When Hosties Wore Stockings

Inside the lavatory Mike had his cock buried deep inside Michele's sopping cunt and was jackhammering away at her. Michele's legs where locked around his back and she encouraged him to shag her harder by beating her heels against his back and rubbing her stocking-sheathed legs along his flank. She ground her sex against his pubis so that it stimulated her clitoris. She was close to orgasm.

Mike's cock began to pulse as his orgasm approached; he kissed the lovely hostie hard and drove his tongue deep into her mouth and smothered her squeals as she came with him. Her cunt quivered and milked his seed from him as his cock pulsated and ejaculated stream after stream of hot semen deep inside her. Their lips ground together as they both tried to smother each others cries of ecstasy.

Sandra Downey giggled to herself when she heard the sounds of their climax trough the lavatory door. Then she heard muttering from inside the loo and decided to discretely disappear.

Mike emerged first from the lavatory and moved up the dark quiet aisle to take his seat and Michele came out thirty seconds later. A glance around the cabin told her all was well with the other passengers and she took her seat. She pulled her travel bag out of its stowage and spent a few minute fixing her makeup. Her skirt was wrinkled but that could easily be explained away because of the long flight.

Her laddered stockings and soaking wet knickers were another story and she went back into the loo with her travel bag and changed her knickers and stockings.

Mike Harris slept like baby for the rest of the flight and awoke refreshed when the captain made the call that they were thirty minutes out of Singapore. Michele came around the cabin with freshly brewed tea and she gave Mike a conspirator's smile as poured for him.

"So Michele; will we ever meet again?" Mike asked pointing to her name badge; she had put on her jacket ready for the imminent landing.

"We might; you never know," she smiled back and offered her hand.

"Michele Bouvier," she introduced herself.

"Mike Harris," he smiled back.

"A souvenir," she winked at him and dropped a small package into his lap.

When she had gone he opened the package and found her stockings and come-soaked knickers balled up together and tied with a ribbon. They smelled of Channel No 5, vaginal secretions and semen.

Mike made that same trip a couple more times but he never saw Michele Bouvier again. When he asked after her, one of the other hosties explained to him that Michele was no longer working as a flight attendant and was now in charge of BA's Airline Hostess Training School.

Mike smiled regretfully; he had hoped he might meet up with Michele Bouvier again some day but he didn't have the nerve to look her up. He had kept those laddered nylons and come-stained knickers and every now and then he would get them out and smell and feel them while he masturbated; remembering the good old days when hosties wore stockings.

...

Mike was roused from his reverie when he was tapped on the shoulder by a woman in the aisle beside his seat. She had long slender fingers and bright-red painted fingernails and she wore a gold ring set with a large ruby on her wedding-ring finger. He looked up to see an attractive mature woman in a business suit smiling down at him; she had to be in her fifties or sixties but she had beautiful hazel eyes and despite the little wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, she had retained her beauty and elegance.

"Sorry; I'm in the window seat," she beamed and he was pleasantly surprised to hear an English accent.

Mike was still erect from the daydream he was having; memories of Michele Bouvier being very naughty with him on that flight to Singapore all those years ago.

He reached for his seatbelt and made an effort to stand up but the woman placed her hand back on his shoulder and Mike inhaled Channel No 5.

"Please don't get up; I'm not exactly petite anymore but I'm sure I can squeeze past you," she smiled and turned side-on and began to squeeze between Mike and the back of the seat in front of him.

Her ample, but well shaped buttocks were encased in a navy-blue pencil skirt with a kick-pleat at the rear and Mike's face was only inches from it as she struggled to get to her seat. The kick pleat opened wider as she slid past him and Mike saw a pleasing glimpse of stocking-welt and he could also see the little telltale bump on her thigh were her skirt pulled tight against the garter snap attached to her stocking. He looked down at her well shaped legs and noticed a discrete back-seam running up the back of her sheer black stockings. Mike's cock uncoiled like a snake.

Finally past him and in her seat the woman fumbled around looking for her seat belt.

"Here let me help you," Mike smiled back at her and reached down between her thigh and the armrest and extracted the seatbelt.

His fingers accidentally glanced along her leg and he felt the heat of her body through her skirt. He absentmindedly began to lightly brush her leg through her skirt; his eyes where fixed on her legs; her skirt had ridden up halfway up her thighs and her dark sheer stockings glistened in the light of the cabin; he could make out the little wrinkles at her knees.

"Oh sorry! I was a little lost there, please excuse me?" Mike said apologetically removing his hand.

She continued to smile at him.

"Where are you going to?" she asked politely.

"Heathrow via Newark, with a one day stopover in New York," he smiled back.

"What a coincidence. Snap! So am I!" she laughed, her voice throaty and exotic.

The lady offered her slim, well-manicured hand.

"Michele Bouvier," she said; her beaming smile lighting up her attractive mature face.

Mike broke into a grin and then laughed; the woman looked quizzically at him.

"Have we met before?" she searched his eyes trying to place where she might know this man from.

"Oh yes we have met before, a long time ago. In fact I have some things of yours that I would like to discuss with you," Mike grinned at Michele and placed a hand reassuringly on her upper arm.

"This sounds like its going to be fascinating flight; tell me all about it," unconsciously her hand slid down and she squeezed his knee. Mike's cock sprang to full attention.

Disclaimer: The British often still refer to panties as knickers and they certainly did in the seventies — I like the work knickers — very British! I do not know if BOAC actually had a Heathrow to Singapore non-stop service in the 70s or if their 747s were configured like the one I described in this story. I do know that Continental Airlines has the most, dreary, sexless, unflattering, flight attendant uniforms in the free world. Oh ... and Larry Kellner is a cock!

The End

Please provide feedback, positive or otherwise. I write so you can enjoy my stories and tell me what you think.

xxx

Michele