Augustus Hewitt was brooding in a small halo of light one mile in the air surrounded by dozens of sleeping strangers. TransAmerica Flight 387 had left San Francisco just before midnight bound for Washington DC's Ronald Reagan Airport.
Fucking red eyes.
He threw back the remains of his second gin and tonic and crunched on one of the ice cubes. The walrus shaped man next to him was snoring, causing his substantial mustache to flutter like an angry hedgehog. His head was lolling to the side so that he was almost breathing on Augustus.
Fucking red eyes.
It was the perfectly awful ending to a perfectly awful day. Augustus had arrived in San Francisco the previous night to close out a big contract for his firm—big as in a lot of zeros to it. He had failed... spectacularly. There's no need to go into detail about it because odds were he would be fired within 24 hours. To be fair, Augustus hated his job. His father, now retired from the same firm, had landed the job for him thanks to some good ol' fashion nepotism.
Ah crap
, Augustus thought.
I'm going to have to explain this to Dad at some point
. Just add it to growing list that helped label Augustus as the black sheep in the family. Parents: wealthy, retired, and three kids (though one was a fuckup). Older sister: Married to a venture capitalist and sailing enthusiast named Todd with their own three beautiful kids (no fuckups yet). His twin brother (older by one minute): Married to a stunning angel with three beautiful kids (no fuckups either).
So Augustus brooded in a wrinkled suit with his half undone tie crunching on ice. To top it off, he'd never been able to sleep on a plane so it was going to be a long night.
In fact, the only good thing that had happened to him today was that one of the Flight Attendants had given the safety demonstration right next to his seat (7C, aisle seat two back from the dividing curtain to First Class). This particular Flight Attendant happened to have an ass so luscious, it strained the seams of her grey slacks with every movement. Augustus had stared at it for a good two minutes out of its periphery. It had almost been worth sitting next to heavy-breathing walrus man.
Augustus closed his eyes to imagine that voluminous ass again when he heard a clink on his plastic tray table. He opened his eyes to see the same Flight Attendant, who had just set down two more mini bottles of gin. She seemed to be glowing through the haze of his overhead light.
"Oh, I actually didn't order that," Augustus said staring up at the vision.
"I know. Looks like you could use 'em though," She said in a whisper and walked by. Augustus couldn't help but lean out into the aisle to watch the beauty of her hips swaying back and forth expertly so as not to knock any of the sleeping passengers, but enough to make each cheek trade turns straining against the cursed fabric. Farther up, her auburn hair swung similarly back and forth in a sleek ponytail.
Augustus leaned back into his seat with a pleasant sigh before finding walrus-man was now leaning even more heavily into his seat. He poured the two bottles of Gin into his cup and downed them in quick succession. It wasn't long before he could feel the tension start to leak out his body to be replaced by the welcomed warmth of the booze.
Ten minutes later after Gus had successfully nudged walrus-man in the other direction, the same Attendant walked past his seat on the way back up the aisle.
"Oh, miss-" he stage whispered. She turned around and Augustus was struck by the beauty that extended far beyond her ass. She had a warm, easy smile that seemed to be giving off more light that the bulb above his seat. He noticed the white blouse of her uniform was straining as much as her pants, and she had a red sash tied around her neck to add a bit of flare.
"I just wanted to thank you," he said holding up the empty bottles. "You were absolutely right, they were just what I needed after the day I had. You're the breast—I mean best! Best! Oh fuck," Augustus let his head fall into his hand, horrified.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and opened his eyes hesitantly. She was laughing silently to herself so she wouldn't wake up the other passengers.
"Don't worry about it," she said while all Augustus could think was,
don't look at her cleavage, don't look at her cleavage
, which was spectacular and in full view as she leaned over with her hand on his shoulder. "That's the first time I've laughed all night so thank
you
. I'm Samantha Stewart," she continued in a whisper, holding out her hand.
"Augustus Hewitt," he said, taking hers. Her hands were soft, but her handshake was surprisingly firm. "I'm going to blame the slip of the tongue on the free Gin."
"Who said it was free? That stuffs expensive Gus." Augustus stared back at her at a loss for words, before she smiled. She stood up and looked at the sea of sleeping passengers. "You want to see something fun Gus?"
Alcohol soaked mind running wild (
Your ass and breast without that uniform on, yes please!
), Augustus composed himself and casually replied, "Sure."
She nodded her head toward the first class curtain and slinked her way through. Gus swallowed hard and made to stand up. "Oof!" he moaned. Then, remembering to unlatch the seatbelt this time, he got up steadily and followed through the curtain.
It was empty, aside from Samantha standing several rows ahead looking back at him.
"What the hell," Gus said looking around. "Where are all the people?"
"All part of some construction company from Shanghai that missed their connection," she said with a shrug. "It's a red eye and we really didn't want to go through the hassle of bumping people up, so here we are. I hate red eyes."
"I never thought people could hate red eyes more than me, but I guess I never thought about the people who have to stand and work through them," Gus said.
"That's because you're an asshole Gus," Samantha said with a smile, folding her arms. This only served to push up her already gravity defying breast. The strain was too much and a top button miraculously popped off. "Oh damnit," she cried.
Just then, the plane jolted furiously and Gus lost the view as he was thrown sideways into a row of First Class seats. There were some cries of surprise from people waking up back on the other side of the curtain. Almost instantly, the seatbelt light dinged above them.
"
Errrladies n Gentleman this is your Captain speaking. We seem to have hit a patch of turbulence. Please keep your seatbelts fastened and we'll steer ourselves around it.
"
Gus made to get up from the seat, but felt himself being pushed back down by a firm hand on his stomach. Gus instantly tried to suck in his gut, which had softened over the years. He couldn't even remember the last time he had exercised. When he looked up however, he was greeted by the incredible view of Samantha's chest, now partially liberated by the button and jiggling with each rumble of turbulence.
"You just relax Gus," she said standing up straight to his dismay.
"But I'll need to get my briefcase."
"I'll bring it up once I get the rest of the passengers settled." And with that, she disappeared back behind the curtain. Gus began drifting off, but woke up minutes later when he felt something knock his feet. Lifting his head he saw Samantha reaching up to place his briefcase in the overhead compartment. As she stretched, the front of her white blouse came un-tucked and Gus saw a sliver of black lace peaking just above the waistline of her grey pants. It was the last thing he saw before drifting off to sleep for the first time in his life on an airplane.
The fantasies raging through his head slipped into his dreams. He dreamt that Samantha was bent over the plane's food trolley in the empty first class cabin. Gus walked up behind her, reached around and unbuttoned the front of her grey pants. She gave a satisfied sigh. She reached up behind herself, looped her thumbs through the back of the pants and pulled down tantalizingly slow. Her heavenly ass slipped out inch by inch, then all at once with a welcoming jiggle. A lacy thong barely concealed the already damp mound of her pussy. She looked back at Gus. "Do it," she said in a distant voice. "Do it now." Gus realized his pants were already off and his cock was throbbing only inches away.
"Oh Samantha," he moaned rolling over in his seat. Then in horror, he realized he was once again lying across two, wide first class seats. He looked up to see a grey haired, matronly flight attendant staring down at him with a shocked expression on her face.
"Sir,... I... the Captain is landing now. For the last time, please sit up and buckle your seat. Do it now. You..." she looked down, and then looked away, "you need to sit up and ... and for heaven's sake please do something about that!" she finished, pointing down at Gus's pants before stalking away.
Gus looked down to see an erection of epic proportions straining against the front of his pants, which was creating an embarrassingly obvious tent below his leather belt.
"Oh shit," he muttered, scrambling up and trying in vain to push his dick back down. Finally, he settled with buckling his seat and simply folding his hands over his crotch, filling his head with images of baseball, paperwork, and the matronly flight attendant as best he could to drain the blood from his erection. It took the entire fifteen minutes of the decent for his bulge to recede.
When they had finally landed in Regan National, Gus stood up in his completely crumpled suit, his balls slightly blue and sore, grabbed his suitcase and walked toward the exit of the plane.
Samantha Stewart, the world's greatest flight attendant and future subject of Gus' masturbation fantasies was standing at the exit. She brought her right hand up in salute. "It's been a pleasure riding with you Augustus Hewitt," she said with a radiant smile.
"Thank you for everything," Gus said, doing his best to focus on her face this time. "Best redeye of my life."
