In Plane View
Red Eyes. It wasn't my first time flying late night out of LAX to Philly, but I still hated it. And I hated the fact that my company still wouldn't spring for a First Class upgrade.
At least it was a non-stop; I always dreaded connecting flights.
I spotted the blonde when we boarded. She was hard to miss; short, slender, clad in a form - fitting black dress that, while not revealing much skin, clung to her curves in a way that left little to the imagination.
I consider myself a gentleman, so I tried not to gawk at her ass as I followed her down the aisle towards the rear of the plane. That said, I was quite pleased to discover she was seated in the row across from me at the back. I enjoyed the idea of possibly striking up a conversation with her during our long flight.
Then I spotted her wedding ring as she struggled to fit her luggage into the overhead compartment. Which probably nixed the potential of anything more than polite chit-chat. If that.
Still, my mother always taught me to be helpful.
"Need a hand?"
Turning, her blue eyes regarded me thankfully. "Yes, please. I can never reach these damn things!"
Our bodies brushed together as I helped store her suitcase, and I caught just a hint of her scent; a delicate mix of fruit and femininity.
I tried not to make too much of it, but my pulse did quicken, just a touch.
"Would you mind, while you're up there, grabbing me a blanket and a pillow? Thanks so much, really appreciate it!"
The smile she offered as I handed her the items was warm, friendly, yet guarded. I'd seen it before, of course. It was the smile all women use when dealing with a strange man, especially while traveling alone.
"My pleasure." Returning her smile, I stowed my own carry-on, then settled into my seat.
The flight was less than half full, and both of us were fortunate enough to have the rest of our rows to ourselves. While my ticket was for the aisle, I instead took the window seat.
After fishing out my neck pillow, I stored my backpack under my seat. I left my laptop for the time being; maybe later I'd either review some work files or watch a movie, but what I was really hoping to do at the moment was rest.
Glancing to my left, I watched as the blonde wrapped herself in the blanket, settled back on the pillow and tried to get comfortable.
She then pulled out a copy of People Magazine a previous passenger had left behind in the seat pocket and absorbed herself in it.
Putting on my neck pillow, I closed my eyes. Sleep was always hit or miss on these late night flights. I'd brought headphones, and later would listen to some ambient relaxation music when the use of electronic devices was approved after takeoff, if needed.
I didn't need it. I was out before the wheels left the ground.
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I woke to the sound of the service cart making its way down the aisle. I ordered a whiskey on ice; the blonde, a rum and Coke.
She raised her plastic cup to me in a silent "cheers." I returned the gesture. I considered trying to talk to her, to pass the time if nothing else, but her ear pods were in, and she had already turned her attention to her phone.
So instead, I put on my own headphones and found some music to listen to.
Thirty minutes later, the cabin had settled into a calm quiet, as the rest of the passengers either slept, or became absorbed in whatever entertaining distraction they'd brought along.
I'd just begun to doze off again when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
The blonde was holding up her phone, smiling and making playful faces as she moved it around.
I thought maybe she was Face-timing with someone at first, but she wasn't talking, just grinning at her screen as she glanced around nervously.
I pretended to be asleep, one eye open just enough to see what she was up to.
After another quick glance, she moved her phone beneath the blanket that still covered her from the waist down.
As she parted her legs and shifted herself lower in her seat, it dawned on me what she was doing.
She was recording herself. More specifically, under her dress.
She brought the phone back up, checked something on the screen, and frowned. Looking around again, she pushed the blanket off to the side, revealing her lovely, well toned legs.
The hem of her dress had already ridden up just below her ass. With a little tug, she hiked it up still higher.
From my vantage point, all I could truly see was the side, where her thigh met her buttocks. But as she parted her legs again and slowly moved the phone between them, I knew what the camera must be picking up.
I couldn't help but wonder who she was doing this for. A little flirtatious fun for hubby back home, getting him excited about her arrival?
Or perhaps she'd just left behind a lover in LA, and was giving him a little something to remember her by.
I watched, my heart racing, as her free hand went to her thigh, then slowly caressed its way upwards.
Her movements were subtle, yet it was clear by both her body language and facial expressions that she was touching herself. It was the most erotic thing I'd seen in quite some time, and I desperately wished I had a better view.
I'd never seen a woman look so petrified yet excited as she raised her hand to her lips and sucked at her glistening fingers for a moment before returning her attention to her obviously aroused sex.
Her movements became more erratic, her body squirming in the seat as she unsuccessfully tried to conceal her pleasure.
My own arousal was becoming apparent as well, throbbing urgently beneath my jeans. Without thinking, I reached down to squeeze it.
The blonde practically jumped out of her seat. With a startled yet stifled cry, she grabbed the blanket, throwing it over her lap as she bolted upright.
Her eyes found mine; wide, frightened and embarrassed.
I'd been caught looking.
Part of me felt guilty. Obviously, she shouldn't be doing something like that in public if she didn't want to get caught. But I still felt I'd invaded her privacy.
Deciding to come clean, I sat up and opened my eyes fully. She looked terrified. Probably afraid I'd turn her in, get her in trouble. Or worse, make some creepy pass at her.
Instead, I simply smiled, winked, and drew my fingers across my lips, symbolically zipping them.
The tension drained from her face as her body relaxed. She returned my smile with an adorable wink of her own.
Then, to my surprise, she shifted in her seat, moved the blanket, parted her legs, and offered me a much more direct view up her dress.
Her pussy was pristine; a creamy smooth vulva topped with a finely cropped tuft of blonde hairs that were only slightly darker than the long, luscious locks on her head.
Delicate pink labia spread to either side, just under the prominent bump of her clitoral hood. She glistened with a sheen of feminine arousal.
Then it was gone. Her legs closed, the blanket once again covering her.
Our eyes met again. She gave me a curious, questioning look.
"Like what you saw?"
