Red Eye -- #Stewardess #MileHighClub #FreeReadingFest #Prizes

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He was the one. She knew it, the first time she felt him slide into her. Everything was right. Perfect fit, glorious fullness without pain. Every movement woke new nerves, sent new sensations shimmering through her. Bent over the seat, digging her nails into the faux leather covering the armrests as her body shook with his thrusts, she couldn't see his face. She didn't need to see him; she knew what he was thinking, knew what he wanted.

She arched her back, letting him bury his flesh more deeply in hers. She clenched her inner muscles around his hardness, wanting to swallow him, to make him part of her. He rammed his cock into her again and again, one hand over her mouth to stifle her cries. She writhed against him, each stroke a shuddering, prolonged delight that nudged her closer to the ultimate pleasure.

He was not gentle like the men she had dreamed about before she knew him. He was not tender. Still, she had no doubts that he was meant for her. In the darkened cabin, he read her body like Braille. He knew how to tease every nuance of pleasure out of her wet and open flesh. While one hand held her gagged, the other toyed with her nipples through her blouse, twisting and squeezing the swollen nubs. She worried briefly that he'd tear the fabric, until the seething flood of sensation washed her worries away.

Above the sussurations of the passengers shifting in their seats, the coughs and the snores and the faint babble of movie sound tracks, she could hear the slap of his balls against her bare thighs and his open-mouthed panting. The steamy jungle smell of her cunt rose around them. She was sure that someone would notice, would turn around to check the empty rows toward the back of the section. His palm smothered her moans. Then the pulse of his come inside her swept her into a whirling climax. The engine whined in her ears. Gravity released her. She floated weightless, shaken by spasms of pleasure so intense that they practically stripped her of consciousness.

When she came to herself, she was on her knees, her face buried in the cushion, the seat belt buckle digging into her cheek. There was no trace of him, save for the burning in her cunt and the used condom she found under the seat. She pulled herself to her feet, smoothed her uniform down over her torn pantyhose, slipped back into her sensible pumps. She was still shaking.

She peered through the dimness toward the front of the plane. There was a man's head there in 16B, silhouetted by the lighted No Smoking sign on the cabin wall. He leaned against the headrest, seemingly asleep. She could almost believe it had been a dream. But her thighs were sticky with her own juices, and when she pressed them together, delicious echos of her climax sparked through her.

Later, an hour before landing when she came down the aisle with drinks, he had grinned and slipped a card into her hand. "Email me," he had said. "If you want, that is." His expression made it clear that he had no doubts about her decision.

So it had begun. He was a fortyish media hotshot with a cedar and glass ranch house in the Hollywood Hills and a condo on Central Park West. He had lots of excuses to fly cross-country. He had a wife in LA, a suspicious wife who checked his cell phone bills and tried to read his email, a wife too expensive to divorce.

She was twenty eight, a single girl from Iowa City, brought up on the Bible, Nora Roberts and Danielle Steele. The airline had based her in Minneapolis. Her schedule changed from month to month, but whenever she was assigned the red eye, she'd let him know. He'd do his best to arrange a trip east to coincide. Business class. Sixteen B.

It started with her standing at the door of the plane, proper and well-groomed, inspecting boarding passes. He'd tower over her, giving her a proprietary grin that liquefied her bare cunt. She'd learned not to wear underwear when he flied. His scent made her knees buckle even as she welcomed him aboard. "Sixteen B", she'd say, handing back the slip of cardboard. "Down the right aisle, sir." His fingers would brush hers, sending electric sparks to her cunt.

Sometimes he'd murmur his instructions, sotto voce, as she came through with the drink cart, forty five minutes out of LAX. Sometimes he would email her beforehand, sharing his fantasies. "I should crouch behind you as you're checking the boarding passes. My fingers would be buried in your cunt, my thumb stuck in your ass. Then we'd see how cool and collected you really are, Ms. Perfectly Poised Airline Hostess."

Alone in her neat apartment, she'd still blush, reading his messages. Her nipples would harden to aching pebbles. Her pussy would grow so wet that she'd be slithering back and forth on the vinyl desk chair. She'd close her eyes and remember how it felt to have his cock, or his fingers, or both, inside her. She couldn't wait.

At the same time, he scared her. Or rather, her need for him scared her. More than once she was tempted to call in sick when she was assigned to the red eye. What would he think, boarding, finding himself welcomed by some other young lady in the trim navy uniform? Would he miss her, really? Would he make a pass at someone else?

Ultimately, she couldn't bear to give up a chance to see him. To touch and be touched by him. It might be weeks, even months, before the next opportunity. Typically she'd be at the airport hours before the scheduled departure time, hanging around in the staff lounge, drinking cup after cup of weak coffee and replaying their last encounter. Once, he had laid her out on an empty seat, binding her wrists with the seatbelt while he slurped hungrily at her cunt. On another flight, he'd locked them into the bathroom, then made her kneel on the commode and swallow his cock. He had even fingered her to climax in the galley, while the other stewardesses chatted on the other side of the curtain.

She was amazed that they'd never been caught. People - the passengers and the crew - were all so oblivious. For everyone else, the flight was just routine: stressful, exhausting, part of the job, something to be gotten through. For the two of them, it was a ritual.

"It's been six months," he had written to her yesterday. "Our anniversary. I think we should plan something special." She'd followed his instructions, giving herself an enema, gasping at the nasty, delicious relief that came from emptying himself. She bought a tube of personal lubricant at a pharmacy on the far side of town, her cheeks blazing red even though she knew she'd never see the cashier again. As she waited for the first passengers, just inside the door, she was suddenly, irrationally sure that he wouldn't show up. That he'd leave her, empty and hungry, suffering through endless five hour arc across the continent.

But no, there he was, elite level frequent flyer that he was, one of the first people up the jetway. Her heart revved like a jet engine. Liquid trickled down her naked thighs.

"Good evening, sir." His smile lit up the entire cabin. Calm certainty washed over her. Of course he was here. He was the one, the one she had been waiting for.

"Good evening, Miss. How are you tonight?" He hovered over her for an endless moment and she had a fleeting notion that he'd kiss her, though he never had, not on the lips at least. I'll remember that later, she thought. I'll imagine his mouth on mine.

"Very well. And you?"

"Excellent. Looking forward to the flight." He gave her a conspiratorial grin that nearly made her laugh out loud.

"Sixteen B?" she asked, a bit boldly.

"Of course."

"You know the way."

"I do indeed. I'll see you later." He gave her butt a soft slap as he passed. She desperately hoped that no one noticed.

After the folks crammed into economy had gotten their pretzels and the business class passengers had finished their chicken breasts in cream sauce, the lights dimmed. The flight was smooth, no turbulence predicted until eastern Pennsylvania. Their steel coccoon hurtled through the darkness, over the blankness of the plains where she'd been born.

She moved silently through the aisles, headed for the rear-most lavatory, the larger one that was handicapped accessible.

"Leave the door unlocked," he wrote. "Lift your skirt to your waist and bend over the toilet, holding onto the invalid bars. Put the lube on the sink. And wait for me."

When she'd read his instructions, she had imagined what it would feel like, to be so exposed and vulnerable. Since the lock was not thrown, the indicator lights would show that the lavatory was free. At any moment, someone might slide open the door and come face to face with her bare bum. How could she possibly do such a thing, even for him? Still, she knew in her soul that she'd follow his instructions to the letter. She didn't sleep, the night she got that message. She sat up, naked in her single bed, staring at her own pale, lush body, wondering what she was becoming.

Now, actually arrayed in the indecent position that he had dictated, she felt oddly calm, though there was an undercurrent of excitement. He was in charge, even if he was still lounging back in 16B sipping his scotch. She would wait for him. She trusted him to come. To take what he wanted and give her what she needed. And if someone else discovered her lewdness, well, perhaps that was his intent, to show her how much she craved the exposure and the shame.

A steady stream of cool air from the ventilator played over her buttocks. She could almost believe it was his fingers, stroking, testing her readiness. No one had ever touched her, there in that most private spot, let alone entered her as he promised to do. She was simultaneously terrified and eager.

Five minutes. Ten. She became agitated. How long? She felt the plane shift, a kind of hiccup in the air. Could they were descending, two hours early?

All at once she heard of squeak of the door sliding open. She stopped breathing. There was no gasp of shock, no outraged shriek. His scent wafted into the small chamber. The door scraped shut. The lock clicked. She released her pent-up breath.

He laid his hand lightly on her naked rump. "Lovely," he murmured, his fingers drawing small circles on her flesh. Bending over, he planted a kiss on each cheek. "Thank you, Alison."

Her heart surged. He rarely used her name. That was part of the game, the conceit that they were chance-met, lust-driven strangers, that this was the first time that he'd partaken of her body. Perhaps tonight would be different. Perhaps they were moving toward something closer, more substantial, something beyond fantasy.

He did not say anything further. He simply stroked her ass, and looked at her. She felt the heat of his gaze sweeping over her like a spotlight. She didn't need to see him to know. It was, as always, as if she could read his thoughts. She arched her back a bit, offering him the swelling globes that he admired so much. He reacted with sudden, stinging slaps, one to each cheek. Her startled cry turned into a moan as the heat raced from her burning butt down to her pussy.

"Minx! Are you so eager?" He slipped a finger between her splayed thighs and into her soaking cunt. She bucked against him, unable to control her reactions. "Seems as though you are. Well, I won't make you wait any longer."

His hand left her sex for a moment. It was unbearable. She heard him pick up the K-Y. The tube made an obscene spurting sound as he squeezed out what sounded like several tablespoons. Then his fingers were back, lightly stroking her pussy lips and circling her clit. She squirmed, rubbing against him, halfway to coming already.

Then other sensations distracted her from the hungry buzz in her cunt. He traced one slippery finger down the crack between her cheeks. It settled against the whorl of her sphincter, swirling around that sensitive spot, slathering her with lubricant. At first he concentrated only on the entrance. Even that was nearly too intense to bear. He massaged her clit and her rear hole in the same rhythm, circling, spiraling down, then slipping his digits into her, front and back. His finger in her anus reawakened all the shameful pleasure of the enema. She clenched down on him, struggling for breath. He probed deeper, then added another finger, stretching and loosening the rubbery ring of muscle.

He knew that she was virgin there. He took his time, adding another finger only when she was rocking backwards, keening, urging him deeper, silently begging. He pulled out, and she thought that she'd weep. Then she felt delicious pressure against her slippery hole and knew that it was his cock, much thicker and harder than his fingers, seeking entrance.

He hovered there, rubbing the bulb against her, easing her open. All at once he jerked his hips, forcing his bulk halfway into her rectum. She whimpered at the sudden invasion, edged as it was with unaccustomed pain. He thrust again and buried his full length in her bowels. His hand was ready to muffle her scream. Her musk rose fresh and sharp from his fingers to her nostrils.

He waited while she became accustomed to the novel sensations. The pain faded. He seemed to swell inside her, huge and hot. She fought the urge to expel him, trying to relax. He started to move, pulling partway out and then slamming his cock even deeper than before. He gripped her ass cheeks and held them apart, so that he could plunge his engorged, solid cock in, up to his very balls.

It was like nothing that she'd ever felt. Each stroke kindled a delicious burn that radiated from her pinioned ass to her extremities. When he filled her, the pressure rose to her chest, making her gasp. When he emptied her, tears filled her eyes at the yawning ache that swept over her.

Her cunt felt all the emptier, with his flesh stretching her behind. She desperately wished that he had two cocks, that he could penetrate her front and rear at once. She wanted him to take all of her.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he slipped a hand into her cunt, gathering her juices. The next thing she knew, he was sliding something hard and smooth into her pussy, raking it across her clit on the way in.

It might have been the new stimulation. It could have been her foggy realization that he'd just plunged a dildo into her cunt. Her muscles clenched down on the enormous bulk invading her. Her cunt convulsed, vibrations speeding through her, pleasure peaking and then climbing off the scale.

Then, just as the first climax subsided, the plane hit a pocket of bad air. It bucked and rocked, slamming her back against the rod of flesh embedded in her ass, then forward onto the dildo. She came again, a delicious shattering that left her hanging limp on the two poles that impaled her.

The 747 continued to shake. He grabbed her hips and fucked her hard, using her body to bring himself off. The plane dipped suddenly, leaving a hole in her gut. What a way to die, she thought, delirious with pleasure. With one cock in my ass and one in my cunt.

With a grunt, he slammed into her one last time. She felt the heat of his come in her bowels, even through the latex. Every sensation seemed to be heightened after her dual crisis. When his cock slipped out of her, she reveled in the feel of his half-hard penis slithering over her cheeks. When he reached to remove the toy, she ground her clit against it, and exploded a third time.

The plane still tossed like a feather on the transcontinental currents. She heard a ding; a red light came on near the ceiling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we're experiencing some severe turbulence. Please return to your seats immediately and fasten your seatbelts."

She turned, seeing his face for the first time since he'd entered. He looked more serious than she would have expected, without his usual teasing grin.

"You'd better get back to your seat. If one of the other stewardesses notices that you're missing..."

He stopped her with a kiss, grabbing her shoulders, smearing KY all over her blouse. His mouth was as forceful as his cock. His tongue was brazen, taking her over. She relaxed into his embrace, floating on a pink cloud of happily ever afters. He devoured her as though she was his last meal.

The plane shook itself like a dog after swimming. The force of it pulled them apart.

He gazed at her, his dark eyes brimming with emotion. "Alison - thank you."

"Anytime, sir." Sure of herself, surer of him now than ever, she risked a bit of cheek. "You know that I'd do anything for you. Just let me know what you'd like for the next time."

He stroked her tousled blond hair. "I'm afraid that there won't be a next time."

Her heart skipped a beat, then another. She grabbed his shirt. "What? What do you mean?"

"My wife. She's been snooping around. Asking about all these trips to the east coast. Next time, she says, she wants to come with me. Visit the shops on Fifth Avenue. See a show."

"So? Take her some time when I'm not on call. Convince her there's nothing going on." She stood on tiptoe and tried to kiss him. He did not respond.

"I'm sorry..."

"Look, we can cool things off for a month or so. I can wait, if I have to, if that's the only way..."

"But I can't wait." He gently unclasped her hands where they gripped his clothing. "Between times - when we're apart - I can hardly stand it. I think of you all the time. I'm constantly tempted to write you, to tell you all the kinky things that I want to do to you..."

She snuggled against him. "So why don't you?"

"Don't you understand? I can't! I can't afford to be obsessed with you! It would ruin me. When I'm with you, I'm risking everything - my life, my fortune, my job, my reputation."

"And what about me? All I ever dreamed of as a kid was being a stewardess, but if we were caught - no airline would ever hire me again." She pulled herself to her full 5'4", just barely regulation height for air crew. "But I'd do anything for you. I love you."

He couldn't meet her eyes. "I know. I'm close to loving you, too. You're the most perfect partner. It's like you can read my mind..."

A hint of triumph laced through her pain. He felt it too. It wasn't just her romantic imagination. "I know. I understand." She took his hands in hers. "Please, Carl. Give us a chance. What we have is something precious. It's once in a lifetime. Don't throw it away."

Anguish twisted his handsome face. "Alison, I don't have a choice." The bell dinged again, and the seatbelt light switched off. He backed out of the cubicle, closing it behind him. Not even saying goodbye.

She sank down onto the toilet, burying her face in her hands. Her whole body shook, but her tears were silent, spilling over her fingers and soaking her crumpled skirt. Please, she thought, her mind whirling desperately. Let the plane crash. Let the world end.

She cried and cried, until her throat rasped and her eyes burned. Finally, exhausted, she leaned back against the wall. There was something there, pressing against her buttocks. She reached behind and brought out the dildo.

It was hard rubber, bright purple, and shaped like a rabbit. It was so ridiculous that in the depths of her despair, she almost laughed. She ran her hand along its sticky length, remembering the glorious places he had taken her. She sniffed at it. The oceany reek of her cunt woke echoes of her climax. She suddenly felt how stretched she was, behind, the legacy of his cock plowing her. It burned a bit, but the sensation was pleasant, stirring further shadows of past lust.

She felt the plane nose downward, just as the PA came on. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're starting our descent to JFK. Please fasten your seatbelts, lock your tray tables and bring your seats to an upright position." She stood up resolutely and tried to brush the wrinkles from her uniform.

Let him go. If he left, then she must have been wrong. He was not the one for her, the one she'd been searching for all her life. That man was still out there, waiting for her, somewhere. And now she knew a lot more about how to recognize him, and how to make him happy.

She splashed some hot water on her face, then peered at her reflection. Her eyes were bloodshot from all her crying, but otherwise, she looked pretty good. She pinned up her hair again, and reapplied her lipstick. After a moment's thought, she unfastened the top button on her blouse.

Lots of men had fantasies about stewardesses. She could take advantage of that. She smiled at the sexy young woman in the mirror, savoring the growing buzz between her thighs. "Good evening, sir," she pouted. "Welcome aboard."

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