Bleary eyed, Brandon hopped through the mid entrance onto the shuttle. He started right, towards the front and saw all but the handicap seats were taken. "Don't be a dick," he told himself, and lurched toward the back of the bus. With an internal sigh of relief he sunk into the seat just next to the door, plopped his backpack down beside him and relaxed finally for a second. It was 7am and he'd been packing all morning for his flight to Mexico City for a week of gastronomic mouthgasms and exploration. The morning had been a haul though, especially after raging at a concert the night before.
Brandon took a moment, with his head tilting low, to compose himself and catch this moment of rest. His eyes closed and opened and again trying to clear his vision, and as he raised his head back up, he was caught, shook, and stopped in his tracks.
The woman across from him was bent over in her seat, fiddling with the small suitcase in front of her. Her golden veined hands pulled at the zippers to fix it into the right positions. Her dirty blonde bun, bobbed up and down and back and forth as she tugged. A white blouse clung loosely to her gentle frail frame, and there in the center of it all was an open picture to her time and sun freckle bronzed deep hanging breasts.
Brandon traced her cleavage over and over again, sinking into it in the center. They rolled softly through his mind, the way he imagined they may roll through his hands and over his cock. It appeared Brandon was finally waking up. That dark soft cleavage line rose and his gaze remained locked until he realized his eyes had betrayed him. His eyes touched with hers, behind glasses with dark frames, and marked with crows feet. Brandon jolted his attention to the front of the bus, but it was too late, she only needed that instant to realize what he had been indulging in.
The shuttle came to a halt. Brandon stood slowly and let the woman and a few people pass before he hopped off. He traced her as she strode off and melted into the sea of people in the terminal.
The time to his flight passed quickly enough. Brandon only had minutes between finding and scarfing down a fried chicken sandwich and final boarding calls. He rigidly closed up his backpack and approached the desk to present his ticket. The beep sent him through the gate only to be met by the long boarding line. *Hurry up and wait...* he sighed.
When Brandon finally got to the plane, he was greeted by a lovely bilingual petite stewardess with a "Bienvenida" and "Welcome". Slowly he made his way through the controlled chaos in the aisle and found his seat towards the back, again grateful to sink into a comfortable chair and get settled in for the three hour ride.
As he was buckling up a determined flight attendant bumped his elbow while passing to assist a passenger with their baggage. He looked up and immediately recognized the bun. *She's...here.* He studied her figure as she raised her hands pushing luggage into a compartment. The flow of her gentle white blouse tucked neatly into her skirt let him explore the shape and curve of her cheeks. He traced the slight tinge of red through her shirt with a subtle excitement peeking into the world holding up her flowing breasts. She quickly hurried to the back of the plane again. Brandon inhaled her as she passed.
Her frank matured California voice filled the cabin insisting passengers take their seats as the engines started heating up. Brandon's groin was heating up. He loved a mature women who would give him orders. Brandon's pants pinched his cock as it started filling. *I have a whole flight.*
Brandon closed his eyes and gave in to the fantasies running through his head, the fantasies that made him spread the plane blanket over his lap to not make his internal musings so obvious to his seat neighbor and those passing by. His fantasies took him to her breast flowing through his fingers as he groped her from behind and the hardening of her nipple against his middle finger. It lead him to his beard soaked with her juice and the shuddering of her legs wrapped around his head.
Brandon woke up in a jolt to the tremor of the drink cart approaching his seat. The petite bilingual stewardess shifted to his direction and asked him for his drink. "Tea please". She went to work. Brandon looked forward.
On the other side of the cart was his dream, down on one knee presenting the same view that started all the irritation in his loins. He stared outright, his hands covering his lap. Her breasts fell into that open space in her blouse, only to be caught in the tinge of her cherry red bra. If only they could fall onto his cock and flow over his tip and balls. She raised her eyes as her hands found the can of tomato juice. She caught him in the act again and for the second time they locked eyes.
"Your tea sir". The petite stewardess's hand was held out with a steaming cup. Brandon looked back, she had already gone back to work, serving the passenger a couple rows ahead. Brandon finally caught a glimpse of his dream's name tag.
*Marjorie...God, what I would give to have you Marjorie. Let you take a break from this work and serve you my aching cock.*
"All ready?" Marjorie inquired.
"Ready here," the petite stewardess replied. The cart shifted a few more rows back and as it did, Marjorie gave Brandon the look your fifth grade teacher has when she knows you have been up to no good. Brandon sat back and slowly sipped his tea. It burned his tongue slightly, leaving a numb tingling. He just could not pay attention.
Brandon sipped and sipped. He sipped through the initial burn and through the calming warmth. The tea energized him. He surely needed more. He peered to the back of the cabin. Marjorie was leaning on the back counter, remaining idle with no pressing work. Her back arched and her cheeks protruded into the space in the snack cabin. Brandon unbuckled his seat belt and stood with his cup heading to the back. He stopped in front of the vacant restrooms and cleared his throat.
"May I have some hot water," Brandon interjected, almost sheepishly. Marjorie turned her head and ID'ed Brandon immediately.
"I know you have been staring at me," she let out in an exerted whisper as she stepped towards him, "And I'm going to tell you young man that it is wildly inappropriate." She stood but a foot away from him. So close in these tight quarters with a plane full of people behind them. She was glaring up at him. Brandon's lean frame hovered a good 8 inches over her. Her energy filled his nostrils. Her blouse was still three buttons deep, just barely covering the start to her deep line of cleavage. Brandon's eyes slid from her determined golden tanned loose cheeks past the rouge in her lips and down to her wide open red bronzed freckled chest. Only then did he notice her finger pressing against his chest.
"You don't want me to stare at you," Brandon stated as a hinting question, not totally convinced that her words and loins shared the same feeling.
