by Reed James
by
Reed James
The Blushing Bride
I loved being a futa flight attendant. I had so much fun flying the friendly skies, and showing my female passengers just how friendly I and my futa cock could be.
I had a sway to my hips as I walked through the airport, my small, carry-on suitcase rolling behind me and a smile plastered on my face. I was excited to work another red eye flight to Hawaii. It was my favorite route to work. Plenty of time to have some fun over the dark Pacific Ocean.
My clitoris tingled in anticipation.
I was dressed in my freshly pressed flight attendant uniform: navy-blue pencil skirt that clung to my curvy ass, a light-blue, silk blouse that clung to my naked breasts—large, round, without a hint of sag, my nipple two points dimpling the fabric—and a small jacket, matching my skirt, that my fiery-red hair fell about.
“Looking good,” a woman called out.
I turned and saw Amanda walking up, dressed identically, pulling her own carrying-on suitcase behind her. She was a tall, graceful woman with raven-black hair. I hadn't seen her in a few weeks; our schedules had drifted apart. I loved flying with Amanda—tonight was going to be an amazing trip.
“Gang's back together,” I grinned, throwing an arm around her shoulders.
“Are you already thinking about having fun?”
“Always.”
“You are such a bad girl.”
“I just want to give my passengers a wonderful flight.”
Her hand quickly snaked down, pressing my skirt into my groin, brushing my clitoris. I had to concentrate to keep my nub in line. “You mean, you're going to show a passenger a wonderful time, Vicky.”
“Well, they're flying the friendly skies. It's our motto, right?”
“Aphrodite Air, flying through the friendliest skies,” Amanda quoted.
“So I have to show my passengers the friendliest time I can. Preferably in the lavatory, bent over the toilet, my cock reaming their sweet pussy.”
“Oh, Vicky,” moaned Amanda, crying out in mock passion. “Give it to me! I need it! I love your big, futa cock!” Her moans descended into laughter, and she pressed against me as she shook with mirth.
“Sounds like the feisty woman I helped in the lavatory on my last flight,” I grinned. She had been Hispanic, her skin a beautiful brown, and her legs had been strong as they wrapped around my hips, my face buried in her large breasts. I had fucked her hard and she had clawed my back and cum like a roaring freight train on my futa cock.
We reached the terminal, passing the small crowd waiting to board our flight. It looked like a light load, which was always the best if you were looking to have some fun. We nodded to the gate attendant, a pretty gal name Monica that I knew was quite the screamer when she cums. I winked at her and a blush stained her cheeks—she remembered, too.
Our heels echoed as we walked down the slanting gate, the tunnel shaking slightly as we walked. The doors were open and the plane was quiet, only the faint hum of the engines vibrating through the cabin. We put our suitcases in the overhead bins and looked over our part of the plane—first class.
“Only six in first class,” I said, looking over the manifest, a smile crossing my lips. “Definitely going to have some fun tonight.”
My clitoris ached, begging to transform into my futa cock. But I had been a futanari for long enough to control it most of the time. Two years ago, when I had first been hired by Aphrodite Air, I had dedicated myself to the Goddess Aphrodite, and she had granted me youthful beauty and a clitoris that, when I'm aroused, sprouted into a long, thick dick.
And I loved to share it with my female passengers.
The captain, a gorgeous brunette that liked to take women into the cockpit and show them how to handle her stick, walked into the plane, just finished with her preflight, a smile on her face. “We'll start boarding in a few minutes,” Captain Sally smiled. “Just popped into the terminal and saw a few lookers out there. Wait until you see the bride.” She gave me a wink, then disappeared back into the cockpit.
“Bride,” I grinned at Amanda. “Nice.”
“She must have just gotten married,” her fellow flight attendant said. “Don't go and ruin her honeymoon.”
“I won't,” I promised. “I'll just give her a wedding gift.”
“Oh, Vicky!” Amanda moaned. “Give it to me! Harder! Make me forget all about my new husband!”
“Exactly.” I grinned, my clitoris itching to grow into a full cock. I leaned over and gave her a kiss on her lips.
The passengers began boarding soon after that. They all looked tired, yet excited. They were going on vacation to paradise, leaving behind dreary Washington State. Almost all were dressed in loose clothing, Hawaiian shirts, and loose, flowery sundresses, sunglasses perched on their brows. We helped them stow their bags and find their seats.
The Bride took my breath away. She was cute, blonde and blue eyed, her breasts perky beneath a white peasant's blouse, and her hips were clad in skinny jeans that demanded my eyes absorb every moment of her hip-swaying walk down the aisle. Perched on her blonde hair was a small, bridal veil, falling in gauzy purity about her golden tresses.
“Here, Irene,” the man with her said. He was handsome, I guess, and Irene gave him a kiss the moment they sat down, then clung to his arm as they chatted. They were clearly in love—I couldn't wait to pull those jeans down and shove my cock into her pussy.
“Wow,” whispered Amanda as we prepared to give the in-flight safety instructions. “Sally was right, she is a knock out!”
“So, who are you looking at having fun with?”
Amanda nodded her head towards the two women sitting in the first row. “The redhead.”
Both women were gorgeous, but Amanda always did lose her head over a ginger, and if the woman had a firecrotch, she would have her face buried between the redhead's thighs all flight if she could—I knew from first hand experience; Amanda loved my fiery bush. The ginger's companion was more my type, bleached-blonde with a heart-shaped face. If I hadn't had my sights set on the Bride, she would be my playmate for this flight.
I grabbed the PA. “Thank you all for flying Aphrodite Air,” I purred. “We're a fairly new carrier and our owners, Ms. Vivian and Ms. Shelley want to extend their thanks for flying on the friendliest skies with us.”
My eyes were locked on the Bride. She gave a small smile as I read through the in-flight safety instructions—I was a pro at it after a year and didn't need to pay attention any more. I just kept staring at that blushing bride. Her cheeks were so rosy and she shifted in her seat beneath my hungry gaze. She licked her lips, nervous at the strange feelings I was awakening in her.
I was a futanari, blessed by Aphrodite—all women responded to us.
The Bride, Irene, shifted in her seat, her hand absently stroking her new husband's arm as my blue eyes raked her body, a hungry smile growing, dimpling my cheeks. I paused, licking my lips, slow and deliberate, for her. Those pale cheeks grew even redder and her own lips parted, pink tongue moistening suddenly dry lips.
I could smell my lust as a bead of moisture trickled down my thigh; it took all my self-control to keep my clitoris under control.
Safety briefing over, Amanda closed the curtain that separated first class from coach and I walked down the aisle, pausing at the Bride. “Congratulations,” I told her, bending over so my heavy breasts press against my silk blouse, letting my fingers touch her cheek. “You two must be so happy.”
“Yeah,” grinned her husband, squeezing his wife's hand.
“Very,” whispered the Bride, looking down, her jaw quivering.
“If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'm here to give you what you desire to make sure your honeymoon is as memorable as possible.”
“Thanks,” the Bride whispered, her breath quickening.
“Wow, she's normally a chatterbox,” laughed her husband, then he yawned, “Well it has been a long day.”
“I'
m sure I can coax her out of her shell.” Her skin was so wonderful as I traced her cheek.
She looked up at me, swallowing, “I'll be fine. You don't need to—”
“Honey, it's her job.”
I grinned at her husband. “That's right, listen to him. I'll take great care of you.”
“Flight attendants take your seats,” announced the copilot, a saucy Hispanic woman still on probation. She hadn't earned her futa cock yet.
Amanda and I strapped into the rear-facing jump seats, strapping in. “Umm, Cassie is just to die for?”
“The redhead?” I asked.
“Uh-huh.” She pressed her thighs together, her skirt riding up her pantyhose-clad legs. I preferred thigh-high stockings held up by a garter belt, and loved it when my skirt rose up to show the tops off, giving a teasing flash of my pale flesh.
In no time we were in the air—I kept my eyes fixed on the Bride as we lifted up to the cruising altitude. She kept peaking around the seat in front of her and blushing when she saw my eyes then ducking back behind the seat. I was going to love her so much tonight.
We reached cruising altitude; the fasten seat belt sign turned off. “Who would like some complimentary champagne?” Amanda asked as she stood up. “Just a way for Aphrodite Air to show our appreciation for choosing to fly with us.”
“Sure,” the husband exclaimed. “I wouldn't mind celebrating a little bit more.” His arm was around his new wife; her eyes were on me.
Unsurprising, all six of our passengers, the two business men, the Bride and her husband, and Cassie and her bleached-blonde friend, were happy to accept a flute of champagne. I poured, then whispered a quick prayer over four of the flutes: “Oh, great Goddess! Light of womanhood, the most beautiful, perfect being in all creation, place your blessing upon these glasses. Let those that drink know the bliss of sleep so your initiates can spread your love to their paramours.”
I couldn't wait to spread Aphrodite's love to the Bride.
I walked the drink cart down handing the charmed flutes to the business men and the husband while Amanda took care of Cassie and her friend. “Enjoy,” I smiled at the husband, because I'm going to enjoy your blushing bride. I handed a regular, unenchanted glass to the Bride, then grabbed one for myself after stowing the cart.
Her eyes widened when I returned with my own glass, sitting across the aisle from her. “To an amazing flight,” I said, holding my glass out.
She nodded, tinking her glass against mine.
“Wow, I'm tired, babe,” her husband whispered, his flute half drunk, setting it on the tray table. “Think I'm gonna take a nap.”
The Bride swallowed. “Okay, hun.” She couldn't pull her blue eyes away.
I reached over, touching her hand, stroking her with my thumb. “Don't worry, I'll take good care of you while your husband sleeps.”
“That's okay. I'm tired, too.” She gave a fake, theatrical yawn.
“You will be after I'm done with you, cutie,” I grinned.
She blinked, “What?”
“I'm going to take you into the lavatory and fuck you hard.” I arched my eyebrows. “You're joining the mile high club tonight!”
She shot a glance at her husband; he snored. “I just got married. I'm on my honeymoon. I'm not going to cheat on my husband.”
I gave her hand a squeeze, then lift it up to my lips as I leaned across the aisle. “That's sweet, but your little pussy is dripping in excitement. You can't wait to break your marriage vows and get a little wild.” I kissed her fingers.
She shook her head, her thighs squeezing together.
My tongue slid around her slim digits, soaking them with my tongue, sucking each one into my lips as she squirmed in her seat, her breath quickening, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her blouse. I loved the taste of her, faintly salty and a hint of a coconut lotion.
I kissed her palm then leaned farther into the aisle. “I bet your dying to have that itch in your pussy scratched, and I have just the thing to scratch it with.”
“Your fingers?” Then she snapped her mouth shut, eyes widening in horror. “I'm not a lesbian. I love my husband.”
She tried to pull away, but I caught her hand. “Love your husband. I just want to fuck you.”
“Well, I don't want to fuck you, miss!”
“Even if my cock is bigger than your husband's?”
“What?” she gasped.
My clitoris, itching for the last half-hour to grow, swelled up. I wasn't wearing any panties to constrain it. Pleasure burned as my clitoris grew, pressing against my skirt, thickening, lengthening, transforming into a dick. Her eyes widened as my skirt bulged, then it rose up as my girth expanded, the tip of my cock sliding across the nylon, sending a shudder through me. And then it popped out, pink and hard, long and thick, a drop of clear precum on the tip.
“Holy fuck!” the Bride gasped.
I turned, spreading my legs and sticking my feet into the aisle. I ran a finger through my fiery bush, stroking my wet pussy lips, then up the length of my cock. “Isn't that bigger than your husbands?”
She nodded, licking her lips.
I stood up, my cock thrusting before me, and walked to the lavatory. “If you want to feel how amazing my dick is, follow me.”
I walked past Amanda sitting on Cassie's lap, her tongue down the woman's throat while Cassie's friend snored beside them, an empty flute in the bleached-blonde's lap. I could fuck the Bride in the cabin, but I loved the lavatories. It was so much more intimate, like we were really sneaking around—which could be fun, too.
I stripped off my jacket, blouse and skirt while I waited. I loved this part. The Bride was out there, her sex itching for satisfaction, and the image of my cock rising above my own pussy was burned into her mind. She would try and fight her desire, telling herself how much she loved whatever his name was, remembering how only hours ago she had sworn to be faithful to him.
But her little pussy would be whispering such naughty thoughts, growing wetter and wetter, her lust roaring through her veins, engorging her labia and clitoris while her desire soaked through her panties and maybe even those tight jeans she wore. Her scent would reach her nose, compelling her to get up and satisfy her desires—to break her marriage vows.
My cock throbbed in anticipation and my nipples ached. I tweaked them, my large breasts jiggling. I resisted the urge to stroke my cock, to pleasure myself. I didn't want to waste a single orgasm. I wanted the Bride to pleasure my futa dick.
A hesitant knock at the door.
“It's open,” I purred.
The door cracked and almost closed immediately. Then she ripped it open and stepped in, slamming the door behind her with a metallic thud. Her blue eyes fell on my cock rearing up, twitching with my heartbeat. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”
“Believe it,” I purred as I sat on the toilet. “Now get on your knees and suck my cock. Get your first taste of a futa dick.”
“Futa?”
“I'm a futanari,” I grinned. “A real, live dickgirl. Now start sucking.”
The Bride moaned as she fell to her knees, “This is so fucking bizarre.” She licked through my pussy, her tongue pressing in, then up my cock to the tip, swirling her tongue around it, then opening her mouth wide and sucking in my tip.
“That's it,” I moaned, reaching out and grabbing the Bride's veil, then pulling it down to cover her face in white gauze—virginal and pure, and yet so obscene as her tongue swirled around the tip of my futa dick. “Worship my cock, futa slut!”
She was noisy, her spit running down my cock as she worked it in and out of her mouth. Pleasure began shooting through me, my toes curling as she bobbed her head. She slid the tip around her mouth, brushing it against all the wonderful spots inside her while her tongue explored around my shaft. The toilet creaked as I shifted my hips, my body alive with pleasure.
And then her hands touched my thighs, rubbing me through my stockings, then sliding up to my bare flesh, drawi
ng closer and closer to the furnace burning in my pussy. I gasped, “Yes,” as her fingers stroked my labia, exploring all my silky folds. Her touch was light at first, just grazing, then she grew more confident, pressing through my petals, and igniting all the wonderful nerves in my labia as her mouth sucked harder at my cock, while she bobbed out and down.
“Yes!” I groaned as two fingers thrust into me, one from each hand. One finger would thrust in while the other pulled out, both working deep into me.
Her mouth popped off my cock. “You really have both.”
“Uh-huh,” I gasped. “Don't stop. I want you to taste my cum.”
The Bride's lips engulfed me, her fingers kept pumping. The sensations were amazing, battling each other in my core. The intensity built at the tip of my cock while her thrusting fingers churned the passion in the depths of my pussy. My ass raised up from the toilet seat as the pleasures warred in my core.
“Your husband must love your blowjobs,” I gasped. She stiffened for a moment, her mouth frozen, her blue eyes staring up at me. I reached under her veil, stroking her cheek. “Just enjoy yourself, sweetie. He'll never find out.”
She sucked even harder, a throaty growl escaping her throat, vibrating my cock. I arched my back, pressing against the fuselage. She looked so innocent with her veil and so whorish as she gobbled my cock. She pulled one of her fingers out, then slipped two in with her other hand, working them deep, wiggling them around inside my tunnel before pumping them rapidly in and out, churning pleasure through me, mixing with the passion her sucking mouth generated.
“Fuck!” I groaned, my hands squeezing into fists as the pleasures whirled about each other.
More shudders rocked through me and I moaned, my head lolling back. My breasts heaved, my hard nipples waving atop my mounds. This wonderful vixen was hitting every button my body possessed, guiding my body towards an earth shattering climax. She worked her mouth lower, the tip of my cock brushing the back of her throat. I widened my eyes as her tight throat engulfed my cock. She swallowed and moaned, friction and humming vibrations shivered through me.
“Shit!” I gasped. “That's it! Suck my futa cock!”
