Returning From a Passionate Affair

She remembered the week, lying back in the seat on the airliner, on her way home. She was tired, it had been a long week, and the tingle in her pussy and the memories brought back a smile to her face, as she snuggled into the seat.

She remembered the arrival, how excited she had been on the trip over, and as the hour approached when the aircraft would reach the destination airport, how she could feel her heard beating, and her cheeks flushing with anticipation. Wishing she had been in private, so she could have reached down and played with herself, she was that excited. So long she had imagined meeting, and now the time was less than an hour away.

She had wondered what he would be like, how he would talk, what his face would look like as he spoke, whether his smile would reach his deep eyes, what he would smell like, what his hands would feel like touching her. She knew so much about him, and yet, she realised, she didn't know him at all. The exoticness of meeting a stranger, a soon-to-be lover, it made the future into an exciting mystery, an adventure that left her with her breath catching in her throat.

When the plane touched down, she felt her heart leap, like it would explode. The reality of what she was doing came crashing down on her, and she remembered how close to tears she had been, how it seemed like she was leaving all of the world she had known before behind her, how in such a short time, her whole life would change irrevocably.

She hesitated; staying in her seat while all around her the other passengers hurriedly stood and started collecting their belongings from the lockers. Then as the passageways began to clear, she stood slowly, reaching for the bag from above her head, then joining the end of the line of people, all the while her heart in her throat. She was anything but turned on now; frightened, lonely, and lost.

Down the long narrow passage leading from the aircraft to the terminus, through immigration, picking up a weeks worth of luggage, then finding her way out via customs to the labyrinth of halls and corridors, then the open expanse of the airport lounge and the sea of waiting faces. Worse than the knowledge that he was there waiting for her was the possibility that he wasn't... she began to scan the faces anxiously.

Movement caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a man moving towards her. "Tall," was her first thought. Then his face caught her attention, the concerned expression, and the hands clutching a single white rose. She could see his nervousness, his care and concern, and then in a rush, she was there clutching him.

The feeling of his arms around her made her melt, her face pressed into his chest. She could hear the rumble in his chest as he kissed the top of her head and welcomed her, finally. She looked up at his face, and there, for the first time, in the airport, they kissed.

She remembered his taste, and the smile on his face afterwards, and even now they made her smile longingly. At the time, all she could think about was the feel of him against her, and his smell, and the thudding of her own heart.

When they broke apart with a laugh, she remembered the welcome in his words, and in the laughing creases around his eyes. He had given her the rose (now a little crushed), which she raised to smell while watching him. Then taking her bags, he led her out of the airport to where the car was parked.

It was only in the car as they drove from the airport, and she looked at the unfamiliar city around them, and continued to steal glances at him across the small space between them, that the reality of what she had begun started to sink in. The life she had left behind, and even her marriage, meant nothing to the moment. Everything was new, and her whole being was focused entirely on him. The fear was back with the enormity of it all, and it was all that she could do to restrain tears. Instead, she concentrated on listening to him, watching him, responding to his nervous jokes in kind, laughing with him.

At the end of one of her joking replies, he had casually rested a hand on her bare knee. Like the closing of a door, her fear had instantly disappeared, and the sheer sexuality of the moment had registered. She had felt her nipples start to harden, and she gasped at the shock of lust that hit her body. Hearing her gasp, he had started to remove his hand contritely, but her own hands had taken his and pressed it into her knee.

Then as he still drove, she had taken that hand, and gradually moved it up her leg, and her legs had parted, and she had pushed his hand slowly up her inner thigh, beneath her short skirt, and up to where his fingers were discovering her wet pussy lips, devoid of panties. She remembered him gasping then, and herself groaning as his fingers slid between her lips and into her wet cunt.

Incredibly wet, sopping, his long fingers had pushed into her cunt, then out again, and she had been so turned on, and so pent-up for so long, that when his fingers had slid up from her cunt between her lips and over her clitoris, she had cried out, and in an instant, gasping, her legs open wide, clutching his hand to her, she had cum.

God, even now the memory turned her on! And it had turned him on, she could remember the bulge in his trousers clearly. Tempted as she had been to do something about it, they were in thick traffic now, so she had refrained. "Where are you taking me?" she had asked him breathily.

"Well," he had answered her, "I thought you would be tired from all that time cooped up in the plane, so I have a room with a view, a hot spa pool to soak in, and a cold bottle of champagne."

"Oh god," she had replied, then giggled. "Are we there yet?"

"Not too long, but we have to make our way across town first. The view is worth it."

"Nothing is worth it," she had frowned at him. "I want you, now!"

"Sorry honey. Not long, I promise."

It was worth the wait, she remembered. The view out on the harbour from the balcony was fantastic, and the sea breeze that entered the room in cool gusts, leaving her bare skin feeling just a little damp, she could still taste in her memories. She recalled standing at the open doorway, the white net curtain billowing out around her, dressed only in satin, looking out at dawn over the lights of the harbour, and his hands on her skin behind her.

He must have checked in before she arrived, because he had led her straight to the elevator, carrying her bags himself all the way. She didn't recall much about the room, except the large bed and the large bath and the harbour view. At the time, all she had cared about was him standing next to her, the closing door, and the large bed.

As soon as he'd dropped the bags, she'd pushed him back onto the bed, and while he was still laughing, she'd ripped open his trousers, and drawn his cock into her mouth. He had gasped, and almost instantly become hard, and she had crawled up his body, and without hesitation, thrown her lap over his crotch and plunged his cock right up into the depths of her still wet cunt.

They'd fucked like that, with their clothes still on, him pawing his way under her blouse to bite her nipples, until they had both cum, her before him. Then they had stayed with her lying on top of him, him still inside her, and held each other close, kissing, talking, and just laughing at finally being together, finally being able to make love, to touch each other, to kiss.

And now that memory, and all of the subsequent times they had loved each other, pleasured each other, held each other, were flooding through her. She could feel the wetness between her legs, and undid the lap-belt on the seat, making her way to a toilet so she could play with herself, to cum again, remembering all of those events.