Maing the Watermelon Queen

A Dylan James Adventure

This is another in the continuing adventures of Dylan James, Hollywood stuntman and stud. Dylan's adventures started out with the "One For The Road" series. Please check all his adventures out. Thanks for the interest and support. And please remember to vote. All emails are welcome.

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Dylan sprinted toward the gate just as the agent made the final boarding call for Delta flight 4846 to Los Angeles. He had just made it through security and run most to the way to the gate. He handed his first class ticket to the agent, who frowned at him and said. "We were just about to close the doors."

Dylan nodded and moved on down the breezeway. He was sweating just a little. His plane from Raleigh/Durham had landed on Concourse D, and his connecting flight was on Concourse A. The Atlanta airport is pretty easy to get around if you have enough time -- but if you are running late. It is a total nightmare. As he went down the walkway to the airplane, the old phrase about "...if you go to hell, you have to change planes in Atlanta" came to mind.

The female flight attendant took his ticket at the door, "Please take your seat at once."

He moved to his seat, 4C on the aisle. He quickly stored his bag in the overhead and sat down in his first class seat. Now taking a deep breath he began to relax a little, he glanced around a bit and didn't see anyone in first class but a couple of people. It really didn't surprise him, since it was the red eye and it was mid-week. There was a young man in the front row reading a novel, and a young woman across the aisle from him by the window working on her lap-top. He took a casual notice of her. She seemed very well-built from what little light was around at the moment. As he buckled in, the flight attendant asked him if he wanted something to drink right then. He ordered a scotch neat, and she frowned. As she moved to the galley, he pulled the airline magazine from its pocket. The engines roared and the plane jerked as it backed out.

She brought the drink back with a napkin, and moved off to conduct her duties. He was not looking forward to this flight; it was going to be very long to LA tonight, almost six hours. He had already been in the air for two hours from Durham so this was going to be a long ass night. He was tired and had a full day tomorrow back at the office getting ready for a new stunt on the next "Hellboy" movie. He had been doing some free-lance stunt work on a commercial shot in North Carolina at the De Laurentus Studios, and it had been a very long week and half. He was glad to be getting back, but he could feel the weariness in his bones.

As he took a sip of the scotch, out of the corner of his eye he noticed the young girl turning off her lap-top and putting it up. He unconsciously watched her put it in a back pack and stick it under the seat in front of her. She looked up and smiled at him, the dim light catching her face. He smiled back and looked forward. As he took another sip, he thought to himself, "Jesus. She is absolutely stunning."

The flight attendant started doing her spiel about exits and buckles, and Dylan zoned out as the big jet lumbered down the runway. He closed his eyes as the warmth of the liquor spread through his body. The attendant droned on followed by the captain's own spiel—'we'd be right on time for taking off, and things looked smooth, blah, blah.'

They sat on the runway for just a few moments and then the giant 747 roared down the runway and up into the sky. Dylan hated takeoffs, didn't really care for flying. For a professional stuntman, it was really a very silly fear, but one that he had none the less. He took another sip of his drink, closed his eyes and breathed. As the plane started climbed, Dylan looked out the window watching Atlanta grow smaller and smaller in the evening darkness. After banking several times and continuing to rise, the plane finally began leveling off from its climb and Dylan breathed a small sigh of relief. He took another deep sip of the warm dark scotch and leaned his head back against the seat.

"Are you a nervous flier?" the young woman whispered to him from across the aisle. Dylan turned his head and saw her staring at him with a concerned look on her face. He smiled at her and shrugged, "Always like that during takeoffs." She nodded and turned back to her window. That time he had been able to take a much better look at her. Her face was truly beautiful. She had straight black hair, dark eyebrows, deep, blue eyes, and smooth olive skin. Her lips were full and pouty. She wore a short blue jean skirt, which showed off her gorgeous legs, and a tight green top that clung to a pair of huge breasts that seemed to strain against the thin material. On her tiny frame they seemed impossibly big compared to her slim waist. She had sandals on her small feet with brightly painted red toenails. He thought he could make out the points of her nipples pushing through her t-shirt in the dim light. As he stared at her astonishing tits, the brunette stared out the plane window and Dylan watched each rise and fall of her large round breasts up and down slowly. He stared at them for a lot longer than he should have. She turned and caught him staring and gave him a brief but worried smile. She quickly turned back to the window. As she did her black hair danced delightfully, picking up the dim lights from the overhead lighting. He nodded back too late. She had seen him leering at her and now she was nervous. "Smooth," Dylan berated himself as he turned and looked out his window. But her beauty and her tits had gotten his attention and made his cock painfully hard. He finished with the airline magazine, putting it back in the seat pocket, and killed the last of his scotch.

When the seat-belt sign was turned off and the pilot did his cruising altitude babble, the attendant came down the aisle and asked if he would like another drink. He nodded yes. After she moved away, he got up and made for the restroom in the front part of the cabin. In the tiny bathroom, the tall stuntman freed his painfully hard 9 inch monster and began to take a whiz. It relieved the pressure on his cock, and it shrunk to normal size (for him). As he returned to his seat, the young woman looked up as he passed and smiled again. While he was gone she had pulled out her bag and began working on her lap-top again. There were papers spread out on the seat next to her as she typed away. He sat down and the attendant gave him his second scotch.

The young girl ordered a Coke from the attendant as he took another long sip of scotch. He put the glass down on his tray table, and the slight motion of the plane and the soft noise of the engines were starting to make him doze off. "How are you doing? Less nervous?" he heard and he opened his eyes. For a moment he was disoriented, but then realized that the dark haired young woman was speaking to him. He turned toward her.

"Oh, fine. Thank you."

"Just making sure,' she smiled. Her fingers toyed with the keys on the laptop. She seemed eager to talk.

"I'm Dylan."

"Hi," she said softly, looking up, "nice to meet you. I'm Brandi." She had a Southern accent, and a thick one at that. Dylan took a sip of his drink.

"Like your scotch?" she said.

"When it's around," he grinned. Dylan looking at the paper work, "Are you working on a report?"

"No, I teach third grade, and I have to do my lesson plan for next week."

"Oh." He thought to himself, "...a school teacher flying first class? How can she afford it?"

About that time, the stewardess returned with her soda. She moved to the front and sat down next to the young man in the front row. They began to speak to each other at once. Dylan noticed that and filed it away somewhere in his brain.

"Cheers," he motioned to Brandi and raised the cup to his mouth.

"Cheers," she said, and took a small sip.

"So what's in LA, a wedding or something?" he asked. The scotch was beginning to cloud his thoughts, and he really could not think of anything else to ask.

"I am going out for business," she said with a big smile. "Are you from LA?"

"Yeah, I work in the film business. Just flying home from a long job."

"That must be exciting."

"Well, not tonight. Tonight it is just tiring," he said more harshly then he intended. Brandy looked at him for a moment and nodded. She returned to her typing and Dylan realized he had just killed the conversation. He sipped his scotch knowing that he had blown a clear chance to talk to her. He stared out his window as the dark night sailed by at 35,000 feet, and thought to himself he was way off his game. She was probably on her first trip to West Coast and was excited. She just wanted to talk. He mentally kicked himself and continued looking out the window. He was starting to get drowsy again when he noticed she was getting out of her seat. He watched as this long limbed beauty moved up the aisle and toward the lavatory in the front. He was entranced at the sight of her beautiful ass as it moved back and forth in her tight jean skirt.

While she was gone, he looked over at her seat and noticed a small emblem on her back pack that read "Ms. Watermelon Queen 2008". Was she a beauty queen? That made sense, she certainly was pretty enough. His tired mind returned to a brief affair he had with Ms. Georgia a few years before when they had worked together. He was lost in the memories when Brandy came out of the lavatory. He watched her start down the aisle, and then she bent down to talk to the flight attendant and the young guy in the front row. She nodded to something that was said, and moved back to her seat.

He decided to try once again or this was going to be a very long flight. He really didn't think he was going to pick her up, but he always enjoyed flirting with women and he had nothing to read. So why not?

"Did she say anything interesting," Dylan asked as she sat down.

"Oh, just that if we wanted anything to let her know. That is her boyfriend and she is just sitting with him." She immediately went to work with her laptop ignoring him.

"Hey, I am sorry. I really did not mean to bite your head off earlier. I was just tired. I do apologize."

She looked up at him for a moment, and then smiled. "It is okay, I was just worried about you. You seemed very nervous."

"Thank you that is very kind of you. I have just been flying all day." Her whole face light up. He had been right. She wanted to talk about her trip. She asked him again what he did, and he started with the brief outline of what a stuntman does. The same one he gave all the time now. She hung on every word. He finally got the conversation off him and on to her. He asked her about the emblem on her back pack, and she almost exploded with glee as she talked about the beauty pageant. She talked about winning the local beauty contest, "Ms. Watermelon Queen." The people of her local church had put her up for it and she had won going away. The contest turned out to be a qualifier for the Ms. America pageants so her church again came up with the money to send her to LA to train with a pageant professional to increase her chances for winning. They had arranged for her to stay with people from another branch of her church in Los Angeles. She was excited and nervous and seemed very young. After talking for a few moments, she invited him to move across the aisle so they could talk more quietly. He said yes, and she quickly moved her items into her bag to make room for him. As he slid into the seat next to her, he watched as she crossed her legs. They were smooth and tan and flawless. His large prick jumped at the thought of sliding between those amazing thighs. As she inanely babbled on about the contest, her family, her church, and her excitement of traveling for contests, he watched her warm, wet mouth and the thought of her sweet mouth wrapped around his creaming cock made his own mouth water. As she looked at him trustingly with her wide, alluring eyes, Dylan grew more and more entranced by her beauty. After they had been talking for about 10 minutes, Dylan suddenly realized he was sitting with a true Southern Belle, the very kind of girl that he used to flee from in school. Being raised in the South as he was, he had seen this type of young girl forever. Pretty, sweet, shallow, small-minded, and one-dimensional, not her fault, it was just how she was raised. She had been raised to be a wife, mother, join the country club and go to church every Sunday. Not a bad existence, just a limited one. One that Dylan had never wanted -- that is why he had gotten out of the South. Brandi was intelligent; but she was also extremely naïve about the world and how things work. As he listened to her, he already knew what her college life had been like; sorority sisters, frat boys, prettiest girl on campus, good student, and occasional sex with her boyfriend whom she would marry upon graduation. He also knew that church and faith were extremely important to her. Coming from a small southern town, those beliefs would have shaped her life and how she saw the world. Dylan bet that she had never questioned the beliefs she was raised with. He bet that she prayed when she woke up and before she went to sleep, plus attended Bible study and the church youth group every week. She did not have a ring on her finger, but he knew she had a boyfriend. Someone who looked like that always did. Plus he knew the sex between them was terrible. Either the guy was an awful lay, or she had too many hang-ups. He smiled to himself and thought, "I should seduce her, just to give her a good orgasm."

Dylan noticed the attendant getting up and moving back toward them. "I wanted to know if you two wanted anything else. If not, I was going to catch a nap up front for an hour or so. It has been a very long day."

Brandi shook her head, saying she was fine. Dylan asked for two more scotches and another soda. The stewardess nodded and stepped away.

"You are going to be bombed when we land if you drink all that," Brandi scolded him.

"It is for both of us. She is going to sleep so this way we can keep the party going."

"Dylan, I don't drink." He stared at her for a moment skeptically. "I don't anymore ... well only a little..," she confessed. "I used to be a big party girl in college and really got in trouble by drinking and partying too much. After I barely got through college, I made a promise to myself and God, that I would a better and safer life. And I have kept that promise."

She was so earnest in her statement that he almost laughed at her. He really could not believe that someone that looked like her -- this incredibly pretty young woman -- was so uptight. She seemed much cut off from life. She was sweet, naïve and in for an incredible shock when she got to LA. The more Dylan watched her and listened the more he wanted to fuck her now just to see if he could break through the wall of faith and piety that she put around herself. He bet that if he could crack that shell, she was an absolute sexual tiger inside, a tiger that it would be fun trying to tame. He joked with her until the booze arrived, keeping it light. Then he poured two stiff drinks in their plastic cups and handed one to her. She took it apprehensively as if she was breaking some very important law.

"Don't worry, remember someone else is driving right," he smiled as he toasted her. She tentatively brought the glass to her lips and sipped it. The strength of the liquor made her wince for a second, and then she smiled. "That tastes good. I have not had scotch since college." She took another tiny sip, and Dylan knew he had a solid chance to score her. He reached up and turned off the overhead reading light plunging their two seats into almost total blackness. The only light nearby came from the safety lights in the floor and a dim light from the galley 5 rows ahead. It created a cocoon of intimacy around them as he continued to keep the conversation on her but light. Family, teaching school, what a beauty queen does, anything to make her relaxed and drinking. The time passed quickly, while they consumed two more scotches each, when he finally realized that she was pretty drunk. The more that they talked, the more playful she became with him making jokes, touching his arm, laughing at his stories of movie sets. A playful sexual tension was building and Dylan was transfixed by her angelic beauty. Between the mix of alcohol and the flow of blood to his pulsing cock, he wanted to see if her could seduce right here. He leaned closer to her and whispered in her ear.

"So tell me about your wild days. What were you like?"

She laughed at the question and looked at him for a second. "I was a total wild child. I drink, smoked pot, partied all night, and almost flunked out of school on more than occasion. My roommate and I were known to be a pair of very fun girls, if you get my drift," she took another sip of scotch and peered at him over the top of her glass.

"What made you change your evil ways?"

"I met my boyfriend, Wayne. He helped me change by bringing me to Jesus. I am much happier and at peace with myself. It has completely changed my life for the better."

"What does he do?"

"He is studying to be a minister. He is a good, good man."

"Do you ever miss those old evil days?" Dylan asked as he stared at her in the darkness.

"No, not really. Well," she paused for a couple of moments, "...to be honest I miss the sex. I shouldn't be telling you this. I love sex, and Wayne and I don't do it very often, because he doesn't feel that it is right before you are married."

"So why don't you get married then?"

"He wants to wait until he finishes his courses. That is a couple of years off."

"Poor girl!"

"Yeah, tell me about it." She stopped talking and took another sip of her drink, and the silence grew into a pregnant pause. She leaned her head against his shoulder and sighed. "You are a very nice man to listen to my boring stories."

"I really am not that nice. And they not that boring... So do you mind if I ask another question?" She nodded no. "What is sex like with a minister?"

"Not very good actually," she giggled. He could almost see her blush in the darkness. "I said I was pretty wild in school, but I was just trying to impress you. I never did much. I was a virgin until I was 20. Hell, I have never even giving Wayne ... head. He won't let me. God, now I am embarrassed. Is there anymore to drink?"

Dylan filled her glass with the last of the scotch, and watched her quickly gulp it down. She seemed really very nervous. He touched her arm and she almost jumped. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I just should not have told you those intimate details. I was wrong, but you are a nice man to put up with me."

"I told you, I am not a nice man."

"Why do you keep saying that?" She asked leaning in close to him as if to comfort him.

"Because I keep thinking about ..."

"About what?" she asked, her voice very low.

Dylan leaned in very close to her face. He could feel her soft, scotch favored breath on his face. "That attendant is gone to sleep for awhile,' he said motioning toward the front. "We are alone and undisturbed in this big dark airplane. And how much I want to kiss you." He really wanted to fuck her desperately. He was very hungry for her. His cock surged down his thigh in the darkness.

She was silent. Dylan leaned forward. She saw him coming.

"Please, don't," she whispered, starting to turn away. He touched her cheek, she was trembling.

"We can't," she whispered.

"Why not?"

"It's wrong. I have a boyfriend. I don't know you. It would be wrong."

He leaned in, and his lips touched hers ever so gently as her eyes fluttered closed. His lips, soft and firm, rubbed back and forth over hers. His hand cupped her chin and pulled her gently to him.