Steamy Airplane Sex
"IN FLAGRANTE DELICTO II. Departing Sydney," an erotic affair story by Sandra Annette Slater
Read the first part of this story, "Il Flagrante Delicto I," here.
Waking to the distinctive chime from her BlackBerry as the Aussie sun peeked through the drawn curtains of her spacious suite, Marcia Vargas reached across the king platform bed and over some scattered down pillows to read the incoming communication:
RESERVATIONS ON SYDNEY TOUR BUS AND HARBOUR CRUISE. LEAVE HOTEL AT 9:15 AM SHARP! CORDIALLY, GENE
Within two rings of the hotel’s phone, Marcia lifted the cordless receiver. “Good morning, sir.”
“You got my email?” Gene asked.
“Meet you for breakfast at the lobby restaurant in an hour,” she responded, smiling to herself.
“Just finished jogging in Hyde Park – I’ll knock on your door with a latte from the Executive Lounge in five minutes,” the CEO said.
Ever the leader and affable host, Eugene Pearce ensured a perfect morning exploring Oz’s iconic capital city via touring coach and cruise ship. They saw the botanic gardens and Bondi Beach; then sailed under Harbour Bridge past Sydney Opera House and back to Darling Harbour. Gene intermittently held Marcia’s hand, stealing discreet, frequent kisses.
____________________________________
Later that afternoon, Marcia and Gene checked out of the Marriott and headed to the airport.
“Let’s get through security and relax awhile in the SilverKris Lounge,” Gene suggested, fishing for his passport in the pocket of his Armani cardigan sweater jacket.
“How long is the flight to Changi Airport?” Vargas asked, passport in-hand and stunningly fashionable with charcoal yoga leggings, mini emu boots, and a pink, funnel-neck sweater that she had purchased for the trip when she was in San Francisco.
“About nine hours,” Gene said. “With the delay, we’ll arrive in Singapore just after 11 PM.”
An elegant Air Hostess, wearing the trademark Singapore Sarong Kebaya and sporting an oblong name tag, escorted the couple down one of two narrow aisles of suites fitted in the nose of the jumbo jet’s main deck. “Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Pearce. Allow me to lower the seat divider for you to share the experience of our first class service,” she volunteered, opening an electronically operated sliding door to a sanctuary-like chamber suite in the center row. “May I show you the amenities of our Airbus lavatories, Mrs. Pearce? They’re just behind us next to where you boarded.”
Marcia followed the Air Hostess to the lavatory. “My name is actually Marcia Vargas,” she volunteered. “We’re on business in Australasia—Pearce is a colleague.” Marcia eyed the mirrored bathroom designed in soothing natural hues with vanity lights and soft background music. “It’s a spa,” she murmured, off topic.
“May I apologize, Ms. Vargas, for referring to you as ‘Mrs. Pearce?’ I am Rani Yang and will be serving you today on the way to my home country in Maritime Southeast Asia.”
Their cabin baggage stowed under footrests within the suite, the privileged travelers slumped into lavish designer armchairs and buckled their seatbelts. The cabin provided a unique intimacy amidst the tranquility of indulgent leather and wood surroundings. Enjoy, Marcia – seize the day! she reminded herself, closing her eyes. And as the two-story winged hotel roared down runway 25, lifting skyward, Gene reached across the depressed privacy divider and affectionately clasped her hand.
The couple awoke well after reaching cruising altitude (which was conveniently displayed on the big-screen mounted on the wall). Rani filled flutes with Dom Pérignon and served a small plate of smoked salmon and skewered prawn finger food. “Our meal service is dine-on-demand,” the Air Hostess divulged, handing à la carte menus to the couple. She returned with a lightweight chrome bucket filled with ice for the champagne, and a crystal bowl of fresh strawberries. “Please press the attendant button on the entertainment system’s universal remote control when you wish to order your meal.”
“Thanks, Ms. Yang. Would you please bring us some sparkling water when you get the chance?” Gene asked.
“Of course, Mr. Pearce…And would you both please buckle up when the seat belt sign over the door is illuminated?” Rani requested in flawless English.
“This is plenty of food, Marcia. How ‘bout we hold off on dinner?” The CEO suggested, passing the cuisine and a refilled glass of champagne to his colleague. “Here’s to Global Nutraceuticals’ successful acquisition,” he proposed.
The pair raised their glasses in a toast to Project Boomerang. Here’s to us, Marcia wanted to say out loud, already lightheaded from the vintage cuvée. What’s next, at 35,000 feet? she wondered to herself as the Airbus momentarily climbed, responding to a subtle resonance of thrust from its jets.
Exiting the suite with toiletries to freshen up, Gene and Marcia passed Rani Yang, who balanced a tray of mineral waters and lime wedges in the aisle. Another Air Hostess followed Rani, and entered their compartment to draw the mini blinds closed and lower twin mattresses from a wall, simultaneously altering the armchairs into a standalone double bed. After spreading fine linen and full-sized pillows, they scattered a handful of rose petals on the French duvet cover, then dimmed the suite’s ambient mood lighting, assuring Marcia and Gene secluded privacy and restful slumber.
Gene returned first, and was seated on the just turned-down bed in underclothes when Marcia knocked from outside the locked sliding door. Gene located a switch and opened the auto-entrance. The essence of her perfume was tantalizing when she paused momentarily in the doorway. She sat down next to him, glancing at the open laptop displaying streaming video.
“I’m impressed—it’s a resort. Where’s the fireplace?” she joked, trying not to stare at her boss in his underwear. “Did you see a card in the bathroom requesting couples not to engage in inappropriate activity? There was one in the women's room.”
“Are you also going to ask me to fasten my seatbelt?” he countered with a smirk. “For the airfare cost of this first class accommodation, let’s enjoy the flight and decide for ourselves what’s appropriate. Why don’t you get comfortable and join me for some entertainment?” Gene couldn’t help but admire her pink lip gloss and expressive blue eyes. She was dressed in a white sleeveless nightgown with matching sleep-pants—they looked silky and inviting.
Take a cleansing breath, Marcia, she thought, reaching for an expandable carry-on bag. She went to the compact wardrobe closet to hang a few things. She could feel her CEO’s attentive gaze on her backside. She slipped from her white sleeping bottoms to reveal a silk pair of panties. I wonder if he likes what he sees.
“You’re gorgeous, Marcia Vargas,” Gene said over the drone of the jet’s Rolls Royce engines. He dimmed the suite’s lighting and poured his fellow traveler another glass of champagne.
They sipped their champagne and turned to the PC. An image of two attractive ingénues, locked arm-in-arm, mid-step, on each side of a handsome young wooer shifted onto the screen. “Click on that one,” Marcia quipped.
Gene clicked on the image. The suitor on the muted video lifted one actress’s tube top, exposing her small but pointy breasts, which he excitedly fondled and licked. The other girl unbuttoned her pleated blouse and unfastened her bra before pulling the actor’s partial erection out through the zipper of his pants. The actor’s unretracted foreskin resembled the proboscis of a pygmy elephant’s trunk.
Leaning over, Marcia grasped Gene’s neck with both her hands and passionately kissed his inviting lips. “I think I’ve seen this feature before,” she murmured, dismissing the small-screen broadcast that was intended as an aphrodisiac.
After he returned her kiss, he asked, “You’re kidding—where did you watch it? The Private Media Group from Barcelona was giving away flash drives with highlights from its best adult films at a SEXPO booth,” the newly anointed pornmeister explained. “Want to see another one?”
“Take me where I’ve never been before. That’s what you promised in Sydney last night. Do you remember?”
Reaching for his carry-on and the concealed tote bag inside, Gene retrieved a purple mini vibrator. It was smaller than an egg, and it had a wireless remote control that looked like the key fob to his Mercedes. They kissed again, exploring each other’s lips, and then he activated the control button. He gingerly pressed the pulsing rubber egg over Marcia’s clothed left breast and, seeing the pleasure it gave her, he moved the egg over the curve of her right breast. She reached for her boss’s briefs and stroked his cockhead through the fabric.
“We’re gonna get caught by the cabin crew,” she whispered, suddenly nervous. “How do you know there isn’t surveillance in these suites? What if someone peeks over the top of the walls?”
“We’re entitled to our privacy, and no one’s watching us. The enclosures are almost seven feet high,” he reassured her.
“Turn it on a lower speed—please,” she whispered. Obediently, he depressed the control button twice, reducing the egg’s surge to an off-and-on-again hum.
“Why don’t you lie down?” Gene suggested.
Classic Nude 4 by Mofo (prints available at ObsessionArt.com)
He set the laptop on the floor and knelt at the foot of the bed. She lay back, and he removed her panties. He slid one palm under her fleshy buttock and used his other hand to press the oscillating toy against the tender folds of her vagina. The root of her pleasure-center swelled against the velvety feel of the toy. Gene buried his face in the musk of her crease, still smelling faintly of her perfume. He excitedly licked her vulva, lapping the pearly bump of her clit.
God, this feels good, Marcia thought, eyes shut, contemplating the intimacy of cunnilingus and its absence from her marriage.
“Let me pleasure all of you,” Gene whispered, lifting his new lover’s back and sliding the nightgown’s straps off her slender shoulders to release her breasts. “We’ve got all night together.”
Gene licked Marcia until she was wiggling beneath him. He stood and removed his underpants, then found the sample of Astroglide in his belongings.
“You can open your eyes, Marcia,” her paramour suggested.
“But I prefer my eyes closed. It awakens other senses and I want to wonder what’s about to happen,” she replied, propping herself up by the elbows in the pose of an artist’s seminude model. However, she did open her eyes, and looked at him, smiling.
Hovering over the bed in just a v-neck undershirt with his semi-erection, Gene squeezed lubricant onto two fingers of one hand and the thumb of the other. He spread her legs with the butt of his palm, and anointed the clam-like lips of her vagina with the lube, stroking and gently teasing her aroused clit. Marcia lay back again, and he slowly inserted one, then two, slicked digits into and along the upper walls of her pussy, while massaging the ring of her anus with the lubricated thumb of his free hand. He applied more Astroglide over the mini egg’s surface and gently pushed it into her completely, its nylon cord exposed so that he could easily remove it.
Gene switched functions on the egg’s remote until Marcia pleasure was apparent. He watched her press her thighs together and raise her knees, and then he reached for the airline’s Ferragamo toiletry kit. “Just try to sense the rhythm of our lovemaking,” Gene implored, removing a black blindfold. He slid it over her head and placed it gently over her eyes.
He’s taking me where I’ve never been before, she thought, delighted. Oh, Jesus, I’m under his spell.
Gene put the toy on medium vibration mode and placed the egg’s remote control on the bed in front of him. He reached for one of the strawberries left behind by the Air Hostess and dipped it in his flute of Dom Pérignon. He softly dabbed the fruit against Marcia’s nipples, then circled them slowly. He pressed the strawberry to her lips, inviting a taste, and then he repeated the champagne ritual. He then took a rose petal from a pillow and lightly dragged it back and forth over the length of her genitals, placing it under her nose to smell.
Gene stood, gripped his erection just below its circumcised head, and lustfully stroked his member above the lovely, blindfolded face of a woman in the clutches of bliss, capturing the erotic image on the video of his imagination.
“I want to make you come,” he whispered. He reached into his carry-on again and pulled out another bulb-like vibrator that was white with a pink, tapered top.
“I can’t,” Marcia pleaded, a slight grimace tensed the corners of her mouth. “I need you to stimulate my bud.”
Gene increased the speed of the invisible egg in her pussy to the hi-pulsate mode and pressed the quiet, fluttering, hand-held vibrator’s tip over Marcia’s breasts, circling her puffy areolas. A small, half-formed smile spread over her lips and she turned her head sideways. “What is that? It feels great.”
“Remember Rhonda at the SEXPO Paradise Fantasies’ booth?” Gene asked. “She recommended this mini vibrator. It’s a Lelo Siri that I had to charge for two hours at the hotel.” He chuckled.
“I love it. It’s perfect,” Marcia gasped. Gene bent over her and slid the Siri across her naval and down, then back up, the pleat of her moist quim. He held the toy on its side against her clit to diffuse the stimulation from its near-silent oscillations.
The sensations were almost more than she could take. “Feed me your cock!” she begged, and the guttural c-k sound exploded in his ears.
Grasping the base of his rigid man-root, Gene touched its swollen glans against her painted lips. Marcia licked a droplet of viscous precum seeping from the slit. He pointed and massaged the sensitive nerve endings at the top of her crease’s opening and she moaned. The vibrating sensations on her clit met with the quiver egg in her pussy. “Mm…mmm…o-h-!, I’m almost there. I’m coming,” she gasped, the sounds of her climax muffled by the cock in her mouth.
Marcia gleefully stroked the midsection of Gene’s cock one-handed. Watching Marcia’s breasts rise and fall, her hips gyrate, her toes curling, he resisted coming between her lovely lips.
Her sighs morphed into slight giggles when he lifted the Lelo vibrator from the tumescent lips of her vulva and considerately removed the blindfold. “That was wonderful—thank you,” Marcia said breathlessly. She discreetly and gently removed the silicone egg. “We better fasten our seat belts,” she teased, reacting to the audible ding followed by an illuminated logo over the suite’s sliding door. Then, “I want to get you off,” she softly murmured. “Lie down next to me.”
This is what I want…Go for it, she thought.
____________________________________
Gene lay down opposite her on the bed, his head at Marcia’s feet, and he buckled the loose fitting seatbelts over each of their nearly naked bodies. A skilled fellatrix, she pulled his hard-on toward her rosy lips and teased it with her tongue, kissing the sensitive bottom side where the sculpted glans merged with his erect shaft.
As she licked and sucked Gene’s cock, Marcia fondly recalled long forgotten variations of giving head to her spouse and the elation of his ejaculations. Flush with guilt, she worshipped Eugene Pearce’s penis, desiring to taste and experience the texture of his sperm. At 35,000 feet, Marcia rationalized her passion for the CEO. She was certain that elevating their relationship in such a way was one of sustainable affection, and would thrive without the permanence of love or marriage. It felt appropriate; she had seized the day.
Lazily fellating him amid moderate turbulence, she felt his fingers run through her auburn hair. He enjoyed the protracted pleasure emanating from her mouth. “Let me use a condom. I brought some from SEXPO,” he suggested reaching for his baggage. “I don’t want Ms. Yang to discover semen stains in our suite.”
“I’ll do it. The seat belt sign is off,” Marcia said, unfastening the buckles and fishing for the tradeshow carryall. “Jeesh, there’s enough stuff in this to open a sex shop,” she said, shifting the contents and removing a clear-wrapped rubber, a stretchable cockring vibe, and an odd looking vibrator shaped like a finger.
Unrolling the condom over the length of his firm tool, she picked up the sample of Astroglide on the bed and applied a few droplets of the lubricant. She pressed her thumb and forefinger with pleasing pressure against his frenulum, causing the fleshy helmet of his cockhead to swell under the reservoir tip like a curious soldier standing at attention. “Hmm…ohmm,” Gene cooed like a baby. “That feel’s good.”
The savvy seductress stretched the soft aqua cockring until it was no thicker than her wedding band. The cockring was equipped with a mini, battery-operated vibrator shaped like a St. Bernard dog’s brandy keg. She placed it over Gene’s erection and down to its base. Squeezing the vibe’s sides, Marcia watched his face as quiet pulsations engulfed the source of his manhood. She looped the green finger vibrator around the end of her index digit above the knuckle. The whisper-quiet oscillation resonated throughout her hand as she cupped his testicles and watched her lover’s eyes close with his mouth agape.
Like an anonymous porn queen on his thumb drive full of video clips, Marcia pressed the length of her vibrating finger over the erogenous zone on the underside of Gene’s knob. “I’m gonna come,” he warned, his legs stiffening, his head pressing back against a pillow.
“Yes, baby,” she prompted, massaging her awakened clit with the middle finger of her free hand.
“Ah, ohh,” Gene mouthed as his legs quivered and squirts of semen splashed against the inflated sides of the condom’s nipple. Eventually satiated, his mouth formed a circle as he slowly exhaled and then smiled, nudging Marcia’s vibrating finger off his pulsing erection.
“I want to taste it,” Marcia muttered, tenderly gripping the rubber under the still swollen ridges around the crown of his cock and sliding it off. Holding the sheath upside down, she angled the spent condom to her lips, spilling Gene’s fresh essence over her tongue. She swallowed, watching a bead of semen ooze from the slit of Gene’s satisfied penis.
____________________________________
The monitor positioned their flight over the Indian Ocean, at least three more hours from the Strait of Singapore. Marcia and Gene pondered the dénouement of their affection for each other, cuddled beneath a comforter within the permissive sanctum of their A380 suite. They could hear the flight attendants quietly talking in the aisles.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Gene announced, yawning in bed. However, Marcia slid from the bed first and quickly put her bottoms back on.
“Me first,” she replied, grabbing a toothbrush from the airline’s complimentary pouch. “Do you want me to clean up our toys?” she paused at the door.
“Allow me, my dear,” Gene said. “Would you like to take the vibrators home with you?” he added with a partial chuckle.
“They’re your souvenirs from Sydney. I prefer that you explain them to the airport screeners when the luggage is x-rayed!” she tittered back. “I’ll ask for some fresh water in the galley. Do you want something to eat?” Marcia inquired. “Do you think Rani’s awake?
“Sparkling water’s fine. This is Singapore Airlines—of course Rani’s up and about. There’ll be a meal service before we land,” he conjectured as Marcia exited the suite.
Gene hurriedly slipped into his loose fit denims sans briefs and partially zipped the sweater jacket over his undershirt, gathering up the vibrators and remote control. He placed them in a plastic Marriott laundry bag, taken last minute. Locating the discarded condom, he folded it and stuck it in his pant’s pocket before circling toward the lavatory.
“May I ask if you are enjoying the flight?” Rani inquired as she escorted Marcia back to the suite with fresh glasses of Italian Mineral Water. Oh God, did Gene take the sex toys with him? Marcia thought, surveying the duvet’s rumpled surface. What about the condom?
The attendant politely placed the tray of waters on the comforter, glimpsing the preview pornographic screenshots on Pearce’s open laptop next to the bed.
“Yes, of course,” Marcia responded, relieved at the apparent absence of any evidence of their recent sexcapade.
“It is not quite Independence Day in California, but may I be first to extend you a happy Fourth of July weekend,” the Air Hostess proposed.
“That’s very kind of you, Rani,” Marcia said.
“May I bring you a light dinner? You must be hungry,” Rani offered. Her slight grin suggested she was aware of the intimacy her passengers had shared through the night. “I have lovely Char Siew Rice, Singapore’s pork staple, or our signature Nasi Lemak with coconut rice, spicy prawns, grilled fish cake with egg and chicken topped with sambal chili sauce.”
“In about half-an-hour, please bring us one entrée of each,” Gene agreed, appearing in the doorway. “Are you serving a Sauvignon Blanc?”
“Certainly, Mr. Pearce, I will be glad to accommodate you. May I bring a stocked bottle from the Marlborough Region of New Zealand?” Rani replied with a slight bow. “And would you like us to raise the mattresses and return the suite to its arm chairs and tables?”
“That’d be fine, Rani. How long before we land?” the CEO asked, looking over his shoulder at the LCD wall screen as thrusts from the jet’s engines produced a slight shift in altitude.
“We’ll start our descent into Changi International in about two hours. Please continue to enjoy yourselves,” the cordial hostess said. The soft ding again signaled that the Fasten Seat Belt sign was illuminated. “Please remain on the bed, but buckle up over your legs as near to your waists as possible, in case of turbulence,” Rani warned, leaving the suite.
“Let’s wait for the Seat Belt light to go out, love, and spend some time in the boarding area while our cabin is converted,” Gene urged, inviting another kiss from Marcia.
“Rani already wished me a Happy July Fourth,” Marcia said.
“She’s very perceptive,” Gene observed. “But Rani has no idea how much we’ve enjoyed the ride.”
Returning to the comfort of their rearranged suite after cleaning up and dressing for the remainder of the memorable journey back to the northern hemisphere, they fed each other bites of the Malaysian delicacies with pink acrylic chopsticks and nearly consumed the bottle of distinctive white wine.
“I think I left some makeup in the bathroom,” Marcia suddenly remembered, setting down her glass and rising to retrieve the cosmetics. “Thank you, Gene, for this spectacular A380 suite.”
“Thank Global Nutraceuticals! You did a great job for the company in Singapore and Sydney, Marcia. Project Boomerang’s acquisition will be a success, in large part, because of your diligence,” her boss acknowledged.
Calm down, Marcia, she thought, enjoying the CEO’s accolades.
Marcia recovered her compact and shut the lavatory door behind her. However, Rani intercepted Marcia at the entryway to the Airbus’ main deck of suites with Gene’s Marriott laundry bag in-hand, its top neatly rolled closed.
“Mr. Pearce left this in the lavatory. You will want to take it with you, Ms. Vargas,” the airline attendant apprehensively exclaimed, handing her passenger the plastic pack of evidence.
Surprised, Marcia impulsively opened the flexible pouch and saw the mess of toys she had recently enjoyed. Stay calm, Marcia, she thought, looking back up at the Air Hostess. What is there left to explain?
“It’s okay, Ms. Vargas,” whispered Rani with a wink. “Mrs. Pearce probably wouldn’t appreciate these as much as you.”
Copyright October 2011, Sandra Annette Slater
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.
