Anticipation – part one
It had been months since I had seen him. Three months to be exact, three months of loneliness and frustration of the emotional and sexual kind. The intensely sexual kind. Three months of becoming literally a mistress of the art of masturbation and self-pleasuring. Three months of experience which I couldn’t wait to share with Brian.
These were the thoughts that filtered through the sleepiness of my jet-lagged brain as I stared out the tiny fiberglass window of the plane. Not that there was anything to see but the fluffy whiteness of clouds, so there was no view to distract me from my contemplation. And considering the reunion soon to be at hand, I could think of little else but finally ending three months worth of grueling celibacy.
I checked my watch again. Still an hour and a half remaining in the flight. With a sigh I lowered the window shade and nestled my head against the pillow I had stuffed between the seat and the wall of the airplane. My gritty eyelids inexorably lowered, and I dozed…
He stroked my face and gazed into my eyes as I squirmed underneath him. I gazed back earnestly, all of the need and desire mirrored blatantly there for him to see. But still he teased me. Lifting his hips, he probed my pussy with just his cock head, and in my sensitized condition, could almost feel the slit slide like a custom-made groove over my clit. I arched against him further, seeking to suck him inside of me, needing the penetration so badly I thought I would die.
Although I knew he wanted it almost as badly as I did, he still withheld. “Just a second,” he said, “Need to make sure you’re wet enough.” Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue plunging into my mouth aggressively. My eyes were closed, my head swam, but still I could feel his hand snake down between our two sweating bodies, inch into my damp muff, and slide a finger slowly over my clit and down between the cleft of my slick pussy lips. He pushed his finger inside of me, up to his bottom knuckle, and wiggled it around, testing the waters, as his knuckles continued to grind into my hot mound.
“Oh God…” I moaned shakily, “Please…” His hand left my soaking cunt, and slithered up between our torsos, leaving a slimy trail up my abdomen. He stopped to cup one heavy breast, and roughly pinched my nipple. I gasped.
“Please…?” he said.
“Please…” I cleverly repeated. I could take his teasing no longer. My hands raked a trail down his back to his ass, gripping it fiercely. For once, he obliged me by repositioning the head of his cock to the entrance of my pussy, nestling the hot tip between my hotter lips. I tried to pull his hips into mine, aching to feel the familiar spreading of his fat prick as it forged into my hole. But although I, to my credit, am a strong woman, he was still a stronger man. His buttock cheeks clenched tightly in my straining hands, and he remained poised just outside my throbbing cunt.
“Please…what?” he urged.
“Please…fuck me now!!” I sobbed, the words tearing from me. I was never a very vocal person when it came to sex, and he was never very insistent on hearing me voice my carnal needs. But this time it seemed he needed to hear me verify how much I needed him as much as I DID need him: desperately.
Without reply, he crushed his lips down on mine once again, and the tension of his ass under my hands abruptly released as he sank down into me. He literally sank. His cock was so thick, even with my relatively spacious pussy, the first time he entered me was always a stretch, his penis literally pushing the walls of my cunt out of the way as it broke new ground. And the sensation, prolonged all this time, felt so goddamned good I thought I would faint. Oh, if only I could have that first thrust, over and over again, every time.
He started slowly, rocking against me, his cock sliding out and in rhythmically, alternately filling and emptying my pussy, only to stuff it once more with his considerable girth again, and the excruciating pleasure of it quickly brought on the familiar tingle of my impending orgasm. I always feel my orgasms well in advance, and enjoy considerable buildup before the release. But once I felt it start, I turned into a wild woman, clutching and groping at Brian with unchained fervor, my hips arching up to lock against his, such that every forceful thrust ground his pelvis into my aching clit. Which only made me crazier, more desperate.
Brian responded to my frenzy by picking up the pace, no longer sinking and withdrawing, but slamming and jerking, fucking me with increasing speed and force. Both of us were out of control, and strained against each other, grasping each other as we both approached orgasm. We were two perfectly orchestrated instruments, playing each other expertly. My melody: crescendo, crescendo, crescendo…FORTE!!! I came with a vengeance, my body stiffening, my breath catching in my throat, only barely audible whimpers of pleasure a staccato to the rhythm of our bodies. And as I came, my cunt spasmed forcefully around his pounding prick, squeezing him, encouraging him, and with a few more grunts and thrusts, he responded with his harmony: a moan of a deeper timbre, long, drawn out, his cum blasting hotly inside of me like a clash of cymbals, loud, then softer, softer, softer…to fall silent as the symphony wound down to its conclusion. Our bodies and breathing playing decrescendo, decrescendo, decrescendo…pianissimo.
It was searingly hot in the room, our bodies covered with a sheen of perspiration. But after he slowly pulled out of me, he held me close, plastering me to him, ignoring the sticky heat of us both.
We shared a languorous moment of silence, then, “I’m going to miss you.”
I turned to face him, saw the sincerity in his eyes, and kissed him softly. “I’m going to miss you too. I love you so much…”
“I love you too.”
We cuddled for a few moments longer, then began the painful process of packing…
A jolt of turbulence woke me up. I blinked my eyes hastily, and noticed that I had curled up into the narrow seat, facing the window. Furthermore, one arm had stolen surreptitiously into my folded lap, and the heel of one palm was pressed into the cleft between my legs. I blushed as I remembered about women not being able to experience orgasm in a dream unless there is some physical stimulation outside the dream. I sniffed tentatively, and sure enough, there was the faint but tangible smell of arousal wafting gently around me. Oh God.
I lifted my head from the pillow and craned my neck to peek at the passenger seated next to me, separated by an empty seat in the triad. The man was youngish, and nice-looking…and staring intently at me. I tried not to blush furiously. After all, I didn’t know how much of my activities were visible, or how much of those activities he had noticed.
I quickly averted my eyes, and began to straighten myself out. I eased my hand and arm from between my legs, and slowly untwisted my cramped body. I straightened my hair and patted down my rumpled clothes, and then half-stood and cleared my throat, indicating to my seat-mate my need to pass by. He quickly – almost too quickly – rose from his seat and moved into the narrow aisle to allow me enough room. I scrambled awkwardly by, my eyes bashfully downcast, and as I slipped into the aisle I couldn’t help but notice the disturbance in his loose pants. Specifically, the sizable bulge in his trousers.
I mumbled a brief thank you and hurried down the aisle to the miniature bathrooms in the rear of the plane. I slipped into an unoccupied stall, engaged the bolt, and sat down with a whomp on the toilet seat. Moments later, I was seized by a fit of uncontrollable giggling, and had to clench my aching sides as they heaved with my laughter. I don’t know whether my seat-mate had noticed me masturbating myself to orgasm as I napped. It was conceivable that he could simply smell my heat. Brian had often told me that when I was horny, it was obvious. I almost hoped that he had witnessed me indulging myself, then I would at least know that he got a good show for his frustration.
I spent the next few minutes putting myself back in order, urinating with much relief, and wiping up some extremely copious juices of another sort from my soaking pussy, adjusting my clothes, combing my hair, and splashing some cold water over my face. In short order, I felt human again, calm and composed, albeit extremely relaxed. I felt good.
I almost whistled as I made my way back to my seat, and was even able to smile pleasantly at my seat-mate – and at his still-obvious erection – as I maneuvered myself back into my seat. I buckled myself in and made myself comfortable for the duration of the flight, which, by my watch, was now only a half-hour short of ending.
I finished my flight much as I had started it: by staring out the window, my thoughts on my impending reunion with Brian, now only minutes away. The man next to me made no attempt at communication, which was just as well. As impressive as his bulge had been, I only had thoughts of Brian as the plane flared in for its landing. A short taxi later, and the population of the plane was concertedly collecting its belongings and filing out into the gate of the airport. I smiled at my seating partner one last time as I stepped into line in front of him, and eagerly debarked the plane.
— End of Part I —
by Holly
