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From: Al Steiner <al_steiner@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP: Night Flight by Al Steiner (FM, mile-high)
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Feel free to archive, share, or do anything else with.  But please
leave intact the author’s name and the text of the story.


NIGHT FLIGHT
By Al Steiner
Send all comments to al_steiner@hotmail.com



I work for one of the country’s major auditing firms as an auditor.
Companies that are traded on the stock exchange require by law annual
audits of their books by a ‘so-called’ independent entity to make sure
no funny business is going on with the financial transactions or
inventories.  It’s a living and not a bad one for now, most young
accountants with their eyes on future six-figure incomes make their
starts doing what I do.  I make fifty-five thousand a year but I work
my ass off for it, sometimes putting in seventy hour weeks, rarely
putting in less than fifty.  It’s the rat race at it’s finest, I won’t
deny that, but this job does have a few perks to it, one of them being
that fact that I’m often required to fly to other cities to examine the
books in a client’s branch office.

About once every two months or so a team of usually two of us but
sometimes as many as six will board an airplane and fly off to some
other part of the country.  Our clients always put us up in one of the
finest hotels where we’re going, with private rooms, room service and
bar tabs, top of the line rental cars, and often as not, some sort of
entertainment package for our off-time as well.  I look forward to
these trips for several reasons.  For one, they get me out of the day
to day grind for awhile.  They also allow me to see other parts of the
country that I never would otherwise have bothered to visit (after all,
who in the hell would ever go to Indianapolis unless they were sent
there?).  And since I’m single, it’s nice to sample the nightlife of a
strange town.  Usually, with a little effort, I manage to get myself
laid while on these trips and let me tell you, it’s nice to have a
brief sexual encounter with a woman that you’ll never see again once
you return home.

A few weeks ago one of these trips popped up unexpectedly.  Usually we
know about them a few months in advance but this time one of our
pharmaceutical company clients needed a quick audit for a pending
merger.  We completed the in-town work in two days but needed to fly to
St. Louis to complete the rest.  Right away this trip was shaping up to
be somewhat of a bummer for me.  For one I’d been to St. Louis before
and (no offense to those who live there) it was not one of my favorite
cities to spend time in.  Also I was to be teamed with Mark Riley who
is perhaps my least favorite co-worker.  He is a crude, obnoxious
asshole with a host of disgusting habits.  I often wondered just how
he’d managed to get past our firm’s interview board for hiring, that
group of senior auditors and managers that were conservative enough to
consider Rush Limbaugh to be a flaming left-winger.

Another problem was the flight.  Our firm has friendly agreements with
several of the airlines and usually we’re given premium seats on
morning flights to wherever we’re going.  This time however, with the
short notice of the trip, all they were able to give us was a flight
that left the airport at 8:30 PM and arrived in St. Louis, thanks to
the time zone changes, at 2:25 AM.  This would not have been so bad
except for the fact that we were expected to show up promptly at 9:00
AM later that morning to begin work.  Oh well, the firm didn’t give a
rat’s ass if we were fatigued or not; as long as we got our work done
and told the clients what they wanted to hear.  Such is the life of a
junior auditor.

At 8:00 that night, Mark and I, having already checked our bags,
boarded the aircraft and went to our assigned seats.  We carried our
laptop computers in our hands and stored them in the overhead bins like
good sheep.  As other passengers found their seats around us I listened
to my partner making crude comments on what he would like to do with
every attractive woman (and more than one of the unattractive women)
that walked past us.  I ignored his words the best I could though I
could not ignore his body odor, which was drifting over me in waves.
Apparently Mark had thought it unnecessary to take a shower before
flying tonight.  I sighed, feeling a headache coming on and bracing
myself for an unpleasant flight.

A ray of hope appeared when they sealed up the plane.  I looked around
and noted that the aircraft was only about two-thirds full.  There were
empty seats everywhere.  Surely the flight crew wouldn’t mind if I
relocated myself once we were in the air.  I could sit blissfully
alone, breathe fresh air, have a few beers, and catch up on some work
that needed to be done on the computer.

“Ohhh God,” Mark muttered beside me as a stewardess picked up the
microphone in front of us to begin the pre-flight announcement.  “Would
you look at that bitch?  Man, I’d love to bend her over her coffee
maker and slam her until her ass bled.”

I ignored his comment, not even offering a grunt in reply but I
couldn’t help but agree that his basic assessment of the stewardess was
correct.  She was a shorthaired brunette with a very pretty face.  She
filled out her red uniform nicely.  Her waist was trim, her breasts
were alluring in their firmness, and her legs, clad in standard
pantyhose, were nicely shaped.  I’d always been a leg-man and nothing
got my motor running like a nice set of them clad in pantyhose and
peeking out beneath a skirt.  I looked at her face again, finding it
strangely familiar.  I had the impression I’d seen her somewhere before
though I couldn’t put my finger on just where.  Maybe on another
flight?  It was possible, I supposed, but that didn’t feel right.  Oh
well, it didn’t really matter, did it?

As she mechanically droned through the various safety features and
emergency measures, and as she pointed out the emergency exits, her
eyes passed over my face, continued on for a second, and then returned,
locking gazes with me.  She stared at me for a moment, seeming to study
my face.  A hint of a smile touched her mouth as she chattered.
Finally her eyes moved on.

“That cunt was starin’ at me!” Mark barked beside me.  “Did you see
that?  Shit on Jesus.  I might be addin’ me another entry into the mile-
high club tonight.”

I’d already gotten the run-down on Mark’s alleged sexual trysts onboard
previous aircraft.  Mark was one of those guys that had a pussy story
for every occasion, each more fabulous and unbelievable than the last.
He’d fucked on airplanes, in elevators, in the bedding department of
Macy’s, on a train, in a car, in a hot-air balloon, in his cubby at
work, at the dentist’s office.  He even claimed to have fucked on the
observation platform of the World Trade Center that last time he’d been
to New York.  I believed his tales about as much as I believed in Santa
Claus.

“Damn, she’s a hottie,” he said, shaking his head.  He turned to me.
“I ever tell you about the time I fucked this cunt AND her daughter at
the same time?”

While he droned on about his imaginary conquest, the stewardess wrapped
up her lecture and took her seat.  The plane taxied out to the runway
and shortly we were roaring into the sky, leaving Seattle behind us.  I
didn’t even look out the window at the view.  That would have involved
putting my head closer to Mark and his BO than was prudent.

The second the seat belt lights dinged off, I unbuckled myself and
stood up.  “Listen Mark,” I said, not bothering to sound sincere.  “I’m
gonna go find myself another seat so I can spread out and get some work
done.”

He nodded wisely.  “Good idea,” he said.  “I got some work to do too.”

His work, I knew, would be playing Tomb Raider II on his laptop but
that was not my concern.  I reached up, retrieved my laptop, and headed
down the aisle towards the rear of the plane.  Near the tail I struck
gold, an entire row of seats that were unoccupied.  I looked for
belongings that would indicate an occupant off at the bathroom and saw
nothing.  I planted myself at the window seat and unfolded the tray
before me, unzipping my computer case and beginning to set up.  Five
minutes later I was lost in a boring maze of financial figures and
inventory items.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” a pleasant female voice asked beside
me some time later.

I looked up and saw the stewardess that had given the pre-flight
announcement; the one that had looked familiar to me.  Up close I was
struck once again both by her attractiveness and her familiarity.
“Sure,” I answered, offering her a weary smile.  “I’ll take a Heineken.”

She reached into her cart and withdrew one of the green cans while I
reached for my money clip.  “Do you need a glass?”

“No,” I answered, knowing that the ‘glass’ would actually be a plastic
cup.  “The can is fine.  This isn’t exactly a social occasion.”

She smiled, looking into my face again as she named the price.  While I
dug out the proper amount I could sense that she was debating whether
or not to say something.  Finally, she asked, “I don’t suppose that
your name is Jeff Ratling?”

I blinked.  “As a matter of fact, it is,” I told her.  “Do we know each
other?”

Her smile widened.  “I THOUGHT it was you,” she said warmly.  “You went
to Jefferson High School in Bellevue, didn’t you?”

That rang a bell.  She was someone I’d gone to high school with.
“Yes,” I said, peering into her face to try to get a name to go with
the face.  Finally it came.  “You’re Christy….”  The last name wouldn’t
come.  It was something common, like Brown or Smith or White.

“Wilson,” she provided.  “You DO remember me.  Although it’s not Wilson
anymore, it’s Perkins.”

“Ahhh,” I said, fully remembering her now.  Back in high school she had
been one of the elite.  Yearbook committee, Future Republicans club,
Spirit squad, that sort of thing.  Though she hadn’t been prom queen
she had been a close friend with the girl who HAD been.  She had
naturally been in all of the college prep classes, as had I.  I
however, had not been one of the elite.  I’d been painfully shy back in
high school, not even going on an official date until after
graduation.  I’d watched her and her friends, the cream of high school
society, drift through those four years and had been jealous of them.
I’d gotten over it of course, as I had my shyness, and gone on with my
life.  Christy, I remembered, now that she’d provided me with a last
name, had dated another one of the elite named David Perkins, an
outgoing, personable soul that had been a baseball player.  He’d gotten
a scholarship to UCLA I remembered, a baseball scholarship.  I couldn’t
help but feel a strong surge of gloating at the fact that I was a semi-
successful accountant on my way up the ladder while a member of the
elite, who wouldn’t have given me the time of day back in school, was
working as a stewardess.  “You must’ve married David Perkins then.”

Her face soured a little.  “Yeah,” she nodded.  “I did.  It didn’t last
too long.  He played a year at UCLA and then got picked up by the
Dodgers farm team.  He hurt his knee the first year and wasn’t able to
play anymore.  Things went downhill from there.  We got divorced but I
haven’t bothered changing my name back.”

“No kidding?”  I asked, suppressing a smile as I cracked open my beer.
“What’s he doing these days?”

She shook her head sadly.  “He drives a garbage truck for the City of
Tacoma.”

“No shit?”  I couldn’t help but blurt, letting a laugh escape.  Mr. All-
American baseball was driving a garbage truck.  It was beautiful.

“Well,” she offered cynically.  “You know how it is?”

“I guess so,” I agreed, sipping my beer.  “How long have you worked for
the airline?”

“Since the divorce,” she told me.  “We had to move to Spokane before I
could finish college so I didn’t quite get my degree.”  She
brightened.  “I’m still working on it though.  Should have it by late
next year and then I can get out of here.”

“What’s your major?” I asked.

“Accounting,” she told me.  “I figure that’s a good way to get ahead
and I have a knack for numbers.  How about you?  What are you doing
these days?”

“Well,” I told her, “believe it or not, I’m an accountant.”

“Really?”

I nodded.  “An auditor.  I work for Brentman-Barry.  That’s why I’m on
the flight tonight.  We’re going to do the books for one of our clients
that has an office in St. Louis.”

“Wow,” she said.  “That’s amazing.  Listen, do you mind if I come back
and talk to you for a little after I finish my drink service?  I’d love
to get some advice from you since you’re in the same field I’m going
into.”

“Sure,” I said, happily.  She was, after all, an attractive woman and I
was always on the lookout for one of those.  Maybe something would
develop out of this.  “I’ll give you the whole run-down on the rough
and tumble world of corporate auditing.”

She smiled.  “Then it’s a date,” she said, moving off down the aisle
with her drink cart.

As she moved off I wondered if maybe this trip wouldn’t be such a
bummer after all.

She came back about twenty minutes later, sitting in the seat next to
me.  Her skirt rode upwards a little as she did this, revealing about
half of her thighs to me.  They were nice to visualize and I wondered
how they would feel.  She noticed me looking at her and smiled as I
reluctantly turned my gaze away.  Our conversation was innocent at
first.  I told her what the accounting business was like and gave her
some pointers on future employment.  She seemed interested in what I
had to say.  After about ten minutes, she stood up again.

“I’d better go do my rounds now,” she told me, easing back out into the
aisle.  “Give me a ring if you need anything.”  She paused, her gaze
drilling into me.  “You know how to push the right button don’t you?”

I chuckled, catching her flirtatious remark quite well.  “Oh yes,” I
assured her.  “I’m VERY adept at pushing the right button.  In fact,
I’ve been told that I push the button extremely well at times.”

“That’s good to know,” she told me, smiling.  With that she sauntered
off towards the front of the plane.  I watched her ass as she
retreated.  It was a nice one.

For the next ninety minutes or so we didn’t speak much.  I continued
with my work but found myself unable to concentrate on it so I
eventually packed up my laptop and stowed it away.  I alternated
between flipping through the in-flight magazine and staring out the
window towards the occasional passing lights of some city below.
Christy came by twice to get me new cans of beer, each time offering me
warm smiles and idle chitchat with an occasional flirtatious remark
thrown in.  I could tell she wanted me to ask her out; she’d made a
point of finding out that I lived in Seattle and telling me that she
did also.  I figured I probably would before the flight was over.
After all, I could fulfill two fantasies at once if I succeeded in
laying her; she had been the object of several jack-off fantasies back
in high school AND she was now a stewardess, which I often envisioned
boffing these days.  I wondered if I could get her to wear her
stewardess outfit if a relationship developed to that point?

My musings were interrupted by her return.  She gave me a knowing smile
as she sat, uninvited, in the seat next to me once again.  She looked
as if she knew exactly what I’d been thinking.  Hell, she probably
did.  We picked up our conversation.  She reminisced about the good old
days of high school fondly.  I nodded politely through this.  My
memories of this time period weren’t so fond.

“You were SO shy back in school,” she told me, scrunching down in the
seat a bit, which served to expose a little more of her thighs to my
interested gaze.  “What happened to you?  You seem so outgoing now.”

I shrugged, tearing my eyes away from her legs and looking into her
brown eyes.  “I don’t know.  Nothing dramatic.  I guess in college I
just figured out that girls weren’t the mysterious entities I used to
think they were.  Once I started dating regularly it was like a dam
broke, I was unstoppable.”  I chuckled.  “I guess I became something of
a slut.”

She laughed.  “A slut huh?  And what about now?”

“Oh, I’ve mellowed out some since then.  Not that I’m celibate or
anything.”

“I certainly HOPE not,” she answered, smiling saucily.

“So,” I said, after gathering my thoughts together in the wake of her
last statement.  “What’s your schedule like?  Do you stay over in St.
Louis?”

She giggled tiredly.  “Are you kidding?  Did you think this flight
stops in St. Louis?  We continue on to Chicago and then Boston.  I’ll
stay overnight in Boston and then work the return flight back to
Seattle.”

“Oh,” I said, nodding sadly.  She had just shot down my hopes of a
little tryst in good old St. Louis.  “Well, when’s your next free day
in Seattle?  Maybe we could, you know, get together and have a little
dinner or something.”

She beamed. “That would be nice,” she said.  “I get back to Seattle
Saturday night and have four days off after that.”

“Well how about Saturday then?” I offered.  “I’m USUALLY off on
weekends.”

“Well,” she answered doubtfully, “I’m usually a little tired when I get
back into town.  Sunday maybe?”

“Sunday it is,” I proclaimed.  “How about dinner at Winslow House?”
Winslow house was a romantic restaurant.  It was one of my favorite
places to take first dates.

“Oooh,” she said approvingly, “that sounds nice.  I’ve never been there
before.  Have you?”

“A long time ago,” I told her, which was true if you considered two
weeks before to be a long time ago.

We exchanged phone numbers and addresses, made some more idle chitchat
for another five minutes or so and then she left to do her rounds
again.  It was another half-hour before she came back.  By now, a good
portion of the passengers were either asleep or dozing.  The lights had
been turned down and I could hear several snores drifting through the
air around me.

“Ahhh,” she sighed, sinking into the seat.  “I like this part of the
flight.  Everyone’s asleep, I can finally sit down and relax.  You
wouldn’t believe how sore your feet get doing this for a living.”

“Wait’ll you sit at a desk all day,” I told her.  “Then it’ll be your
back that’s sore all the time.”  And you’ll get hemorrhoids too, I
could have added, but I thought it might break the mood to mention that
just then.  “Too bad you’re on duty.  I give a great foot massage.”

“Screw duty,” she said, kicking off her right shoe and planting her
foot in my lap, much to my surprise.  It landed about mid thigh.  “If
you can massage like you claim, let’s feel it.”

I regained my composure quickly and reached down to her foot.  I began
to rub and knead it firmly through the nylon that covered it, loosening
up the muscles and springing a semi-hard-on in the process.  I LOVED
the feel of female flesh encased in nylon.  Christy sighed as I did
this, keeping her eyes peeled down the aisle, probably watching for her
supervisor who, I imagined, would most likely frown upon what was
taking place.

“You have nice hands,” she sighed softly, relaxing more into the seat.

“Thank you,” I said, looking up the length of her leg.  Due to the
position that she was in, her legs were spread apart and I was able to
see all the way to the junction of her thighs.  I could see the white
panties she wore through the thin layer of nylon.  Though I wasn’t
seeing any bare flesh, I WAS seeing a forbidden view.  This made my
semi spring into a full-blown diamond cutter.

She licked her lips a little and then twisted slightly in her chair.
This brought the foot in my lap closer to my body so that it was
resting against the protrusion of my cock.

“Mmmm,” she said, gazing at me.  “I guess you really DO like to give
massages.  I do too.  Take your hands off and I’ll show you.”

Blushing, and more than a little bit aroused, I removed my hands and
dropped them to my sides.  She began moving her foot back and forth in
my crotch, gliding gently over my erection.  My breathing quickened as
her nylon clad foot whisked over me.  She slid her foot down a little
and began running her toes up and down.

“You like this kind of massage?” she asked seductively.

“Oh yeah,” I nodded, closing my eyes in rapture.

“Me too,” she said.  “I’m getting all wet just doing it.”  She looked
around the cabin for a moment, saw nobody paying undue attention to us,
and then hiked up her skirt to her waist.  She slid her left hand under
the top of her pantyhose.  I saw it disappear beneath her panties,
right into her crotch.  She rubbed up and down a few times, sighing as
she did so, and then withdrew it.  She leaned forward, putting her
fingers beneath my nose.

I could smell the scent of her on her fingers.  The musty, fresh odor
of an aroused pussy.  She slid the fingers between my lips and I sucked
on them, tasting her nectar.  It was tart and very pleasant.  My
arousal became frantic.  I began gliding my hands up and down the silky
smoothness of her legs.

Abruptly, she withdrew from me, making me groan my displeasure.  She
smiled, licking her lips again.  “You know,” she said quietly, “you’ve
been drinking beer.  Don’t you have to go to the bathroom?”

I didn’t actually.  I’d emptied my bladder about fifteen minutes
before.  But I wasn’t a fool either.  “Uh, yes,” I said, nodding.  “I
think I do.”

“Go to the one at the very back of the plane,” she told me.  “The left
one.  It’s the nicest bathroom on the whole plane.”  She winked,
standing up.  “It might say it’s occupied when you get there.  That’s a
little problem it has.  Knock first and maybe the door will open.”

I nodded, speechless, my motor really running now.  She headed off
towards the rear of the plane.

I gave her a minute and then stood up.  My jeans, I saw, were bulging
outward noticeably.  Embarrassed, I looked around at my fellow
passengers.  Most of them were asleep.  Those that weren’t were not
paying the least bit of attention to me.  I walked quickly towards the
tail until I came to the bathroom stalls of which she spoke.  The left
one had the “occupied” light illuminated.  I took a quick glance around
and then knocked softly on the door.

I heard the lock turn and then the door creaked slowly open about
halfway.  Since the light had gone out when the door lock had been
disengaged, I could only make out the silhouette of Christy inside.
Her hand reached out and grabbed my shirt, pulling me into the stall.
It was cramped in there, forcing us to stand chest to chest, not
exactly an unpleasant situation.  She shut the door and engaged the
lock again, turning on the lights.  She was smiling at me, staring into
my eyes.  She held up her left hand, which was holding her pantyhose
and panties.  She pushed the crotch of them up against my face,
overwhelming me with her scent.

“Do you see what you’ve done to me?” she whispered.  “You’ve gotten me
all wet.”  Her hand dropped to my crotch and unbuttoned my jeans.  Her
fingers snaked into my underwear, grasping me, making me groan.

I put my arms around her, pulling her to me, attaching my mouth to
hers.  Her tongue poked out, seeking mine and we kissed wetly,
obscenely.  While she continued to fondle me, I allowed my hands to
slide down her back to her ass.  I pulled up the back of her skirt and
placed my palms on her bare cheeks.  They were firm and warm.  I
kneaded them roughly.  She seemed to like this, her breathing quickened
and her fondling hand began to squeeze harder.

I pulled my crotch back a little, opening up some space between us and
then slid my left hand around to the front, gliding it over the soft
flesh of her outer and then inner thigh, finally coming to her pussy.
I dipped my fingers in, gasping as I felt bare flesh around her soaked
vaginal lips.  I began to finger-fuck her, putting first one and then
two fingers into her body.  Her pelvis thrust back at me as I did
this.  She unlocked her mouth from mine and then began sucking and
licking my neck, my ears.

She pulled her hand out of my underwear and then pushed my jeans and
underwear down, baring my cock.  She looked down at it, whistling
appreciatively, jacking it a few times before pushing me backwards and
dropping to her knees before me.  She sucked me into her mouth, her
hands coming up to grasp my ass cheeks.  I was forced to lean back
against the wall behind me to keep from falling down.  Christy was a
great cocksucker.  She bobbed up and down, taking my entire length into
her mouth, swirling her tongue around, sucking gently.  She took one
hand off of my ass and began to fondle my balls gently.  Her mouth made
raunchy slurping noises as she blew me and I could feel her drool
dribbling down my shaft.

She sucked me for another minute or so and then removed her mouth.  She
stood up, her face flushed with arousal, her chest heaving with her
respiration.  She backed up a step and then pulled herself to a sitting
position on the sink, opening her legs widely.  Her pussy was a work of
art.  She’d shaved all around the lips, leaving only a rectangular
strip of black pubic hair above.  Her lips were swollen and puffy,
inflamed, nearly dripping with her secretions.  Her clit was poking out
invitingly.  It was perhaps the most beautiful pussy I’d ever seen in
the flesh.

I couldn’t resist.  I grabbed her legs and buried my face between them,
plunging my tongue between her lips.  Her legs wrapped around my back
and she emitted an almost feline squeal when I gently took her clit in
my mouth and sucked it like it was a nipple.  Her pelvis thrusted
uncontrollably into my face.  Just as I was getting started, however, I
felt her hands in my armpits, pulling upward on me.

Reluctantly, I stood up, leaving her pussy behind.

“We don’t have that much time,” she panted.  “I need you to fuck me.
C’mon, put it in and fuck me.  Please?”

I began to move my cock forward and then stopped.  “What about,” I
asked, “you know, protection?”

“I’m on the pill,” she said.  “And I don’t have AIDS or anything.  I
promise.  And I trust you don’t either.”

I looked at her for a moment.  Part of me was saying that I barely knew
this woman and to have unprotected sex with her was madness in this day
and age.  How did I know she was REALLY on the pill?  How did I know
she REALLY didn’t have AIDS? Or gonorrhea?  Or syphilis?  Or crabs?
But that part of me apparently wasn’t looking at her engorged, inviting
pussy that was only inches away from my straining cock.  That part of
me lost the battle without even a fight.

I leaned forward and touched the head of my cock to her warm, wet
lips.  I grabbed her asscheeks while her legs wrapped around my waist.
I pulled her to me, sinking all the way to the hilt inside of her.  She
was tight, much tighter than I’d expected.  I sighed in ecstasy.  There
is absolutely nothing in the world that feels better than the first
plunge into a wet, tight pussy.  And when you’re doing it in a
forbidden place, like the bathroom of an airliner at 35,000 feet, with
sleeping passengers just outside the door, the sensation is tripled.

Our mouths locked together again as I began to thrust in and out of
her.  There was no slow build-up to this copulation, I began slamming
her immediately.  Our pubic bones mashed together as we thrust
frantically against each other.  I felt her flexing her vaginal muscles
rhythmically, squeezing my cock on each in-thrust.  In and out I moved,
picking up speed, sweat forming on my brow.  The rich smell of sex
filled the air around us along with the squelchy, squishing sound of
cock and pussy in union.

“Oh God,” she moaned, her thrusts increasing, her fingernails digging
into my back.  “Yes,” she cried softly, with restraint.  “You’re making
me come.  Keep it up.”

I redoubled my efforts, picking up the pace.  I could feel the tingle
of my own approaching orgasm and hoped she would be quick about having
hers.  She buried her face in the hollow of my shoulder, her body
tensing up, her vaginal muscles squeezing me almost painfully.  She
squealed against my skin as orgasm overtook her.

I was only moments behind her.  My own thrusts became erratic and out
of control.  I squeezed her ass cheeks together and felt waves of
pleasure shooting through my body.

“Yes,” she panted, kissing my neck again.  “Come in me.  Come in me.”

“Ohhhh,” I groaned, feeling the spasms start.  It was one of the most
powerful orgasms I’d ever experienced.  My cock began unloading shot
after shot of hot sperm into her gulping pussy.  It seemed to go on
forever but finally my thrusts slowed down and stopped.

We exchanged a warm tongue kiss as I withdrew myself from her, and then
we looked in each other’s eyes.

“That was absolutely incredible,” she told me breathlessly.

I nodded. “Yeah.”  Not very profound a statement, I know, but I was on
overload.

She swallowed nervously.  “I can’t believe we actually did that,” she
said in wonder.  “I hope nobody missed me.  You better get back to your
seat while I clean myself up.”

“Okay,” I said, reaching down to pull up my pants.

We exchanged a last kiss and then I unlocked the door, easing it open.
I expected to see a group of passengers and angry stewardesses
outside.  Maybe even one of the pilots.  Was it illegal to do what we
just did?  I wasn’t sure, but I was fairly certain that Christy had
violated an airline rule.  But there was nobody there.  I stepped out
into the aisle and the door shut behind me, the “occupied” light coming
back on.

I took a deep breath, wondering how I smelled, and then walked as
nonchalantly as possible back to my seat.  Nobody gave me so much as a
glance.

Christy walked by me about five minutes later.  Her pantyhose were back
in place and she looked perfectly normal to my eyes.  She shot me a
smile as she passed, but didn’t speak to me.  About ten minutes after
that, she came back, carrying a fresh can of beer in her hands.

“This one’s on me,” she said, handing it over and sitting down in the
seat.

“Thanks,” I said, cracking it open, though I knew it was a bad idea to
have a beer this late when I had to work tomorrow.  It would, however,
change the odor of my breath so I wasn’t breathing pussy smell on
everyone I talked to.

“Listen,” she said, seemingly embarrassed now.  “I know you probably
think I’m a slut.”

“Not at all,” I answered, though that is exactly what I was thinking,
and not in a bad way either.

“I’m not,” she continued.  “I really don’t do things like that.  When I
date someone I NEVER sleep with them on the first date.  I’m usually
very respectable.”

I nodded, keeping my mouth prudently shut.

“But you see,” she said, “what we just did has always been a fantasy of
mine.”  She giggled.  “Almost an obsession.  I’d never been able to do
it before though.  I didn’t want to just pick up a stranger on the
airplane and take him to the bathroom.  When I saw you on the plane
though, and when we started to hit it off a little.”  She shrugged.  “I
guess I just decided that this was a good opportunity.  I mean, we were
going to go out on a date, we seemed to like each other, and we
probably would have ended up sleeping together at some point in the
future, right?”

“I suppose we would have,” I nodded.

“So what’s wrong with just skipping all the slow build-up crap once in
a while and just getting right to what we both know is the main purpose
of a dating relationship anyway?”

She had me there.  “You make a good point,” I told her.  “I wish all
women thought that way.”

“So I hope you don’t think ill of me,” she concluded.

“Not at all.”

“And we can still go out on Sunday?”

“You bet.”

“Great.”  She smiled.  “I really do think we might hit it off.  You
know, in more than a sexual way.”

We didn’t talk much the rest of the flight.  I fell asleep shortly
after this conversation and didn’t wake up until we were descending
into St. Louis.  As I exited the plane she was standing at the door.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

“Oh, I did.”

Send all comments to al_steiner@hotmail.com

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