Mid-Air Collusion Ch. 02

An hour or so into the flight and things were going well in row 34. We continued to make pleasant conversation during lunch, idle chat about work and life in general in our respective parts of the world. We drank red wine with our meal and rounded off the event with coffee and cognac. No doubt the alcohol played a significant part in making us both feel relaxed and at ease with each other's company. Once the stewardesses had completed their clean-up act down the aisles, the atmosphere in the aircraft became calm once more as the cabin lights were dimmed and our fellow passengers settled down to the in-flight entertainment, read their books or fell asleep. There had been a pause in our chatting for around five minutes and the drone of the plane's engines sounded prominently in my head. She was busy staring out of the window, seemingly deep in thought.

"What can you see," I asked, trying to ignite the conversation once again.

"Bright lights of what looks like a large ship in the sea," she replied. "It even looks quite large from up here".

From my aisle seat I strained to look across and out of the window.

"I need the toilet," she continued. "Take my seat while I'm gone and you'll be able to see it."

I unbuckled my seat belt and moved out into the aisle to let her pass.

As she exited our row, she whispered softly, "Be sure to keep it warm for me while I'm gone."

My face broke into a bright smile as I watched her head off towards the rear of the aircraft. As I moved back into row 34 and took up her seat by the window, a strange tingling sensation came over me. Upon sitting down I was immediately conscious of how warm the seat felt. And it was her warmth. Was this natural to feel so aroused by a stranger like this, I wondered? I noticed the book she had been reading tucked into the back of the seat in front of me. I took it out. John Grisham's latest novel. Again my heart raced as I held the book in my hands, flicking through the pages as if it were strictly taboo. I held it to my face, attempting to smell her presence within it. The book, however, was evidently very new and to my dismay it smelled of nothing other than a fresh, crisp paperback. I stifled a laugh as I realised just how silly I was being.

She returned at this point and as I motioned to my feet she shook her head. "It's OK," she said. "You stay there." And to my surprise she sat down in the seat next to me and made herself comfortable. "Did you see the boat?" she asked.

"Uh, yes I did. Very big, wasn't it?" I replied, lying through my teeth. She then noticed the book in my hand.

"Do you like John Grisham?"

"Yes I do," I replied quite genuinely, "Though I've seen more of the films made from his books than actually read his work."

"Me too," she said. "I love films. I saw a great film last night, an oldie from the 80s. It was called Sex, Lies and Videotape..."

"Oh I love that film," I interrupted. "With James Spader."

"And Andie MacDowell. That's right," she exclaimed. "It was so good."

I laughed. "You know, when I first saw that film, my girlfriend at the time thought it was really perverted for a guy to get off videoing women talking about sex. The film made her angry."

She laughed. "Really? Was she a prude?"

"A little," I mused, trying to sound a little sympathetic towards the foibles of an old flame. "I remember arguing with her. Surely he AND the women were all getting something out of it?"

"I totally agree", she said boldly. We turned and faced each other as we did so we both simultaneously burst into laughter.

"Truly I do, " she continued. "And the more so because these women were strangers to him. And he a stranger to them. That's what made the whole thing so erotic."

Her words rang loud in my head as I recalled the sensation I felt sitting in her seat only moments earlier. The tingling, aching sensation I experienced caressing her book. My head was heavy with alcohol as my mind began to wander. Suddenly I was aware that she was talking once more.

"Have you ever shared an intimate story of a sexual nature with a total stranger?" she was asking me. She was now leaning into her seat, her head sideways facing me, smiling teasingly. I hesitated for a while, as if considering the question seriously.

"Actually, I don't believe I have."

"I'll trade you then," she taunted. "An exchange of a deeply personal experience... From one stranger to another."

Our eyes met once again. Her pretty face glowed before me. For all my expectations, I could not believe this was happening. Clearly the alcohol was having the same effect on her.

"Are you serious," I asked, stalling for time.

"Why not?" she replied. "It'll be fun. It can be about anything we like. Maybe something we'd not even consider sharing with our best friends."

"I see," I teased, digesting her words. "Something as intimate as that?"

"Yes," she purred. "But it has to be a true story. No making it up or wishful thinking!"

I laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it," I said mockingly.

"Good," she beamed. "Then you go first. I dare you!"

I shot her a quick look in the eyes and took a deep breath. "OK," I said calmly. "Let me think."

She held her mouth open slightly in anticipation, as I appeared to be thinking long and hard, already certain in my mind as to which story I wanted to tell her. Lowering my voice to that of a whisper I began.

"This is the true story of the pleasure I get when taking a shower."

She shuddered at my words and huddled closer to me so she could hear. "Oh wow," she said. "Go on."

Before commencing my story, I leaned forward in my seat and took a look around us. We were well into our journey now and there was relative calm in our immediate cabin area. Sensing my concern, she seized the opportunity to lift the armrest between us so that when I sat back in my seat she was able to snuggle up to me.

"Is that better?" she asked. Considering our relationship was less than a couple of hours old, the physical closeness between us seemed very natural indeed.

"Perfect," I whispered. When I turned to face her at last our faces were less than 6 inches apart. I felt the eager warmth from her breath as I began my story.

Six months ago I moved apartment. It was a new building with all mod cons. The kitchen and bathroom were particularly well fitted out. The bathroom had a separate bath and shower, and the shower itself had the most amazing shower head. For the first month or so I took my daily shower without paying much attention to the shower head. After all, why should I? A shower was a shower, right?

Then one evening, after returning home from a gruelling game of squash with a friend, I jumped in the shower in need of a real good soak. As usual, I spent a minute or two standing motionless under the gushing flow of water, invigorating me from head to my toe. I then lathered myself all over, conscious of eradicating the sweat from my body. As soon as I was done, I proceeded to rinse the soap off, and on this particular occasion I chose to take the shower head down from its mounting on the wall to speed up the operation. By doing so, I became aware for the first time of a number of dial settings on the shower head. By turning the dial I realised that the head was capable of delivering a wide range of power sprays. During installation, the head was set on a mid setting, which had served me well since moving in. Turning the dial in one direction made the spray more concentrated and powerful; turning it the other way made it more gentle and sensitive. Ignoring my soapy body for a moment, I selected the most powerful setting, replaced the head in its wall mounting and moaned in agonising pleasure as the pulsating jet of water beat down against my back, effectively massaging my aching muscles.

After five minutes or so I decided I could stand no more. Taking down the shower head once again, I selected the most gentle setting and began to wash down what remained of the soap from my body. In contrast to the power setting, the fine spray of water now soothed me as I waved it about my body. I recall in all honesty that at this point it never crossed my mind at all where this might lead.

As the soapy water rolled down my body I began to direct the shower head down towards my legs. Now I should point out that I have always considered myself a sensitive guy, particularly sensitive to touch. However, up until now I have never ever found myself aroused when taking a shower! But as the fine jets of spray found their way between my legs, the tingling sensation was immediate. As the water beat down on my inner thighs and balls I felt them tighten rapidly. Parting my legs, I directed the jet of water directly on myself to amazing effect. My penis grew instantly and began stiffening with each passing second. Bending my legs slightly I was able to angle the head beneath me and the fine spray now teased my buttocks and anus as well as my balls and the base of my penis. The sensation became so overwhelming, I felt sure I would soon explode with pleasure. The idea of this fascinated me; to self inflict an orgasm with no direct contact with my penis seemed impossible, yet I was sure it would happen if I continued to torture myself in this way.

As the steam continued to rise, I was able to make myself comfortable squatting over the head as it lay on the floor of the shower. Supporting myself with my back against one of the tiled walls, my legs trembled with tension as the fine jets of water pounded endlessly all over my balls, anus and penis. I pulled back my foreskin and observed as my throbbing head pulsated in the deluge of water. As I looked on, water soaked my face as the fountain surged upward between my legs. Closer and closer, I knew it was going to happen. Closer. Closer. Closer.

And suddenly there was no stopping me. Before my eyes my penis made one last defiant gesture, stiffening harder than ever as my head swelled to the point of destruction. As if in rhythm to my beating heart, I began pumping my thick creamy juice high into the misty air. As the water rushed about me, creamy streaks splattered the shower screen in what I still claim to be the most powerful orgasm of my life. My legs gave way beneath me and I collapsed on the floor of the shower in sheer exhaustion. My cum seemed all around me as it mixed with the water and began circling my toes making its way down the plug hole...

I stopped talking and the two of us remained silent for some moments. As I became aware of the droning engines of the aircraft once more, I realised that I had just relived the moment as if I had been there. Throughout my story I had continued to look at her, yet I was totally unaware of her or her response. When I came to, I suddenly saw a look of complete bewilderment on her face. Her mouth was wide open and her lips appeared dry. And her eyes were agog with apparent disbelief. At first I thought she was dead.

"Are you ok?" I asked nervously. She threw her head back against her seat and seemed to squirm uncomfortably, adjusting her skirt in the process.

"Oh my," she said at last. "So much detail."

"Was it too much," I questioned, concerned that I may have gone over the top.

"No, no, no... Not at all... I just never imagined... It was so... so erotic."

I beamed at her compliment. "Thank you."

"And this really happened?" she asked quizzically. "Are you sure this is a true story?"

I assured her that every word of my story was true, as we had agreed at the outset of our little game.

"And how often do you torture yourself in this way now that you have discovered this form of pleasure?"

I laughed at this obvious question and then confessed that I now routinely played with myself in this way at least once a week. "I dread my water bill," I quipped.

Turning sideways and moving closer towards me once again, she suddenly drew her hand to her mouth as if stifling a smile.

"What is it?" I asked in horror.

"Oh nothing," she started, motioning down between my legs. "I see you are just as turned on as I am by telling me your story!"

I followed her gaze and looked in horror at the bulging erection from within my trousers. So engrossed in the telling of my story, so concentrated was I of delivering such a fine performance, I appeared to have overlooked how aroused it had made me. Now aware, I began to ache with delirious frustration as my penis throbbed away uncomfortably.

"So my story turned you on as well?" I teased.

She laughed. "Oh for sure it has", she replied calmly. "More than you can possibly imagine, I bet."

"You really think so?" I taunted. "I do have a pretty vivid imagination you know."

She leaned towards me and lowered her voice even more. "True, you do. Indeed you do. But I doubt you could possibly imagine just how wet I am right now."

My penis stiffened noticeably in front of us both as she spoke.

"That must be so uncomfortable," she teased. Before I could answer she added, "Stroke yourself for me. I want to see the shape of you. I want to see just how big you are down there." Her request was so demanding, I almost found myself obeying without question.

I turned sideways to face her and she, in turn, moved closer to me in anticipation. Our foreheads met at the edge of the sides of our seats.

"No way!" I whispered, with barely an inch separating our lips. "If you're that curious, feel free to see for yourself!"

She sighed nervously and the warmth of her breath once more overwhelmed me. Her eyes widened devilishly. She leaned forward and took a quick look around the cabin. Returning to my side once more, she raised her face upwards slightly and gave me a small kiss on the nose, which sent a torturous shiver down my spine.

Resting the side of her face against mine, she uttered, "If you insist."

As I felt the full warmth of her skin against mine, her arm began to move down my side. Suddenly I felt a hand on my thigh, sliding its way towards me like a slithering snake. Relentlessly she made her way down between my legs, eager to reach me. My penis continued to pound inside my trousers in agonising anticipation. And when she reached me she covered me with her outstretched palm. Impossibly, I felt myself grow bigger from within her grasp. Smoothing the contours of my trousers, she was able to ease me down my right leg. Taking a firm hold of me once again, my penis throbbed between her palm and my thigh.

"Is that more comfortable?" she whispered.

"Much better," I moaned.

To my amazement, she then began to caress me up and down, slowly but purposefully. Her hand worked well on me, given the restriction of my clothing and I was sure that if she continued in this manner I would surely cream myself quite quickly. It took all my strength and determination to pull her hand away.

"As much as I love what you're doing," I said frustratingly, looking deep into her eyes, "I'm not sure it would look good for me to turn up at JFK airport soaking wet."

She smiled back at me and sighed. "Well I have to," she replied.

I smiled in turn, "But at least it's not so obvious for you!"

"True," she retaliated, "But it's just as uncomfortable, maybe more so."

I sat frozen for an instant as I tried to imagine just how wet she was. I studied her elegant legs as they rose from her feet, past her knees, up to her thighs, disappearing under the hem of her skirt. Concealed under that hem, I imagined a delicate pair of panties, by all accounts home to a gorgeously wet pussy. I tried to imagine her in detail. I wondered how well trimmed she kept herself. Her aching clitoris, sitting erect between her juicy lips, oozing endlessly into her panties. This vision became too much for me as my whole body tingled next to her.

I leaned closer to her once more and my mouth made delicate contact with her ear. "I think it only fair that I should investigate just how wet you are," I said suggestively. "After all, we are playing by the same rules, aren't we?"

Again she sighed heavily at my words. "Sure we are," she replied. "And believe me, I really want you to investigate." But as I shifted my position in an attempt to seek a convenient way in which to disguise some form of assault on her without being seen by anyone, she placed a hand on my arm and settled me back in my seat.

Tilting her head, our lips met and we kissed, albeit briefly, in a truly electrifying moment. The warmth of her mouth, the heat of the breath from her nose down onto my face, her words of desperation for me to investigate the contents of her knickers and the vision in my head of what I believed I would find, sent a coarse shudder through my body. Pre-cum began flowing freely from the tip of my penis into my boxers.

"All in good time," she murmured, seemingly in as much discomfort as myself. "But first..." she paused, teasingly.

I waited anxiously for her to finish the sentence. "Yes?" I asked.

She smiled, ever conscious of the pain she was inflicting on the both of us. "But first I have to tell you my story."