Ethels Exit Row Ch 01

I had run a bit late in getting to Reagan Airport, but fortunately, the outside luggage check-in had no line, so I quickly checked my bag and headed toward security. The line for security wasn't too bad either, nothing like the winding snakes I often would hit in Terminal B, so by the time I made it to my gate, I still had an hour before flight time. I grabbed a book and started reading, comfortable with the fact I had an exit row seat, so I'd avoid the cramped seats for the two and a half hour flight to Memphis.

I read for about forty-five minutes and then heard the call for courtesy boarding for First Class passengers. Putting my book away, I headed toward the counter, waiting for the courtesy boarding to continue with the frequent flyers. I quickly found myself huddled in a group of obvious businessmen and businesswomen, but oddly, I spotted an older couple in our midst. They were a bit slow moving, so I figured they were those who needed a little more time down the jetway.

In just a few moments the airline continued the courtesy boarding and I walked down the jetway and stepped onto the plane, finding my exit row window seat and quickly slipped in. Since the exit rows and the seats toward the front are held for frequent flyers, I expected several business people to slide in the spacious seats next to mine, but instead, the old woman sat next to me and her even older husband sat at the aisle seat.

It took some time for the rest of the plane to board, so I grabbed my book and started reading again. I got so engrossed that before I knew it, I felt the plane lurch backwards and then move out to the taxiway for the short trip to the runway. After a short wait, we took off and I returned to my book. The plan quickly reached altitude and the fight attendants served the beverages as many on the plane became engrossed in reading, or fell asleep. I could even hear some snoring when the old lady next to me leaned over and said, "I'm sorry about his snoring. I sit next to him on the plane for company and he goes to sleep on me, how do you like that?"

I smiled a bit, wanting to get back to my book, but as she continued looking at me I felt like I had to say something. Finally I said, "Yeah, I don't know what it is, but flying can be very tiring."

"But you're not sleeping," she said and then reaching her hand to me she continued, "I'm Ethel by the way."

"Hi Ethel, I'm Marc," I replied.

"You know Marc, I fly a lot and one thing that always happens to me is, well... I get horny."

"What the hell?" I thought to myself, wondering where this was going.

"You blush, but to tell the truth, I do, and this old guy dozes off and leaves me hanging here. I used to be a flight attendant, back in my youth. They used to call us stewardesses and you had to look pretty damn good to qualify. And oh I did look good, had all the pilots chasing me, acting like they weren't married. I did have fun flying, which may be why I get so horny, I mean I was in the mile high club in prop planes."

This was getting interesting, so I slipped my book in the pouch on the seat in front of me and listened to her tell her stories. They quickly became increasingly more sexy and graphic and as she continued I realized I had an erection from just listening to her stories. While she talked I did get a good look at her and could see for sure that in her younger days she must have been gorgeous. Her hair was now silvery gray, but I pictured it a dark brown, with her brown eyes and still nearly flawless skin. Yeah there were a few wrinkles but very few for a woman old enough to be a stewardess on a propeller plane.

Well, during one of her stories, she reached over to me, I guess to touch my arm or something, but instead her hand ended up in my lap. I didn't move and then was surprised when instead of removing her hand, the gently squeezed my hard cock and whispered, "I wonder if I still got it."

"Got what?"

"Back in the day, the pilots would often take a break and I would go up front while the pilot or first officer stretched their legs in the back of the plane. Whenever they did that, whoever was left to fly the plane quickly switched to autopilot and I'd give them a blow job. Of course it was always a race to finish him off and be back fully dressed with the plane off autopilot by the time the other returned."

"And so?" I asked.

"Why don't we give it a try," she said, raising the arm rest between us.

Not sure how to respond, I opened my mouth and then shut it, opened it again and then shut it again. By the time I finished that, she had unfastened my pants, pulled my cock out and had it firmly in her mouth. Immediately I was amazed at the amount of suction she was applying to my cock. Women one third her age couldn't have sucked on me harder, at least they hadn't in my experience.

Soon, I was moving my hips up and down, pushing my cock up as she bobbed her head up and down on me, her hand moving to my shaft to stroke it up and down. She was incredible and in a minute or so, the movement of her tongue over the head of my cock, combined with the suction and the stroking of her hands had me wincing as the pleasure of it all. Finally, I lifted myself off the seat, trying to push my cock deeper into her mouth and then I came, shooting my hot jism into her mouth.

She swallowed quickly, not letting a drop spill out. Finally, as my cock softened some, she pulled her head up, smiled at me and said, "And you know, I never spilled a single drop back then either." That's what she said and I believe every word of it.