Dear Diary Im A Traveling Man

Dear Diary, Feb 18, 20..

All persons are over 18 years of age

One of the best parts about being an international traveler is the interesting people you meet in airports, hotels or on a plane. Interesting maybe, but not necessarily nice. Today, I was booked on a flight from Los Angeles to Prague. It was to be quite a flight as we had to fly first to New York, then to Amsterdam with a long layover and finally on to Prague. I knew we were in trouble when the flight attendant closed the door, we backed away from the gate, and stopped. We sat there for a few minutes and the plane was pulled right back into the gate. Never a good sign.

There was some non-repairable problem with that plane, and we had to move to a different plane. The bad thing (or so I thought at the time) was the next flight wouldn't leave until after midnight. The good thing was this would be a special, direct flight with no stopover. Because it was a special and a different plane, the seating was different and not everyone with a first-class ticket would get to stay in first class.

When we left the plane, we were directed to the transfer desk for new boarding passes. The man in front of me in line was the textbook 'ugly American.' Yelling and screaming because he had to be in Prague for a very important meeting blah blah blah. The attendant was trying to explain that she could put him on an earlier flight to get him in on time, but he would be in coach, in a middle seat. Of course, this was unacceptable as he had paid for first class...blah blah blah. But it would leave around 2100 - hours earlier than the other flight and it would be a direct flight. Or he could take the rescheduled flight and miss his meeting but have his first-class seat.

Well, the meeting must have been important because he took the middle seat in coach on the rescheduled flight, along with a refund for the difference in seating. When he was leaving the line, he turned to me and said "I hope you have better luck than I did. I'll have someone's job for this." I just replied that I had no meeting, so I could wait for the later flight. As I approached the clerk, I could tell she was nervous because she saw me talking to the ass that had been ahead of me. I began by apologizing to her. It was the best thing I could have done. She said I didn't have to apologize as I hadn't been rude. I explained that not all businessmen are like that, and I hoped she wouldn't think we were. Many of us are pretty laid back.

Well, she said thank-you and said she could get me to Prague on time if I wanted or I could take the later flight. I wasn't too excited about sitting in a middle coach seat, I told her. She just smiled and said she was sorry, there were no coach seats left on that flight, but if I was willing to settle for something else, she could put me in first class. I was wise enough to know the other guy had lost out because of his attitude. So, I smiled and said "yes, I supposed I could make the sacrifice."

A couple hours later, I was boarding the new flight. I had seat 5C. An aisle seat in the last row of first class with a bulkhead at my back. But being first class was only the first benefit of our cancelled flight. The second was the passenger in 5D.

Once the boarding rush stopped, I wondered if the seat next to me would remain empty. It didn't make sense, but it was possible. Just then a man walked on the plane, and he had to go 300 pounds or more. "Oh, hell no" I thought not for this flight. Please... He walked up to my row and hesitated. I just hung my head wondering what I had done to deserve having to sit next to him all the way to Prague. Then I heard this feminine voice with a beautiful eastern Europe accent say, "Excuse me."

The big guy stepped aside, and I looked up into the most amazing green eyes. She pointed at the seat next to me and said "5D?"

I stood up, or tried to, I forgot I had buckled the seatbelt, and I sat back down rather clumsily. She laughed a wonderfully musical laugh. I unbuckled the seatbelt and stood, letting her in. As she slid by me, I got a whiff of very expensive perfume. I also noticed she was wearing a designer silk blouse, obviously with no bra, and jeans that probably cost more than my salary. But they looked fantastic and looked like they were spray painted on with no panty line. And she was wearing heels. Of course she was, she was European. There is nothing so sexy as a beautiful woman in jeans and heels, unless it's a topless beautiful woman in jeans and heels.

After a while everyone got settled and we took off. Once we reached cruising altitude, the lights in the plane were turned off and many of us tried to sleep. I couldn't sleep. The beauty next to me had turned on her overhead light and pulled out a copy of

Marie Claire

. I finally gave up trying to sleep and hit the buzzer to order a glass of wine. When I flight attendant arrived, I asked my seat mate if she would join me for a glass of wine. She smiled that brilliant smile and said she would love a glass of white wine. We talked briefly as we waited for the wine. She asked why I was in L.A., and I explained my job. And told her that was why I was on a flight to Prague. There was a new center I needed to inspect. In return, she explained she had been in L.A. for a photo-shoot. I could believe that.

"Wow, I knew I was sitting next to a beautiful woman, but I didn't know you were a super model."

She smiled as our wine arrived. I handed her a glass and tipped mine to her, "Na zdravi."

She looked surprised that I offered a salutation in Czech, but she responded the same. "Na zdravi, yourself."

We each took a sip, and she continued our conversation, "I'm a model, not really a super model. I've never done the Victoria's Secret show," she said with a slight laugh. "But I've had my share of magazine covers and layouts with a few ads."

"I'm sure you won't be lacking for work. Truly beautiful women are too rare. And your smile lights up like a spotlight."

"Děkuji mnohokrát."

I took another sip and asked what the photoshoot in L.A. had been for. She replied, "It was lingerie layout for GQ."

"Maybe part of your pay should have been samples."

She gave me a quizzical look, "What do you mean?"

"Sorry, I couldn't help but notice that you are not wearing a bra...or panties."

She laughed that musical laugh again. "For lingerie shoots, we don't wear underwear to the shoot, so our skin is smooth and there are no wrinkles or creases. Since I didn't wear any there, I didn't have any to wear home. Hope that doesn't bother you. I know how some Americans can be about nudity...or near nudity."

Before I realized what was happening, my eyes looked down at her shirt where her nipples were sticking out like we were in a freezer.

"Fortunately, I'm not one of those Americans. I tend to have a more 'continental' viewpoint. I think you look great just the way you are. But feel free to undo a couple more buttons if you start feeling warm."

Again, that wonderful laugh, "I'll keep that in mind if I start getting hot."

"Well, all I can say is, if you are good enough for GQ, I find it hard to believe you haven't done the Victoria's Secret show."

"Eventually, maybe. Right now, I just do magazine layouts and covers. Occasionally, some ads. A girl has to keep busy."

Glancing down at the magazine in her lap, I noticed that she was on the cover of Marie

Claire

in her lap.

"It looks like you are on the right path. Even I know that

Marie Claire

is pretty big time. If you are on the cover, I should probably know you. Or at least, have heard your name."

"I don't think so. Most people not in the business, especially men, only know the super models who walk the VS show on television. That means about 10 names. But there are many of us you never heard of."

"Obviously, I'm missing out by not knowing the other names. I better expand my knowledge."

Our conversation continued until the glasses were empty, and second glasses were ordered. Then she opened her magazine again and started flipping through the pages. Since she went back to her magazine, I didn't try to talk to her anymore. But I did occasionally glance at the magazine as she was flipping through it. At one point, she stopped flipping and started reading. Out of curiosity, I glanced at the title of the article. It was

When Your Man's Not Around

...

25 Ways to Pleasure Yourself.

Interesting title.

As she read, I noticed her nipples started to get harder and her breathing got deeper and irregular. Then I saw that she had finished her wine and put the glass down. Her hand now free brushed her erect nipples before falling to her lap where she started to lightly brush the front of her jeans. Nothing bold. In fact, she may not have been aware she was doing it.

After about 15 minutes, I noticed her hand was becoming a little more active, aggressively rubbing her jeans between her legs. Suddenly, she took a deep breath and asked if I would let her out. Obviously, she was going to the restroom. After about 10 minutes, she came back with a smile & a sigh, hard nipples and some color in her cheeks. It was plain to see what she had been doing.

Never being one for shyness, and being reinforced by a few glasses of wine, as I got up to let her back into her seat, I asked, "Do you feel better now?"

She looked at me with a question in her face. "I beg your pardon?"

"After your bathroom activities. Do you feel better?"

"Of course, I feel better, but my bathroom activities are none of your business."

"I am sorry," I replied with a smile, "But, I didn't think that was a normal bathroom activity."

"Excuse me?"

Maybe I had overstepped a boundary. "I think you went in there because of your magazine."

"My magazine?"

"I saw what you were reading. Interesting article. You've been traveling, obviously without your man...and well, I think you just got horny and followed the advice of your magazine. As you were reading, your breathing was deeper, your nipples had gotten hard, and are getting hard again right now. Your hand was brushing the front of your jeans. And suddenly, you leave for the restroom and return smiling and with flushed cheeks."

Obviously embarrassed, she just looked at me and said, "You are very observant."

"Maybe, but I travel, too. So, I understand too well. I was going to offer assistance. But it appears from the color in your cheeks and the smile on your face, that you were successful and don't need any help."

Maybe the red in her face was embarrassment.

"It was as good as it could be...under the circumstances." Then she picked up her empty wine glass holding it up to get the flight attendant's attention. Then she returned to her magazine, but a different article.

At that point, I decided I also needed more wine. When the wine arrived, I handed one to her. She smiled, "Is that for me?"

"Of course, I told you I wanted to help. Wine always helps me."

After we each had two more glasses of wine, I was feeling brave enough. So, I whispered to her, "You know it could have been much better."

The wine must have also been hitting her, because her reply was slightly slurred. "I don't know how. I was in an airplane bathroom and my husband is in Prague."

"Maybe you just need to switch hands."

She giggled. "I doubt it. It doesn't seem to matter...right hand...left hand...it is all the same." And she set her empty glass down, turned off her light and covered herself with her blanket.

The wine was affecting me also, because I whispered in her ear, "Then maybe you should switch to my hands."

Then I set my empty glass down and grabbed my blanket, closed my eyes and tried to sleep again.

After about 10 minutes, she turned her light back on, and started reading her magazine again. After a few more minutes, she put the magazine down, turned off the light and reached under her blanket. I heard the zipper on her jeans sliding down and a few minutes later, her breathing changed again.

I leaned into her and again whispered in her ear, "My offer still stands. You should switch hands."

With semi-glazed eyes, she looked up at me and smiled. Since the window shades were down, it was very dark in our little corner. She dropped the blanket to her lap to show me she had unbuttoned three more buttons on her blouse, which meant it was held closed by only one button. Then she held her blouse open and flashed me a brief view of nearly prefect breasts.

"It is getting warm in here, and I'm getting very hot," she said as she undid the last button holding her blouse together. And completely opened her blouse exposing her breasts before pulling her blanket up to her neck.

"It is getting warm, and I am getting pretty hot also. Let me know if I can help in any way."

She smiled as she reached under my blanket, briefly stroking my now hard cock, before grabbing my right hand and pulled it under her blanket. Then she whispered," Maybe this will help both of us."

The heat was pouring from her body. As she guided my hand down inside her jeans, I could feel the soft hair shaped as a narrow landing strip. She guided my hand down until I felt the moisture coming from between her lower lips. My finger slid past her clit and reached the moisture. I began to probe her pussy and her breathing became even deeper.

First with just one finger, then a second finger.

"This seems to be working...(sigh) Don't stop. Please don't stop."

"Tell me when you want to cum."

"This feels so good...let me enjoy this feeling for a while...switching hands is wonderful...(sigh)...I'm getting close..."

My fingers went deeper and faster.

The flight attendant came by and hesitated for just a moment. She must have realized what was happening because she smiled when I winked at her, and she continued down the aisle.

I could feel my seatmate's hips begin to lift into my fingers. She held my arm and guided my hand. She was breathing faster and deeper. Her pussy was getting wetter and wetter. "Now, please. I want to cum now!"

I kept my fingers in her pussy and used my thumb to rub her clit until she exploded in my hand. She turned her head and buried her face in my neck moaning, "Oh my God! Again...can you do that again?"

So, I got my thumb wet from her gushing pussy and began to circle her clit again as my fingers continued to saw in and out of her pussy. In just seconds, she came again and this time she bit my shoulder to keep from screaming.

She pulled my hand from between her legs and sucked my fingers clean. Then she kissed me and said, "Thank you. You were right. Switching hands was the secret. That was much better than the restroom."

Then she put her head on my shoulder and sighed. I thought she was going to sleep.

But after a moment, I felt her hand slide under my blanket. She grabbed my cock through my slacks and started to slowed stroke it up and down. I thought I was hard before, but this gave new meaning to the word hard. I whispered, "You don't have to do this."

She just smiled and said, "Maybe you need to switch hands also."

I smiled as she somehow slid my zipper down with just one hand and reached inside my boxers, pulling out my cock. I doubt I could be any harder.

Her hand felt amazing as it slid up and down my cock. Loosely and then tighter. Slowly and then faster. Always varying her strokes. Yet, every stroke seemed to make me harder and harder.

Then, it was my breathing that was getting faster and deeper matching the speed of her hand which had started to maintain a faster stroke. Up and down...up and down...

She lifted her head and whispered in my ear, "You told me to switch hands and you made me cum. I want to see if switching hands works for you."

"Switching hands is working, but it will get messy if you don't stop. I won't be able to control myself."

"Don't worry, I'll control you," she said as her hand switched speeds again. Before I knew what was happening, her head slid from my shoulder to my lap under the blanket. I must have jumped a foot out of my seat as her mouth closed over end of my shaft. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up to see the same flight attendant, who asked, "are you alright? You jumped like something was wrong."

"Believe me, absolutely nothing is wrong."

She looked down and saw my blanket was moving. She looked at the seat next to mine and must have figured out what was going on because she smiled and left, saying. "I guess everything is alright."

My hand reached out and slid into the back of my seat mate's jeans. I realized she hadn't zipped them back up or I never would have been able to reach in. My fingers still retained some moisture from when she sucked them clean. So I slid my finger down between her ass crack until I found her little rosebud. It was amazingly tight, but I was able to probe in to the second knuckle. My finger seemed to have a mind of its own as I probed her ass and withdrew, only to repeat. Soon my finger was moving in time with her mouth on my cock.

She seemed to enjoy my finger in her ass. She was also obviously an expert at sucking cock. Her mouth continued to suck as it was sliding up and down my shaft. I could feel the end of my cock hit the back of her throat. Her nose rested in my pubic hair for a few seconds before she drew back and licked my length before drawing me back into her mouth.

I tapped her on her shoulder and whispered, "You are amazing...and I'm getting close...very close...very very close..."

Instead of pulling her mouth off, she took me deeper and her hand went even faster and faster until I finally exploded in her mouth. I slid my finger as far into her ass as it would go. She continued to suck until I was completely drained. It was all I could do to not shout "OH MY GOD!" But I managed to just breathe out and smile.

Then she kissed the end of my shaft and pulled her head out from under the blanket. I could see she never missed a drop.

She put her head back on my shoulder and said, "Now we can both sleep."

I quietly said, "Thank you. That was mind-blowing."

"It wasn't your mind I was blowing. But you were pretty mind-blowing, also."

Before either of us could fall asleep, the flight attendant returned, but with champagne this time. She handed each of us a glass with a smile as she said, "Congratulations."

After finishing the champagne, we each zipped up our pants, hooked our seatbelts over the blankets and finally slept.

We eventually landed in Prague and woke up when the wheels hit the tarmac.

As we were leaving the plane, the flight attendant smiled and said she hoped we enjoyed our flight. Our smiles said yes. Then she handed each of us a set of wings. I thought that they were the cute little wings they gave out to young passengers. But they had "MHC" over the wings. "Welcome to the Club. Wear these whenever you fly with us. There are special perks for those who belong."

As we were walking toward the luggage carousel, I told my seatmate that I would be in Prague for a few days and was staying at the Mandarin Oriental if she needed to switch hands again. She quietly said, "I may need to because my husband is away for 2 more days."

Before I could reply, we reached the carousel, and a man ran up and grabbed her giving her a big hug and kiss. Seems her husband cut his trip short and who could blame him.

My hopes of continuing this at my hotel were shattered. But I jumped in a taxi with a smile and a wonderful memory. Then I realized I never asked her name. But when I got to my hotel, I made sure to buy that issue of

Marie Claire

.