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I’ve always been terrified of
flying. The sound of the jet engines revving and the tilt of the plane as it
takes off sends chills up my spine and sweat into my palms, as my life flashes
before my eyes. But my fear turned to excitement when I met Christopher.
I was on a business trip from
San Francisco to Los Angeles, and was wearing my finest pale pink Chanel suit.
I took my window seat and began reading the L.A.
Times to calm my nerves when Christopher sat down in the aisle seat. Out of
the corner of my eye, I noticed his dark brown hair, smooth tanned skin. He
wore black jeans and a white t-shirt that showed off the muscles in his arms.
He made a witty comment about
the day’s headline and when I turned to respond, I was nearly speechless. He
looked like a Calvin Klein ad. He flashed a sparkling smile and asked me my
name.
From that point we made
pleasant conversation, until the plane was positioned on the runway. I began to
get that familiar nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Is something wrong?"
he asked seriously, noting the color suddenly drain from my face.
“I really hate flying—especially
taking off—and I start to think catastrophic thoughts," I rambled
anxiously. "I know I shouldn’t be afraid, they say that your chances of dying
in a car wreck are greater than—"
He cut me off mid-sentence.
"Just give me your hand."
I stretched my arm across the
empty middle seat and felt his warm, firm hand take hold of my sweaty paw.
Slowly he began massaging the palm of my hand, working his way along my fingers
while he soothed my frazzled brain with his deep, sensual voice. He told me
that he was an actor, and that he was flying down to L.A. for a casting call.
He’d had several small bits in some Hollywood films, but no big break yet. As
he filled me in on the ups and downs of Tinsel Town, I noticed that the flight
attendants were coming down the aisle with cocktail service, and I was still in
one piece. Talk about a smooth takeoff.
"To pay my rent between
gigs, I work as a massage therapist,” Chris said.
"Is that why you give
such good hand?" I couldn’t believe those words just came out of my mouth.
The hand massage may have calmed my fears but it started a fire between my
legs.
“That’s not all I give,” he
laughed.
I ordered a Bloody Mary and he
ordered a scotch. I gave him my other hand for a rubdown. I kept thinking of
that movie Emanuelle, where Emanuelle
fucks a stranger on an airplane. As he sipped his scotch and stroked my hand, I
fantasized about following him into the airplane bathroom. In that tiny cramped
space, I’d get down on my knees and take his cock all the way down my throat.
The sound of the engines would
be deafening as he’d pump my mouth with his dick and finally fill my mouth with
his sweet cum. Or maybe I should just start rubbing his crotch right now. After
all, my hand was only inches away from his zipper and under the tray-table,
nobody could see. But before I could make a bold move, I heard the pilot’s
voice again, telling us to put our seat backs in an upright position and make
sure our seatbelts were buckled. The 45-minute flight that used to seem like
eternity, was over much too soon.
Chris and I exchanged cards. I
wanted to give him my hotel number, but it wouldn't have mattered since he was
flying back to San Francisco later that afternoon. As the plane pulled into the
gate Chris reached over and ran his hand along the inside of my silk stockinged
thigh and looked straight into my eyes and said, “I’m going to find out how the
rest of your body feels." Then he slipped out of his seat and walked off
the plane.
When I returned home almost a
week later, there was the message on my machine from Chris. I called him. He
invited me over to his place. I drove like a madwoman and nearly totalled the
car behind me trying to park. Running down the street, my purse flew open and
everything crashed onto the sidewalk. When Chris finally opened the door, he
took one look at me and said, "Are you always in a state of tension?”
"I like to think of it as
a state of excitement,” I smiled. He ran his hands over my shoulders and pulled
me close to him. His lips were full and soft and his tongue probed every inch
of my mouth. “I think you need a soak in my hot tub,” he whispered.
Chris lived in a large
apartment complex, and the outdoor swimming pool and hot tub were in the
center. The hot tub was supposedly closed at 10 PM, but Chris turned on the
jets and the tub lights, reassuring me that he always took late-night dips. We
both took off our clothes and stepped into the warm water.
His Greek-statue body was more
than I could handle and we immediately began groping, fondling, stroking and
kissing. I reached down and caressed his rock-hard penis as his experienced
hands squeezed my floating breasts. I could feel the hot water shooting out of the
jets against my back, and Chris turned me around to face them.
"I want you to spread
your legs and put your clit right up against that jet,” he said as he tongued
my ear. I eagerly obeyed. I grabbed the side of the tub and positioned myself
in front of the jet. The force of the water pounding against my hard clit made
me want to cum right away. I could feel Chris’ hands start to pinch my nipples,
then move down and begin to finger my boiling pussy. One then two, then three
fingers worked in and out of my cunt. I let my head fall back against his chest
when he slid a finger up my ass. He was pumping both of my holes now, fucking
my pussy and my asshole with amazing dexterity.
I fucked his fingers
furiously, spreading my legs as wide as I could, begging him to shove another
finger up my ass as the hot water gushed out all over my clit. The thought of
the other tenants watching us fuck is what ultimately drove me over the edge. "Oh
yeah, oh yeah," was all I could mumble when I came so hard I thought I’d
break one of his hands.
His fingers slid out of me and
I turned around to give him a loving thank-you kiss. Then he pulled himself up
and sat along the edge of the hot tub and began handling his hard dick. "I
think I need a cock massage," he said.
From my position in the water,
I took his cock in my hand and stroked it from the shaft to the head while I
licked the inside of his thighs. I licked and kissed every inch between his
legs, until I reached his balls. I flicked the tip of my tongue against his
balls, teasing him and listening to the involuntary moans escape from his lips.
I ran the width of my tongue
from his asshole to the base of his cock, making his balls warm and wet with my
saliva, keeping the rhythm going with my hand. Drawing out every erotic second,
I finally worked my way up to his beautiful tool and was ready for a feast. I
wrapped my lips around the head and fed myself his huge rod. Slowly I swallowed
every inch until his cock was buried in my throat. I began to suck him off
faster, still jacking him off with my hand at the same time. I could feel his
muscles tense and his hips ram against me, as he fucked my face harder and
harder.
"Oh baby, I want you to
see me cum,” he moaned as he pulled his cock out of my mouth and squirted all
over his chest. I reached up and rubbed it over his well-defined torso, keeping
my hand on his cock and slowly, slowly, letting my strokes bring him back to
earth.
Minutes later wrapped in our
towels, we were collecting our heap of clothes, turning off the hot tub jets,
and putting on the tub cover, making sure not to leave any telltale sign of our
tryst.
"So are you going to
invite me to spend the night?" I inquired, putting him on the spot.
“Definitely. But I have to
catch an early plane to Los Angeles tomorrow for another audition."
"I’d love to go with
you," I replied dreamily.
"You know flying is my
favorite sport. And maybe we can do it on the plane this time!"
—Isabella B.
