Lift and Thrust
The first time I heard those words used together I immediately thought they had something to do with sex. I thought it meant something I shouldn't know about, but wanted to. My imagination ran rampant and I enjoyed the varied images the words created.
Later when I heard them defined as being needed in order to fly, it didn't alter my erotic mental ramblings. In fact, I actually visualized fucking in an airplane in flight before I ever heard the expression "mile high club" and added it to my list of things I wanted to do.
The expression "Bucket List" was something I had heard and started compiling in my mind, but never actually put in writing; I just kept adding things to it and taking things off of it.
I had a separate mental list of girls I wanted to fuck and help me experience my "bucket List" sexual fantasies and each girl had a specific place and way I was going to fuck her. Of course, as I went through high school and College, the list changed with girls being added and taken off as my interests, ideas, and tastes changed.
My mental list once had 24 girls on it. That was the most I was able to remember. I only, really, fucked three of them; not just the ones on the list of 24, but of all the girls on the whole list over the years and which must have had a couple of hundred in total that came and went. Only three. I had fucked other girls, but they weren't on the fantasy mental list.
I was 25 when I joined the mile high club.
I was on a redeye flight from Los Angeles to New York and stuck in the middle seat. The woman in the aisle seat struck up a conversation and we had talked for the first hour of the flight when dinner was served. The guy in the window seat was asleep before we backed away from the terminal and the flight attendant tried to wake him to see if he was hungry, but she couldn't. The aisle seatmate ate a salad and drank a vodka and tonic for her dinner. I had the chicken Salad sandwich and a beer.
The window seat had moved his head on to my shoulder several times and each time when I reached over and physically moved it away from me, I shoved a bit harder, but he never roused. After the last time, I found myself leaning closer to the aisle seatmate than I normally ever would and her she started chuckling. She had that vodka and apparently was feeling no pain as she leaned her head closer to mine. "I think he likes you."
"Well, the feeling isn't mutual," I chuckled in response.
"In that case, if you need to get closer to me, go ahead."
"I think I'm okay now."
"That's too bad."
Dinner was over and we were asked if we wanted anything else from the bar. Aisle seat asked for another vodka and tonic. I got another beer and paid for it and the vodka. I felt I owed it to her.
After service ended, the cabin lights dimmed.
Once again, window seat's head landed on my shoulder, and again, none too gently I shoved it. That time it actually hit the wall of the plane, but he still didn't awaken.
"Whatever sleeping pill he took, I want some," said aisle seat.
"It's probably illegal," I said.
"So is what I'm thinking."
"What would that be?" I asked.
"Are you married?"
"No. Why?"
"Just curious." She took another sip of her drink then leaned her head close to mine. "In a few minutes. Most of the other passengers will either be asleep, wish they were asleep, or reading."
