In 2004 we were on a plane, leaving cold and damp London for 3 weeks in the Caribbean. We were staying in St. Lucia but were planning to travel around a bit - it was the first proper break from our busy working lives we had managed in years so we were both happy to go with the flow.
We knew that a foreign holiday with warm weather, copious booze, and very little clothing was bound to give us some opportunities for the kind of fun we enjoy, and were very excited about the prospect. Various beach and stranger-based scenarios had been the subject of our fantasy talk while we fucked for several weeks.
For me, the adventure started on the plane before we'd even finished our trundle out to the runway. The stewardess looking after us was stunning. Supermodel hot with a body you only usually see in airbrushed magazines or enhanced Hollywood movies.
She had leaned over me to remove the red-tagged key from the emergency exit - Lizzie and I had booked extra leg room so the third seat in our row, the one which would have been next to the window, was missing to allow access to the exit. She smiled, showing her perfect teeth, stretched over Lizzie sitting to my right in the aisle, showing her perfect neck, and brushed her perfect left breast against my arm as she did her work.
Lizzie was reading a magazine, but, of course, noticed my reaction to this goddess in human form.
"She's very pretty isn't she?"
Lizzie and I don't play silly entrapment games with each other on subjects like this so I answered honestly, "She's stunning."
Lizzie gave a little half smile, still reading, and soon we took off. I didn't see the stewardess for an hour or so until they started giving out drinks. She was pushing the cart while her colleague walked backward, pulling it. Her colleague was straight from central casting - an outgoing, happy, helpful, and totally camp young man who gave you the impression that his entire life had been leading to this moment when he could joyously hand you a cup of tea. As he passed, Lizzie asked for a blanket - she always gets cold on planes - which he, in turn, duly asked "my" stewardess to reach from the overhead locker above us.
I glanced around as she stretched up next to Lizzie to reach the cabinet - her incredible tits straining at the white uniform blouse, which rode up just half an inch to give a tantalizing glimpse of a tanned and toned belly for just a second. I stared open-mouthed until I realized Lizzie was speaking to me - asking if I wanted a blanket too. "Uh - yeah, sure, please..", I said, just so that I could see that whole thing again. This was crazy - I was like a besotted kid and I told myself to get it together. Gorgeous young stewardesses do not fuck middle-aged men in the toilets of airplanes except in porn movies.
I sighed and picked up my book, my blanket in my lap, and started to read.
I awoke a little while later to Lizzie nudging my arm. I looked at my watch, hoping we were about to land - no chance, hours to go - then at Lizzie who nodded forward up the aisle.
"Thought you might want to see this," she breathed amusement in her voice.
Opposite us and about two rows further forward, the stewardess was holding the hand of what appeared to be a middle-aged woman who was on the verge of panic, I could only assume, afraid of flying. She was murmuring comforting things to her, looking concerned and sympathetic to calm her down.
What Lizzie had woken me to see, however, was that the stewardess was squat on her haunches to bring her face to the same level as the passenger, causing her skirt to ride up a little and her thighs to open just enough that a glimpse of white could be seen - it was the ultimate "upskirt" experience and I could not believe my luck.
As I watched, she would shift a little to retain her balance as the plane moved around - must have had very toned thighs - and each time she did so her legs parted, just for a moment, an inch or two more. I hadn't taken my eyes off her in what felt like hours but I guess was a minute at most. I felt Lizzie's left-hand sneak under my blanket and stroke my hard cock from base to tip through my trousers. "I thought you might be...", she said.
Quickly, because she's an incredible wife and realized my view of the stewardess may vanish at any moment, Lizzie pulled my fly open, slipped her hand inside, and grabbed my cock, dispensing with any kind of tease or build-up she started stroking me fast, moving as much as she could in the confines of my trousers and squeezing the head of my cock every third or fourth stroke.
I was getting close when the stewardess stood and turned away. "fuck it - I'm nearly there, too!", I said, frustrated.
"Keep looking..", Lizzie said, in a low voice.
She had stopped a couple of rows up, still just in my view without my leaning over and making things obvious. Lizzie's hand continued to move fast up and down my cock.
The stewardess was bending from the waist to listen to another passenger over the noise, and her skirt was stretched over her incredible arse.
My cock jumped in Lizzie's hand as she spoke to me, quietly, but I could hear her perfectly. "No knicker line must be a thong, I couldn't tell from the front, of course - you can't. Yes, thong."
"Thong, you think?"
"Oh, for sure, yes. Imagine what that's like when she takes it off after a long day. Thongs slide right between your lips if you're at all wet, you know."
"Fuck, go on," I was moving my hips to meet her strokes, close to coming now, and I could feel my balls starting to jump and strain.
"Also," breathed Lizzie, "I think I can see... oh, yes, definitely - suspenders. You can just see the clips if you look closely - do you see them darling?" she asked in a distracted tone.
I definitely could see them, pre-cum was making my cock and Lizzie's hand wet.
"I expect you'd want her to keep those on. I know you love suspenders. You could bend her over, pull her thong away, and..."
I groaned and shuddered and came, hard. Lizzie's hand sped up, gripping me harder with each stroke as she murmured, "That's it darling, come - imagine you're inside her - come in her, come in her."
My orgasm was intense and it took me some minutes to calm down. Lizzie, still without looking at me, wiped her wet hand on my shirt sleeve and picked her magazine up again. I waited long enough for some of the come inside my trousers to dry and went to clean up in the toilet.
When I got back to my seat I decided to return the favor. Sure, Lizzie didn't have the show to look at that I had, but I wanted to make sure she came, at least. After shuffling past her - her glance noting that my cock was half-hard again in my trousers as I thought about making her come - I sat next to her and slid my right hand under her blanket, making directly for the waist of her draw-string jogging trousers - she always wore very comfortable clothes to fly.
Lizzie gently but firmly pushed my hand away. I looked at her, puzzled.
"You'll be thinking about her cunt while your fingers are in mine."
I tried to argue, but Lizzie reached between her feet for her handbag and, pulling the little bullet vibrator out that she always carried, she stood and continued, "However, I am soaking wet, so I'm going to deal with it myself."
Lizzie strode off to the toilet, returning about five minutes later, she sat, breathless, next to me and, reaching under my blanket, opened my hand and pushed something hard into it. The little vibrator was dripping wet. I rubbed my fingers all over it, then opened my trousers again - this time shuffling them down a little over my hips to fully extract my cock and, hidden by the blanket, rubbed my wife's come from my balls to my cock head, over and over until I came once more - Lizzie watching me from the corner of her eye.
"Right, I'm going to sleep. Wake me if a hot guy gets his cock out in the aisle to show me," she said.
When we arrived in St. Lucia, things got interesting, and I'll write about that next.
We knew that a foreign holiday with warm weather, copious booze, and very little clothing was bound to give us some opportunities for the kind of fun we enjoy, and were very excited about the prospect. Various beach and stranger-based scenarios had been the subject of our fantasy talk while we fucked for several weeks.
For me, the adventure started on the plane before we'd even finished our trundle out to the runway. The stewardess looking after us was stunning. Supermodel hot with a body you only usually see in airbrushed magazines or enhanced Hollywood movies.
She had leaned over me to remove the red-tagged key from the emergency exit - Lizzie and I had booked extra leg room so the third seat in our row, the one which would have been next to the window, was missing to allow access to the exit. She smiled, showing her perfect teeth, stretched over Lizzie sitting to my right in the aisle, showing her perfect neck, and brushed her perfect left breast against my arm as she did her work.
Lizzie was reading a magazine, but, of course, noticed my reaction to this goddess in human form.
"She's very pretty isn't she?"
Lizzie and I don't play silly entrapment games with each other on subjects like this so I answered honestly, "She's stunning."
Lizzie gave a little half smile, still reading, and soon we took off. I didn't see the stewardess for an hour or so until they started giving out drinks. She was pushing the cart while her colleague walked backward, pulling it. Her colleague was straight from central casting - an outgoing, happy, helpful, and totally camp young man who gave you the impression that his entire life had been leading to this moment when he could joyously hand you a cup of tea. As he passed, Lizzie asked for a blanket - she always gets cold on planes - which he, in turn, duly asked "my" stewardess to reach from the overhead locker above us.
I glanced around as she stretched up next to Lizzie to reach the cabinet - her incredible tits straining at the white uniform blouse, which rode up just half an inch to give a tantalizing glimpse of a tanned and toned belly for just a second. I stared open-mouthed until I realized Lizzie was speaking to me - asking if I wanted a blanket too. "Uh - yeah, sure, please..", I said, just so that I could see that whole thing again. This was crazy - I was like a besotted kid and I told myself to get it together. Gorgeous young stewardesses do not fuck middle-aged men in the toilets of airplanes except in porn movies.
I sighed and picked up my book, my blanket in my lap, and started to read.
I awoke a little while later to Lizzie nudging my arm. I looked at my watch, hoping we were about to land - no chance, hours to go - then at Lizzie who nodded forward up the aisle.
"Thought you might want to see this," she breathed amusement in her voice.
Opposite us and about two rows further forward, the stewardess was holding the hand of what appeared to be a middle-aged woman who was on the verge of panic, I could only assume, afraid of flying. She was murmuring comforting things to her, looking concerned and sympathetic to calm her down.
What Lizzie had woken me to see, however, was that the stewardess was squat on her haunches to bring her face to the same level as the passenger, causing her skirt to ride up a little and her thighs to open just enough that a glimpse of white could be seen - it was the ultimate "upskirt" experience and I could not believe my luck.
As I watched, she would shift a little to retain her balance as the plane moved around - must have had very toned thighs - and each time she did so her legs parted, just for a moment, an inch or two more. I hadn't taken my eyes off her in what felt like hours but I guess was a minute at most. I felt Lizzie's left-hand sneak under my blanket and stroke my hard cock from base to tip through my trousers. "I thought you might be...", she said.
Quickly, because she's an incredible wife and realized my view of the stewardess may vanish at any moment, Lizzie pulled my fly open, slipped her hand inside, and grabbed my cock, dispensing with any kind of tease or build-up she started stroking me fast, moving as much as she could in the confines of my trousers and squeezing the head of my cock every third or fourth stroke.
I was getting close when the stewardess stood and turned away. "fuck it - I'm nearly there, too!", I said, frustrated.
"Keep looking..", Lizzie said, in a low voice.
She had stopped a couple of rows up, still just in my view without my leaning over and making things obvious. Lizzie's hand continued to move fast up and down my cock.
The stewardess was bending from the waist to listen to another passenger over the noise, and her skirt was stretched over her incredible arse.
My cock jumped in Lizzie's hand as she spoke to me, quietly, but I could hear her perfectly. "No knicker line must be a thong, I couldn't tell from the front, of course - you can't. Yes, thong."
"Thong, you think?"
"Oh, for sure, yes. Imagine what that's like when she takes it off after a long day. Thongs slide right between your lips if you're at all wet, you know."
"Fuck, go on," I was moving my hips to meet her strokes, close to coming now, and I could feel my balls starting to jump and strain.
"Also," breathed Lizzie, "I think I can see... oh, yes, definitely - suspenders. You can just see the clips if you look closely - do you see them darling?" she asked in a distracted tone.
I definitely could see them, pre-cum was making my cock and Lizzie's hand wet.
"I expect you'd want her to keep those on. I know you love suspenders. You could bend her over, pull her thong away, and..."
I groaned and shuddered and came, hard. Lizzie's hand sped up, gripping me harder with each stroke as she murmured, "That's it darling, come - imagine you're inside her - come in her, come in her."
My orgasm was intense and it took me some minutes to calm down. Lizzie, still without looking at me, wiped her wet hand on my shirt sleeve and picked her magazine up again. I waited long enough for some of the come inside my trousers to dry and went to clean up in the toilet.
When I got back to my seat I decided to return the favor. Sure, Lizzie didn't have the show to look at that I had, but I wanted to make sure she came, at least. After shuffling past her - her glance noting that my cock was half-hard again in my trousers as I thought about making her come - I sat next to her and slid my right hand under her blanket, making directly for the waist of her draw-string jogging trousers - she always wore very comfortable clothes to fly.
Lizzie gently but firmly pushed my hand away. I looked at her, puzzled.
"You'll be thinking about her cunt while your fingers are in mine."
I tried to argue, but Lizzie reached between her feet for her handbag and, pulling the little bullet vibrator out that she always carried, she stood and continued, "However, I am soaking wet, so I'm going to deal with it myself."
Lizzie strode off to the toilet, returning about five minutes later, she sat, breathless, next to me and, reaching under my blanket, opened my hand and pushed something hard into it. The little vibrator was dripping wet. I rubbed my fingers all over it, then opened my trousers again - this time shuffling them down a little over my hips to fully extract my cock and, hidden by the blanket, rubbed my wife's come from my balls to my cock head, over and over until I came once more - Lizzie watching me from the corner of her eye.
"Right, I'm going to sleep. Wake me if a hot guy gets his cock out in the aisle to show me," she said.
When we arrived in St. Lucia, things got interesting, and I'll write about that next.
