Bliss at 40000 Feet

When you travel for a living, one airport tends to look like another. A hotel in London might as well be in Chicago, and the meal on one long flight is the one you'd swear you'd eaten last week, a month ago, last year.

But then, sometimes travel has its perks, a moment that remains with you for a long time. Or forever.

I don't know what I remember best about Katarina. It might have been her uniform, a navy blue skirt that hugged her shapely hips, the matching jacket with narrow lapels on which she pinned her small nameplate and gold wings. It might have been her smile, equal parts happiness and mischief, that spread until it produced a deep, infectious laugh. Or her warm hands. Or her hot, wet mouth.

I'm thinking now that it was all of the above, each and every part of her layered to make her whole. And I still get short of breath when I think of being the willing pawn in an erotic game: sitting in the galley at the rear of the plane, my trousers at my ankles with Katarina kneeling between my legs, another flight attendant named Gabriele standing guard in case of a wandering passenger, and a third, Petra, boldly watching us.

I can scarcely believe it happened on this flight from New York to Frankfurt, eight-plus hours flown mostly over a dark sea, leaving at dinner-hour and arriving, with the change in time zones, in time for breakfast.

A flight attendant's lot is not an easy one, especially on these long hauls. For her, it's two hours of frenzy, preparing meals, feeding and cleaning up the trays of passengers, squeezing down too-narrow aisles, being bumped and jostled by turbulent air and the ill-mannered. Once the first of two movies is underway, she retreats to the relative quiet of the galley for four hours of boredom, followed by another two hours of gently waking those who have managed to grab a few winks, hot-towelling them back into the land of the living, serving a snack and preparing the plane for arrival.

It was during yet another horrible movie, one that had flickered on the screens of three of my flights that month, that I did as I usually do on a transoceanic trip: I got up and walked, to the front of the aircraft, then to the back, stretching my legs and exercising my mind.

"May I help you?"

I heard her voice before I saw her, then recognized her as one of the attendants who worked the starboard side of the plane, opposite me. She was sitting in one of the fold-down seats in the galley, two of her fellow attendants doing likewise.

"Just going for a walk," I said to her. "I see you're finally able to get off your feet... Katarina."

She glanced down to her nameplate, seeing where I'd learned her name.

"A short break, yes," she said through a soft German accent, nodding with a smile.

I had taken note of her during the meal service, and wished she had been working my aisle of the plane. Not that there was anything wrong with the other two women in this small cabin – Petra and Gabriele, I would learn – but there was something about Katarina...

She was tall, about 5-foot-9, with short brown hair, layered and streaked with a few highlights, that perfectly framed her lovely face, dimple and a sexy, small mole on her left cheek. Her smile lit up the galley. I could only imagine what she looked like beneath her functional if elegant uniform, a matching pleated navy skirt and blazer, aquamarine and gold silk scarf and low-heeled black leather shoes. Her gold wings sparkled on her lapel.

The four of us made small talk, the women laughing easily and teasing each other with subtle things only they understood. Then Gabriele excused herself to answer the call of a passenger, and Petra got up to stow a few things in the galley's stainless-steel cabinets, organizing things for the morning snack and coffee that would be served when we neared Frankfurt. She was still within earshot of my conversation with Katarina, but otherwise occupied with her work.

"How often do you fly this route?" I asked her, settling into one of the vacant seats. "And please call me Robert."

"Too often for my liking," she replied, her voice nearly lost in the drone of the engines. "It does nothing at all for the internal clock."

Another thing I didn't envy about her work: she crossed time zones like most people crossed the street, sleeping when the body said it should be awake, eating lunch when it would have preferred to be asleep.

For 15 minutes we chatted about her work, and mine, Petra still at work in the galley. I figured that Gabriele, still not back, was working from the galley midship, tending to those who weren't interested in the movie or sleep.

There was a reason these three women laughed easily and seemed to finish each other's sentences. Eight years earlier, they had gone through flight-training school together, and this airline saw that women who knew each other were kept together as a team wherever possible. Katarina, Gabriele and Petra were as close as sisters, and now there was a communication, an exchange of knowing glances that I couldn't decipher going on between the two in the galley.

"What am I missing?" I said, playing along as best I could.

"Missing?"

Katarina shot a look at Petra, and both women burst out laughing.

"Robert, you've caught us," Petra said. "But this might be kind of hard to explain."

"I'm a captive audience, and I'm going nowhere for the next four hours," I replied, feeling a blush in my cheeks.

Katarina studied me for a moment, and then she began, so quietly I had to lean in closer to hear her words.

"Robert, this is hard to explain," she started. "You know that Petra and Gabriele and I have been flying together for some time, right?"

I nodded, as Petra took her seat.

"Well, you can imagine there are long, boring hours to kill on these transoceanic flights. We've come up with what we think is a pretty good game. We don't play it on every flight, the conditions have to be exactly right."

My mind was racing, without anywhere specific to race.

"Robert," Petra added, "this gets a little naughty. Say the word now if you don't want to hear the rest."

"Are you kidding me?" I said. "Tell me more."

Katarina cleared her throat and looked at her smiling friend. Petra reached to Katarina's knee and patted it, leaving it on her thigh, just below the hem of her skirt, for a lingering moment.

"Robert, sometimes, but only sometimes, we find a male passenger like you to talk to. Sitting back here, like this. And if he's willing, he plays this game with us."

I looked from Katarina to Petra without a word.

"Before we board the plane, we draw straws to see who wins, who watches, and who stands guard."

I hoped I didn't look as stunned as I felt.

"Who wins... what?" I said.

"Robert, it is our little game to satisfy one male passenger. Orally. One of us performs the act, one earns the right to watch, and the third stands guard in the aisle, just to make sure no other passenger wanders back here."

I tried to speak, but the words sounded more like a gargle deep in my throat. Both women laughed at my obvious discomfort, until Petra reached over and put her hand on my thigh, squeezed and said, "So what do you say, Robert? Do you want to play with us?"

I nodded, slowly at first, then with much greater enthusiasm.

"Robert," Katarina said, "I won the draw. Petra will watch. And Gabriele will stand guard. OK?"

"Yes," I almost squeaked in reply, this the woman for whom I had a particular fondness. "Yes."

Katarina looked to Petra with a broad smile, then reached up to the call button and illuminated it with a push of her finger.

"Gabriele will join us in a moment," Petra said, standing up, smoothing her skirt. "Would you like something to drink in the meantime?"

"Water would be fine," I managed.

I was sipping from the glass when Gabriele appeared, and smiled as she looked from Petra to Katarina.

"Mmm, he has said yes?"

"Yes, he has," I said, laughing nervously, suddenly feeling wonderfully outnumbered. "Imagine that."

Gabriele smiled, then said, "I'm beginning to think this game is fixed. Katarina has won the last three flights."

"Just lucky," Katarina replied. "Not to worry, dear, your straw will come."

"Well," Gabriele said, looking at my lap, "it seems that you're ready to enjoy."

I had felt a great swelling in my groin when the plan was hatched, and I was growing no more comfortable by the moment. Gabriele patted me on the shoulder and took a few steps out of the galley, where she stood as if merely to observe the dark, mostly slumbering airplane in front of her.

"Robert, you don't mind if I watch? It is part of the game, you know."

I looked at Petra and shook my head, then nearly jumped when I felt Katarina's hands on my knees, beckoning me to stand.

"Honey," she said, easing herself down to her knees, undoing my belt and drawing down the zipper with great care, "you'll need to be out of these trousers. And don't worry. Gabriele wouldn't let the Pope into this galley now."

"He'd get an eyeful," I said, now on rubbery legs.

As I did, my pants falling to my ankles, Katarina placed her hand squarely on the prominent bulge that was at her eye level, giving it a tender squeeze. I was aching, and I looked down at her, then to Petra, who was still in her seat, afforded a clear view of what was happening, and what was to come.

"This is for me, Robert? This is very nice," she said, her thumbs hooking into the waistband of my briefs. She pulled them very slowly, my erection easing gratefully free, pointing sharply at Katarina as the cotton travelled past my thighs and down to join my trousers, balled at my ankles.

My cockhead was swollen and spongy, and a single thick blue vein ran almost from my balls, across the shaft and curled to just beneath the crown. It was bobbing with every rapid beat of my heart.

I didn't dare look yet at Katarina, almost embarrassed by my painfully full erection, so I looked at Petra instead. Her eyes were wide and a smile played at her full lips. I wondered how many times she had won this game.

I felt hands on my thighs, pushing gently, suggesting that I sit once more. My weak legs were happy to oblige, and I settled on the narrow seat, feeling Petra's knee against my bare leg.

If I'd been courageous a few moments ago, I was almost terrified now, sitting naked from the waist down, one uniformed flight attendant kneeling in front of me, another at my side, an entire planeful of people, unaware, just a few feet away, on the other side of this galley. I was still trying to catch my breath when I felt a warm breath on my bloated cockhead.

Now I looked down, and I could no longer see Katarina's fine features. All I saw was the top of her head, and then I felt a wet heat, her tongue, licking from the base of my cock up the shaft to the crown, then over the top to the slit that had already wept a bead of precum.

She said something in German, softly, and Petra replied in kind. I looked to her, her knee still pressed up against my leg, and she was still smiling. Obviously, this little game was pleasing them both, though surely not half as much as it was pleasing me.

Katarina's left hand slipped up my thigh until it found my balls, hot and loose. She began to palm them, knead them, just as she took more of my cock in her mouth and pushed herself down a little further onto it. She pulled back until I could feel the ridge of my cockhead at her lips and the exquisite suction she was beginning to apply. I felt like I was burning up, and still I was shivering like it was a thousand degrees below zero.

My head slumped back, all useful muscles in my body having taken their leave, and focused on just the sensations she was generating. They were incredible, beyond description, and the idea that Petra was watching, opening and closing her thighs almost in rhythm with her friend's oral thrusting, only heightened every one of them. They were working in tandem, it seemed, and if I looked away from Katarina, then Petra's self-stimulation was equally erotic.

I felt Petra's hand on my bare thigh now, stroking, while Katarina stroked the base of my cock while she swallowed the rest of it, increasing her speed and her intensity. I grew very close very quickly, and she sensed it, taking a tighter hold of my balls as she did. From there she certainly felt the first tell-tale throb, the one that signalled my release. The beauty of this act, the danger of it, brought every nerve ending to the surface, and I felt the familiar, split-second hesitation just before the first spurt pushed up through my shaft and pulsed from it, pumping out into Katarina's eager mouth.

She swallowed in a single gulp, then did the same with the second. She milked third and fourth weaker spurts from me, her head still as I throbbed, and a long moment later, when I finally popped from her mouth, one thick globule dropped onto her jacket lapel, just below her gold wings.

Petra's nail were in my leg and she was talking very quickly to her eager friend, who continued to stroke me, the last drops oozing to my thigh. Katarina was wearing a satisfied smile, her lips parted as she, too, took shallow breaths.

She leaned in to me and kissed my cheek, murmuring into my ear words I did not understand. Petra did the same, and as my entire body continued to tremble, I knew I had to get myself together. I struggled to my feet as Katarina pulled my briefs and trousers back up, buckling me up before I slumped against the galley sink.

"Did you enjoy our little game?" Katarina said lightly, patting my behind. Gabriele had returned, and she poured me a glass of wine.

"Here," Gabriele said, "let me take you back to your seat. I think you'll be ready to get some sleep now. Or watch another terrible movie."

I mumbled my wholly inadequate thanks to the three women, and had a pat on the hand from each of them as I stepped from the plane in Frankfurt. I wondered whether I'd see them on my return flight a week later, but it wasn't to be. Someone else might have been in my galley seat, he too taking part in their sexy game. Who knew who had drawn which straw?

That's not to say I didn't enjoy my flight home. I was in first class, bumped up for a reason that, at first, I didn't comprehend. But then the ticket clerk looked up at me and said, "Your file has been changed. The note on your reservation says, 'This upgrade is courtesy of Katarina Becker.' "

She looked me square in the eye and smiled, then leaned in closer, across the counter.

"Ah, you know Ms. Becker? So you played the game?"