I was thrilled when the airline offered me an upgrade to first class and I could enjoy my red-eye flight in the roomier seats up front with fewer people to disturb me. What I wasn't expecting was the man I'd be seated next to, namely, you. You graciously help me to settle in and buckle up, and we sit through the routine procedures before takeoff. We make small talk but my mind isn't on the conversation. I'm focused on how undeniably sexy you are. I can tell right now by how you're sitting and how you wear your clothes that you are a man who's confident in your own skin. The set of your mouth, also; the way your lips curl up in an easy smile when something amuses you. Lips I want to run my fingertips along before kissing.
My eyes are darting around quickly so I don't look obvious as I assess you as much as possible. They finally rest on your hands. I am glued to your hands resting in your lap as you tell me the reason for your trip tonight. I love men's hands and I love what they can do to me, and I all can think of is the pleasure they might bring me if I were ever so lucky to have you for one night.
The stewardess has come by and offered beverages before the lights go out for the duration of the flight and because I think my nerves need it, I order an alcoholic drink. You simply get water, making me feel foolish for needing the support of alcohol. I'm looking for a calming influence but forget until I finish the drink that at that altitude, alcohol is much more potent and I feel lighter for it but I am also now more lustful, just staring at your hands wide-eyed. I'm sure you wonder what's wrong with me but I can't make myself have a proper conversation. The talk dwindles down and you reach for a magazine while I reach for a light blanket. I'm not cold and have never used one before on a flight but I feel fidgety and need to hide that from the world. The cabin is soon darkened and the other passengers settle in for some sleep during the long night.
You've kept the light on for reading but turn to ask if it's disturbing me. You're a little startled to find me staring at you with obvious heat. Without waiting for my response, you tuck the magazine away and turn off the light. As our eyes adjust to the darkness, you reach under the blanket to find my hands clasped tightly together in an attempt for control. You loosen my grip and slip your fingers thru mine and we sit holding hands. To anyone looking over, we would seem like a couple relaxing together, when in fact I am buzzing with need and you are feeding off that. I remain motionless as you idly stroke your thumb down to the inside of my wrist and back up. My nerve endings are on fire. Back and forth your thumb goes and I squirm under the blanket, a little breathless. I look around nervously but everyone seems to be fast asleep. You reach over with your other hand and run it teasingly up my forearm, barely making contact. You pull the blanket towards you so that we're both now covered and our activities can go unnoticed, and the stroking continues. Staying silent requires an inordinate amount of energy and I feel mildly faint from everything stirring inside me.
You lift the arm rest and unbuckle me, and drag me up onto your lap. I nervously lick my lips and look down on you. I glance around one more time at the sleeping passengers around us before your fingers slip around the back of my neck and pull me to your waiting mouth. The kiss is electric. Your lips are soft and gentle and your tongue gently slips in and explores my mouth. I melt into you, pressing my mouth to yours to deepen the kiss. I feel you grow hard under me. I quell my rising moan and the heat between increases as we kiss grows in passion and need.
I pull away and stand in the aisle. You look at me questioningly and I reach out my hand to you, pulling you up out of your seat and next to me, before walking towards the lavatory hand-in-hand with you. At this point, all my inhibitions have evaporated and I don't care if everyone on the plane knows what where we are going and why.
