Cold Airports Warm Breaths

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath. I take a quick glance and he looks frustrated, looking at his laptop, shaking his head in disbelief. I wonder what he does. Maybe he's in upper management, just learning a major acquisition fell through. Or maybe he's nice; maybe he fundraises for a non-profit and he just can't find a venue for the next gala. Whatever it is, it's pissing him off and I get it. I'd be pissed off too if I had to be in the airport, waiting, bored out of my mind, and had to deal with work.

I try to look away from his laptop so as to not seem nosy. My eye drifts to his clothes. They seem clean, ironed. I wonder if he irons his own clothes. His gray slacks fit perfectly, sitting clean at the top of his polished shoes. His baby blue shirt with the rolled up sleeves makes him look like a caricature of the middle aged office worker, but it still makes my stomach tighten at how it fits him.

He takes care of himself.

His hair is effortlessly stylish, with strands of gray and white revealing his age. My thoughts begin to drift, wondering how his salt and pepper hair would look between my thighs, my hand running through them.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his eyes staring into mine. Idiot.

"I'm so sorry I completely zoned out," I blurt out, embarrassed. I feel my face getting hot. "I was so deep in thought, I'm sorry"

He chuckles a little. He has a hot laugh, I think to myself and instantly cringe at the stupid thought.

"That's alright," he shrugs and sighs. "It's hard to focus in an airport"

I nod along. We both linger for a second, I see him looking at me, deep in thought perhaps. For a second, we look at each other wondering if either of us is going to say anything else, and then it's over. He goes back to work and I'm sitting there wondering if he's the type to smile when he fucks you.

I look back at my phone and try to scroll through mindless content, keeping myself just distracted enough. It's getting colder and colder in the airport, and I'm thinking how funny it would be if his seat was next to me on the plane. Maybe we'll strike a conversation, maybe I can catch a whiff of his cologne, maybe I can see a dick imprint on those fitted pants.

He probably sits in business class anyway.

Another sigh, this time louder, stronger. I look up at him but he's looking at the board. I try to see what he's seeing, and I see the red words printed next to our flight: DELAYED.

As soon as I see it, the intercom starts to explain. It's a short delay, there's just too many planes trying to find landing. 30 minutes, they promise, but this cold unforgiving airport is never certain.

He turns and glances at me, looking me up and down. I meet his eyes, and shake my head a little. This is what he wants, right? A place to share the disappointment?

"I'm gonna miss my meeting like this, and they're already annoyed with me," he says. I'm not sure what to say, I've never been in a business meeting, but in movies, the stakes are high.

"It's always something with airports," I say, deflecting, "and it's so boring waiting here"

He nods along, reaching and closing his laptop, slowly packing away his papers and things into the bag. "You look like you're here on vacation," he says.

"Do I?" I chuckle. Is it really that obvious?

"You're not hectic, checking your phone or taking calls. No stress radiating off of you," he says, "that and pretty young girls like you coming here are usually students and tourists"

I cover my face with my hands to hide my face. How do people have the guts to say something so forward? I'm not sure if I like it or hate it.

I look back at him and he seems amused, smiling. "Thank you, I think," I say. His smile widens.

"What happens to your meeting?" I ask.

"I sent over everything they needed. It's not my problem anymore." He says, but I can sense the worry in his voice. I don't say anything, letting him take it in.

Intercom, again.

"Flight 2105 to Montreal, there has been a gate change to ensure timely boarding. Please make your way to gate 53B. Those who require assistance please visit the information desk."

Unbelievable. I always thought sunny days like this meant no problem with your flight but I guess mismanagement can happen any time.

He looks down at me again, scanning my face, my body.

"Do you know where the new gate is?" I ask him, desperate for interaction.

"Follow me" he says, picking up his bag. I fumble around with my things, picking up all the little bits I have to carry, and hurry behind him.

"So you are a tourist?" He says.

"Just because I don't know that specific gate?" I say, acting offended.

He smiles. "That and you didn't correct me before. Unless you're a student.." he looks at me.

I nod, but he doesn't see. "I'm both. I'm a student in Montreal actually."

He glances at my outfit, then keeps walking. I get a little worried. Did I say something wrong?

I just walk alongside him, slightly hurried. He finally focuses back, and puts my worries to rest.

"You don't dress like Montreal students," he says.

"What do we dress like?"

"I don't know," he says, "winter jackets and ugly messy boots?"

That one makes me laugh. He looks a little amused, a little offended. "In Summer?" I gesture to everything. "I think style rules have changed."

He smiles at me. "So you're not Canadian?" I ask him.

He shakes his head. "I go often for work but no, I love this city too much."

"You just like all the young girls ready to sleep with anyone to save on rent" I joke.

His smile fades and I curse myself for my stupid remark. Being forward is not my forte, clearly.

"You're right, they do like my apartment" he finally admits "Are you trying to tell me you wouldn't do the same if I had a 3 bedroom in downtown Montreal?"

I would. But I don't tell him that. He's not wrong, rent is ridiculous.

"This isn't about me," I joke, "at least they get to save on rent. I'm out here getting nothing in return."

His smile is back. It suits his face. His eyes wrinkle with his smile and it's the most attractive thing I've ever seen.

I finally see the gate. I thank him for showing it to me and walk over to a seat near the outlets. It has a good view of all the nearby seats, so I can obsess in peace from afar.

But he doesn't seem to go away. He follows me; I'm surprised to say the least. I mean fantasizing is one thing, but I don't know if being friends with a guy one to two decades older than me is the goal here.

How old is he anyway?

He sits down right next to me, and I can feel it. I can feel the body heat, I can hear his breathing, I can smell his cologne. He smells good. Why would he sit so close to me?

I look at him to my right, and catch him staring down, right into my cleavage. I guess that explains why he would sit so close to me.

His eyes dart up quickly, and he looks at my eyes. I bet he's panicking a little, wondering if I caught him.

"If I wasn't so busy, I'd ask you to show me your favorite spots in Montreal" he says.

"You just wanna see me in my winter jacket," I say. It makes him laugh, and it's a glorious laugh. I'm tempted to ask if he's the type to smile when he cums, but that'd be crossing a line.

"You're funny and attractive. At least if I had a Montreal apartment you'd want to see me too" he says.

I look at him. His cheeks are a little pink. Is he blushing?

"I might be too young for you" I say, even though what I really wanna say is that I don't care. He's just the right age for me.

He doesn't respond for a bit. I look at him, and he stares back. A little smile on his lips, but reserved, careful. He's evaluating me, himself, the situation.

I decide to do the boldest thing I can do, which is just to take the quickest glance down. I don't know if he'll sit next to me on the plane, but here he is now. If I can just take one glance, I'll know.

And there it is, maybe not an imprint but a bulge. Big, clean, a mound of pure bliss under those pants.

I could swear it was a fraction of a second, but it made my stomach flip, tighten, go crazy. And I think he saw because as soon as I look back up, there's a shine in his eyes. Something determined, mischievous.

He holds the eye contact for what feels like long minutes, and then drops them to look directly at my cleavage. He breathes out, hard, and bites the inside of his cheek. My eyes follow his, desperate. He finally looks back up, and there's a hint of a smile.

He leans in to whisper something in my ear, making sure the other seats don't hear us, and my body freezes. His warm breath tingles on my ear, heats up my cold desperate body.

"Let me show you how I treat girls I like," I feel my whole body burning up, feeling the temptation, the anticipation.

Then he gets up, leaves his things, and walks across the hall. I watch him take one last look at me and walk into the all-gender family washroom.

My heart is beating like it never has. Does he expect me to go there? Didn't people see him go in right now?

I look around but everyone seems to be in their own little world. Am I really going to do this? In a washroom, it just feels trashy. But I'm so needy.

I get up after what feels like forever, and put my knick knacks down on the seat. Is it okay to leave them? My heart is racing, my breathing feels abnormal, and I feel an amazing mix of fear and adrenaline. My stomach is filled with butterflies and I'm desperate to see how one skinny man can fill those work pants that much.

I walk over and firmly push the door. At first I don't see him, but he pushes the door shut and I turn to face him.

"You really shouldn't flirt with strangers," he says.

I shrug, smiling. I'm too terrified to open my mouth, and I wish he would just take the lead and make me feel the bliss I'm so desperate for.

He reaches out and slides his hand behind my waist. My skin feels electric. I shudder all over, and my heart skips a beat when he pulls me to himself with all his force.

His other hand grabs my ass aggressively, like he's been waiting to cop a feel for years.

Before I know it, his lips are on mine. He kisses me with all his force, never soft, but full of passion, trying to consume me and all I have to give. It feels amazing. Like he would die if I stopped biting his lower lip.

His hands are both on my ass now, groping me hard, and I can't help but moan into his mouth. With every moan, he gets more determined, aggressive.

He pulls them apart, and I feel his hand make its way down. He finally stops kissing me, and catches his breath. He's smiling wide, taking short breaths.

"Is this too much for you?" He asks, sliding his hand over my hole from the back. I feel my knees get weak, my mind going blank. I shake my head hard, and drop it on his shoulder. His cologne fills my nose, and I feel like I'm drowning. My shaky breaths on his neck, I'm worried about my blush staining his baby blue shirt.

He's feeling me over my panties, soaked now, soiling his fingers. There's no technique to what he does. He just plays with me like it's a fun game, and it makes me lose it all the more.

And then he stops. I really don't want him to fucking stop, but he does. He slowly cups my face and gets me standing in front of him again. He's squishing my face now, holding it all distorted in front of him. I'm embarrassed but needy, and all I can think of is how bad my insides are itching for something to fill it.

He drops his hand to my neck, holding firmy, and slowly presses down. His eyes searching mine, I look back and not say anything. He pushes me back against the door, and his other hand slides down again, this time faster, swift motions on my clit. It's driving me crazy.

Every time I squirm, moan, or move, his grip on my throat tightens.

"You look fucking desperate," he whispers, tightening a bit more.

All I can do is make muffled noises. The sensation runs through my body, shivers through my spine. He still makes no effort to undress me in any capacity, just desperate to make me feel good. I want to see all of him, feel all of him, inside me. I want him to see all of me.

In one quick moment, he stops. He stops it all and pushes his lips onto mine again. I moan into his mouth, rubbing my legs together to keep the sensation going.

"Did you like that princess?" He says, stepping back. I nod, feeling my face get hot.

"I'd like to... um.." I don't know how to phrase anything without stuttering.

"What is it?" He tilts his head.

"I'd like to make you feel good too." I say, looking down.

He laughs. There it is. I feel the vibrations of his laughter in my pussy, slowly dripping and soiling my panties.

"Plenty of time for that" he says, winking at me.

I want to point out that there isn't much time, our flight will board soon anyway, but I decide to bite my tongue. I don't want to upset a man that calls me princess with my unnecessary shoddy nerves.

"Pull your skirt up," he nods down to my mini-skirt. I should've known it was short to an inappropriate amount. I slowly pull it up, thinking about how much hotter it is to just pull it up instead of taking it off completely. I never thought not being naked would be so sexy.

His hands touch my thighs, and slowly grab my panties. It's soaked and I'm embarrassed. I think about my other pair and how it's way too deep inside my luggage to change into easily. I'm embarrassed looking at it, covered in juices. If he fucks me now I bet it'll feel good for him though, soaked and warm. I hope he fucks me.

He drops my panties to my ankles, and I watch him as he kneels in front of me. This... isn't what I expected, but I'm looking down, my legs open, panties on the floor, and the hottest man ever kneeling in front of me ready for worship and it's driving me crazy. The butterflies in my stomach are losing their mind, and all I can think about is how I want to see his gorgeous hair in-between my thighs.

He moves his face closer to me and then hesitates. I can feel his shallow breaths, sending chills down my spine. The anticipation is everything; all I can think is how beautiful this angle makes him look until he puts his mouth on me, and I forget how to think.

He's holding me up with his hands digging into my hips, and the pleasure waves through me. He starts with licking me clean, taking in all the juices he's responsible for. His tongue, flat on my clit, feels like a slice of heaven. I feel my thighs shaking, my body shivering.

He's so... eager. It drives me crazy that he'd be this down and dirty for someone he just met. He must really like young pussy.

I grab his head and push him into me, my clit riding on his nose and his tongue playing with my hole. I can't stop myself from thrusting into his face. I'm not sure how he's breathing but it feels like I'm his fuel and he can't survive without me.

He drops his left hand and pushes two fingers inside me without warning. I gasp and pull his head back, looking at him. He's smiling, juices all over his nose and mouth. He looks a mess, but there's something so sexy about it. I can't wait to be on my knees for him.

He softly thrusts into me, upward motions, making me feel a knot in my lower stomach. I know he's taking a break but just being able to look at his face, soiled, focused on making me feel good is driving me crazy. He has that damn smile plastered all over, proud.

I feel my thighs get weaker, shake more. I don't know how much longer I can hold out. It feels so good I could cum any moment now.

"You're delicious," he says, chuckling. Even his chuckles are sophisticated, older. "Are you gonna cum for me, princess?"

I can't even answer him, but I'm sure everything about my body does. I'm focusing on his face, on the way his laugh makes me wet. Focused on how he was just some hot older guy at the airport, and now his face is dripping with my pussy juices. On how he's so skilled at making someone like me buckle and cum. Am I going to cum for a random guy I just met?

He pulls out and forces his face back in. He's sucking on my clit slowly and the pleasure is so intense I'm not sure how much longer I can hold out. I can't stop myself from squirming under his touch, his mouth. I can't stop panting and moaning under him, trying to keep my voice down.

He keeps going, never speeding up, never slowing down. The pleasure is rising in me, slowly seeping up, my heart rate rising, beating hard in my chest. My breathing gets faster and I can feel it creeping up on me. It feels good and I need to cum now. I want to cum now and ruin his sexy face even more. I want him to smell me all the way on the plane. I want to cum, I want to cum, I want to cum and it's all I can focus on.

And before I know it, it hits me. I yelp and can't help myself, covering my mouth shut as firmly as I can. I feel electric, my thighs shaking and my legs losing their power. He doesn't let go, licking my clit, and it's making me lose my mind more and more. Stop it, I wanna tell him, but I don't really want him to stop. I feel my mind going blank, completely losing control. He's still holding my hips with his hands, strong, letting me cum on his face. He goes over my hole and my clit with his tongue, and it feels like aftercare. Like he's letting me let it all out and calm down.

The burst is still going through my body, my mind still fuzzy. He's licking me softly, cleaning me, taking care of me, and it's the sexiest thing in the world. My breathing is calmer, slowly coming back to me.

He stops for a few seconds, and I feel his breathing on me again, before he goes back to sucking on my clit. Softer this time, slower.

It doesn't feel like too much but it's building up. He knows I can cum again, maybe lighter, and it would feel amazing. I press my thighs into his face, grabbing him hard. He looks beautiful like this, and I had no idea I could cum so hard standing up.

I feel the second wave hit me, lighter, but just as good. The cherry on top. I moan out as my whole body shakes again. My heart is in distress, beating out of my chest. This time he doesn't keep going, but licks me once to clean me and looks up at me.

I ruined his handsome face with my cum and I feel so proud of it. I crack a weak smile, and he puts a quick kiss on top of my clit before getting up and putting his lips on mine.

I can taste myself on him and there's really nothing hotter than this. Of course a guy like this would know everything a girl like me wants. He sticks his tongue inside my mouth and I love feeling him feel me. The same tongue that just made me cum is kissing me. I've never wanted someone to rail me as bad as right now.

"I hope you liked that," he says, pulling back and walking over to the sink. I laugh a little.

"Not bad."

"Not bad?" He sounds offended, but he's smiling "you were just cumming for me, looking all pathetic."

I roll my eyes. "You're the one who was on your knees."

He laughs, splashing water on his face, grabbing a paper towel.

"I hope you smell me the whole time on the flight" I joke.

"I know I will. I wish I could fuck you right now, but you know" he nods toward the door. I do know. We have to go.

I sigh, stepping out of my panties and fixing up my clothes. There's no point in trying to recover them now, covered in pussy juice and looking like a mess. "You owe me a new pair of panties" I say, realizing I probably don't have enough time to dig out my spare pair.

He turns off the faucet and looks back at me. "No problem, princess," he says. "I'd buy you all the panties in the world if you'd let me do this every time I wanted."

I chuckle at that. I love when older men are just a little pathetic and desperate. "You were good," I say, motioning to him outside "now get out of here, you know it's good hygiene to pee after something like this."

He rolls his eyes, and I think it's funny how that works. His tongue can be inside my hole but god forbid he hears me in the washroom. He steps out, and I sigh a sigh of relief. This way it's less likely people would notice us being in here together.