Writing

Taking Off (from November 2, 2012)

Tonight we were going to actually do it. We talked about it many times. You have always been a bit of an exhibitionist at heart. Sometimes, in the Mini, when we would stop at a light, you would wait for another vehicle to pull up next to us, then undo you pants or lift your skirt a bit and start playing with your pussy. We would wonder if the other driver suspected anything, as they watched your head roll back, your eyes close, and your mouth close with a little tight-lipped, elfish smile.

We talked about exploring this further. About fingering you under the table in a dark café, with, perhaps, the waitress or another patron watching us. Or, your favorite, where I fuck you, from behind, in the woods, while you lean against the trunk of a large tree, discovered through the binoculars of passing hikers, in the distance.

In bed, I would whisper the scenario into your ears, as I gently stroked your body, slowly bringing you to a shaking orgasm. About how we would fondle and finger and fuck under the blanket. How the stewardess would, discreetly, be watching us from the galley. How she might be fingering herself, as she watched. Sometimes I would describe us sneaking into the head to, not so quietly, fuck.

Then, when we flew, we began traveling with a small, soft, red blanket, planning to carry out our fantasy, only to be disappointed when the flight was crowded, or there were children seated around us, or we could not get the rear bulkhead seat.

Once, on a long coast-to-coast flight, I fondled you discreetly under the blanket, inflight, while whispering in your ear. This managed to get us excited enough that we almost couldn't wait to check into our room, where we later fucked for hours.

But tonight was different. The connecting flight was delayed. It was very late and only a few passengers waited in the terminal to board. We checked to make sure the red blanket was in the flight bag and handy and laughed every time we looked at it.

Boarding began and we were able to find a seat in the rear of the plane, on the right, just in front of the bulkhead. You sat by the window, and I on the aisle. The few other passengers sat in front, with one man a row ahead of us, on the left.

This was perfect, and we gave each other a devilish look, knowing that this was it. I watched as the flight attendant prepped for the flight. She was tall, blond, mid-forties, wearing a fitted tan skirt, black stockings, heels and a white blouse. The male passenger was young, perhaps twenty something, intently reading his book.

Soon the plane was backing away from the gate and slowly rolling down the tarmac. Since it was a late flight, the crew turned out the overhead lights, darkening the whole cabin, except for the dim light from the rear galley, where the flight attendant was stowing away the last of the gear.

As the plane bumped down the tarmac towards the landing strip, we watched the lights of the city going by, creating a strobe affect. I covered us with the warm blanket. Soon I was gently massaging your soft breasts under the blanket, occasionally pinching your nipples, evoking soft, sharp sighs.

I have often made the comparison, in my head, of our gentler lovemaking sessions, to many years ago, playing the cello. I would lie on your left side, with my right arm under the nape of your neck and caress the left side of your throat, or right arm, with my hand. As my left hand stroked your belly and pussy, I would listen to your melodious mews and cries, and think of playing wonderful music on a passionate instrument. I could control the notes, volume, tenor with different strokes and moves, until bringing you to a shuddering crescendo.

As the plane proceeded at a steady lop, I slowly reached under your now loosened waist band and began stroking the soft pubic hair, now swollen clit, and already wet labia with my finger. I redirected your one hand to your breast and the other to lie on top of my hand, directing it into your cunt.

You closed your eyes, started to moan and rock your hips. I whispered into your ears, "You must tell me when you are close and about to come". You giggled. Your sighs and moans were covered by the gentle whooshing of the engine, that creates that bubble of white noise.

I turned my head towards the aisle a few times to watch the passenger ahead of us still engrossed in his book and the flight attendant secure herself into her aisle seat just across from us and slightly further back against the opposite bulkhead.. She opened her magazine and started casually flipping through it. I described this to you, whispering, with my lips only millimeters from your ear.

"I think she is looking up at us once in a while, then quickly looks back at her magazine. I wonder if she knows what we are doing? I wonder if she is imagining herself joining us? Will she think of this in bed, later tonight, while stroking herself and cumming?"

As I continue to gently finger your clit and labia, several times your breath quickens and your hand tightens around mine. "I'm close. I'm going to cum" you say breathlessly into my ear. Each time I pull my hand away stopping your impending climax.

Soon the plane is turning onto the landing strip and stopping, momentarily, waiting to start the take-off. "Listen to the engine", I say in a loud whisper. "It will get louder as the engines pick up RPMs for take-off. You can be as loud as you want and no one will hear you… except, maybe the stewardess, who I am sure is now watching us out of the corner of her eye. Let loose when you cum, don't hold back".

The engine whine accelerates, and I push my fingers into your warm, wet cunt lips. You squeal and sigh and arch your back a bit, as your hand tightens around my wrist. As the plane moves faster and faster down the runway, I quicken the pace, pumping in and out of your warmth, keeping you just on the edge, and, just as the plane lifts off the ground and pushes us back into our seats, I thrust my hand, hard and deep, into you, and loudly whisper into your ear, "NOW,… CUM,… LET GO".

You arch your back and start to scream, "OHH, I'm CUMMMINNGG, UUNNNHHHH !!" as I loosely cover your mouth with my other hand to muffle the noise, and feel your warm pussy juices squirting against my palm. I watch your beautiful, grimacing face, contorted in pleasure, and watch the city lights fall behind us as we rise into the clouds.

Minutes later you relax against me, smiling a Cheshire cat grin, as I move the blanket back to our laps.

I turn, before we fall asleep, to see the passenger asleep and the flight attendant with the now closed magazine across her lap, and I imagine I see the slightest rose blush on her cheeks and neck.

This is a flight we will always remember.