I had my carry-on under my arm, completely stuffed with the shirts and boxers I had brought for the weekend. I can't
stand
checking baggage—I'm always paranoid it'll get lost. As a result, I try to live out of small bags whenever I fly. I'm also addicted to my computer, which was just one more thing I had to stuff in the bag. And then there was the pair of heavy dress shoes I had somehow managed to squeeze in.
What it all meant was this bag was REALLY heavy. As I waited in line to board, my discomfort was obvious. I kept switching the back between arms, shifting my weight on my sneakers, and even leaning against the columns when my place in line brought me by one.
I felt like sort of a wimp, to tell the truth. I've been out of puberty awhile and have a decent build for a man, but it's all looks. I never had the time or concern to build muscle mass, and sometimes the most basic tests of endurance would wear me out. So when I finally got to sit down on the plane, I let out an audible groan of relief.
"Tired, huh?" said a light voice to my left. I looked over at the window seat, suddenly noticing who was there.
"Yeah,
long
weekend," I said defensively. True, it had been a long weekend, but the bag would have worn me out anyway. I smiled at her and took the opportunity to check her out a little.
"You look a little bit like a partier," she teased with a red-lipped smile. She was older, perhaps in her late forties. But from what I could tell, she still had an amazing figure. Her skin looked pretty firm as well, but she had quite a lot of makeup on, so I couldn't tell for sure.
"Hah yeah I guess. I was visiting family, actually. Just didn't sleep enough."
"Ah, well you won't get much sleep on the plain. These seats are awful." She brought up that teasing smile again. It was kind of odd; sure she had on a lot of makeup, probably too much. But she obviously knew how to apply it, and combining it with large brunette curls, it gave her a sort of over-glammed charm. And it helped that she was actually pretty—the makeup wasn't just to hide her face, just exaggerate it.
"I guess you try to sleep on them a lot?" I ask with a smile, finally noticing the little wing-pin on her tight black blouse. I just figured she liked to wear button shirts and short skirts, but this appeared to be some kind of uniform upon closer inspection.
"Yeah, on the flights back home, like today. Thankfully I'm off. But today I'm not tired." Her blue eyes started to move over me. She'd probably noticed my inspection of her, and decided to return the favor. I was used to this sort of thing; I can appreciate the beauty of older women and they typically think I'm cute as well. But they always find me harmlessly young and just chat and flirt casually until we walk our separate ways.
"Hah, well I'll try to stay up so you won't be bored," I said while flashing my own smile. It's one of my better traits, I think. She didn't notice, she was looking at my legs.
"I love those jeans!" she said, causing me to blush a little.
"Thanks. I got them pretty cheap at a thrift store. Can you believe somebody would just give away designer clothes like this?"
"Oh I know. But it's great when they do. I'm surprised, most guys your age wouldn't go shopping enough to ever find jeans like that."
"And how old do you think I am?" I challenged flirtatiously. She raised an eyebrow and smiled again, this time just barely curling her full lips.
"Twenty five?" Her eyes darted up and down my body again as she said this. Something gave me the feeling she was trying to check my cock out with how her eyes lingered around my waist.
"Twenty two" I replied, blushing a little again.
