IN WHICH THE PLANE WASN’T FULL, BUT I STILL MIGHT GET BUMPED.
In the airplane bathroom, in First Class but still hardly spacious — I was suddenly brought up close and personal with Apollo, 38, the hot Greek god who’d dropped from the sky to start my vacation with a bang — a concept he was apparently taking quite literally.
But it was hard to say what was more thrilling, his tongue passionately exploring my mouth, or the dips the jet was making from the turbulence. The seatbelt light had been flashing, and now the captain’s voice came over the PA.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it appears we’re experiencing some turbulence, and it looks to be extended. Please return to your seats and fasten your seat belt.”
Intuiting what I was thinking, Apollo stopped kissing me and shook his head, grinning.
“Let’s ride this one out,” he said — yes, another concept he was apparently taking quite literally. Because his enthusiasm was growing: if I couldn’t tell from his heart bursting against my tits, then that dictator in his pants was compellingly hard evidence.
The plane lurched again, and he braced his arm on the wall while I held onto his hips for dear life. As he cast his eyes down to my chest with my plunging neckline, I knew what was next, and I welcomed it.
“What are you carrying here, two melons?” Apollo laughed.
Without moving my eyes from his, I slipped one strap of my dress off my shoulder, then the other. My honeydews — Honey, DOs! — were still in the dress, but now ripe for the picking.
He looked down again, drew in a deep breath, and pulled the top of my dress down. My girls sprang forward, eager for attention.
Apollo exhaled and emitted a very satisfied “Aaaah,” caressing my nipples lightly with his finger tips, then a little harder as they became excited and erect.
“Such beautiful, ripe melons,” he exclaimed, “I must have a taste.” Bending his legs slightly, he lowered his head and went in with his mouth.
Now my arms were braced against the wall, the plane lurching every now and then. Apollo circled my nipples, expertly flicking his hot tongue on their tips, sending thrills up inside of me. Then he began sucking them, first lightly and then gradually increasing the intensity, the tantalizing pressure mounting.
Mounting, in fact, was a concept I was apparently going to be taking quite literally.