26 comments/ 109869 views/ 123 favorites Best on Board By: blin18 Author's Note All characters appearing in this work are over the age of 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Seven and a half thousand meters! And yes, the seatbelt light is still on. Ah Bob, you've still got it! Bob had set himself a challenge: to calculate the maximum altitude of the plane he was on before it reached that altitude. And it was hard, too; not just a case of looking up the cruising altitude of the plane. This was a short hop flight from Sydney to Coffs Harbour, the airline wouldn't waste fuel getting all the way up to an efficient cruising altitude; it would only spend a few minutes there before having to descend. For one, that wouldn't leave enough time for a pass of the service trolley, and secondly the airline would save fuel on the shorter climb. Bob wasn't exactly thrilled by this trip, so a good mental exercise spiced it up a bit. Mum had virtually kicked him out of the house. He could still her barbs ringing in his ears. Best On Board 02: First Class Best On Board 02: First Class Meanwhile Spike was enthusiastically coaching Bob about how he should handle the whole Amy situation and had assumed that Bob's lack of eye contact meant that he was eagerly watching for Amy's return so that he could instantly swing into action. In actual fact, Bob wasn't listening to a word; he was waiting for Vicky to look around, desperate not to miss a chance at catching her gaze. "So, Plan A is see if she's with a friend, or if she can call one," Spike recapped, ticking off points on his fingers. "If that doesn't fly then ...," he paused, expecting some kind of affirmation from Bob. "Bob! Bobby! Earth to Bob; are you reading me?" "Huh?" Bob flicked his eyes to Spike and then back over Spike's shoulder to Vicky across the room. "What are you looking at?" he asked. "C'mon man, don't make me turn around like a dickhead. She's over there isn't she? Is she talking to a guy? Oh fuck, she's standing right behind me, isn't she?" Two guys had just approached Vicky and Celeste's booth. They had improbably styled hair and open neck shirts unbuttoned about half way down their hairy chests. From his years of schoolyard geekdom, Bob identified them immediately as belonging to the genus Sleazebag. Species: Asshole. One guy was a head taller than the other and wore a thick, gaudy gold chain around his neck. He seemed to be the leader; the shorter guy was just smiling and nodding and leering at Vicky. Bob saw Celeste smile half-heartedly - nothing like the sunbeam she turned on the barman – she shook her head at Gold Chain and said something that Bob couldn't hear. "Oh, shit!" Bob muttered under his breath. Curiosity got the better of Spike's cool vibe and he reluctantly turned around, smiling when he saw who Bob was watching. "Bob," he laughed. "I love your ambition, man. You are bloody bro-tastic, mate. You pass on the third hottest girl in Coffs so you can take run at one and two with your wingman." Still watching Vicky and Celeste trying to deal with the sleazebags, Spike continued: "That redhead is smoking hot, mate, but shit, there're no loser with those two so you take your pick, my friend. I'll take the other and be bloody grateful for it." Taking a long last look he added "Those guys are getting shot down though, so we'd better get a Plan B sorted ...." As Spike began to turn back around, Bob brushed past him walking purposefully towards the girls. "Bob! No, man! Not cool!" he hissed. "At least wait for those guys to drag away their bloodied corpses." Bob either didn't hear him or didn't care. "Cluster fuck!" Spike muttered. He jumped up and dumped a fifty dollar note on the bar. "Bottle of champers and four empties, my man," he blurted urgently to the barman. Pointing towards where Bob was walking, he added "Keep the change if you can meet me at that end of the bar in fifteen seconds." With a practiced dexterity borne of half a lifetime in a pub, the bartender whipped a full bottle from the fridge, handed four champagne flutes to Spike and then shadowed him up the bar as he ripped off the foil and cage, popping the cork and handing it over without breaking stride just as they reached the far corner of the bar. At the booth, Bob was behind the assholes and trying to move into a gap where Vicky could spot him. "Actually we're just waiting for our boyfriends," Celeste said, losing her serenity and sounding tired and more than a little annoyed. "So you'd really be doing us a favour if you didn't let them see us chatting to a couple of hot guys." "Oh well, we'll just keep you company until they get here and then we'll sneak away," Gold Chain crooned. "They won't even see us." He made to sit beside Celeste but she slid down the bench to block him. The gap opened up and Vicky spied Bob standing back and looking nervous. "Oh, here they are now," she smiled at Bob. "See ya later, guys. Thanks for keeping the creeps away from us." Still standing, Gold Chain looked around at Bob, four inches shorter, considerably narrower and looking decidedly uncertain. The even shorter sleazebag laughed and took his cue from his taller partner: "No way is that guy your boyfriend." Vicky stepped quickly out of the booth and between the assholes. She put her arms around Bob's neck and pulled herself up onto the toes of her flat sandals to kiss him deeply on the lips. Understanding that this was part real and partly staged, Bob slipped his own arms around her narrow waist, feeling the cotton move sensuously over her soft, bare skin, and kissed her back; meeting her tongue with his and matching its intensity; tasting the sharp tang of champagne in her mouth. She slowly broke the kiss with a soft "Mmmmm" and dropped back down to her heels without moving away; her body still moulded into Bob's and her small, firm breasts pressing into his chest. She blinked a few times and looked into his blue eyes, brushing away the stray lock of black hair. "Hello, Bob," she husked. "We've been waiting for you." Moving her arms down and around his waist, she gave him a welcoming squeeze, as if to suggest that the kiss was by no means just a prop to get rid of Gold Chain and his creepy sidekick. At that moment, Spike arrived with his bottle and cluster of glasses. Pretending not to be surprised by the beauty in the white dress who was still wrapped around Bob, he stepped up to Gold Chain and touched him on the chest with the fistful of glasses. "Problem?" he asked. Gold Chain looked down at Spike, who was a bit shorter than Bob but a hand's width broader than the tall guy through the shoulders and easily the same again deeper in the chest. Gold Chain took a moment to observe the thick, bunched muscles of Spike's surf-toned body and then blinked and stepped back. "No problem," he said, coughing a croak from his voice. "We were just doing a bar run and checking whether the girls wanted anything." "Need any more drinks, ladies?" Spike asked without taking his eyes off Gold Chain. "No thanks," they trilled in unison with obvious amusement, wanting to laugh but understanding that it wouldn't help. "Righty-o, then. Hasta mañana," he said as they stepped away in unison and turned. "But don't get any onya," Celeste finished the old flip off with a song in her voice as they retreated. "Sorry about that," Spike smiled at her. "I was just covering my mate," he gestured at Bob with the bottle. And then maybe a bit reluctantly: "We'll leave you alone; just give us a hoy at the bar if those dicks come back." "Bob, grab your friend's bottle and pour us a drink," Celeste giggled at his reluctant chivalry, sliding back across the bench to make room. I don't think he wants to sit with us." Spike did a double-take at Bob, seeming to notice for the first time that Vicky was still locked onto him even though the sleazebags had gone. She tipped back up onto her toes and stole another kiss, laughing at the clueless look on Spike's face. "Spike, this is Vicky," Bob said, smiling as he watched Spike's confusion melt into realisation. "And that's Celeste. You'll like her; she's a schemer, too." "Bob!" Celeste cried in mock outrage, patting the seat beside her for Spike. "I'm an enabler, not a schemer!" She watched Spike's thighs bunch as he lowered into the booth and studied his tanned and rugged features while he was occupied setting out the glasses and pouring the champagne. "Consider your favour repaid, Bob," she said, still eyeing Spike hungrily. "In full!" referencing her role in bringing Bob and Vicky together on the plane earlier that day. "Huh?" Spike said, looking up as he waited for the bubbles to settle from the first pour in each glass. "Never mind," smiled Celeste, touching his thigh and shivering at the latent power in his thick muscles. "We're just glad you two came along." "Bob's the man," Spike said, looking across as Bob and Vicky sat down. "I was going to sit there and let you two cut those guys down on your own." Vicky was holding Bob's hand under the table and gave it a long squeeze. "To Bob, then," Celeste said, taking a glass and toasting. They all clinked glasses and drank, Bob blushing deeply to the roots of his dark hair. ~~~ Sometime after 9pm, the lights went down and the TVs switched from sport to pre-mixed music videos. The music was pumped through the bar's sound system and some coloured lights outlined an area of uncarpeted floor that could be charitably described as a dance-floor. It would probably work a lot better with the live music on Saturday night, but the selection was mostly nice, safe retro numbers; although Bob noticed that Vicky was unconsciously tapping along and moving to the music in her seat. They had all swapped stories of how they came to be here, leaving out the lurid details of what happened on the airplane. Spike balanced up what he was hearing against what he saw when Vicky and Bob found each other again and correctly reasoned that he wasn't getting the whole story. Bob re-told the tale of how Celeste lured him back onto the plane and as good as asked him out right in front of the captain and co-pilot. Celeste gave a very uncustomary "Aw, shucks" look – she may even have been blushing – and everybody laughed at her gall. "Should Vicky and I give you two some private time?" Spike laughed, gently squeezing Celeste's bare thigh under the table as if to suggest that he had no intention whatsoever of leaving her alone with Bob. "No!" Bob and Vicky exclaimed in perfect wide-eyed unison, and they all collapsed in gales of laughter again. The threads of conversation deepened as the alcohol did its work. Spike and Celeste did most of the talking; but Vicky paced her contributions matching Bob's level of involvement and made sure that they interacted as a quartet and not two separate couples. She surprised herself by dropping some of her preconceived ideas of Celeste as being a bit of a diva; Celeste was what she was: beautiful, confident, and fiercely loyal to the people she liked. Vicky hoped she would stay with Celeste for the rest of her traineeship; she could see a rewarding friendship blooming with the older woman ... just so long as she was careful to never get caught describing the beautiful thirty-year-old as "the older woman."   "So Celeste," Spike steered the conversation back to what was clearly most interesting to him. "What's the dream?" "What do you mean?" she asked, sipping her drink and watching him with amused eyes over the rim of her glass. "Where to from here?" he explained. "Stay in the skies? Go into training full-time? Management? ... You know; the dream?" "Paris to New York route, First Class cabin," she replied without hesitation. "Really?" Spike asked, clearly surprised. "Hell yes! It's the number one job in the industry. The perks are incredible; you can live like royalty!" "I thought First Class was just Business Class with blow-jobs," he said smirking, clearly trying to get a rise out of her and feeling comfortable enough to introduce the topic of sex. "Oh, that's just a myth," she dismissed him with a wave of one perfectly manicured hand. "We do blow jobs in business class too; they're just not included in the ticket price." Spike had his own drink to his mouth at that moment and ended up spraying it out his nose in laughter, which rapidly morphed into a coughing fit as he tried to expel the champagne from his lungs. The others all laughed too; at Celeste's lightning comeback and at Spike's bruised karma. "I think I must have missed that day at the academy," Vicky giggled, feeling emboldened after a few glasses of alcohol. "Do they run make-up courses?" "Well you laugh," Celeste said, smiling and waggling a finger at Vicky. "But as we speak there is a mock Boeing 777 training cabin set up next door in the conference suites of our hotel. It's part of the '100 Years in Civil Aviation' celebration. "I was in there this afternoon donating my old rookie uniform to the cause. Tourists come in, dress up like captains or cabin crew and try out the ... wait for it ... First Class suites!" Vicky's eyes widened with alarm as she mentally translated what Celeste was saying in the context of her own joke about missed training. At the same time a thrill of excitement coursed through her core, making her vagina tingle and her nipples harden. She discretely leaned forwards against the table so that she could cover her breasts with a forearm, embarrassed that the others would see her arousal. "So ...," Spike leaned back, smiling as he turned half towards Celeste. "Yes?" She mirrored his movements with a mischievous smirk. "So there's a first class cabin ...," he continued. "Uh huh." "With those big, lay-back seats?" "Huge ones! With TVs and privacy partitions." "Here in Coffs?" "Right next door." "And they let you in there?" "They scanned my keycard so I wouldn't have to pay the entry fee," Celeste was clearly enjoying herself. "I can go back whenever I want." "Interesting," Spike said, sitting up straight again and facing Bob across the table. "I need another drink. Bob? It's your shout my fine new friend." Bob went to the bar as directed and returned with a new bottle of champagne. As he was about to sit down, the music changed: Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers. The video clip on the TV was of course the sexually charged scene from Ghost with Demi Moore and Patrick Swayze. There was a chorus of groans from around the room and one wit yelled "Hey, do you want some crackers with all that cheese?" Cheesy music or not: "Oh, I love this song," cried Vicky, jumping up from the booth and grabbing Bob. I think you mean 'This song makes me horny', she silently chided herself. In point of fact she was already horny, and The Righteous Brothers weren't doing anything to improve the situation. What she really needed was to get naked and alone with Bob, but failing that she would see if she could douse the fire inside whilst clothed and in public. "I want to dance!" she commanded, taking Bob's hand and striding to the empty dance floor. "But I can't dance!" cried Bob, surprised into such a candid admission; yet still he followed Vicky, such was her force of will. As she reached the middle of the floor with Bob still an arm's length behind her, Vicky pulled back hard and pirouetted twice, sundress flaring out and flashing her plain cotton panties to the polite applause of a few guys fortunate enough to be watching. She stopped herself against Bob, pressing into his body from her breasts down to her knees. Bob took her in his arms and with hips swinging slowly in time with the music, they moved together as one; Vicky's hands sliding up Bob's sides, over his shoulders and through his hair; mirroring Demi's sensuous crafting of the turning clay on the TV screen. She could feel him hardening against her pubic bone and silently wished herself taller so that she could press him against the aching lips of her pussy. Figuring that a nice chaste kiss would look pretty normal, she replayed her greeting from earlier in the evening and stood up on tip-toes to kiss him briefly with soft, gentle lips before slowly lowering herself back down, taking care to position herself above the hard bulge in his shorts, slowly lowering her weight onto it and using the pressure to open herself up beneath the thin cotton sheath of her underwear. Her continued descent forced her to slide inevitably down and over his cock and a lightning bolt of sensation crashed through her groin as her panties scraped mercilessly across her unprepared clitoris. It was raw and unexpected but - unlike when a guy pinged her down there before she had gotten warmed up – it was warm and welcome and exciting as it fizzed through her nerve endings. Vicky gasped with the intensity of it and before she could think about what she was doing she was back up on her toes and kissing Bob harder, biting at his lower lip and moaning encouragement when his tongue met hers. She ground her pussy into his cock to open herself back up and then pressed deeply into him, touching and teasing more of those lightning bolts from her clitoris with his straining cock while she kissed and whimpered into his soft lips. Bob broke the kiss with a gasp and "Vicky, no! I'm going to ...." She realised she was dry humping him (actually sweetie, not that dry, and it almost got a lot wetter) with what was now about a hundred eyes watching. Unable to control the grinding of her hips, in desperation she turned around so that it was her bottom touching Bob's hardness. Already embarrassed, still she desperately hoped that her wetness hadn't had time to soak though her panties and leave a stain on the front of her dress. Tipping her head backwards to rest it on Bob's shoulder, Vicky reached up and buried her hands in his hair, feeling the thick locks running between her fingers like Demi's wet clay in the music video, which was now reaching its crescendo. Bob folded his arms around her and laced his fingers over her flat belly just above the pubic bone and Vicky longed to sink down so that his long fingers would close over her breasts. While she leaned back against his shoulder, Bob lowered his head and closed his lips around the sensitive tip of her ear, touching it with the tip of his tongue and making her shiver with passion. As the music faded incongruously into Lipps Inc.'s Funky Town, a crowd of cheering onlookers burst in spontaneous applause which then – led by Spike, who was whistling loudly through his fingers – progressed to a standing ovation. By unspoken mutual agreement, Bob and Vicky abandoned the lights of the dance floor and made for a couple of stools in the darkest corner of the bar. Vicky discretely checked the front of her dress and although badly creased it was otherwise dry and unmarked. She looked up to find Bob watching her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat and trying not to smile. "Sorry about that," she said, wide eyed and more than a little abashed, then they both burst into laughter, holding each other to stop from falling off their stools. When Bob was a little less uncomfortable they made their way back to their booth, the guys they passed clapping Bob on the shoulder with smiles and Atta Boys, while the girls looked jealously at Vicky. Celeste and Spike good-naturedly showered them with laughter and cat calls and pieces of paper torn up into confetti. "Twenty-three 'likes' already!," Celeste exclaimed gleefully, holding up her phone with a picture of them kissing, Vicky on her toes with hands plunged deeply into Bob's hair, looking almost incandescent with the lights reflecting radiantly off her dress. "You guys are going to be celebrities," she continued. "Perhaps we should get out here before your fans start calling for an encore." "Fine by me," said Spike, and by unspoken agreement they all got up to leave. "The night's still young, though. Where are you taking us next?" "Somewhere close," smiled Celeste as she discretely tucked the half-full bottle of champagne into her bag. Best On Board 02: First Class "Too much?" she asked. "No. I mean yes; I don't know," Vicky said distractedly. "Don't you think they're a bit ..." "A bit what? Gorgeous?" "A bit ... well ... short?" Celeste looked down at the hem-lines which just barely covered their bottoms. "Well they are mini-dresses," Celeste rationalised. "And the sixties were pretty racy." "Are you sure they're real?" "Of course they're real," Celeste curled an admonishing eyebrow. "You're wearing one, aren't you?" "No. Are they real airline uniforms?" Vicky explained. "They're not ... like ... porno fantasy costumes or something." Celeste snorted laughter. "Oh, they're real, all right. I even met the lady who donated them. Seventy years if she was a day." "Eeeeew! I didn't need that visual." "Well she wasn't wearing one of them!" Celeste retorted, laughing. "In fact she looked very elegant and modest for a senior citizen. But, man, she must have rocked it in her day." Celeste adjusted the lapels until her nipples were hidden again. Vicky still looked uncertain. "Maybe they're supposed to be jackets," she suggested, brightening. "Are there any matching skirts back there?" She turned and eyed the racks of airline livery. "Oh, stop being such a princess," Celeste teased. "They're plenty long enough. Now put your hat on; the boys will be getting restless." They had left Spike and Bob out in the anteroom and Vicky thought they were probably discussing in hushed tones what might be about to happen. She herself wasn't sure what Celeste had planned until she saw the uniform; but now it was pretty clear. At least half of her concern and reluctance was that she didn't want to lose Bob to the beautiful redhead. Vicky compared the two reflections in the mirror and found herself envious of Celeste's fuller breasts, flashing green eyes and cascades of long, glossy, auburn hair. At that moment she had her arms up and was winding those flaming locks into a tidy bun so that she could pin on the little stewardess's pillbox hat, when a flash of pink lower down caught Vicky's eye. "Your knickers are showing below your 'plenty-long-enough-mini-dress'," she pointed to the reflection with a giggle. The gauzy gusset of Celeste's panties was peeking out from beneath the hem. She finished pinning on her hat and lowered her arms, but the mini-dress stayed up where it was. "Oh my goodness," said Celeste with an amused grin, pulling down at the hem. "How did they ever load the overhead lockers in these things? They must have gotten groped six ways from Sunday." "Maybe they wore tights?" Vicky guessed. "Or maybe they were just shorter than us?" She experimentally lifted her arms to tie her own hair and was not surprised to see her own simple bikini briefs appear beneath the mini-dress. Her serious eyes met Celeste's in the mirror and to make a joke of it she did a sexy pout and snaked her body back and forth, running her hands through her hair and twisting her hips. The mini-dress rode higher still, exposing not just the gusset but the whole leg, all the way round to her hip. Celeste copied, lifting her arms, provocatively grinding her hips and blowing kisses at the mirror until she too was flashing three of four inches of underwear and both of them were giggling uproariously. Vicky noticed with an unfamiliar thrill the way the sheer nylon of Celeste's panties clung to the smooth curves of her outer labia. She could see a tiny thatch of auburn pubic hair through the translucent fabric and realised jealously that Celeste was almost completely shaved. Unbidden, an image popped into her head: Celeste's pussy open and wet, poised over Vicky's face as she ran her tongue over those soft, flawless lips; feeling their smoothness as she inhaled the sweet musk of Celeste's sex; and then kissing her there, tasting that sweetness on her tongue, straining and probing deeper into the heat of her womanhood to find the wellspring of that perfumed nectar. Licking her lips guiltily, Vicky realised she had no idea how long she had been staring at Celeste's pussy. She looked up and saw the beautiful redhead watching her with an amused look. "You're right," she said. "These things are too short. We can't be flashing our panties at the guys." With that, she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her long legs and off over the heels she had picked out for the costume. "Well, that's better," she said matter-o-factly, both girls looking at the milky smooth lips of her pussy in the mirror as her dress stayed bunched up at her hips. "You can't see them at all now." Vicky's heart was pounding. The idea of kissing a girl had never disgusted her, but even though she had thought about it several times, she hadn't really considered herself interested in the idea. Until now, that is. "Does it hurt?" she asked, looking nervously into Celeste's eyes in the mirror. "Does what hurt?" "You know ... shaving ... down there." "Only if you get it wrong," laughed Celeste. "Actually, I wax; but the principle's the same. It's awkward and easy to make a mess of it. Much better to get someone else to do it." "Oh, I could never do that," Vicky's eyes flashed nervously as she shook her head. "Nonsense," said Celeste. "It's nothing compared to what you let your gyno do. And it's so worth it." "Worth it?" "Hell yes. Guys can't go down on you quick enough!" she laughed; her whole face lighting up. "You let them get a hand in your panties and then watch the look on their face when their fingers slide over smooth, bare skin. They practically start drooling to get their tongue into you. And it's not just lick, suck, let's fuck: they stay down until you're coming like an early Christmas." Vicky blushed at the mental picture inspired by her friend's profanity, still staring at her pussy in the reflection Celeste turned to face her. "Close your eyes," she said quietly. "What are you going to do?" Vicky asked nervously. "I'm almost naked and I'm feeling modest. So just shut them, OK?" Vicky closed her eyes and then felt Celeste gently take her left hand and cup it to her pussy. She gasped in surprise, but didn't pull back. She could feel the little crop of hair against the heel of her palm but everywhere else – all the way down to the tip of her middle finger somewhere near Celeste's anus – was completely, utterly smooth. With her own hand cupped over Vicky's, Celeste slowly stroked up and down, Vicky's fingers slid with frictionless ease over the soft, hairless flesh until she felt her friend's juices welling onto to her fingertips. "Now imagine you're a guy," Celeste said softly. "Imagine how that feels against your lips and your tongue." "Mmmmm. I can imagine it," said Vicky, her voice catching as she struggled to control her breathing. And then, summoning up every shred of courage she could muster: "But I'm not imagining I'm a guy." In lieu of a response, Celeste continued stroking herself with Vicky's hand, but applied the tiniest pressure over her middle finger. Vicky needed no further encouragement; she doubled the minute pressure and Celeste's swollen lips opened like a flower, instantly coating the length of Vicky's finger in her lubricating juices as it ploughed between the soft, hot folds of her womanhood. "Wait," Celeste breathed as Vicky tried to go deeper. "Let me shave you first; the boys aren't going anywhere." Vicky opened her eyes. Too nervous to speak, she bit her lower lip and nodded. "Great, give me a moment." Celeste was all business again and transformed into a whirlwind of movement and grace that Vicky had already witnessed a couple of times. From her bag she pulled a foil sachet of sex lube, a miniature manicure kit containing a tiny pair of nail scissors, and - most improbably - a disposable razor. "Girl Scout," Celeste explained as Vicky looked with surprise at the little collection. Taking control, she pushed Vicky back onto the settee; pulled her bottom forward right to edge and stripped off her cotton panties in one swift movement. With Celeste kneeling in front of her, Vicky had a moment of second thought, holding her knees tightly together as Celeste placed her hands between the her thighs, smiling and nodding encouragement as she applied pressure to draw them apart. Her last reserves of resistance melting away, Vicky relaxed her thighs and allowed them to be opened wide, exposing the throbbing, swollen lips of her sex. "Oh, this is not so bad," said Celeste gently as she combed the soft brown curls around Vicky's mons with her fingers and stroked over the wisps covering her outer labia. Quickly and deftly, she snipped away the longer hair with the nail scissors and then smeared lube over the remaining stubble, massaging it thoroughly to coat the base of each hair and making Vicky gasp with pleasure. Working with long smooth strokes of the razor, she shaped a small triangle of hair about half an inch above the top of Vicky's slit and then shaved the rest clean. As she shaved down Vicky's swollen labia, she worked a finger into her soaking pussy so that she could pull back the lips to reach the hairs on the most sensitive inner edges. As she wiped away the residue of lube and shaven hair, Celeste unconsciously put her finger in her mouth to lick off the juices that had been running freely from Vicky and coating her hand. "Oh my God," she breathed, her green eyes widening in shock and pleasure as she licked down to the knuckle and around the webbing. "You taste like ... something ... pomegranates! It's pomegranates!" "What!?" "Oh, Christ, that is divine," she plunged her middle finger back through Vicky's slit, eliciting a surprised shriek from the younger woman, and then did the same with her own pussy on the index finger. "Here!" she said, offering them both to Vicky lips. "Taste!" "No!" Vicky cried in shock, but with more than a little curiosity. "What?" Celeste looked surprised herself. "Have you seriously never tasted yourself?" "No!" Vicky affirmed, eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Never!" She held up a hand to reject the proffered taste-test. "Well stop being a baby," she admonished. "Go on! You'll thank me." Curiosity overwhelmed embarrassment and Vicky held the redhead's hand up to her mouth. She could smell the musky aroma of sex on her fingers and felt a delicious shiver of anticipation coursing through her body. Closing her lips around the middle finger, she tasted herself first; heady and rich and nothing at all like anchovies – which she hated – and which popular opinion told her was how it was supposed to taste. She supposed that she could taste pomegranates ... maybe. Sucking the last of her own scent from Celeste's middle finger, she withdrew it with a small pop and held the index finder before her mouth. "C'mon, it's not as nice as you," encouraged Celeste. "But it won't poison you." Her heartbeat pounding in her ears like jungle drums, Vicky could feel more of her own juices welling and coating her hairless pussy lips. With a shuddering breath, she opened up to taste her new friend's sex, and closed her eyes as she placed just the fingertip on her tongue, prolonging the anticipation. With that single taste she was sold. She folded her lips and tongue around Celeste's finger with a low, animal moan; never in her life had she tasted anything so raw, primal and sexy. Gently sucking and swirling her tongue over her friend's finger, she tasted salt and honeysuckle and extra virgin olive oil and something else that she couldn't identify, but which sang in her mouth and made her nipples tingle and her clitoris buzz. If she had to give it a name, she would say it was the taste of sex; not the taste of having sex, or the sweet afterglow of sex; but of sex yet to come; a potential future as yet unfulfilled. It was fresh and ripe and potent and strangely virginal. "Oh God," Vicky breathed, "That's what I want." "Are you sure you want to keep the boys waiting?" Celeste asked, taking Vicky's hand and helping her stand up. "What boys?" Vicky breathed. A wave of passion that had been building inside her finally crested and broke, washing away the last of her reticence. Still holding Celeste's hand, she drew the redhead closer, lifting her chin and parting her lips to signal her intent. Celeste tilted her head to the side and met Vicky's kiss; her lips small and moist and supple and unlike any man Vicky had kissed. Vicky's nerve endings celebrated the new sensation of kissing a woman. She closed her eyes and allowed her hands to chart the foreign territory of Celeste's body; her muscle-memory – so used to a man's physique – told her that this was all wrong, but her hard nipples and soaking pussy lips sang with the news that it was not just right; it was wonderfully, breathtakingly right. She moulded her fingers over Celeste's neat, round bottom and traced into her tiny, tight waist. She could feel the redhead's full, firm breasts pressing against her own through their uniforms, but it wasn't enough – she needed the feeling of skin on skin. Panting and kissing with mounting vigour, Vicky whispered "Please" as she began unbuttoning Celeste's uniform and "Yes, God, yes" when the older woman responded in turn. Unbuttoned from neck to hem, the mini-dresses hung like coats; Vicky pulled the lapels open to gorge herself on Celeste's naked perfection. Tentatively at first, she touched her body to Celeste's, relishing the hard points of her nipples as every movement traced tiny arcs and swirls of erotic sensation on the sensitive undersides of her own breasts. As their bellies touched, Vicky stopped breathing and focussed all of her attention on her pussy; shaved and open and soaking wet and now just a few millimetres from the moist, pink folds of Celeste's. Vicky felt the slightest brush of friction as their tiny patches of pubic hair met – so close now – it may have been imagination, but she thought she could feel the heat radiating from Celeste's molten core. And then their lips touched. Instinctively, both women arched upwards to make contact at the steaming centre of their sex. Whimpering with passion and desperation, Vicky moved from the hips, brushing her engorged inner folds against Celeste's, feeling the wetness transfer both ways and coat their smooth outer lips with a mixture of their naturally perfumed lubrication. Unable to resist any longer, Vicky grasped Celeste's naked bottom in both hands and ground their pussies together, opening herself up and scissoring Celeste's smooth lips into her own. Wonderful barrages of ecstasy exploded through her womanhood as Celeste touched down on her clitoris, and she rejoiced at the redhead's soft cries in her ear that told her she was doing the same. "Let me do you," she breathed in Celeste's ear, reluctantly breaking the contact on her pussy, which was screaming for the sweet release of orgasm. She began kissing down Celeste's body; her neck, the points of her clavicle and the tops of her breasts before Celeste stopped her, drawing her back. "No," she whispered. "We'll do it together." She turned Vicky around and held her from behind, one arm crossed over her flat stomach to gently cup one of her small breasts; the other reaching down to close over her sex, the tip of her middle finger nestled in the brunette's entrance as she kissed the hollow of her neck. Celeste lowered them both to the floor and supported Vicky from behind as she lay on her back, folding back the lapels of her open dress like a blanket, her tanned and naked form laid out like a golden buffet for Celeste to feast upon. Vicky looked up into the face of her friend; the beautiful female face that a few breathless moments from now would be the first woman to taste her, to take her, to enter her and – she knew this like she knew her own name – to drive her to an orgasm so intense she would never feel its equal from penetrative sex. Instinctively she drew her knees up to angle her pussy towards Celeste and with the flexibility of a gymnast parted them so that they were almost flat on the floor. Now pointing straight up, the soft open cup of her entrance began to pool with her juices. Glistening with moisture at first, it was soon slick with her juices and by the time Celeste had kissed from Vicky's breathless lips to her small breasts – pausing to tease and suck the nipples and to offer her own full breasts to Vicky's eager lips – it was brimming with the sweet nectar of Vicky's sex. As Celeste moved down over Vicky's young body, the brunette craned her neck up to kiss and trace the lines of her stomach and feel the muscles flutter nervously beneath her soft lips. She watched entranced as Celeste's glistening opening passed over her eyes, her intoxicating scent filling Vicky's senses; and then stopped, open and ready an inch above the younger woman's breathless lips. There was a frozen moment of time when nothing happened, as if both women were waiting for a signal to begin, and then just as Vicky opened her mouth to kiss Celeste's pussy, she felt the tip of the other woman's tongue tracing over her smooth lips. Vicky followed her movements, working down one side, tasting her own smeared scent alongside the more potent, intoxicating perfume almost dripping from Celeste's molten core. The exquisite, smooth softness of Celeste's pussy was unlike anything Vicky had imagined; it was unlike anything she could have imagined. Her limited experience with oral sex extended to a few pleasant but nervous episodes of cock sucking, where she was more concerned about the boy taking liberties and choking her than she was with delivering finely controlled pleasure to her partner. With a man, she wasn't exactly sure what she should be doing; apart from the one universal 'no teeth' rule, they seemed to like pretty much everything. But this? This! This was indescribably different! Not that she was going lesbo any time soon, but pleasuring a pussy with a cock was like peeling an apple with a chainsaw. And better, she knew exactly what to do because Celeste was copying her; everything she did to Celeste, she felt the result in her own pussy in real time. Licking, sucking, kissing, probing, hard and soft, slow and fast; it was like the most perfect shopping experience where you could try on ten different pairs of shoes at once to see which one looks best ... and better ... which one feels best. Gaining confidence, Vicky became more adventurous and moved from the wonderful softness of Celeste's smooth pussy lips into her glistening, hot slit, where that intoxicating sexual perfume was strongest. Starting with gentle probes above and to the side of Celeste's clitoris, she teased with soft, gentle strokes; working back and forth in slow arcs and establishing a rhythm with which Celeste quickly synchronised. In a surreal moment of transcendence, so perfectly timed was Celeste's feedback that Vicky felt as though she was licking her own pussy. Far from revolting her (which would have been her natural reaction), it felt overwhelmingly erotic and sent her heart racing even faster. As much as she normally loathed direct stimulation of her clitoris, in her breathless passion she grazed her tongue lightly over Celeste's hard love-button, eliciting a muffled shriek of excitement from the redhead quickly followed by a reciprocal stroke over her own clitoris. She expected a profound sensation and boy did she get it. But far from the normal sobering shock – like being pinched or doused with cold water – Celeste's tongue revved her like a race-tuned engine on the starting grid; raucous, animal and powerful but smooth and emotive at the same time. With sparks of pleasure firing and lighting up her core, Vicky's excitement stepped up to a new level and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm tingling in her thighs and the base of her stomach. Best On Board 02: First Class Arching her back and giving voice to gasping cries of pleasure so that Celeste would know that she was close to coming, Vicky redoubled her efforts on the older woman's pussy, hoping that they would climax together. Hardening the web of muscles in her tongue, she probed into Celeste's tight opening, maintaining contact on her clitoris with her lower lip as she strained to go deeper. Feeling Celeste's thigh muscles bunch against her ears, Vicky realised that the redhead was at least as close to coming as herself. She almost had time to worry about being left behind when she felt Celeste close her lips over her sensitive entrance and she was forced open by the pointed tip of her probing tongue. The casual, ambling approach of her own orgasm became a full, frenzied gallop as Celeste drove her tongue into Vicky's sex; the thick base stretching her wide open while the tip probed and danced, pressing and exploring – seemingly in every direction at once – in a way that a cock never could. Vicky shrieked with passion and genuine surprise as the orgasm crashed through her; at one moment just a contraction in her core and then a light-speed explosion, igniting every nerve ending in her body in a blinding flash of pure ecstasy. Like fireworks, as the last embers of one sky-burst began to fade, another one – with different shape, colour and intensity – would tear through her again, contracting her muscles and arching her pussy into Celeste's merciless tongue. Unconsciously copying her actions, Vicky dove deeply into Celeste's sweet centre, marvelling at the exquisite pressure of the redhead's tight canal pressing back against her insistent tongue as for the first time she truly began to appreciate the unique ecstasy that a guy experiences driving his cock into the heavenly, silken embrace of a tight pussy. As her own orgasm began to abate, Vicky felt Celeste's pussy convulse and her hips rock downwards, encouraging Vicky to thrust deeper even though her tongue was being squeezed out by Celeste's powerful contractions. When finally both women were completely spent, Celeste kissed the last of Vicky's juices from her freshly shaven lips before turning around to embrace the younger woman, their breasts pressed together as they whispered breathless gratitude into each other's ears. After a minute of quiet kissing, Vicky realised that Bob and Spike were still waiting outside and would be getting impatient. Disentangling from each other, both women got up and began putting themselves to rights; buttoning their dresses and touching up makeup as they stole knowing glances at each other in the mirror. Feeling a bit woozy, Vicky wound her hair into a bun and pinned on her pillbox hat. Pulling at her ludicrously short hem, she looked at her beautiful companion standing beside her in the mirror. Was she really afraid of Bob falling for her? Maybe Bob should be the one to be worried. She wondered what would happen next. Whatever it was, they were ready. ~~~ "Passengers and crew travelling to Coffs Harbour on flight BJ69, your flight is now ready for boarding. Passengers with special needs and those travelling First Class, please identify yourselves to crew members for priority boarding." Celeste's voice over the PA system was unmistakable. Spike looked at Bob sitting opposite him in the anteroom. "BJ69," Spike laughed, shaking his head slowly. "See? I told you this would be worth the wait." Bob had been increasingly concerned that something was wrong as the ten minute wait stretched to twenty minutes and then almost half an hour. Spike reasoned to the contrary: a longer wait was good news because the girls were making more thorough preparations. As they waited, Bob had finally come clean and told the whole story about his flight from Sydney; how Celeste had conspired to spill water on him, feel him up and then herd him into the tiny airplane bathroom with Vicky where he had lost his virginity. Well Bob, you didn't exactly reveal that bit, but hey, it's not like you're under oath, right? This revelation gave Spike even more encouragement. Celeste was clearly a master game-player, he reasoned; and they were in for a fun night, providing they played along and gave her every opportunity to execute her plan. As they stood up, a door on the other side of the room opened, seemingly on its own. Bob and Spike went to investigate, but there was nobody there, just a corridor decorated to look like and air-bridge. They followed the corridor and turned the corner revealing another short passage way and what looked very convincingly like a bridge into an aircraft cabin. Both girls were inside the cabin, smiling and standing with hands clasped in front of their tiny, navy blue mini-dresses. Bob thought Vicky looked nervous; he could see that her cheeks were flushed and her breasts – tightly bound beneath the gold buttons of her uniform – heaved with her rapid breathing. He stopped momentarily to admire the long curves of her legs, propped up on high heels to lend shape to her tight calves and small, round bottom; he could see so much of her long, slim thighs that he could scarcely believe that her panties were not visible beneath the mini-dress. "Keep walking, mate," Spike breathed from behind him. "You're part of the show now, so play your part." Bob walked onto the bridge and then stepped into the cabin. "Welcome aboard, sir," Vicky stepped forward, embraced him and kissed him deeply on the lips. Bob responded, parting his own lips and meeting her tongue with his, detecting a foreign but not unpleasant taste on her lips that was not the champagne they had been drinking. Lip gloss? He didn't think so. "May I take your coat, sir," Vicky husked, breaking the kiss but continuing to stand with her breasts pressed into his chest and one hand on his bottom. "Uhhh? I'm not wearing a ...," Bob began before he felt a poke in his back from Spike. "Oh, I mean, of course. Thank you, miss." Vicky unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his shoulders, taking the opportunity to run her hands over his bare chest and back as she did so. With the shirt off, she kissed him softly on the lips again and said "Come with me, please. You're in 1B; I'll show you to your seat." They stepped past Celeste with a smile and the front row of First Class seats was right there. As Bob sat down, Vicky stepped slightly in front of him and reached up to open the overhead locker, where she stowed Bob's shirt. She felt a little tingle of excitement when she heard Bob whisper "Oh my goodness" as he spied her freshly shaved pussy peeking out from beneath the mini-dress. Hurriedly she pulled down the hem, blushing as she realised that Spike could see her bare bottom from behind. Spike stepped forward, smiling and clearly ready for the same treatment that Bob had received. "Welcome aboard, Sir," Celeste said primly. "Are you carrying any metallic items, knives, batteries, explosives, or weapons of any kind?" "No ma'am," said Spike. He smiled even wider realising the script had changed for him. "Hold up your arms, please Sir," Celeste said; she wasn't smiling any more. Spike did as he was told and Celeste stepped closer, close enough to kiss him if she wanted, and began to slowly frisk his upper body. She moulded her palms around his powerful pectoral muscles, slid them up and over his sloping trapezoids, over his biceps and then underneath his arms, testing his latissimus dorsi with her fingertips and finding them bulging from constant use paddling through the surf. Finally she moved half a step closer so that her full breasts touched his chest as she reached around to feel his back. Stepping back, she said "Sir, please remove your shirt." Spike was still smiling. "Do you always profile skegs as potential terrorists?" "Skegs?" Celeste smiled. "Yeah, you know: surfers," he said. "We're really not that dangerous." "Your shirt, Sir," she said sternly. "Please don't make me ask a third time." Vicky sat in Bob's lap, curled on her side with her head on his shoulder while they both watched Celeste with amusement. Spike unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. He held his hands out to sides as if to say 'What next?' "Stand with your legs apart and your arms out, please Sir." As Spike did so, Celeste took her phone and began to pass it over is arms and chest, pretending it was a scanner of some kind. She knelt down and repeated the process up and down his legs, touching the standby button as she passed over his groin, making the phone light up and buzz with a small audible vibration. "Are you carrying any keys or change in your pants, Sir?" "No, ma'am," Spike replied, trying to keep a straight face. "Remove your pants please, Sir." Spike slipped off his shoes and pants, and then resumed his spreadeagled position wearing only his boxers. Celeste passed the phone over his groin and pressed standby again to light it up. "Sir, are you carrying a weapon in there?" "Yes ma'am. I am," smiled Spike. "As an Air Marshall I am licensed to do so." "Really?" Celeste trilled, clearly amused, her smile showing through momentarily as she tried to resume her part. "An Air Marshall?" "That's right ma'am. However I left my license in my other pants." "Well is your weapon loaded, Air Marshall?" she asked, smirking a little bit but unable to help herself. "I don't recall, ma'am," Spike replied, his arms still held out to the sides. "But you're welcome to check." Smiling as if this was the invitation she had been angling for, Celeste dropped the stern attitude again and stepped close to Spike, biting her lower lip in anticipation. Holding her right palm to his muscular stomach, she slipped her fingertips beneath the waistband of his shorts and stopped momentarily, as if giving him an opportunity to back out. Spike merely held her gaze and smiled back. Celeste didn't hesitate any longer; Bob watched as she delved lower, a big grin started to spread across her face and then stopped. "Oh, Jesus Christ," she breathed, her grin melted into a wide "O" of shock and her eyes bulged as she stared at Spike. Celeste took a moment during which Bob could hear her breathing heavily and then "I'm sorry to have detained you, Sir," she whispered, removing her hand from Spike's shorts. "You may ...," she stopped to clear her throat. "We're glad to have you on board. You may keep that on the aircraft," she continued and then, catching his eye meaningfully and placing a hand on his chest. "But please be very careful if you need to use that thing," she swallowed hard. "I wouldn't want anyone to get hurt." "Careful is my middle name," Spike smiled. Collecting his clothes, Celeste led Spike to seat 1A across the aisle from Bob and repeated Vicky's act of stowing his clothes overhead. Never to be outdone, she stood very close to Spike and gave her bottom a wiggle to make the mini-dress ride a bit higher. Barely half a metre from Bob's face, Celeste's legs were slightly apart and he could see moist pink folds of her opening between the soft curves of her smooth labia. He felt a moment of confused lust: part of him – the testosterone-fuelled animal part – wanted to tear off his pants and plunge his cock into the silky depths of Celeste's pussy; another part - and this part was not just sexual, but transcended sex - was drawn instead to Vicky in a way that he didn't completely understand. Vicky caught him looking and Bob thought he saw a flash of jealousy in her expression, however a moment later she smiled and winked at him before walking off to the front of the cabin with Celeste following, swaying her hips provocatively and tugging at her hem back down to cover her bottom. Bob and Spike exchanged excited glances. Spike – wearing just his boxer shorts - pointed at Bob's pants and made a "lose them" gesture with his thumb. Bob judged this to be sound advice and quickly removed them so that he was now dressed only in a pair of lycra trunks. Bob heard some muted giggles from the front and moment later Vicky came out and passed them each a glass of champagne; presumably from the bottle Celeste sneaked out of the pub. "Compliments of the house, gentlemen," she said, and then turned on her heel and walked back behind the bulkhead at the front. "Good evening passengers," Celeste's voice came over the PA system again. "Pre-flight service has now commenced in the First Class cabin while the rest of the passengers are boarding. We hope you enjoy our complimentary service. If you require any further champagne, hors-d'oeurves, or blow jobs prior to take-off, please press your call button." Spike and Bob looked at each other in a perfect mirror image of shocked surprise. "Did she say...?" Bob began. Spike just hit his call button. Celeste appeared with a huge smile and the almost empty bottle. "More champagne, Sir?" ~~~ Bob hadn't pressed his call button, but Vicky came out behind Celeste anyway, figuring that it would be way too awkward to leave Bob alone while Celeste and Spike fucked beside him. Vicky was suffering mixed emotions; she wanted Bob all to herself, but she also felt guilty for the sex she had shared with Celeste. Which is crazy! She reasoned to herself. It's not like Bob and I are exclusive. Heck, we only met today. And I wasn't even with another guy!   She pulled the privacy curtain around Bob's First Class suite, reclined his seat and then lay down with him, tucked sideways into the gap between his body and the arm-rest with her head resting on his shoulder. Bob had removed his glasses again and she was glad that he wouldn't be able to see the mixed emotions on her face; she just held him and let her mind go, free-associating about their wonderful sex that afternoon where she experienced her first orgasm, their dancing at the pub, and then back to Celeste; the fresh taste of her sex, the tight embrace of her pussy around her tongue, and the explosive orgasm that followed. Withdrawing deep into her own thoughts, Vicky didn't even notice her own eyes drooping closed. With wet sounds of lust being sated filtering though the screen from across the aisle, her last conscious thought before she fell asleep was that there existed a perfect solution to her problem; one where she wouldn't have to choose between Bob and Celeste, and one where she wouldn't need to feel as though she was cheating on Bob. Mum always said it was good manners to share. Vicky smiled in her sleep. ~~~ Vicky awoke to relative silence in the cabin; the only sound she could hear was Bob's deep breathing beside her – obviously he had dropped off to sleep as well. Her internal clock told her that she hadn't been asleep for long; she could still feel the buzz of alcohol in her system and her pussy – despite coming twice already today – ached once again with the need for sexual release. As she began to move, she realised that her hand was resting on Bob's groin; his cock hard and hot and straining beneath his lycra shorts. Panty-less herself, she briefly flirted with the idea of simply impaling herself on his shaft – a delicious throb coursed through her pussy as if in complete agreement with this idea – but the side of her face felt hot from sleeping on his shoulder and she didn't want Bob to wake and see the likely train-wreck of her make-up. A quick touch-up was in order and she thought that if she was careful standing up then she could get out and back without waking him. She wondered why she couldn't hear Celeste and Spike and figured that they must have finished fucking. She felt a little pang of jealousy but ignored it and concentrated on getting herself tidied up and back into Bob's arms. Levering herself carefully out of the reclined First Class seat, she pulled down her uniform from where it had bunched up at her hips and took a moment to touch herself, feeling the wonderful smoothness of her freshly shaved labia, now hot and engorged again from the sweet and sexy dreams that followed her last waking thoughts. She pulled back the privacy curtain and was surprised to see Celeste in the seat opposite, alone and half reclined, still in her uniform and sipping a glass of champagne. Far from being hot and sweaty from her sexual exertions, she was still inexplicably immaculate; her makeup perfect and red hair still tucked neatly up beneath the pillbox hat. Vicky put a finger to her lips so that Celeste wouldn't wake Bob and beckoned her down to the front of the cabin to talk quietly. "Where's Spike?" she whispered. "Gone," she said. "We peeked in at you guys when we were done and you were both asleep, so I told him to grab a cab and I would clean up and get you guys back to our hotel room." "Oh," Vicky said uncertainly. This was kind of good news; she wasn't adventurous enough for an orgy, and it seemed like such good fortune that she was now alone with Bob and Celeste ... but the thought of Celeste's pussy – stretched and spent from her sex with Spike – wasn't very appealing. "Soooo," Vicky thought out loud. "Do we ...? What do you ...?" She didn't know how to do this. "How was it with Spike?" Holy crap! Where did that come from? "It wasn't," Celeste replied candidly. "I chickened out." She held up her hand with the thumb and forefinger circled like an OK sign but not touching, suggesting something about the size of a police baton. Vicky realised Celeste was showing her the size of Spike's cock. "No way!" she gasped, eyes boggling at the thought of a shaft that big entering her pussy. "Yes way!" Celested affirmed, giggling at Vicky's reaction. "It was OK at the tip, but it was at least that thick at the base. I'll suck it, but I won't sit on it." "Oh my God!" Vicky shivered, wondering what it would feel like. "You'd walk like a cowboy for a week." "I know," Celeste laughed. "Just give me the hot dog; I don't want the whole bun!" "Mmmm!" Vicky agreed, although she wasn't completely sure that she did agree. "Like Bo-..." she clapped her hand over her mouth, surprising herself with her indiscretion. Maybe it was a Freudian slip; it had just occurred to her that neither of them had had sex yet, and the thought of Celeste's pussy, still fresh and tight and sweet, was sending little tingles of excitement through her groin. She wished she had a cock of her own, imagining how it would feel to nuzzle it up to Celeste's moist, pink entrance and then push slowly inside, gliding effortlessly into that silken heaven as it closed down tightly over the length of her shaft, drawing her deeper until their groins pressed together and the tip of her imaginary cock touched the innermost core of Celeste's womanhood. "Like who, Vick?" Celeste smiled disingenuously. "Ummmm," Vicky stalled. "You forget I've felt his cock," she laughed, referring to the incident she engineered on the flight that afternoon where she spilled water on Bob's crotch and then mopped it up, stroking his erection with her fingertips before giving him over to Vicky to fuck in the airplane bathroom. Suddenly, Vicky realised that what she wanted most of all – assuming she couldn't grow her own cock – was to fuck Celeste with Bob's cock. "Soooo," she began. "If you and Spike didn't ..." "We didn't," Celeste agreed with a grin. "As evidenced by the fact that I'm not turned inside out." Vicky giggled. "Then that means you're ..." "Horny?" Celeste finished helpfully. "Like a rhinoceros!" "So you want ...," Vicky was not having much success finishing sentences. "A three-way?" Celeste clasped her hands between her breasts in mock surprise and happiness. "I thought you'd never ask!" "I don't think I did," Vicky sighed, exasperated but grateful to be spared the awkwardness of asking. Best On Board 02: First Class "So are you going to wake him up?" Celeste whispered, taking Vicky's hand and turning back in to the first class cabin. "Or are we going to fuck him while he's asleep." Vicky stopped; eyes wide and looking at Celeste. A moment too late she realised that the redhead was only joking. "Oh, you minx!" Celeste hissed quietly. "I wasn't serious!" "I know, but ...," Vicky tried to defend herself. "But what guy wouldn't want to wake up like that, right?" The more she considered it, the more it appealed to her. They were back at 1B and Bob was still asleep, his erection straining at the confines of his trunks. Using his sleeping cock to fuck Celeste was even more like using her own; it had a wicked appeal that was stirring the nerve endings in her nipples and making them harden. She looked at Celeste, watching her consider the idea. Celeste regarded the bulge in Bob's shorts with a hungry look that bordered on greed. "Yes?" Vicky asked. "Shit yes," Celeste agreed. "But how are you going to get those off?" she pointed to Bob's trunks, lingering with her eyes longer than was strictly necessary. "Do you still have those scissors?" Vicky asked with a mischievous smile. Celeste's green eyes flashed with excitement at the suggestion and Vicky felt a little thrill that she was able to shock the unflappable Celeste. Dashing back to her bag in the galley, Celeste returned brandishing the tiny nail scissors that she had used earlier to trim Vicky's pubic hair. "Rookie's honour," she said, handing them over with a smile. "Chicken," she muttered, taking them and turning back to Bob's sleeping form. Kneeling down beside the reclined First Class seat, Vicky moved her face close to Bob's, listening to his deep breathing. Reaching down with one hand, she gently stroked his hard shaft through his shorts, seeing whether she could touch him without waking him. Watching enviously, Celeste knelt on the other side and softly cupped his balls, running her fingertips around the smooth lycra to the base of his cock, where she traced the hard contours up to where Vicky hand was gentry stroking. Bob moaned in his sleep and then took a shuddering breath and muttered something incomprehensible. "Shhhh," Vicky whispered in his ear. "It's just a dream. Just a lovely dream." Bob settled again even though Vicky continued stroking his cock. She figured that he was deeply asleep, probably assisted by the alcohol that they had all consumed. She looked across his sleeping form at Celeste who raised her eyebrows as if to say "Well, what are you waiting for" What indeed? Vicky shuffled down beside Bob's shorts and – keeping the palm of her left hand on his cock so that he wouldn't feel a lot of transient contact, she plucked at the lycra beside his balls and – pulling a safe distance from his skin, she began snipping a slit in the fabric straight across the base of his cock. Thinking it would look sexier, she wanted to keep the hole small; just enough for her to release his cock whilst retaining the smooth structural integrity of the shorts. Rather than cutting up to the waistband, she snipped an arc down around his balls and then back up to meet the other side of the cross-ways slit. The result was a mid-sized, smilie-shaped hole centred over the base of his cock. Putting the scissors aside and working with both hands, Vicky reached inside the hole with her fingers and guided it over the tip of his cock. She slid it down the length of his shaft and stretched it around his balls; the final effect of the fabric sitting closely around his cock and balls made them look strangely 'attached' to the outside of his trunks. Vicky still had her hand closed around Bob's cock; Celeste reached out to stroke it and Vicky swatted her away. "Not yet," she whispered. "You'll get your chance." Standing up, Vicky slipped out of her heels and wriggled her mini-dress up her hips to expose her freshly shaved pussy. Working with infinite care, she climbed on top of Bob's chair and – facing his legs – straddled his stomach, settled to her knees and then moved down until the base of his shaft pressed into the silky cleft of her vagina, causing her to gasp as every tiny movement ground wetly against her sensitive clitoris. Standing up straight and hard from her open pussy, the illusion of having her very own cock and balls was almost perfect. Closing her hand around the base of his (her?) shaft, she stroked upwards, pulling the skin like silk sheets over hard steel and deliciously grazing the surface of her clitoris, giving her a shuddering and envious sense of what it might be like to have her own cock to wank. God, guys are so lucky. Still stroking her cock, she looked up at Celeste who was staring back at her with a slack jaw. This role reversal, where she was able to surprise and rock the super-confident, self-assured redhead, was very appealing. "Join me?" she asked. "Fuck yes," she husked, quickly unbuttoning her vintage stewardess mini-dress all the way up the front, releasing her full, firm breasts and the pink folds of her hairless pussy lips. Wanting that full skin contact again, Vicky unbuttoned her own dress and – like Celeste – left it on and open at the front. Celeste climbed carefully onto the reclined chair and straddled Bob's legs, wriggling awkwardly forward to bring her pussy up to Vicky's, with just Bob's cock between them. Nestling in on the other side, she pressed her wet lips against Bob's shaft and they opened effortlessly, closing around the side until they brushed the sensitive tips of Vicky's pussy lips. Leaning forward, Vicky brushed her hard nipples against Celeste's, tracing little circles, teasing the other woman even as she teased herself. Unable to sustain the titillating contact any longer, she closed her arms around Celeste's narrow waist and pulled her into a desperate kiss, crushing their breasts together with nervous flutters of excitement as their flat stomachs made contact above the hard shaft of Bob's cock. Stopping before she lost control, Vicky pulled back to drink in Celeste's naked beauty; the sensuous curves of her narrow waist and full breasts, her flawless, milky skin, red lips and flashing green eyes. Unpinning the little blue pillbox hat, she released Celeste's long auburn hair from the loose bun, allowing it to fall in sparkling cascades around her shoulders and to frame her perfect breasts. Heart pounding, Vicky leaned forward again – slowly this time – and kissed Celeste, feeling those electric sparks fly again as their breasts touched. Her pulse raced as Celeste kissed her back, seeking out her tongue as her hands stole around Vicky's waist and pulled her closer. Holding on tight, Celeste rose up on her knees, bringing Vicky with her as Bob's cock slid through the twin embrace of their pussy lips. Reaching the top, Vicky felt the ridge of his knob graze over her clitoris and stopped, changing direction to slide back down before they lost contact. They rose and fell in a synchronized dance, never losing contact with the hard shaft that dictated their range of movement. On the next upstroke, Vicky rose a little higher when Celeste stopped and the natural curve to Bob's shaft brought the tip to Vicky's soaking entrance, which greedily opened and with a small movement of her hips, Bob was firmly seated in Vicky's opening. "Oh, you didn't just do that!" Celeste breathed, breaking their kiss. "You're just jealous you didn't think of it," Vicky teased, rocking her hips on Bob's cock and working a few inches into her tight love canal. "I did think of it," Celeste protested in a whisper. "But it bends the wrong way and I couldn't get onto it." "In a minute, I promise," Vicky breathed, biting her lower lip as she felt the wonderful heat of Bob inside her again. Still holding Celeste, she lowered herself all the way onto Bob's shaft, feeling it touch down on the innermost depths of her womanhood. Turned around, the sensation was different to that afternoon's sex where Bob's curved member was probing and tickling her G-spot; this was kind of the reverse, she could feel him in an area she more commonly associated with her ass than her pussy, but the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant. Vicky pumped her hips slowly, relishing the texture and contours of Bob's cock as it glided through her parted opening with Celeste's breath in her ear and her breasts pressing into Vicky's own. "Half time, change sides," Celeste whispered urgently. Rising up again to release Bob's shaft, Vicky carefully pushed out her hips to keep him from slipping between her legs and then lowered back down, goose bumps popping up all over her body as his cock – slick with her juices – slid softly over her clitoris. Seated back down on Bob's pelvis with his bulging manhood held steady in her glistening slit, she moved forwards a bit to lower the angle of his cock, pointing it towards the smooth hairless perfection of Celeste's pussy. As Celeste rose to mount Bob, Vicky could see the small pink folds of her entrance; open, wet and ready as they closed softly over the head; and she was swept by a vivid recurrence of how it felt to have that tight, hot embrace close down over her searching tongue. Again Vicky shivered with longing to have a cock of her own that she could plunge into that silken heaven of Celeste's love canal. In one slow, fluid movement, Celeste lowered herself all the way down; crying out softly into Vicky's shoulder as Bob's curved length touched down on her G-Spot. "Oh, God, I think I'm going to come," she husked in Vicky's ear. "Back off an inch," Vicky whispered urgently, lifting Celeste at the waist. Celeste's green eyes flashed from one form of startled surprise to another as she came back from the brink; hardly able to believe she was about to come on the first stroke like teenage boy, she was more surprised still that Vicky knew exactly what was happening and what to do about it. "Oh, God," she gasped breathlessly. "It's like he touched a ... a something ...." She trailed off without finishing the sentence. "An auto-orgasm button?" Vicky suggested. "Exactly!" Celeste agreed, dipping down again and crying out quietly before rising up an inch or so. "Same, same," Vicky smiled. "I think it's the G-spot. It just feels like you're going to come, but instead it keeps building up and you have to really work it to get over the top." Celeste began again with slow, probing strokes; rocking from the hips and thrusting at the end as Bob's erection touched that secret place deep in her core. With each thrust, Celeste's smooth pussy lips touched Vicky's and ground Bob's shaft against her clitoris, causing both women to release muted cries of pleasure into each other's ear. Pressing their bodies together, Celeste's movements became rougher and faster and Vicky felt an improbable third orgasm of the day approaching; brought on at least as much by the thought of Celeste's impending climax as the feel of her soft curves on Vicky's skin and the grinding thrust of Bob's cock against her clitoris. Vicky was hardly surprised when she felt Bob's arms against her as he took hold on the top of Celeste's hips where they narrowed in to her trim waist. She felt Bob buck his hips beneath her, driving harder into Celeste's tight opening. Knowing he was now awake, Celeste lost any reserve she may have been applying and began crying out – Oh God ... Yes ... Harder ... Oh my God, I'm coming ... I'M COMING ... Hold me – as she leaned back against Bob's grip, arching and thrusting her breasts upwards as her hips bucked and writhed in the throes of a powerful orgasm. Feeling a new wetness and warmth on her pussy, Vicky looked down and saw Bob's cum squirting from Celeste's pussy and coating her own smooth lips. Hearing and feeling Celeste coming so unselfconsciously and feeling Bob's cum coating her slit as his cock ground against her love button, it was all too much for Vicky's senses and she sailed over the crest of her own orgasm, gentle and sweet this time as it filled her body with a hot glow and made every nerve ending sing. Her own hips thrusting now, Vicky pressed and ground her pussy into Celeste's and into Bob's wilting erection, spreading his cum and coating the length of her own slit until the three-way junction of their sex was a big, gooey mess. When Celeste's orgasm subsided, they kissed, kneeling up to release Bob's cock and Vicky reached one hand around to hold Celeste's bottom while cupping a breast with the other. Would this be her last opportunity to take advantage of boss's beautiful body? Vicky didn't think so; this was still her first day on the job and her training was nowhere near complete. Best on Board Slowly, his lips closed on hers and held there, frozen. She pulled away a tiny bit, completing the kiss and then opened for another. Bob was there too, open again and ready, and this time they kissed together, closing and pulling away in perfect synchronisation. Two more soft kisses and Bob tilted his head forward, touching his forehead to Vicky's but moving his lips inwards and away. "There is no hand drier," he breathed. "Is there?" "No," whispered Vicky, "It's a fire risk." "She tricked me." It was a statement, not a question. "She tricked both of us." "I'm sorry," he apologised. "Are you?" she said, moving to touch noses with him. "I'm not." She tilted to one side to kiss his lips again. "I'm going to buy her a big bunch of flowers," she smiled. Finally he opened his eyes, looking into Vicky's naked and defenceless gaze, realising that she was telling the truth. This was not some cruel joke. Best on Board Vicky let him continue, who wouldn't, sharing his love of the numbers as a physical experience though the pleasure he gave her. Winding down in his explanation, he finally explained how he had arrived at a solution before the seatbelt light was extinguished, but it wouldn't mean anything unless he was actually right. "I have some good news for you, Bob," Vicky whispered with a shy smile. "Huh?" he said, snapping out of his recollections and focussing back on her face. "What? Was I right?" "I don't know about that," she said. "But I'm pretty sure you're not a virgin anymore." She lifted her hands away from their groins with a flourish. "Ta da!"