No One Can Eat Just One

Rush to get ready, grab a cup of coffee, rush to the airport, rush to get through security, rush to get to the gate.

Time out. Ladies’ room.

Sitting there, I find my first chance to simply breathe a bit more calmly. My first chance of the day to collect myself, to think.

Then I realize that the person in the next stall is not collecting herself. She’s breathing anything BUT calmly and little thinking is going on.

I look down to my right and notice her foot in its sandal twitching, sliding sideways, then … stopping … toes curling. Uncurling. Slowly receding from view.

Now, I have more need than ever to collect myself. I’m not normally a voyeur, but imagining what was happening next to me was making my morning a bit complicated, again.

Then…a hand, under the partition. A hand offering me a tube of something with a note attached. I took the tube and began to read. As I read, I heard the sounds of the person in the next stall leaving quickly, leaving the rest room without stopping to arrange herself, fix her face, even wash her hands.

The tube read: “This is a personal lubricant with more. Warning: it may only be used once, and then must be given, and received, by another woman. The product is perfectly safe, and remarkably effective, but can be dangerous in many ways to the woman who chooses to use it a second … or more … time. Having accepted it, you may not rid yourself of this product until you have used it. Once. It will have no effect whatsoever upon any non-genital tissue.”

Bah. I’m not using ANYTHING that comes to me from under the stall of a public rest room. I slipped the tube and note into the feminine hygiene receptacle and left the rest room.

As I sat on the plane, looking out over the receding city of Houston, I reached into my purse to get my chapstick. Looking in, I saw the tube. The note.

Later, when it came time to use the rest room again, I tore up the note and flushed it. I squeezed the gel out of the tube into the sink and threw the empty tube into the waste paper basket. But, when I arrived back at my seat and after quickly checking my purse, the tube, and the note, were there again. As full as before.

I gasped, and the woman sitting in the seat one removed from me looked at me with concern. “Did you lose something? Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. I just realized that I forgot something. But, it’s ok. I’ll make do.”

I began to think about my situation. All that I knew was that I wasn’t going to get rid of this tube without using it. If, as I thought, the woman in the next stall at the airport had just used the contents of the tube, it couldn’t be all that bad. She certainly seemed to be enjoying herself.

After a discreet period of time, I returned to the restroom and sat down. I peed, cleaned up. Heart pounding, I squeezed the tiniest little drop of the lubricant onto my finger and applied it to my outer lips, low, as far from my most sensitive regions as I could do so.

Immediately a warmth began to suffuse my entire being. I could literally track the spread of the warmth from the area of its application. Back further to my anus, up, along the sides of my vulva to my mound. Deeper, into the inner folds and then up to my clitoris, which began to almost jump with sensation.

More deeply, as deep inside me as I had ever felt anything., there were sensations that were like, but unlike in their intensity, the experience of my most “successful” session of sex I could remember. My breasts joined the symphony, aching against the fabric of my bra. My face flushed, my neck, my chest. My breathing became a pant, then insistent panting and my heart was roaring within my chest. The very beating of my heart shook my chest such that it set off waves of sensation between nipples and bra. Even the sides of my breasts, the upper reaches, were sensitive to the movement of fabric almost to the point of pain. Exquisite pain.

My hips began to rock in the narrow confines of the airplane stall, and release seemed to be just around the corner. The need was greater than any tension I had ever felt.

And I had yet to touch my breasts. My pussy. Anything.

As I sat there, what I thought to be unbearable tension became more insistent, more in need of release. At this point, my fingers found my pussy and dove deep into their wet depths, the heel of my hand over my mound and my clitoris. Direct fingertip touch to my clit would have been unbearable, and the need to feel my hand deep within me drove me deeper inside myself than I had ever explored. My other hand could do nothing but barely succeed in keeping me from falling onto the floor.

The overwhelming orgasm shook me. It shook me to the root of my being, a root that I had thought I had found but realized I hadn’t even begun to understand. As I began to come back to my senses, I realized that my feet were up on the little sink and that a flight attendant was knocking on the door asking me if I were all right.

“Yes, yes. Sorry. I slipped, but I’m ok. I’ll be out in a second.” I had never been a loud sex partner, but I hoped against hope that my usual silent self had remained silent the last ten minutes. I had no idea whether that was true or not, though.

I dried myself as best I could. Pressing a shield into my panties, I felt that I was ready to go back to my seat. Looking at my face, the tendrils of sweaty hair around my ears dismayed me. I combed them back into the bulk of my hair as best I could, controlled my breathing and opened the door.

Back at my seat, the woman closest to me looked at me with concern. I reassured her that I was ok, just a bit bruised from falling and out of breath from the experience. She sat back, seemingly accepting the explanation. A few minutes later, however, she sniffed a bit and looked sharply at me.

The scent of sex was in the air, and she knew. She knew. I smiled back, in as good an imitation of Mona Lisa as I could muster, and broke the connection with her.

It was time to think. The tube said “One use.”

There was no way that I was giving that tube away to anyone. And there was no way I was going to never use it again.

To be continued…