Years ago on a Red Eye (transcontinental night flights) from California to Boston I had my first and only encounter with the mile high club. Well, actually it was closer to the five mile high club because we were above 25,000 feet, but regardless, it was an experience I'll always cherish. Just thinking about, reliving and visualizing the feelings and sensations while writing this has rekindled the excitement.
Her name was Jane and we were co-workers, both married (not to one another) and, at the time, felt we were in love. I now know it was more lust than love, but we were young and infatuated, spending as much time together as we could.
It was the mid '70's and Red Eyes were always less than half full. We had first class seats and after the plane departed, the flight crew turned down the lights. We got some blankets and pillows because the plan was to cuddle and sleep during the flight. Putting the arm rest up, spooning, we covered ourselves with a single blankets. My left arm pulled her close and, being a young, sex crazed lover, I started to feel and play with her breasts. I quickly and happily discovered that Jane had left her bra in her suitcase (during this time women always wore a bra when in public). Unbuttoning her blouse, I slid my hand in to enjoy the texture and shape of her exquisite orbs, tweaking and teasing her sensitive tips.
Jane lay there enjoying the attention, sensations and affection. Soon, her left arm moved back across her body, stopped at my crotch and she unbuckled and opened my pants. Reaching in, her hand slipped around my excited member and she pulled me free. As her hand moved slowly back and forth, the thrills and sensations were indescribable.
With her hand continuously moving, remaining still was difficult. To reciprocate, I slid my hand down her body and slowly eased her skirt up. To my surprise, Jane's panties were keeping her bra company. It was verboten for a woman to be in public without panties. Finding unhindered access, even though it couldn't have possibly happened, I know I became twice as rigid. My hand, trying to return the favor, lightly eased across her legs and the Mound of Venus, searching for the Cliffs of Venus, which, because of her bent and together knees, was inaccessible.
We lay cuddling, touching and teasing for what seemed an eternity. Somehow, Jane could tell when I was close to releasing because her hand would stop and just hold me. After a few minutes, she would start to gently squeeze and relax, a milking motion from her little to index finger, then the repetitive cycling would restart. Was it pleasurable? You bet, but it was also torture, being on the edge and not releasing. I wanted to groan, shout, yell, do something, but being in an open, public area, covered with only a thin blanket, I forced myself to remain still and silent.