Flight Attendance Part 1 - Take Off
I stepped into the foyer of our apartment, relieved to be able to put down my bags and kick off my shoes. The best part of a business trip is coming home. Knowing you are waiting for me.
Twenty-four hours ago as I boarded the plane I had held an image of you, fired by that last crazy night of phone sex β me in the enveloping warmth of a London hotel room, glad of the retreat from the bitter, wintry street; you stretched languidly on the window-banquette in our Sydney apartment. I imagined the gentle caress upon your naked body of a late summer zephyr, breezing through the open window as we exchanged endearments, then the kind of raunchy talk that gets me off so easily! I am such a sucker for an earful of smut!
It was an almost empty flight, and apart from a pair of men in Row 1, I was the only passenger up front. I was in the 3rd first class row, right in the middle, occupying one of the brand new βcapsuleβ style fully reclining bed/seats. As I stretched out, the airline blanket draped loosely over me, I felt hot with anticipation of you. My fingers stroked my wetness, explored my fleshy folds, and rolled my hard nub of zinging nerves, til I finally rested, and dozed.