"Mile High"

I never wanted to join the mile high club.

An author of travel books, I spent a lot of time on airplanes. Nothing was arousing about cramped spaces, mediocre food, and even worse company.

And then he sat down.

Broad shoulders, slicked back black hair, a strong jaw and a cleft chin on man at least six three in height.

His smile was polite at first, and then it widened to a grin as he gave me a more thorough perusal.

I wasn't comfortable with the instant arousal, so I ignored him as he sat down.

"Can I help you?" I asked, irritated and excited by the way he was staring at me.

"You can," he said. "Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes," and with those words, he left his seat.

I made my way to the bathroom, wondering which stall he was in. I got my answer when a hand snapped out and pulled me inside.

Eager hands sat me on the sink, pulled my panties off and spread my legs. He ate my pussy like a man starved, licking my clit and shoving two fingers deep to massage my G-spot.
I came, biting my lip to muffle my screams. Weak and pliable, I let him turn me in that tiny bathroom and lift my skirt above my hips.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, grabbing a handful of my hair and pulling so my throat was exposed. His free hand slid between my thighs, one finger pressing down on my clit.

"Yes," I whimpered, feeling his cock.

"Then take me," he said, and thrust home.

In that tiny space our coupling was fierce, his thrusts moving me insistently against his finger.
His hand lifted, his fingers thrusting into my mouth, and I came, tasting myself on him.