Name: Ms. Student 05/01/19
Airline: Delta Air Lines
Flight Number: can’t remember
From: LHR To: SLC
Time: Red-Eye
Aircraft: Not Sure
Location: Coach Class
Altitude: 30,000+
The Story: I was a student on a short ~2 week vacation back to my hometown from university. Was flying solo as usual in the economy class because flying on a student budget is a punch to the wallet. Partner in question was at least a decade and a half older and a complete stranger. No regrets.
I was in the aisle seat with a window seat to my left nearby the back of the plane. I’ve been on enough flights to know not to expect anything, but lo-and-behold – a tall, blonde, British, and smoking hot man comes to the overhead bin above me, put his belongings in, shut it, and then turned to me. Had tattoos. Definitely didn’t seem like my type. Then as I noticed him, he smiled. Never mind, maybe my type. I smiled stupidly back, confused. He waved to me. I get even more confused. Then he gestured to the seat next to me. I hop out of my seat to let him sit, apologized, and tried to hide my internal panic. Then as I sat down, my fly slid down. I panicked further, pulled it up, and stared at the back of the seat in front of me for a few mortifying seconds. Oh god, I remember thinking, this was the next ten hours of my life.
The armrest between us originally was pulled down by a flight attendant before takeoff for safety measures. The man was pretty tall and muscular and obviously rather uncomfortable in his seat. Our shoulders were already occasionally brushing against each other. After a while I felt both guilty and daring, so forgoing the consequences, I just pulled up the armrest separating us. He was a bit surprised but said nothing, so we left the elephant in the room. We had a few light conversations – his politeness to the flight attendants, his neatness in cleaning up after his meals and mess – all these were ringing “he’s a catch!!” No wedding rings, I checked to make sure. Then he went and got me snacks after coming back from a restroom trip.
My attraction to him was already through the roofs. Thus begun the next hours of absolute frustration – our arms kept brushing against each other. His right arm was by his side and his fingers brushed against my thighs – I was wearing shorts in preparations for the destination – and we both were aware. It was one of those things where “I know you know I know you know” and neither of us moved. It did help, though, the warmth of his fingers were keeping my left high warm. At some point we got our blankets out, as I got sick of the cold at some point. There was 6 full hours of just touching and brushing arms at this point. You wouldn’t believe the sexual tension – you could cut it with a fork. Our fingers crossed through the sheets. He leaned over and told me he was “quite comfortable” with things, asking how I felt. Being the awkward, already very horny person I am, I replied with a question and asked if he was alright with how things were going.
He replied by grabbing my hands. Then my thighs. Over the blankets, and then slid underneath to touch my bare skin. I reached over to his legs and started drawing patterns. I definitely remember mentally cursing his decision to wear jeans. He kept looking at me. Whatever made his gaze as intense as it was wasn’t fair. He didn’t bother to undo my shorts, he just slid through underneath my underwear and started fingering me to oblivion. He was obvious very, very experienced; I’d be way more surprised if he wasn’t at that age and with those looks and charisma. I couldn’t even undo his jeans without his help, but at least my frustration amused him. His accent too – absolutely destroyed me. And his voice, it was so sweet and soft that the curses escaping him was so juxtaposed in reality that I had a hard time trying to get my brain to work straight.
Anyways, he got me off from behind. Never even stopped his pace even as people walked in our direction. I was a shaking mess and had to take a good minute to find my breathe. Then I finally had time to focus on him. He had to help me figure out how he wanted it as I had long term but numerically few relationships before. I had a great time once I got into the rhythm, and god I wished it was me that he was rocking into, not just my hands. Told me faster, harder, not to stop – wasn’t sure if anyone around us heard or saw but we could care less by that point. He came and then we giggled into each other for a bit afterwards. Leaned on one other as we let afterglow wash over us. Honestly he was the first sexual encounter I had after ending a very serious relationship a few months beforehand and I couldn’t have been more satisfied.
Never got his name. Pointed it out and he asked if it mattered.
It made it hotter and more anonymous, so not at all. He did seem stressed before and during the flight so I hope what occurred at least relieved him from whatever life was throwing at him for at least a moment. It certainly did for me, and I wish him the best in whatever lies in his future because there’s no way in hell he doesn’t have options.
But yeah, in the end I guess we technically didn’t actually make it to the mile high club. I still consider myself an honorary member, though. One last line I clearly remembered him whispering in to my ear: “How does it feel, having a stranger making you cum?”
Absolutely insane.