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Author’s Note – Thank you all for your support of my first ever story last month. I hope you enjoy this story as well, as I look forward to improving my erotic writing skills in the future. – EAL
When I first got my job as a IT billing consultant, I couldn’t get enough of the travel. Even though the pay was OK and the job was nothing special, I LOVED to meet face-to-face with clients all around the country. Sure, some people hate it, but to me, there is just something about getting a taste of every little corner of America. It’s also true that for every trip to South Beach, there was a trip to nearly-as-exotic North Dakota; However, just seeing those parts of the country, made me feel like a part of something bigger. I could never really explain it, but the more I was away from home, the more alive I felt. Yes, it was rare enough being a young woman in a male-dominated industry, but I always tried to make the most of whatever situation I found myself in.
With all the travel came all the many travel experiences…most of which of course were extremely negative. I would need an extra set of arms to count all the times I had been stranded in O’Hare, just as I would be a billionaire if I had a nickel for every time I got bumped from a midnight flight. However, I’ve never once allowed myself to complain about ANY of those awful, yet typical experiences. Every time I’m seated next to crying baby or stuck on the tarmac for hours with the toilet overflowing, I simply take a deep breath and smile.
Because after what happened to me exactly almost years ago today, I’ve never allowed myself to complain.
Not even once.
Why? The answer is as simple as the seat number:
It started off like so many other flights. I was traveling from St. Louis to meet with some clients in Los Angeles to talk about a new telecom network that my company had sold them. I was only supposed to be gone for a couple days, but the thought of hanging out on the beach and shopping at Fashion Island had me looking forward to this trip a little more than most. Like most flights, United flight 532 was delayed, and like everyone else, I was none too happy about it. Normally, a slew of frequent flier miles would have saved me from the cattle-call nature of the boarding area, but a billing dispute left me amongst the masses on this particular night. Unfortunately, free drinks and a comfy couch for my aching feet would have to wait for another time.
By the time they called for boarding, the plane was delayed almost 90 minutes. (This meant I wouldn’t be getting into LA until well after midnight, Pacific time). With my body clock on Eastern time, and a client meeting early the next morning, my anger and frustration started to get the best of me. Regardless, I understand that these things happen, and quietly trudged to my window seat in the 14th row.
As in most nightmare travel scenarios, bad turned to worse very quickly. A newborn and her mother took to their seats directly in front of me. A man who smelled of stale vodka and cigarettes plopped down in our row’s isle seat, as I quietly began to pray that the middle seat between us would stay unoccupied. To make things even more awful, the flight attendant announced that the plane’s air conditioning system was having trouble, and that this flight would likely be “well warmer” than normal. As always, they apologized for the inconvenience.
The final blow in my evening happened approximately 2 minutes before the doors were to close. Through the doorway, a tall and busty blonde woman wearing more jewelry than anyone I’d ever seen in my life, entered the cabin. She was likely in her early 30’s and wearing an extremely expensive white dress and matching (fabulous) shoes. Her hair was long, curly and gorgeous; her handbag was as extraordinary as anything I’d ever seen from Gucci. Sunglasses were pushed up into her hair, while her diamond earrings nearly blinded everyone on the plane. None of this would have bothered me at all, had she not been talking on her cell phone at top volume.
“Please God, let her walk by us”, I whispered to myself while she slowly strutted toward me down the aisle. “I don’t care how gorgeous she is or how fab her handbag is, on a night like this, I’d chop my right arm off for this empty seat, and I’m perfectly willing to do so for just this small heavenly favor. Amen.”
Right on cue, she stopped just to my left, and loudly ordered the man on our isle to “Move over!” … between sentences of her boisterous conversation of course. Stepping on my toes, and jabbing her knees into my thigh, the woman slung her carry-on into the nearly full overhead bin, and plopped down into her seat with the force of a safe dropped from a 10th floor window. I got to enjoy the last few moments prior to takeoff listening to her loudly complain about her housekeeper in what sounded like at least three different languages.
Three plus hours next to these güvenilir bahis people?
All I wanted to do was get to LA, find a cab and get to my hotel. Was that so terrible? Sleep looked like a good option, right?
I was unfortunately cursed with the inability to sleep on planes/cars/buses for as long as I could remember. With three hours of hell to go and the battery on my phone was about to die, I realized the book I was reading was likely resting comfortably at the salad shop near gate 36. Yes, the flight from hell was in full swing.
35 minutes and 83 degrees later, we were finally on our way to California. After cracking open the latest Sky Mall catalog, the lights in the cabin dimmed, and the chaos of my surroundings finally began to fade. The infant in front of me had miraculously fallen asleep, and the smelly man on the aisle decided that he was better off standing near the rear galley area, (flirting with the flight attendants) than to sit with us. Unfortunately, Miss Gucci was still propped up next to me, still annoying me with her elbow jabs and overabundance of perfume. Eventually, I started to focus reviews of chrome plated cat bowls, and less on my incredibly awful night.
Exactly two hours into the flight, I decided to put the magazine down, and stretch. Well, not stretch exactly. Being wedged into a coach airline seat gives one the freedom to leisurely push their toes upward, and if you’re lucky… roll your neck muscles back and forth slightly. Other than that, I was still stuck within the not-so-cozy confines of my tiny personal space.
What I didn’t notice was that Miss Gucci had fallen asleep. As I turned my head slightly, and peered to my left, I finally got a good look at this beautiful, but extremely annoying seatmate. Her lips were ruby red in a shade I had never seen before. Her eyelashes were long and perfect, and her skin was glowing, if not angelic. Bleach blonde curls fell over the plunging neckline of her dress, moving ever so slightly with each sleeping breath. Take away the attitude, the cell phone and the obnoxious demeanor, and she was actually quite stunning.
Suddenly her lips started to move, ever so slightly.
I couldn’t make out what she was saying over the dull roar of the cruising jet engines, but it almost looked like she was mouthing the words, “Oh fuck yes”.
“No way” I thought. “Who the hell has naughty dreams in an environment like this? Who COULD have naughty dreams in an environment like this?” She had to be saying something else. So quietly, I leaned in closer to try and see if I could make out what she was saying, her eyes remaining completely closed.
Again, she mouthed the words, but this time followed it with a soft, but barely audible moan.
In all my years of air travel, I have sat next to the widest variety of people. I’ve sat next to everyone from Catholic bishops to B-list celebrities to the mayor of Fremont, Nebraska. I’ve been situated next to chatterboxes, weirdos, lunatics and beautiful souls. Through all the trips and all the flights, I was 100% sure this was the first time I ever sat next to someone who was getting off in their sleep inches away from me. As she continued mouth various words, I thought of my fiance, who would likely have given anything to be lucky enough to sit in such close proximity to a slumbering and beautiful nymphomaniac.
Completely trapped against the window, I decided to make the most of it, and simply chuckle at the situation. What else could I do? That was easier said than done of course, when the slumbering woman started to re-situate her body, and place her head directly on my left shoulder. My first instinct was give her a swift shove, and send her back to the other side of her seat (you know, the one with the EMPTY seat next to it?), but always one to be entertained, I situated my neck in a way that allowed me to turn my head and watch her from point blank range.
The woman’s restlessness continued to pick up as she became more and more fidgety. She lightly licked her own lips and bit her tongue as her hands began to glide along her stockings from under her flowing white dress. Her breathing began to quicken a bit, as her hands silently continued run up the sides of her seated legs, up her stomach and onward to the base of her breasts. I sat captivated, continuing to watch her twitch silently, and wonder to myself just what was filling her head that would cause her to subconsciously lose control.
The sight of a woman in sexual arousal had never really crossed my mind. I had kissed a couple of girls in college, but that was usually for free drinks. (Actually, it was always for free drinks) My fiancé Mark, had joked about bringing another woman to bed with us once; However, I figured that was simply his fantasy, and never gave the sexuality of women a second thought.
Regardless, something was different about this lady. It wasn’t just her diva-like aura, but the fact that this was literally in my face, türkçe bahis showing me raw emotion and desire from just inches away. Despite my best efforts to ignore the one-woman-show to my left, I couldn’t help but be turned on a little bit by her ability to radiate sexuality in such an awful and crowded situation.
By now, her hand was full on grabbing my arm, slowly caressing from my wrist to my elbow, as her right hand lowered into her lap. The soft moans and coos that came from her lips continued, if anything, even louder than before. Just as I started to feel a bit into it myself, the absurdity of the situation entered my mind. Here I am, flying on this dreadful and elongated flight, sitting next to a woman who is not only invading my personal space, but engaging in a highly inappropriate act in front of hundreds of strangers in the closest of proximity. With my better judgement taking control, I extended over my head and hit the flight attendant button.
It was fun, but it was time to put a stop to this.
As I reached upward, pressing the cold hard plastic, sleeping beauty slowly hiked up her dress to mid-thigh. Although her contorted and twisted posture gave me an up close and personal look at her face, it was difficult for me to see exactly what was going on with her right hand below my line of sight.
All of a sudden, a strange emotion popped into my head: I started to feel guilty.
“This poor woman” I thought. “She can’t help it she’s having a sexy dream. And here I am, calling over the flight attendant to complain, and most likely embarrass the hell out of her. She may be annoying and bitchy, but she didn’t deserve to have her personal subconscious fantasy outed in front of 150 total strangers.”
As the light over my head continued to glow, it became clear to me what she was doing with her right hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her wrist starting rotate in a rhythmic motion, her hips moving upward to gain better access. The soft moans continued to escape from her lips, as her opposite hand clutched and caressed my left arm, now suddenly filled with goosebumps.
“Oh God, fuck yes” she whispered, louder than ever and to nobody in particular.
I learned forward a bit and caught a glance below the arm rest. Her white panties had been pulled aside, as two fingers entered inside her. Her wrist continued to rotated in a counter-clockwise direction, as I could distinctly see the shining slickness of her juices.
This turned me on like never before.
Her fingernails, lightly dug into my skin, and she continued to fuck herself with her fingers less than a foot away from me. My goosebumps continued, and I could feel the wetness starting to build further between my own legs. The sensation of being turned on, in such an unsexy place, had such a surreal and unusual feeling to it. Obviously it was very difficult for anybody to see us, but just the pure number of people in our immediate proximity was alarming.
The blonde woman’s chest started to rise and fall as her breathing escalated. By crooking my neck to the left, I could glance down at the inches of cleavage that were moving upward and then away from me with each rising breath. Her moans were more audible now, as I could see the flash of her rotating fingers out of the corner of my eye. Looking downward, I leaned forward for a better look; My eyes followed her hand up her bare leg, to her seatbelt and along her torso. I took in all of her curves at close distance, as my eyes made their way to her face, well into the throngs of self-arousal.
I couldn’t help but notice her gorgeous eyelashes and perfect makeup job. Leaning in to get an even better look, my arm twitched, while her palms continued to slide across my smooth, tanned skin. My face was now just inches from hers.
And then…her eyes opened.
Panic, fear and self-disgust flushed over me. Too embarrassed to move a muscle, our eyes locked and my heart felt as if it had stopped beating. I quickly realized what it must feel like for a guy to get caught starting at the breasts of a busty coworker, only in this case…I was caught with my face 6 inches from hers. It was humiliating and shameful, with nobody to blame but my own boredom and curiosity.
What seemed like hours went by as we stared into each other’s eyes. It almost had the feeling of an old western movie during a gunfight, where the camera zoomed in to the eyes of each gunslinger, too afraid to flinch, each awaiting the other’s sudden move.
To my surprise, she blinked first, then smiled…quietly and slowly closing her eyes once again.
Now in a faux state of sleep, her left hand lifted my arm upward, as she resituated her head on my shoulder. Remaining still, her hand bypassed my arm, and fell to my lap. A shot of arousal blasted through my body, as I realized how I was trapped in the situation. Her other hand continued to work between her own legs, as the perfectly manicured fingertips of her opposite hand slowly crept down güvenilir bahis siteleri my hip, and onto the hem of my charcoal skirt. Smoothly, and without missing a beat, three fingers separated the fabric from my inner thigh, and ever so slowly, lifted it upward toward my waist.
I could feel my juices building and the goosebumps on my arms were now visible from across the plane. My right arm clutched the arm-rest on the other side of the seat, while my left arm remained helplessly pinned underneath hers. Her palm that was running cross my arm earlier was now sliding upward, finally reaching the confluence of my thighs.
Her gorgeous face still lay expressionless, while her fingers made their way to the side of my silk panties. My heart began to thunder so loudly, I was all but certain that my fellow passengers could hear it. Hell, the people on the ground could probably hear it. Taking a deep breath, I could feel her fingers softly move the fabric to the side and pull forward between my soaking wet lips. Within seconds, I had wiggled my butt just enough to give her better access at that angle. Suddenly, I felt the warm stiffness of one finger enter my pussy…then two.
Her fingertips curled upward toward my G-spot, as I started to lose all ability to think clearly. The sheer terror of getting caught was only slightly under the surface of what was without a doubt, the most incredibly erotic moment of my life.
I rotated my left shoulder a bit, allowing my previously trapped left arm to feely fall into her lap. Her perfume that was previously so annoying was now intoxicating, as her fingers swirled between my legs. I then felt her right hand grab mine, and slowly lower it between her thighs, all without a word or single hint of expression. Within seconds, our fingers were inside each other, as the dull roar of the engines continued.
Her technique and ability to hit just the right spot from that angle was nothing short of amazing. Looking down, I could only see her arm disappear at the mid-forearm level, as the rest was invisible under the fabric of my skirt. I could feel the wet slickness of my juices lubricating her fingers; the pure rhythm and rotation hitting my favorite spots perfectly. As a bonus, the angle of her wrist allowed the lower portion of her hand to rub against my throbbing clit. Starting to slip into euphoria, I tilted my head back to catch my breath, casually noticing the glowing button over my head.
OH SHIT THE CALL BUTTON!
Terror filled my soul, as I quickly removed my finger from her pussy, leaving a trail of wetness across her inner thigh;. Completely trapped and in fear of the pending visit to our seats, I tried to get my seatmates’ attention by coughing lightly.
That didn’t work.
I then started to wiggle my hips erratically.
That didn’t work.
Pulling my ass backward, I even tried to pull away from her probing fingers, but her hand positioning allowed her to stay locked inside me, no matter which way I moved. I could feel myself starting to hyperventilate, knowing that humiliation and embarrassment could be just seconds away. Staring toward the front of the plane, my eyes craned for a flight attendant that luckily wasn’t there…yet.
Suddenly a tap on my shoulder from behind. “Miss, is everything OK?”
A small squeal escaped my lips, causing me to nearly jump through my skin. My brain, so flustered with emotions of the past 10 minutes, was unable to answer even the easiest of questions.
“Am I OK?” I shot back.
The flight attendant looked at me a bit puzzled. “Yes. Is everything OK here? You pressed the call button?”
My brain was in full scale scramble mode as I desperately searched for a reply. Each and every possible answer was quickly brushed away with the sensation of the blonde woman’s finger, continuing to swirl inside my pussy, underneath the hidden darkness of my skirt.
“Yes mam, you did. Can I get you anything?”
Another question I was unable to process. Chills continued to rush up and down my legs as the blonde’s wrist pressed a bit harder against my clit; Her fingers throbbing inside me.
“Ummmmm. No. No, I’m good, thank you”
The flight attendant again looked at me funny, hesitated, and walked back to her seat near the rear of the plane.
Within seconds of her departure, the “sleeping” woman’s free hand grabbed my wrist again, and dropped it in her lap. Still shaking in fear, I fumbled under her dress, searching in vain for the edge of her underwear that had been so easy to find before. After what seemed like an hour of looking, her hand led mine to the wetness between her legs. With the outstretching of my middle finger, I once again, plunged it between her lips.
The next ten minutes were a blur, as I slowly became one with the moment. With the annoying facets of my flight drifting away, my mind slowly starting to focus on the slender set of fingers working inside of me. My wetness continued to build, as her rotations and pressure quickened. My pulse raced while I tried harder and harder to avoid giving ourselves away. I closed my eyes and started to clinch my teeth as waves of pent up passion and frustration began to build inside of me.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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