Jake always used to talk about joining the Mile High Club.
He was a good storyteller—he made it sound so hot, whispering about how he wanted to fuck me in the tiny bathroom, with my ass up against the sink and my leg braced against the wall. I probably would have done it, too, even though I wasn’t always the most sexually adventurous girl. Jake could talk me into anything.
That was before I realized that Jake was a lying douche-bag who fucked my roommate behind my back and never even bought me flowers, let alone took me on the kind of vacation that would lend itself to a long plane ride and some airborne nookie.
I was still feeling a little emotionally raw from that revelation when I boarded the red eye to L.A. Of course, the airport reminded me of Jake’s little fantasy, but at least I had progressed from weepiness to anger; thinking about him now filled me with fury. The week before, when I’d been prostrate on my bed crying to my sister over the phone and eating ice cream straight from the pint, she insisted on buying me a ticket to come visit her for a couple of weeks. She thought the change of scenery would be good for me. Since my boyfriend-stealing skank of a roommate was still in the process of moving out, being in my apartment was awkward at best, and so I agreed.
I was thinking scornfully about Jake’s ass—his back hair and his leg hair grew together in the middle, giving him a ridiculously furry bottom—as I slid into the window seat and leaned back, opening the novel I’d brought with me. Then I forgot all about Jake.
Shit, to be honest, I almost forgot my own name. That’s how hot my seatmate was: thick, dark hair, knowing, hooded eyes, and broad shoulders tapering down to a flat stomach and narrow hips. He was wearing a dark suit that looked like it had seen a full day’s wear, his white dress shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie loosened.
I flushed as I caught his knowing glance and realized that he’d seen me appraising him. He smiled, a flash of white teeth against his tan, and he folded his tall frame into the seat next to me.
“Hey, I’m Matt. And it looks like we’ll be spending the night together.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and I found myself smiling back flirtatiously, even though I’d sworn to my sister that I was joining a nunnery.
“Hi, Matt. I’m Marcy. And I’ve got to tell you, I usually at least wait until a guy’s taken me out to dinner before I do that kind of thing.” I smiled up at him, and he held my eyes a moment longer than necessary. I felt a pleasant chill go down my spine, and my nipples tightened under the thin cardigan I wore over my sundress. He smelled amazing, like wood and leather and soap, and I leaned toward him like a flower toward the sun, trying to catch another whiff.
He asked me about the book I was reading, and I reciprocated his polite interest by inquiring about his job. Honestly, I don’t remember the details of our conversation, because it all just felt like filler. Neither my heart nor my mind had any say in what was inevitably coming next; my cunt was making all the decisions right now, and I’d known from the moment I set eyes on him that we were going to fuck.
And a couple of hours later, when the lights had been turned down and most of our fellow passengers had drifted off to sleep beneath the thin, scratchy, airplane blankets, we did.
He made his move casually, almost off-handedly. We were having some inane exchange about a new movie, I think. It might have been a television show, actually—I was on autopilot, thinking about how his teeth on my neck and his hot breath in my ear would feel. But he focused my attention back on him when he touched my knee to emphasize some point he was making. It was a casual gesture, but my heart skipped for an instant and the blood rose to my face. Our eyes met and I saw in his the same naked lust that must have been reflected in mine.
Deliberately, he moved his hand up my thigh and beneath the white eyelet skirt of my dress, his gaze never wavering from mine. I glanced around quickly, to see if anyone was paying attention to us, but even the flight attendants had disappeared for the moment. His fingers grazed the moist front of my panties, and I bit back a moan. I could tell that this was just as hot for him as it was for me; the crotch of his pants had filled out impressively, and the length and thickness of his cock was obvious as it strained against the dark fabric.
He adjusted himself quickly, and muttered, “Follow me in two minutes,” before getting up and walking toward the tiny bathroom in the back of the cabin. I tried to steady my breathing while I counted off the seconds, but I couldn’t help rubbing my thighs together, impatient for the friction of his hand on me again. It seemed like an eternity before I allowed myself to get up and casually move toward the same door I had seen him pass through.
In a moment I was inside, his fingers sliding the lock home and then buried in my hair, pulling my head back and exposing my throat to his tongue and his lips. His hot mouth slid over my collarbone and his fingers pushed against my throbbing clit, pressing it like a button and dragging a groan from me.
“You’re so fucking hot—I’ve been hard for hours, thinking about pulling up that dress and getting inside you—I’m gonna fuck you so good –“
I was already so wet that my panties were soaked through, and his words sent a shudder through me. I was fumbling with his belt and his pants, and then I held his cock in my hand, huge and hot, for a moment before he had me lifted and pressed against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist and my panties yanked to one side. In one hard thrust, he was buried in me balls-deep, and that was all it took to set me off. He covered my mouth with his, muffling my cry as the orgasm ripped through me, and pulled me down faster onto his dick.
He took me hard and fast, and I was glad. Still pulsing from coming so hard, I felt my excitement building again from the way he was pounding into me. His breath was coming faster, and I could feel him growing even bigger inside of me. He was going to come any minute, and I slid my hand between us to rub furiously on my clit, moving right along with him until we both exploded at the same time, him pumping against me until he buried his face against my neck, kissing me lightly as our hearts slowed down.
After a moment, we both steadied ourselves and unwrapped our tangled limbs from around each other.
I looked up at him and saw the little smirk playing around his lips. I couldn’t help myself: I started to giggle, and in a moment he was laughing quietly as well, giving me a conspiratorial look as he wiped himself off and tucked his dick back into his pants. I walked out first, and was amazed to see that the cabin was as still and silent as we had left it; somehow none of the other passengers seemed to have noticed a thing. I slipped back into my seat, sure that anyone could smell the sex on me, but not really caring. A few minutes later, he was beside me, looking completely pulled together. I raised one eyebrow at him, and he winked almost imperceptibly. Then I picked up my book and resumed reading where I’d stopped when he first sat down.
I know that in a perfect storybook ending, we’d have exchanged numbers and gone on a date and maybe even gotten married, and we’d tell our friends the real story of how we met only after a few drinks, in hushed, confidential tones. But that’s not how it happened. I think it’s better this way; he could have been a real asshole, for all I know. This preserved the fantasy. I didn’t feel anything but relief when we got off the plane and he disappeared into the crowd with a little wave. Well, relief and a welcome soreness between my legs. It was my vacation, and it was off to one hell of a start. After all, everybody knows that the best way to get over one guy is to get under another one.
Originally published July 2009
