It's been more than three years and to this day I'll never know what came over me on that red-eye flight back to Baltimore. I've never done anything like it before or since. I'm not that kind of woman (or at least I didn't think I was). Sometimes it seems like I just dreamed it.
But I can't forget the exhilarating, sweeping sense of power and erotic ecstasy it gave me handling that handsome stranger's huge cock -- and the dirty fun of sharing him with the flight attendant. My God! I'm cringing and blushing just writing this. It's both the most shameful and most thrilling experience I ever had.
What made me do it? Who knows? Maybe it was the fact that my husband Bill and I had been bickering during that whole week-long vacation to Seattle. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway. I had looked forward to lots of long nights of hot sex. But instead, we fought the whole time. By the time we were ready to board the midnight flight I was feeling two very dangerous emotions: extreme sexual frustration and the angry urge to get back at Bill somehow.
We were both sulking by the time the flight was called, standing away from each other. I was about seven people behind him in the very short boarding line. I could see it was going to be a pretty empty flight. There were only about 20 of us on a plane that held more than 100 people.
I'm not sure what made me drop my purse. I guess part of it was simple sleep-deprived clumsiness. I was not only angry and frustrated that night, I was also tired. The past few nights had been spent in those bitter, exhausting arguments that go nowhere. So I was in a bit of a fog as I watched my husband board ahead of me. I reached in my purse to get my boarding pass and it slid off my shoulder and fell to the floor, some of its contents spilling out. I started to bend down to pick it up. But before I got the chance, I felt a reassuring hand on my shoulder gently compelling me to remain upright.
Out of nowhere, a powerfully built man in a sleeveless T shirt and ragged gray sweat pants had stepped up from behind me in line and was kneeling before me, picking up my lipstick, my compact, my keys and my wallet; placing them back in my purse.
I hadn't noticed him before and still couldn't see his face. But it was pretty clear he worked out regularly. Under his backpack, his back and shoulders were broad, and his arms were well toned. Not an ounce of fat on him. His body was firm and fit without that gym-rat, overkill, body-builder muscularity. I remember thinking, albeit subconsciously, "Hmm, where was this guy when I was single?" It was just innocent musing; a vague fantasy -- I thought.
But when he'd refilled my purse and rose to hand it to me, I felt something overwhelming happen. It was something I hadn't felt in years -- with Bill or anyone else: Instant, full-out arousal. He had an incredibly gentle, yet masculine face; clear blue eyes, bright teeth. But it was more than just good looks. It was his smile that got me. He was flashing me a broad grin brimming with overconfident sexual innuendo. No. More than "innuendo," more than "overconfident." That smile can only be described as arrogant. I think that's what lit me up: The disarming boldness of it. He was standing less than two feet away, smiling at me as though . . . (How can I put this?) . . . as though he owned me, as though he were claiming me with his eyes. He looked deep into me and held the look for a length of time that should have felt rude. But instead of feeling violated and angry, I was suddenly on fire. I could actually feel my face flush, my pussy dampen and my nipples harden. And just as I became aware of the last-named sensation, I saw him drop his eyes to my tits and nod approvingly, his smile becoming even broader.
"Uh...Th -- thank you," I said, taking the purse from him. My hands were actually trembling. I found it hard to catch my breath. Jesus, I thought, what the fuck is this?
After what seemed like an eternity, he "released" me. (Yes that's what it felt like, as if he were releasing me from his spell.) He shifted his backpack and moved farther back in the line where he'd presumably come from.
I recovered somewhat, presented my boarding pass and started moving down the gangway. By the time I reached the entrance to the plane, I had almost put it behind me. My mind returned to my anger at my husband. Our boarding passes said Row 17 B and C. And as I moved in, I noticed Bill was sitting in his assigned seat (the middle one). But I decided to be spiteful and moved all the way back to Row 22 -- the last row. I took the window seat, sat back and closed my eyes a moment feeling that "guess-I-showed-you" sense of victory. I was almost asleep when I heard a woman's voice asking, "Can I get you a pillow and blanket?"
I opened my eyes to see a lovely playful-looking blond flight attendant smiling at me. "Yes," I said. "That would be nice."
"All by yourself?" she asked.
For some baffling reason, I answered truthfully. "I'm flying with my husband," I said, "but we're having some marital problems. I'd rather sit by myself if it's okay. He's up there in Row 17. If this seat is assigned, I'll move somewhere else. Is that cool?"
The attendant, whose name tag identified her as "Leah," gave me a conspiratorial smile and said, "Sure, no problem." Then she handed me the blanket and pillow and added. "I've been there, done that. Sometimes we have to teach our guys how we need to be treated. You give him this nice long six-hour flight to wonder and long for you and he'll be eating out of your hand by the time you get to Baltimore." She turned her eyes toward the front of the plane and her smile broadened, "Wow, looks like you may have some nice diverting company tonight."
I looked where she was looking and felt my heart start pounding. There was the sexy stranger who had picked up my purse and set me momentarily on fire, making his way toward the back of the plane.
"Mmm," Leah said. "What a hunk! Now that's a 'man vacation' I wouldn't mind taking."
"A what?" I asked.
"Oh it's just an expression, something that has helped me stay married for six years. Every now and then I have to take a little break from the every-day and enjoy some... well let's call it 'new scenery'. I love my husband, but a gal has to 'get away' now and then to keep her sanity. Don't you think?"
I'm not sure what I would have said, but before I could answer, Leah had stepped back, ceding room to the man who had stopped at the aisle seat in my row.
And as he hoisted his backpack up to the luggage compartment, I noticed something stunning, something that took my breath away and gave me an even stronger wave of gooseflesh than I'd felt back in the line: As he stretched his arms up and stood on his toes to tuck the backpack into the overhead, the front of his sweatpants tightened against him. And there, pushing against that stretchy gray wool was a bulge so big as to seem not even real. That couldn't be all him, I thought. Not only was it huge, it was rock hard and pressing relentlessly against the crotch of those sweatpants. My heavens, I thought, I could hang my entire wardrobe on that thing if I could find big enough hanger handles.
It was so fascinating I couldn't stop looking and to my utter mortification, he caught me staring! Again he smiled at me as though he owned me. I turned my red face to the window, trying not to hyperventilate and he sat down right beside me -- not in the aisle seat, but in the middle seat.
He didn't actually touch me but I could feel his nearness on the nerves of my skin. My flesh felt hot, and again I could sense a hardness in my nipples and dampness in my pussy.
I kept turned away hoping I would calm down as a disembodied voice through the speakers went through the emergency procedures.
And then, mercifully, we were airborne.
I continued to fake sleep until I heard the sound of slow, heavy breathing beside me. Finally, I worked up the nerve to look over and saw that his eyes were closed. His head was tilted back in the seat and he appeared to be sleeping. His face was calm and peaceful, just as attractive as I remembered from moments ago. The muscles of his arms, chest and stomach were still smooth and tight, even in the relaxed state of sleep.
At last, I summoned the courage to look again at the bulge in his lap and sure enough, I hadn't hallucinated it. It was even more obvious as he sat snoozing, legs apart pelvis hunched forward. It was enormous, standing up strong and hard, making a pronounced "tent" in the crotch of his sweatpants. And this time, because the seat bottom was taking up some of the slack in the fabric of his sweats, I could see the clear impression of the fullness of his balls. They looked so wonderfully "bounce-able." I started wondering (only absentmindedly of course) if it would wake him up if I were to reach down and feel them, ever-so-briefly, in the palm of my hand.
There was no one in the set of seats in front of me or the ones across the aisle. The closest passenger to me was an elderly man in the window seat two rows ahead and across the aisle. So I was virtually alone with this compelling stranger. My heart was pounding harder by the minute. I had never been unfaithful to Bill, even in our rockiest times. I'd always thought of myself as monogamous. So I was at once scared and titillated by the realization that this man -- this total stranger (even sound asleep) -- was filling me with off-the-charts excitement. Had these longings been building inside me without my realizing it? Or did his nearness just create them all of a sudden? Either way, there was no denying that I was feeling like a very naughty girl.
My reverie was broken as I became aware of Leah coming down the aisle from the back with a drink cart. "How are you doing?" she whispered, grinning at me. This time I could see more of the wild beauty in her face. She was pretty obviously a fun-lover and far more at home with her naughtiness than I was with mine. "You want a cocktail?"
"No thanks," I said wrapping the blanket around me. I didn't want to risk taking a drink in the strange mood I was in. I was already feeling a wild craziness building in me.
Leah looked at the face of the man beside me. "I guess I'll let him sleep he's out like a light and . . ." And I saw her eyes fall to the amazing prominence between his legs. "Oh My Gracious!" she whispered, her eyes widening with undisguised delight. "Can you believe that?"
I blushed a little, embarrassed. But it would have been phony to pretend I was immune and indifferent to what was so clearly intriguing both of us. "It's amazing, isn't it?" I whispered.
"Do you think it's really all him?" she asked? "Or did he get past security carrying a doorknob attached to the handle of a sledgehammer?" We both giggled, as quietly as we could so as not to wake him. "Oh man," Leah said, "Wouldn't you love to take it out and play with it?"
I pretended to be shocked. "Of course not," I lied. "I'm a married woman."
"Oh come on," Leah whispered. "This qualifies as a special circumstance. I mean husbands are wonderful. But sometimes the laws of nature take precedence over marriage vows. He obviously likes you. He came back here and sat right down in the seat beside you. I'm assigning you to be the researcher here. You know we're both dying to see it and handle it. And since you're the one he likes, you have to be the one to do it." She smiled and her eyes were lit like a little girl's, amazed and curious and shamelessly honest. Right then and there, I decided I trusted her. We were partners in crime. Two married women whose husbands were, for the time being, the last things on our minds.
"You're crazy," I said. "I don't do that sort of thing. Besides, even if he wanted to . . . umm. 'get into something,' with me, people come down this aisle to get to the restrooms."
Leah laughed again. "You're such a naïve innocent," she said. "That's why the airlines provide blankets. You can use it to cover him up. Do I have to tell you everything?"
I shook my head, "Oh I can't believe I even brought up the subject of logistics. I'm a married woman I can't even let my mind work this way."
Leah made a face at me and stuck out her tongue. "Spoil sport!" she said, and after taking one last longing look at the imprint of his big dick, she started to push the cart farther down the aisle. But then she stopped again and turned back. "Okay," she whispered, "But here's the deal: If you DO allow yourself to give in to temptation, you have to make him show it to me, okay? I mean I'll cover for you, but you have to include me in the action, okay?"
"I'm not going to..." I started.
"Yeah, yeah," she said. "But if you DO, promise me you'll let me see it and maybe play with it a little with you. I'm burning up with curiosity."
"Okay, okay," I laughed quietly. "I promise. Now get away and let me sleep." I said it just to get her off my back.
When she left, my heart began to slow down a little. I turned my face back to the window and thought it through logically. I had punished Bill by sitting back here away from him. He would want me like crazy by the time we arrived in Baltimore. We would make up later and we would have some good, fiery reconciliation sex. I would fantasize about this stud as Bill fucked me and it would be out of my system.
I smiled to myself as I drifted off to sleep, thinking that was the end of it.
- - - - - - - - -
I don't know how much time went by. I was in a deep sleep, still turned on my left side and facing the window, when I felt something. I began to stir a little and realized someone was stroking me, moving his hand smooth and slow from my right shoulder, down my right arm, over my belly and down to the inside of my right thigh. A little alarm was going off in me telling me I should be outraged, that I should put an immediate stop to it. But I was still half asleep and it felt so-oo good. It felt like just what I needed. Somehow, I was powerless to move.
Then I could feel his warm breath on the side of my face as he moved his hand in wider circles and kept it more focused on my inner thigh. Again, I knew I should sit up abruptly and say, "Hey cool, it buster, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!" But he was touching me with such overwhelming confidence. I just couldn't will myself to stir from the state of sleepy eroticism that was pouring through me and warming me. "Wha -- What are you doing?" I murmured. It came out more like a sigh.
"Shhh," he said, and he began kissing the side of my face, tenderly but with real authority. There's a certain spot, under my ear where my jaw meets my neck. I call it my "secret spot." I love when Bill kisses me there. Nothing gets me more aroused. But he hadn't bothered to kiss me there in a long time. How did this total stranger know I liked it?
"What are you doing?" I asked again, but with even less conviction than the first time.
"Shhh," he repeated and he turned me toward him. When my face was just inches from his, he smiled, stroked my face and kissed me full on the mouth. It felt heavenly. His breath was fresh and sweet. I wondered about mine but he set me at ease by saying "Mmm, you kiss great." And he kissed me again.
I felt a rush of heat roll through me and I kissed him back, deep and passionately. I heard him sigh and moan a little. "Yeah, that's good," he said. "Hold still." And with that he moved away slightly, lifted the arm of the seat up and slid it into the slot and out of our way. He covered us both with the blanket and began kissing me again.
And again I kissed him back with all my might. I was tingling all over.
I was wearing a bulky sweater over a T shirt and no bra. He slid his hands underneath and began to rub my breasts, taking his time, spending long moments on one, then moving to the other. I have always felt a little self-conscious about my tits. They're small and I know Bill wishes they were bigger.
But this stranger was handling them so expertly and with such deep enjoyment, he made me feel proud of them. "Mmm," he said. "They're so pert and lovely. They feel so great in my hands. I've just gotta taste them." It was way more of a statement than a request.
I closed my eyes and shivered at his words. "Okay," I heard my own voice whisper softly. I felt so wild and nasty.
His head disappeared under the blanket and I felt him take my right breast into his mouth. He rolled his tongue around the nipple, then teasingly moved his mouth up to the area above the nipple, then below, then back to the nipple again. He moved to the left one and gave it little nibbling kisses that sent thrilling shockwaves all through my body.
He alternated between them, making me feel like a queen as I kept watch for people coming up the aisle.
I'm not sure exactly when he got my belt undone and slid my jeans and panties down (I was in another world). But at some point I realized they were around my ankles and he was sliding the side of his right index finger back and forth over my clit. My knees were wide apart and I was gushing.
It was a long time before he actually put his fingers inside me. It's hard to explain, but it was like he was being a "gentleman" if that makes any sense. I mean by this time I know he knew he had me. I was like warm Jell-O in his hands. But still he was extending something like "good manners" to me, waiting a nice long while before finger-fucking me.
When he finally did get to it, I was completely out of my mind. He put two fingers in and slid them in and out, each time making sure to come all the way up to stimulate my clit.
Several times, people came up the aisle to the restroom. When they did, we kept the blanket over us and pretended to be sound asleep. No one passing by could tell we were even touching, much less that he had his fingers deep in my sopping wet pussy.
When they went back to their seats, he resumed the finger-fucking, all the while kissing my neck and squeezing me, with passion but not too hard, with his left arm.
At one point, I couldn't resist anymore, the combination of sheer curiosity, intrigue and the powerful desire to please him overcame me and I reached down to his lap and put my hand on that humongous baseball bat of his straining against his sweatpants.
By this time I was so sex-drunk that I had no inhibitions left. I heard the words coming from my lips but couldn't believe it was me saying them. I was absolutely crazy. "Take these pants down," I moaned softly into his ear. "Let me get my hands on this big bare prick."
In the dim light, I could see him smile with pride. He was making me a crazy cock-craving whore and he loved it. He lifted his sexy ass up off the seat and undid the bow of the drawstring. Then he slid his sweatpants down to his ankles. He wasn't wearing underpants. (Somehow it was the perfect, nasty touch.) No one was nearby so we moved the blanket away and I finally feasted my eyes on that gigantic dick.
Whoa! I almost fainted at the sight of it. Not only was it the hugest cock I'd ever seen (a terrible understatement), it was also the hardest. I just sat there looking for a few minutes before I even touched it. It looked so beautiful! A crystal pearl of precum glistened on the tip. And his balls were amazing too. So powerful looking.
Finally, I couldn't resist any longer. I reached down with my left hand and started jacking him. At first I was a little intimidated and overwhelmed by the size of it. But soon, I was really going to town. I jacked him faster and faster, keeping my palm toward the top of his dick, just under the head, where I knew all the feeling was. "Yeah, yeah, perfect," he said. "Just like that."
Now and then I would tease him, slowing down and pretending I was going to stop jacking him. Of course it was all in fun (no way I had the willpower to stop now). But he didn't let me get away with it. "No, no, no, no. Don't stop!" he whispered. "If you slow down I'm going to take you over my lap right here in this seat and spank your ass so hard, people in first class will hear you crying!"