The Turbulence Club

Here's the understatement of the century: I do not enjoy flying.

I don't like anything about it.

I don't like having to get to the airport two hours early just to wait around. I don't like checking bags. I don't like going through security. (My belt ALWAYS sets off the alarm.) I hate sitting in the terminal with the huddled masses. The disorganized boarding procedure drives me crazy. I don't like getting on the plane and being greeted by a pilot who looks like he just got his learner's permit. And my seat is ALWAYS next to a large, fragrant person that either wants to be my best friend or snores the whole trip.

Needless to say, I am not in the best of moods when I board the plane.

I should also add that the weather is HORRIBLE. Howling winds, sideways rain, crashing lightning, rumbling thunder. You might think I'm exaggerating but it's like a trailer for the latest "Twister" movie outside. Even on the best of days I'm a "nervous flyer" and this is definitely NOT the best of days.

There is one positive development; it's a Red Eye flight so the plane is only about a third full and there is nobody on my row when I get to my Business Class seat.

I stow my carry-on in the overhead bin, take my seat and strap in. On the aisle, of course. I reach over and pull the shade down on the window just so I won't see an old pick-up truck go sailing by - although I can't stop thinking about how rough this flight is going to be.

I try to remain calm and distract myself with the In-Flight magazine but I can't focus on the high-end luggage and cologne ads. A very nice flight attendant comes by and asks me if I need anything. I get the distinct impression that she understands exactly how nervous I am. She gives me a smile and reassures me that everything will be fine.

But she's paid to say that.

As I'm sitting there sweating, awash in my misery, I feel a soft hand on my shoulder. I look up into the dark, green eyes of a stunningly pretty lady. She has long, dark, wavy hair cascading over the shoulders of her silky, off-white, button-up blouse. Her eyes are painted in smoky shades and her lips are full, red, and soaking wet. She is wearing a plum colored wrap-around skirt that comes to her knees over dark, silky hose and shiny, black pumps. Even though my mouth is open I may have forgotten to breathe.

"Mind if I ooch by you, hun?" She has a very cute southern accent.

"Of course!" In my haste to stand I dump the magazine on the floor and bump my head on the seat back in front of me while trying to retrieve it. Then I forget I'm buckled in which causes a bit of discomfort when I try again to stand.

Cue the circus music.

When I finally get loose of everything binding me I step into the aisle to give her room to get to her seat. Seeing that she has a small bag I offer to stow it for her, proving that I can be a semi-functioning human at times.

"Well, aren't you sweet." Her voice is like molasses and my biscuits melt like butter.

She settles into the window seat and I try not to make it too obvious that I am checking out her legs as her skirt pulls up slightly.

I've always been a sucker for a pretty girl with an accent and I pride myself on my ability to recognize them so I take a bit of a risk.

"Texas?"

She looks at me with her pretty eyes wide and says, "That's right, sweetie! Where y'all from?"

"California, " I answer.

"Nice to meet you, Cal." She holds her hand out to me.

"Nice to meet you, Texas." I take her cool, smooth hand in mine and we lock eyes for a heartbeat or two.

"It's such a beautiful night, isn't it?" She reaches up and raises the window shade. Hard rain beats on the glass and the sky flashes. I can feel the airplane rock and we haven't even pulled from the gate yet. I swear I see an old lady pedal her bicycle by the window with a scraggly dog in the basket.

"I guess..." I buckle my seat belt and pull it as tight as possible. I give the armrests a white-knuckled grip, close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"What's the matter, sugar? Are you afraid to fly?" I sense real concern, not just amusement at my plight.

"No," I answer. "I'm not afraid to fly. I'm afraid to crash to the earth in a ball of flame."

"I'm sorry, darlin'." She closes the shade again. "It'll be okay."

"I know it will be okay. They call it an irrational fear for a reason." I try to smile but it is forced.

"Well, bless your heart." She buckles her belt and the attendants prepare for departure. I try to remain calm as we taxi to the runway. Take-off is a horrifying experience. My eyes are screwed shut and I nearly break the armrests. I just know we are sliding down the wet runway completely sideways and will soon plow into the terminal. It doesn't get any better once we are airborne. The plane dips and skids. I try to concentrate on taking deep breaths but all I can think about is the impression I am going to make on the city below.

I feel Texas lay her soft hand on my arm. "Keep breathing, honey. It'll smooth out soon," she says softly, attempting to calm my fears. She may be stunningly attractive but she is a lousy weather forecaster. If anything, it gets worse as the airplane claws for altitude.

After a short lifetime of mind-numbing fear the captain comes on the intercom to apologize for the rough take-off. He assures us that the flight will settle down once we reach cruising altitude in a few minutes.

Turns out Texas knows as much as the pilot about the weather. It is NOT any better when we reached altitude. Sudden dips, sideways slips, maybe a barrel roll or two. I'm not the only one suffering. There are plenty of gasps and startled squeals from the other victims of this aviation torture chamber. At least the rain and lightning abate a bit.

The pilot comes on again to let us know that, for our safety and the safety of the crew, he is suspending cabin service and keeping the seat belt light on.

"Oh, great," I mutter.

"Do you need a drink, hun?" Texas has concern in her eyes.

"I don't drink, but I'm thinking it might be a good time to start." I try to give her a sad little smile.

The pilot turns the cabin lights all the way down.

"Oh, sweetie," she laughs. "You need to get your mind off it. I heard a joke today. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure." I close my eyes again and try to concentrate on her sweet, southern voice.

"Ok. A man comes home early from his job at the cannery."

"The cannery?" I interject.

"Yes. The cannery." She pats my arm softly. "Don't interrupt."

A man comes home early from his job at the canary.

His wife asks him, "Why are you home so early?"

He answers meekly, "I got caught with my penis in the pickle slicer."

She puts her hand to her mouth and exclaims, "Oh my gosh! What happened?"

"I got fired, of course," he answered with his head hanging low.

"No," she clarifies. "What happened with the pickle slicer?"

"Oh. She got fired too."

I can't help but laugh out loud. I realize that I completely forgot about my fears while she was telling her silly story. We laugh together and I start to calm down. I feel like I might actually survive this ordeal.

Until...

The airplane suddenly drops at least a thousand feet. My stomach lodges in my throat and I begin to gulp air like a drowning man. My vision zooms and blurs like a Hitchcock film and I just know that the end is near.

Texas starts to softly stoke my arm with her long fingernails and hums a sweet lullaby, soft and low. I lay my head back and try to concentrate on her fingers and voice, pushing my fear to the back of my roiling brain. She peels my strained fingers from the armrest and turns my arm over. I wipe my sweaty palm on my jeans and place it back quickly. She continues to use her fingernails to lightly tickle the skin on the inside of my forearm, from the crease of my elbow to my soggy palm. Even though it still feels like we are trapped inside a cement mixer her calming touch has a profound effect on my body, calming and relaxing all of my joints and most of my muscles. The muscle between my legs, however, is starting to awaken giving me one more thing to worry about.

She traces each of my fingers and follows the lines on my palm. I close my fingers softly and return the touch, holding her smooth fingers and stroking the soft skin of her hand. She picks up my hand gently and uses both of her hands to massage me softly, sliding tension from my body with every movement. She brings my hand to her face and softly caresses her warm cheek with the back of my fingers, singing an Irish love song under her breath.

I open my eyes and turn my head to watch. Her eyes are closed and her lips are curled in a sweet smile as she turns my hand to touch her skin with my fingertips. I am hypnotized by her beauty and the sensuality of her touch. The muscle in my pants grows to uncomfortable proportions.

She opens her sultry eyes and turns to look at me, watching me watching her. She opens her red lips slightly and brushes my fingertips on them while her smile widens, enjoying the effect it is having on me. She glances down at my lap as I adjust my pants with my other hand and raises an eyebrow seductively. Her tongue comes out a bit and I feel smooth wetness as she starts to gently lick and kiss my fingertips.

She turns it around and plants a hard kiss on the back of my hand, leaving a perfect lip-print tattoo. Then she goes back to the palm, licking and nibbling from my wrist to my fingertips. I can feel the sticky syrup leaking from my throbbing cock. I don't know when I've ever been more turned on.

While she continues to pleasure my hand she starts to slowly, seductively, loosen a couple of buttons on her blouse, never breaking eye contact. She guides my hand into her blouse and places my palm around her bare breast. Her breast is not large but it is warm and firm with a hard nipple like a pencil eraser. It feels incredible.

"Hello, Texas," I whisper, leaning closer to her.

She hits me with a devastating smile and uses her fingers to encourage mine to message her sweet titty. She closes her eyes and leans her head back, groaning in pleasure. She turns her body in the seat to give me free access to her chest and I explore as much of her as I can. She crosses her legs and presses our knees together causing her skirt to ride up, revealing where her dark stockings end and her milky white thighs begin. I can't take my eyes off this exquisite creature writhing in the seat next to me.

She opens her eyes and notices me ogling her legs. She watches as I adjust my crotch again and then takes my hand and places it on her silky leg. I turn in the seat completely and start to massage her thigh with one hand while continuing to feel her soft breasts with the other. She reaches down and pulls her skirt open a little more, encouraging me to travel north on her pleasure highway. Her hose are silky and smooth but I am in heaven when I reach her naked skin. She slides down slightly in her seat and gives me a nod, telling me that I am free to explore all the way up.

I take my time and enjoy the journey. After spending plenty of time on the sensitive regions all around I finally reach the promised land and am very pleasantly surprised to find her pussy is bare naked, shaved smooth and soaking wet. She gasps as I run my fingers over her silky slit and fiddle with the little nub at the top. I gently part her wet lips and begin to probe her luscious depths. I can hear the slurping sounds of my fingers pressing in and pulling out of her grasping pussy. I press one finger in, and then add another as her moans increase and her hips push into my hand. After just a few minutes of exploration I am able to find her spot and I stroke it softy but insistently with both fingers, driving her to a high level of erotic pleasure.

Her release is strong and sudden but she bites her lip to keep from crying out in intense pleasure. She raises her ass up off the seat and bucks hard into my hand as she comes, breathing heavily and growling low in her throat.

"Oh, Cal!" she whispers in my ear. "That was wonderful."

"You are the sexiest woman I've ever met."

"You're so sweet." She leans back in her seat and straightens her clothes after I remove my hands from her body. She closes her eyes and lays her head on my shoulder.

Suddenly, the plane starts to buffet violently. I break out in a cold sweat and grip the arm rests again, but Texas doesn't even stir. I can hear the fuselage groan, rattle and screech as it is pounded by the unrelenting forces of nature. I once again try to concentrate on my breathing but I feel the fear starting to rise like the tide.

Texas stirs at my side. She looks up at me and sees the stresses I am under. She sits up, collects her clutch bag, pats me on the shoulder and says, "Let me squeeze by you, darlin'. I'm headed to the lavatory."

She stands and turns to face the back of the plane, holding on to the back of her seat. I sit up as straight as I can and pull my feet under me as she scoots between the seat back and me. Her lovely breasts quiver, tantalizingly close to my face. Suddenly, a large jolt hits the aircraft and she loses her balance, plopping her chest into my face and her hands into my aching lap. She gives my hard cock a little squeeze, puts her hot lips to my ear and says, "Why don't you join me in a minute, sugar."

She pulls off me and I watch her glide smoothly down the aisle. She moves like a sailboat on a tumultuous sea. She opens the lavatory door, glances back towards me and enters, closing the door behind her.

I count sixty Mississippi, unbuckle my belt, get up and stagger down the aisle like a drunken sailor. About halfway there I have to stop and hold on to the back of a seat. A flash of lightning makes me glance out a window and I'm pretty sure I see a hairy man out on the wing pulling wires from a jet engine.

When I finally reach the lavatory I spy the flight attendant sitting in a jump seat in the galley reading from her phone. She doesn't even look up as I open the door and step inside.

I have probably been is tighter spaces before but I sure don't remember when.

As I step into the lavatory I also step into the arms of Texas. She is halfway seated on the tiny counter and has one foot up on the commode. I turn and latch the door and she pulls me close and presses her warm, soft lips to mine. Her slick tongue invades my mouth and we kiss, deep and passionate, for long minutes as the plane bounces us around in the confined space. My engorged cock is straining to get out of my soggy pants as I bump and rebound against her pubic area. I reach up and hold her fabulous breast, feeling it jiggle and shake in my hand through her silky blouse.

When we break for air she fixes me with a hard stare and says, "Are you ready to join the club?"

"The Mile High Club?" I ask with obvious eagerness.

"No," she answers. "The Turbulence Club. It's much more exclusive."

"Absolutely, I am."

"There's just one rule." She puts her hand on my chest to steady our bounding bodies. "You have to be still and let the turbulence do the work. Think you can do that, darlin'?"

"I am more than willing to give it a shot."

"Well, then, giddy up, cowboy." She drops her hands and whips off her skirt revealing her black garters as well as the fantastic pussy with which I shared so much quality time earlier. I unfasten my belt and quickly drop my pants and shorts, freeing the throbbing pipe that has needed release for so long.

"Hmmm...." she coos, taking my cock in her soft hand. She guides the slimy, mushroom tip to her warm, velvet box and places it right at the opening. Looking deep into my eyes she puts her hands around my waist and gently, slowly pulls me into her. The feeling is unbelievably sensual as I slowly push into her sexy cave.

Just then there is a loud crash of thunder and the plane tosses about. I lose my balance and fall back against the door, breaking contact with the sweetest part of Texas. Another jolt and I am back in her arms again. I guide myself back inside and the plane takes another sudden jump, suddenly forcing my cock hard and fast into her clutching pussy. She lets out a little gasp of pleasure and I hold the position until we are jostled again and I pull about halfway out. I push back in and our mouths find each other, sucking, licking, nibbling and probing as the plane bounces us around like dice in a cup.

She drops her foot down from the toilet and stands with me while we are connected by our sex. We bounce back and forth between the door and the counter while our hands crawl all over our excited bodies. The bumps, grinds and thumps we make are added to the noises of the wind and the creaking frame of the airplane.

The plane tilts and I press her hard against the counter. I place my palms flat on the mirror on either side of her and we continue to suck moisture and passion from each other's mouths. My ravenous cock is imbedded deeply in her wet cavern and I can feel the vibrations of the jet engines and the airframe as I hold my hips still, enjoying the erratic motion of the airplane.

Texas moans deep in her throat and thrusts her pelvis into me hard, holding my hips tight with both hands. I take that as encouragement and begin to drive my cock, back and forth, in and out of her succulent, clutching pussy. I feel the pressure rise in my loins and I know that I am close to blowing an epic load into this gorgeous woman.

Her eyes roll back and she utters softly, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh, honey. That's so good." My pace increases and the wet slapping sound of our bodies impacting is added to the cacophony all around us. I feel her pelvic muscles clamp down hard on my pistoning cock and she is wracked by an enormously explosive orgasm, her entire body quivers and shakes against me. That sends me right over the edge and I squirt quarts of hot plasma into her clutching womb while waves of exquisite euphoria wash over me.

We continue pounding our sweaty bodies against each other as our spasms dissipate. I hold her close for several long minutes as we share sweet kisses and the tight space we occupy.

After a time my satisfied penis softens and plops out. She grabs some tissues and holds them to her, keeping the mess to a minimum. I reach down and pull my pants up, which is a surprisingly difficult maneuver in this tight space. Texas puts her skirt back on and smooths out her blouse. She then turns and attends to her beautiful face and hair in the mirror. As I watch her apply her sexy, red lipstick she smiles at me and says, "I'll be out in a few minutes, hun."

I give her a quick hug, turn and open the lavatory door. As I exit the flight attendant looks up at me, uninterested, and quickly puts her face back down to her phone. I stumble and stagger back to my seat and plop down, my body weary.

After a few minutes I see Texas exit the lavatory and glide down the aisle like she's on ice. Her long fingers dance along the seat backs and her body sways gently with the rocking of the airplane. I marvel at her graceful poise and beauty.

When she arrives at our seats, looking fabulous again, I stand and let her in. She brushes her fingers across my chest and says, "Thanks, darlin'."

We both sit and buckle up. She lays her head on my shoulder and falls asleep in seconds. I look up and realize that the turbulence is still bad but it really isn't bothering me anymore. My heartbeat is slow and my head is calm. I've never been able to sleep on an airplane before but I really think it might happen now.

Just as I tilt my head into the soft curls of Texas the cabin lights come up and the captain announces that we are beginning our approach. He apologizes again for the rough flight and laments that we are arriving late due to the massive headwinds.

I laugh to myself and whisper, 'Whatever, man."