Sex on the plane
- 1 year ago
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Sex On A Plane free porn video
The "mile high club" is kind of a misnomer. The average cruising altitude of an airplane is 35,000 feet. Calling it the "mile high club" is really understating the deed. The Six Mile High Club. Now that's more like it. It takes a lot of work to pull off successful mid-air copulation: Planning, skill, grace, cunning, and most of all: discreteness. Unfortunately, I have none of these qualities. Fortunately, I was to drunk to know that before the flight.
The plane was Sydney, Australia bound. A fifteen hour flight. It was my first time flying on a 747, and as soon as we boarded I was in love. It made the last plane I flew in seem like a folded up soda can. This new, glorious plane though; it was incredible. It had massive seats and, as it turned out, I was sitting right next to the bathroom. God knows I'm going to need that; I planned on getting shit-faced drunk and watching whatever dodgy movie came on my nifty little T.V. screen. I put my carry-on away and sat, watching everyone shuffle onto the plane and struggling to put their bags in their respective carriers.
There's something you should know about me... I'm a people watcher. Planes and airports are the prime people watching facilities. You can check out all sorts of folks. Attractive men, and women, less attractive men and women, families eight strong with 6 screaming children, the flight attendant with some ambiguous sexuality between straight and gay, and then her.
A stunning people-watching specimen. I observed her closely. Probably too closely in retrospect. She waddled onto the plane, smashed between a large man holding nothing but a McDonald's bag, whom I assumed I would be sitting next to, and an even larger woman who I assume was his wife because she was yelling over the girl at the large man. The girl was careful not to come into contact with the large woman's ass, and the large man's stomach. A delicate dance. The large people found their seats and placed themselves there. The girl kept walking towards me.
My heart was pounding. Was it possible that the stars would align and she would sit next to.... nope. She strolled straight past me. "Damn," I thought as I continued to watch people file through the door. A few more cute girls found their spots around.
The thing I love about planes is that everyone is dressed to travel, and I love that look on people. Especially because yoga pants are comfortable, and women love wearing them. I couldn't help but stare as several fit women walked past my isle seat, with their hips swaying in just the best way. It was at that moment someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to face the person behind me. Oh, Jesus. It was her. Her large, white sweater was pulled down past her ass, covering her tiny shorts, but only just. Her white bra was barely visible through her top; more of an outline than real definition. Her hair, red, was pulled into a lazy pony tail and glasses sat on the end of her nose. My eyes followed the curve of her neck down her collar bone, over her boobs and hips down to her knees. My gaze darted back up to her face. She appeared to be waiting for a response. Oh, shit! She asked me question! I fought desperately for an answer to a question I did not hear.
"I said, can I have the window seat?" she asked, apparently again, and looking slightly more irritated than before.
Sweet Mother of God, she had an Australian accent. As I live and breath...
"Uh-uh, yeah. Sure," I said, probably smoothly, but I don't remember.
I started to get up to let her in, but she was in a rush to get out of the isle and let the growing line of passengers take their seat. She lifted her leg and gently stepped over me, and I attempted to carefully watch her with out her noticing me. I succeeded in getting a small glimmer of her shorts. Black, tight, probably some sort of work out shorts. Whatever it was, it turned me on. As she side stepped to her seat, I also got a hint of the shape of her ass. She was fit, obviously cared about her body, and it had me going.
I crossed my legs to hide the growing tension in my shorts. A shiver ran down my spine. Nearing the end of the line of passengers, the flight attendant told us all that the flight was relatively empty, and we would have space to stretch out in our seats. That was amazing news to me. I looked over to she how the girl was reacting to the news. She only stared out the window, clutching her purse in her lap. I took the opportunity to use the seat between us to place my variety of electronic devices. Really a metaphor for my life, but I digress. I buckled myself back in my seat and felt the plane lurch backward.
The lights from the nighttime runway streaked past her window. She stared at them intensely, seemingly mesmerized; obviously pondering some life event, questions about the universe, or perhaps how good I was in bed. Or maybe not, who knows. Either way, the plane left the ground, and her grip on the arm rest loosened. I day dreamed that she was squeezing my hand instead.
I ran through a thousand different conversations I could start with her, but was having trouble working up the courage to speak. I realized after some time that I was looking directly at her, then looking away, then looking back, then away. Then I realized that she was looking at me, with an eyebrow raised.
"I um... so, what are you doing in Sydney?" I stammered.
"I live there," Her words rolled off her tongue in much the same way rapids roll of rocks. She pulled her glasses off and tucked them into her purse.
"Oh, cool. That makes sense." I knew I had to keep the conversation going. I couldn't keep my mind off her.
"Do you work?" I asked.
"Yeah," She answered lazily.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a legal consultant." Her gaze went back to the window.
"You don't seem to excited about it."
She looked back at me, frowning.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to, like, stir anything up."
"I'm just not looking forward to being home," she seemed sad, and I really, really meant to seem sympathetic, but her cleavage was drawing my gaze directly downward.
"Why?" I tried to retract my question, thinking that it was much to forward.
"I was just feeling restless. I had to go... somewhere. I chose the States." She shrugged.
"Have fun?"
"Too much fun, as it turned out."
"Impossible. Unless.. you got into trouble?"
"Yeah." She looked back out the window.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..." She told me a long story, about meeting a bunch of her "Yank friends", her words, at a party in a small college town in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. She got wasted and ended up fucking several of the guys, and girls, at the party.
"How do you mean 'several'?" I asked, leaning toward her.
"I mean, I was sitting on a friend's lap, and someone dared me to make out with her, and we did... she..."
I was staring at her, wide eyed and stunned. My head was only held up by my hand, but eventually I couldn't pay attention to my own body parts any longer and my hand slipped from under my chin and my head slammed forward into my armrest.
It broke her concentration and she stopped her story.
"Anyway... I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this."
"No, no. It's um..."
"Yeah, I'm stopping now." She looked back out the window. Her hand was lightly stroked her own leg. My dick was ready to strong arm its way out of my shorts and clock my in the chin.
"That's trouble, though? Seems like a blast!" I said, doing my best to reignite the conversation.
"Only when my Fiancé found out..."
"Oh," I said. "Gotcha."
She stopped stroking her leg. She pulled a gold ring out of her purse and looked at it carefully in her hand.
"The weird part," she added, "is that I don't really feel that bad about it. I was bored of him, but I didn't have the heart to tell..."
The flight attendant butted in.
"Drink?" the attendant asked hopefully.
"Oh, yeah. Please. Jack and Coke?" I asked, matching her hopefulness.
"Yes, sir. You, ma'am?"
"Same for me please!" she said with an adorable smile.
"Yes, ma'am."
We sat and drank, and drank, and drank. At some point the flight attendant stopped giving us drinks, but I don't remember when. I'm reasonably sure we kept ordering them, but the attendant stopped bringing them. Clever tactic actually.
After a few drinks I moved my junk from the middle seat into my isle seat, and sat on the chair next to her. After a couple more, we moved the arm rest up and she was leaning against me. My arm was around her waist, lightly stroking her hips. I was feeling the waist line of her tiny shorts. In one stroke of my fingers, I could feel both the top of her shorts, and the bottom. She sat up a bit. "Jesus I have to pee."
She stood up and climbed over me again. She was just as graceful tipsy as sober. This time though, she brushed her hand over my cock as she moved past. She went across the isle into the bathroom and switched the handle to occupied.I could hardly contain myself. Was that seriously happening to me? For a few seconds I was sure I was going to wake up in the airport gate, with a huge boner and possibly covered in jizz.
She came back from the bathroom and again began to move over me. Instead of getting all the way across, she pushed a button to lean my seat back, and cuddled next to me in the chair. Her head lay in my chest and she fitted her legs into mine. I put my arms around her. She took one of my hands and placed a piece of fabric in my palm and closed my hand around it. Upon further inspection of the cloth, I realized it was her shorts.
I could feel my heart beating in my feet. My hypothesis was confirmed when I slid my hand up her leg and felt only skin leading to her back. I moved my hand back down to her tight ass, and gently pulled her closer to me. She grabbed my dick, startling me. I jumped. She laughed at me, as is the natural order of things. Her hand carefully pulled my cock out of my shorts, between our two bodies. I felt the warmth of her legs touch the tip of my dick. She pulled herself closer to me and slid my dick into her.
We laid still, holding each other, only the slight gyration of her hips could give us away. People went in and out of the bathroom across the isle, causing us to pause our careful sexual adventure. I was on the verge of popping off into her at any second, but the gentle nature of the act helped me keep control. After what seemed like hours of pseudo-fucking, she whispered into my ear.
"We have to finish this in the bathroom," she pulled my cock out of her and I shivered.
"But won't everyone know exactly what's happening?" I slipped my dick into the waist of my shorts.
"Just wait a second after I go in, then follow," She got up, and pulled her sweater down over her dripping pussy.
She went into the bathroom, and flipped the handle again. I waited patiently for the handle to go back to green. Eventually it did, and I slipped into the bathroom with all the grace of a boulder rolling through a glass factory. She sat on the toilet in the bathroom. The bathroom was hardly big enough for one person, so having two of us in there was about as comfortable as trying to fuck in a phone booth.
I clumsily moved to sit on the toilet and she squeezed past to stand above me. She pulled her sweater up above her waist. A thin red line of hair streaked above her pussy. Her stomach was defined beautifully with muscle. She lowered herself slowly onto my cock. I braced my feet against the door and the sink. Her eyes closed as she sank onto me. She tilted her head back.
I pushed her shirt up above her tits. Her white bra seemed dedicated to hold back her amazing tits. I fixed that. I pulled it up along with her sweater, releasing her boobs to their natural position. As she slid up and down on me, I was desperately searching with my hand for something to grip on to. My head was slightly taping the wall behind me. I was sure everyone on the plane was completely aware of the situation in the bathroom.
Regardless of the awareness level of my fellow passengers, we continued. She got up and pulled me by the hand. I turned her toward the sink and position myself behind her. She lifted her leg and I pushed myself into her. I thrust into her. She closed her eyes and her cheek pressed against the mirror. I stroked her side and ran my hand up to her breast. I squeezed gently and felt them bounce as I thrust into her. Finally I felt it coming.
I shook suddenly. I pulled my cock out of her pussy and stroked it until I laid strings of cum onto her ass cheeks. She moaned softly and with on hand, rubber my cum around on her ass, and with the other hand, rubbed her pussy. Being the chivalrous man that I am, I stood over her and put a hand between her legs. She graciously guided my hands to her clit, and I vigorously rubbed her.
She whispered, "Don't you fucking stop." After a few more directions, we achieved climax, and believe me when I say it was impressive. She turned and pulled me toward her. She gripped my shirt and wrapped her legs around me. She shook, grabbing desperately for something to stabilize herself. We both jumped at a pounding on the doors.
"Sir? Sir, is everything alright?" a flight attendant asked.
"Yeah... yeah it's fine. Just... You know how Taco Bell is," I nervously replied.
We wiped the all the cum away and hurriedly arranged ourselves and got dressed as fast as we could. We took a deep breath in unison, and I opened the door. I was met by a man wearing a badge under his jacket.
He introduced himself as Officer Peterson, and escorted me to the seat next to him on the plane. Nice guy. People were staring at me on the walk to the seat. A guy gave me a huge thumbs up with a smile to match. I gestured back to him, and looked over my shoulder to the girl sitting back in her seat, with the Flight Attendant in tow.
My things were already in the seat. I plopped in the seat and Officer Ruins-All-The-Fun told me I wouldn't be charged for anything, but I'd remain under his watch for the rest of the trip. I tried to look for her when the plane finally landed, but no luck.
I was upset that I didn't even have the foresight to figure out her name. I picked up my luggage and, hands in my pockets, waited by the curb for my ride to get me. I felt something in my left pocket. I pulled out a piece of paper. It bared her name and phone number. Seems like Sydney may be a more exciting trip than I expected.
The plane was Sydney, Australia bound. A fifteen hour flight. It was my first time flying on a 747, and as soon as we boarded I was in love. It made the last plane I flew in seem like a folded up soda can. This new, glorious plane though; it was incredible. It had massive seats and, as it turned out, I was sitting right next to the bathroom. God knows I'm going to need that; I planned on getting shit-faced drunk and watching whatever dodgy movie came on my nifty little T.V. screen. I put my carry-on away and sat, watching everyone shuffle onto the plane and struggling to put their bags in their respective carriers.
There's something you should know about me... I'm a people watcher. Planes and airports are the prime people watching facilities. You can check out all sorts of folks. Attractive men, and women, less attractive men and women, families eight strong with 6 screaming children, the flight attendant with some ambiguous sexuality between straight and gay, and then her.
A stunning people-watching specimen. I observed her closely. Probably too closely in retrospect. She waddled onto the plane, smashed between a large man holding nothing but a McDonald's bag, whom I assumed I would be sitting next to, and an even larger woman who I assume was his wife because she was yelling over the girl at the large man. The girl was careful not to come into contact with the large woman's ass, and the large man's stomach. A delicate dance. The large people found their seats and placed themselves there. The girl kept walking towards me.
My heart was pounding. Was it possible that the stars would align and she would sit next to.... nope. She strolled straight past me. "Damn," I thought as I continued to watch people file through the door. A few more cute girls found their spots around.
The thing I love about planes is that everyone is dressed to travel, and I love that look on people. Especially because yoga pants are comfortable, and women love wearing them. I couldn't help but stare as several fit women walked past my isle seat, with their hips swaying in just the best way. It was at that moment someone tapped my shoulder.
I turned to face the person behind me. Oh, Jesus. It was her. Her large, white sweater was pulled down past her ass, covering her tiny shorts, but only just. Her white bra was barely visible through her top; more of an outline than real definition. Her hair, red, was pulled into a lazy pony tail and glasses sat on the end of her nose. My eyes followed the curve of her neck down her collar bone, over her boobs and hips down to her knees. My gaze darted back up to her face. She appeared to be waiting for a response. Oh, shit! She asked me question! I fought desperately for an answer to a question I did not hear.
"I said, can I have the window seat?" she asked, apparently again, and looking slightly more irritated than before.
Sweet Mother of God, she had an Australian accent. As I live and breath...
"Uh-uh, yeah. Sure," I said, probably smoothly, but I don't remember.
I started to get up to let her in, but she was in a rush to get out of the isle and let the growing line of passengers take their seat. She lifted her leg and gently stepped over me, and I attempted to carefully watch her with out her noticing me. I succeeded in getting a small glimmer of her shorts. Black, tight, probably some sort of work out shorts. Whatever it was, it turned me on. As she side stepped to her seat, I also got a hint of the shape of her ass. She was fit, obviously cared about her body, and it had me going.
I crossed my legs to hide the growing tension in my shorts. A shiver ran down my spine. Nearing the end of the line of passengers, the flight attendant told us all that the flight was relatively empty, and we would have space to stretch out in our seats. That was amazing news to me. I looked over to she how the girl was reacting to the news. She only stared out the window, clutching her purse in her lap. I took the opportunity to use the seat between us to place my variety of electronic devices. Really a metaphor for my life, but I digress. I buckled myself back in my seat and felt the plane lurch backward.
The lights from the nighttime runway streaked past her window. She stared at them intensely, seemingly mesmerized; obviously pondering some life event, questions about the universe, or perhaps how good I was in bed. Or maybe not, who knows. Either way, the plane left the ground, and her grip on the arm rest loosened. I day dreamed that she was squeezing my hand instead.
I ran through a thousand different conversations I could start with her, but was having trouble working up the courage to speak. I realized after some time that I was looking directly at her, then looking away, then looking back, then away. Then I realized that she was looking at me, with an eyebrow raised.
"I um... so, what are you doing in Sydney?" I stammered.
"I live there," Her words rolled off her tongue in much the same way rapids roll of rocks. She pulled her glasses off and tucked them into her purse.
"Oh, cool. That makes sense." I knew I had to keep the conversation going. I couldn't keep my mind off her.
"Do you work?" I asked.
"Yeah," She answered lazily.
"What do you do?"
"I'm a legal consultant." Her gaze went back to the window.
"You don't seem to excited about it."
She looked back at me, frowning.
"Sorry," I said sheepishly. "I didn't mean to, like, stir anything up."
"I'm just not looking forward to being home," she seemed sad, and I really, really meant to seem sympathetic, but her cleavage was drawing my gaze directly downward.
"Why?" I tried to retract my question, thinking that it was much to forward.
"I was just feeling restless. I had to go... somewhere. I chose the States." She shrugged.
"Have fun?"
"Too much fun, as it turned out."
"Impossible. Unless.. you got into trouble?"
"Yeah." She looked back out the window.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know why I'm telling you this, but..." She told me a long story, about meeting a bunch of her "Yank friends", her words, at a party in a small college town in the middle of Nowhere, Texas. She got wasted and ended up fucking several of the guys, and girls, at the party.
"How do you mean 'several'?" I asked, leaning toward her.
"I mean, I was sitting on a friend's lap, and someone dared me to make out with her, and we did... she..."
I was staring at her, wide eyed and stunned. My head was only held up by my hand, but eventually I couldn't pay attention to my own body parts any longer and my hand slipped from under my chin and my head slammed forward into my armrest.
It broke her concentration and she stopped her story.
"Anyway... I don't even know why I'm telling you any of this."
"No, no. It's um..."
"Yeah, I'm stopping now." She looked back out the window. Her hand was lightly stroked her own leg. My dick was ready to strong arm its way out of my shorts and clock my in the chin.
"That's trouble, though? Seems like a blast!" I said, doing my best to reignite the conversation.
"Only when my Fiancé found out..."
"Oh," I said. "Gotcha."
She stopped stroking her leg. She pulled a gold ring out of her purse and looked at it carefully in her hand.
"The weird part," she added, "is that I don't really feel that bad about it. I was bored of him, but I didn't have the heart to tell..."
The flight attendant butted in.
"Drink?" the attendant asked hopefully.
"Oh, yeah. Please. Jack and Coke?" I asked, matching her hopefulness.
"Yes, sir. You, ma'am?"
"Same for me please!" she said with an adorable smile.
"Yes, ma'am."
We sat and drank, and drank, and drank. At some point the flight attendant stopped giving us drinks, but I don't remember when. I'm reasonably sure we kept ordering them, but the attendant stopped bringing them. Clever tactic actually.
After a few drinks I moved my junk from the middle seat into my isle seat, and sat on the chair next to her. After a couple more, we moved the arm rest up and she was leaning against me. My arm was around her waist, lightly stroking her hips. I was feeling the waist line of her tiny shorts. In one stroke of my fingers, I could feel both the top of her shorts, and the bottom. She sat up a bit. "Jesus I have to pee."
She stood up and climbed over me again. She was just as graceful tipsy as sober. This time though, she brushed her hand over my cock as she moved past. She went across the isle into the bathroom and switched the handle to occupied.I could hardly contain myself. Was that seriously happening to me? For a few seconds I was sure I was going to wake up in the airport gate, with a huge boner and possibly covered in jizz.
She came back from the bathroom and again began to move over me. Instead of getting all the way across, she pushed a button to lean my seat back, and cuddled next to me in the chair. Her head lay in my chest and she fitted her legs into mine. I put my arms around her. She took one of my hands and placed a piece of fabric in my palm and closed my hand around it. Upon further inspection of the cloth, I realized it was her shorts.
I could feel my heart beating in my feet. My hypothesis was confirmed when I slid my hand up her leg and felt only skin leading to her back. I moved my hand back down to her tight ass, and gently pulled her closer to me. She grabbed my dick, startling me. I jumped. She laughed at me, as is the natural order of things. Her hand carefully pulled my cock out of my shorts, between our two bodies. I felt the warmth of her legs touch the tip of my dick. She pulled herself closer to me and slid my dick into her.
We laid still, holding each other, only the slight gyration of her hips could give us away. People went in and out of the bathroom across the isle, causing us to pause our careful sexual adventure. I was on the verge of popping off into her at any second, but the gentle nature of the act helped me keep control. After what seemed like hours of pseudo-fucking, she whispered into my ear.
"We have to finish this in the bathroom," she pulled my cock out of her and I shivered.
"But won't everyone know exactly what's happening?" I slipped my dick into the waist of my shorts.
"Just wait a second after I go in, then follow," She got up, and pulled her sweater down over her dripping pussy.
She went into the bathroom, and flipped the handle again. I waited patiently for the handle to go back to green. Eventually it did, and I slipped into the bathroom with all the grace of a boulder rolling through a glass factory. She sat on the toilet in the bathroom. The bathroom was hardly big enough for one person, so having two of us in there was about as comfortable as trying to fuck in a phone booth.
I clumsily moved to sit on the toilet and she squeezed past to stand above me. She pulled her sweater up above her waist. A thin red line of hair streaked above her pussy. Her stomach was defined beautifully with muscle. She lowered herself slowly onto my cock. I braced my feet against the door and the sink. Her eyes closed as she sank onto me. She tilted her head back.
I pushed her shirt up above her tits. Her white bra seemed dedicated to hold back her amazing tits. I fixed that. I pulled it up along with her sweater, releasing her boobs to their natural position. As she slid up and down on me, I was desperately searching with my hand for something to grip on to. My head was slightly taping the wall behind me. I was sure everyone on the plane was completely aware of the situation in the bathroom.
Regardless of the awareness level of my fellow passengers, we continued. She got up and pulled me by the hand. I turned her toward the sink and position myself behind her. She lifted her leg and I pushed myself into her. I thrust into her. She closed her eyes and her cheek pressed against the mirror. I stroked her side and ran my hand up to her breast. I squeezed gently and felt them bounce as I thrust into her. Finally I felt it coming.
I shook suddenly. I pulled my cock out of her pussy and stroked it until I laid strings of cum onto her ass cheeks. She moaned softly and with on hand, rubber my cum around on her ass, and with the other hand, rubbed her pussy. Being the chivalrous man that I am, I stood over her and put a hand between her legs. She graciously guided my hands to her clit, and I vigorously rubbed her.
She whispered, "Don't you fucking stop." After a few more directions, we achieved climax, and believe me when I say it was impressive. She turned and pulled me toward her. She gripped my shirt and wrapped her legs around me. She shook, grabbing desperately for something to stabilize herself. We both jumped at a pounding on the doors.
"Sir? Sir, is everything alright?" a flight attendant asked.
"Yeah... yeah it's fine. Just... You know how Taco Bell is," I nervously replied.
We wiped the all the cum away and hurriedly arranged ourselves and got dressed as fast as we could. We took a deep breath in unison, and I opened the door. I was met by a man wearing a badge under his jacket.
He introduced himself as Officer Peterson, and escorted me to the seat next to him on the plane. Nice guy. People were staring at me on the walk to the seat. A guy gave me a huge thumbs up with a smile to match. I gestured back to him, and looked over my shoulder to the girl sitting back in her seat, with the Flight Attendant in tow.
My things were already in the seat. I plopped in the seat and Officer Ruins-All-The-Fun told me I wouldn't be charged for anything, but I'd remain under his watch for the rest of the trip. I tried to look for her when the plane finally landed, but no luck.
I was upset that I didn't even have the foresight to figure out her name. I picked up my luggage and, hands in my pockets, waited by the curb for my ride to get me. I felt something in my left pocket. I pulled out a piece of paper. It bared her name and phone number. Seems like Sydney may be a more exciting trip than I expected.
Charlize
- 16.07.2022
- 14
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- Category:
- Humor
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