This is the first erotic story I've written—I hope you enjoy it! I wanted to write something quick but it ended up actually being pretty long. It was all done pretty fast so if something isn't perfect let me know and I won't make the same mistake twice.
=)
-- forever_free
*
At the airport, you pass countless strangers, each alone with their own problems, thoughts, and dreams. If you take one second to think about all you have lived, it takes only a second longer to realize that each person you pass along the way has lived a life equally as rich. A hundred thousand lives, converging at one point in time and space, only to scatter back to the far reaches of the Earth.
I wish I could say that this was the mindset I found myself in on that summer day, walking through the terminal to make my connection at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. I was sick, or at least my throat was hoarse and my nose stuffed up, and I had been up since 4 AM to catch my first flight, so I was tired as well. As is often the case when I feel lousy, I found it difficult to focus on anything else.
Finally reaching my gate, I looked for a seat as far away from other human beings as possible. Unfortunately, it seemed to be impossible to find a spot that wasn't next to a family with noisy kids or someone obnoxiously yelling into their cell phone. I walked to the adjacent gate, where I found a row of several seats to myself. I said a silent prayer to the airport gods.
After putting down my luggage, I looked up at a young woman sitting across from me. I'm not sure what struck me so much about her, but I immediately found her attractive: she had shoulder-length, wavy blonde hair, green eyes, and was wearing purple lipstick. Her outfit consisted of a gray "Stanford" zip-up sweatshirt, a very short black skirt, grey leggings with black boots, and a pair of headphones around her shoulder which I guess qualifies as a fashion accessory. But it was her lipstick that I kept coming back to as I traced the striking curves of her slightly-freckled face in my mind.
Her eyes glanced up from her phone and caught my gaze.
I was too tired to feign ignorance some other way, so I just closed my eyes and pretended like I was dozing off. I didn't have to try very hard, because it wasn't really acting at that point. I was exhausted and still had a long day ahead of me.
I counted to sixty and opened my eyes again. I felt like a creep, but I rationalized that everybody 'checks people out.' I guess I was really a prude.
She looked back at me. This time I don't think she saw me looking at her as I pretended to check my phone—at least that's what I thought until she stood up and walked over to me. Busted.
But I pretended not to notice.
"Sir?"
Shit. A voice like that could end all the wars in the world, I thought.
"Sir? I'm not that old," I replied almost robotically as I looked up at her. She stood in front of me staring down, a quizzical look on her face. Apparently my sharp wit was lost on her.
Her lips puckered up a bit before she asked, "could you watch my luggage?" as she pointed at a black suitcase and leather handbag.
"Sure." I managed a smile to mask embarrassment.
"Sure? I'm not that old!" she replied playfully as she walked off. This attempt at humor didn't immediately register to my hazy mind, but I enjoyed catching a glimpse of her from behind. Underneath her strange outfit was a skinny and undoubtedly fit body. I caught myself before my mind wandered further.
When I saw her coming back, I looked away, and I listened for the rhythmic sound of her footsteps coming closer. When I'm tired, all of my senses seem to come together in a strange way, making me aware of whatever my mind is focused on and oblivious to everything else—which is why I immediately noticed when she sat down next to me, trying as I was to appear normal.
"Where are you headed?" she asked.
Again I pretended not to have noticed her when I became acutely aware that I was trying too hard. She wore a look that was halfway between smiling and embarrassment.
"Tampa," I replied, "visiting my folks for the 4th of July. Fucking long layover. How about you?"
She seemed disinterested, staring off at the ceiling and seemingly contemplating other things.
Finally, she spoke. "I saw you looking at me a lot."
My stomach felt like a rock just dropped in it. She didn't make eye contact.
Instead of stuttering, as I might have done had I been more awake and anxious, I didn't say anything at first, but bit my lip. "My bad." I managed, trying to play cool. I looked at her again.
Her head shot around and she looked me straight in the eye, beaming. "Oh, don't worry about it!" The butterflies in my stomach vanished. That smile could cure cancer.
Even sitting right there, in one of the strangest situations of my life, I could not have anticipated what happened next. Sitting there, face to face, in the middle of the airport, she reached out her hands, put them through my hair, closed her eyes, leaned forward, and kissed me.
And I don't mean a little peck-on-the-cheek kiss. Her tongue wrestled its way inside my mouth and I found myself putting two arms around her skinny waist, pulling her closer to me as I enjoyed the sweet taste of her mouth against mine. She moaned a little as I lowered one of my hands and squeezed her ass through her skirt. She broke up the kiss and whispered into my ear, "we can't do this in the middle of the airport."
Airport bathrooms are disgusting and the women's restroom is no different, I learned, but luckily this airport had a "disabled" stall that was at least large enough for two people and their luggage. I felt a little bad, but sick, tired, and increasingly horny, I reasoned that I was basically disabled. The woman, whose name I still did not know, had grabbed my hand and led me to a restroom in a relatively deserted corner of the airport. As soon as I closed the door, she grabbed onto me again and I pulled her toward me, one hand around her shoulders, the other squeezing ass-through-leggings, this time with a better grip.
This time, our kisses were frantic and short. I bit her neck and she held her hands around my shoulders. I looked at her face again—her eyes were full of fire and her hair unkempt, like a wild animal. As we kissed again, I reached up and slowly unzipped her sweatshirt, revealing a black tank top and purple bra peeking out from underneath. She backed away for a moment, then shrugged off her sweatshirt and removed her tank top. Her skin was smooth, her stomach exquisitely flat, and her skin pale, like a porcelain doll that I might have been afraid to touch had I known better.
As she walked back toward me, I reached around and found her bra clasp, which I undid as she kissed my neck. Her tits were small, and round, and perfect. I leaned down and took one of her pink nipples into my mouth, which I bit as she moaned and held my head to her chest. I felt my face squish her breast toward her body as I played with the other in my fingers.
She reached down and felt my aching erection through my pants, and cooed softly as she undid my belt and unzipped my jeans. I stood up to give her more room, reluctant to let go of those two perfect tits. Her thin fingers reached into my boxers and pulled out my fully-hard dick. "Ooh," she sighed as she pumped it a few times. Her voice made everything else in the world seem to melt away.
I watched as she knelt down on the bathroom floor—yuck!—and looked at my erection before licking my pre-cum off the tip. "Mmm," she moaned, knowing just how to make me even hornier.
Her little tongue continued to lick at my shaft for what seemed like an eternity, at once too short and too long, before she began sucking at the sensitive head. This sent tingles of pleasure up my spine, and I moaned as she pumped and sucked and licked all at the same time, staring up into my eyes as she gave me the best blowjob of my life.
She stopped for a moment to lean up toward my ear and whispered seductively, "would you like to play a game?"
"Okay," I managed.
I could feel her breath against my face. "How many times do you want me to deepthroat your cock?" She nibbled my earlobe.
