Mile High Club

Anything can happen when you’re thirty thousand feet in the air and you’ve had too much to drink. At least that’s what I learned while flying back from Japan on a routine business trip. A young intern fresh out of college, I was experiencing for the first time everything life had to offer. Graduating at the top of my class from Yale had earned me a damn good paying job with one of the biggest trading companies in the world. I guess my sacrificing the sex, drugs, and partying in college actually paid off, because while most of the other students were busy jacking off mommy and daddy’s hard earned money, I was busy burning the night oil and hitting the books. Always one to do my own thing, I never felt a need to join any sororities, debate teams, or any clubs period, to be honest. The drawback, though, was that I never really allowed myself the opportunity to do anything wild and spontaneous—women in my family just don’t do those things, my mother would often say. I can finally say that all of that changed a few weeks ago—and I’m not the least bit ashamed.

As I was saying, I was on my way back from Japan when I basically had a brush with my darker side. I had been in Japan a little over a week, and was looking forward to getting back state side, though I wasn’t looking forward to the flight itself. This was going to only be my second time on an airplane—the first being my flight over to Japan—and I was terrified. The trip going over there was full of so much turbulence that I thought the plane was going to drop out the sky. I kept praying the whole time, asking God to please let me make it to Japan in one piece. Now here I was all over again back in the airport getting ready to return home, when I noticed this handsome gentleman staring at me from the adjoining boarding line. He was fine if you like the pretty boy corporate type—clean shaven, suit, laptop and briefcase—you know the profile. He kind of reminded me of Christopher Williams from New Jack City—light skinned with good hair and enough sex appeal to give some away and not miss any. I didn’t let my eyes linger too long, though, because I was busy asking God to do me another favor and get me back to Tampa, safely.

The nice looking gentleman and I were among the first passengers to board the plane. By us being seated in the business first class area that was one of the best perks—along with recliner seats, champagne, and better tasting food than economy. Call it luck, fate—or just a plain miracle, but he and I ended up directly across the aisle from one another. Now only an arm’s length away, neither of us seemed to want to make it obvious to the other that a strong attraction was present— but there was no denying that it was. It was evident by the subtle way he would glance over at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking—or the casual way I would sneak peeks at his nice butt when he was putting his briefcase and sports coat in the overhead compartment. There was definitely chemistry between us.

Once everyone was on board—which wasn’t very many people—luckily I ended up having my row all to myself—as did the handsome gentleman. This was good especially since we were on a redeye flight. No one likes sharing a row with strangers—they tend to make annoying small talk when all you want to do is sleep. After the stewardesses went through their whole safety spill and whatnots, our plane was underway, and my first request was for a glass of champagne to help take the edge off. I’m what my friends call a lightweight—one or two wine coolers are enough to put a wobble in my step—so three glasses of champagne at such a high altitude was definitely overdoing it for me. I don’t know if it was the champagne or what, but the flight was going smoothly, no turbulence or anything. The handsome stranger was drinking Jack and Coke while watching a movie on his laptop.

After an hour or so up in the air the captain came across the intercom announcing that he was turning down the cabin lights and would see everyone in the morning. The stewardesses all made their final rounds through the plane to ensure everyone had enough pillows and blankets and didn’t need anything. Thirty minutes later and the few passengers that were in the business section with us were all fast asleep—giving the stewardesses a chance to space their aisle checks out to just once every hour or two. By this time the handsome stranger and I had were eye flirting intensely back and forth across the aisle. I had to have been drunk, because I had on a casual blue business skirt that I flirtatiously raised just above my thigh to reveal my matching blue thigh highs that stopped just below my satin panties. He smiled sneakily while taking a quick glance up and down the aisle, and then slid his laptop around on the tray table so that the screen was facing me. I didn’t know what he was doing at first, until the screensaver went away and a pornography movie began to play. My eyes and legs suddenly opened a little bit wider, giving him a full view of my panties, which were steady soiling over the longer the soundless movie played.

Before I could even second guess my next action I already had my fingers down between my legs pushing my panties to the side and rubbing my wet clit. The handsome stranger watched without making a sound as he zipped down his dress slacks and pulled out his swollen dick. Without speaking a word he took another look up and down the aisle to be safe, and proceeded to gently wrap his hand around the massive shaft and stroke it quietly. I slid my shoes off underneath the seat in front of me, and leaned my seat back, bringing both my feet up in my seat, and started seductively licking my lips while sliding my fingers in and out of my wet pussy. The stranger set across from me watching the show and beating his dick exuberantly, as I shamelessly fingered myself, the whole time darting my eyes back and forth from the movie to his dick and back again. From where I was sitting raw dick never looked so tempting, and it was about to get even worse when I leaned across the aisle and gave him an erotic whiff of my pussy juice fingers.

“Ahhhhh…” he exclaimed while sniffing each of my wet fingers with the passionate exuberance of someone smelling a sweet aroma. I don’t know what it was about watching him smell my fingers the way he did, but that kind of kinky boldness definitely had my floodgates wide open. There was no doubt in my mind that he was a born Bloodhound picking up my pussy’s trail. I was so turned on after that that I rushed those same fingers back up inside me and started humping the shit out of my hand. I was really getting into it, too, until he saw a stewardess coming up the aisle and started waving his hands for me to stop. He quickly closed the laptop screen down and threw a blanket over his lap and pretended he was sleeping, as I pulled my skirt down and did the same. When the stewardess made it to our sits she saw us pretending to be asleep and went on with her checks.

Once she was gone we both looked over at one another and started snickering to ourselves silently. He was making a tight fist with his hand to tell me that his dick was still rock hard, and that’s when I said to myself fuck it. I leaned my head out in the aisle for a quick visual sweep and saw that she was gone—so I looked to see if the lavatory was occupied before whispering to the stranger to follow me. Before getting up I slid my wet panties off and put them down in the seat pocket in front of me, and then got up and quietly made my way past the sleeping passengers in our section. When I made it to the bathroom door, I looked back and made momentary eye contact with the stranger before sliding inside. The bathroom was the size of a small Porta Potty, but that was fine by me—I raised my skirt and assumed the position in front of the mirror, with both hands on the sink. Not two or three minutes later the door opened and Mr. Big Dick squeezed in behind me and immediately went to work. He started kissing and breathing his hot breath all over the nape of my neck, while fumbling with his pants to get the zipper down and his dick out.

Airplane bathrooms weren’t designed to hold two people, therefore every movement we made was like dry humping. His dick was planted firmly between my ass cheeks as he grinded up against me, while lustfully squeezing and rubbing my small titties through my blouse. Seeing our reflection in the mirror as we got our rocks off was turning us both on—but the real thrill was knowing that at any moment someone could come banging on the door. All I could think about was feeling his dick inside me before that happened—so I reached back and let my hand become his tour guide along the wet trail leading to my pussy. My clit tingled insatiably as the tip of his dick inched closer and closer toward its destination, until bingo—it hit its mark—sending us both into a wild fuck frenzy.

Suddenly the bathroom was the only place on the entire plane undergoing turbulence, as our untamed lust for one another started shaking and rattling everything that wasn’t secured down. Love as far as we both knew it was now on vacation, and this was strictly an old-fashioned-hot-and-steamy-no-attachment FUCK. Never had I been manhandled so rough and raw like that before. He had my pussy drowning his dick in a never ending supply of pent up cum, as I worked my ass against it with what I considered to be my unleashed freak. After ten quick and excitement filled minutes of fucking me senseless, the stranger pulled out and buried his moan into my back while shooting his hot load all over my bare ass. His long muffled ecstasy cry vibrated throughout my body, as his cum went running down between the crack of my ass to mix with my own. We both were now desperately out of breath, and our once horny images in the mirror were now totally covered by a dense fog. After cleaning up as good as the tiny bathroom would allow we both went back to our seats in five minute intervals apart. The only evidence of our encounter that was left behind was the strong raunchy sex odor that lit up the small bathroom.

When we got back to our seats the only thing we exchanged were subtle glances here and there for the rest of the plane ride. No names were ever given—no after sex chitchat—and no more eye-flirting the whole way home. I guess the feeling was mutual that knowing such things would possibly spoil what had to have been the most incredible fuck of my young life. Sometimes knowing too much about a person is worst than not knowing enough. With that being said my family would probably disown me in a hurry if they knew I had such whorish tendencies underneath the innocent and reserved exterior I flaunt around from day to day.

Shame on them because as far as I’m concerned that was my official initiation into a part of life I’d been missing out on.

And if you asked me, I was just getting started…


© 2006 by Javon64