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  • Mile-High Fantasy Ch. 01

Mile-High Fantasy Ch. 01

12

Gretchen boarded the flight quite late, as her flight from Los Angeles was delayed - she found her way into seat 1a. She was grateful to be in first class and almost as soon as she was seated, the flight attendant asked what she might like to drink before take off.

"Just some soda water with lime would hit the spot, thanks," she answered.

"Not much of a drink. No champagne?" he asked.

"No, just the water, thanks. Although, it will be my birthday in a few hours," she added.

The man sitting in 1a looked up when he heard this and said, "happy birthday, early."

"Why, thank you," she paused. "Early."

As always, it took her awhile to get settled, it always did. She could feel the man in 1a looking over.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked.

Gretchen thought she detected a bit of a British accent. Oh, she did love a British accent...she looked at the man for the first time. He was attractive, nice arms. She couldn't see his ring finger just yet but time would tell.

"No, I can handle this just fine on my own, thanks. I've been traveling a bit too much lately. Can't seem to get organized. Sorry if I am bothering you."

"Not at all, take your time." He went back to reading, and Gretchen suddenly felt a bit too American.

After take-off, they began to chat. Gretchen learned that he was living in Philadelphia, part-time, as his daughter lived on the West Coast with his ex-wife. He was exactly one year older than she would be in about 3 hours.

He lives in Philly part time, he is divorced, and he's the perfect age. It was as if she had hit the proverbial jackpot, while in on her short layover in Las Vegas. Happy birthday to me!!!! she thought to herself.

He talked quite a bit about himself, as most men tend to do, keeping her entertained and he didn't ask too much about her, which was ideal, just the way that she wanted it. She had always had a fantasy about meeting someone on a plane and joining the "mile high club," and it occurred to her, as they were talking, that this was the golden opportunity. If she didn't do it now, when would she ever do it? She had been flying frequently in the past couple of years and every man she had been seated next to had been lovely, had even chatted her up a bit but they had all been married. A line she did not cross. She had been divorced for three years and she had never understood why a divorced woman would date a married man. What, exactly, was in it for her?

Gretchen saw this as her chance to have some real fun on her birthday. What the hell, right? She wasn't dating anyone, to speak of, it had been ages since she'd slept with anyone and the man in 1a was the perfect gift to herself.

She avoided giving him any real specifics about her life when he did ask questions, and when he introduced himself, she gave him a fake name. The one she gave to married men, in fact, who were hitting on her.

"Nice to meet you, Andrew, I am Kate, Kate McMillan."

Gretchen had a "life" built up around Kate McMillan that she could rattle off pretty easily. She had done it often enough. Pretty boring stuff, really, nothing traceable and it usually was enough to convince a man that she was real and fairly routine. She would never have told them the truth about her life. She was creative, financially comfortable, traveled extensively and had explored a number of options, sexually, since her divorce.

Gretchen was attractive. She was tall, slender, with long, dark hair that still looked just as it did when she was in high school. She knew that she should work out, but she was happy enough with her body, she was comfortable in its sensuousness, in being a woman and what her body could do, what it was capable of - how it brought pleasure to her and how she now knew it could bring pleasure to others.

She did not share all of her secrets, preferring to keep it all to herself... so, whenever necessary, Gretchen became Kate. And, this, surprisingly, had turned into one of those times. Not that Gretchen didn't find Andrew attractive enough and charming but Gretchen needed Andrew to help her take care of one of her list items.

"You know I feel just terrible that I didn't get you anything for your birthday," he said about a couple of hours after take-off.

"If I had only known."

"As well you should," Gretchen replied, with a sly smile, teasing him back. "We will have to think of some way you can make it up to me."

"Can I buy you an after-dinner drink?" he asked.

"Very generous of you, considering that we are in first class. No thank you. I don't drink on flights. I like to have my wits about me in case the pilot needs me to help him land the plane," she answered.

He looked a little wounded. She needed to bring him around.

"It sounds as though you are on planes even more than I am, with business, flying back and forth across the country to see your daughter. You must meet lots of woman, being a good-looking bachelor such as yourself." She didn't mind turning on the compliments, figuring she wouldn't be seeing him again. After all, this is what men do to bed women every day. Where's the harm, right? What's good for the goose...

"Well, yes, I do meet some women but most hold no interest for me. I've met one or two, however," he answered.

She had wasted enough time with small talk, she knew she had to be bold.

"Have you ever just had an incredibly, you know, intense physical attraction, felt like you had to have her right there, on the plane? I mean, I know you are British and all, and lord knows, you all are nothing if not self-restrained," she laughed...she left the question open a bit, hoping he would pick up the ball.

And?

Hook...line...and sinker!

"Now, you wouldn't be talking about the Mile High Club, would you? What would a nice girl like you know about a thing like that?"

"Specifically? I can't say anything," she answered, trying to be coy. "Well, maybe. I am curious if you have ever had any sexual goings-on while on a flight. And sure, while we are at it, are you a card-carrying member of the mile-high club?"

"No, no, and no." he responded.

"Oh, god, how very disappointing," she replied. "Seriously? How is that even possible?"

"Well, have you ever been in one of those bathrooms? They are hardly what one would call spacious."

"Hey, people must get it done. Otherwise it wouldn't be a 'thing.' It wouldn't be on my list!," she blurted out. She didn't even realize she had said it until he started to smile. Even though as far as he knew, her name was Kate, even though he knew nothing real about her, she was still mortified. She could feel the blood rise up into her face and she knew without a mirror, that she was bright red.

"Tell me more about this list, Kate."

"No need, really, that is just a silly term my friends and I use to remind us of the things that we might like to do someday," she replied. "Don't you have a list of things you would like to do?"

"Yes," Andrew said. "I would like to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro, I would like to go on safari with my daughter in Africa, but I can't say that I ever considered adding sexual exploits to it. Please do tell me more. I am intrigued. What else is on this list."

"Not on your life. I am telling you nothing more about my list," and with that, she used her fingers to make the motion of zipping up her lips and tossing away the key.

Suddenly the mood changed, very quickly.

Andrew gently, but authoritatively, grabbed the back of her head and drew himself close to her ear, "I plan on unzipping those lips tonight on the plane. Make no mistake about it. Consider this my birthday gift to you."

Despite the fact that Gretchen thought that she had been in charge of this little fantasy, that she had planned it, that she was using Andrew, she found herself unable to catch her breath, her throat was dry, she felt limp all over. How the hell did this happen?

Andrew let go of her head and sat back, resting in his seat, as if nothing had just happened and closed his eyes.

Gretchen was sitting in her seat, facing him, with her hair still a bit mussed up from where he had grabbed the back of her head.

He opened one eye and suggested that she close her mouth. He then resumed his "rest." She leaned back in her seat and began to replay the last couple of minutes in her head. She was confused and a little dazed. This was supposed to be her game, her calls, she was the captain of her own fantasy. She heard Andrew tell the flight attendant that he needed a few blankets, that he was a bit cool and that he thought that Gretchen was as well.

"We were going to try to get some sleep. Could you kill the movie in our area so that we could have absolute darkness."

"Certainly, sir. I will be right back with those."

"After you bring our blankets, we'd like to just be left alone."

At this point, Gretchen was almost scared to open her eyes. And more than a little curious. How did he think this would play out? She felt the blanket cover her feet and her legs, and she felt his hands run up under her dress a bit, as he "placed" the blanket over her lap.

He leaned over to her ear again, and said, simply, "Spread your legs for me, love."

She couldn't believe that this was happening, really. It's one thing to have a list, to have a fantasy, another thing, entirely, to live it out.

She spread her legs.

"Wider," Andrew instructed.

She did as she was told. He then placed the second blanket on her and she felt his hands rub over her breasts and pull the fabric of her dress away from them, as he did this.

"Are your nipples exposed?," he asked. "Nod yes or no. Do not open your eyes. Do not speak unless I tell you to speak."

She nodded yes.

"Good girl. I am glad to see you can follow instructions so well."

At this point, Gretchen didn't want to open her eyes. She would just lie there and pretend like the rest of the passengers were not there, she would leave the logistics and any worry of getting caught to him. This was working out even better than she could have hoped. Gretchen could feel his breath in her ear again.

"Are you willing to do exactly as I say, when I say? No arguments, no talking back? I am in charge. Understood."

She answered, "Yes."

"Sadly," he said, "I cannot punish you sufficiently for speaking to me when I had not given you permission. Was I not clear enough with you? I told you to not speak unless I told you to do so. I was specific to only nod. You deserve a spanking but I think that could draw a bit of attention to us before I can give you your birthday gift. I will let that one slide. You will not be given another chance. If there is another infraction, I will stop immediately. Nod if you understand this."

She nodded. Her eyes shut tightly.

"Wonderful. See how easy this is if you simply do what I tell you to do?" Andrew asked.

She could feel the blanket moving and her skirt was being pulled up around her waist but slowly, from underneath her blanket.

His instructions continued: "Do not move your hands, do not open your eyes, do not make a sound."

She felt his left hand run down her right thigh, smoothly but with a certain hunger to it. It made its way back up, lightly over her pussy, then reaching as far as it could down her left leg. She tried to shift in her seat so that he could touch more of her. His hand stopped moving on her. "I will instruct you. Do not move, do not speak, do not so much as think too loudly, unless I instruct you to do so. Clear?"

She stopped shifting. He continued to feel his way around her thighs, working his way towards her pussy, then finding other areas, less wanting, to explore. He tickled and he teased and he used his fingers in ways that she didn't know a man could outside of her body...and just when she didn't think she could take it much longer, she felt his fingers on her nipples - not caressing, but twisting and pulling, then caressing. A kind of back and forth - pain, then pleasure - torture, then soothing...this was a game with which he must be intimately familiar, she thought.

What he was not familiar with, however, was how wet she became when her nipples were touched and what he was doing was overwhelming her cunt. She could feel it tightening and she knew that she would soon be overflowing, that soon she would feel her juices dribbling out of her pussy and down the crack of her ass. She was so grateful that she was still wearing her underwear.

Almost as if he could read her mind, he spoke again.

"Remove your panties. Slowly, just slide them down off your ass and pussy. They don't need to come all the way off. Do not draw attention to yourself. Try to look as if you are just rearranging yourself. That's it...good girl."

He then put his mouth directly on her ear, she could feel the warm moisture of his breath. "I can tell that you are ready for my fingers to be inside your cunt. Do you know how? Because I can smell you from here, that is how turned on I have gotten you. Do you think the other passengers know? Do you think the man behind you, in 2a can smell you, smell what is dripping out of your pussy, right now, probably running onto the seat. Do you think that he has an erection? Maybe he knows what we are doing, wishes to god that he could be doing the same thing, wishes his fingers were inside you. I bet he would love to join the fun. Or, the man beside me in 1c. I saw him glance over when I was twisting your nipple. Your hips rose up, ever-so-slightly, and I almost had to stop but I decided it would be too cruel....he looked over here and gave me a little smile. He knows."

He went on, teasing her, instructing her. "Raise your ass off the seat for me, love, just a bit, so that I can get my hand underneath you. Yes, just like that."

His hand went immediately to her pussy and found her soaking wet. His fingers slid inside her, easily, first two, then three. Gretchen would have been embarrassed that she was so wet, so slick, but she was too intent on not crying out, on not raising her hips off the seat.

Andrew continued, torturing her, "All of the men know what I am doing to you, they all know that my fingers are in your pussy right now and that you are just dying to be fucked. They are all probably hoping that I do stop because then they would have a chance, a turn to take you into the bathroom and shove their big, hard cocks up your wet pussy. Does that excite you? The thought of not just me, but others around us, fucking you as well? Do you like the thought of me sharing you with other men?"

"Answer me! I asked you a question," he demanded.

She nodded, rather demurely, yes. She felt ashamed but so much more excited than she could ever remember being. This man, this stranger, this person she had met just hours before...someone who knew nothing about her, knew so much about her, her fantasies, what she thought about when she was alone at night, when her fingers found their way to her cunt, when the pressure was too much and she had to relieve herself, without a man. These were her thoughts. How did he know these things? How did he know that she always dreamed of being controlled, of being used, of being fucked by men she didn't know and didn't care to know? She almost came on his fingers, right there, his hot breath in her ear, the man with the British accent and authoritative tone, describing her every fantasy back to her.

He must have sensed this, he must have felt the muscles inside pussy begin to tense and shudder because he suddenly stopped, his fingers ceased working their magic, and he said, "Not so fast, love, we haven't even joined the club yet."

She tried to breathe through her disappointment, tried to regulate her breathing and her heartbeat again.

"Stroke my cock," Andrew said.

"Are you crazy," she answered, opening her eyes and looking at him, then she realized that she had spoken, she had broken the rules.

It was too late. She saw the flash of anger in his eyes. He looked around before he grabbed her head again, by the hair, making her face him, placing his mouth next to her ear. He whispered into her ear, harshly and very sternly. "What you deserve and what you are getting are two very different things. If we were anywhere else, you would be over my knee getting a spanking that you would not forget for many days. Every time you sat down, you would be reminded of something which you cannot seem to remember for three minutes up here in the air. You would have no trouble recalling your infraction every time you sat down - and occasionally when you moved just so. Your ass would be so red that it would be difficult for me not to fuck you right then and there. It is also your birthday and knowing that this is your first time being dominated, I am giving you some leeway. I will not be nearly so kind next time. It is sad that this has not happened sooner to you. Your body obviously responds to it, your mind appreciates it, you are too bright and too curious to have made it this far in life without someone caring more about you. You have deserved better than what you have been getting. You deserve the attention, the care, the protection that only a dominant can give his submissive, but I will save that discussion for another time."

Andrew continued: "Right now, right here, you are going to stroke my cock. You are going to stroke my balls. Do not worry about getting caught. I have that covered. It is up to me, your protector, your guardian, to make sure that you are safe. Can you trust me? Will you trust me? Nod yes or no."

She nodded yes. He did not yet release his hold on her head.

"And, Kate, I want you to think about something, after this is all over and I have given you what you wanted. I want you to ask yourself if you really have ever trusted anyone? Have you ever really trusted a man to protect you, to take care of you? Now, Kate, you may begin."

He let go of her rather roughly, but she had to admit that she had never, ever been so turned on in her life. She was ready to stroke his cock, suck it, and fuck it. She was ready to let the man in 2a and the man in 1c fuck her, here or anywhere else. God, she was so hot, so wet. She couldn't recall ever feeling this sexy, this alive.

She believed, at that moment, that she could and would do whatever this man, this man in 1b, told her to do. Clearly, she had lost her mind up here in the clouds. She reached over, under the blankets and began to stroke his cock. It wasn't easy through his jeans but she could tell that he was well-endowed, thank god. She could tell as it curved around and down his leg a bit.

"Take my cock out of my pants."

She unfastened his belt buckle, slowly, watching his face. She was enjoying this. Here, she was, back in charge. As with any man, you hold their cock and you have their full, undivided attention. So simple, really. She slowly, painfully and much more deliberately than she needed to, unbuttoned his jeans and began to unzip his pants.

"Je-sus! We haven't got all night," he said, angrily, knowing that she was trying to take back the reins.

He reached down and freed his cock from his jeans and it popped out and straight up. While she was pleased to see what she had to work with, he had the power again. He had a beautiful penis and she looked forward to doing with it, whatever he instructed, however he instructed.

She began to stroke it, squeezing gently as she worked her way up to the head, guiding her hand around it, twisting, trying to create different sensations, to arouse him. Gretchen used her hand to form a bit of a vacuum seal around it, pushing down on the base, causing it to stand straight up. She couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. She could imagine what the blanket must look like - like a man was getting a hand job from the woman next to him, pretty simple.

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