0 comments/ 17864 views/ 3 favorites Fly United By: DemisOSprey I prefer to fly Business Class when I travel for work for a number of reasons. First, there's more room in the seats and in the cabin generally, in fact almost as much as they allocate to First Class. As I am a big guy, by body size, that sure comes in handy. Second, pretty much all the Business Class passengers are seasoned travellers, who know what they want and what they expect from the airline, so the cabin staff are also likely to be experienced, capable and very friendly, trying hard to please and retain these regular passengers. Third, Business Class tends to be a bit of a club for these regular travellers (in fact, is called Club Class on some airlines) and can be quite relaxed about all the normal airline rules by comparison with the other normal airline Classes. I find that relaxed atmosphere to suit my nature and preferences well. Last, of all the airline Classes, if a flight is not fully booked, it's most likely that the one with less passengers and more empty seats will be Business. This makes some specific flights even more relaxed and, at the same time, can lead to the few passengers flying in that Class getting a whole lot more attention from the Cabin Staff, even to the Flight Attendants sitting down with non-sleeping passengers and chatting for hours at a time. Actually, there are occasional flights where there may be only one or two passengers in the Class but with the full complement of Flight Attendants. It is one such flight that led to the following experience. I was departing a major middle-Eastern country on one of their airlines, booked all the way through via Bahrain and Bangkok to my home destination of Sydney in Australia. On embarkation, I noticed that I was one of only two Business Class passengers, the other being a minor local Sheikh who it turned out was only travelling the short hop to Bahrain for a weekend out of the tight non-alcoholic laws of his own country. He had, of course, chosen my airline so that, immediately into the flight, he could obtain his first scotch whiskey of the weekend, as this airline allowed that to all its passengers on outbound flights. He spent his time in his whiskey and I had a couple of quick cold flutes of complimentary champagne, followed by a cleansing beer. In Bahrain, the same aircraft was continuing through for the entire flight. The Sheikh disembarked, but I decided to remain on the aircraft, one of few to do so, as the airline generally liked to clean up the aircraft a bit while on the ground after each leg. As the first leg had been so short and with only two passengers, the Flight Attendants had little to do and were quite happy to leave me there with an extra beer to be going on with. So was I. I had expected the Business Class cabin to have filled up when the flight was getting ready to depart on the next leg but was surprised to find that as the cabin staff were bustling around, making ready to depart, I was still the only passenger there. In fact, only in Bangkok would more passengers being joining Business Class. It was also a point not lost on the Flight Attendants themselves, most of whom would be hugely bored with no-one to look after on a long leg. As both the other classes were completely full and the cabin staff in those classes were likely to be run off their feet, the Business Class girls started to discuss whether they would redeploy themselves to assist in those classes. Of course, I was the only "thorn in this ointment". What would they do with me? Would they shift me to one of the other classes, with the possible problem that I might be both very uncomfortable and very unhappy if they were forced to downgrade me? Or would they leave me where I was, which meant at least one of their number needed to remain with me, to look after me, keeping me happy and fully satisfied? Gladly for me, they decided on the latter, leading to the realisation of a long-held fantasy on that long night flight. I was to remain in Business Class, along with a pretty young Irish Flight Attendant named Helen, petite, slim and willowy. It seemed she was the youngest and least experienced of the crew, but perfectly capable, and she also seemed quite shy and quiet compared to the other more exuberant girls. I didn't mind that, though, as I am quite partial to quiet women. She was also a style of woman that I am especially partial to. As I mentioned, petite, slim and willowy, with pale-ish red hair (sort of mixed with blonde) and fair skin without being extremely pale or hugely freckled. For a short girl, her legs gave the impression of some length rather than being stumpy, she had slim but undoubtedly womanly hips and the swell of her pert upturned breasts pushed out the material of her flight uniform just nicely. But, of course, I didn't notice all of this. Much! So, the rest of the Business Class Flight Attendants disappeared to assist in the other two classes, leaving us alone. Helen bustled about in the galley for the first few minutes of the flight, while the Seat Belts sign was still lit. In fact, the time started to drag a little and, being an Aussie bloke, I was starting to get a little dry. I was just considering getting out of my seat and wandering back down to the galley to get a drink from Helen, when she popped her head around the corner of the galley and called out asking what I wanted to drink. I asked for my normal beer and she replied that she'd bring it down in a few moments. I responded that she needn't do that, I'd come up the back for it. Another thing I quite often do when I fly is stand at the galley with the crew, so that they do not have to run up and down the aisle to me in the middle of the night and also as it has often given me the chance to chat with the girls. Occasionally, this has led to getting together with some of the Flight Attendants while they're on lay-over in the same city in which I am staying. But those occasions are other stories. I arrived at the galley to see Helen's cute rear end pointed toward me, as she bent forward to rummage in one of the galley drawers for my beer. She found one, straightened up and turned around, to be surprised by me standing there. Her cheeks flushed a little and she asked me how long I had been there. Without thinking, I replied that I'd been standing there about 6 or 7 inches, a more crude variation on an old family in-joke, in which my father always replied "five foot ten and a half" whenever asked a How-Long question. He, of course, always meant his height, mine was just a little more basic. Helen's cheeks flushed a little bit more. Immediately, I regretted my insensitivity and lack of thought in what I said and started to apologise when Helen surprised the hell out of me by bursting out laughing and calling me a decidedly cheeky man. Thank God for the more relaxed atmosphere in Business Class, I thought, as I too started to laugh. Then she suprised me even more as she asked me, giggling, whether I liked her arse. Did I like her arse? Is the Pope an unwed Father? In for a penny, in for a pound, I told her that she had a fine arse, she had a beautiful arse, she had the arse of all arses, that her arse looked good enough to bury my face in. She stopped me there, in my tracks, by gently slapping my wrist and suppressing her laugh to an intriguing smile. She then told me that, if I was not better behaved, she'd take that arse out to one of the other classes and send another of the Flight Attendants back to deal with me. I had visions of being in a bit of trouble, which obviously showed on my face. She smiled up at me, in an impish fashion, and said "Gotcha, you cheeky man!". I smiled back, relaxed, realising that she too had enjoyed the exchange and wasn't really offended by it at all. So, I told her, yes, her rear end was very cute, at which she beamed back at me and thanked me for the compliment. I asked her if she minded me hanging out there at the galley with her and she said it was fine and, in fact, the company was welcome, as she'd never before worked a flight without the other girls around and she thought it would be lonely to do so. But she said that, with only me in the class, she was not going to have a whole lot to do and thought we'd both get bored just standing around. Plus she'd like to get a chance to get off her feet. Of course, if I was going to continue to drink beer, one of us would always have to be jumping up and down to get me a fresh one pretty regularly. So I asked her if she'd be happy to grab me a couple of bottles of the airline's complimentary champagne, plus some ice, take them down to my seat and sit with me for a while. She remarked that she'd assumed that, after a while, I would have gone to sleep and that she'd planned to curl up on one of the seats close to the galley for a little snooze, so my suggestion would sort of fit in with that. I mentioned that I rarely, if ever, slept during a flight but that, if she wanted, she could for a while and I'd wake her if I really needed anything that we had not thought of yet. Rather cryptically, she asked whatever I might mean by that but did not continue to elaborate and left it at that. I let the moment slide, not really thinking that she meant anything by it. Once she'd finished the absolute necessities in the galley, she turned the cabin lights down lower and we adjourned to my seating area, sitting side by side. I opened the first bottle of champagne and I poured myself a glass. Instantly realising how impolite that seemed, I asked her if she wanted one too. She told me that it was not allowed for Flight Attendants to drink during the flight, as they had passengers to look after. I pointed out how silly that all seemed in the current circumstance, mentioned that I'd never tell if she didn't and asked again if she WANTED a glass, not would she HAVE one. She seemed to sit and mull it over a moment then, instead of replying, she jumped up from her seat next to me, skipped quickly up the aisle and disappeared into the galley. I thought that she had come to a realisation that maybe this situation might have been getting a little out of control and that she'd decided to go back to her original plans for the flight. I found that made me feel a little sad and disappointed. But, now, she skipped back down the aisle toward me, bringing a glass for herself and another bottle, which she told me was "just in case". Again somewhat cryptically, she told me she didn't think that we'd want to have to get up to go to the galley yet again. Once again, I let this slide, although I have to admit that I had by now begun to dare to think of where it all MIGHT lead. She settled down beside me again, with her legs up on the seat beneath her, took the opened bottle from me and poured herself a glass. We both sipped at our glasses and chatted idly awhile about our lives, what we'd done and where we were from. We refilled once or twice and continued to fill each other in on details of our lives. I had noticed that, when she'd been away to fetch the second glass, she had shed the little jacket that all the Flight Attendants wore over the top of their uniform blouse. Looking down, I could see the faint line of her bra straps through the light material of her blouse and, as my eyes followed the line of the straps, also noticed the slightly distinctive lacy look of her bra cups underneath the blouse. After a few moments of savouring the beautiful view, I slowly moved my eyes back up to her face, to find her watching me intently. She called me a really cheeky man again and asked whether I liked her breasts too. I started to open my mouth to spill out some further crap about them but she stopped me by putting her finger up against my lips to shoosh me and reached down to the top button of her blouse with the other hand. She undid the button, wriggled her shoulders a little to open up the blouse a little more and leaned forward toward me to replace her finger with her soft lips in a brief kiss. As I started to move to make the kiss a little more intense, she broke away and swivelled her body around to lay across me, leaning against my far shoulder. I pulled her a little closer into the crook of my shoulder with the arm wrapped around her back, holding her comfortably in place. Looking down at her, I was able to have a great view of the twin swells of her breasts, the cleavage between them and the pure white soft lace cups of her bra. I was also able to notice that it fastened in front but stopped myself short of reaching to release the catch. Instead, I undid the next two buttons of her blouse, as I moved my mouth forward to kiss her on the lips again. As we kissed, our mouths opening a little more, she hunched her shoulder up, freeing it from the confines of the blouse. I slid the blouse down her arm, which she drew completely out of the sleeve. I undid the remaining buttons of the blouse, pulled it from the waistband of her skirt and flipped it round behind her, giving myself full access to most of her bare upper body. I started stroking the exposed patches of bare skin gently, rubbing all over her upper body but initially avoiding those parts covered by the bra. She moved a little on me and was making a sort of purring sound in the back of her throat. This spurred me to slide the bra strap off her shoulder and down her arm, which she again drew out of the garment. This relaxed the tight fit of the bra cup and exposed more of her left breast to view. I could see the pale skin changing to the rosy pink of her nipple, which I could see was also becoming quite hard and erect. I reached within the cup to pop that breast out of its confines and began to massage the nipple with my thumb. Almost instantly, it became noticeably more erect. She made that purring sort of sound just a little louder and reached beneath my arm to the catch between the cups of her bra. She flipped it open, allowing the cups to drop away from her breasts, exposing them both to the air fully. The slight coolness of the airconditioned atmosphere of the cabin caused the nipples of both breasts to be instantly fully erect and hard like little stones at the end of the perfectly-sized appendages. I continued to massage them, making the aureolae area around them begin to rise as well. She murmured that she had thought, and had hoped, that she might have been able to hold out a little longer than this. My response was just to kiss her again. She broke the kiss and whispered that she had hoped to make this a lot harder for me. Again, my response was to kiss her, until I broke the kiss to tell her that she had. She giggled and informed me that she knew, she could feel it, as she was lying across me with her side against my now growing cock. She moved away a little to raise herself up on her knees as I turned a little on the seat to face her more front on. While she was up there, she took the opportunity to complete the removal of her blouse and bra, which gave me the chance to concentrate on her right breast a little more than had been possible with her laying across me as she had been. I was able to cup both breasts in my hands and massage the nipples even more. Then, with my hands beneath her armpits, I hefted her up a little to place her tits within the reach of my mouth. I licked each of the nipples, then sucked them into my mouth, nibbling on them with my lips and swirling my tongue around them. They had become really hard and warm now and the quiet noise within her throat was becoming both a little more pronounced and a lot more ragged now. She reached down and was unbuttoning my shirt, putting her little hands inside to squeeze, flick and tweak my nipples as well. She rocked back off my hands supporting her and pulled the shirt off my shoulders and partway down my arms. Rather than being somewhat twisted up in the shirt, I took it off completely, at which she launched herself forward again to the position she'd been in before and allowed me to resume the stimulatation of her breasts and nipples. While I was thus pleasurably engaged, one of her hands left my upper body and reached down once more, this time rubbing across the front of my soft cotton Pakistani-style trousers and exploring the feel of my growing erection. She slid her hand back and forth along its length a few times and then massaged my balls in their soft skin sac, cupping them in her hand and squeezing very softly. When wearing that style of trousers, I rarely wear underwear and this occasion was no different. The touch of her hand almost right on the skin of my cock and balls was having the profound effect of bringing blood rushing into the organ from the rest of my body. As she felt it grow even more, lengthening and thickening in her hand, she once again concentrated on the shaft, rubbing back and forth a little more urgently now. She murmured that she wanted to feel it in her hand itself and, without waiting for me to respond or do anything to assist her with that objective, she reached into the top of the waistband and tugged deftly at the drawer-string holding it closed tight. The knot released, freeing the waistband completely and she slid her hand straight down onto the object of her attention. As she curled the fingers of her hand around the shaft, my cock leapt a little, delighting her, by the little peal of laughter that she gave when she felt it. She whispered that she thought he liked what she was doing and jacked up and down the shaft a few more times a little harder. I could feel it continuing to grow and, pleased by her enjoyment of my cock in her hand, decided that it was time that I gave her a little similar pleasure to what I was feeling between my legs. Helen had now taken her full weight on her knees, perhaps sensing what I was about to do and knowing that I would not be able to provide the support to keep her up in the position that she was in. I removed one hand from her upper body and slid it down over her arse and hip outside her skirt. Going down past the hem, I stroked her nylon-clad calf and the back of her knee. As I commence to slowly slide my hand up and down on her thigh, moving a little higher with each upward stroke, further under her skirt, I realised that we were going to have a problem when I got to the top of her thighs. I was assuming that her pantiehose were going to make access to her sweet secret female regions difficult. I was delighted to find, though, when I slid my hand near to the beginning swell of her bum at the top of her thigh, that I had encountered the soft but taut skin of her leg, unenclosed by nylon. Not pantiehose, then! At first, I thought she might have been wearing stockings and a garter belt but then determined that this was a thoroughly modern girl who was wearing self-supporting stockings. Encouraged, I slid the palm of my hand onto the cheek of her arse. The same soft but taut skin as on her thigh. No knickers??? This was my first thought as a stroked the skin of her bum, until further exploration revealed a g-string (or maybe it was a t-string) which I traced down into the crack of her arse and as far as I could reach between her legs from that direction. I could feel the increasing heat from the centre of her femininity, as I stroked the silken material of her knickers between her legs. She gave a little sort of involuntary twitch as she felt my fingers close to the petals of her most private flower, the portal of the well from which springs all life. By now, I could tell that she was starting to get keen to move events forward a bit, as she had temporarily let go of my rigid cock and straining balls, and had grasped the waistband of my trousers on either side of my hips, and was beginning to pull them down, to free my dick for whatever we may decide to do next. I helped by lifting the weight of my lower body off the seat so that the trousers could slide freely beneath my arse. Not needing any further invitation, Helen slid them right down to my knees, leaving them there to get a hand back onto my cock and point it straight up into the air. She then proceeded to rub up and down the shaft, curling her fingers and thumb around it and twisting them slightly back and forth, as she slid her hand up and down. Fly United If nothing else, I now knew that she gave a great handjob, as it felt like my cock was continuing to grow, even though I was sure it was fully erect. As a man, I consider myself to be of average length, six to seven inches, although I'd like to think that the girth is just a little thicker than average. But, at this stage, I felt much thicker and longer than I thought I normally was able to achieve. My guess is that it was all the heat of the moment but, really, what did it matter? Helen was not complaining and seemed more than happy with what she had uncovered. As she continued jacking me, I slid my hand around beneath her skirt and stroked up the inner side of her thigh toward her hot, moistening pussy. Once again, she twitched a little more as I neared the elastic of her silken knickers. I slid the fingers of my hand right between legs, onto the silk-covered lips of her pussy. I moved the hand back and forth, attempting to gently part the lips of her cunt and begin to release more of the moistness that I could feel starting to dampen the gusset of her knickers. At the same time, I flipped my thumb up the front of her knickers and applied it to the hardening nub of her clit, which I could feel quite erect beneath the cloth. By scissoring my hand slightly, I was able to start to get a rhythm going there to which she responded by a slight back and forth movement of her hips. I rotated my thumb around her clit on top of her knickers for a brief while, then decided that it was time to rub it direct with my hand. I slid my fingers up to the elastic band at the top of the knickers, inserted them beneath it and angled my fingers down toward her hot little clit. She had swivelled her body a little to make access easier and I found it quickly with my fingers. After a quick little flick or two, I slid my fingers further down the crevice of her pussy, seeking the inside of her lips, looking for the moisture that I knew was now starting to flow from within her. I wanted to lubricate my fingers and thumb somewhat, so that I wasn't just rubbing dry on her clit, a feeling that might cause more pain than pleasure. I could feel the lips of her cunt puffing up, filling with the blood that was providing most of the heat I could feel between her legs and that was starting to open up the flower petals of her inner pussy. As I inserted my fingers into the hot, wet folds of her pussy to coat them with her fluids, she swivelled her hips about until I felt a couple of my fingers slide inside a bit past the first knuckle. She obviously felt them too, as she then began to bounce up and down on them, in the same manner as I was seriously now hoping that she would very soon on my cock. As she bounced, she also increased the rhythm with which she was stroking my rigid dick, to match them to the same tempo. This gave the strange sensation that we were already sort of fucking and I found it extremely erotic. I'd never yet found someone else who had done quite this same thing and knew that both this girl and this experience were something extra special in my life, a never-to-be-forgotten chapter of my life-story. Helen was taking my two fingers inside of herself easily now and, for a minute or so, I slid my thumb inside to join them as they were encased and released by the walls of her pussy. She was warm, wet, soft and velvety inside but by no means was there a sensation of any looseness, as the fit around my intruding digits was quite snug and tight. When I decided that my thumb was quite wet enough, I flipped it out onto her clit and replaced it in her cunt with my other two fingers for a few moments. She was now forcing herself quite determinedly but still carefully onto my fingers and there was more of them inside her than outside. It was pretty obvious that, between us, we had got her going now, well on her way to being ready to slip my cock into the hot, wet crevasse between her legs. With my other hand and hers, at the same time, we both reached to unfasten her skirt, ready to get her completely naked. We loosened it and slid the zip down but, of course, there was still no way that we could fully remove her skirt without her unimpaling herself from my fingers and her standing up to let it drop to the floor. Well, there probably was, but we were both so carried away that we were not devoting the intellectual attention to that type of technical conundrum. Actually, it was probably an appropriate time to break the intense rhythm of what we were doing as her ministrations on my cock were likely to very soon blow a geyser of cream straight up into the air. Couple of problems with that; gravity would make it land somewhere, maybe on the outside of her uniform, which would be a highly inappropriate place for it to be spotted later (think Bill Clinton, Monica Lewinsky, blue dress) by one of her crewmates. Equally importantly, it would break the inevitability of the point to which we were moving, as we would more than likely have to rebuild the whole thing once again. I was by no means certain that I could fire off that much cum, not get it all over the place and still maintain the erection necessary to complete the fuck in the manner that I knew we were both seeking. So, regretfully, we both took our hands off each other, stood her up and let the skirt drop, followed by my sliding her skimpy silken knickers off to join the rest of her gear on the floor of the cabin. These were quickly followed by my trousers, leaving us both essentially naked. I still had shoes and socks on, but determined that they were not likely to get in her way. She'd removed her shoes earlier, when she folded her legs underneath herself on the seat, but was still wearing the elastic-topped nylon stockings. She asked if I wanted her to take them off as well but I indicated that they were not going to be a problem. Well, certainly not for me, anyway. As we had now sort of taken the edge off both our arousal, I decided that we had both the time and the opportunity now to rework ourselves back to fever pitch with some more foreplay. I wanted to taste the sweet honey nectar from her pussy, so I lay myself down across the seats and moved her to put a leg either side of my head. I then pulled her sweet, warm, moist pussy down onto my mouth and started to lave her clit with my tongue. She quickly responded positively to my idea and slid her hips backward and forward so that I was also licking the inner side of her pussylips, as well as occasionally thrusting my tongue up into the inner recesses of her cunt. The taste and scent of her was absolute bliss, and I expect that I could have quite happily just continued to do that until she came "in buckets". Helen had no intention of being left out of this sheer pleasure, though, and hit upon the excellent idea to start licking on the head of my dick, like it was some sort of hot, hard, long Icy Pole. She swirled her tongue around the swollen, purple mushroom top and slid her mouth up and down the shaft, her lips either side of it but the shaft still not within the cavity of her mouth. That soon followed, however. I felt the touch of her lips and tongue, kissing and licking the head of my cock, then her lips open and encase the bulb at the top of it. Her tongue wriggled around it and flicked the eye a number of times. Any thought that I had gotten any softer quickly disappeared, just like the shaft of my cock began to disappear into the warm, moist mouth now encasing my cock in its heat. She began to bob her head up and down, replicating the action of a pussy on the sensitive skin of my dick. I started to thrust my hips toward her slightly as she took the downward strokes, forcing a little more of the length each time into her mouth. At first, she seemed a little uncomfortable with my dick intruding a little further into her throat than she had expected but she rapidly worked out that she could control the amount of cock moving into her by bobbing down a little less. As she continued, she also realised that it was possible to time the slight relaxation of her throat muscles to allow my cock further in without discomfort. She didn't do this on every thrust but often enough to make my cock feel privileged and for me to know that, as well as great handjobs, she also gave great head. I was still manfully applying my tongue to every part of her pussy and clit that I could possibly reach with it and could feel her hip movements starting to get a little erratic, with the odd twitching now and again to signal that she was building to some sort of a climax, if I could keep it up. The end of me with the tongue was not, of course, going to be the problem and I had to start to weigh up whether I wanted to cum as we were, in this position with me somewhere within her mouth or throat, or whether I wanted to call a halt to the oral sex and insist on getting my dick into her tight, wet pussy. Believe it or not, I decided that it would be more than a little ungallant of me not to allow her to continue on to the satisfaction and fulfillment that I knew was beginning to approach for her through the ministrations of my mouth and tongue. Hell, it's not as if I was not going to enjoy cumming in her mouth anyway (after all, in the end, I AM just a man), but it did present the difficulty that I knew I had to offer her the opportunity to get her mouth off my cock before I commenced firing my cum down her throat. The difficulty was that I had my mouth sort of almost as full of the folds of her pussy, as her mouth was with my increasingly rampant cock. Hmmm, probably an overstatement but I was sure going to find it almost impossible to talk clearly and concisely enough for her to understand what I was trying to tell her. Ultimately, though, it proved the saying that 85 percent of worry never happens as, all of a sudden, her hip motions started to get a little crazy and all manner of twitching began at the core of her femininity, accompanied by a bit of a rush of additional fluid from within her pussy. As these movements intensified briefly, she drew her head back up away from my cock and started to emit a series of brief little "Oh" sounds as the sensations swept over and through her body. I was deeply impressed too by the control with which she kept the sounds of her climax to a level that could be contained within the confines of the Business Class cabin area. The bulkheads in a modern jet airliner are not thick and I had absolutely no idea what might or might not be heard through those near us, nor did I have sufficient orientation of the aircraft to know what was on the other side of any of them. Somewhere within herself, Helen did have just some such knowledge, almost like she had been trained to it. I'll be damned, though, if I'd believe that airlines train their Flight Attendants to fuck their passengers with sufficient control of both the volume and intensity of their orgasms. She managed it all, too, without having to stick something into or over her mouth, even though I had something to offer in that regard and our clothing was fairly close to hand. Just that soft excited series of "Oh" sounds, coming from the mouth and throat that had recently held my cock. I'm pretty sure that, really, it was all just achieved through some subconscious level of job preservation thought processes. Still impressive, though, for all that! While I knew what she was having wasn't an earth-shattering orgasm, I felt that it might be enough to satisfy the gallantry that I had offered wordlessly a few minutes before and that it might even just be enough to build into an even better climax with my cock buried to the hilt within her. I wanted to hope that anyway. I was about to bring her around to a position on top of me where I might begin the penetration process, when she forthrightly informed me that she "wanted it inside her". With a little assistance from myself to position her, she straddled my hips, we took hold of my cock together and placed it just within the outer folds of her pussy. Feeling the heat and moisture of her opening positioned correctly on top of the mushroom head of my cock, I started to make little short movements, feeling the head pop just in and out of the tight seal of her pussy. I reached between us to rub the nub of her clit as I moved just in and out of her, which excited her from the little sounds of approval that she made. I was finding the sensations intensely pleasurable and it seemed that she was too, as she held herself still to let me continue what I was doing. Soon, though, Helen started slowly to move up and down to mirror my movements, with the effect that I could feel her pussy unfolding within and my cock begin to gradually slide further within its tight, hot sheath easily. She began to intensify her motions, forcing more and more of my cock more deeply inside herself. We fell into an easy rhythm, gradually a little faster, with the effect that even more of the length of my cock disappeared into her. I was delightedly watching this at first, an intensely erotic sight for a man, but pulled her face down to mine for a deep, tongue-tangling kiss as almost the entire length of my rigid dick was buried within her ... Oh, I guess you readers would find it strange that neither of us had seemed to stop to even think anything about safe sex, condoms or any of the other considerations of modern sexual relations. In fact, I knew, we both knew that expatriate workers in all industries in the Middle East are regularly required to undergo testing to prove that they are completely STD-free. During our chatting before the situation became sexual, Helen had explained that she'd split from her previous boyfriend, a pilot with the same airline, about a year earlier. They'd met in Dublin, working for a British airline, and had ended up living together there for a while, during which time she'd gone on the Pill despite being "a good Catholic girl", as they'd not wanted children to complicate the relationship. They had both then taken jobs with this airline, living together in Bahrain until she'd returned from a separate flight one evening to find him fucking another of the airline Flight Attendants. She'd finished the relationship immediately and moved into one of the shared appartments with a number of the other Flight Attendants. From that time, she'd walled herself off and promised herself she would not even think of guys. Whatever, she was disease-free, having had the results of her last test very recently, a long time after her last sexual encounter, and safe from falling pregnant. Myself, I had also tested very recently, clean as well. Perhaps somewhat foolishly, we each didn't check the other's documentation, although we could have (just one of many documents you always carry with you while in the Middle East), but as you've read above, things just sort of moved a little quickly. Back to the sex ... She kissed me back intensely but then decided that she wanted to try to impale herself more deeply on my thrusting cock. She rocked her upper body back up away from me and forced her lower body down onto me as I thrust even further into her. Our pubic bones pushed hard against each other, our pubic hair tangled together, my dark coarse ones amongst her reddish fine silken mat. We rocked together, our hips moving fluidly, as the friction of my cock against the walls of her pussy built the sensations for both of us. I continued to massage her clit every chance I could, along with her breasts and nipples with the other hand. I wanted to rebuild the sexual tension within her body, once more, as quickly as I could, because I knew that I was somewhere very close to cumming myself and that there were only three chances, Buckley's, mine and none, of my being able to delay my climax for any further great length of time. We moved against each other more and more quickly, my cock now sliding very easily within her, right up to the centre of her being, the head probing all around her cervix. It felt to me that, occasionally, my cock thrust within the folds of her cervix, although I have never been able to accurately work out if I've ever slipped into anyone that far, to tell you the full and honest truth. This specific time, it sure felt like it though. As the cervix is in some way sensitive, even if I am not completely sure whether it has sufficient nerve endings to deserve to be or why it should be so, completely enclosed deep within the pussy, the sensations of my cock head pushing around Helen's, along with the other manipulations I was making of her sexual organs, had her once more beginning to scale the heights of sexual ecstacy and I'd been there for a while now. We both redoubled our efforts, sensing that I at least was about to go off. When I did cum, it caught me just a little by surprise, as I was almost sure that I had a few more mighty thrusts left within myself before spraying my copious load of cream around inside her. But the first mighty spurt came, releasing from the eye of my dick to mingle with Helen's own internal fluids. The intense feelings of orgasm began to overtake me, swamping a momentary tinge of disappointment that I had not been able to bring her back up to a point where she might cum along with me. As the sensations of orgasm swept through me, though, that twinge was buried deep, about as deep as I was still thrusting into Helen's sweet, tight cunt. Sorry, but I am being realistic, that's what is like momentarily for a man. After the intensity dies away, a reasonably sensitive guy will, once more, find that feeling of regret that he might have just done better for the girl he has just been fucking. Then, if he's a real man, he'll try to find mutually pleasurable postplay that will bring his partner to her own satisfactory fulfillment as well. Happily for Helen and I, on this specific occasion, that did not prove to be an essential item, for she in turn reached her second climax just a little behind mine. This time she went off a bit more like a firecracker, more the redheaded orgasm that I knew she most likely had inside of her somewhere. As I had continued to thrust inside her and erratically fondle her clit, she had found her moment. I'm sure that's the truth of it. While I did everything that I could think of to give her pleasure, I believe that she reached inside herself and found a deep desire for and love of sex that helped her catch up to me, with a little help from me. As the convulsions of her orgasm manifested themselves by a few crazy gyrations of her hips and the grinding of her cunt hard down onto my still twitching and thrusting cock, we both seemed to simultaneously become worried that she might not be able to control her noise level this time around. We launched into a deep, erotic kiss, during which she expelled a great breath of air and sound into my mouth, muffling the noise to an acceptable level. She followed that with a number of other smaller pants and noises into my mouth as we kissed for quite a long time. As we did that, I gradually stopped my thrusting into her pussy, my dick's twitching and spurting began to cease, Helen's convulsions began to slow and diminish and we both started to come down from the height of sexual passion to relax peacefully within each other's arms. I stopped the almost constant stimulation of her clit and nipples, preferring rather to stroke her body gently and let the sensations of orgasm subside at their own pace. On her part, though, she continued to hold her pussy close to my cock, keeping the softening part of me as far within herself as its diminished length would allow. She whispered that she didn't want it to go, almost as if there was more with which she expected it to provide her. For me at least, as a man, that's a moment of great insecurity and vulnerability, as it leads to thinking that the performance might have been somehow lacking. I suspect greatly that it's the reason so many men ask the question that, in my experience, all girls and women seem to hate, except when they're asking it themselves: Fly United "Was it good for you, too?" I admit to asking that silly question myself on a number of occasions when I was young but finally realised later that the perceived reason for asking it, that regret at my cock leaving her pussy, causing any man to feel he might not have quite done well enough, is in fact a bit of a fallacy. I think it's just the natural feeling for a woman upon the impending loss of the cock filling her femininity. In the same way that the penetration and insertion of the cock gives a woman a feeling of being filled, to remove it brings with it a feeling of emptiness and loss. I think it might just be part of the human wiring. Helen and I lay together quietly, our breathing coming back to normal, and my cock finally slid from within the outer folds of her pussy. She rolled from on top of me to my side and massaged my now soft dick with her hand and cupped my balls in their sac. She slid down quickly, kissed and licked my cock a couple of times, then just as quickly moved back up to fold herself into my arms. We lay like that for quite a while, chatting, stroking and playing with each other, until we both realised that my cock had once again begun to awaken, beginning to fill once more with the blood that would bring it back fully erect. She told me to hold that thought, jumped up again and raced up the aisle naked to the galley to check how far through this leg of the flight we had got. When she ran back down the aisle and rejoined me on the seats, she told me that we still had almost two hours till landing in Bangkok, about just under an hour before we would have to be dressed again and ready to expect the other Flight Attendants coming back to Business Class, in order for us to be safe from discovery. With no further words, she kneeled on the floor between my legs and sucked my slowly hardening cock into her warm, soft mouth. As she started to build my erection with the pleasurable sensations provided by her mouth, lips and tongue, she lifted her mouth from me once more to murmur, "So, I thought we might have another craic at that, my man! Especially seeing as you have been such a well-behaved passenger and a pleasure to fly with!" Which we did! Anything else is likely to be an anticlimax, other than I know how many people hate to leave the ending of a story "up in the air" so to speak. Helen had a lay-over in Sydney of a couple of days, which we spent at my place in mutual pleasure. Then she had to fly out and, sadly, although we had made tentative plans for me to meet up with her back in the Middle East, I was unable to obtain another Working Visa for the country in which I had worked, for quite a while. I suspect that their authorities had always known of my illegal alcohol brokering to many of my friends there to help them out and for extra spending money for myself. Whatever, it was a couple of years before I was able to get back over that way. To my knowledge, she had not flown into Sydney either but, perhaps, she just didn't call. Of course, Helen and I corresponded for a while, by email and by phone, but gradually we lost touch and I imagine that, having rediscovered her inate love of sex, she had once again become receptive to a relationship with some man, who was there, when I wasn't. Would we have lasted anyway? Who knows? Sometimes having to live closely with someone destroys great sex, sometimes it doesn't. But I have the memory of a great flight with Helen to keep me warm, whenever I am cold and lonely on a flight anywhere. I wonder if any of the Flight Attendants have ever figured out the cryptic smile on my face whenever I think of that flight.