Long Lay-Over

....as she stood behind her slave and pressed the tip of the huge– “Excuse me, Miss?”

Miss Oatlash’s typing was interrupted by the stewardess tapping her on the shoulder. She had been writing an erotic fantasy for her lover on her laptop. She was using large fonts, so the words were visible to anyone who was nosy enough to look. Apparently, someone was.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but another passenger has complained that your writing is disturbing her. Perhaps this is not the best time for that story.”

The Stewardess was leaning close and speaking softly in Natasha Oatlash's ear. She could smell the scent of good perfume on the Stewardess’ neck. She had watched her walk the aisle, so sexy in her crisp uniform. Her skin was darkly tanned, and her hair was thick and red. She had eyes that said they had seen it all and a smirk to her full, red lips that hinted she had done most of it. Natasha felt a warmth begin to glow between her legs.

“I’m sorry, Stewardess. I didn’t mean to bother anyone.”

The Stewardess whispered, “Fu... forget her. She’s a nosy biddy. I’ve been enjoying the bits of story I could catch. The two stewards and I have been relaying the parts we’ve seen to each other back in the galley. This Mutt sounds like quite an interesting lover.”

“You have no idea,” Miss Oatlash bragged as she put away her laptop.

For the rest of the flight, Natasha contented herself with watching the trio of Flight Attendants work. A sexier trio she had never seen. The Stewardess, her name tag read Fiona, was in her early forties, with full, heavy breasts and a sumptuous ass that swayed as she moved down the aisle. The buttons of her blouse were undone one button below uniform code, revealing a deep cavern of tanned, freckled cleavage. The Stewards were as different as could be. Anthony was an Italian God; his eyes black, his body compact and muscled, his features Roman. Natasha was sure she caught a hint of heat between Anthony and the much older Fiona. Duane was tall, reed thin, pale skinned and sharp jawed. When his blond hair fell over his ice blue eyes he reminded Natasha of a young Peter O’Toole. He spoke in the gay patois, all honey this and sister that. He charmed the socks off of her.

But Natasha’s ogling was interrupted by the Captain’s firm, but reassuring voice telling them they were going to have to make an unscheduled landing. (No problem, a warning light, redundant systems working fine but regulations say they must land at Boonesboro.) She caught Duane by the sleeve and asked if Boonesboro had a runway that could handle that big a plane.

“No problem, honey,” he said, “There’s an army base there, so they can handle the big ones. If you are going to be stuck, there could be worse places.” He winked a knowing wink.

Things got worse after landing. It would be an overnight stay. They took forever to find her bags. By the time she got the shuttle to take her to a hotel, the terminal was near empty. She got off at the Holiday Inn, which appeared to be the only hotel in town, and it was full. Natasha had just resigned herself to sleeping on a hotel lobby sofa when a familiar voice said, “Honey, we’ve got room with two doubles. Why don’t you stay with us?”

She turned and gave her savior Duane a big hug and followed him up to the room. Anthony and Fiona were already there and dressed for bed, Anthony in sweat pants, his bare chest a tabletop of muscle; Fiona in a peach teddy that did little to hide her voluptuous figure.

After chatting and finishing off much of the mini bar contents, Natasha and the trio were laughing and swapping escapades like old friends. But soon it was time for lights out. As they got ready for bed, Natasha asked, “So, what about the sleeping arrangements? Boy/boy, girl/girl?” She tried to hide the lusty anticipation that she felt at the thought of lying next to Fiona’s hot body.

“Oh, no honey,” said Duane. “Fiona and Tony always share a bed on lay-overs. They’re married, you see.”

“Really? I’m surprised they let married couples fly together.”

“Hon, I said they were married. I didn’t say to each other. Look’s like you’re stuck with me.”

“You’re safe as houses,” Fiona chimed in. “Baker’s Dozen there is as gay as a Judy Garland film festival.”

Natasha laughed and asked, “Baker’s Dozen?”

“That’s what we call him. Because of the thirteen,” said Tony.

“Thirteen?”

“Inches, Natasha, inches”, laughed Fiona.

Duane seemed proud, but he blushed a little anyway.

“Thirteen inches? You’ve got to be kidding!” Natasha looked at the package bulging under Duane’s silk pj bottoms and thought it might be true. But she was feeling wicked. “I’ve got to see it before I believe that.”

Tony groaned and rolled over. Fiona sat next to him on the bed, eager for a look. Natasha walked up to Duane and tugged down his pants. He made a half-hearted attempt to stop her. Her jaw dropped when she saw him. His cock, completely flaccid, was as long as her Mutt’s proud erection. She shuddered to think about how big it would grow. Duane gave it a little wave at her and pulled his pants back up. As she crawled into bed with him, Natasha chuckled to herself. Even he wasn’t gay, there was no way she would let him stick that huge thing anywhere in her.

They slept back to back. But in the night, Natasha woke to the sounds of frenzied sex. She rolled over to see Duane, his head propped on his elbow, watching Fiona and Tony going at it on the other bed with the passion reserved for lovers who get few chances. She draped herself over Duane's shoulder, her face next to his, and they watched together. Natasha grew wet in an instant. Duane whispered in her ear, “There they go again. Little minxes. But god, doesn’t he have a great ass?”

He did, round and muscled. It rose and fell as his thick cock slid in and out Fiona’s hairy pussy. Tony was above her, his strong arms straight, his muscles hard and tight. She writhed under him, her breasts pulsing up and back at each of his thrusts. Natasha saw that Fiona’s big jugs were almost blue-white against her tan. Her large nipples were the color of her lips. Her mouth hung open as she gasped in air. Her moans of pleasure grew louder.

“I wish my lover could hear this, and smell it,” Natasha told Duane. “He’s a pantie-sniffing little ass-mutt. And he loves the sound of hot, wet sex.”

“Why don’t you call him?” asked Duane.

Why not indeed? She reached for her cell phone on the bed stand. Her pert breasts rubbed across Duane's face. She called and woke her Mutt. He was delighted to hear from her, even before she explained what he was hearing in the background. She lay the phone on the bed stand between the beds so that her Mutt could hear every passionate scream.

As they listened, she and Duane whispered a running commentary to each other on the awesome sexual show they were watching. Natasha unconsciously dropped her hand onto Duane’s lap. What she felt sent a shiver down her spine. He was rock hard and he was huge. Impossibly huge. She tugged down his pajama pants. His cock was as long as the bottles of Voss Spring Water they sold in the duty-free shops.

“You’re barking up the wrong Maypole, I’m afraid,” said Duane.

“Relax, silly boy. Watch the show. A hand is a hand,” said Miss Oatlash.

She began to stroke his massive tool. It seemed to grow even longer and thicker under her ministrations. Duane groaned and rolled onto his back. His cock jutted up like the mast of a schooner. Natasha put both of her hands on it and jerked him off, watching in amazement as the fat head of his cock grew purple with lust. Her finger tips couldn't even meet around his girth. She had to have a taste. Had to. She lowered her head and began to lick it. She opened her hot mouth over it and stretched her lips wide to engulf it.

“Honey, Please. I’m not that kind of man.”

“Relax, silly boy. A mouth is mouth,” Miss Oatlash said.

People didn't say no to Miss Oatlash. Duane lay back and closed his eyes and took his first female head. Natasha was only able to get half of him into her mouth. She worked his fat cock, curling her tongue around his thick shaft, nipping and kissing the big, swollen head. Her pussy was dripping with juice, her mind aflame with wanton lust. She pulled back and took a long look at that elephantine member. She had to try. Had to.

She tried to relax into a state of calm as she engulfed him. She slid his cock into her mouth, little by little, until she could take no more. Her eyes began to water and she could feel herself start to gag. But she did not stop. She would not stop. She swallowed him like a sideshow sword until her nose was buried in his blond bush. Then she slowly drew back, looking down her nose in amazement as inch after inch after inch after inch emerged from her mouth. It was easier the second time, and the third. Her throat relaxed and she began to take all of his huge cock into her mouth over and over. Duane was making noises like a puppy. When Natasha stopped to gasp for air, she saw that Tony and Fiona had stopped what they were doing to watch. They sat side by side on the edge of their bed, their jaws hanging in amazement. Fiona was literally squirming in her own juices. Miss Oatlash got a devilish gleam in her eye and looked at Fiona.

“Bet you can’t,” she teased.

Fiona stood. “I’ll bet I can’t either, but I’m sure the fuck going to try.”

She crawled into bed beside Natasha and they began to play with the giant in their hands. Their lips tried to meet around it, but he was too thick. Their tongues touched and danced around the cockhead. Duane, his eyes clamped shut, was bucking and moaning in ecstasy. Fiona put her mouth over Duane’s huge shaft and took him home, her nose pressed into his belly, his small balls against her chin. The sight drove Natasha wild. She began to rub her clit furiously, an orgasm building inside her.

Suddenly Tony was between her legs, his whiskers scratching the insides of her thighs. He plunged his long tongue into her dripping snatch and began to eat her pussy with a skill only the Mutt could surpass. She came hard, gushing cum into Tony’s eager mouth. It was a blur from there. A tangle of sweaty bodies. Duane did his best to ignore the writhing pile of flesh on the bed beside him. And on top of him.

Fiona's big nipples burned red. Natasha bit them as hard as she could stand. Fiona growled and pulled Tony onto her. They began to fuck furiously. Natasha fell back onto the pillows, nearly spent. Duane looked at her, his eyes filled with lust and his massive tool hard and tall.

“Don’t I get to cum?” His voice had a touch of boyish pleading.

“I’m right here, Duane. I need to be fucked. You need to cum. Fuck me, Duane.”

“Honey, please. It was strange enough getting sucked by a woman. Two women. But I draw the line at pussy. I guess it’s Rosie and her five sisters for me again tonight.”

“Then cum on my belly, Duane. I want to watch.”

He smiled at her. She gave him a wink. He knelt on the bed above her and began to stroke his enormous rod. Natasha’s pussy was burning. She slid three fingers inside. With her other hand, she pinched her dainty, pink nipple until it stung. She felt giddy. She felt wicked. She thought of the Mutt listening on the phone. She pictured him stroking his thick cock, listening to the sounds of sex coming through the wires, the panties she had left him ready to catch the ropes of cum he would shoot into them. She got a gleam in her eye and a leer to her lips.

She reached into her bag, which lay on the floor by the bed. She pulled out a jar of Astro Glide. She got on all fours, her magnificent ass in the air like a cat in heat. She slid the jar back between her legs like a football player snapping the ball. She lay her head on the bed and breathed deeply, slowly, in and out. She reached back her hands and spread her cheeks. Her bunghole began to stretch open. She looked back over her shoulder at Duane. He was kneeling behind her, a look of confusion on his face and his colossal cock in his hands. She growled in her throat and said, loudly enough that the Mutt was sure to hear, “Come on, silly boy. An ass is an ass.”

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