PS: This is my first submission to Literotica. Thanks to several members who reviewed the story before I posted. Please provide me with your feedback so that I can improve my future writing. Thank you for all your feedback!
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If you are like me, a frequent flier, flying becomes mundane to a point you ignore people who travel with you. You almost block them out of your vision during the flight, and engage yourself in some reading or listening to music. This is not the case if you are flying longer, like say a trans-Atlantic flight, where boredom sets in even when you have the best of the reading material. Besides, one can only sleep so much. This is when you long for good company in the seat next to you.
This was the case in my recent flight from Frankfurt to Chicago. I was coming back from a business meeting, and I was determined not to fall asleep -- my tactic to combat jet lag, which works like a charm. I had my briefcase full of reading material, including some European magazines that are more liberal when it comes to beauty -- if you get my drift.
Anyways, I was one of the last passengers to board. Traveling light, I hardly need to rush to board to find space for my carry-on, which I generally tuck under the seat in front. This time, I was not carrying my laptop either, so I could easily find some space for what was now a bunch of magazines. I was seated in the 3-seater row, and had a window seat. I find this convenient -- I don't have to get up for fellow passengers for their restroom breaks and can rest easy.
When I got to my seat, the remaining two seats in the row were already occupied by an Indian couple. The guy was listening to his iPod and the lady was busy reading some Indian movie magazine. I thought it was an odd couple -- the guy was hardly anything to look at, with a disheveled look and seemed older, in his late 30s. The lady, on the other hand, was a pretty sight -- probably in her 20s with a tan complexion that matched her sharp eyes. If she wasn't with her husband, I would definitely prepare to ask her out. She was wearing jeans and a tight shirt, enough to accentuate what seemed to be a 36c bust. Her shirt was unbuttoned at the top, and one could see a slight trace of a nice cleavage if they were standing up -- and I was. For a minute I was both happy and frustrated -- finally I come across nice company, but a married one. Indian women are usually conservative, and married women are all the more so. Besides, Indian men are very possessive and would not let other men even chat with their women, let alone flirt.
I stood in the aisle and indicated to the couple that I was to sit in the window seat. The lady smiled and started to get up. I caught more of her cleavage as she stood. The guy was slower -- he seemed to curse me for disturbing his peace. "What a jerk!" I thought to myself when the guy got up with music playing loud enough to be heard outside his headphones. I moved into my seat, and the couple sat down as well. I thought it was odd for an Indian man to let another man sit next to his wife. But the guy seemed too immersed in his music, and seemed to hardly care for his wife. As I moved into the row, I looked at the lady again -- she was too pretty to pass up talking to, and her ample bust seemed all the more inviting.
The flight was about 8 hours long, and the first few hours were very boring. The couple slept; I had my reading light on and was browsing the magazines I had brought along. Occasionally, I would open up one of those European soft-core magazines to catch a quick glimpse of some nude beauties and their almost-perfect boy toys. I had to position the magazines in such a way that I would still be discreet. It had been a month since I was with a woman, and the rage of hormones was hard to control. Several times, I would turn to catch a glimpse of the sleeping beauty next to me, and appreciate her fabulous body.
As time passed, I mustered enough courage to stare directly into her blouse -- the fear of getting caught was now gone. Add to this, the lady's head was turned away from me as she slept, and that meant I would have enough advance warning if she woke up. I also got to think that the husband was a strange kind -- most eastern men wouldn't let another man sit next to his wife, let alone someone dressed as sexily as this one. Over the one hour period, I had finished reading a fantasy story in the magazine about a housewife getting nailed by a delivery man -- complete with soft-core pictures. If I were in a more private situation, I would be jacking off already. But for now, I had to resist until I got home to really enjoy the mood.
I picked up another magazine -- this one seemed more hard-core, but the cover with a politician's interview headline was misleading. I had to be all the more careful to make sure the couple did not catch me -- else they would think of me as a pervert. I was fixated on a picture of a nude lady when I heard a slight cough, and I closed the magazine to see who it was. The lady next to me smiled at me -- still half asleep -- and I instinctively said a polite "Hello" and she responded back. Now that I had put my magazine away, I felt obligated to engage in some small talk. She was from Chicago as well, and that gave way to more talk. She introduced herself as Roopa -- a common name for someone from India.
The biggest surprise was that the guy next to her wasn't her husband at all -- he was just some other passenger. She told me that her husband worked as a consultant and would travel often. He was currently away from Chicago on a 3-month engagement, and since she could not accompany him on his trip, she decided that she might as well visit her family in India. The irony was, her husband's work got extended another 2 months, but she was going to endure the time without him. I felt pity that a beautiful lady would even be left alone. Now that she had told me something personal, she got pretty friendly with me. She asked me if I were married. I replied no, to which she replied "No wonder you need a magazine to cheer you up!" I didn't know how to respond; I didn't know what this lady knew -- if she had caught me peeking down her shirt? Did she catch glimpses of the magazine content? I just smiled.
"My husband kept a few of these around when we got married. I had to throw them in the garbage" she said "But hey, you are single, you are allowed to keep them" she smiled. Her friendliness was contagious -- I opened up a little, and mentioned that I only bought these magazines to read the interviews.
"So, are the interviews with those naked ladies?" Roopa quizzed me. I had no other go but to be modest about it.
"You got me there" I said "Being single has its ups and downs."
"Looks like you have more up" she smiled as she darted her eyes towards my crotch for a quick second and looked me back in the eye. I knew right then that this lady was a great flirt. "Besides, looks like you weren't happy with your magazines..."
"Huh?" I responded.
"That you had to peek down a lady's shirt" she smiled at me again.
"This lady was a fox" I thought. She was flirting without being too explicit -- this let her keep her image of innocence.
Now that I had been caught, not once but twice, I was contemplating my next move. Before I could even think of apologizing, Roopa put her right hand on my thigh and gave it a light pat.
"It is ok to watch" she whispered "I don't get this much attention from my husband"
"She is one desperate housewife" I thought to myself.
"You can watch more if you'd like" she told me, as she looked me in the eye. There was that look of seduction and innocence. She slowly opened two more buttons on her shirt and opened the shirt a little bit more to give me a clear view of her cleavage and the top part of her black lacy bra. I instinctively put my hand on her thigh and her right hand now moved slowly over my crotch and started fondling my hardness through my pants. I caressed her thigh as I was now openly looking into her open shirt. I was turned on as I saw her bosom heaving as she breathed, and I could sense the breathing was a bit heavy now.
It appeared that all other passengers were asleep and it was only us two on the flight awake and horny as hell. That silence was broken as the guy next to Roopa stretched as an indication of waking up. We broke our action, and Roopa quickly buttoned her shirt back. I could not help but imagine her breasts trying to come free if I were to quickly tear her shirt apart.
Then, suddenly, it hit me. I asked Roopa to get up and follow me. Our fellow passenger got up too, reluctantly again, as we both rose from our seats. I walked towards the toilets and descended the stairs to where they were. This was a new model of Airbus which has toilets a level below the seating. This not only reduces congestion, but it also provides better privacy should a couple decide to share one between them. Roopa followed me down to the restroom level. All of them were unoccupied; I opened one quickly, got in and signaled Roopa to follow. She must have sensed what would happen if she entered, but she got in anyways, with a smile. We were feeling like two teenagers in love.
There was enough space for both of us to stand. As soon as Roopa got in, I locked the restroom. Almost naturally, I kissed her on her lips as I held her at her slender waist. Within seconds, our tongues were playing with each other -- we were clearly both in need of gratification.
"You wanted to see more" she said, and without waiting for my response, unbuttoned her shirt all the way and opened it to expose her perfect jugs in a black lacy bra. They were eager to get out, as I could see the bra could hardly contain them. I cupped her breasts and gave them a squeeze and Roopa let out a light sigh. I continued to squeeze them, as if I had never seen boobs before.
"Yes, please squeeze them more" she said "Take them out!"
