Not Quite the Mile-High Club

This is the real experience of a friend of mine who visited the US in the eighties. He told me the story when we flew down to Cape Town on a business trip about 15 years ago. I found it extremely erotic at the time and still do.

* * * * *

It had been a spectacularly successful trip to the States. The Americans he had negotiated with had displayed the warmth and generosity the nation was renowned for. Not that they been pushovers. Behind the geniality was the hard-nosed business acumen necessary to get to the top in this most competitive of democracies - and stay there.

His ideas for selling their products in "darkest Africa" were imaginative and sound. He was an entrepreneur with a great track record and they were keen to gain a new foothold and expand the market for their products – they needed each other, a business match made in heaven.

But now, he reflected, he was weary and it was time to go home. He took his seat in the "steerage" section of the South African Airways jet for the 14-hour flight to Johannesburg and any hopes for a quiet journey receded as a woman with two small noisy children in tow stowed away her hand luggage and sat down next to him, greeting him with a nervous smile. He smiled back and buried his nose in the airport pot-boiler he had picked up to while away the hours. The woman had her hands full with the two youngsters and she seemed exhausted. Finally, after about an hour, they settled down with colouring books and she sat back with a sigh, turned her attention to him and started to make small talk. The book wasn't that riveting so he lowered it and looked at her more closely.

Her name, she said, was Blythe, and she was going home to Johannesburg with her children after visiting her sister who had married an American and settled in New York. "Ill be glad to get home. We had a wonderful time but I'm missing my husband… and my home. Living out of suitcases palls after a while."

He introduced himself and told her what he had being doing in the States. "I'll also be glad to get home too but there is no loving wife waiting for me," he laughed. "Don't laugh too loud," she said with a smile. "Some woman will get you in the end and one day you will wake up to a couple of monsters like mine," she said, gazing fondly at her mercifully quiet offspring.

He figured Blythe was about 33, a couple of years older than himself. Quite pretty, he thought, showing lovely white teeth when she smiled. Good breasts, too, looks after herself. They chatted about this and that. She had been married for six years to a wonderful man, good-looking and a good provider. "But is he a good lover?" he asked, tossing a hand-grenade into the conversation.

"The best," she giggled, "I've been missing that, although I shouldn't be talking to you about my sex life." She was silent for a while, then: "Why is it that complete strangers tell each other the intimate details of their lives?"

He said he thought it was because that within a few hours or so they would never see each other again so it didn't matter what they said. There would be no repercussions. "I suppose so," she said. "Sometimes its therapeutic to speak without having to guard what you say."

"So let's tell each other our life story, all the gory details, nothing held back, what do you think?" he asked. "Okay", she replied, "but let's wait until the children have been fed and are asleep. We still have about 12 hours to go and even though they dim the lights I have trouble sleeping during a flight." He agreed and ordered his second little bottle of brandy and some soda and another glass or red wine for her. It could be an interesting night he thought, a night with a pretty stranger with the lights low after a good meal and a few drinks.

After the trolley dollies had fed everyone and coffee had been served and cleared, the cabin lights were dimmed and the planeload of intrepid travellers settled down to spend the night as comfortably as possible. The people in the row behind had been upgraded to Business Class so Blythe stretched out the children there, snugly wrapped, and they were soon asleep.

He and Blythe settled down under soft blankets drawn up to their necks to combat the slight chill. Armed with fresh drinks distributed before the air hostesses retired for some rest, they prepared to while away the hours. With a nervous laugh she said she hadn't come close to an attractive man in nearly two months.

So she found him attractive, that was a good start! "It's never happened to me before that I've sat next to a good-looking lady on a plane. The pretty ones always seem to be on other flights. Until today I've always been lumbered with garrulous grannies insisting on showing me pictures of their ugly grandkids or smelly old men who flatten too much booze and fall asleep snoring and drooling on my shoulder."

She chuckled, squeezing his hand and holding on to it, the drinks obviously having the desired effect. They were now at ease with each other and as they exchanged school and university stories and regaled each other with tales of past conquests, he stroked her arm, hand and fingers. He turned to look into her eyes and as he moved forward to kiss her she sighed and pulled him close. Their tongues touched and they gently explored each other's mouth. "Lovely. Don't stop kissing me," she said as he came up for air and a sip of his drink.

He started to kiss her again, her warm, soft mouth drawing his lips closer. His heart was pounding and his erection strained at his underpants. Gently his hand cupped her breast over her thin blouse and her breath quickened. Her breast felt wonderfully soft to his touch and he kneaded it softly feeling the nipple harden. After looking around to see if anyone was watching them, he slowly undid four of the blouse buttons so that he could slip his hand over her bra.

She responded by dropping a hand to his thigh, stroking his erection over his trousers. Their kissing intensified, tongues going wild as they rubbed each other. "This is wrong," she whispered, "but I don't seem to care." He thrilled to the feel of her satiny bra, brushing his fingers over the lacy trim before slipping his hand inside, holding the softness in his hand as he rubbed the erect nipple. "My bra opens at the front," she whispered. "Lucky me," he whispered back, as she helped him to unhook it, leaving her good-sized breasts free to nestle in his hand.

"That feels, wonderful. I can't believe I'm doing this. I have never even though about another man since I've been married. Now here I am, with my children asleep on the seat behind, letting a stranger feel my boobs while I stroke his penis. You must think badly of me!" On the contrary, he said, he though she was wonderful, with an innocence that he found powerfully sexual.

She snuggled against him as he dropped his hand to stroke her over her tummy, hearing her gasp with pleasure as he dropped his hand even lower to gently rub her mound over her flimsy skirt. Slowly he caressed her, pulling her skirt up and rubbing the tops of her thighs. With bolder strokes he rubbed her mound over her panties, which were damp to his touch. He inserted his finger under the panty elastic, feeling her soft bush and searching for her lips.

She moved in her seat to give him better access, opening her legs wide as he slipped his finger into her warm, wet orifice. "Make me come! God, I'm so randy, I feel like a bloody slut… your slut!" She was whispering in his ear but there was no mistaking the urgency of the command. He stepped up the tempo, his finger trapped in the vice-like grip of her thighs as she bucked against his hand. With difficulty he was able to move his finger up, seeking the little pleasure button. She moaned with pleasure, gripping his cock fiercely with one hand while she crammed the other into her mouth to muffle her moans of pleasure.

"Im coming! I'm coming!" she whispered urgently, and he could feel the spasms against his finger. She scrabbled for the zip of his pants, pulled it down and caressed him inside his sodden underpants before pulling his wet cock out, pulling back the foreskin and stroking the head that was dripping with love juice. The tempo of their masturbation increased to a frenetic speed and he whispered urgently that he was going to ejaculate. Not caring who saw, although nothing stirred in the cabin, Blythe shifted her body, dropping her head onto his lap under the blanket and took him into her mouth just in time as his cock started to jerk and spew hot thick cum. She kept sucking and swallowing until the torrent dried up, pulling back the foreskin to lick all the juices. Still under the blanket she replaced his cock in his trousers, zipped him and came up for air with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "That was wonderful. Did you enjoy it?" He could only nod weakly, drained.

They dozed for about two hours and when she awoke she muttered that she must go to the loo. He whispered that she should take her panties off so that he could lick her when she came back. She nodded silently and when she returned he also went to the loo to relieve himself and freshen up. When he got back they settled down under the blankets once more and he immediately put his hand under her skirt and slid his hand up. Yes, she had taken off her panties! He felt something being put into his hand, a little bundle that felt like silk. "Keep them as a something to remember me by," she giggled. He lubricated his finger in her honey pot and then worked her clit again until she started to move against his hand. He whispered to her to open her legs wide and then got down on his knees in front of her and started to lap her juices with his head under the blanket. It was like working in a black hole. Her pussy gave off a pungent aroma that excited him and he probed and licked her clit until she squirmed and writhed, pulling his face towards the dripping centre of her universe.

She whispered to him to unzip himself and change places. As he did so she fell to her knees, grasped his cock in both hands and quickly brought him to a climax, sucking him dry. After tucking his limp cock back in his pants she sat next to him and they slept until the children woke her just as the rest of the passengers were stirring.

Their intimate interlude was over, he knew. He sensed he had been dismissed from her mind and now she focused on the children and the loving husband waiting for his little family. That suited him just fine. Love them and leave them was his motto. Still, it was a bit of a blow to the ego to be dismissed quite so easily. As they left the plane Blythe gave him an impersonal "goodbye, nice to have met you" and once through customs she led her two children into the arms of their waiting daddy, never once looking back.

He had to pull the cum-stained, sodden,lace-trimmed silk panties from his pocket to convince himself that it had not been just a wonderful erotic dream!