JOINING MR. X’S INTERNATIONAL EXPERIMENT

Mr X:

By coincidence, a lover got in touch with me just before my trip. He asked about what naughty adventures I had planned and I told him I will not have much time or opportunity to get into too much trouble except for planning to go without bra and panties. He knew about my very mission based trip and concurred my lack of underwear would be consistent with my skimpy luggage of wallet, passport, cellphone, and one pair of spare panties. He demanded that I send him a photo of His dirty little slut on route, before I disappeared up into the troposphere where I would get up often to stretch in the presence of other eyes that would appreciate the motion of my limbs and receive possible glimpses of nude flesh and unmistakable outlines of pointed arousal.

As I stepped into the body scanner, bare legged, and bare everything, I thought for a few seconds that whoever is reviewing me for concealed weapons would know, correct? Will I get into trouble?? Will they pat me down? My heart was racing a little by the time I bent down to put my shoes back on. I shuddered and my lips quivered a little. When I got to my gate, I sat down in front a couple of men in business suits, and took out my phone. Between glancing up at them, trying different smiles, I deepen the hue and ramp up the shine of my pout. Yes, that should be the first view of his slut. I stared at the suits, pursed my lips. Kissy kissy. Click, click, click. Then I emailed him the photo. When I boarded my first flight, he responded “mmmmmmmmmmm…. want that on my cock.”

Between the soft jersey billowing my bare ass and pussy, the cotton gauze licking my nipples, and his reference to his cock, I was buzzing on the plane. So much so that I even flirted with the guy seated next to me. I was putting on some cream on my hands and I apologized for the smell when he gave an icky look. We had a brief chat about the product and then I said, yes it really works. Feel my arm. He said, it is like milk. See? It works. He thought I did not notice he then glanced down the length of my legs, but I did and I knew he was thinking about cream at that point.

Before the next flight took off, I made one more stop into the tiny aircraft toilet, lifted my legs up against the door and with quite a degree of difficulty, I angled my bare, swollen pussy for a close up shot. It made me nuts taking that photo for him. The flight was pretty crowded; it was not exactly a very sexy setting. But god, my mind was spinning and my body was aching. I squirmed and squirmed in my seat. Maybe I finally got a little more comfortable or maybe I just exhausted myself. I woke up at some point later, it was dark by then, and I covered myself with blankets, pushed my hand down past my smooth, milky mound and rubbed myself until I creamed. Then I fell asleep with images of our last time together. His hand fisting his cock. And I dreamed of him, and how his cock felt in my mouth, around my tongue, all hot and hard and tender. And when I woke up, there was a tightness in my throat that begged for the quenching of his cum.