This is the forty-sixth episode of my unreliable memoirs, recounting sexual tales from my wife and mine's younger days back in the nineteen eighties. Each episode is self-contained, so you can read them without having to have read the previous ones.
The episode is written from Lesley's perspective.
I hope you enjoy it.
M4bloke
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Chapter 1 - Mile High Club
The Business class cabin was quiet as the 747 made its way across the Atlantic from New York to Geneva. The evening meal had been served, the lights turned down and most of the passengers were trying to get some sleep.
Opening the lavatory door, I walked into the tiny cubicle and locked it behind me. The harsh lights flickered into life and studying my face in the mirror I could see I looked a bit tired. No surprise there, especially after the last few nights.
I hitched my dress up, pulled down my panties and stepped out of them. It was going to get crowded in the small cubicle so it made sense to do it while there was still space. Using the same logic I began to finger my pussy, just to make sure I was moist.
Steven knocked five times on the cubicle door and I slid back the latch. The door opened and he squeezed into the cabin, quickly locking the door behind him.
"Fancy seeing you here," he joked.
"I do," I told him, putting my arms around his neck. "Fancy seeing you here, that is."
I kissed my husband full on and he groped my bottom as we swapped tongues.
"Did anyone see you?" I asked, rather unnecessarily.
"I don't think so," he replied.
It wasn't our first time doing it on a plane. I'd fucked Steven on a private charter flight a couple of years before, but that had been in a sumptuous leather chair while Kate had fucked Daniel in the one next to me.
A lot had happened for Steven and I since then. We'd got married for a start, bought a house, made new friends. Steven's career was going from strength to strength and the relationship with Blackfinch was beginning to pay dividends.
It had come at a cost though. '
For of those to whom much is given, much is required,'
Steven had become fond of saying, and it was true. After the past couple of months, Steven was tired and desperately needed a holiday.
Recognising the hours he'd put in on the sale of the Iris battlefield communication system to the Americans, Daniel had given Steven some extra time off over the summer and this meant we had virtually the whole of August to ourselves. The plan had been to spend the first week in Annecy with Daniel and Kate, then ride down to Provence for the rest of the summer with Carole. Work had got in the way though and now we also needed to visit the Obermann's in Germany, but that was only for a weekend. Hopefully the break would be just the tonic Steven needed and I intended to make it my job to see that he relaxed and enjoyed himself.
I undid Steven's trousers as we kissed and reached in to massage his erection. Steven couldn't help lifting my dress up and, when he discovered I wasn't wearing any panties, began to rub my clitoris.
"How are we going to do this?" he asked.
"Quietly," I giggled then suggested, "If I turn round, you can fuck me from behind."
"Works for me," he chuckled.
"But before you do," I told him. "I want you to enjoy this holiday. Whatever it takes, alright?"
"Alright," he replied, "but right now what it takes is for you to turn round."
I turned around, rested my elbows against the cubicle wall then stuck my bottom out for him. I felt two fingers probing me and, when they slipped in with ease, Steven knew I was ready. I closed my eyes and waited for him to fill me up.
Steven was gentle. He took his time and allowed me to get used to having his cock inside me. He wasn't the biggest I'd had, but he was a good size. Big enough, but not too big, was what you wanted from a husband.
He pushed his hand under my dress to get at my nipples then, without undoing my bra, he lifted it up over my dainty breasts and began to tease my buds.
"I want you to enjoy this holiday too," he whispered as he started to pump my pussy, letting his shaft glide all the way out before pushing it all the way back in again.
"I will," I told him.
"And are you going to be my little slut?" he asked.
"If you want me to be," I giggled.
"Very much," he replied.
"Then I will be," I told him. "But I belong to you Steven and if I'm going to be your little slut this summer then you need to make sure you give me plenty of loving too."
"You can count on it," he said reassuringly.
My dress was up around my armpits now as Steven unclipped my bra then used both hands to tease my nipples. I reached down and pressed two fingers onto my clitoris then began to rub it in a circular motion.
"You know, I enjoyed seeing you with Jason and Kyle the other night," he told me.
"You like sharing me with other guys, don't you," I said.
"And girls," he added.
"I liked being with them too," I agreed. "And I was a very lucky girl to have all three of you cum in me."
Steven began to pump me more forcefully, lost in his own fantasies, while I couldn't help thinking about Jason and his tall, lean body. We'd made a connection and I wondered if I'd see him again. It didn't seem too likely. I mean he lived in New York and we'd only known each other for a couple of hours. Probably just ships passing in the night, but a girl could dream.
"We should definitely do more group stuff," Steven said.
"I'd like that."
Thinking about what we'd done the previous night worked wonders for us both. I rubbed my clit harder and with Steven squeezing my nipples my orgasm soon followed. I bit on Steven's arm as I came and he began to pump me even more forcefully. I was about to reach down and give him a little bit of encouragement by holding the base of his shaft between my thumb and forefinger when his grip on me tightened.
"I'm going to cum baby," he told me.
"Your little slut's ready for you."
Steven's final thrust almost propelled me into the cubicle wall. He grabbed my hips and held me onto him as he emptied his load into me. I pushed my bottom back into him and the two of us stayed coupled while he enjoyed the last of his orgasm. Only when it had passed did he relax his grip on me.
When Steven pulled out, I quickly shuffled round and positioned myself over the toilet bowl so that any cum from my pussy didn't land on the floor. I sat down and peed while Steven turned away from me and washed his cock off in the basin.
Nobody said the 'Mile High Club, was romantic, but it had been fun...
Chapter 2 - Back in France
Our flight landed in Geneva at nine-fifteen on Saturday morning, 3
rd
August. That meant we had four whole weeks to enjoy ourselves before being back at work at the start of September.
It didn't take us long to clear airport security and, with a car waiting to pick us up, we were at the hotel, in the small town of Talloires, near Annecy, by eleven-thirty. We'd managed to get some sleep on the plane but it wasn't what you'd call proper rest. So, after checking in, we decided to go to bed for a few hours. We undressed and I curled up in Steven's arms on the bed as we both tried to snooze some more.
It must have worked, because the next thing I heard was the sound of the bedside phone two hours later. Steven answered it and listened to the voice at the other end, then thanked them and replaced the receiver.
"Peters and Cath are downstairs," he said then got up and disappeared into the bathroom.
Peters was Daniel's driver and Cath was Peters' wife. For the last couple of years, in return for a free holiday, they'd driven Daniel's Harley Davidson down from London in the back of a rental van. This way, Daniel and Kate didn't have to ride it down through France. Daniel arranged for Peters and Cath to stay in a nice hotel nearby and at the end of the week they picked the bike up again and drove it back to London.
This year was slightly different however. Firstly, because we'd come straight from New York, they were carrying our bike as well. But also, at the end of the week, instead of driving back to London, they'd be continuing on to Provence and leaving both the van and the bikes at Carole's, ready for when Daniel and Kate came to visit her later in August. Then, they'd catch a flight back to London and at the end of August Peters would fly back out to Provence and drive everything back.
Although Peters must have known about my relationship with Daniel he was the soul of discretion. At first he'd addressed me as Miss Lesley but since Steven and I got married it was Mrs Carter. Peters was always formal. You addressed him as Peters (which was his surname) and he addressed you as Sir or Madam, or if he knew you well, he'd call you by your surname.
The exception was Steven who, having once been in a position to do Peters a favour, got to call him by his first name, Ian. In return Peters called Steven by his first name too, or occasionally 'Stevie Boy' if they were both 'off duty'.
Cath and I had a cup of tea and a chat while Steven and Peters manhandled the heavy bikes out of the back of the van. Along with the bikes there was also some of our luggage which a bellboy whisked away on a trolley once it had been decanted from the van.
When the boys came to join us they ordered some beers and the four of us sat in the afternoon sun.
"So, you're heading down to Provence at the end of the week," I said to Peters.
"That's right," he replied. "We're to leave the van and the bike with Mrs Dubois.
Although Carole and Fabien had separated, Carole was, for the time being at least, still called Mrs Dubois. It didn't sound right. She'd kept the name Davidson when she and Daniel had divorced but Carole couldn't really go back to that now. So I wasn't really sure what she was going to call herself in the future.
"It's a terrible shame about Mrs Dubois and her husband," Cath ventured, which earned her a look from Peters that suggested she was entering forbidden territory.
"It is," I told Cath. "But Carole's a strong woman. She'll bounce back."
"You're going to visit her?" Peters asked.
"Yep," Steven replied. "We've got a detour to make to Germany first then we're heading over to spend the rest of August with her."
"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," he said, "although how you can be in the same house as those dogs of hers I don't know."
Carole's guard dogs were two fearsome Rhodesian Ridgebacks called Donald and Mickey. They looked imposing and they certainly acted the part but if you were a friend then they were just two very loving bundles of fun.
"You know Donald sleeps on our bed at night," I told Peters, "and Mickey sleeps on the rug,"
"I couldn't be doing with that," Peters admitted. "I'd be too worried they'd savage me in my sleep."
