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Flight of fantasy; Not my first rodeo - Exhibitionism, In-flight entertainment between m-f strangers

Travelers brought together by whimsical fate. Brought closer, far closer, by intuitive body language. Seemingly casual conversation with specific vocabulary: "Vanilla. Lifestyle. Pleasure. Opportunity. Risk. Discretion."

And, with direct eye contact, "Now. Please."

This late flight, originating in West Texas and culminating in Seattle, suddenly offers entertaiment far surpassing even the options on a transpacific journey.

My hand moves beneath the blanket you'd earlier requested from our tall, brunette, quite attractive flight attendant. We both, when asked, would think, "stewardess" before uttering the currently correct title that betrays our vintage status.

Reaching, teasing. Asking permission with a slight delay. Receiving no complaint, drifting away, then returning higher with increasing intimacy.

Envisioning the colors of lace and silk as my fingertips breach the high wall of your silk fortress. Pressing against your shaved skin as your pelvis tips up to grant welcome access to my descending fingertips sliding gently down onto you.

Surrepticiously teasing the fine edges of your labia as your body instinctively opens to my touch.

The stewardess knows exactly what we are up to. She has been by four times, overtly not looking. The last time, laying her hand on the empty seat ahead of me. Invading our space, subtly. Then brushing my shoulder as she moves toward the back galley.

You are oblivious of this. Your focus is on the sensations building to orgasm. Slow, deep breaths. Fighting the urge to reach down with your right hand, joining mine, and finishing yourself off quickly as you so very well are able.

My pace is not yours. I am memorizing the defined contours of your sex. You have taken over the middle and window seat. Now leaning fully against my shoulder. Your right knee pointed directly at the window. Completely obvious now, regardless of the flimsy blanket that hides nothing but the sight of my hand covering your mons, pressing down hard upon your pubic bone while, now, my middle two fingers are curled up within you, massaging your g-spot in slow alternation. Even as the palm of my hand slowly undulates in a circular motion, hard upon your clit.

The passengers scattered about us are oblivious as your seat moves in reaction to your spasmic lurches against my shoulder. You are lost among the waves of almost painful release rippling across your body. Your only focus now, to tightly hold your breath for the knowledge that to exhale now would be to scream.

My focus is on the minute shifting of my fingertips within you. Coaxing your body along. Feeling the cresting and release of your building climax. Gently curating your orgasm.

The energy of your pussy is drawn across my body, to my shoulder, where I sense the weight of the flight attendant's hand. Resting, purposefully. Joining in our private orgy, as she looks down at the top of your head, across your raised breasts, to my now exposed hand. Pressed hard upon you. Like a rider, hanging on and enjoying the thrill of every moment of those eight seconds...

- BendWithFrenefits