A Stranger Introduced Me To The Mile High Club By Making Me Cum Like No One Has Before

Nicolee Camacho
Nicolee Camacho

“Ah, so you’re a window kind of girl.”

He said this with an air of nonchalance as he slid into the seat next to me. His arm brushed against mine and I could immediately smell his cologne, something foreign and heavy that reminded me of Scotch and machine oil. It was sexy.

I smiled. “Yeah, I love watching the takeoff.”

“Hmm. Takeoff’s always good, but it’s just the start. I like the landing.” His eyes flashed mysteriously at me. “The finish is the best part.”

I gave him a once-over—tight, navy blue jeans, a grey button down shirt slightly open at the collar and the sleeves rolled up. I always thought guys with their sleeves rolled up were fucking sexy. Something about the casual folds of the material, the way it gripped their forearms tighter, showed off their muscles and veins. He was beyond a doubt hot, and couldn’t be much older than me. His hair was jet black and smoothed back, his face slightly unshaven. I fought the urge to run my hands over his chin and feel his stubble prickle under my fingertips.

“You flown alone before?” He smiled at me, revealing two rows of perfect, stark white teeth. His body shifted towards mine, a fragment of an inch, and I felt myself take a nervous breath.

“Yeah,” I said, switching my attention to the window. He was making my body tingle, and I wasn’t sure if I was nervous or excited or both.

“Well that’s too bad,” he said, quieter this time as he leaned into me. I could feel his fingertips slide through the curtain of my hair. “Because…” he said slowly, letting his warm breath fall onto my neck, “I’d keep you from being scared.”

He let his last words linger before slowly pulling his hand back and running it over my shoulder and down my arm. I closed my eyes for a moment, attempting to regain my composure. Then I turned to him, slowly, meeting his eyes with mine. They were a delicious blue.

“I’d still like that.” I said, surprising even myself with my boldness.

The corner of his lip turned up into a smile and I could feel my entire body shudder. He was so damn sexy.

He leaned closer to me, close enough so I could smell his peppermint gum. He lifted his hand to my cheek and tenderly pushed my hair behind my ear, resting for only a moment before tracing the line of my jaw. “My name’s Gabriel,” he said, pausing with his fingertips cupping my chin. He tilted my face upwards so that my eyes were even with his.

“Roxanne,” I whispered, almost breathlessly.

“Roxanne.” He echoed my voice with his own, drawing out the ‘o’ with his sexy, foreign accent. I couldn’t quite place it, perhaps Italian, but before I could ask him, his hand was resting on my leg and I couldn’t breathe.

The plane began to gain speed, preparing for its departure. I could feel the rumbling of the cargo underneath and the trees began to whip past the window in blurs of greys and greens.

“Ready?” Gabriel whispered. His one hand squeezed my leg as his other pulled back my hair again, exposing the naked skin of my neck.

The plane began to rush forward, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred miles an hour. I had never been afraid of airplanes, but I could feel my stomach flutter. Gabriel’s nails dug slightly into my neck, pulling at the muscles along my collarbone seductively.

“Relax, Roxanne,” he said, “this is just the beginning.”

I swallowed, tensing, then releasing my jaw and leaning back in my seat.

He was right. This was the beginning, and I could already feel myself getting wet.

The plane took off, tilting both of us back in our seats. Gabriel’s hand drifted absentmindedly to the hem of my skirt and he toyed with it for a moment.

“I’d like to see what’s underneath.” He whispered, scratching my neck with his stubble.

The smell of his cologne was intoxicating. I reached over and grabbed his leg, squeezing at first, then gently stroking over the fabric of his jeans, reaching higher and higher. He tightened his grip on my leg, and I could tell he was starting to get anxious. In a plane with three connected seats, touching each other was near impossible.

But god, I wanted him so fucking bad.

The plane righted itself and the captain made an announcement about turning the seatbelt sign off. I looked over at Gabriel, whose eyebrows were furrowed and focused forward in an effort to stay composed.

It was my time to tease him.

I turned slightly in my seat and ran my fingers up and down his arms, feeling the thin cotton ripple with my touch. I lifted my fingers to his neck, tracing the collar of his shirt, then the veins, bulging and warm in his neck.

“I need you,” I whispered, pressing my lips against the biggest vein, “I’m starting to feel really, really scared.”

He lost it then. He turned to me, pulled my face to his, and kissed me roughly on the mouth.

“Now.” He grabbed my hand, excusing us from our seats, and past the clueless older man in seat C to the bathroom at the back of the plane.

I studied him from behind as we walked. His jaw was clenched, back muscles rippling, and veins thick and protruding in his forearms.

His body was visibly pulsing with longing. Just like mine.

We reached the back of the plane and there were no flight attendants in sight, just a family with squirmy children too preoccupied to pay any attention to us. I flipped the latch on the bathroom door and slipped inside, knowing he would soon follow and this would finally, finally happen.

The bathroom light flicked on and I studied myself in the mirror. I leaned in, examining my lips, red and slightly puffy from his aggressive kiss. The latch clicked and suddenly he was behind me, even taller and sexier when standing.

He locked the door behind us and pressed his body into mine. I could feel how hard he was through the thin fabric of my skirt. He hands ran over my body, slipping off my cardigan first, and locking eyes with me in the mirror as he kissed my shoulders tenderly.

I leaned my head into him and closed my eyes. I wanted him to take me slowly, but I knew there wasn’t enough time. He did too. With one swift movement, he thrusted me forward and pushed my skirt back. He fumbled with the condom, and I heard his quick intake of breath as he realized I wasn’t wearing underwear. Then I gasped as he entered me, throwing my hips against the metal edge of the sink.

I was so fucking wet that as he thrusted, we both moaned in unison. The plane shifted and rocked as if in rhythm with us, letting him get deeper and deeper. I reached for him, scratching his arms and back with my fingernails. He grabbed my shoulders and pulled them with every thrust.

I felt my eyes rolling back with pleasure.

I reached forward and leaned against the mirror, letting him enter me more fully. He pulled my face to his, kissing me aggressively again as his cock tensed. I could tell he was close, but didn’t yet want to cum.

He thrusted, quicker now, and I could feel my knees getting weak.

“Can I, please?” he asked, his accent thick and guttural.

He just asked for permission. Holy fuck, he was hot.

“Yes.” I said, in-between a moan. He thrust me against the sink again, hard enough that the water turned on, hiding the sounds of his heavy breathing as he came.

“Damn,” He said, slowly, pulling out and spinning me around. “Now you.”

Before I knew what was happening, he pulled off his shirt, laid it over the toilet seat, and roughly placed me on it.

“Put your legs on my shoulders,” he said. It was an order.

He knelt down, his back pressed against the wall of this tiny space. I admired his tan, rippling stomach muscles for a moment, but then lost all control as his tongue entered me.

He started slow, with thick pulses, but then alternated to fast flicks, sending shivers up my spine, making me cry out in bliss.

He was fucking good at this.

“Gabriel, I’m…”

He paused for a moment to make eye contact as I held my breath, my orgasm building. His smirk pushed me over the edge and I grabbed for him as I arched my back and released, feeling my body melt into his.

“I told you,” he said, a smirk glowing across his face as he leaned in to kiss me. “The finish is the best part.” Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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