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Fly the Friendly Skies

Category: Mature
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I was beat. The plane had been delayed, the luggage lost and the boarding passengers rude and hoity. The trip was suppose to be a time for getting away, for forgetting about my present life for a little while and fly head first into a week of relaxation, fun and adventure.

I had never left the kids and husband for longer than a weekend. I told my husband that one day, when the kids were up there in age, I would be the one leaving for awhile and would be pampering myself because nobody else would. He laughed then and said “sure hon, whatever makes ya happy”.

The time had come.

He had taken all the hunting and fishing adventures with his cronies and NOW it was my turn.

He look frazzled already when I left him as I boarded my plane. He could handle it, I knew. The softball and baseball game juggling act, the make-up piano lessons from this winter, the taking care of in-laws and out-laws, the cooking, picking up and lets not forget the sibling rivalry.

AHhhhhhhh, Calgon take me away.

I just grinned to myself as I took my seat and the airliner’s door closed. I put my head back and let out a big breathe of air as the attendant told everyone about the oxygen masks, the floatation devices and we were off and heading into the deep blue yonder.

Hallejujah, I’d made it out without a scrape on me! It was just beginning and I was more than ready.

I had made my decision to vacation on a mountain top-high for this little time away; next time I would consider a little island in the sun possibly. The list was endless. This time I felt like country air, green green meadows and warm temperatures. I had decided to fly this time to my cousin’s cabin in the Black Hills of South Dakota and I would reach my destination in approximately an hour, since I had just switched planes in Salt Lake City.

“Are you from South Dakota?” I heard the gentleman ask me who had sat next to me just a few minutes earlier.

“No”, I replied as I lifted one eyelid that was already shut.

My first reaction was, “do not bug me! I am free, I am free, I am free at last!!” But I peeked and since I love to visit and chat; I sat up and asked…”do people really admit they’re from South Dakota?” I teased.

“I do not know, do they?” he chuckled. “Kind of a smart-mouth, aren’t you?” he shot back at me with a wink. This was going to be fun, I thought to myself. I like bantering back and forth with men and using my brain for comebacks, and I loved it when the guy could keep up with me and give as good as he got. That seemed rare in most men.

“Moi?” I asked him, putting my hand to my chest in question. I had decided on wearing a daring low cut knit top and my favorite underwire bra that shoved my ample bodacious tata’s into my chin practically.

I was a grown, mature, curvaceous woman and was usually very modest. I am sure my husband questioned my attire today, but then again, it probably went right over his head at what I was wearing when I boarded the plane: a short skirt with sandals and no underwear today. I had thrown caution to the wind which seemed appropriate for flying and left my panties off. Who was going to know anyway? I had just shaved my snatch so my mons was smooth as a baby’s behind and around the pussy lips and you could see the pink, seductive flesh as it gave way to my ever-wet slit.

“Hi, I’m Sidda” I said as I reached out and shook his hand and in return I received one shockingly gorgeous smile as he shook mine. The smile had the warmth of the afternoon sun setting over the horizon.

“I live in South Dakota, and I admit it” he mused as he shook my hand and I laughed slightly; flirtatiously I slugging him lightly on the bicep. “I am pleased to meet you Sidda. You can just call me Wade, as he held onto my hand a little longer than needed.

“Nice to meet you ‘just’ Wade,” I said as I jokingly asked for my hand back with a curious expression that crossed my face.

I had let my skirt ride up a little more after I overly exaggerated trying to get my hand free of his. He did not miss a beat as his eyes shot straight to the upper part of my creamy white, exposed big girl thigh. I let him look, spreading my legs a little further, but not overly too much. Thinking to myself, “WHAT had gotten into me? I had not a clue; I did know that I could not stop it, come hell or high water. I was free, I was on my own and my mega need for this trip was surfacing, and a need for something more.”

He daringly moved a finger down to the hem of my skirt and flipped the hem slightly. His other fingers glazed my thigh as I placed my finger on top of his and pushed them both down. I felt his hand flatten on my thigh and rest in a slow-motioned subconscious caress of my fleshy thigh. I let him embrace me while he seemed lost in his own thoughts. Who was I to ask someone what the hell he doing cuddling my thigh, or to remove his hand from my creamy, in-need-of-caressing thigh?

“You know Sidda, there are very few women out there with your stature and confidence and that do not let it bother them.” I could not believe he was going “there”. I looked at him and just let him carry out his thoughts that he obviously was having a hard time reciting to me. “I have always been attracted to large women and I hope this does not appear too forward of me?”

I smiled willing to accept this initiation into the topic of my being a larger plus size woman. “No, not at all,” I said, “I appreciate your compliment and I do not think it is too forward at all, I enjoy openness and honesty. “Your compliment makes me feel real warm and comfortable,” I mused. Little did he know how warm I was feeling or for that matter, how long I had felt uncomfortable with my size. Nor how in my latter years I had matured enough to know that this is me; what you see is what you get.

I had not noticed, but suddenly I became very aware of his hand caressing me more and more and my response was to slowly and willingly open my thighs a little bit more to his touch. He looked at me once for the word ‘Stop’, but it did not escape my lips; if anything my legs were welcoming him between their radiant vortex. “Wade, I know very well what you are doing and I am not going to tell you to stop, it feels too wonderful”.

“Good” was all he said as he inched my skirt up higher. His fingers were gliding up my thigh and tipping inwardly. It was driving me wildly to distraction as they inched their way up further and I did nothing to stop it. My flesh was on fire as I felt his fingertips dance seductively over my willing flesh as inner warmth spread its little digits of madness.

Pretty soon, I felt his hot little fingertips graze my trimmed mons and he was straining just his tips to touch me at my core. This was foreplay in its finest hour. All I could think right then was how foreplay was highly underrated; both of us were so hot that nothing could have stopped us; except the flight attendant coming towards us. Throwing his jacket across our laps and turning slightly on his left side toward me, his hand did not move and was protected by the jacket. The flight attendant asked us our drink choices and left us with our little packet of peanuts as well. His fingers pressed me hard. He saw my eyes close partially in a daze of sexual torture.

I moaned in a barely audible tone as his fingers found my bare pink pussy slit and they moved slightly, zeroing in immediately to my swollen clit again. HOW I wanted to shove his fingers inside of me, deep and then hump his hand. I chose to refrain, but barely, as I reflected how I knew nothing of this man whose fingers were caressing me!!!

I could not really believe what was happening. I questioned; what were we, 40,000 feet above sea level? I had no clue as to the altitude a plane could fly. Here I was however, flying over Denver into western South Dakota; a stranger’s fingers up my skirt; it defied most fantasies! He was, at this very second, seeking entry into my cream- filled pussy.

GAWDDDDDDDDDDDDDD YES my insides screamed as I felt him touch my liquid silver! GAWDDDDDDDD YESSSSSSSSSS my bedroom eyes stated as I spread wider to give him full access. My heart was in my throat; a soft purr escaped my lips as I looked fully at him. He could see the flush as it rose from my heaving bare chest to my neck and to my cheeks. My face and body were on fire; I could not have stopped even if I had wanted to stop.

I had never cheated on my husband. I had always believed it wrong and something one just did not do. However, I had it these past few years always doing for others and getting very little in return. My husband had become a workaholic and I had become a statistic; a statistic of a woman who wanted more and the husband did not. For years I had begged him to give me “more.” I was a lustful wench of Viking descent and I needed a great deal more to be satisfied; A LOT MORE. He would just laugh and he simply told me that what he was has given, was all he had to give.

I had begun dabbling on the net and had a great friend who would phone with me climaxing in my ear and tickling them with his words. He would give me what I needed emotionally through his verbal libido. Yet, physically, I still had to masturbate several times a week to relieve my need. I would finger fuck myself in the bathroom at work; I would rub hard against my jeans in the van while driving; I would phone my friend or he phone me as I laid naked on my bed at various times during the day with the phone cradled in my ear while I worked my vibrator between my creamy thighs. Many times I would shove the mic into my big girl box and let him hear the roar of the vibrator and my flowing honey and the sounds it all combined to make. I loved the feel of my big latex sheath covering the vibration mechanism. I loved the feel as my cunt ate the length, causing it to disappear. I could make myself cum like 4-5 times with it in a row, or I could take time and just play with my nob when I had the time in a day. I loved phone sex. I loved sex, period. I loved time with others as we played hard on the net.

But as far as crossing the line, I had not done it. But I wanted sex, damn it!

Suddenly I felt his fingers enter me. “Sidda, please believe me, but I have never done anything this forward in my life, but I find myself totally enthralled with you and everything about you.” Your body is a fucking turn on Sidda…I want to see it. I want to feel it, I want all of it!”

He was making me feel attractive, sexy, playful, horny with a fire that I had not felt for at least 20 years of marriage. Here it was happening aboard this airliner in a manner of minutes. I had felt trapped behind a facade where a wild, animalistic libido roared its head constantly, yet I maintained a cool exterior to my friends, family and public. There was no way in my community I could throw caution to the wind. I had to be so very careful and I felt that there was no one I could confide in. I felt trapped and so tired of looking at men and wanting more; just wishing it could go so much further. It was hell so many times to keep it hidden behind my girl-next-door persona.

Sidda, take my lead and follow me in a few short minutes ok?” “Ok Wade.” I managed to eek out. Soon he was up and out of his seat, his sport coat folded neatly over his arms in front of him. I laughed to myself thinking of what he was hiding. I wondered if the coat was sticking out too, much like the tent in his pants! Smiling, I could not believe it but I stood up and nonchalantly followed him to the section where the little restrooms were; one was occupied, the other was not, so I entered.

He grabbed me and his arms flew around me and he began to kiss me. “I cannot believe I am doing this!” but he kept doing it as his tongue slowly began to dance around my upper and lower lips. My tongue sought his and soon we were fucking each other’s mouths and our bodies locked together. I could not believe we both fit in that little room, but there was no mistaking that we definitely fit. I felt him help lift me partially up to the wash basin and he pushed my skirt clear up around my waist before I sat back.

I moaned as I saw him staring, for what seemed like hours, appearing mesmerized by my shaved netherlands. I leaned back against the mirror as he sat upon the toilet. He turned slightly and released his hard cock out of the taut barrier as it screamed to be set free. He did not touch it; it stood erect, and hard like a steel shaft. It stuck out and I heard it crying for me to take care of it. He shoved my hand away. By doing that it was surely torture for him, but extreme torture for me.

His hands began to caress my thighs as they kneaded my flesh as he pushed my thighs further apart. I moaned in a low audible tone as he immediately took a muff dive and I jumped in the surprise move. I was shocked, his hard little cock-tongue caressing my slit as it worked its way inside. I spread wider, I began to spasm and shake, as his tongue snaked further inside as he began to fuck me more vigorously. His finger came up and found my swollen bean with ease and he was amazed how hard it was and how, like a tiny “cock”, it was when rock hard. When my fleshy skin was pushed back, the little love-button protruded outwardly begging to be manhandled and manhandle me, he did, as he worked me to a frenzy!!!

I grabbed the bottom of my top and yanked it over my head and off. I then reached behind me freeing my hot globes of flesh. He hands shot up and began kneading one and then the other, pinching and pulling them into submission. In the few seconds that all this was taking place, I began to feel this tremendous tremor rack my body. His last tongue-circling-journey within my inner walls got the full load, as I splashed my amazing white creamy goo all over his mouth. He just lapped it up as my head fell back and he screamed chow-time. I could not believe the amazing rush and explosion that my body was feeling. My tits, my cunt, my mouth all had the full benefit of his attentions!

Suddenly he pulled me off the basin and pulled me down on top of his red hot poker. Down I slipped with such ease that I wondered if he was really inside of me. But then, in a flash in the pan, or a cunt in this instance; he pulled my fleshy hips down further and hard. I took all of him screaming but he reached up suddenly and clasped a hand over my mouth holding back the sounds behind it. We were cramped too, those bathroom cubbyholes not big enough for sex!

Muffled moans and groans were screamed into his palm as he drove hard into me. It was pounding me so hard that I felt a tinge of pain, but it was soon covered over with pure bliss of ecstasy. I took him all the way to the cervix and still he pulled me up and down on him. I was so slippery and wet that it drove him into wild animalistic passion as he fucked me harder and harder.

Soon his twin boys were twitching and his throbbing member burst forth coating my inner walls. I could read his face as he concentrated so hard. His cum driving him mad as he began to spurt and spurt within me. I felt it oozing out of me and knew it was dripping down his cock to his balls and into the toilet; mine mixed with his.

Suddenly we breathed deeply as our assault on the other ended and heard the pilot point out that we would be descending very soon into the Black Hills of South Dakota. Pulling it together I refused to wash up wanting his spunk dripping from my pussy to my thighs. I wish I had a way to remember this flight for years to come. Tucking his shirt in followed by his cock, he told me…”Sidda, I will stay in here for a few minutes, but you head back to your seat. But, I would smooth your skirt back down however and put your bra and shirt back on; you might draw attention,” he teased.

Working like a gem, we both went back to our seats. His hand rested on my thighs as we discussed the week ahead. We were going to try and make it work.

What a vacation this had started out to be. I would for many years to come remember and appreciate this airliner’s motto… “Come Fly the Friendly Skies”.

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