by Vivien Vale
“Of course I’ll have you,” she whispers finally, and now all I can do is kiss her—a little harder this time.
“Where are we going anyway? I just asked for the same ticket you got.”
June doesn’t meet my gaze. Her eyes are downcast.
“I don’t think you’ll like it, but I’m going home.”
My brow furrows a little. “Home, to Nebraska?”
As I wait for her answer, I rummage around my brain for useless facts I might know about this place she calls home.
“I think Fred Astaire was born in Nebraska, wasn’t he?”
There. I knew I’d come up with something.
June laughs at me.
“Could be, I don’t know. It’s the only place I could go,” she adds, as if she needed to explain herself.
“You know what, babe?” I cup her cheek with my hand. “I’ll be happy wherever you’re happy. You know that saying ‘Home is where the heart is’? Well, my happiness is where my heart is, and my heart is with you.”
There’s a minute glint in her eyes. She bites her bottom lip—something she only does when she’s got mischief on her mind.
I glance around the cabin.
“Say, future Mrs. Abraham,” I lean right into her—she’s giggling already. “Since it’s going to take a little while to get to Nebraska, why don’t we retire to the toilet?”
Her eyes widen in mock shock. “And why would we do that?”
As she asks the question, her index finger trails an invisible line down my chest.
“Oh, I don’t know,” I whisper into her ear and bite her ear lobe. “Something to do with a little help cleaning up my face, making sure I’ve sustained no further injuries…and then, of course, I should check to…” I pause so I can place a few subtle, smoldering kisses on her neck, “make sure you’re okay.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” she mutters and puts her arms around my neck.
June
“Holy cow! This is the bathroom?”
Like anyone else who’s flown on a commercial airline, I have an idea what a first-class cabin looks like. Even when flying economy, they make you trek down the aisle, past the luxurious, generously-sized, and oh-so-comfortable-looking seats on the way to your cramped, crowded section of the plane.
However, even after seeing my share of first class cabins, and even after getting to sit in a first-class seat myself for this flight, I never would’ve guessed that the freaking bathrooms would be any different than the uncomfortable little lavatories you find on the rest of the plane.
Stepping into the bathroom just in front of Carter, the last thing I expected to see was marble flooring and a vase full of long stemmed roses on the counter.
Behind me, Carter laughs at my astonishment.
“Welcome to first-class, June.”
“Ohhhhh, first-class.”
Sarcasm suits me pretty darn well sometimes.
Like, for example, hurtling through the freaking sky at hundreds of miles an hour over the continental United States in the most luxurious space that dares call itself a restroom.
I always thought that the name restroom was a bit too gentle and euphemism-y.
The restrooms down at the old coffee shop or at Bill’s Diesel don’t look especially restful—at least, not to me.
But this first-class restroom facility? This is a place of rest.
A place of relaxation.
“Oh, come on June, don’t act like you haven’t been terribly impressed since you walked into the first-class cabin.”
The way he says this, with just a slight edge and silliness and the willingness to maybe take some of these trappings of big city luxury to task…well, I’ll just say it to him right out in the open.
“The most honest thing I can tell you is that this restroom is the first time I’ve been impressed with this first-class cabin.”
Okay, so maybe I’m not ready to say it out loud quite yet, but maybe I’m ready to demonstrate the sentiment in other ways.
“Are you impressed with the restroom…”
“Yes!”
“I was about to ask if you were impressed with me.”
Carter crosses his arms in front of his chest. He gives me a half-joking, half-serious look, with a little dash of silliness that’s turning out to be a pretty good look on him.
So far so good…but I was still unsure.
“Hmm. I’m not sure yet.”
“Not sure?” Uncrossing his arms, Carter takes a couple steps towards me with a wide-eyed look that is a bit hard to get a handle on.
It’d be easy for me to say it’s a bit of the ol’ wide-eyed excitement, maybe even a bit of naïve enthusiasm—although you’d think that was supposed to be my thing.
But, as Carter draws closer, there just seems to be something more to it—even if that something more is just that-the feeling of there being something more—yet you’re not sure what.
I’m not sure what, but whatever it is, it’s making me feel exceedingly hot in every sense of the word…along with other senses, which probably haven’t been invented yet.
He’s leaning towards me, leaning in slowly, then even more slowly, and with no dash of silliness or mystery or anything else besides…
“Just pure frigging heat,” I whisper just before our lips meet softly yet with desperation.
We stay like that, the heat rising, the want growing, mounting until I’m afraid we might be in violation of some sort of safety code. That thought just goes perfectly with the entire restroom.
“Okay, I’ll say it,” I remark after that fun bit of shaking ends, “I am officially impressed.”
“June, I know. You already yelled ‘holy cow!’ Don’t you remember?”
There’s no chance for me to respond, as we press our lips softly together again, then less softly, and then what I would describe—if asked to furnish a description—a kiss that tries to devour itself, with both of us fighting to take in as much of each other as possible.
Carter thought he was so clever with his hackneyed lean-down maneuver. It’s making me hot beyond the limits of what I could ever understand—but that is A-freaking-okay with me.
Hot beyond comprehension is a nice start, after all.
But it ain’t enough to keep me from turning that burner up a bit more by rising up to the balls of my feet, mashing my lips mercilessly into that beautifully bruised and battered face of his.
We must be traveling through another air pocket or something, because a ripple of strong vibrations rattles the whole world around us.
As we turn up the heat on each other, we’re well past giving a hoot about a tiny bit of turbulence.
When Carter clasps his palms on both sides of me just below my breasts, setting his fingers down lightly before digging in as I loll my head back with pleasure, no amount of cabin shaking and shimmying is going to stop this sweltering sky-high soiree.
It’s like I’m being shifted by some supernatural force as Carter digs his hands in harder and moves me over to the…
Toilet?
No…further. To a soft, purple chair next to the toilet.
That’s better.
It’s nice and comfy when I sit down, but boy, is he being, um, adamant today.
Carter leans down so fast, it’s like he’s freaking falling…but the next thing I know he’s smooching my neck with manic yet focused diligence.
“Oh, well, hey there!”
I’m hollering for his benefit, I think, but he doesn’t react directly, which makes me even hotter.
We start hitting another crazy air pocket as Carter drops to his knees. The total effect is enough to make me gasp, but the sudden rise in intensity is tempered for a nice little moment when Carter rubs a gentle hand on my belly.
“Oh, hey there again.”
“I can’t wait to taste your wet pussy and make you come over Ohio, then over Indiana, then twice over Illinois.”
“Eloquent.”
Again, no verbal resp
onse, just the feel of Carter’s hands on my legs, roughly massaging my skin, taking his time but sending the unmistakable message with every movement of his hungry hands that his appetite is ravenous and bottomless.
A delicate kiss just off the top of my thigh…a slightly less delicate kiss lower down, on my inner thigh.
Another slightly, but only slightly, less delicate kiss on my inner thigh, then another, rougher, needier kiss on my other thigh.
My hands, starting to tremble as if they were hitting some moderate turbulence of their own, start moving clumsily to pull up my skirt.
Frustration suddenly rushes though me, because my hands are vibrating with excitement and can’t move fast enough to get my skirt out of the way.
Abruptly, Carter’s hands are on either side of my skirt, pulling it down with almost startling efficiency.
“Read…my…”
No, I’m not going to finish.
I can’t.
Carter is back to kissing my thighs. He alternates from just above my knees, then stays on my left inner thigh as he moves rapidly upwards.
Those adamant kisses become softer, and then the sensation changes…
“Oh…dear…”
Carter’s tongue takes the place of his lips as he gets closer to the warm, tingling lips of my ready pussy.
“Holy…wow. Yes. That’s…yes.”
The tip of Carter’s tongue rubs around the outside of my pussy lips, staying so maddeningly close yet not touching the slick, excited realm of my womanhood quite ye—
“Oh, my dear sweet word, goodness me, fuck yes!”
There he goes, his tongue traveling gently up, down, and around. It feels so freaking amazing, but the promise of what’s to come has heat flushing through every inch of me.
Carter doesn’t get faster or harder with his movements like I expected. As his tongue slows, he seems to be getting more of my pussy with every lap and lick.
I can now clearly feel his tongue flattening against my pussy, setting every nerve in that entire region of my body on gosh-darned fire.
Carter’s licks simplify, turning into straight runs up my lips.
Slow runs. More like walks or a gentle sunset stroll…
A gentle stroll across a field of wheat at sunset that’s about to make me.
There’s another brief, intense pocket of turbulence—then stillness.
Carter’s tongue stops moving, staying where it was. The rapturous feeling is almost unbearable.
Carter’s tongue begins moving again, when there’s an impatient knock at the door.
“Hold your freaking hors…”
My body trembles, interrupting my own shouting. Oceans of bliss overtake everything within and around me.
And this was just the beginning.
Carter
“Fuck it, I’ll go piss in fuckin’ coach,” the Midwestern voice outside the door grumbles.
That’s a good decision, because we’re going to be in here for a while.
June and I stand up together, and our eyes find each other.
“Okay, that was once. Come on, city boy, you promised me a few more flying climaxes—and don’t you hold back, now.”
When I push her against the wall, a whooshing sound is heard, followed by an intense rose scent. Briefly, my eyes sting, and I can’t see anything.
“You pressed the room deodorizer,” she giggles and wriggles her body sideways a little.
“Who cares?” I murmur into her ear.
My hands are already busy exploring her curves. I didn’t need my eyes for that.
I’m hungry for more. I needed more, like a starved, crazy prisoner-of-war escapee, needing this tonic called June to get me back on my fucking feet.
Once my explorations of June’s bountiful body have driven me sufficiently mad—and the room deodorizer has cleared up—I shift my position to get a better look at the amazing fucking woman who’s sharing this tiny room with me.
The first thing I end up seeing is my reflection in the mirror, which freaks me the fuck out a bit. My face is black and blue all over, and the swelling around my eyes isn’t doing me any favors. I need to get my eyes away from this fucking mirror, stat.
My eyes find June’s eyes again, and my mouth finds her mouth again.
Slowly, gently, I push my tongue into her lips. It’s not rough, it’s not forceful, but the pent-up emotions are undeniable in every move I make.
A tiny moan escapes her lips as she tilts her head backwards.
My fingers brush over her silky skin. The sensation only leaves me wanting more. I wish I could just rip her clothes off. Unfortunately, it’s a little tight in here, and we’re both about to burst with famished anticipation.
So, it’s time to get right to it, clothes-ripping be damned.
I let my mouth move off her lips and brush her cheeks before biting into her neck. My lips pull at her skin, and I feel her fingernails dig into my neck and back.
With my right hand, I grab and lift her leg. She responds by wrapping it around my lower back.
At the same time, my teeth travel downward, biting into her all the way. I can see tiny marks from where I’ve ravaged her already.
“Fuck me, Carter,” she moans, and now her hands are back around my cock.
My head moves back, and I tilt it to the right.
“My, my, Mrs. Carter Abraham. Did you just use the word fuck?”
There’s no verbal response from June. She slaps me on the back and pushes her hips toward mine.
I get the message.
It’s time for my cock to enter her pussy. With one deft movement, I lift her skirt and pull her panties down. My index finger draws a little circle over her clit.
Her pussy is so wet. She’s well and truly fucking ready to take my cock.
Without further ado, I grab her hips and lift her up a little. Then I enter her slowly.
I try to be as measured as I can, but as soon as my cock enters the familiar territory, I struggle to keep control.
It’s as if my cock realizes it’s come home. Almost acting of its own accord, it seems to be drawn to her pussy.
And so, I start to pummel into her.
Her left leg’s now wrapped around my waist, and I’ve got one arm under her ass and the other around her waist.
The scent of rose is still lingering in the air from the deodorizer. For the first time, I notice the soft classical music playing.
Pavarotti singing Nessun Dorma, if I’m not mistaken.
I’m swept up by the music, and I find myself fucking her in time to Luciano.
The deep tones of the tenor send a shiver down my spine, and I see June close her eyes. Her lips seem to be moving a little. I wonder if she’s humming the words.
I must take June to Italy to see live opera. Maybe before the baby is born.
It occurs to me how much we’ll have to try and do before this baby is born and our lives are taken up with changing diapers, feedings, and living on less than five hours of sleep a night.
There’s more banging on the door. It rattles a little from the impact.
This is getting annoying, but at least the goddamn turbulence seems to be over.
June pulls a face, and her arms around my neck tighten. Holy shit, this is so fucking amazing.
“Hey!” a muffled voice shouts from outside the lav.
“Screw off,” I call back. “Restroom’s occupied.”
Pavarotti is reaching his high note, and I’m not far off from reaching mine.
When he sings ‘vincero, vincero,’ ‘I will win, I will win,’ I feel my body quiver and my muscles spasm. The ultimate release is getting closer.
I make sure that with each inward thrust, I don’t push too hard. I don’t want to fucking disturb the baby.
“Bite my neck,” I whisper to June. She obliges without question.
As she nibbles at my skin before increasing her bite, I feel myself tip over the edge.
I shoot my massive load into June.
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br /> ‘Viiiiinnnnnceeerrooooo,’ sings Pavarotti and I know exactly what he means.
I’ve won.
My life is back intact.
June’s own orgasm grabs a hold of her, and I feel the walls of her pussy grab my cock and milk it for any last remaining drop of cum.
When she’s done, she sags in my arms.
I feel fucking ecstatic. I wish this moment, in an airplane bathroom, could last forever. Just me, June, and the little person growing inside her belly.
Of course, it can’t. Moments don’t work that way—and June’s already fixing her skirt, leaning against the door for balance. As I start pulling my pants back up, still reveling in my own happiness, the noisy rattling at the door resumes.
Before I can shout my annoyance at whoever is intent on coming in, the door opens loudly and forcefully.
“Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but this is a lavatory.” I can tell from the authority in her voice that it’s a flight attendant.
June, still leaning on the door, starts tumbling as the door opens further.
I do my best to catch her.
My arms wrap around her protectively, and I increase my grip on her as she struggles to maintain her balance.
“Hey!”
We both start at the sound of the flight attendant yelling, and suddenly we’re both off balance.
The door swings open entirely, and all of a sudden, I’m on my back, with June on her back on top of me.
We’ve both fallen out into the aisle where there’s a crowd of irate passengers surrounding us.
Silently, June pushes herself up, standing gracefully. Still on the ground, I try to be discreet while pushing my cock back into my pants.
“Don’t y’all know what occupied means?” June lectures the crowd. “It says it right on the door, for crying out loud.”
“The airline’s sending you a bill for that door,” a voice near me bellows.
“Hey, Cap’n,” I respond. “I recognize that voice from the announcements. No problem, send it to me.”
A quick downward glance confirms my jewels are stashed away safely and soundly before I spin my legs around and awkwardly contort myself into position.
On one knee in front of June.
Like a knight kneeling before his princess.