Fun at twenty-three thousand feet

So, I’m standing in line to make the connecting flight last night, and suddenly I hear my name called with great enthusiasm. I turn and see a former colleague standing in line a couple of people behind me. Frankie. She’s wearing a fedora. So am I. A quick thought passed my mind: “Fedora? I didn’t know we both wear hats.”

Frankie is a little gem of a thing who used to work with me. She stands just a touch over 5 foot and has the most kick-ass little bod north of Miami. Well, perhaps I exaggerate slightly, but she’s dynamite. She moved on from Plaid to take a job with some computer consulting firm over in the Triangle. Let me say that life looked like it’s treating her well.

We hug, as you’re apt to do standing in line to board a plane and you see a soul you know. We chatted as the line moved slowly forward. I glanced at her boarding pass and realized her seat was in the same row as mine. We boarded the plane and headed toward the back of the bus, her to the window seat and me to the matching aisle, the awful middle seat between us. Stowing our gear, I mumbled something about hoping the middle seat stayed vacant.

It did stay vacant, and damn am I glad.

Frankie and I had flirted when we worked together. Okay, what attractive co-workers do I not flirt with, at least on some minor level. There’s always something. Well, we sat down and Frankie licked her lips, soft tongue brushing over her red lips. She asked if I’d get a couple of blankets as she was chilly. I should’a known something was up. I brought a couple of blankets and right before we pulled back from the gate, Frankie suggested a move to the middle seat so we wouldn’t have to raise our voices to talk. I slid over and buckled in; Frankie tossed a blanket over my lap.

By the time we were rolling down the runway, engines at max thrust, she had her hands on my inner thighs. By the time the front wheels lifted off the runway, she was rubbing my hardness through my khakis. By the time we reached ten thousand feet and the flight attendant announced we could turn on our approved electronic devices, she had pulled my zipper down and was giving me a hand job, her soft hands caressing my hot cock. By the time we had reached our cruising attitude of 23,000 feet, she had disappeared under the blue blanket and wrapped her full lips around my stiff cock.

I felt her up, later, but didn’t get a chance to really do much of anything as the flight was just too short. She had one small orgasm as we were landing, the runway dry, her slight pussy drenched.

I’m glad we don’t work together. We made a date for Sunday night; I’m promised her I’d make up for my lack of performance completion of outcomes.