As airplane rides go, this was a good one. Rich had a window seat and the middle seat was unoccupied. The scenery was, however, better to his left than it was looking out the window. The isle seat was occupied by a woman in her late thirties, perhaps early forties. She wore a short leather skirt and a light blouse to accommodate the warm weather. He estimated her breasts to be about a perfect 36 C. The chore of arriving at that estimate was eased by the fact that she wore no bra. The au natural look coupled with the tightness of the garment would have allowed Stevie Wonder to have come close to accurately assessing the acreage involved. More importantly, the nipples were of the half-inch variety. He immediately was imagining her nipples in an excited state; three quarters of an inch at minimum he surmised. With this view the five-hour trip would certainly take no more than half the time.
About thirty minutes in the air and Rich realized that his personal in-flight movie "Nipples" staring Miss Fortyish was not occupying his attention. Instead he was focusing his thoughts on the purpose of his trip. "This is silly" he thought and returned his gaze from the window to Miss Fortyish's marvels. She caught him looking and the attention of his eyes was obvious. To his relief she smiled.
Two minutes later he found himself staring out of the window again. Reality set in that despite this wonderful distraction, he was doomed to his mind being held captive by the reason he was voluntarily on an airplane that was not a business trip. And he realized that despite the "nothing ventured, nothing gained" attitude he had professed to himself for the past two weeks, there was indeed a great amount of anxiety associated with this trip.
They were about to meet after months of exchanging emails. Meeting people via the computer was kind of corny, perhaps even risky, but she had made it feel safe and it seemed like the natural thing to do. Via the computer screen, they had talked about everything; their jobs, families, relationship histories, hobbies, goals, and of course, more intimate details, like sexual proclivities: things they enjoyed, things they wanted to try, and things they wouldn't. They had exchanged photos, and he found her attractive. After the one telephone conversation, which seemed to flow effortlessly, they arranged the meeting.
All of this was going through Rich's mind as along with failed relationships, false starts and a myriad of other disappointments. "What am I doing, why am I doing this? Flying across the country for another Mars/Venus conflict. Maybe the plane will develop a mechanical problem and we will have to turn back." He recognized that his anxiety was beginning to run rampant and convinced himself that this wasn't a lark, that Anne was really worth the trip. He felt that he had really gotten to know her and she him. This wasn't the classic blind date guessing game. Through their extensive discussion, albeit written, they knew each others values, likes and dislikes, etc. They discovered that they had many common interests including an irreverent sense of humor. With this calmer reasoning during the last hour of the trip, he arrived actually surprisingly relaxed because he knew what to expect probably more so than any first date he had ever experienced.
He rang the doorbell, feeling calm as he waited for her to answer. He was immediately caught off guard by her appearance. She looked so innocent. Where was the mischievous Anne, the woman who liked excitement? Her dress looked liked something a grammar school teacher would wear. This was the woman with the wicked fantasies? He was immediately overwhelmed as all of the anxieties of the flight converged on him at once. Unable to hear what she was saying, he felt paralyzed. His first conscious thought was how quickly he could return to the airport.
Rich's reaction was not well veiled and Anne became similarly off balance. "Is something wrong" she queried?
"Certainly there is something wrong. What happened to the sexy, adventurous woman I have been talking to the last couple of months? I think I have made a big mistake."
Somewhat shaken she responded," I'm not sure I know what you mean. What did you expect?"
"For one thing I didn't expect to be greeted by someone dressed like an old maid school teacher."
Anne very calmly said, "Would you like me to change?"
"That would be a good start" Rich replied icily.
Anne left the room. As she entered her bedroom a smile emerged on her face. "What a relief!" Anne had her own anxieties about this first meeting. She was attracted to Rich and the more she communicated with him, the stronger the feeling became. There was, however, one lingering doubt. She wanted, no she needed a strong man. She had spent enough time with men who were "nice," but nice wasn't what turned her on. She needed a take charge guy and she had her doubts about Rich. During the preceding week she had thought," What if he isn't? I'll be stuck with him all weekend. I should have traveled to California. I could have bluntly said that it wouldn't work out and immediately retuned home."
That is when she devised her plan. It was high risk, but this simple test would answer her question without wasting time. Rich had communicated his craving for sexy attire numerous times and likely would expect her to dress accordingly. Perhaps not in "fuck me" clothes, but certainly something alluring, something which highlighted her nipples. Anne didn't even own the type of "test dress" she had in mind and had to borrow conservative dress from her neighbor. If he didn't respond to this bland dress, or did so only mildly, she would have her answer – another nice, weak guy.
Rich's response was such a relief she almost laughed aloud in the entryway. Still smiling she thought to herself, "Good start, now we can start getting to know each other and move along with the other test I have in mind to see whether he may a soul mate."
She had picked out three outfits in the event that his response was a positive one. She had decided on #3, but quickly tried each one on again to make sure.
"Number 2 may not make the impact I want. Number 1 is too dressy for the next step. Yes, #3 will be a good start. Now on to the next test.
Anne detoured to the kitchen to collect the bottle of champagne and two flutes to toast their meeting. Carrying the celebration bubbly she entered the room and remarked, "An improvement?"
"Infinitely" Rich said.
"Somehow I thought you might like this outfit and I have got a veritable fashion show planned for the weekend."
"Anne, if you thought I might like it, why the librarian costume?"
Anne deliberated briefly and then blurted out her week's anxiety and what caused her to devise her plan.
"Let's see if you finished the job." Rich was hoping Anne's pussy was freshly shaved. "Bend over please"
"Very nice. You know Anne, there are other less drastic ways that you could have found out what you wanted. Do you think that God gave us tongues just to lick pussies? You could have talked with me about your anxieties, but apparently you liked your approach better. If you want to act like a bitch, I guess I'll have to treat you like a bitch." He pulled her to him and pressed the full length of his body against hers. She wriggled against him, felling the bulge in his jeans against her. Rich quickly ran one hand up the inside of her thigh and brushed his fingers against her outer pussy lips, tickling them lightly. "You are such a naughty girl, aren't you?" he queried idly. "Did your little game excite you? Or have you been playing with yourself?"
Anne's breathing had quickened as his fingers kept teasing her. He gently forced her legs further apart by putting his between them, and her pussy lips parted. "Wet already my dear? Apparently you want this," he told her matter-of-factly. He wound her hair firmly around his other hand, pulling her head back to expose her throat to his tongue. "Alright, go ahead and check it out" and her fingers were on his zipper before he finished the sentence.
"Tell me," he whispered between licks of her neck. "Tell me what you want." His fingers were running back and forth through her wetness, touching her lips, but stopping just short of her clit. He would circle her hole with a fingertip, but never penetrated her.
Anne moaned, but didn't answer. She had forgotten about her "tests," all she could think about was how hot and moist her pussy was, and how much she wanted him to thrust his fingers deep inside her and rub her clit until she exploded. She said nothing, even though her moans increased in volume as he taunted her body.
"Oh, ok, I guess you don't want me to touch you then, " he said as he pulled his hands away. He picked up the bottle of champagne and walked to her bedroom. Anne followed.
