The Man from Tunisia

I’ve done a lot of traveling. Sometimes it seems like that’s all I do. My work requires it. So for years I had traveled several times a month; across country, out of the country – sometimes the occasional short trip just an hour or two away. But in all those years of traveling I’d never really had any kind of “adventure”. You know what I mean…. Like a sexy adventure and why would I? It was all business. Everything was planned, scheduled, timed and arranged… meetings and dinners and very little sleep and back on a plane and … then do the whole thing over again the next week.

Anyway – there was one trip that really changed my attitude about business travel. Ok so most of the time my flights were in the morning. I might have a short layover somewhere but it was never a big deal…. Most of the time I was where I needed to be by early evening. But one time I had a trip to Phoenix and for some reason had a layover in Atlanta. Anyway – this was the trip that changed everything.

I’ll never forget that morning. Nothing especially interesting happened, but when I got to the gate, I decided not to read or work, but instead I decided to just sit there watching and listening to the people around me. There was a man standing by the window. He caught my attention because he just stood there with one hand in his pocket – the other holding a cup of coffee – and I watched as the steam from his cup curled up and around his face while he looked out across the tarmac.

He wore a grey suit and his hair was cropped very short so that he almost looked like he was in the military. He had his jacket draped over one arm – the one with his hand in his pocket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up slightly revealing dark, thick arms and brawny hands with long, slightly tapered fingers.

My observations were interrupted when I noticed that we were starting to board.

On the plane, I squeezed into my seat by the window and felt hopeful that maybe I wouldn’t have anyone sitting next to me. But I was wrong. That very same guy I’d been watching at the gate, was suddenly right there – just a few inches away and I just happened to be sitting on his seat belt.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he reached down towards my leg, “but can I just … pull this …”

“Oh, yeah – I’m sorry – here ya go,” I answered as I lifted up and pulled his seatbelt out from under my thigh.

He smiled … a very attractive smile, his white teeth contrasting beautifully against his dark, velvety skin. And so the flight began: I assumed my regular window-seat position – legs crossed tightly, elbows flattened to my sides as I opened my book. And he assumed the usual man-in-isle-seat position: knees opened and resting comfortably to the sides, elbows on the armrests – relaxed.

At first I was annoyed. I mean granted – he was a big guy. He was easily 6’2”, so his long legs didn’t really fit in that tight little area. If he didn’t open his legs to the sides his knees would be crammed into the seat in front of him. And … the longer I sat there I also realized that if he didn’t open his legs as he did – I wouldn’t have the pleasure of feeling them against mine. Even with my legs crossed, his right knee rubbed against mine. So I readjusted – mostly out of modesty – in order to make space. But again – I felt his leg! There was no way I could concentrate on my book at this point, but when I looked at him – he was completely absorbed in his! This was too much. Now I was filled with this mixture of subtle irritation and flirtatiousness.

So – I uncrossed my legs and figured I reclaim some of my space rather than making more for him. When I did this – my left knee and calf were nearly flush against his. And I could feel the contour of his muscles though the fabric of his pants. Still – he never looked up! Nothing! He just kept reading. And then – he lifted his heel off the ground to stretch, squared his shoulders a little and after this little adjustment – he let his leg rest even more squarely against mine. But through all that – no change in demeanor – no glance in my direction – nothing.

SERIOUSLY!? I thought. I knew there was no way this could all be such a casual, accidental physical connection. Not a chance. Not with this guy. So I decided to be just a little more bold; I put my elbow against his on the arm rest and pretended to be just as consumed by book as he was.

Now with my tiny arm rubbing against his, I decided to ever so subtly cross my right leg over my left and let the tip of my toes curl around his calf. At this point I noticed out of the corner of my eye – that he stopped reading and actually turned to face me. But I pretended not to notice. Instead I rubbed my toes and the top of my foot against his leg. Then I let my shoe fall to the floor and tucked my toe into the bottom of his pants leg so that I could feel the warmth of his skin against mine. He was still looking at me but I kept pretending to read until I felt his on my knee.

When I looked over at him he was all business – focused – determined – intense. And holding his gaze I asked, “So where are you from?” As though nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Tunisia,” he said without blinking.

“You don’t have an accent,” I said seductively as I caressed his leg with my foot. “I grew up here,” he answered and snaked his fingers under the hem of my skirt.

I could feel my skin begin to flush – my cheeks redden and grow hot. Then, I held my book with one hand and gently brushed the back of my other hand against his upper arm letting it swirl against the white of his starched shirt. He glanced down at my hand and after a moment he leaned towards me and whispered, “I have a 3 hour layover in Atlanta.”

I had never, ever been excited about a layover – but that day I could have burst into flames right there in my seat I was so overwhelmed with passion and excitement.

So we landed in Atlanta. And as we taxied to the gate he continued to fondle my knee and thigh and higher … dangerously close to my very moist panties. Meanwhile, I nuzzled his shoulder and caressed his firm upper arms, all the while purring and whispering to him as he told me what we would do as soon as we got off the plane.

He’d say in his low, smoky voice, “Now … when we get into the airport, I want you to follow me. I have an idea. Do you like that?”

And I’d purr, “mmmmm – Hmmmm, in response.

“And you’ll follow me out of this terminal into a more open part of the airport.”

I felt high with excitement and squeezed him as I felt his hand reach my panties.

“Remember not to walk too close behind me. I’ll keep checking behind me to be sure you’re there. Is that ok?” And this continued until we finally left the plane into the crazy, crowded expanse of the airport.

I followed him through the terminal as he’d asked me to do watching him stride through the crowds effortlessly – glancing over his should from time to time to see if I was still there. He led us through the maze of shops and restaurants – from one terminal to the next until we came to an opening – like a clearing – with huge windows and an art exhibit. He turned to enter it, and I followed him as he led us through enormous sculpture and installment art until we came to the windows. There, he turned left behind a partition. Behind it we were shielded from the windows, the light, the swarms of people. And once we were both in the comfort of that darkness he grabbed me and lifted me onto a table. I dropped my bags not caring a bit about the noise and wrapped my legs around his waist as he kissed me. I clumsily worked at the buttons on his shirt wanting to just rip them open when I felt him grab the crotch of my panties … my heart pounded and I could feel his knuckles against my sex as his stretched my panties far to one side. Leaning back slightly, I reached for his pants zipper, opened it and felt his massive cock nearly quivering it was so stiff from arousal. He took both hands and put them behind my back and helped me slide onto it … more slowly than I liked – but it was wide and even though I was plenty wet I still had trouble accommodating him.

Once inside, he leaned over me. I let myself fall back onto the table and, grabbing his well-formed buttocks – pulled him forcefully into me. He went so deep my eyes rolled back in their sockets and I felt my whole body tense up about to cum and then he stopped… He stopped and suddenly started moving in and out of me with a gentleness I don’t ever remember feeling with any other man. I shuddered as I felt the length of him slide in and out of me … making my lips swell to a pucker and I started begging him to go harder – but he wouldn’t.

He whispered…. “You want it harder, don’t you…”

“Please,” I answered

“You want me to go as deep and hard as I can?”

“God please,” I said – I wanted it so badly – I was on the brink of a mind blowing orgasm and he knew it.

And then, he stabilized me. He held my hips firmly in his hands and plunged so deep inside me the breath was forced from my lungs. And then he did it again, and again – rhythmically and I began to cum…. Moaning – feeling like I was melting from the inside out – dissolving into a puddle there on the table with this stranger giving me the greatest sexual pleasure of my life.

Afterwards, we stood there together in the darkness and he held my face in his hands and kissed me tenderly as though we were parting after having been together for years. We left the gallery and I watched him wade into the throngs of people – striding confidently and only once, briefly – he looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. I never even learned his name – this man from Tunisia – and after a moment or two he had completely disappeared into the crowd and was gone. And sadly - that was the last time I saw him.