The Chalupa Conundrum

by Lyle Christie

“Maybe, but I like to live in the moment.”

  “Oh well, I suppose a gentleman abides when a lady asks.”

  She reached down and steered my throbbing first class hard-on into her hot wet lady business, and I suddenly felt like a high school student trying to have sex during a dance, only we were doing it on the bleachers rather than behind them. I pressed in to the hilt, and we both let out a long, soft moan.

  “Sweet lord does this feel good,” I said.

  “Oh God yes!”

  I began moving in and out at a slow luxurious pace that allowed me to add a wee bit of clitoral grinding, and Tina wriggled about in excited ecstasy. Of course, seeing her writhing only increased my desire and, in turn, inspired me to increase my pace. Somehow, on this crowded plane, and beside a sleeping Todd, we had found a small slice of heaven, and we were soon pushing on to climax.

  “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” I said.

  “Me too! Let’s do this!” she said, breathlessly.

  I began moving faster and could already feel the light at the end of the tunnel, when, suddenly and without warning, the same female flight attendant, that had thought we were having sex in the lavatory, was standing in the aisle.

  “You two are insatiable!” she said.

  We both stopped and stared in pure embarrassment.

  “Oh my God! It’s not what it looks like. We were just…”

  “Having sex right here in plain sight. Believe me, I understand, but as much as it pains me to do this, I’m going to have to ask you to move back into your seat,” she said.

  “Oh for the love of God, please let us finish,” Tina said.

  “I’m sorry, but airline policy is very strict on the subject.”

  “OK, but do you mind—um—giving me a second.”

  “No problem,” she said, as she averted her eyes for a moment.

  I dismounted and dropped back into my seat and pulled my shirt down over a very hard and unhappy Tag Junior.

  “All clear,” I said.

  The flight attendant turned back around.

  “Again, I’m very sorry. Believe me, I have no problem with it. It’s just that if another passenger saw and complained, I could get into a lot of trouble and possibly even lose my job,” she said.

  “No problem. We understand,” I said, feeling like a scolded five year old.

  The woman left, and Tina and I sat there with our loins smoldering.

  “Well, what now?” Tina asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, it’s not fair that I’ve already had an orgasm, so perhaps I could finish you off with a blowjob.”

  “I like that idea, but it’s probably a little too conspicuous.”

  A wicked smile formed on Tina’s lips.

  “OK, then how about we finish each other off by hand—simultaneously—so we can still cum together.”

  “I believe I’m up for that.”

  She reached down and took hold of my penis and smiled.

  “I believe you are.”

  I looked around the quiet cabin then back to Tina and realized it was a novel idea and might just be subtle enough to remain under the flight attendant’s powerful radar. Tina began stroking Tag Junior, and I reached over and navigated my fingertips over to her clitoris, and only seconds passed before we were back to where we had been before the flight attendant’s rude intrusion. It was often hard to administer manual stimulation while receiving it, especially during the act of sixty-nine, as it was easy to lose yourself to the pleasure and inadvertently neglect your partner. At the moment, however, our extreme purpose of action was moving both of us quickly to the brink.

  “Kiss me!” she said.

  The minute our lips touched, her mouth opened, and her tongue shot forward to meet mine. I met it head on, and Tina give it the gentlest of nibbles, and we both abruptly climaxed and traveled on together through the fog of release until eventually emerging on the other side in the soft light of reality. Tina smiled and took a long deep breath then looked down at the mess I’d created.

  “Someone had some pent up sexual energy,” she said.

  “I hold a lot of angst in my balls.”

  “Apparently,” she said, as she reached into her purse and pulled out a small packet of wet wipes.

  In a matter of moments we had everything cleaned up, as the majority of my man seed had ended up on her hand and the seat.

  “Well, I certainly feel better,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  “Yeah, and now I suspect we’ll both sleep a whole lot better.”

  Tina leaned over and kissed me one last time then got comfortable in her bed and pulled her blanket up to her chin. I did the same then threw my arm over the little barrier and across her chest, as it allowed us to half-assedly spoon. It was better than nothing, and soon Tina was fast asleep, leaving me alone with my thoughts of the long and unusual day. When I awoke the next morning, I would be in Costa Rica, and I’d have a hell of a job in front of me and a whole lot of questions for Estelle, if and when I found her. I finally closed my eyes, and, as I was drifting off to sleep, I had more visions of a dark forbidding jungle, and I kept hearing Estelle’s haunting words—Tag, I need your help. Of course I also thought about that scream and couldn’t help but wonder what the hell happened out in that jungle. At long last, sleep came, and I was thankfully lost to the world of dreams, where I took refuge from the harsh light of reality.

  Morning came softly, and my eyes opened of their own accord to the dim light filling the cabin. Somewhere not too far away, coffee was brewing, and first class was stirring as people made their first brief bathroom rounds of the morning. Another hour and we’d be done with breakfast, and the lavatories would be jammed packed with dumpers—my least favorite aspect of flying. Tina stirred and opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me.

  “So, it wasn’t just a really good dream,” she said.

  “No, it was a really awesome reality.”

  I took a look around the cabin and saw that my Latin menace had woken up enough from his dreamy ketamine nap to return to his seat, where he was thankfully still asleep.

  “I really need to brush my teeth,” Tina said.

  “Ditto.”

  We both grabbed our toothbrushes and walked past a still sleeping Todd and headed to the lavatories, where I took a solid forty-two second horse piss then brushed my teeth and felt a hell of a lot fresher. I returned to my seat to find Tina looking rather lovely in spite of our unusual night on the plane. Better still, she had ordered us coffee, and it arrived soon thereafter. I took my cup and held it below my nose and breathed in the scent that would bring life and joy to my mind and body. Life without coffee would be a real motherfucker, and I knew this because I had tried switching to tea once, but it only lasted about four months before the siren like call of coffee drew me back into its loving embrace. And it wasn’t just the caffeine—it was the entire olfactory experience. I simply loved the smell of coffee in the morning, and I couldn’t stand starting the day without the smell and taste of that glorious first sip.

  Today was no different, and, as I brought the cup to my lips and took a sip, I found the world grew just a little brighter—both metaphorically and literally, and every sip thereafter brought just a tiny bit more clarity and, in turn, optimism about the job that lay ahead in Costa Rica. I would find out what happened to the scientists and, more specifically, Estelle—and, more importantly, find out what the fuck was up with this upcoming wedding. Every time that girl was out of my sight, she became engaged. Sweet mother of nuptial goats, I was starting to think she was addicted to matrimony for the sole purpose of making me miserable.

  I finished my first cup of coffee and was soon on another when the horrifying thought occurred that I had at least another hour before we landed. If I weren’t careful, I’d end up dropping an emergency deuce on the plane, and that thought was enough to send shivers up my spine and manifest a cold sweat. Sure, I’d had plenty of bowel movements on a private
jet and even one on an Emirates Air flight to Dubai, but the extreme luxury and privacy of those circumstances made the experience slightly more bearable.

  The flight attendant arrived, and we ordered breakfast, but I kept mine as light as possible by going with eggs and toast. Ten minutes later, I was enjoying a simple yet delicious meal, as my eggs had been cooked perfectly medium hard. Tina, unlike me, was eating a hearty vegetable omelet while Todd was elbows deep in a massive plate of sausage and pancakes, and I could already imagine their mad dash for the bathroom.

  We finished up breakfast, and, just as the attendant cleared our plates, the announcement came that we would soon begin our descent into San Jose Costa Rica. Todd immediately bolted from his seat and headed straight for the lavatories, and Tina was only a few steps behind. They were braver souls than I, but soon a familiar pressure was churning away in my bowels. Sweet mother of God let me hold this tide back until we’re on the ground. I closed my eyes and tried to relax by clearing my head of all thoughts of defecation. Unfortunately, this was sabotaged by uncontrollable visions of my sphincter serving as a damn that was trying to hold back a rain swollen lake of feces. I opened my eyes, and there, sticking out from the seat pouch in front of me was the corner of a sanitary bag. It was a cruel reminder of my Southwest pee incident and cemented in my mind that there was no way in hell I’d end up shitting in a bag.

  “Fuck me!” I said, a little louder than I had intended.

  The woman sitting on the other side of the aisle looked over.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  “Sorry, I was talking to myself.”

  I was just going to have to man-up and take a shit. I undid my seatbelt and headed up the aisle towards the lavatories and got in line behind a middle aged woman with a magazine, a tween girl with an iPad, and a heavyset fellow holding a newspaper. They were all clearly serious dumpers and people of courage to be so bold as to flaunt their reading materials. A lavatory opened up, and out walked Tina, who barely managed not to get bowled over when the middle aged woman took her place.

  “Boy do I feel better,” she said.

  “Yeah, I was hoping to hold it until we landed but decided I better just get it done now.”

  “Smart thinking after the whole Southwest incident.”

  “Yeah, I’m making hay while the sun shines.”

  “Making something,” she said.

  “Yeah—shit—but, as you already know, I’m not a fan of public restrooms, least of all on planes.”

  “Be strong—it beats the alternative.”

  “Yeah, like shitting in a barf bag or my pants, and either one of those options would mar my soul and reduce any remaining self-esteem.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably true.”

  A lavatory opened up, and out walked a rugged looking twentysomething carrying a Kindle. The tween quickly took his place while the large man in front of me was starting to get antsy, and I could feel his pain—literally. My two eggs, toast, and coffee were knocking on my back door, and I was starting to wonder if perhaps the entire first class compartment had to take last minute emergency shits. A door opened, and out walked Todd, and he looked calm and relieved as he joined Tina and me.

  “Wow, epic shit! I was worried I was going to have to beat it with a stick to get it down the hole, but it thankfully broke in half and dropped through.”

  “That is totally not helping,” I said.

  “Oh—are you a nervous shitter?” he asked.

  “Only in public restrooms.”

  “Oh, dude, I’m sorry—you must be in hell right now.”

  “Yeah, this airplane is indeed the devil’s domain, and that lavatory is my personal place of torment.”

  “That’s mildly poo-etic.”

  “Misery brings out my inner poo-et.”

  “Come on, Todd, let’s leave Tag to his chore,” Tina said.

  The two of them left as the heavyset man took Todd’s vacated lavatory, thereby leaving me alone to wait, and, minutes passed as I stood there in tortured silence with my butt cheeks clenched together. An announcement came over the plane’s PA system saying that all passengers were to return to their seats, as we were beginning our final descent. Wonderful. A moment later, a flight attendant came around the corner, and she was looking a little concerned.

  “Um, sir, I hope you’re not going to be in there too long,” she said.

  “Define long?”

  “Two minutes,” she said, sheepishly.

  “Not even if I had consumed rocket fuel.”

  “Well, just be as quick as you can.”

  “I’ll certainly try, but it’s still a matter of actually getting into one of these shit boxes. Apparently, there are a bunch of campers ahead of me.”

  “Campers?” she asked.

  “Yeah, people who take reading material or electronic devices into public bathrooms. Almost every one of the fuckers coming out have Kindles, magazines, newspapers, or iPads.”

  I wasn’t one to rush a number two, but I always did my best to finish up quickly in public forums, and especially if there was a line. The flight attendant looked at each of the lavatories and saw that they were all occupied, and she smiled and tried to be understanding.

  “One should open up any second, so, just be as quick as you can,” she said.

  “Believe me, I will.”

  She left, and the next available lavatory just happened to be the one that had been occupied by the tween, and I wasn’t sure if it was her or the previous tenant, but one of them had really gone to town and left a thin mist of human smog hanging in the air. The first thing I did was check to see that there was toilet paper then let out a sigh of relief when I saw at least half a roll. Next, I placed a seat cover down then dropped my pants and hit the plastic with a vengeance. Oh God, please let this be over quickly and easily. I relaxed and felt the release of the first load and started to feel a real optimism that I’d get through this and back to my seat in a timely manner. As I waited for lucky load number two to approach the birth canal, I looked around the lavatory and wondered how many germs coated its plastic and stainless steel surfaces. That’s when my attention returned to the door, and I saw that I had somehow forgotten to engage the lock.

  “Fuck!”

  Load two was very quickly approaching, so it was extremely important to keep my sphinc over the drink as I tried to reach the lock. Two inches—I was only two fucking inches from the lock when I realized I couldn’t reach it without standing up. Goddammit. I clenched by butt cheeks, stood, and had just gotten my fingers on the little slider, when the door opened, and there before me stood a rather beautiful and rather startled woman. She screamed loudly though not nearly as loudly as I. It was bad enough being caught on the pot, but even worse that I had reacted like a little girl. Embarrassment quickly set in, and I instinctively flushed the toilet as the woman averted her eyes downward to where her gaze immediately fell upon my penis, which was dangling out from under my shirt. Could my life get any worse? Now, I was inadvertently engaged in a highly embarrassing striptease, with my stage being an airplane lavatory and my sexy prop a plastic toilet. Just as she started to back away from the door, not one but two flight attendants appeared, and now a total of three women were staring into my little corner of hell. This was easily the second worst dump experience I could remember in recent months, as the first had been at a Luau in Hawaii. That one had entailed getting food poisoning and mistakenly running into the women’s restroom, which I didn’t realize until I was up to my ass in diarrhea and women. Needless to say, this incident was very close to overtaking first place if I didn’t get the door closed and my business finished as soon as possible.

  “Is everything all right here?” one of the flight attendants asked.

  “Yeah, but I forgot to use the lock. Mind if I finish?” I asked as I reached over and slid the door closed, this time sliding the lock properly into place.

  Having one of my bowel movements interrupted had always been a harb
inger of doom, so God only knew what evil had just been set into motion with this blunder. This was the kind of bad mojo that might even bring down the entire plane. I closed my eyes and started deep breathing exercises in the hopes of calming my nerves and reopening my eighth chakra brown eye. A little over thirty seconds passed before the remaining residents of my colon made the brave leap into the cold dark abyss of the plastic bowl. Finally empty, I began proper exfiltration procedures, which started with a thorough wiping and ended with scrubbing my hands as though I were preparing to perform surgery. As I reached for the towels, I heard a knock followed by the voice of one of the flight attendants.

  “Are you OK in there?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

  “OK, well, we’re well into our final descent, so the sooner you get to your seat the better.”

  “No problem, I’m coming out now,” I said.

  I was imagining half the plane was waiting outside the door, and all of them would be ready and waiting to laugh at the idiot who had forgotten to use the lock. I therefore took a moment to steady my nerves then slid the little lock and opened the door to find that all was quiet and deserted except for the lone flight attendant. I hadn’t noticed during the earlier chaos, but she was actually quite beautiful with her cocoa brown skin, high cheek bones, and lusciously full lips. Her name, according to the pin on her lapel, was Charlotte, and she looked genuinely sympathetic to my predicament.

  “I’m very sorry for all the trouble, sir,” she said, with a real sincerity.

  “It wasn’t your fault. I was clearly the idiot who forgot to lock the door.”

  “Well, believe me when I say that we’ve seen it all up here in the friendly skies.”

  “Thank you, that makes me feel a little less inclined to go kill myself.”

  “Remember, we’re all human. Nothing more—nothing less.”

  She patted me reassuringly on the back as I headed off and returned to my seat, where I let out a long sigh of relief as I buckled in. Tina looked over and smiled when she saw my expression.

  “Hard time in the bathroom?”