bloody mary

I almost came back with nothing. I was ready to apologize about how I had failed you - how I had nothing for you but a few guys staring at my ass here and there. Whew. I can't say that this is as exciting as I had hoped, but it is something. And, anyway, businessmen in airports, especially airport bars, are truly ripe for the picking. So, given the fact that I was in four (airports, not always in the bar) over the last week, I would have felt as though I had lost my touch if I couldn't have netted something mildly tasty.

If I sound like someone who preys on vulnerable, semi-drunk men on business trips, it is only because I am and I do. For whatever reason, though, the first three airports were dry. Literally. The ban on liquids must have been making people tense.

I spotted a perfect candidate buying gum in the store next to my gate, he was even wearing a tie, which kills me, but he got on another plane. I was resigned by the time we boarded. I had a window seat and the row was still empty when I sat down. I put my bag under the seat and as I sat back, I could see a man in a pinstripe shirt - yes, a pinstripe shirt - making his way down the aisle. Please please please please... sit... right... there. Nice.

Older, in his fifties maybe, ring, briefcase, slight paunch. Not that he could tell I was looking. My magazine was suddenly riveting.

I went into high gear - only two hours and forty minutes to get this show on the road. I hate to bore you with my methods. The usual rooting around in my bag, which involves breasts peeking out of my shirt, the utterly cliched spreading of my legs just a bit more than is really necessary, the wandering, restless hands. He looked over three or four times but didn't say anything until after we took off, when he, finally, asked if I lived in New York.

That is always the beginning of the end.

Blah blah blah, pleasantries exchanged, the weather here the weather there, what do you do, he sells some kind of industrial material, blah blah blah, I am a writer, what do you write, well, a variety of things, both above and, well, below ground, really, that's interesting, what do you mean, well, you can read some later if you like, sounds good.

Me back to my magazine, he opens his briefcase, pulls out some papers, starts making notes. Flight attendants come, leave a club soda for me, a bloody Mary for him, could this be any easier?

Waaaaaaiting.... Waaaaaaaaiting... I am drawing something on a notepad and he asks if I am an artist. I say that I make a lot of art, so I may qualify. We have a longish discussion about what constitutes art, and he puts away his papers and the bloody Mary is kicking in and I still have over an hour and a half to go.

He asks if I sell my drawings, and I say that I can't really think about that, that I have to just make things without thinking of them as income generators, but that I do other things to try to support my art habit. Like what, he asks, like write, I say.

I tell him a bit about the more academic writing that I do. He asks to see a snippet, and I open my laptop and show him a section of a piece I am writing for a journal. He reads that, and I laugh and say that this is actually not really where the big money is. He says, oh, and I say, yeah, the other writing I do is a bit less... learned.

Oh, he says, and laughs. Do I get to see that, too? You may, I say, but only something fairly innocent since I have only known you an hour. So I bring up a story that I have been working on for a magazine that is not exactly an outright porn mag, but more of an erotic lit publication. Whatever that means.

He orders another bloody Mary. Shouldn't this count as some kind of upgrade? Businessmen should have to pay a fee to sit next to me for two hours, dammit.

He reads. I wait. So wonderful.

Wow, he finally says, you weren't kidding. No, I wasn't. I count backwards from three... two... one...

Do you have any more?

As a matter of fact I do. I pull out another story, several notches raunchier and pass the laptop back over.

Now he is dying. I can't see what is going on because his little folding table is blocking my view, but he is clearly distracted. He reads to about halfway and then looks up. How much do you get for this, he asks.

Not that much, really, but it buys me a bit of time to write about other things, and to spend some time in my studio. I also get donations here and there from other... supporters of my work.

He asks if it is true. I say yes. Writing fiction bores me to tears. I can only write about things that have happened to me, or about things that I make happen so that I can write about them. I am smiling now. I don't think he understands why.

He keeps reading. I think he is a little embarassed now, but he is not going to stop. At the end, he laughs a little. Wow, he says again. I know, I say, but it gets the job done. I guess so, he says, but I should probably stop reading this stuff right now. I laugh. Sorry, I say.

He hands the laptop back to me, and I put it away.

He tries to make conversation, but he is flushed now, moving his empty cup around on the table. He asks how long I have been doing this kind of thing, how old I am, etc. He is talking a bit more quietly now, so I have to lean towards him to hear.

I wish I were reading that at home, he says, and I say, I know, it would be more fun. Absolutely, he says. I could just close the door to my little office, and, you know, have fun with it. Right, I said.

Sounds like you have had a lot of interesting experiences in your life, he says. A few, I say, just a few. But I started out very innocent in many ways. I was actually a virgin until I was almost twenty seven. At least, with men.

Oh, he says, and he is almost whispering now. The noise of the engines has gone down a notch and no one is talking around us. I would tell you about what happened when I was twenty seven to open my... eyes, I said, but I think I would be entertaining most of the economy section of this plane.

I think you are right, he said. Maybe you could write it?

I thought this was a hilarious idea and pulled my laptop out again. I moved into the middle seat, just next to him, so he could see the screen and started typing. I have cut and pasted what I typed below.

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So, I lost my virginity, to penises, when I was twenty seven. If we were flying to Australia, I would tell you how I lost my virginity to other things earlier, but we only have an hour or so left, so this will have to do.

(The man in front of us just turned around to look... did he hear us talking earlier?)

This story is actually very sweet. Very vanilla in a way. But you asked ;)

I was dating a woman when I first saw this guy. He came into a cafe where I worked. I knew almost immediately that I wanted him.

I'll skip all of the seduction stuff, but I actually didn't have to work too hard. he was really smart. Once we started talking, it was pretty much a done deal. I'll call him C.

***I am inserting this later... I could sort of see what was going on under his fold out table from my new vantage point, and the poor man was in trouble. At one point, his cock was actually pushing up on the bottom of the table a bit, which really killed me.***

C and I teased each other for a long time, but the night he finally got in the door, so to speak, he was over at my house. We had this joke that I was going to end up being the oldest virgin on the planet. He said that he felt it was his duty to save me from this fate. I said I was kind of enjoying the status it gave me at that point, and would hate to join the crowd.


***My travel companion laughed at this point and said something about that being hard to believe.***

C asked if he could at least try, and if I said no, then he would stop. RIGHT, I said. I am just going to lick you, he said. And you are going to do this better than a woman, I said. Good luck.

So he pushed me back on the bed - it was a single futon, actually, and he was sort of kneeling on the floor. He pushed down on my bladder a bit, which felt really good, actually, and just put his mouth over my underwear. Which were white, by the way, because that is what virgins wear... white underwear. ;)

All he did was blow hot air, right onto my clit. I had never had anyone do that. I loved it. He did that for a long time before he very slowly spread open my legs, bent one of my knees a bit, and pushed it back.

Then he slid his toungue over my underwear, which was now marred by a huge wet spot, over to the crease of my leg and under the elastic. He sort of pushed it out of the way and worked his way back over towards my pussy lips.

***Ok, he was fucking ROCK hard now reading this. Which, of course, makes me insane. But I was kind of stuck too, so I kept typing.***

He was very gentle with my clit, which I loved, but at one point I looked down and saw that his cock was out and he was rubbing it on the edge of the bed while he licked me. Even to this day, I can't tell you what the memory of this does to me. I could see his hips moving up and down, the pink tip of his cock appearing and disappearing, the precum oozing onto my sheets making a stain that I would find later.

He started licking me at the same speed that he was jacking himself on the bed. I was moaning openly at this point.


***Speaking of precum. Major leakage showing through for my businessman. I stopped and whispered this to him and he nodded but told me to keep typing.I started up again, but he stopped me and put his mouth close to my ear. If I were at home, I'd jerk off so hard right now my cum would hit the wall. Fuck. Oh, man.***

(Ok, I can see you are having some trouble right now. But this last part is pretty fast anyway, so you can make it... ;)

C was getting really excited now, his shaft pressing into the edge of the bed, hips jerking, jeans around his knees. He slid his tongue deeper into me, and slid a finger in with his tongue. He fucked me deeply with his finger while working my clit with his tongue, and then reached around to my asshole with his other hand. This was a first for me at that time, but he slid his index finger into my asshole before I knew what he was doing. And that was it. I was clinically insane, moaning, screaming, panting, my cunt bearing down on his hands, each in a hole. He slid more fingers into my vagina and started pumping them faster, just leaving the finger in my ass still and deep.

***Businessman in pain. I could see him try to scissor his knees a bit, putting some pressure on his balls, which must have felt like they were going to explode by now. So, of course I had to tease him...***

(How are you doing? I have to admit, I love making you crazy like this. I can see your swollen cock even as I am typing. I bet you would love to take me in the bathroom and bend me over that little, tiny sink right now. I bet you would love it if I could take that hard cock into my mouth and suck it deep into my throat. Do you like to fuck hard? Because I do. I can take it really hard... do you like to pound it? My cunt is wet right now...)

At the last moment, C slipped his cock in me. I think he thought that I wouldn't even notice - just replace fingers with cock and keep going. But I noticed. I absolutely noticed. And in that moment, as he hunched over me and I could feel the heat of him inside of me, his balls slapping against my wet skin, I thought - why the fuck did I wait so long?

I pulled my knees back and urged him on. Fuck me. Come on. Fuck me. Fuck me harder. Come on.

You are so tight, he said. So fucking tight. Ah... god....

Needless to say, we both came so hard that I think the neighborhood knew that I had finally been fucked.

(How are you? Deeeep breath. Didn't this make the flight go faster...lol :)

***He leaned over again. Come with me. I want to feel your tight pussy. Come with me to the bathroom. Ah, fuck. I want to fuck your little pussy.***

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I wish I could tell you that I went into the bathroom with him, but I didn't. He didn't want to walk to the bathrooms in the back because he said everyone would see his raging hardon, and I wouldn't go to the bathrooms in the front because I said everyone would see me follow him in there. So we were at an impasse.

He was actually pretty nice about it. I am going to imagine your titties while I am in there, he said. And if you change your mind... knock.

So up he went! Hilarious. Of course, now I was the one dying. But it is so easy for chicks. All we need is an airplane blanket over our lap. I moved back to the window, put my seat back and slid my hand between my legs. I came in, I kid you not, maybe three minutes or less. He wasn't even back from the bathroom. Just the thought of him in there... well, you have read enough of my fantasies to know what that did to me.

Just before I came, I did hold back for a minute, though. I love that moment, my finger resting gently on the rock hard nub of my clit, ready to explode, the walls of my cunt already contracting, vibrating. Wetness oozing from my pussy lips, longing for the feel of a long, hard shaft pushing its way in.

I came just as the bathroom door opened and I smiled at him walking back down the aisle as the orgasm rocked me.

So, there you go. I know... nothing particularly orignal or daring, but it was the best I could do in two hours and forty minutes. Time was running out!

I know I have been working and then away for what must seem like forever, but clearly, I have not forgotten my duty to you. I want to make you hard. A lot. I want you to imagine yourself with me, and jerk yourself off over and over while you read these words. I want you to think of me at the most inopportune moments and have to excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. I want to take care of you, and I want you to completely let go and use me for your pleasure. Because, conveniently for you, that is what gives me pleasure.

I have a houseguest today and tomorrow, which is going to drive me a bit mad since all I want to do is cum for you all afternoon. She is away for a few hours, so I might have some time, but I will try to be around next week.

I've missed you. If I haven't responded to your emails, please don't be mad. This is my first day home and with time to really read them.

So. Horny. I'll be thinking of you today.