Belle

The quick jolt of turbulence shook her awake from the travel slumber. In minutes, the flight crew was in full bustle just as the First Officer came on to announce the beginning of their descent towards JFK airport.

As she cleared the sleep haze, Belle's glance lazily climbed her long, nylon-covered legs. Up from her new, black patent leather Christian Louboutins to the hem of her tight-fitting pencil skirt. The hint of the lace band revealed the elegance of thigh high stockings in lieu of the practicality of pantyhose. As she shifted in her seat, a smirk emerged with the delicate feel of the La Perla silk thong against her smooth shaved cunt.

How wicked the sensation indeed. Without looking, Belle knew how swollen her labia were. The wetness between her legs to be sure was a sensuous mixture of her excitement with his. She had grown to revel knowing each time he finished in her that she would have the satisfaction of feeling his warm cum drip out of her for the rest of the night or day.

Belle gazed to the left out her cloud-filled window, but saw only his reflection. Alexander. Her husband of two months.

Belle's nipples stiffened as she turned her head back to the right to catch a deep satisfying breath of his earthy cologne. Dressed in his crisp business suit, sipping his expresso, Alexander appeared as if he was gracing a Forbes magazine cover. Every inch of this man sent tingling sensations through Belle she had never known the likes of before.

The sights and sounds of Paris for a long weekend now winding to a close. But all she could muster was memory after memory of him fucking her. She had pleaded for a romance-filled getaway. But such fulfillment, she had not hoped for.

The hours had flowed from one sexual fantasy to another. In the hotel room upon arrival. In the shower before dinner. On the hotel balcony after dinner. Him inside her as he spooned her after midnight. Her riding him as the sunlight broke through the curtains the next morning. And then the next day.

Yes, she knew she would be sore for a week. But a sacrifice any woman would make in a heartbeat.

Just last week, the foreseeable future was work and no play. Belle was nursing mindlessly on her dangling eyeglasses as she keyboarded yet another set of project data. The rhythm of her fingers broke only as her iPhone began to chirp repeatedly announcing the message arrival.

Cryptic. "La Première suites. Heels, stockings and nothing else." Belle loved mystery.

That evening, Belle awaited Alexander in the lounge of Le Bernadin. Business notwithstanding, Alexander was never late. So Belle always made it a point to be early. The corner table at the far side of the bar always allowed her to display herself so that Alexander would be the envy of every man (and woman) upon his arrival.

Tonight was no exception. Wolford style the choice. The Fatal dress hugged every curve of her 36D-24-34 toned figure. The Twenties Stay-Ups embellished her legs. The flirty fishnet thigh highs made her seem more statuesque than her 5'5" height, even capped with the 4" lift of her Jimmy Choo Mutya stiletto heels.

Belle had several Wolford Fatal dresses from which to choose, but opted for Chianti Red. The sheerness of the dress revealed her large, pink areolas in any lighter color. Sure, the protrusion of her erect nipples anytime she was braless would not be less discreet. But only the closest viewers would be distracted by the display. And this evening she wished that to be Alexander alone.

As she slid across the lounge seat to greet Alexander as arrived, Belle felt the cool air waft against her bare pussy. Freshly shaved before she slipped the thin dress on. As ordered, heels, stockings and nothing else.

But as it turned out, Belle's gift was premature. Alexander leaned forward with one of his own. Amethyst adorned Tiffany Paloma Picasso drop earrings.

"To match your eyes. These would look a fabulous sight, especially swinging to and fro."

"And what might bring about such a motion?" Belle replied seductively.

Belle's lemon drop martini seemed even sweeter as Alexander painted her a visual picture of the new La Première suites on the Air France flight to Paris. Privacy may be illusive and costly on a commercial airline. But Belle's lips robustly against Alexander's was all the price of admission necessary.

As Belle zipped up her carry-on luggage and turned, her iPhone interrupted again, signaling the start of the adventure to come. The clack of her sling-back heels on the wood floors closely following by the ground hum of her roller bag was a fine bon voyage.

The car service sped Belle and Alexander uneventfully to JFK to catch the evening flight. Belle's travel couture was a Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress in a snow leopard design. Providing comfort and access to anything that would lie ahead. Classically alluring.

As the passing streetlights on the Grand Central Parkway gave rise to one shadow after another, Alexander's hand deftly parted Belle's dress. Without hesitation, he was exploring the upper limits of Belle's thigh. She smiled as she knew that the Maison Close Pure Tentation cat suit underneath was a pleasing discovery for Alexander. No doubt the TSA scanners too would be happy beneficiaries of the lingerie choice.

The La Première suites on board configured nicely to allow Belle and Alexander to dine together. The wine and surprisingly fine food made fitting accompaniments to the Mile High Club seduction.

As the aircraft lifted past the Labrador Coast, the cabin lights dimmed and the crew service faded into the background. The First Class flight attendants feigned disinterest in the palpable chemistry between the sexy couple.

Monique leaned into her Purser's side with a slight nod in the direction of Seat 2L. The 24-year old from the tiny town of Miribel in eastern France had dreamed of flying off to exotic lands ever since she was a little girl. Now a tall 175 cm with pomegranate hair and a lean figure, Monique had rebuffed more than a couple serious modeling offers for service as a hôtesse de l'air.

Like the passengers and her crewmates, Monique was enthralled by Belle and Alexander from the moment they boarded the aircraft. Not celebrities as far as she knew, but something instantly captivating. Gracious for sure. And focused without aloofness.

Monique's whisper fell almost inaudible. "Attendre, regardez . . . . Wait, look."

As the suite curtains drew closed, the reading light inside was all that remained to illuminate the scene. Every voyeuristic instinct compelled Monique to lean forward, only the bulkhead holding her steady.

She saw Alexander rise and imagined the commanding voice that caused Belle to move forward in her seat to match him. The healthy air flow in the first class cabin would deny Monique any aural satisfaction.

As Belle orchestrated the removal of Alexander's belt and guided his boxer briefs down past his thighs, Monique swallowed involuntarily. The profile of these attractive passengers engaging in oral sex just steps from her would be etched in Monique's memories forever. The brazenness was electrifying.

Watching Belle's glossy, painted lips engulfing Alexander's prominent cock exceeded any fantasy Monique had dared.

Fellating Alexander was far from a chore for Belle. She luxuriated in his cock being in her mouth. Her tongue loved bathing his head. Covering each inch of his shaft with long, deliberate licks.

Monique felt the tightening of her nipples and the tingling that ran down between her legs. The excitement surprised her, reminding Monique that a sensual woman with wants and needs now embodied the small town girl inside.

As the flush continued to overtake her body, Monique was treated to Belle shedding her silk wrap dress. The sight of the lady sheathed in her cat suit was stunning. Monique, of course, had seen other women, her female co-workers and roommates, in underwear before. But nothing came close to the erotic event before her now.

The sheer material strained to encase Belle's beautiful, full breasts. Still in her stiletto heels, Belle's legs were shapely and toned. Nothing shy of a thoroughbred's.

With almost feline grace, Belle turned to assume her favorite position, at least outside the boudoir. Steadying her grip on the seat back as Alexander moved behind her, Belle turned her head to follow his gaze. Her sultry smile and approving nod. The unequivocal invitation to mount her. Belle's eyes belied any resistance her low moans may have offered.

The enjoyment of sucking Alexander's cock always made Belle's pussy nice and wet. Between that and her saliva still glistening on his penis, she knew her pussy would accept him readily. Still, that initial thrust, as he firmly slid his cock into her, evoked a gasp of delight that never ceased to amaze her.

Belle had only a handful of lovers before Alexander. Her recollection now was that they were all boys despite their maturity. That colored hindsight was unquestionably ruled by the fabulous fucking she was now receiving.

Before Alexander, her sexual repertoire was limited to missionary position with a condom until her partner climaxed. Belle had always thought that the female orgasm depended on manual clitoral stimulation. Stories otherwise were the stuff of urban myth, she mused. Mutual climax meant she brought herself off with her hand after sex.

But the first time Alexander made love to Belle, her world view changed instantly. She had never felt a man inside her until that moment. In that twilight, she recognized immediately that Alexander's penis was longer and thicker than those she encountered with prior boyfriends. But she did not appreciate what a difference it would truly mean.

Belle was overtaken by sensations previously unbeknownst. It seemed like every inch of Alexander's hard cock was touching parts of her vagina for the first time.

The awkwardness of sex with a new partner did not materialize with this man. Alexander fucked Belle into her first orgasm during intercourse. Belle laid there unbelieving what had happened. The experience was so novel, they paused to allow the reality to set in, before continuing their lovemaking into the early morning.

What happened in the weeks afterwards seemed to be a string of shattered misconceptions about sex that Belle had held as unfortunate truths. Multiple orgasm, orgasm on top, orgasm doggie style. Now she knew. Alexander was able to bring Belle off without any clitoral stimulation. Her first vaginal orgasm brought sounds of satisfaction, as well as tears, to this 34-year old that she did not know were within her.

Being fucked from behind became Belle's guilty pleasure. And if not just that, she relished oral sex, giving and receiving. Tasting him. Begging him to finish in her mouth. Swallowing, always. Once bright lines. Now erased until no lines were discernible.

Belle's reminiscence this evening especially swirled around a hotel adventure the first time Alexander fucked her from behind. Pressed against the floor to ceiling window. An arousing display of steamy hand and breast impressions for the fortuitous onlookers in the adjacent high rise. Belle had never even fantasized about being fucked like this. Ever. In clear view. Oh my.

A fleeting thought that none of her past lovers had been long enough to take her this way. The disappointing inability of her first boyfriend to stay inside her when they made a feeble attempt at the position. Poor guy, he was just too small to make it work.

The flashback giving way to the exquisite feeling of Alexander in her again and again. No question his cock was pure perfection for her. But it was the power. Belle was so turned on by the power of his thrusts, the power he had to take her, the power he had to make her come. Animalistic power.

"Yes, yes, that's it . . . . Fuck me harder, that's right, do me."

She found herself repeating these same words as her focus returned to the curtained first class cubicle. Belle knew from the taste of pre-cum on Alexander's cock earlier that he would be ready. But she also knew he would fuck her until she came first. He always saw to that.

So she bent her knees just a bit more to allow Alexander's thrusts to reach the deepest part of her womb. Caring not for an understanding of anatomy and physiology, Belle never tried to figure out the dynamics of their coupling. It was enough that she could just feel his cock bring her to the place that would carry her helplessly to climax.

As Belle came, she rocked back on her heels. As her vaginal spasms began to subside, she felt Alexander flood her insides. "That's right, babe . . . . I can feel you spurting in me . . . . I want it, give it all to me."

Monique was transfixed. She had never seen anything so erotic. Not on film, not in her dreams. Definitely not in such real proximity. The lump in her throat took more than a second to clear. She felt her whole body flush with desire.

And as if by encore, Belle turned around, moving once again down onto her knees. Taking Alexander's still hard cock and licking him clean. Belle rose to kiss a breathless Alexander. Coating both their lips with each other's sexual fluids was always the most loving affection.

Monique stood in continued awe. And then her ankle gave way slightly to misbalance. Enough to alert at least one of the spent couple of the pretty flight attendant's presence.

With her hands still embracing Alexander, Belle peered through the curtains and mirrored Monique's stare with conviction. Expressionless, but with unmistakable acknowledgement of the publicity of the display. The satiated predator. Unrepentant.

Suddenly taken with propriety, Monique retreated first, moving back behind the bulkhead. With the majority of the night flight in front of them, Monique raised not one eyebrow among her crew team when she excused herself for an extended restroom refresh.

Monique could not recall her body ever being so uncontrollably aroused. In the stark light of the restroom, Monique looked at her reflection into the eyes of a stranger. She saw a woman rubbing her breasts. Squeezing her nipples roughly through her lace bra. Her other hand moving inside the crotch of her pantyhose. Quickly. Vigorously. Purposefully.

In seconds, Monique climaxed. But it was almost unsatisfying. A release without relief. In the blink of an eye, Monique's little girl inside scolded her back to her duty station. A hand wash. A lipstick touch up. A covered blush the only betrayal of the masturbatory blur.

When the cabin lights illuminated to herald the morning landing, the other First Class suite occupants showed no awareness of the sexual frenzy that had taken place within their sensory limits.

Belle's interest was captured by the glimpse of a perfectly coiffed flight attendant down on one knee before Alexander. Belle wondered how much of an up skirt display Alexander was being treated to.

The flight attendant soon rose and spun around on her heels to resume her duties in the galley. The residual was small notecard Monique had placed nonchalantly on Alexander's seat desk. Belle watched further as Alexander retrieved the note and placed it unread in the stowage pocket.

Inside the airport terminal, Belle squeezed Alexander's arm as their arrival was announced by the triumphant sounds of her heels on the concourse. In her most mischievous tone, Belle inquired of Alexander, "So you made a new friend among the flight crew, I see."

Alexander chuckled his reply, "It is you, my sweet, who made quite the impression. Nothing more than reflexive social mores that brought her to me for us. Poor thing. She could barely broach the subject."

True, Belle remembered Monique's eyes from last night. "What did she want?"

"Monique sought our pardon for her intrusion into our privacy after dinner."

"And?" Belle pried.

"And she offered her informal services as a guide to our brief stay in the City of Lights."

"You dismissed her?"

"Ambiguity was my only demurrer. I told her we would be staying at the Hôtel Plaza Athénée and that perhaps fate would cross our paths again."

Belle wrapped her arm even more tightly around Alexander's. "Our weekend fate awaits."