Here he was again, sitting on his ass waiting to board his flight. He didn't feel more secure, just more bored and frustrated. He'd learned to create games to amuse himself during the interminable wait. The holding pen was about half full...everyone looked equally bored. Without staring, he surveyed all the women passengers. His game was to look each of them over and imagine what her pussy would look like and how her cunt would feel around his cock. After checking them all out, he'd then choose his favorite and weave a detailed fantasy about the two of them fucking in one of the airplane toilets as the plane rushed along at twice the speed of sound.
Today it was especially easy to fall into the fantasy. He worked for Exxon-Mobile and was returning to the States after a grueling six month assignment as an advisor in Saudi Arabia. Many of the rich Saudi men regularly flew in hookers from the U. S., Japan, and Europe, but they never offered to share with their Western employees. That would expose their open secret and tarnish their patina of false holiness.
He'd worked such long hours during the final weeks, he'd not even had time to jack off. Not that he missed it that much. After six long months, taking care of himself had become so boring it was hardly worth it. Although at his age, his hand was about all he had to look forward to. Women his age didn't seem interested in sex, and younger women weren't interested in fucking geezers...unless they got paid. He wanted pussy so badly his balls hurt.
The woman he finally picked caught him staring at her. As he looked at her a little too long, he saw her dark brown eyes, above a paperback copy of Alice Hoffman's, The River King, staring right back at him. He'd noticed her when she walked into the boarding area and took a seat across from him. She wore a loose, powder blue blouse over gray pants. The pants were stylishly tailored with roomy legs, but fit snugly around her stomach and butt. When she'd turned her back to him to dig her book out of her carry on before settling in for the long wait, he'd gotten a good look at her behind. As he admired her beautiful, full ass and imagined himself pulling down her pants to give her doggy as she bent over, he felt precum wetting the folds of his foreskin.
She lowered her book to her lap and smiled at him before returning her eyes to the page. Her longish, straight nose reminded him of the American actress, Mel Harris, except it was broader and less pointy. Long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail added to the similarity. High cheek bones set off her symmetrical face. Full, but carefully shaped, black eyebrows arched over her eyes. In the brief moment she'd looked directly at him, he'd noticed the bright sparkle in her dark brown irises, silently declaring that she was a healthy woman in the prime of her life. The luster of her hair hinted that she took pride in being clean and attractive. Over the last six months he'd had a lot of practice trying to read women and create his fantasies, with only the brown eyes of the Saudi women and girls to work with. They could all be built like walruses under all that garb, but ahhh, those eyes!
Cotton socks concealed her ankles above comfortable looking athletic shoes. Skin that showed: her face, neck, and hands, glowed with a healthy brown tone. Hard to tell whether it was her natural color, a Mediterranean tan, or maybe just makeup. He wondered if she might be a face model. She was a little too heavy to be a body model. Not that her weight was a turn off. On the contrary. He'd never been very attracted to skinny women. As long as they still had a waist and a relatively flat stomach, he liked them slightly on the heavy side.
She definitely still had a waist and, although the pants might be helping a little, the area between her navel and pussy had only a slight bulge. He found the tummy sexier than board flat abs. In spite of all the advertising and marketing, he knew what attracted him in women was primitive and hard wired. The slight tummy bulge suggested that the seed he'd planted deep in her belly had taken root and that she was making him a son with nascent balls carrying his genes. The heavy tits hiding in her blouse promised that she would have plenty of milk to feed his newborn son, giving him a healthy start toward maturity, when his fully developed balls would continue to propagate those genes.
It had been so long since he'd seen more than just a face or just eyes, he relished each nuance as he glanced surreptitiously, trying not to get caught staring again. Being allowed to look at such a handsome woman was such a treat that he didn't want her to write him off as a stalker and rise in disgust to find a far away seat. She had a sexy mouth with wide, full lips, and he fantasized about what her tongue and teeth would look and feel like. Her distinct features needed no eye makeup, and she had the self confidence to know it. Same with her lips...her natural pink needed no enhancement.
***
She sat trying to keep her mind on the novel, but without much success. Like the man sitting across from her, she too, was preoccupied. Since she'd caught him staring, he was being more furtive, but she still felt like he was licking her from head to toe. Such obvious lust piqued her interest in him.
She owned a company in New York that marketed a lower priced clothing line and was returning from a buying trip in Paris and London. But truth be told, she did more sketching than buying, stealing designs to make low priced knock offs for her American clientele. Time being more valuable than gold, she was returning on the Concorde. In a few weeks the supersonic flights would end, a victim of economics, so she knew this might be her last chance. Many of her friends were in the mach-2 club and, during chick chat at luncheons and parties among the NY fashion set, they were constantly teasing her about joining.
So she had been checking out the men passengers to hopefully find a likely candidate to join the club with her. Being a busy career woman, she relied on her vibrator collection to fulfill her needs. They didn't care if she was in a pissy mood, nor if it was one of the heaviest days of her period. All they asked for was fresh batteries. In her business many of the men she encountered were gay, so no luck there. And yeah, her vibrators took the edge off, but still, there was simply nothing like a man's cock when it came to giving her a hard orgasm. She missed playing with real balls, and she missed the feeling of power in using her sex to morph a man's limp noodle into a hard, raging cock. Most of all, she missed the bestial, out of control urgency when he came and lost his load. More worship on the altar of her sexual power.
The other males in the boarding pen didn't look promising. All were easily past the age of consent, and she didn't have a problem screwing older men, though she had more experience with those her own age. Those who were apparently traveling with a significant other wouldn't do. The rest were either fat or appeared too slovenly, or in a few cases, both. The loo on the plane would be a tight fit, so no fatties, and she was careful about her personal hygiene, so no slobs.
Therefore, she turned her attention to the man across from her. Obviously he was interested in her, and that was half the battle. He was at least ten years older. She was 5-7 and she guessed his height at 5-9. Comfortable trousers concealed his crotch, so she could only guess at how he was hung. Brown loafers over tan socks covered his feet and ankles. He had small feet and hands, but she'd learned that that was not always a reliable indicator. She'd fucked several males who, though small boned, turned out to have cocks over seven inches, so for all she knew he might be hung like a horse. Not that it mattered. In her experience, men with small to average cocks have more stamina. Plus, they really love to eat pussy and don't mind being told how she likes it done.
He wore a short sleeved, snug fitting, knit shirt, giving an accurate picture of his build. His flat stomach and muscular chest and arms advertised that he either worked out faithfully, or that his job was physical and strenuous. She'd guess his weight at 150- 160 pounds, with minimal body fat. His arms and face were deeply tanned. He was handsome in a boyish way. His blues eyes were so bright and piercing that she wondered if he wore contacts. By far his best feature was his hair. A thick, luscious, silver mane with a part on the left, swept back from his forehead over his ears to a neatly trimmed line at the base of his skull. His black eyebrows hinted that he was not old, but rather, prematurely gray. Best of all he looked well scrubbed and proud of it. Hopefully he took the same pride in his cock and balls. Yes, he looked like the best prospect to bang her into the mach-2 club.
***
They finally started boarding. No crips nor brats, so the process went quickly. They all took their assigned seats. He had an aisle seat and she sat a couple rows ahead of him on the opposite side. The plane was only a little over half full, one of the main reasons British would soon mothball the fleet. He tightened his seat belt as he listened to the attendant's canned speech. Gravity pinned him to his seat as the engines roared, thrusting the Concorde into the stratosphere.
When they reached cruising altitude and the seat belt lights blinked off, he watched her take a small bag from the overhead and go to the forward loo. A couple minutes later she emerged wearing a different outfit. Still wearing her athletic shoes and anklets, she had changed from the pants to a short, loose skirt. The blouse had been replaced by a thin, knit tunic that zipped down the front. She put her former outfit in the overhead, and made her way to where he sat. With a shy smile, she asked, "Mind if I sit there?", pointing to the window seat.
For a second he considered offering to move and let her have the aisle, but then, maybe she wanted to look at the blackness and the curvature of the horizon. He just smiled back politely and replied, "Sure, be my guest." Instead of waiting for him to stand in the aisle to let her in, she awkwardly climbed over his legs while facing him. Unless her tunic concealed those phony nipples he'd seen some women wear, she wore no bra. Her legs were bare above the anklets and as she climbed over his knees, her skirt hiked up and he saw she wore no panties, even getting a fast glimpse of her hairless pussy.
After she'd finally contorted herself into her seat and settled in, the hem of her skirt stopped at mid-thigh. Like her face, the skin on her legs was also deeply tanned. He hadn't heard her speak enough to tell for sure, but from her smooth, hairless legs, he'd guess her to be an American. She caught his lingering look at her legs and commented, "You like? I treated myself to two weeks in Saint-Tropez...nude beach...so I'm brown all over."
Yes, her tan was lovely, but what he'd really been looking at was how well muscled her calves and thighs were. Daydreaming about how long she could ride him before her well toned legs grew too tired, and picturing her on top of him coming repeatedly, once again went directly from his brain to his groin, soaking his briefs with yet more precum. The fantasy picture of her tanned pussy made him even wetter.
They got a conversation going, bringing each other up to speed with brief biographies: what they did for a living, why they'd been in Europe, and so forth. His six months in Saudi Arabia intrigued her and she wanted to hear all about it. After he'd told her how monklike it had been, she leaned in closer and asked impishly, "You mean to tell me you've not been laid in six months?" He admitted that it was sad but true. This made him an even better choice. Six months without any pussy meant he was probably safe, and she KNEW she was STD free. That also explained why he'd ogled her before boarding. His brain was soaked with testosterone and he needed to unload his swollen balls...BADLY!
When the food cart came along, they both declined. One of the pluses of supersonic flight was the short time in the air, easily fitting between two real meals. Also, they were both seasoned travelers and knew better than to eat airline food. After the attendants moved on and left them alone, she finally made her move. Leaning even closer, she cupped his balls and whispered, "How would you like to join the mach-2 club and give ME this six month load?"
