Introduction to the Mile High Club

Thursday evening came around to soon. It only seemed like yesterday when I finished my last shift, but it already had been 5 days ago since I had returned from my last trip to New York. The only positive thing about my next flight was the fact it was an overnight to Cape Town with a very good chance I would be lucky to welcome a new member into the club.

My name is Madeleine and I'm a 30 year old flight attendant. My guess is that most readers on Lit. won't need an explanation about what club I'm talking about, but for those still wondering, I'm talking about the Mile High Club. A club reserved for those privileged enough to have had a sexual encounter while flying.

I was around 19 years old when I took an airplane for the very first time. It might have been the thrill to go on vacation alone with my boyfriend, but I also was getting very excited from the idea of getting on a plane. I remember how horny I got when he softly caressed my thigh with his hand to let me know I was safe. It wasn't just the feeling of the soft fabric tickling my inner thighs, or the way his hands made my little summer dress rise up, but also the way my belly tingled when the aircraft took off into the air. The fact we were rising up above the clouds, flying higher than a bird, looking out of the window down at the little spots of lights coming from the houses that were scattered along the dark surface of the earth beneath us. By the time we got to our destination my panties were soaked and as soon as we walked into our hotel room I jumped his bones. It was the best sex I had ever had at that time with some amazingly intense orgasms.

On the way back home after our vacation had come to an end, the same exciting feeling came over me and if I would have known about the Mile High Club back then, I might have attempted to gain us both an entry ticket. Though I doubt if we would have gotten a chance for it anyhow, since the charter flight was packed with 200 other people coming back from vacation and with only 3 hours of flight almost everyone was awake. If the rules for entering would not be so vague, I still think I became a member on that same flight, because I ended up masturbating twice on the toilet.

It might not come as a surprise that after that experience, I went to apply for a flight attendant training program almost straight away. After I had managed to make the final selection and completed the full course with flying colors at the top of my class, I was offered a flight attendant position by a well-known carrier for on their long-haul triple seven fleet. It did not take long before I learned about the Club and soon a fetish was born.

That was then, right now I'm on my way for my next trip. The staff car park is full but with some luck I manage to find a parking space near the crew bus stop. My thoughts linger while I wait for the bus, thinking who I will be flying with this evening and what cabin I would get assigned. With 10 years seniority I often get to take care of Business Class and sometimes even get lucky to serve in Premiere Class. Middle aged business men are the easiest candidates. Often divorced or just bored with their wife's make most of them keen for some exciting sexual fling with a young flight attendant. In addition there are far less passengers in the business class areas and on a night flight like this one, it is very easy to find a quiet moment to welcome a new member into the Club.

I wonder if tonight's flight is going to be one of them and by the time the crew bus arrives I can already feel the butterflies in my stomach. Still more than ten years after that first flight and probably close to a 1000 take-offs and landings, I still get that same feeling. Even on the occasional flight I don't get a chance to feed my longing desires with a nice hard cock, I still always get so horny that I have to get myself off masturbating instead.

The bus stops at our crew office and I walk into the building lugging my suitcase and carry-on behind me. On the large screen I check for the briefing room number and have some time left to get a coffee. The lounge area is filled with many of my colleagues. Pilots, attendants, both male and female, though with an average of 8 cabin crew compared to 2 or 3 flight crew and only a handful of male pursers the majority of people in the room are female.

"Does any of them get as excited as me?" I wonder looking around for someone I might know. "Who might already be a member and would they make a visit to the Club as often as I do?"

With almost 10.000 flight attendants and pilots it is impossible to remember who you have flown with, but some of the men I remember well. Actually most of the members who I have welcomed, have joint the Mile High Club page on Face Book. A page which I have actually created under a false alias, because I would surely lose my job if the airline was to find out about my lecherous activities on board their fleet. Though I'm sure that no member has ever made a complaint about the extra service I provide.

"Hi Madeleine," I here from behind me.

I know that voice, and turn to great one of my dearest and oldest girl friends with a big hug. Florence was in the same class as me. Like me she managed to get assigned to the 777 fleet and at the start of our career we tried to align our rosters by requesting similar flights. She is one of the few female attendants who knows about my fetish and actually was once my accomplice by keeping watch while I got my rocks off with one of the passengers in the back galley. Afterwards it was her turn. When she had managed to entice her own candidate, I kept watch for her. This worked out perfectly during the times we flew together, but for Florence it was not a need like it is for me and after a few occasions she confided in me that she was more doing it for me. She really did not want to risk her job for it and hoped I was going to be OK on my own from then on. Her acts of kindness and her honesty I appreciated then as I still do now and we kept in close contact.

"Flo, I did not know you were flying today?" I say with a look of surprise. "Where are you of to?"

"Yeah, neither did I till an hour ago. I was on standby and got called in for a Hong Kong. You?"

"Cape Town. So good to see you." I smile.

"We should arrange for coffee some time, it's been too long since we have seen each other." Flo tells me before she excuses herself. "I'm late already, got to go."

She blows me a kiss and I give her a quick wave. With no one else around I recognize, I decide to go to the briefing room. It is only 5 more minutes before the whole crew should be there and we would get the final details of our flight. Mainly just a matter of the head purser assigning the cabin locations to each of the attendants and advise us who would be responsible for the exit doors. Since it is a long haul flight the cabin crew would have 12 attendants including the purser and there would be 3 flight crew members. Almost everyone is already there and I start passing each crew member to say hello. One of the most important forms of politeness for French people, which includes giving a kiss on each cheek. By the time I'm done the last two crew members have also arrived, including Vincent, our head purser for this flight.

They perform their rounds of saying hello to everyone, after which Vincent calls for everyone's attention. With just three passengers scheduled in Premiere Class and a full Business Class Cabin, he advises that just the Maître Cuisine and one attendant will be required for service in Premiere this flight. Normally there are two attendants assigned with the additional chef in the Galley for preparing the food.

"That will give us some extra help in Business," he explains, "and will assure our expected level of service."

I already start to dread the idea of working a packed business class with an extra crew member around as well. However much I love to give in to my urges, I also need to be careful not to get found out in the middle of a hot romp by one of the other passengers or even worse one of my fellow crew members. Sure in the beginning I was a bit reckless and it's a miracle I never did get fired. One time a purser did catch me and I had to do everything in my power to convince him it was a spare of the moment thing. He had me recorded on his iPhone and ended up bribing me for his own sexual gratuities for quite some time, till I finally managed to get his bribery and advances recorded myself. From that moment on I became more careful and created my own little code for membership admissions. Rule number one; don't get caught again.

"Madeleine," I wake up from my thoughts as I hear Vincent say my name. "Do you think you can handle Premiere by yourself tonight?"

Not believing my luck I answer quickly, "Sure, whatever it takes."

Vincent goes through the rest of the assignments and other formalities before we get our call for the crew bus to take us to the aircraft. After the cabin preparations we are ready for boarding. Vincent takes his position at door 2 left to welcome all the business and economy class passengers, while I stand at the entry 1 left, reserved for Premiere Class. While I wait for them to arrive I glance over the passenger list. All three of the Premiere passengers are elite members with a platinum status and I wonder if any of them would be a suited candidate for a somewhat more exciting membership status. Just then the first one arrives.

Quickly I glance at his boarding pass, to catch his name and seat location then politely say, "Good evening Mr. Clement, welcome aboard." Pointing him to the first aisle I continue, "You are in 2A, second seat on your right."

Matthieu, the maître cuisine, follows Mr. Clement to his seat to take his coat and offer him a welcoming drink and little snack. The second passenger has arrived as well and in the same polite fashion I point him to his seat, 1A. That just leaves one. Judging by his name, Mr. Smith, listed on the passenger list, he must be from South Africa or some other English native country. Waiting patiently I mull over my chances for tonight. Both Mr. Clement and Mr. Dupond are either in their late forties or early fifties. Where Mr. Clement would be the more attractive one compared to the short and podgy Mr. Dupond. Some streaks of grey that accentuate his other short dark hair makes him look charming and sophisticated, matching his neat Italian suite and immaculate designer shoes.

Then I see him walk up through the jetty and I start to melt. He is tall and handsome, somewhere in his thirties I imagine. With his jacket flung over his shoulder, I notice his broad chest outlined through his shirt. Instantly I get that all so familiar yearning. Since Mr. White is our last expected Premiere class passenger I take the opportunity to personally escort him to his seat. My smile, which is expected of a hostess, is unforced as I accept his jacket and kindly ask him if he would like an appetizer.

"You can call me Scott," he tells me and smiles back. "I can do with a whiskey if you wouldn't mind bringing me one?"

"Certainly sir," I reply politely with a little flirting smile.

After I have hung up his jacket, I prepare a small tray with some warm roasted nuts and his drink, realizing that I did not even ask if he wanted his whiskey on the rocks or neat. Though I enjoy the little excuse to be able to give Mr. White, or Scott as he liked me to call him, some more close attention, I also remind myself that I need to keep my head clear and on the job for now. There is still so much to be done before we will be quietly cruising. First of all I will have to perform the security and flight departure checks followed with the safety demonstration prior to take-off. After that I will have to serve a full 5 course meal service to all three prominent customers.

"Would you like your whiskey neat or on the rocks?" I ask as I reach over to place the little snacks on the side ledge of Scott's seat.

While lingering just a little longer, I observe his reaction to my pose, which causes my breasts to be weight down and allow for them to be outlined under my uniform. With the tight fitted dark blue dress we have to wear, closed to the neck line, it's very innocent and merely a test to see if he would notice. He does, his eyes gleaming at my feminine curves while I stand back upwards.

"Neat," he tells me with a smile.

As I walk back to the galley I feel his eyes roam across my back down to my ass and legs. Our uniforms are far from sexy, with the fitted dress ending just above the knees, but it's amazing what a little sway of the hips can do to a man. In the galley I find Matthieu, who is busy preparing the drinks for the other two passengers. Everything about him just says gay to me. The way he pours the drinks and bothers about getting the lemon exactly perfect on the glass rim of GT he has prepared. It doesn't bother me. In fact I prefer working with a gay guy. Many of them are even raunchier than I am, and even though it might seem like competition, their interests of type of men is completely opposite of mine. Straight colleagues are far more likely to become jealous and can cause much more obstacles for me to fulfill my needs during the quiet hours of the flight.

After pouring a double whiskey into the crystal glass I walk back to Scott. He is reading a Men's Health magazine that he must have picked up from our premier lounge. He looks up at me as I set his drink down on the little side ledge.

"Is there anything else I could do for you sir?" I ask politely

"This is just fine for now," he tells me.

There is not much time for lingering as boarding is nearly completed and security checks need to be completed. All The loose items in the galley need to be securely stowed and I check that the safety equipment is in its place under the jump seat next to the door and also in the first overhead luggage bin, which is reserved for oxygen bottles and a defibrillator. I have to stretch to check the pressure indicator on the two bottles and I feel the hem of my dress pull up along my stockings. Though I didn't do it on purpose, it did catch the eye of Scott, who looked up from his magazine. Just the way he watches my struggles and smiles as his eyes roam over my exposed lower thigh assures me he would be easily convinced to join the club. The attention warming me inside while I walk back into the galley and causing my thoughts to drift again, wishing we would be midflight already, when half the crew would be having their nap brake in the crew rest and hopefully the remaining first class passengers would be asleep as well.

Over the PA comes the captain with the announcement that boarding has been completed. This is our cue to collect the loose items from the cabin. Matthieu assures me he has got it and asks me to get the demonstration kits ready while he picks up the empty glasses.

"He is a handsome one," Matthieu announces as he returns in the galley.

"Who?" I ask him nonchalant.

"Oh don't pretend you have not noticed him, 1F off course," he tells me with a smile.

The plain jolts as we are being pushed back and the captain announces on the PA to arm the slides. The engines start to run up and Matthieu and I get in position for the safety demonstration. In most of the cabin the demo is displayed on the personal screens and bulkhead monitors, but because the 15" screen of the first class seats are stowed during TTL, sorry Taxi, Take-Off & Landing, we have to perform a manual demonstration at the same time. Normally I hate this, but with Scott's eyes paying close attention to the way I point out the emergency doors and floor lighting just makes up for it. Not that putting on a live vest can be in any way considered sexy, I do my best to reward Scott for his careful attention to all the safety details. With the announcement going over the instructions how to inflate the life jacket, I purse my lips seductively and lower my head to pretend to blow the vest with the extended tube. Just as if I was to lower them and blow a nice hard cock.

Luckily Matthieu or the other two passengers in his aisle don't notice my brief sexual insinuation, but the way Scott squirms in his seat flatters me with the notion that it generated the desired effect between his legs. If I keep this up he will be as horny as I am by the time I get the chance to finally welcome him to the club. For the moment I take my seat at door 21 and strap myself in for takeoff. Pulling the belts tight causes the lace fabric of my bra to grace against my already sensitive nipples, which causes them to get stiff and I feel how electric jolts shoot from their tips down through my spine direct to my loins. When the captain applies full throttle and the aircraft starts to roar down the runway, the feeling just intensifies by ten. If I would be alone my hands would be right up under my skirt and frantically be rubbing myself to a massive orgasm. Only Matthieu is sitting right on the other side of me, so all I can do for now is cross my legs to put pressure on my aching cunt. He mimics with his mouth, asking if I'm OK, as he must have noticed my tense and slight discomfort. While I can feel my panties clench against the bare skin of my upper thighs, I nod back at him.

The nose of the aircraft goes up and suddenly I feel that all familiar feeling in my stomach as we lift off from the ground. The sensation is just enough to set off a tiny little orgasm and a soft moan escapes my lips. Maybe that was just what I needed to make it through the services without the constant desire to jump Scott right in his seat. However I'm wrong, after we reach cruise altitude and I make my first round in the cabin to hand out our menu and ask what everyone wants to drink, my soaked panties keep rubbing against my engorged clit. I barely make it back to the galley after taking Scott's order as last. He must have noticed my fluttered face when I asked him if he wanted another whiskey, because of the way he kept looking at me.

Matthieu is already busy preparing some of the food and I have to ask him a favor to work on the drinks first, before I grab my makeup bag and dash into the lavatory. I hike up my dress and hook my fingers around the thin waist band of my panties to pull them down. Carefully I step out of them, feeling the clamp lace fabric in my hand just makes me realize how horny I am. I'm surprised just how wet they are. I always get aroused by take-off, but usually I manage to keep my panties on till the moment presents itself for one lucky new candidate to pull them off when I welcome him to the club. But then again, there aren't that many times I get to work in the confinement of Premiere Class by myself nor do I get often presented the chance to welcome such confident and handsome looking future prospect member as Mr. White.

The thought of him causes my desires to stir and almost uncontrollably I let my hand with the panties rise up towards my longing cunt as I raise one leg up on the toilet seat. My outer lips are swollen and slick with my cream, which I collect with the soft lace fabric. My other hand reaches down as well and I let two fingers slide into my moist slid before pushing them up towards my sensitive clit. I need release so badly and I frantically start rubbing my fingers over the engorged little knob, while I stuff my panties into my pussy with my other hand. It does not take long before I feel that al familiar sensation starting to rise up from inside of me. Like all my nerve endings are directed to the center of my body, causing jolts of intense pleasure to surge through my spine ending right where my fingers are so busy to get me off. When the waves of a shattering orgasm rush through me, I have to bite my lip not to cry out to loud for Matthieu to hear. With holding both hands steady in place my pussy quivers while I ride out wave after wave and almost lose my balance when the aircraft hits a little air bump.