Ad Men

Another excellent slogan, he thought.

He did not object to Joan's presence. From the aisle, she leaned down over Mr. Swim, or more precisely, his cock. "I think you can tell a lot by a man's penis, don't you think, Mr. Swim?"

"Well, I'm not so sure," he replied, looking down at it as Babs slid her fist up and down its length, enjoying very much this first class service. He was beginning to wonder why nobody had thought of this before but, of course, that was in fact why they hired advertising agencies.

Joan continued, "Yours is so big and manly and strong. No wonder you're such a successful businessman."

Mr. Swim chuckled. He was not so naive that he actually believed she was being sincere, but the flattery was nevertheless enjoyable to hear, especially when Babs was rolling her thumb around and around the tip, working his pre-cum fluid deep into the soft, swollen, round crown.

A man will believe just about anything a girl says, when she is lovely, half-naked, and fondling his fully naked cock.

Joan sighed, "Your wife must be so terribly proud, and I imagine quite satisfied as well."

"Joan can be such a flirt," Babs observed.

Joan defended herself. "Well, I just think any stewardess worth her breasts would do her best to make the passenger feel comfortable, happy, and so glad that he flew National Airlines."

Mr. Swim vowed to try to get this girl away from Sterling Cooper and into the National Airlines family.

"Would you mind, Mr. Swim, if I just kissed it awhile? It's really not fair that Babs is having all the fun."

"Well, if you insist," he responded, "a passenger should always cooperate with a stewardess during a flight."

Joan leaned down and planted a long, firm, kiss on Mr. Swim's swollen red crown.

His head went back and he groaned with pleasure. This was something he had not experienced in a long time. Actually, he had never experienced two ladies working on his cock at the same time, but he had not even experienced a woman kissing his cock for a very long time. His wife had long abandoned her interest in making him happy, that way. He had not realized until this point how much he had missed the wonderful feel of a woman's lips on the head of his swollen, throbbing, yearning dick.

Joan even slipped her tongue from between her lips and softly licked at the purple plum. "Hmmmmm," she purred, and whispered, "You taste wonderful, Mr. Swim."

He could cum right then, if she let him. But, she pulled back.

"Thank-you, Mr. Swim. I feel much better now."

Babs let go of his cock and slid the tips of her fingernails up and down his shaft. It was an intensely odd combination of mild pain and sensual erotism. "See, Mr. Swim," Babs added, "You're in good hands, with National Airlines."

He was indeed, very concretely so.

"What do you think," Joan asked, "Would you like to fly the friendly skies of National Airlines?"

Babs wrapped her fingers more firmly around his shaft, and slid them up and down, twisting and turning her fist as she went up and down his length. "C'mon, Mr. Swim, you deserve a break today."

Joan added, "We'd love to see you smile."

It was an orgy of great slogans, and much more.

"Just put the seat back, Mr. Swim," Joan instructed, pushing the button on the armrest, gently lowering the seat back. "We know why you fly. We're National Airlines."

Babs got up from his lap and stood before him. National Airlines always provided extra leg room in first class. You never knew when you might need it, or for what purpose.

Babs fixed her eyes on Mr. Swim's eyes, leaned forward, her breasts swinging beneath her. She reached back for her bikini panties, and slowly pulled them down.

Mr. Swim enjoyed looking into the sky blue eyes of Babs, particularly as they were so lovely, alluring and seductive. And what man has not wondered about having sex with a stewardess, right on the plane, in a first class seat. He was beginning to see the bigger picture, the broader story, the insight of Sterling Cooper.

Babs pulled her panties off her bottom and let them slip to the floor. She stepped out of them and onto the passenger. The passenger seat was indeed very roomy, easily accommodating her knees on either side of his thighs. She crouched above his upraised cock.

Joan reached out and pulled Mr. Bradley's pants and underwear down past his thighs. As Office Manager, she appreciated that he really needed to get these out of the way. She also steadied his stiff dick with her hand, whispering into his ear, "I'm so jealous, Mr. Swim. You'll do me after Babs, won't you, sir?"

Mr. Swim wasn't entirely sure he would even survive Babs who, still keeping her eyes firmly fixed on his, lowered her pussy down onto his knob.

"Contact," Babs exclaimed.

"Ignition," Joan responded.

"I'm going to fly you like you've never been flown before," Babs said, and sat down firmly onto Mr. Swim's thick hard joy stick.

The sensation was pure bliss. Mr. Swim had not felt as tight a cunt as this in years, many years in fact, and it was indeed simply bliss. It felt like his cock was engulfed in soft, hot, wet fleshy folds that were each gripping, clinging, and clutching him, like a tightly packed bevy of soft urchins, clams and mollusks, nibbling on him in a feeding frenzy, trying to draw from him his rich, manly, nutritious, seedy gruel.

And, this cunt was attached to a most pretty stewardess, the Eva Marie Saint of secretaries, Babs, who was now fucking him like he had never been fucked before, bouncing up and down on his cock like a piston in a World War I Fokker. How he loved those planes!

And, Joan did not sit idling by. She reached around behind Babs' bottom, in between his thighs, and down into his pants to gently but firmly grasp his balls.

He had always loved it when his first real girl friend did that. It was like she was trying to milk his cum from his balls as she worked the shaft, using her hand as well as her cunt to provide for him as much pleasure, as much satisfaction, as much excitement, as she could. Plus, his balls were so sensitive to the touch, particularly the touch of a pretty lady.

Babs continued to slide her slippery slick slit up and down his shaft. Mr. Swim tried to keep up, but he lacked the agility, the stamina. Babs though was more than happy to do the work. It was, after all, the stewardess' duty to serve, to service the passengers, particularly those in first class, and she was indeed providing first class service.

Babs bounced boldly up and down on his dick, her tits swinging madly, her hips grounding, twisting, and squirming in his lap.

He reached out to steady himself. It was a turbulent, bumpy, stormy flight, and he grasped onto the air bags of Babs, grabbing hold of those life sustaining flotation devices. He could never himself figure why they provided them on planes, as they rarely flew over water. Parachutes seemed like a more appropriate offer than life preservers. It wasn't like cruise ships provided parachutes. Well, one could never understand the mind of the FAA, but that wasn't really on his mind now. And, besides, these air bags were really very pleasant to the touch. He squeezed hard, yet they did not burst, or even complain.

Babs instead squeezed Mr. Bradley's hands deeper into her chest as his dick plunged deep into her slippery slick slit.

Joan continued to softly tickle and squeeze his balls, gently encouraging him to take this flight to its natural course, its climactic landing.

"Babs, Babs," he gasped, feeling himself on the verge of his climax.

Babs crouched down harder on him, pulling his hands away to press her soft full breasts against his face, into his face, squeezing the muscles of her cunt tightly around his shaft, his bulb. She moaned into his ear, "Release your tonnage, Mr. Swim, let it go. I want to feel your cum, your manly fuel, your oil, squirt and spray up my cunt."

No girl friend, no wife, had talked to him like that before, and he delivered the goods. He shut his eyes and felt himself spasm and then release, gushing forth a load of thick gism up inside the stewardess' tight, clenching cunt.

"Yes, yes, Mr. Swim, let it gush, let it go," Babs groaned, as Joan's hand squeezed and milked his balls.

Mr. Swim felt spasmodic waves of exhausting and exhilarating pleasure sweep through and over him as his cock continued to jerk and spit, as Babs cried into his ear, smothering him with her breasts, milking him with her cunt. "It's so much, so much sir, please, you fill me up so good."

He buried his face deep into the stewardesses lusciously luxurious pillows as his cock continued to jerk and cum in her cunt, feeling her muscles continue to massage and work every last drop, every last seed, from his dick.

When it was over, the girls let him catch his breath, as they also cleaned him off. A good stewardess will always help a passenger who spilled his cream.

Mr. Swim signed the contract for the $9.5 million advertising campaign, and he never regretted it. Ads picturing a lovely smiling stewardess proclaimed: 'I'm Margie [or Babs, or Cheryl, or Barbara]. Fly Me!' National Airlines did not paint cheesecake pictures of the stewardesses on the noses of the planes, but they did at least paint the stewardesses' names (they posed beside them in the ads) and passed out 'Fly Me' buttons for the girls to wear (see YouTube for sample ads).

National Airlines reported a 23% increase in passengers during the first year of the campaign, nearly twice that of the industry as a whole. Mr Swim insisted that they follow it up with new ads featuring National Airline stewardesses looking seductively into the camera and breathing, "I'm going to fly you like you've never been flown before." He always got an erection when he saw the ad. It was, though, Southwest Airlines that eventually took the slogan of "Hostesses in hot pants" (albeit they have since rejected female passengers for dressing too provocatively).

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I hope you enjoyed the story and will someday enjoy, once again, flying the friendly skies. Please do take the time to vote!