This was how all travel should be, thought Helena. 11 hours on a plane for her would normally be uncomfortable at best, screamingly infuriating at worst. Instead, here she was, perched at a rather sleek bar with an extremely attractive and attentive gentleman, ordering a martini. She never drank martinis. She preferred a glass of Chablis or occasionally a bottle of Sol or Peroni. But she was in business class. A martini just felt right. “Can I have two olives?” she asked, just for the hell of it.
“Of course, madam,” said the young bar tender. Helena felt that he would have acquiesced with just as much charm had she asked for 30 olives and a cupcake. Adam ordered a martini too. A quick toast and within a few minutes they were already ordering a second. It’s easy to get tipsy on planes, and this drink combined with the champagne earlier meant that Helena was already feeling pleasantly light-headed. Any nerves about this trip, about this big, unusual, maybe even risky, decision she had made, were now long forgotten.
“So,” said Adam, twisting the toothpick that was skewering his single olive, “when was the last time you flew? Where did you fly to? Bad memories of economy class?”
“Oh dahhhling,” Helena began in her best posh voice. “It was frightful, it really was. All those… those people. You just can’t imagine.” Adam smiled. “It was fine actually. Short hop to Milan for a weekend away with a couple of girlfriends. Before that… God, it was probably with the ex. I haven’t been away much the last couple of years. We went to Madrid for four or five days.”
“How was it?”
“Same as usual. Great for the first day, lovely first evening, then by the end of the third day we were pretty much sick of the sight of each other. We had a weird relationship like that. Very good in small doses. But marriages don’t come in small doses, do they?”
“I suppose not.”
“Sorry, you don’t want to hear all this nonsense, do you? That’s not what we’re here for!”
“No it’s fine, honestly. Was he a nightmare?”
“No he was okay. But we were just too different. Especially when we drank. When I drink I try to maintain a sense of decorum, you know, to stay at least a little ladylike – as you can tell,” she giggled, reaching forward and patting his knee. “Okay, so maybe I was a bit wilder in my 20s, but for the last few years I’ve been a good girl. Mainly. It’s not the done thing for a woman of my age to be found drunk in the gutter, skirt hitched above hips, empty bottle of Lambrini in hand, mascara pouring down face and vomit drying on cleavage.
“I matured, you know. But my ex couldn’t let go of his 20s. When we went on that Madrid trip we had a meal on the third night and he had a cocktail to start, a strong one, and then we shared a bottle of wine, although he probably drank two-thirds of it. Then, even though I’d had enough, he ordered another bottle, which he drank by himself. And then he had a cognac. And another, just to round the evening off. He was just sitting there garbling nonsense at me. Not with me. At me. It would have been okay if he’d have shut up. We were out in a lovely square, it was a warm evening, there were families and lovers and sweet grandmothers all out for a stroll, having a nice time. It was really beautiful, you know? I could’ve sat there in total silence just enjoying the atmosphere, sipping at a coffee. But he was legless. I mean, I was a bit drunk, but he was out of his tree.”
“It’s not necessary,” agreed Adam, and then ordered a third martini each, making Helena giggle again.
“So, finally, we get up to leave, but as soon as he stands up his legs buckle. I have to hold him up. I can feel people staring at us. We walk for a bit, but then he sees this kid, this three-year-old, I swear, riding a little scooter. So he runs up to him and asks him, in English, if he can have a go. The kid doesn’t understand and looks at his parents. The poor mite looked terrified. But the ex just asks the parents if he can have a go. In English, of course. They look at me and can tell I’m mortified. I try to get him away, because he’s got his hands on the handlebars of the scooter, but he won’t let go. He asks the parents again and they say something in Spanish to their poor, terrified kid, and he lets go of it. So the ex gleefully jumps on and begins scootering around the piazza, singing, I shit you not, ‘O Sole Mio’. The twat thought he was in Italy or something. Finally, he falls off, hurts his knee, staggers back, gives the kid his scooter, ruffles his hair, insists on shaking the kid’s dad’s hand and then, before I can stop him, he kisses the mum’s hand and starts bowing and then tells them how much he loves the footballer Andres Iniesta, who even I know plays for Barcelona, so that’s a dumb thing to say in Madrid, and, finally, I drag him away.”
“Oh Christ. What was their reaction?”
“Well, they smiled at me pityingly and waved their hands as I apologised. But, you know, typical bloody drunken Englishman abroad… Still,” she took a sip of her drink and then took the stick of olives and carefully pulled one of them into her mouth with her lips, ‘I don’t have to worry about him anymore.”
An hour or so later, having both finished a rather lovely meal ordered from a menu, like in a restaurant, not thrown at them from a tray following the usual ‘Chicken or beef?’ question/demand, they settled back into their extremely comfortable chairs and watched a couple of old episodes of Seinfeld. Gradually, lights all around them flickered out and a sort of dusk fell inside the plane as people began dozing off. It was incredibly peaceful and relaxing. After the first episode, Adam had suggested that they both make use of the blankets, so by midway through the second (Kramer falls helplessly in love with Jerry’s new girlfriend), they were both feeling warm and cosy.
It was around this time that Adam moved his hand over to Helena’s leg. She held it, slipping her fingers between his once more, but soon he moved his hand under the blanket for a more direct connection with her thigh.
Helena knew exactly what was going on. They had discussed it all. Adam, a little more experienced in this kind of thing than her, had explained how it would all work. Thanks to his little stories earlier, the flush of alcohol and, of course, his magnificent hotness, Helena had, in fact, been dying for this particular dance to begin for some time. Sitting at the bar she had constantly touched his thigh, wishing they could be alone. As they walked back to their seats she had admired his tight behind. When they sat down she had even dared to sneak a quick glance at the full bulge around his crotch.
In short, she was very horny. The idea of joining the Mile High Club had always been something she had fantasised about. She never thought she’d have the guts to do it, and the ex was certainly never up for it, but negotiations with Adam had progressed freely. For several weeks she had been daydreaming about this and now he had given her the sign.
Quickly, she slid her hand across to his thighs, under the blanket, and felt his muscular leg. Adam wasted little time either. His hand moved up her inner thigh, brushing the lace at the top of her stocking and then stroking the soft, sensitive skin just underneath her panties. She moved her hand up higher too, feeling for his cock, finding it quickly. Evidently, he was as turned on as she was.
This was an intricate exercise. No one could really see what they were doing – it was too dark, people were sleeping and there was plenty of space between seats – but still, they couldn’t be too obvious about it. Could they get arrested for lewd behaviour? She managed to undo the button at the top of his jeans and unzip him at least halfway down. She could feel him radiating underneath the smooth material of his taut briefs (likely Armani). She rubbed gently, up and down, feeling him enlarge at her touch.
Meanwhile, Adam too had moved higher. Helena had decided to wear a very, very small thong for the trip. Normally, she would definitely be in the most comfortable pair of pants she could find for a long flight, but she knew that Adam was going to see them and she knew that Adam was going to need quick, easy access, so she settled on the thong. And, to be honest, it hadn’t been uncomfortable at all – she had barely thought about it, in fact. That was the kind of comfort she had in business class. Adam’s fin
gers were now rubbing against the front of her thong, pressing, massaging. She was still watching Seinfeld, but she was not taking in a single word. She was almost holding her breath.
His fingers now found a way around the silk material, slithering underneath until he located her clitoris. She stifled a gasp. His fingers moved down to her opening, luxuriating in her wetness, and then returned to her clit, lubricating it, circling it.
“Now?” she whispered. But he shook his head.
Helena’s back straightened and she blinked very slowly. Her hand grabbed at his now fully erect cock and pulled at it, then snatched at the material of his pants, desperate to touch the hot flesh underneath. She manoeuvred her hand inside, stretching his briefs, and was able to leisurely run her hand up and down his dick, feeling him throb with the motion.
Adam leaned towards her and she thought he was going to say something, but instead he just kissed her neck once, twice, even bit it slightly. Then he slid a finger inside her, just an inch or so, and then withdrew. Then slid it back in. And out. In unison, they masturbated each other, keeping an even rhythm.
“Now?” she murmured, a little more desperately. But, again, he shook his head.
Against her better judgement she stole a glance at him. Anyone else would just think he was paying very close attention to the sitcom. But Helena knew the difference. For a start, he wasn’t laughing. Like her, he had ceased to listen to the words or perhaps even see the images. His was a face of concentration, of trying to touch Helena from a difficult angle and of trying not to moan as she tugged almost angrily at his cock.
Soon he was rubbing her clit hard – the movements of his arm might even have been obvious to a passing stewardess. Helena too was throwing caution to the wind and her arm was visibly moving up and down as she dominated his straining penis. She saw him close his eyes for several seconds and then twitch in his seat. He was close. She knew it. At last, he whispered in her ear: “Now. Now.”
Carefully, but perhaps not as carefully as she might have done had she not been more than a little tipsy and about one minute away from a hot, wet climax, she removed her hand from his pants. He withdrew his hand too. Both of them surreptitiously made the necessary adjustments, then Adam folded his blanket, stood up, and placed it on his seat. He glanced around, nodded at a stewardess who was probably getting a bit of an eyeful of the handsome beast (did Helena notice her glance subtly towards that reasonably obvious bulge below his waist?) and strolled to the toilet cubicle.
Helena counted to ten, as agreed. It was a fast count, admittedly, but she did count to ten. He never said it had to be ten seconds, or that she had to say ‘elephant’ between each number or anything like that. ‘Just count to ten,’ he had said. She rose, her blanket fell to the floor, and she walked quickly to the same cubicle. It said ‘vacant’, and she let herself in.
Normally, Helena would have been interested to see just how much more luxurious the business class lavatory was compared to the economy toilet, but at this point things like bathroom fixtures and fittings and the softness of loo paper were not foremost on her mind. Adam looked tall, strong. She looked at his blue eyes as he reached out to flick the lock on the door.
He put his arms around her and finally they were kissing. Open-mouthed, urgently they kissed, her hands immediately grasping for his perfect arse, something she had wanted to do since they boarded the plane. His hands slid up under her dress, delicately squeezing her naked backside, his fingers tracing the thin strip of material making up her thong.
Time, however, was short. There’s rarely a queue for business class loos, but, still, it’s preferable to avoid tumbling out of a cubicle two by two in front of a small audience. Accordingly, Helena’s hands slipped round to the front of his jeans and began pulling at them, popping the button, pawing the zip down and then yanking both his jeans and his briefs down to his knees in one go. She put both hands around his large, thick cock and kissed him harder, cupping it between her hands and massaging it. He, with a little more grace and skill, tugged at her thong and, with a wiggle from her, it dropped to the floor. He unbuttoned her shirt quickly and before she could struggle out of it completely he was reaching behind to unhook her bra.
Helena wondered whether they really had time to strip, but if she was going to be naked from the waist up, then she wanted him nude too, so together they undid his buttons, fumbling at them while their lips remained locked together until finally she could press her soft breasts against his firm chest and get that electrifying feeling of skin on skin.
She started to kiss down his body, moving rapidly, inevitably towards his penis, but he saw what she was doing and with great dexterity he picked her up and swung her round so that he now had his back to the door. He lifted her higher. “Kick off your shoes,” he commanded. He then placed her on top of the closed toilet seat. She stood there for a moment as he stepped back. Hair dishevelled, shirt and bra and knickers and shoes on the floor, dressed now just in her creased skirt and her stockings, she longed for him to take her. He grinned, bent down a little, pushed her skirt upwards and then began kissing her hips, the tops of her thighs and then, mercifully, he put his mouth to her pussy, his tongue probing at her clitoris almost instantly, forcing her to inhale sharply.
His hands grabbed her arse to steady her, but she wanted more. Somehow she manoeuvred one leg up a little and rested her foot on the basin to her left. With her right hand placed against the roof of the cubicle she was at a crazy angle, but the pleasure only intensified. “Mmm,” she heard him mumble approvingly as her askew stance allowed his tongue to explore further, circling her clit, slipping lower, probing inside her, licking her, savouring her juices.
His hands pushed her buttocks, forcing her to buck into him harder as he expertly tongue-massaged her vulva. She reached down with one hand and pulled at his dark hair, letting herself go as he continued to nudge her towards orgasm. “Oh fuck,” she murmured as he took one hand from her arse and slowly slid a slick finger inside her cunt, teasing her as his mouth continued to concentrate on her clit. She rocked in this strange position, eyes shut tightly as he pleasured her until she murmured, frantically, “I want you inside me. Now!”
It sounded like an order and Adam took it as such. He moved his lips to her stomach, and any possible hang-up she had about that area was so far from her mind that she simply clutched his head to her body for a moment, feeling carnal joy pulse through her veins. He picked her up once more. He wasn’t built like a Chippendale or a bodybuilder; he was more slender, but he seemed to have effortless strength and grace, even in this cramped environment. They swung round so that she once again had her back to the door. He sat on the toilet seat and she looked down at his thick cock. From nowhere he produced a condom and snapped it on, then he reached forward and grabbed her bum and pulled her towards him. She straddled his thighs and, holding her skirt up on her stomach, she slowly moved downwards until she could feel the tip of his penis against her clit. She clutched his dick for a moment and then guided it to her opening before bending her legs and sliding all the way down the shaft.
She swallowed hard as he seemed to grow even larger inside her. She wrapped her arms round his neck and, for the first time, suddenly noticed that there was a window in the bathroom. “God, business class is amazing!” she whispered, as he gripped her buttocks once more and encouraged her to ride him, moving right to the tip of his cock and then all the way down to the base with each gliding movement.
Faster they went, him thrusting powerfully now, his body actually above the seat, her feet off the floor as he lifted her just an inch or so in the air, entirely supported by his arms and his cock. He took one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked it hungrily, enveloping it in his mouth, and she knew she was close. Harder he plunged inside her and harder she rode, forcing herself down on him and pushing up on his shoulders each time she rose in the air. She heard him moaning louder and she bit at his neck to try to stop herself from screaming. And then, from deep within
, she felt the orgasm washing over her. She clung harder to his neck and he dug his hands ever deeper into her arse, his thrusts somehow finding new depths. She began to feel his whole being shudder as he started to come and she let go completely, kissing him deeply, allowing the contorted, beautiful, helpless moan of her orgasm to pass almost silently into his mouth.
Their bodies relaxed. He dropped to the seat, her head drooped over his shoulder, and they rested for a moment, breathing heavily. She felt pinpricks of sweat on his smooth back. He kissed her neck.
A moment later, they were giggling a little as they passed each other their discarded clothes and dressed themselves once more. Noting the rather lovely finish of the bathroom fittings at last, Helena looked in the mirror and was absolutely positive that it would be obvious to everyone that she had just had sex. Her hair was tousled, her face looked flushed and she wore an involuntary grin. She did her best to smooth everything out, but Adam was already saying they needed to get back to their seats.
Helena creaked the door open. No one was waiting to come in. She slipped out and a few moments later Adam followed. The stewardess who may or may not have spied Adam’s hard-on before they went in gave them a bit of a look, but it was a nice look, with a hint of a knowing smile. “She’s seen it all before,” whispered Adam as they sat back down. Helena blushed. They began to watch a film, but halfway through, she fell asleep.
The remainder of the flight was not quite so exciting, but still pretty wonderful. More great food that she never thought would be possible on a plane, a good film, some more sleep, plus Adam’s occasional affectionate touches and his entertaining conversation. She didn’t really want the plane to land, for it all to be over. Yet, of course, what goes up must come down.
Sex with a Sting: Six Erotic Fantasies with a Kink in the Tail Page 2
