Speaker 1: It's Thursday, September twenty fifth, and time feared daily. Fuck.
Speaker 1: The only sound is the deep, monotonous drone of the
Speaker 1: jet engines, a constant hum that has vibrated its way
Speaker 1: into my bones. A cabin is dark, lit only by
Speaker 1: the faint blue glow of the overhead sides the occasional
Speaker 1: screen of a phone. Everyone around me is asleep, their
Speaker 1: heads lowered, back, mouths slightly agape. Everyone except him. He's
Speaker 1: in the seat next to me, the stranger I've been
Speaker 1: pressed against for the last four hours. I know the
Speaker 1: shape of his jaw from the slipper of moon my
Speaker 1: coming through the window. I know the set of his skin,
Speaker 1: clean soap, and a faint, spicy column that I've been
Speaker 1: breathing in all night. Our thighs have been in a
Speaker 1: constant more contact, a line of heap from hip to knee.
Speaker 1: We haven't spoken a word since he asked if I
Speaker 1: needed help with my bag, but a conversation has been
Speaker 1: happening in the space between us, with every accidental brush
Speaker 1: of our hands on the shared arm rest. He shifts
Speaker 1: in his sleep or a faint sleep, and his knee
Speaker 1: presses firmly against mine, lingering for a beat too long,
Speaker 1: A cholt, sharp and electric should straight to my core.
Speaker 1: At that moment, I decide turbulence isn't going to be
Speaker 1: the only thing making this flight interesting. My mood is subtle.
Speaker 1: I pretend a shiver, Pulling the thin, scratchy airline blanket
Speaker 1: higher on my lap, I let one corner of its
Speaker 1: slide over, covering his thigh as well as mine, a
Speaker 1: shared tent in the dark. I feel him still for
Speaker 1: a moment. Then his hand moves ostensibly to adjust the blanket.
Speaker 1: His fingers brushed mind, a deliberate, questioning touch. I don't
Speaker 1: pull away. Instead, I turn my hand, palm up, my fingers,
Speaker 1: curling slightly. It's an invitation. Slowly, his fingers lace with
Speaker 1: mind under the cover. My heart is a frantic bird
Speaker 1: against my ribs. My other hand, the one he can't see,
Speaker 1: makes its journey across the inches of seat separating us.
Speaker 1: I let go of his hand, and under the blanket,
Speaker 1: my finger tips find the rough denim of his thigh.
Speaker 1: I let them rest there. A sonid question he answers
Speaker 1: by shifting again, giving me better access. My hand creeps higher,
Speaker 1: a slow motion exploration of our private darkness. I find
Speaker 1: the bulge in his chains, my fingers trace its length.
Speaker 1: It's hard. The knowledge sends a fresh wave of heat
Speaker 1: pulling between my legs. At the same time, his hand
Speaker 1: begins its own journey. His knuckles skin the inside of
Speaker 1: my thigh. His touch feather light on my bare skin
Speaker 1: where my dress is ridden up. The risk is intoxicating.
Speaker 1: A flight attendant could walk by at any second. The
Speaker 1: man across the aisle could wake up, but that fear
Speaker 1: is an aphrodisiac, sharpening every sensation. My fingers find the
Speaker 1: button of his fly, and with painstaking slowness, unfastens it.
Speaker 1: The rasp of his zipper sounds like a gunshot in
Speaker 1: the quiet cabin. I slip my hand inside, past the
Speaker 1: fabric of his boxers and finally touch him. He's hot, smooth,
Speaker 1: and pulsing with life. I wrap my fingers around his cock,
Speaker 1: and he enhils sharply, a sound that's swallowed by the
Speaker 1: engines drone. As I begin to stroke him, his hand
Speaker 1: reaches its destination. His fingers slide under the hem of
Speaker 1: my panties, which are already soaked through. He finds my
Speaker 1: clip at out hesitation, and a choked gasp escapes my lips.
Speaker 1: I press my head back against the seat, my eyes
Speaker 1: squeezed shut. We fall into a silent, desperate rhythm. My
Speaker 1: hand pumps his hard cock, feeling it grow even thicker,
Speaker 1: slick with his pre comb, his fingers circle and tease,
Speaker 1: sending jolts of lightning through my entire body. I can
Speaker 1: feel him getting closer, his whole body tensing with the
Speaker 1: effort of staying silent. I'm right there with him, on
Speaker 1: a razor's edge of pleasure so intense it's almost painful.
Speaker 1: I have to bite down on my own knuckle to
Speaker 1: keep from crying out. Your argasm hits me without mourning,
Speaker 1: a silent, violent convulsion under the blanket. My body shudders,
Speaker 1: my hips bucking uselessly against the seat belt in his
Speaker 1: expert hand. My climax tritters his. I feel his cock
Speaker 1: pulse in my fist, his heart released, coating my hand,
Speaker 1: as his entire body goes rigid in a silent, shuddering climax.
Speaker 1: We stay like that for a long moment, breathless and trembling.
Speaker 1: In the aftermath, our hands still intimately connected. Slowly we withdraw,
Speaker 1: cleaning ourselves as best we can. With airplane napkins in
Speaker 1: the dark, We leave the blanket in place. Neither of
Speaker 1: us sleeps for the rest of the flight. As the
Speaker 1: sun rises and the cabin lights flicker on, we turn
Speaker 1: and look at each other for the first time. He
Speaker 1: has kind eyes and a tired, beautiful smile. I smiled back.
Speaker 1: We walk off the jet bridge in opposite directions, without
Speaker 1: ever learning each other's names. It was the most intimate
Speaker 1: conversation I've ever had.