The Hippolyta Project Ch. 02

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Fiona reveals more about the project; a flight home is fun.
4.1k words
4.84
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Part 2 of the 2 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 04/24/2014
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Special thanks to DawnJ for her invaluable help editing this story.

***

Fiona had just told me that she recorded our - albeit extremely hot - sex. Pardon me, not just recorded, but streamed live out across the Web to something called the Hippolyta Project. Or fucking me was the Hippolyta Project. Or something.

A surge of panic rose in my chest. She was my direct report at work. If anyone from the office saw the video, we'd both be out on the street that day, jobless. What if my parents saw? Panic gave way to a wave of anger. She had deceived me, recorded me without my permission. Was she blackmailing me, or just using me?

Then suddenly images from our incredible coupling flooded back in. Our passionate kissing. Her bare pussy peeking up unexpectedly from underneath her skirt. Her standing in front me, letting me take her all in, wearing nothing but her excellent tattoos. Her making sure I was watching as she took my throbbing cock in her mouth. Her whispering in my ear, advising me to "hold on," before riding me and taking her own pleasure. Her climax, and mine.

I looked down at her. She slender body still snuggled close, still drawing gentle circles in my chest hair with her fingertips. Her stormy dark blue-grey eyes were looking up at me, pouty lips even more red with arousal, cool hair slightly mussed. There was no malice, nothing sinister there. She was still glowing from our coupling. She had called it "perfect."

In the background, I saw my cock slowly lift off my stomach, filling again with blood and lust. I looked at it with some surprise. She saw my eyes change location, and she looked down, and then quickly back up into my eyes. She licked her lips, and slowly and languidly shifted, climbing more onto me.

She whispered, in that incredible husky voice of hers, "This is going better than I had planned."

I exhaled sharply. This woman ... was this actually happening?

She kissed me. Again, pure passion. We kissed for a long time. That definitely happened.

Finally, we caught our breath. I said, "So, tell me about it."

She slid back down my body again, head on my chest. She began to stroke my cock lightly, caressing it. It occurred to me that this woman was in complete control of her every movement. She had unfaltering agility and grace.

"The Hippolyta Project is a by-invitation-only, entirely female run community for peer-to-peer amateur pornography sharing," she said.

She paused to let me make sense of that.

"Oh," I said.

After a beat or two she made her exasperated noise.

"Didn't you used to be a reporter?"

"A long time ago," I said.

"How about you ask some fucking questions?" she grunted.

"Sometimes not saying anything gets you the best material," I said. "Especially if someone wants to tell you something. Like if they're proud of what they've done."

She picked up her head, propped herself up on her forearm across my chest and leveled a stare at me. She raised an eyebrow, appraising if I was taking the piss out of her. I tried to keep a totally straight face, but I'm pretty sure I smiled.

"I am proud," she said. "It's an amazing thing to be a part of."

"Well my brief experience with it has been nothing short of amazing," I said. I leaned down and gave her a nice long kiss, to show her I meant it.

"Watch it, or it might remain brief," she said.

She crawled down my body, past my hard cock, then looked up at me and took it in both hands. She ran her tongue all the way up my shaft.

"Sex is important to me," she said.

I made a throaty groan of approval.

She pursed her pouty red lips around my tip, and rubbed it between them.

"The Project is a way for women to control the erotica they want to see, to create and share," she said after a while. "Women choose their partners, who they want to share with the community via video, and who they want to share the community with."

"Does every guy get ambushed with this?" I asked.

"No," she said. "But many guys, when they know a camera is on, start performing for the camera and not for the woman who has singled them out as special. So lots of the women tell them after the fact. Some take it better than others."

"How am I taking it?"

She took me all the way into her mouth, and slowly bobbed her head on my cock for a little while.

"Better than most," she said, eventually. "It's technically illegal in most places."

"Not technically," I said. "It's illegal just to record conversations without both parties knowing."

"Sometimes money changes hands," she shrugged. "Usually guys come around once they get a feel for the project and realize some of the benefits. Plus the women who post generally don't choose assholes. I was willing to make an exception in your case."

She punctuated that last jab with a playful swirl of her tongue.

"It's incredibly empowering," she continued. "If I really want a man, I do something about it. I judge his character, to see if he actually can handle it, if I want him to know about the Project. I seduce him; if that goes well, I fuck him how and when I want. I have a community supporting me, completely non-judgmental. It's so sexy to show off my conquest, have them rooting for me. They get to see what I like, I get to see what they like."

She began to softly lick me again. My head sagged back on my shoulders and I stared at the ceiling, mind in a fog.

"Hippolyta, Shakespearean Hippolyta, because she's one of his strongest female characters, and a warrior," I said. I was thinking aloud. "She's beautiful, sexy; she's Theseus' equal even before he makes her queen."

Fiona looked up at me. Her eyes smoldered. Apparently she liked a little English lit talk in bed. I smiled; she began stroking me with her little hands. I groaned again.

I had a sudden realization.

"Where is the camera?"

She smiled.

"I'm impressed it's taken you this long," she said. "Actually, there are two, one on the desk over there, one on the bedside table. They're webcams connected to a laptop. I paid for the extra hard-wired internet."

Sure enough, there they were. They weren't conspicuous, but they weren't hidden either. Obviously, I had been focused on something else when we came in.

"I don't think you should expense that to the company," I said.

She gave me a playful squeeze.

I reached down and pulled her towards me. She let go of my cock and came up to kiss me without complaint. We locked lips.

"Do me a favor, Fiona," I whispered, eventually.

She tilted her head, curious.

"Turn them off now."

She kissed me again. After a time, she got up and half-sauntered over to the laptop perched on the desk. After a few keystrokes, she walked back to the bed and crawled up next to me. We kissed again, and her hand strayed back to my cock, still hard as an iron bar.

"You okay?" she asked, after another long bout of kissing.

"I'm not sure," I said. "You totally ambushed me, and it might cost me my job. That's kind of bullshit, and not something a friend would do. I've had an up and down last couple of months, and if I lose my job things would definitely be trending down."

She looked up at me, eyebrow cocked, hand full of cock. She wasn't sorry, that much was clear immediately.

"But..." she said.

But. Indeed.

"But it was the hottest fucking thing ever," I said in a rush.

She kissed me. Then she said, "Who ever said we were friends?"

I kissed her back. I couldn't help it. I realized then, as our lips slowly caressed each other, as our tongues lightly darted, that I wasn't actually mad. I was inflamed with passion. Something about this woman, her audacity, her frankness, her "by-invitation-only, entirely female run community for peer-to-peer amateur pornography sharing" completely took me out of my comfort zone.

It was a new experience, one that she blindsided me with, but one she had sought out to have with me. One she called "perfect."

For the second time that night, my blood boiled and surged in my veins. Her hand, still lightly gliding over my cock, felt the surge and she tightened her grip. I began to kiss her more insistently.

She made a fist and began jerking me harder. I grabbed both her arms and pulled her atop me. Her slight little body came up easily. I reached up and held her face, giving her a long look of lust. Then I pulled her towards mine and kissed her hungrily.

There are millions of teenage boys who only know about sex from free internet porn. Unfortunately, they all learn eventually, not every stroll across a warehouse leads to anal. And they are totally unaware of the erotic possibilities of a kiss.

This woman had sucked my cock, twice. She had climbed atop me and ridden me in a lust-filled romp that blew my mind. But that kiss told me more about how she felt, and about how I felt about her and this situation she had thrust me into, than anything else. I kissed her with everything I had. And she gave it right back.

All doubts, all trepidation, all restraint fled. My desire swelled. I broke our kiss. I grabbed her upper arms again, and spun her onto the bed. I caught her off guard; she squealed. Still holding her arms, I pulled her to the side of the bed so I could stand. I grabbed her leg just below the knee with my left hand. With my right hand, I grabbed my cock.

I looked up into her eyes. They were the closest thing to timid I'd seen from this beautiful creature; maybe mildly curious on someone normal. I looked down, and watched as I guided myself into her with a thrust. I buried myself to the hilt easily. My skin slapped against hers. She groaned.

She was soaking wet. My cum was still oozing out of her and her juices felt like they had never slowed down. I reached up with my right and and grabbed her other leg. I began pounding her. I looked at her face as I fucked her hard. She had this look of disbelief on her face, which was mixed with something that looked like ... ecstasy.

I fucked her harder. She closed her eyes and began that low wail again.

I took my right hand and rotated her legs down so they were pressed together and her torso was sideways on the bed. I pinned her legs with my left hand, right hand on her upper arm, and I held her down. I never stopped pumping into her. The new angle had me jabbing her g-spot. She came hard.

I moved my right hand from her upper arm to her throat and squeezed, just enough. Her eyes bolted open. I kept fucking her, pinned just like that. And she came, and came, and came.

I was ready to come too. I pulled out of her, growled and sprayed my cum all over her lithe, heaving, tattooed body.

I stood above her, panting, holding my cock. She looked up at me, panting. And then she smiled.

***

The next morning we had an early flight out of Heathrow. Early that morning, I had retreated back to my room, showered, and dressed for the flight.

I usually fly in something comfortable. At 6' 5", flying coach is a nightmare, so any little bit of comfort I can manufacture is crucial. Sweatpants and a hoodie are usually the go-to outfit.

When I met Fiona in the lobby I saw she was in the other camp: she dressed up for flights. She was wearing a nice skirt and blouse, and makeup.

"You look nice," I said, leaning in for a kiss.

She stepped back. "Thanks," she said frigidly. She turned and walked to the hotel desk and checked out.

She ignored me all the way to and through Heathrow.

Shuffling through the endless security line I wracked my brain, trying to remember if I had made any sort of obvious misstep. I could think of none. Was it because I told her she looked nice?

Heathrow is one of those amazing places sprinkled around the world like Grand Central Station or Port Miami. It's basically its own thriving city. Millions of people from all over the world come and go, politely ignoring each other. There are people of all color and creeds doing the exact same thing, trying to go somewhere else.

It's an incredible place to people watch. Despite being surrounded by other people, there is so much bustle that you're essentially alone. So I tried to take it all in, but I couldn't stop thinking about Fiona. Her behavior was simultaneously off-putting and intoxicating. She was driving me crazy.

She sat a few seats away in the terminal, pointedly ignoring me and doing something on her phone. She looked very classy dressed up as she was; I'm sure I looked like a shlub. As I glanced at her, flashes from the night before flickered in my brain.

Her strut across the bar. Her slow-motion spin as we entered her room. Her bare pussy peeking out from under her skirt. Her eyes meeting mine as she swallowed my cock for the first time. Her riding me, pleasuring herself with my thick dick. Cumming all over her writhing, tattooed body.

It was all I could do to keep my rock hard cock pinned in my waistband and not tenting my sweatpants. I glanced back at Fiona; she was still ignoring me. I looked around the terminal and saw a dark-skinned woman looking at me. Her eyes flicked to my crotch, then back at my face. She smirked. I obviously wasn't that successful at concealing my erection.

Finally our flight boarded. Fiona and I were several rows apart but both towards the back of the plane. Through some sort of minor miracle, there was no one in the middle seat.I had an aisle seat; I usually prefer a window, but that was taken by a middle-aged woman. With shoulders as broad as mine, anytime someone walked up and down the aisle I get jostled. The drink cart is public enemy number one.

Despite this, I was able to doze off for a bit. It had been a long night. I dreamed about running my tongue and hands all over Fiona's body.

I awoke when something warm and wet ran the length of my bare left arm. I blinked twice and then turned to look behind me; Fiona's figure was walking down the aisle away from me, towards the bathrooms at the back of the plane, hips swaying suggestively.

I touched my arm, and it was definitely wet. I brought my arm up to my nose; she had wiped her juices on me on her way by.

I took a deep breath; that had to be the sexiest invitation I've ever received. I looked around the plane; nobody was looking at me, and the woman at the window was snoring lightly. I unbuckled my seatbelt, tried to conceal my arousal, and followed her to the back of the plane.

I saw Fiona slip into a lavatory and close the door. I walked up to it and saw it wasn't latched. I looked around. Nobody was in sight, so I pushed the door open and ducked inside.

Airplane bathrooms are usually cramped for me when it's just me in them. When I ducked into this one, Fiona was there sitting on the toilet cover and grinning. My crotch immediately was in front of her face, and she didn't' hesitate before yanking my sweatpants down and grabbing my cock. She looked up at me and again made sure I was watching her eyes as she slowly took me into her mouth.

My head started to spin. I closed my eyes and leaned against the door behind me. When I opened my eyes again she was still staring at me, swirling her tongue around my cock.

"Why are acting like this?" I asked.

"Why am I sucking your cock?" she asked mockingly, tilting her head to the side.

"Why wouldn't you talk to me all day?"

"Are you sure you want to spend our time talking right now?" she said, teasing me in in her low husky voice.

Fuck. That was a fair point. I shook my head and she grasped my shaft with both hands, twisting in opposite directions, rubbing her saliva all over it. She spit on my cock, then began sucking it furiously.

She was going to milk me dry any second if I let her. But I wasn't ready for that just yet. I grabbed both her arms and pulled her towards me. She was small enough to stand despite the curve of the plane, and I bent to kiss her. Our tongues tangled and I could feel her smiling.

She put her arms around my neck. I grabbed her ass with both my hands and she went to her tip toes. I hoisted her up and she was able to wrap her legs around my waist. Her skirt hiked up, and exposed her bare pussy. She wasn't wearing underwear, again. I was sensing a trend.

Actually I was sensing little more than her hot, wet lips pinned against my shaft at that moment. She pulled herself up, arms still around my neck. With one arm wrapped around her, I used the other to reach down and position my head right at her opening. She looked up at me and slowly, deliberately impaled herself on my cock. She was sopping wet; she enveloped me to the hilt, then took a deep breath. I pushed against the wall to steady myself, then I began to thrust.

There was almost no room in the lavatory, but we found a way to grind and wriggle into each other. It was exquisite; I wasn't previously a member of the mile high club, and Fiona's beautiful, wet pussy quivered as I stroked in and out of her as best I could. She tightened her legs around me and let go of my neck, leaning back into what little open space there was. I had to hold her just above her waist, my large hands gripping just below her ribs.

The readjustment clearly brought my cock in contact with one of her special spots; she began to shake, and started a long low moan that was quickly turning into a wail. She was cumming, and her orgasm sent shivers through her inner walls, pulling the cum out of me. With a full-throated groan, I let loose inside of her, filling her with my cum.

She reach backed up and pulled herself close to my body into a full hug. We stayed like that for some time, clasped together, her legs still wrapped around me, my cock still deep in her gushing pussy. Finally she kissed me again, then lifted herself off of me. She opened the lid of the toilet and sat, letting our juices drip out. Then she reached over to the sink and picked up her phone, which I hadn't noticed before.

"That will be a good one," she said, looking down and fiddling with the phone. "I can't wait to post that when we land."

I blinked. She had recorded us again.

"I ... " I began to say.

" ... need to go out first," she finished for me. She tucked my softening dick back into my sweatpants, reached behind me to unlock the door and slid it partially open. She gave me a shove and I stumbled back out into the plane. Thankfully nobody was there waiting.

I looked down the aisle towards the seats; nobody was looking back towards the bathrooms. I let out a relieved sigh, and reached down to adjust myself, feeling Fiona's moisture all over me. I brought my hand up to my nose and inhaled deeply, smelling her on me.

Then I heard a giggle.

I turned and saw two stewardesses looking me over from the small kitchen at the end of the plane. One, an attractive tan-skinned woman who looked vaguely Indian and about my age, was shaking her head at me sternly, but didn't appear to have the heart to actually scold me. The other, an older but rather statuesque blonde had her lips pursed and was wagging a finger at me. She mouthed "naughty boy" at me, and she gave me an amused look.

I winked at her, stood up straight, and walked back to my seat.

I can't explain where the hell I got the balls to react like that instead of blushing and stammering some excuse. My heart was pounding, and when I finally sat down I took a deep breath, gripped both armrests and closed my eyes. After a moment I opened them and looked to the window; the woman was still sound asleep.

A few moments later Fiona came back down the aisle and walked right past me without stopping or even looking my way.

This woman was unlike anything I had ever encountered.

My heart was still racing five or so minutes later when the tall blonde stewardess came down the aisle and stopped at my row. Without looking at me she bent over practically into my lap, and undid the tray on the back of the seat in front me. She put down a napkin and placed a plastic cup with a few ice cubes and some brown liquid inside that looked like - and was - whiskey.

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