Bridgett felt the warmth of his thigh against hers, and her blood pounded and heated in response. The bus hit a bump and he slid more heavily against her. His light snores and whiskey-soaked breath irritated her, but the nearness of his body tantalized her. The tingling in her loins was painful by then; the trip had been a long flush of lust punctuated by less than stellar athleticism on anyone’s part.
With no chance to rub off for three days, no chance to seize even a kiss, while surrounded by fellow flowering youths, Bridgett sat stewing in the heat of desire and a stifling blanket. They had killed off a couple of bottles of whiskey before the bus arrived, eighteen seniors whose last chance at being state champions had been flubbed in all events, and once it got dark they had killed off another. Now it was some small hour long after midnight and everyone else but the driver was asleep, who had been well paid by the coach to let them work off steam without interruption after a less than spectacular finals competition.
The bus was filled with inky blackness. Even Bridgett found it hard to see her hand in front of her face, and she had learned years before that she had extraordinarily good night vision. Still, she had been able to make out when Crane had surreptitiously unzipped Miller in the seats across the aisle one row up; the white pillar stood out for her in the black, though no one else would have seen it, until rhythmically obscured by Crane’s head. She had stared fascinated for the five minutes it took Miller to blast off, and then she had seen Miller disappear onto the floor as he leaned over to return the favor; she regretted not seeing anything, but her ears managed to catch some gasps and a gagging sound five minutes later.
Bridgett’s arm was starting to fall asleep from the weight of his arm, and she was lifting it to shift her weight when the bus hit another bump and her hand slid down between his thighs. He woke up from, doubtless, dreams of a busty blonde or two. She burned at the thought of the male sex so close to her hand. Bridgett was a timid virgin; worse, everyone knew she was a timid virgin. Whiskey and lust made her head spin; his thighs seemed to burn her hand; his cock seemed to demand release.
He had kind-of sort-of propositioned her earlier in his well-known asshole fashion. All he had to do was ask and he could have felt her breasts all night long, but after saying she was lovely and wouldn’t it be nice to go out behind the building and play around like grown-ups, a phrase that at the moment seemed the height of daring, he spoiled the mood by saying, “Oh, wait, you’re just a girl. I’ll find someone else mature enough.”
He then turned around, and while she wasn’t sure if his elbow brushing her breast was intentional—he blushed in worry for a split-second, then as usual doubled down on the asshole-ish ness and leered at her as he sauntered off—it was just like him to spoil his chances for getting what she’d freely offer. Later, he had invited her to sit with him when everyone else had paired up. They sat there wordlessly in the dark, and after the people in the nearest seats had dozed off, he tentatively touched her hand, but she had pulled it back. She had felt him shrug and soon he had fallen asleep.
Suddenly he woke and seized her hand, a move that left her stunned in its audacity and naughtiness. She slowly shifted in her seat for ease of movement as he pulled her hand up his thigh under the blanket. Finally, she reached his zipper and found it already open for her. She ran her fingers up the gap in his trousers and almost immediately touched flesh. It was velvety under her fingers and as hot as sin; she ran trembling fingertips along the first penis she had ever felt, marveling at its length, probably ten inches.
It was true, then, what they said about this black man at least. She wrapped her hand around it and marveled at its girth as well and, remembering fascinating films she had seen of men and women manually pleasuring shafts, she gripped tightly and stroked it as she took the first steps into full sexual adulthood.
She did all the work. He sat there greedily as she followed the rhythm he set for her, and he breathed faster and soon throbbed in her pistoning hand. With a sudden thrust, he pushed up against her hand and a hot, sticky spurt filled the blanket and soaked her hand and arm. It was followed by ten more, and then he softened and rolled away from her in the seat, soon snoring again. She was stricken by a sudden disappointment in not seeing his cock delivering its load for her but curiously relieved he hadn’t tried anything more.
She realized that, in fact, she was thoroughly sick of him, his stupid teasing, his insufferable loutishness in which he was perfectly happy to use others to get what he wanted and then roll over and snooze contentedly. She raised her hand to her nose, smelled it curiously, shrugged, and then reached down with her other hand, found her sodden gash demanding release, and climaxed two minutes later harder than she ever had before.
She sat there listening. No one seemed to have awakened, and she rolled away from him and looked around. She wiped the ejaculate from her left hand idly on the blanket and broke out a wet wipe as she noted that Giselle had curled up next to Donna in the back seat, leaving the seat by Gabrielle open. She got away from him and sat next to her, curling up under her blanket. Gabrielle muttered quietly, “Giselle…” and leaned against her. Her breath, too, stank of a distillery, and the warmth and softness of her breast pressing into Bridgett’s arm made her body come alive again.
“No, Bridgett,” she whispered back.
“Pretty Bridgett. Mince, douce amie.”
Bridgett had had cute girl crushes before, but this was suddenly much more heated and demanding. It was as if she hadn’t rubbed off at all just minutes before, and in surprise but no great shock she felt Gabrielle’s hand slide between her thighs. So the two were. in fact, an item, as some had muttered. She had assumed they were simply close friends because of being relative outsiders, two young women from Quebec cast off into an American school, and unlike the others not as nasty in their insults about the timid virgin.
In three seconds, Gabrielle’s hand had reached her crotch and slid under her panties. She rubbed her skillfully, clearly used to what she had found, and easily roused Bridgett to depths of lust. With trembling fingers, she slid her fingers to Gabrielle’s thigh to find no cloth, only flesh, and as she slid her fingers up her thigh, Gabrielle spread her thighs and seemed to smile in the darkness. “Pretty Bridgett,” she muttered again, and Bridgett soon after reached her sodden, swollen lips and matted hair.
She rubbed the lips, hearing the distant squishing of her muffled muff, and copied Gabrielle’s actions; with her other hand, she reached across to feel Gabrielle’s bra-free breasts, smaller than her own but delightfully firm and capped by solidly erect nipples. Gabrielle slid two fingers inside her and cupped her mound, expertly holding her clit firmly against the palm of her hand as she brought her close. Bridgett stared unseeing into the dark as she, in turn, held Gabrielle’s cunt more intimately than she had ever explored herself, and they squished each other to climax, breathing as silently as possible.
The feel of another woman surrounding her fingers and another woman’s hand cupping her like an examining doctor in love with her filled her with fascination. When Gabrielle’s cunt squeezed down tightly on her fingers, it pushed her over the edge as well. Gabrielle then rolled toward her and kept her hand firmly in place as she slept working her fingers, so Bridgett continued exploring as well. She felt Gabrielle come alive again around her fingers, and she leaned over to kiss her as they surged to another climax. Gabrielle rolled away from her after her orgasm, and Bridgett rolled over away from her and fell asleep, exhausted, satisfied, and bothered.
The next morning Gabrielle shook her awake and looked distractedly at Giselle curled up in Donna’s arms. She then looked at Bridgett quizzically, seemed on the point of asking her something several times, and finally just looked away and muttered, “Quelle douce rêve.” Slim later woke up embarrassed at what seemed the aftermath of a nocturnal emission that had soaked his blanket, cum stains all over his pants and shirt, as his resurgent erection poked out of his pants for all to see once he stood and the blanket fell off.
He looked appraisingly at Bridgett, who glared at him in disgust once and ignored him resolutely after that; as the ribbing started, he forgot her entirely as he dodged assholish questions about his masculinity. During the rest of the year, Gabrielle and Giselle started having sleepovers with Donna, leaving Bridgett wondering what she should have said in the moments it mattered for Gabrielle to have invited her to join them. For his part, Slim remained insufferable, crude, and bullying. Bridgett remained virginal for a couple of years, timid for many more, and often thought back in fevered masturbatory fantasies at the bus ride that in its own way never ended for her.
~~~
Ten years later. Bridgett boarded and was pushed by the people behind her to the back of the plane. It was her fourth flight in her new job putting out fires and conducting training for an international conglomerate. The chance to travel throughout Asia on short notice suited her perfectly, but having to travel economy class was certainly not a perk.
She found her seat on the aisle with only a window seat beside her, halfway between the wing and the tail. She looked out the window and saw nothing interesting in the late night darkness. She planned to catch four hours of sleep and perhaps manage two more after landing, assuming she made it to her hotel quickly enough.
Fingers drummed the back of the seat in front of her. She looked up, the businessman in the aisle smiling down at her, and she stood up to let him past her. He was tall, well dressed even at night, and showed no embarrassment at pushing past her with a prominent erection leading the way. She smiled; he looked a bit like Slim but acted civilized. He sat down, she sat down, and holding out his hand, he said, “Larry.”
“Bridgett.”
He smiled at her shining red hair. “O’Shaughnessy?”
“O’Malley,” she smiled back.
They chatted for a few minutes, Larry charming her the suavest any man had ever romanced her, teasing at times and coy at others, but clearly taken with her. The plane then started moving, noise built, and the rattling gave way to soaring as they launched into the sky. After announcements, the lights were lowered; after another thirty minutes, the cabin was dark. Larry snoozed beside her, his arm and leg pressed against her side and leg, his blanket adjoining hers.
For once, Bridgett enjoyed economy hell. The warmth of his body tantalized her, the turbulence pushing his arm into her breast or his knee more firmly against hers, and suddenly his hand reached hers. She felt herself back in her one night of passionate abandon and felt herself wettening as her stomach tightened and her loins tingled. She had had three lovers; all three had been decent men, nothing too exciting but good to learn from, and none of them had ever raised her to such a fever pitch as the warm flesh driving her crazy by simply pressing against her.
She made out his face in the darkness trying to read her in the darkness, and then peeked around the cabin. The people across from her were sleeping turned away from her; the others in her view were snoozing in uncomfortable positions so as not to face in their direction. He pulled her hand under her blanket and then slid it under his. She leaned into him, kissed his cheek, and whispered quietly, “Yes.”
Slowly she moved her fingertips along his thigh and soon felt the swelling of his balls under the fabric of his trousers. After another minute, her fingers were lightly feeling his throbbing cock within his suit. Larry rumbled happily and turned slightly toward her, allowing her to cup his balls and rest her arm along his cock. She felt his flesh leashed inside his pants pulsing, desiring to escape, begging her to free him and pleasure him. Her blood pounded in her ears as her heart raced; her breath came hard and her face burned.
Suddenly his hand clamped down on her arm. He pushed her hand hard down on him as he thrust up against her. She squeezed his flesh tightly, stroking him through his trousers, until he unzipped for her. She felt his hot flesh soft against her fingertips, its hard throbbing core rising against gravity to meet her, and she grasped it in anticipation. Never since Slim had she been so eager and yet so fearful of grasping a cock.
She paused for a moment when she felt his hand on her knee to pull the hem of her skirt to her waist. She raised herself off the seat enough to slide her panties to her ankles, then sat down, sweeping her panties toward Larry with her foot. She returned her left hand to the solid flesh that fascinated her like a dangerous snake needing prey and felt Larry’s hand slide up her thigh and cup her cunt.
She gasped quietly in pleasure and felt him raise his hand slightly and expertly caress her, the pressure of his palm on her mount raising her to a fever pitch as his fingertips circled her clit. She stroked his flesh with ragged motions, struggling for breath as his fingertips descended and then slowly worked inside her, receding and then pushing a millimeter further inside her with each cycle. His left arm crossed his body to cup her breasts; she heard a low appreciative, “Mmm,” as he hefted them, obviously pleased by their size.
Their breathing was quick and shallow as they exerted themselves in silence. His cock felt massive, twice as long as her fist was wide and so thick her thumb only barely touched the tip of her middle finger. For his part, his hand was talented and he had three fingers inside her to the last knuckle as he cupped her cunt, taking possession of her like Gabrielle had done so perfectly ten years before. Remembering Gabrielle’s cunt under her own hand pushed Bridgett over the edge, flooding Larry’s hand seconds before his cock sprayed onto her hand and all over the underside of the blanket in his lap.
He wiped his cock quickly and bunched up the blanket so as not to stain his trousers, then leaned over and whispered so quietly she felt his words in his breath on her ear as much as heard them, “Toilet. You now. I’ll be there in three minutes.” She stood up as silently as a nervous cat and glanced around, her superior night vision once again allowing her to see no one was taking notice of them. A stewardess peeked out of the mid-economy station, glanced around, watched her for a second, and ducked back in the station, letting the curtain fall closed.
She walked quietly to the very rear, where only two unlucky souls were seated. She slipped in, the light dim, until the door closed. A minute later she opened and closed it surreptitiously, as if leaving. Three minutes later she heard a light scratch and opened the door for Larry, who locked it and smiled at her.
She put her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him. Her tongue snaked into his mouth and she shuddered as he responded in the most passionate kiss she had yet experienced. He immediately reached up to her breasts; she helped him pull her blouse up to her armpits and slide up her bra to let him see the pale swollen flesh, fully erect pink nipples amid light freckles. He lowered his head to suck on them and she quickly unzipped him again, then undid his belt and button and stared down to finally see the thick black cock yearning upward toward her, throbbing as if shaking in anticipation like she was.
He then pulled her skirt up and breathed in with a hiss when he saw that her hair was a lighter red than that on her head, the hairs bunching up to the front like tongues of flame forming a fire. He whispered, “So beautiful, so red,” and she whispered back as she stroked his cock, “So beautiful, so black.”
“You want it?”
“I want it, I need it. You need a condom.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Then make me come. Don’t come inside me and I will make you so happy.”
He lifted her to sit on the tiny shelf that passed for a bathroom table and lifted her knees so he could see her swollen lips eager for him, and after marveling at the beauty of her shining slick pink flesh engorged for him like an open shellfish thrust home to the hilt in one stroke. Bridgett gasped and held on as he ravished her. Her body was fully alive, all of it, for the first time in her life during sex, the squishing of her cunt around his pistoning cock bringing her swiftly to climax.
He maintained control, his steady stroke into her pulsating center ensuring a massive climax followed the first within two minutes. She had only twice before ever climaxed during intercourse, and never anywhere so hard. She stared at his sweat-beaded face, shining black and beautiful in the garish light, his eyes closed in pleasure, then smiled when he opened them and stared thirstily at her blue eyes, clearly as turned on by her difference in coloration as she was by his.
She climaxed once more five minutes later, and he said quietly, “I’m close.”
She pushed him away, turned him to lean against the shelf and mirror, and sank to her knees. She had given head before, but only reluctantly and without taking the cum into her mouth, spraying it on her breasts for an appreciative audience, but tonight she was ravenous. She smiled up at him as she stroked him happily, her scent the quintessence of the dirty and obscene, and took his head into the back of her mouth in three bobs of the head.
He stared down at her in amazement, the beautiful white redhead pleasuring him like a king, and she put his hands on her head to let him know she wanted to give him his full pleasure. He gave a tentative thrust forward and she took it easily, so he pumped her mouth regularly and let her see his pleasure in his eyes.
His precum coating her tongue, she struggled to swallow the spit filling and overflowing her mouth. She pumped his shaft as she licked and sucked his head and what else she was able to take into her, and in less than a minute after she gave him entrance into her throat, the first pulse of sperm flooded into her, nearly choking her as she struggled to swallow all of it.
The next spurt was easier, and after that, she rode out his ejaculation easily, the dirtiness of her act fascinating her. Finally, she understood what she had missed before, and she smiled up at the man who, if virginity is only a lack of knowledge and not a blessed state of grace, had taken her virginity in the realest sense.
When he started to soften, he lifted her to her feet, turned her to lean against the mirror and shelf, and with some trepidation knelt before her. Clearly less at ease returning the favor, he nevertheless set to with gusto, if only to give proper thanks, and several times stopped licking her to stare in fascination at her cunt. Finally, he had two fingers deep inside her as he licked her clit, and she grabbed his head and held him in place as her strongest orgasm yet swept over her.
Finally, they were drained. He stood and she kissed him, the scent and taste of her sex perfect in her nose and mouth, and he left the toilet first. She left two minutes later to see a stewardess watching her, a pretty Korean woman in glasses, hair bun with the sticks through it, and boyish hips and firm breasts under the familiar uniform, so familiar she neither noticed it or its wearers any more. The stewardess blinked and smiled and stood aside to let her pass, allowing one sniff of the air to make clear she knew what had just happened. Bridgett looked at her and she simply smiled beatifically.
Bridgett sat next to Larry, who was about to nod off but like a gentleman had waited for her return to let her settle herself and lean against him as they settled themselves for sleep. They snoozed for two hours, only waking when the plane touched down, and Bridgett looked away from him, flustered suddenly by what she had done.
She grabbed her carry-on as soon as the seatbelt sign was extinguished, leaned over to say quietly, “Thank you; good-bye,” and hurried off the plane before Larry could catch up with her. She rushed through customs and made it to the hotel shuttle bus in record time, and once she was in her room she wondered at her sudden fright and shameful abandonment of a new lover, and with tears in her eyes went straight to sleep.
~~~
Over the next three months, Bridgett met four new lovers in the same way. Outside the plane she lived almost the life of a workaholic nun given to red-eye flights; for the plane, she dressed pantyless, started taking the pill, and sensed immediately, intuitively, and with perfect accuracy when her seatmate was willing to be manually pleasured and return the favor.
She gloried in the hand jobs she gifted on fortunate and appreciative men and the intense, ready pleasure they gave her with even untalented hands, her body suddenly alive in the dark and receptive to every touch, and in every instance, she ducked out on them afterwards. She nearly giggled hysterically after greeting a client, “I just flew in from Taipei, and boy, are my arms tired!”
Near the beginning of the fourth month, Bridgett approached her seat hoping Larry would be next to her, but instead a beautiful South Asian woman impeccably dressed in a business suit looked up at her from the window seat and smiled. She smiled back in sudden warmth and introduced herself after settling herself in her seat.
“My name is Lavanya,” she smiled back. “Pleased to meet you. Think it will be a hard flight?”
“It’s always been a decent flight.”
“Do you make it often?”
“Often enough. My job requires it probably twice a month. I fly everywhere.”
“Kansas?”
She laughed, “No, not anywhere exotic like that.”
They laughed and Bridgett again remembered Gabrielle responding passionately to her hand; she flushed and Lavanya looked at her curiously. “Hot?”
“A little.”
She shivered slightly, “That will pass, friend, that will pass. I already need a blanket.”
As she spread her blanket over her, Bridgett watched closely, seizing the opportunity to examine Lavanya’s figure. She was well-rounded, her chin slightly sagging, waist-length silk-glossy hair in a seductive pile on her head and neck, light brown skin tight and fresh; her breasts sagged noticeably, while her waist was a little plump and showed little fall between breast and hip. Her eyes danced above a charming smile on both sides of her most prominent feature, a prominent nose that Bridgett associated with Persians.
Once the plane was aloft, Bridgett asked where she was from.
“India.”
“Yes, but where?”
“Jabalpur, originally. Do you know it?”
“No.”
“Well, if you look at a map…” She raised the armrest under her blanket and moved next to Bridgett, then put her hand on Bridgett’s left knee. “If this is… Jodhpur, near Pakistan…” and then on her right knee, “and this is… Calcutta, then this,” and she put her hand between her knees, “is New Delhi, and here,” and she ran her fingertips slowly and tantalizingly three inches below the knees right between her thighs, “is where I am from. Down here,” and she ran her hand most of the way up Bridgett’s thighs, watching her closely as her skin threw up goosebumps, “a bit further, is Sri Lanka. It’s very hot and humid there, a thick jungle…”
Bridgett whispered, “Yes, that’s so,” and Lavanya smiled at her fluster.
They stared into each other’s eyes and Lavanya asked, “And where are you from?”
“The US.”
“Which state?”
“Missouri. Know of it?”
She smiled coyly, “I am not entirely sure.”
Bridgett put her hand on the middle of Lavanya’s right thigh. “This is New York.” Lavanya nodded. Bridgett then grasped the middle of her left thigh. “Seattle is here.” Her hand rested between her thighs then and slid down two-thirds of their length, Bridgett barely daring to breathe as the firm flesh slid under her fingers, Lavanya staring deep into her eyes. “It’s about here.”
“So, have you ever been to Texas?”
Bridgett nodded, “Yes, it’s a hot grassy plain; you sweat a lot there.”
“True, but I’ve been to Texas… where the grassy plain is. It’s very dry there.”
“You have to think of Houston.”
“Oh yes, sodden, like a steam bath most of the year, rich growth, built on a swamp so the whole place is soaked constantly…”
“Exactly.”
They smiled. The lights were then shut completely off and Lavanya yawned and said, “I need to catch some shut-eye. Perhaps in my sleep, I will travel. Sri Lanka is very nice…”
She closed her eyes and settled in, the armrest still raised, her right thigh pressed hard against Bridgett’s left, and Bridgett sat there in the dark drenched in anticipation and sharp fear, her hand itching to slide onto Lavanya’s thigh but restrained by the fear of offending her. In a couple of minutes, the plane hit a spot of turbulence and Lavanya woke long enough to take Bridgett’s left hand and sigh happily.
Lavanya’s arm was over Bridgett’s; she had turned toward her so that Bridgett’s arm sank deep into her right breast, as soft and warm as she had dreamed. The bump caused Bridgett’s hand to slip under the weight of Lavanya’s arm, and perhaps, Bridgett surmised feverishly, a slight pressure downward, causing her hand to travel from just south of New York well toward Iowa. Lavanya vocalized a happy purr just loud enough to hear and her head slid slightly closer to Bridgett’s neck.
The scent of her hair and skin intoxicated Bridgett almost as much as the soft weight of her breast. The air and darkness pressed in on her, enveloping her, concealing her, freeing her to pursue the stabs of desire the darkness and closeness of the seating aroused in her, the realization that their acquaintance was for just a few hours. The rushed strokes and spurts of her men had been eminently satisfying, yet as with Gabrielle, there was something more addictive, almost narcotic here in her desire for Lavanya. She slid her hand another inch up Lavanya’s thighs, and as her hand moved, Lavanya’s thighs spread slightly.
At this angle, Lavanya’s hand did not rest so easily on hers. When she moved her hand another half-inch, Lavanya’s hand slid off, perhaps under simple physics, perhaps intentionally, and landed in Bridgett’s lap. Lavanya’s head slid as well to rest on Bridgett’s shoulder, then shifted in sleep to better fit its overjoyed pillow. Bridgett moved her hand another inch up her thigh and Lavanya shifted in her seat in such a way as to push her crotch almost all the way to Bridgett’s hand.
Bridgett paused a moment and looked around; no one was awake, apparently. She pondered a moment and slid her hand the rest of the way, finding no panties, only a steaming, drenched thatch around swollen labia. As Bridgett felt the gates to paradise open freely to her fingers, Lavanya slid her hand up her thighs all the way to Sri Lanka, leaving no doubt as to her intent, and kissed Bridgett on the neck. As Bridgett’s fingers danced inside the wet furrow offered freely to her, Lavanya’s fingers found her own furrow open to them, no panties in the way, and with no ado, her index finger settled on Bridgett’s clitoris and began circling it delicately.
Bridgett automatically held her mount in her hand, feeling her fingers sink inside Lavanya, and gripped tightly as she worked her cunt. Her right hand tilted Lavanya’s head to let them kiss, then sank to feel her breasts, no bra covering them, nipples erect. Lavanya felt her breasts with her extra hand in turn, and the shock of Lavanya’s passion shook her to her core.
They rubbed quietly, fingers squishing inside each other, and somehow multitasking her way to heaven, Bridgett managed to unbutton Lavinia’s blouse enough to slip her hand inside to feel her breasts. The combination of her tongue fucking Lavanya’s mouth, both her nipples in one hand, and her cunt in the other pushed Lavanya over the edge, pushing herself out of her seat as she humped Bridgett’s hand furiously. Her cunt squeezed tightly as her body went rigid, and with three or four dozen pelvic thrusts she satisfied herself joyfully and in utter silence against the hand gripping her tightly.
She collapsed in relief about ten seconds before Bridgett climaxed, squeezing her thighs shut on the hand working her. Lavanya devoured her mouth as she circled her fingers inside her hard and fast against the spot she discovered gave Bridgett the most joy, and her hand remained in position when Bridgett’s body finally collapsed in exhaustion.
After a minute, Bridgett whispered quietly, “Toilet. Four minutes. Me first.” Only with Larry had she gone to the toilet in the past, the overwhelming need to see his black body almost as deep as her need to see and taste Lavanya’s. They took occupation of the toilet without any problem and watched each other avidly as they opened their blouses and fell into an embrace. The beautiful brown of Lavanya’s breasts pressed against her own creamy white intoxicated both of them, and soon Bridgett leaned over to suck on her breasts.
Lavanya purred and pressed down on her shoulders, and soon Bridgett had pushed her back onto the shelf and pushed up her skirt to expose her thick hairs. The odor was overwhelming as she leaned in to taste another woman for the first time, and she hesitated to take the final plunge as she examined closely what she had felt, thick purple lips hanging down raggedly for her to kiss and suck on, erect clit ready for her lips. She looked up to see Lavanya watching her with pride in seducing a beautiful younger lover. Lavanya reached down, cupped her cheek tenderly, and reached back to hold her head, pushing Bridgett forward as she leaned in and ran her tongue along the heated lips soft and wet and eager for her touch.
Lavanya whispered, “My beautiful girl, please love me with that sweet mouth.” Bridgett obeyed, reveling in the power she had over Lavanya’s pleasure. Lavanya purred and murmured as Bridgett’s mouth and tongue and fingers devoured her, exploring her thoroughly as she licked deeply. She settled in on what she herself loved, holding her clitoris between her lips and flicking it lightly with her tongue as her fingers entered her. Lavanya whispered, “You’ll kill me. Don’t stop, I need it so bad.”
Bridgett began thrusting her fingers into Lavanya, three of them deep into her belly as the flushed labia folded around them like a sheath; she felt the strong pulsations she knew from her own belly in the moments before orgasm as the critical rhythm established itself. Lavanya’s body circled under her tongue, Bridgett’s head held firmly in place as Lavanya concentrated on nothing but her own pleasure, and with a sudden thrust she shoved her cunt fully against Bridgett’s face, thighs squeezing her head, spasm after spasm nearly breaking Bridgett’s fingers. In unison, a small, fast orgasm washed spontaneously through Bridgett, leaving her drenched and ready to use Lavanya’s face for much greater peaks.
Lavanya lifted her to her feet and devoured her mouth, reaching down to explore Sri Lanka. Bridgett pushed impatiently on her shoulders and gasped as Lavanya dropped immediately into position and buried her face in her cunt, sucking and finger-fucking her deeply from the start. Bridgett came repeatedly, four or five orgasms draining her in the space of ten minutes as she bit her lips to keep from screaming.
Lavanya stood and whispered, “You have the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen. Such a beautiful shade of red. Is it amber?”
Confused, Bridgett replied, “No, it’s Bridgett.” Then the meaning came to her and they laughed.
“Never mind,” said Lavanya, “as long as I get to suck on it all weekend, I don’t need to know what the color’s called.” She then kissed Bridgett quickly and exited swiftly. Two minutes later Bridgett went out. She looked around. All the passengers were asleep; a stewardess was watching her quizzically through thick black-frame glasses that looked vaguely familiar, then smiled and watched her fixedly as Bridgett walked back to her seat.
She and Lavanya dozed hand in hand under the blankets for an hour and were shaken awake by the landing. They helped each other take down their carry-on luggage and filed out of the plane, passing several stewardesses dressed identically, differing only in facial features, one in thick black-framed glasses smiling knowingly at the two of them as they passed.
Lavanya smiled happily, “I should have two days free. Join me.”
“Yes, please, and may I have another?”
They laughed and passed through Korean customs. The call of nature demanded Bridgett go to use the restroom for its intended purpose for once. “I need to use the facilities,” she said, and Lavanya nodded and stood to wait by the entrance to the bathroom. The line was long, and when Bridgett came out fifteen minutes later, Lavanya was nowhere to be seen. Despondent at being ditched, Bridgett moped her way to the next shuttle bus and made it to her hotel room in time to sleep five hours before her first meeting. She fell asleep in a deep gloom that didn’t entirely lift for several months.