purple button-down shirt fit snugly at her chest but wasn't form-fitting, and her jeans rode a bit low, exposing the bit of bare hip he'd felt when he'd caught her, but weren't tight. The somewhat plain clothing couldn't hide that her body was an enticing flow of soft curves, but what drew his eye the most was the subtle pout of those full lips; without any conscious prompt, his mind provided a vivid simulation of the touch of those lips against his own.

She glanced up at him, and he quickly busied himself putting his backpack under his seat. He was already embarrassed at becoming tongue-tied earlier, and this flight would last a while; the last thing he wanted was to make things awkward between them and then have to stew in that awkwardness for two hours. He settled back, buckled his seatbelt when the stewardesses began their spiel about safety, and tried to reroute his train of thought from the stunning creature seated next to him, running through common attacks, counters, and exercises to practice both.

Twenty minutes later, Alan woke to her by him, and opened his eyes to a fantastic view of her from behind as she delicately stepped over his legs to get into the aisle; he marveled at how fantastic an ass could look even in loose pants. When she turned to look at him over her shoulder he quickly averted his gaze, and belatedly pulled his legs back to make it easier for her to pass. She stepped into the aisle and opened the overhead, rummaging around a bit before pulling out an mp3 player and and earbud set. When she passed again to return to her seat Alan made sure his gaze was focused elsewhere, but he turned back and met her eyes when she looked at him. It had to be wishful thinking, but it seemed that now there was a bit more than politeness and amusement to her smile.

The girl put the earbuds in and started a song. He could hear it faintly, a woman's vocals with a heavy bassline. Alan picked up a magazine out of the seat-back in front of him and began to flip through it, seeing precious little of interest as he wasn't much of a food critic. The next one seemed more promising, showing on the cover a riverbank in front of a lush jungle, and he scanned through the contents.

He had no sooner selected an article and started in on it than he found himself distracted by his peripheral vision. What had started as subtle movements to the song's beat became more and more dynamic as she became engrossed in it, until she was dancing in her seat. He kept scanning the first line of what would at another time be a fascinating documentation of wildlife in and around Amazon river tributaries, without reading a word of it. All of his attention was focused on the corner of his sight where her sinuous, rhythmic movement flowed an arch into her back, lifting her shirt a bit higher on her stomach and thrusting her breasts up and out before the wave receded.

The orange light of transition from afternoon to evening spilled in through the windows, across the exposed tops of her breasts – had she always had that many buttons undone? - and inside the gap beneath the last button of her shirt where her navel was hidden and revealed to him in an undulating rhythm. It was very clear that he would not be able to avoid being fascinated by this girl.

She turned toward him just as he realized that he'd been staring directly at her. The smirk on her face, he supposed, would indicate that she was aware of the effect she was having on him and didn't mind it, but out of reflex Alan snapped back to his article, determinedly forcing himself to at least process the first sentence.

'Photographing Hoatzin from a moving canoe is harder than it looks.' The girl giggled quietly, and Alan flushed red with embarrassment.

It didn't seem possible that this youthful vision of sexuality could have any kind of interest in him; she undoubtedly got dopey looks like the one she'd caught on his face all the time, from all sorts. If anything, she was probably just teasing to see what other faces he could make.

He stiffened when he felt a light touch on his arm, and stiffened differently when he felt the touch trace briefly down his bicep. Then again, Alan thought, that might not be so bad. He closed the magazine, replaced it in the seat-back and turned toward the girl.

She looked pleased with his decision, and leaned forward for a moment to look past him. Alan briefly followed her eyes across the aisle: the old woman in 14D was asleep, her breath fogging a small part of the window, and 14C was empty. When he turned back to her, she was putting her music player and earphones into her shirt pocket. She began tracing a finger down her collarbone, the followed the curve of her cleavage; the slight pressure of her fingertip made a little dimple in the soft flesh as it passed. She toyed with the highest fastened shirt button, her nonchalant expression betraying a hint of mischief. He watched with rapt attention.

It stayed fastened and she continued down over her shirt, watching her own descent along the line of buttons until she passed the last one and skimmed down the little space of bare midriff. She turned her eyes to him as she unfastened her jeans, then began to pull down the zipper. Alan saw only skin where underwear could have been before she stopped and brought the zipper back up.

Her grin widened at the expression on his face, and she drew her fingertip back up her stomach, catching on the bottom button and dragging her shirt slowly upward. He took in every inch of smooth, pale skin that she revealed. The cups of a light-green bra came into view, and then the ample cleavage that it contained. The girl cocked her head at Alan, raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Glorious," he answered.

That quiet laugh again, and then her eyes flicked up the aisle and she smoothly but quickly pulled her shirt back down. Moments later, a stewardess came down the aisle with a refreshments cart. They both waved away the offer of food or drink, but before the stewardess could continue past the girl said, "Actually, could I get a blanket? I'm a little chilly." As the woman in uniform walked off, Alan turned to look at his seatmate, who in turn leaned over again to look at the woman across the row. She had stirred a bit from the passing of the cart, but quickly settled back to sleep.

Satisfied, the girl turned so her back was partly towards Alan, raised her shirt again until the clasp of her bra was revealed, and looked back at him expectantly. Alan hesitated, but in that moment he couldn't imagine what else she could mean: he reached over and undid the clasp, with thankfully minimal difficulty. When the straps fell away, he indulged himself and let his knuckles drift lightly down the uninterrupted curve of her back; her skin was even silkier than it looked, and she shivered lightly at his touch.

Her shirt had barely dropped back to its normal place when the stewardess returned. The girl thanked her brightly for the blanket, and immediately set to draping it over herself. Alan watched her hands moving methodically down her front under the cloth; after one more check on the sleeper across the row, she reached across his lap to take his left hand and guide it under the blanket.

When she brought him to the meeting place of the sides of her shirt, he found that all of the buttons were undone. He moved the fabric out of the way and his palm caressed the slight roundness of her belly, drinking in the feel of her bare skin. When she felt him start to take initiative, she stopped guiding him, but left her hand resting lightly on his. His explorations trended upward, until he reached the cups of her bra. Hooking his index finger in the fabric between the cups, he pulled up; the bra offered minimal resistance, and soon enough he felt her breasts pass by either side of his hand as they bounced free of the garment.

Alan brushed his fingertips over the top of her breast at first, then curved underneath. The warm weight of the deliciously soft handful filled his mind with a haze of arousal. She held his eyes with a deceptively innocent expression as she pressed her hand over his gently, and he felt her nipple hardening against the center of his palm. He squeezed and stroked the soft flesh, rubbed up and down, felt the thick, firm tip drag along his skin. Her eyes drifted shut and a smile played at the corner of her mouth as she bit her lip. She guided his hand to her other breast; he felt her other nipple push between his fingers, barely heard her contented sigh as he gave it a gentle tug.

Night had just about fallen. A few people in the plane had turned their lights on, but the closest person to them who had was three rows forward. The girl reached out from under the blanket and slid her hand up his thigh, to lightly trace his erection through his pants with one fingernail. It was his turn to close his eyes and let out a deep breath as she idly squeezed his shaft and circled his head with her thumb.

She started to guide his hand again, this time downward with agonizing slowness. Alan let her move him at her pace; despite wanting to touch her everywhere at once, he didn't want to ruin whatever it was that he was doing with this woman. He had frankly never been so turned on by someone in his entire life.

Alan pulled down the zipper of her still-unbuttoned jeans. She scooted forward and parted her legs as far as she could; he was glad she was wearing loose pants. His hand slid down over the light stubble on her mound, felt thick, damp heat radiating from below. She tilted her hips up when his middle finger grazed her clit on its way to the bottom of her slit. Her eyes fluttered shut as he parted her slick lips with a few gentle strokes, and she let out a shaky moan when he curled underneath her hood and began rolling her swollen bud on the slicked pad of his fingertip.

He loved the way her hips twitched in miniature thrusts as he circled her clit. He pressed down on it for a moment and felt her quickened pulse throbbing against his finger, dropped to tease her lips again and felt her lift her butt off the seat in an effort to get his finger inside her.

In a few minutes the girl's breath came in pants and restrained moans, and Alan was right on the verge of cumming in his boxers; the cloth barrier between her hand and his dick was mattering less and less. The fact that he could hear, but not see, the sliding of his fingers as two moved slowly in and out of her hot, pulsing tunnel, squeezing the digits so tightly that it felt like he could only move inside her because of the small flood of wetness slicking her inner walls, didn't help at all. She kept him perfectly on edge, and he tried to do the same for her. But seeing the look on her face, brow knit in concentration, lip bitten hard to keep from making too much noise, and the way she writhed in her seat, trying to find the best way to fuck his hand... He had to see her cum.

He curled his fingers upward, rubbed the front of her walls, and in moments she dropped her head back, clamping her thighs down on his hand. Her breath caught, and then a strained but soft whimper escaped her as one gush of wetness after another flowed onto his hand, soaking the seat below.

Soon she relaxed, and directed an appreciative grin at him; he could still feel the occasional tremor through her body as he let one finger trail up and down her slit. She gently guided his hand up away from between her legs and resumed her light touches on his cock. This girl still seemed determined to keep him hovering right before the point of no return. She had stopped stroking him entirely when she came, which was fortunate for him; if that sight of her had accompanied the feeling of her jerking him off, his pants would be a mess right now.

Come to think of it, they'd be a mess soon enough if she kept up what she was doing, as each tease was bringing him closer and closer to release. He felt her start to open his zipper, and while part of him eagerly anticipated feeling her soft, cool hands on his bare cock, another part of him was just grateful to avoid the discomfort before he'd be able to change into new boxers.

She arched an eyebrow when she saw his dick out in open air, trailing one finger up the underside of the shaft to the tip, tracing the ridge of the crown. The light touches brought him achingly close, and Alan strained upward, head tilted back, almost there...

With his eyes closed, the wet warmth of her lips around his shaft came as a shock. It took everything he had to delay his orgasm for another few seconds, which she spent taking him deeper into her mouth. Then she swallowed the first spurt, sucking hard as she slid up and down his shaft, taking his cum down her throat.

How much time passed as he came in her mouth, Alan would never know. But eventually her head rose from his lap, and she wiped her mouth before sticking out her hand. "I'm Riley," she said simply. Alan had to laugh, but tried to keep it down since his cock was still out. And still completely hard, he noticed.

"Nice to meet you," he finally said, and shook the offered hand. "Alan."

"You look like you can handle another round," Riley said, looking at his lap with a grin.

"I'd certainly love to try."

With that, the fasten seatbelt signs came on, and a stewardess began to talk about descent. The two of them fixed their clothing in a hurry, but a quick glance to their left made it clear that it hadn't been quick enough for the old woman across the row to miss it. Alan shrugged at her with a weak grin. After a moment of shaking her head, Riley leaned over him towards their neighbour and put a finger to her lips. The woman rolled her eyes, but nodded.

Riley rested her head on Alan's shoulder as the plane smoothly approached the airport. He kept his arm around her waist, stroking the bit of exposed bare hip with his thumb while her slender fingers traced up and down his thigh just above his knee. That little bit of contact kept him partially hard all the way through their touchdown and taxi into the gate. When the lights came all the way on and the seatbelt signs blinked off again, Alan stood and retrieved Riley's bag from overhead, holding it out to her once she got out to the aisle. She put her mp3 player back into the front pocket, and the line began to crawl forward.

Once they had finally filed in to the airport, Alan turned to speak to Riley, unsure of what to say. A few seconds passed just staring at her: the hazel eyes sparking with heat and mischief, the questioning tilt of her head, the hint of a smirk touching a corner of her perfectly-formed mouth...

Without a word, he pulled her to him and finally tasted the succulent lips that had been driving him mad. Riley kissed him back eagerly, making a muffled sound of approval when he sucked on her bottom lip and then nibbling on his. He kissed down her neck to just above her collarbone, and she tilted her head and sighed before pushing him gently away. When Alan looked around and sheepishly realized they were very much in public view, he began to apologize.

"This place is pretty dead," Riley spoke first. Her bag was slung over one shoulder as she scanned her surroundings.

Alan cast a few glances around, and realized she was right: even though it was only around 9:30, the medium-sized airport had precious little traffic flowing through it. While slightly interesting to note, her casual tone made it seem like something of a non-sequitur. "I suppose so, yes."

"Gimme your phone - here, this is my number. And... now I've got yours. Okay, wait here for a second." Riley rushed off, leaving Alan to wait and wonder.

A text message several minutes later sent a jolt of anticipation through him. "Ladies room near gate f" was all it said. Alan looked up; he was at Gate C. He tried to strike a balance between appearing casual and getting three gates down as fast as humanly possible, and managed to find his destination with no more than a few odd looks.

The plane for Gate F had likely just left recently, as there was no one waiting by it. Alan hesitated for only a split second, glancing quickly around before pushing open the restroom door and walking in. Riley was to his left, leaning against one of the sinks; her backpack was underneath it, her green bra discarded on top of it. Her shirt was completely open and her eyes were shut tight. Her right hand was kneading a naked breast, her thick nipples darkened and standing out from being roughly teased. Her other hand was inside her unfastened jeans, and he could hear the distinct sound of a drenched slit being rubbed furiously.

When the door closed behind him, Riley's eyes opened and fixed a predatory gaze on Alan. She grabbed something off of the sink and then pushed her pants down her legs, kicking them off as she marched towards him. Alan was transfixed, by the onslaught of visual stimulation and by the openly aggressive approach she made now. Transfixed, and probably harder than he'd ever been.

A few steps away from being nose-to-nose with him, she stopped, feet set wide apart and hands on her hips, just barely wearing her dress shirt and naked from the waist down. He could see her the fingers of her left hand were coated with her cream, saw her inner thighs glisten with her juices. Her pussy was flushed a deep pink, with thick, swollen lips; in the quiet moment that passed, he heard the soft pat of a droplet hitting the floor, and realized that she was literally dripping wet.

"Take this off," Riley practically growled, tugging at his shirt. Alan lifted his arms and she tore it off of him, tossing it in the general direction of the sink where she'd placed her things. "Put this on," she said, holding up what she'd snatched from the sink. He grabbed the condom and quickly set to undoing his pants. He wound up having to do it blind as she immediately shoved her tongue in his mouth, pushing him against the wall and tracing the muscles of his chest. Once he'd gotten his pants undone, she reached down and pulled his length out for the second time, and he got the wrapper open, got it facing the right way, and rolled the condom onto himself.