I am a 40 year old typical soccer mom who leads a pretty conventional life. My stories are based on my fantasies. Most deal with the humiliation of older women by younger women, in the style of my favorite authors such as Cowgirl, Couture, Phoenix Arrow and Jane Parks. This is my second story I hope you enjoy it. I'd enjoy any constructive criticism. Contact me at the address in my profile.
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Irritated, I sit thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo, wondering why they haven't started boarding the damn plane yet. It's already 15 minutes late for takeoff. Being a stewardess and all, I should be used to this, it seems these days more often than not there is some type of delay.
But now, I've just finished a week long shift to the Far East, and I'm anxious to get home to my New York apartment. But now a mere two hour flight from home, I'm stuck in piece of shit airport in Cincinnati.
It's noon time, and except for the few passengers stranded with me, the terminal is nearly deserted, I just hope they don't cancel my flight, I can't stand being here for another minute. Looking around, the passengers waiting around for the flight, like me look mostly bored and irritated. You know, the typical business man type guy, the kind of guy who hits on me all the time at work.
Geeze am I bored with their feeble attempts to pick me up, always the same jokes. I'm professional, polite, but definitely not interested. They aren't my type. Not that I don't like a good hard dick now and then, but they aren't in my class.
Me, I'm 22 years old, an only child. My mother was Korean, and my father French. I was lucky; I got the best of both worlds in the looks department. I'm tall, 5.9" with long jet black straight hair, shapely legs, a nice ass and 36c breasts with not yet starting to sag. I exude a sex appeal that's irresistible to anyone, I don't deny it.
I'm a sexy bitch, yes I admit it. I use my looks to get what I want, what the fuck, if you have it, use it right?
Glancing up from my magazine, I spy a woman busily working on her laptop. She's probably about 40 years old, not bad looking. She's blonde, 5'6", wearing a gray business suit, cream colored blouse. She's a typical working Milf.
I'm sure she's happily living in the suburbs with 2.2 children. She on the other hand, IS my type. It would probably take me about 2 minutes to have her kneeling between my legs begging to lick me.
I just have this sixth sense; I can tell them when I see them. They look all prim and proper, but deep down inside, in a place they can't even admit to themselves, there is a depraved slut, just waiting to be released.
And believe you me, I'm just the one to release it, in fact that's my specialty. Why do I take women like that, and use and degrade them? Make them my bitch; make them forsake everything that's near and dear to them, just for a chance to worship me? I don't know.
You might say I'm just a cruel sadistic bitch, and you might be right. I however don't think that's it, I actually have a deep caring, dare I say love for my conquests. It's not sadism or cruelty, that drives me to humiliate and degrade these women.
It's just that...well it just turns me on to no end, when someone will do anything, and I do mean ANYTHING just to have a chance to worship my body. It's the ultimate feeling of power! MMMMM it's making me wet just thinking about it.
The more unlikely the target the more it turns me on. I guess that's why those prim and proper middle aged ladies are my favorite targets.
Oh well, the plane should board soon, so I won't have any time to capture this one. But I couldn't help testing it out a bit. Pretending to read my magazine, but really glancing at my prey through my sunglasses, I slowly uncrossed my legs and re-crossed them placing my right leg over my left.
This simple act instantaneously confirmed my suspicions about her. Although she still had her computer on her lap, I noticed her facial expression change just a brief flash as I crossed my legs. My radar detected a look, one of pure lust, for a brief instant that quickly evaporated. But that was enough for me. I could sense her internal struggle.
Women like this always fought their feelings at first; they were shocked that a professional woman like they considered themselves could feel such a strong sexual stirring for another woman. After they would tell themselves, they're not a lesbian, no far from it. That's why it's so much more fun when I finally break them.
Absentmindedly, I began rubbing my right shoe (sensible black flat's, you no the kind all of us stewardesses wear), up and down my thigh. I notice my prey's work was long forgotten as she studied my movements.
"Attention passengers, of flight 268 to Kennedy airport. The flight will be delayed due to mechanical difficulty. The new scheduled departure time is 3:30," came the announcement over the PA system. The few passengers waiting all seemed to groan in unison.
Shit, I thought to myself, I knew this would happen. Hmmm, on the other hand, this might give me some time to put my theory about this woman to the test.
I crossed and uncrossed my legs several times over the next few minutes, confirming I defiantly had an audience.
Hmmm, now to draw my prey a bit closer I thought. Standing up to stretch, I turned facing away from her and facing my seat, bending forward to retrieve something from my purse. I didn't even need to look, I could just feel her eyes boring in on my sweet ass.
As I stood back up, I casually flipped my stewardess cap from my head, as if it "accidentally" fell off. It landed about 2 feet away from me.
I pretended not to notice it had fallen and went back to pretending I was interested in my magazine. This was in fact a test for her. Would she ignore my hat on the floor, tell me I dropped it, or was my little game about to begin?
If this was indeed a test, she looked like freshman college student taking and advanced calculus test. I could almost feel the struggle she was going through.
Finally, almost shyly she got off her seat, walked over and retrieved the hat. She then took a step closer to me. I pretended to be enthralled in the magazine and didn't acknowledge her presence in any way. She was less than 2 feet away from me, but I acted like she wasn't there as I continued to read.
She cleared her throat, which I ignored. Finally after what must've seemed like an hour to her, she said in a nervous voice "Excuse me." Once again I was testing her. I pretended to absentmindedly adjust my skirt, but what I was really doing was giving her a brief flash of the treasure contained inside. Her stifled gasp confirmed that my game was proceeding according to plan.
I smiled to my self. I could almost imagine her internal struggle. Why was she a successful confident business woman, standing there like a confused child?
I knew the answer to that question, even if she couldn't admit it to herself, she was so drawn in by my sexuality, that she'd bear anything just to be close to it.
Finally I turned deliberately and looked at her over the tops of my sunglasses. I gave her my best bitch look. A look that said, what makes you think that you a fat middle aged woman (she really isn't that fat, but they always think they are), deserve to be breathing in the same air as me.
"Ummm...ummm...you dropped your hat," she stuttered holding it to me.
I almost burst out laughing but instead said in an annoyed tone, "Well what do you want some kind of metal? Just put it on the chair next to me, and go run and play like a good little girl."
