Airport Intimacy

by Mike Oxpink

I am a middle class guy in my 50s.  I guess I look okay for my
age. I am about six feet tall, have a full head of dark hair, and
a full, gray beard, which I keep well trimmed. I should work out
more as I could use more muscles and better body tone, and I
could stand to drop 20 pounds or so; overall though, I guess I am
at least average. I keep thinking that the kind of experience I
will tell about here could not happen to me, but once in a while,
to my awe and amazement, it does.

I am happily married, but a few years ago, my wife had to start
taking a medication that reduces her interest in sex. She is
still willing to try to meet my needs, and we have good sex
several times a year, but for many years, I was more accustomed
to several times a week. I do not seek sex outside of my
marriage, but my circumstances make it pretty hard to turn it
down if it is offered to me in a safe, no strings, sort of way.
Although this does not happen very often, it has happened a few
times. This story is about my latest experience.

It was a hot July Sunday. I was returning home from a long,
professional conference. My wife had attended with me, and we
were seated on a crowded airplane that was about ready to depart.
There were three seats across on our side of the isle. My wife
was in the window seat, and I was in the middle one. I was not
sure that anyone was going to take the isle seat, but just before
they shut the doors, a young lady was admitted to the airplane
and sat down next to me in the isle seat. I am not good at
estimating the ages of young women. I can only say that she
appeared to be somewhere between about 15 and 30. I later found
out that she was somewhere in the college years. I can not say
that I originally thought of her as being beautiful, alluring,
sexy, or any of those other terms associated with young women. My
impression was that she was just a little chubby and did not have
a tremendous amount going for her in the breast size department.
She had honey blond hair, which was pinned up and tied back. It
was mostly on top of her head with a little bit hanging down in a
pony tale. She was nicely tanned, and she was wearing white
walking shorts, not overly short, and a matching, white tank top.
She had a bra on under the tank top. This was obvious by virtue
of what could not be seen, and also, by the fact that, every time
she moved, the bra straps kept peeking out from either side of
the tank top straps.

When she entered the airplane, she had a large back pack on her
back. She stuffed this into the overhead storage area, which my
wife and I had left empty because we had checked everything
except my laptop, which I had stashed under the seat in front of
me. The only other carry on she had with her was a very shiny
purse. Just to make conversation, I asked her if the shiny things
on her purse were mother of purl shells.  She smiled and said,
“Just artificial sequence bangles,” and then she did not say much
else.

As she sat down, however, her arm brushed my arm and side. I can
not really explain what happened then, or why it happened, but it
seemed as if an electric charge flowed from her to me. I usually
am not moved much by average looking girls who are half my age
and whom I meet casually, so I was surprised at the sudden jolt,
but just chalked it up to being tired from a long week of
conference meetings, work into the night, and short sleep
periods.

My wife was even more tired than I was. The last two nights of
the conference, she had girls’ nights out with some female
associates, and she fell asleep almost the instant we sat down on
the airplane.

I was a little sleepy too, but mostly just board, so I sat in a
half stupor, just occasionally glancing at the young lady who had
joined our row of seats. I would not have been interested at all
except for that initial electric charge I felt when our bodies
had inadvertently touched.  I was trying to understand what had
happened with that and why.

My mind was about to leave this pursuit when we both adjusted our
seats, and pulled down the trays on the seats in front of us
because the flight attendants were bringing refreshments. This
time, our hands and wrists touched, and again, there it was, that
inexplicable feeling of electric charge, of a quasi-sexual
tension which should not have been present between to complete
strangers.

The flight attendant served our drinks. My wife was sleeping and
did not have anything, but I had a cup of coffee, and the young
lady had a diet Coke. As we reached for our drinks, and the
pretzels we were provided, on the crowded airplane, our hands
occasionally touched several additional times. Each time, again
there was that spark. I was surprised we did not see little
flashes coming off of our hands. I did not understand it, but I
wondered if she was feeling it also.

Maybe I got a hint about that, although I did not take it as such
at the time.  As the flight drug on, I was revved up because of
the coffee, but the young lady became sleepy. While my wife was
sleeping sitting fairly straight in her seat, however, the young
lady turned her groggy, sleeping head and body toward me. She was
on her side facing me, and her head and breasts ended up sagging
against me. I lifted my arm and put it over and around her
shoulders with my hand caressing her back. This at least seemed a
comfortable position.

That pesky electricity was still there though! I felt a slight
twitching in my groin, but tried to ignore it as I kept telling
myself that the quasi-hug I was getting was an unconscious act on
the young lady’s part, and that she would be embarrassed if she
realized what she was doing.

Quite to the contrary, however, about ten minutes before landing,
she woke up, smiled a beautiful white smile, and said, “Thank
you. That was a nice way to spend the trip.” I smiled and said
that it had been pleasant for me too. My wife continued to
slumber on the other side of me. I had to wake her up after the
airplane had landed.

My wife and I had to change airplanes at the large, Midwestern
airport where we had landed, and we were not in any hurry to get
off of the aircraft because we had nearly a three hour layover.
The flight had been cheap by comparison with others available,
but the connections really were not very good.  We thus decided
to remain on the plane until most other passengers had gotten
off. The young lady next to me, on the other hand, being in an
isle seat, was one of the first off of the plane.  She grabbed
her back pack from the overhead storage and bolted off of the
aircraft with the impatience of her apparent tender years.

I remember thinking, “There she goes. Now I will never know why I
had those electric feelings of sexual tension as our bodies
inadvertently touched, and I will never know if she had the same
sensations.”

My wife and I eventually got off of the plane and went
immediately to the departure area for our next flight, which was
just a few gates down the concourse. My wife said that she was
going to stretch out and see if she could get a little more
sleep. I gave her my laptop to use as a pillow. I told her that I
needed to use the restroom, and that I would then wonder a bit
and look through some of the shops or have a drink. She told me
to go on, have a good time, and let her sleep.

I meandered down the concourse. By this time the young lady of
the previous flight was pretty well out of my mind. I was
thinking about what I wanted to do with my time. The airport was
pretty crowded as July is a heavy travel month, but there were
several fast food type bar and grill operations that I could
visit without having to clear security. I started looking for one
that was not too crowded, and decided that, first, I had better
use the restroom. I entered the next men’s restroom which came
along, but was quite surprised at the crowds in it. I just needed
to pee, but there were at least two guys lined up waiting for
each urinal. The stalls were all full as well. “To hell with
that,” I thought. I did not need to go all that badly, and I was
hoping for a less crowded, less public type restroom on down the
concourse. Maybe one of those bar and grill operations would have
its own facilities. As I was thinking this, I walked by a door
labeled “Companion Restroom,” and it had the little tactile
shadow figures of both the man and woman on the sign next to the
wheelchair symbol and the accompanying Braille label giving, I
assume, the same information in those little groups of mysterious
bumps.

One sees those companion restrooms in large facilities from time
to time now. They have been around ever sense just a few years
after the adoption of the Americans with Disabilities Act. I
guess they make them available so that disabled people who need
attendant assistance to use the restroom can use them, and so
parents can help their children. As they are not available in
most places, however, a lot of people do not think about using
them. As a fairly frequent traveler, I have learned that such
facilities are often available, quite private, and often quite
clean and pleasant. I tried the door, and it was unlocked. I went
through, and it was one of those two door entry systems, the
first door being the more substantial, and the second being more
akin to an oversized stall door. I entered the second door, and
found myself staring directly at the young lady who had been
sitting next to me on the plain. She was sitting on the tall
toilet with those white walking shorts, and some pale pink
panties adorning her ankles. I could see just the top portion of
a nicely trimmed pubic bush peeking above the lip of the commode.


“Oh, I’m sorry! Excuse me!: I almost screamed as I attempted to
back out of the oversized stall door. That door, however, was one
of those self latching ones. It had swung shut upon my entrance,
and without my turning around and flicking the latch, it would
not move. I started to make this turn, but I then heard what I
found to be a quite surprising sound, laughter.

“Well don’t just stand there; the roller is empty. Hand me that
roll of toilet paper on the shelf above the sink,” she giggled. I
had not noticed the empty roller or the shelf above the sink
containing the additional toilet paper. I guess that until I had
started to turn to fumble with the latch, my eyes had been
fixated on that ridge of pubic thatch. I stepped over her back
pack, which she had deposited in front of the sink, and handed
her the paper. I started to turn to fumble with the latch and
again attempt to make an exit, but she said, “You don’t have to
leave. I’m done now.” She stood up and pulled up those pale pink
panties, and then her walking shorts. The automatic flusher on
the toilet went, “whish,” she pushed past me to the sink, washed
her hands, picked up her back pack and left, brushing her hips
ever so slightly past me on her way out.

Again, that touch was incredible. Every time this woman touched
me, even ever so slightly and inadvertently, sparks were going
off all over my nerve endings, but particularly in the ones
surrounding my groin. I had to collapse for a bit, sitting on the
toilet ring and attempting to catch my breath. Also, my cock was
at least at half mast, and I had to wait for it to calm down to
be able to pee.

Finally, I was able to stand up, turn around, unzip, and drain
the snake. I had just finished, and that automatic flusher had
just gone “whish” again when I heard the outside door open.

“Just coming out,” I said. I did not hear anything said in
return, but I zipped up and turned around to see the inner,
oversized stall door open, and in shot the same young lady.

“Oh, didn’t know you were still in here. I got my back pack, but
left my purse.”

I followed her gaze to the space between the toilet and the sink,
and sure enough, there was the purse with the sequence bangles on
it.

“Oh thank you for protecting it for me, “ she said. The next
thing I knew, she was in my arms, giving me quite a tight and
sensual hug.

She was about five foot, five inches, just the right height to
look up longingly into my eyes. At least my desire tinged
perceptions interpreted the look I was getting in this manner,
and I guess that emboldened me. I still can not believe what I
did next, but I pressed my lips firmly against hers. she moved
her upturned face to meet mine, and almost immediately, her
tongue sought mine. Our tongues danced for what seemed like a
wonderful forever as I felt my cock harden back into pink steel.
She was pressed very tightly against me, and my arousal could
therefore not be a secret.

She broke the kiss finally and turned toward the door. I thought
this was going to be the end of our encounter as she walked
through that oversized inner stall door, but instead of leaving,
I heard her turn a dead bolt on the outside door which I had not
previously noticed. I opened the inner door a crack to make sure
I had heard correctly as she came back into the room.

“If either one of us had noticed that bolt lock, we might not be
here together now,”  she observed.

I still was unsure of myself. This just did not happen to me. “Do
you have any regrets about that?” I asked.

“Absolutely none,” she said, as she returned to my arms. We
kissed passionately again, our tongues returning to their rumba.
I removed my arms from completely around her, and began to fondle
her breasts through her tank top and bra.

“I am overdressed for that,” she said as she stepped back and
pulled the tank top over her head. It joined her purse on the
floor between the sink and toilet.

I may have been a few years out of practice at the art of
disrobing young, hot females, but some skills are like riding a
bicycle. One may lose a bit of grace, but the skill is never
lost. The white, lace cup, cross your heart bra she was wearing
had the standard clasp in the back. I reached around and unhooked
all hooks with one deft twist of my fingers and thumb. She
stretched and wriggled a little, and the bra fell to the floor
exposing breasts which were not any larger than I had guessed
they would be, but with cute, long, deep pink nipples atop white
mounds which clearly exposed the tan lines. My mouth went
immediately to the left tit, and I took it gently first between
my lips, and then my teeth. As I held it gently in my teeth, I
ran my tongue up and down first one side of the nipple, and then
the other. Yes, they were long in comparison with the size of her
breasts, and it was a wonderful trip back and forth to their
base. She moaned, at first softly, and then with more volume, but
then pulled away.

“You’re overdressed for this party,” she said, as she began to
pull at the knot at the top of my tie. She was not good with neck
ties, so I had to untie it for her.  While I was doing so, she
began to unbutton my shirt.

I finally allowed myself to believe that this was really
happening to me, and to realize where this was going. This
brought a question to my mind. We were locked in an oversized
restroom! There was a tall, wide sink, a high boy toilet, a whole
bunch of grab bars, and not much else. I wondered what strange
configuration of positioning we might use for what was to come.
Nothing looked very comfortable.

About the time I completed this thought, however, she quickly
stepped away from me again, and threw off her walking shorts and
panties. I would describe my first look at her full nakedness,
but I really did not get much of a look. She turned her back
toward me, and knelt before her back pack. “You get the rest of
those clothes off,” she said, “while I make a few arrangements
here.”

The first thing that came out of the back pack was a large wad of
blue and red vinyl. The second thing was an off white, Sunbeam
hair dryer. She plugged the hair dryer in deftly above the sink.
The vinyl turned out to be one of those inflatable single
mattresses. She fitted the dryer into the adapter on the
mattress, turned the dryer on high, braced the dryer against the
wall, and then turned back to me as the mattress filled.

I was so shocked, I was still standing there with my shirt mostly
unbuttoned and my pants completely in place. “Are you going to
get those off, or do I have to do everything for you?”

I got naked mostly by myself, but she was rather impatient, and
she helped a little, especially when it came to removing my black
jockey shorts. My cock was already poking out of the top, but she
knelt, kissed its head, and worked my shorts down, allowing my
cock and balls to bounce free.

By this time, the mattress had taken shape and was adequately
filled. Companion restrooms are required to be at least seven
feet by eight feet, and I think this one was a little larger than
that. The inflated mattress, about six by three, fit nicely in
front of the toilet and sink, with just a slight amount of room
to spare. It was red vinyl on the bottom, with a blue velveteen
pillow top. She laid back on it, and I finally got to enjoy
looking at her in all of her naked glory, and yes, it was
glorious!

In the plain, white wrapper, she had looked a little flat chested
and chubby. Pinned up, her hair, had been nothing spectacular.

Now, however, I was looking at her perky, small breasts as
paragons of symmetry, with those delightful, long, and now
completely hard and straight, deep nipples at the top of these
monuments. Her ash blond bush was trimmed to a perfect triangle,
and I could just see her pink pussy lips ensconced at the center
of the triangle. They were already glistening with her arousal.
She put her head back on the mattress, but the clasps in her hair
made this uncomfortable, so she reached up and removed the
offending hair hardware. Her beautiful, honey blond tresses
spilled out in a fan around her face.

“You’re beautiful!” I gasped as I knelt by the mattress to plant
another of those deep electric kisses on her full, lips, lips the
same beautiful pink, I might add as her nipples.

She squirmed rubbing her breasts and mound against my chest and
stomach vigorously. I started to stand; I was going to walk
around to the end of the mattress, plunge my face into that
beautiful blond mound, and start probing with my tongue for her
clitoris. I did not accomplish this, however, at this point. As I
stood, she rose up first on her elbows, and then to a sitting
position, and I felt her lips go around my cock. I thrust in and
out of her mouth a few times, but I was building building
building faster than I wanted to.

“I want to come inside of you, but not in your mouth,” I
whispered.

She let my cock go. “Then that’s what you should do,” she said.
“It’s okay, I want that and I have protection.”

She again reclined on the mattress. This time, I wasted no time.
I plunged my face into her silky, wet mound. I found her slit
with my tongue and moved it up and down first one pussy lip, and
then the other. Finally, I plunged my tongue deep into her inner
sanctum. Her taste was delightful, fine quality caviar laced with
white wine. Her scream was audible, but not nearly so much so as
the scream of joy she emitted when I slid my tongue up to the top
of her hole and started feather licking the bottom of her
pronounced, teardrop shaped clitoris. I then went around and
around it with my tongue intermittently plunging into her hole,
and then returning to my wet dance around and over her clitoris.
Her screams of pleasure intensified, and for a minute I was
afraid that airport security would hear us and break down the
doors, but the distant hum of airport noise outside of the bolted
door continued undisturbed. Her orgasm finally crested, and her
body tensed a couple of times very hard, and then relaxed.

The oral action had given my building cock a little break, but
now I felt I could wait no longer. I moved over her, pressed my
lips against hers, sharing the caviar taste of her  sweet pussy
with her while my seven and a half inch cock plunged into her
sweet, wet hole. I could feel her tight pussy embracing it and
then letting go. I came fairly quickly deep inside her, pumping
nine distinct blasts of my hot love juice inside her. She joined
me with her own, second, and even more intense shuddering orgasm
at about the point of my third blast.

We were silent and still for several minutes after our mutual
waive crest. My cock softened, and it was wonderful to feel it do
so inside of her. It did not stay soft for long though. She begin
to stir, and to kiss me, this time still deeply, but slowly and
sweetly, Our lips and tongues moved purposefully, but leisurely,
savoring each other’s tastes. Before I realized what was
happening, I was hard again, moving slowly and gently in and out
of her, feeling every grasp and release of her wonderful pussy.
This time, we were completely quiet, making an effort not to
speed up as our passion intensified. Our mutual orgasms were just
as deep as the last ones, but long, slow , grasping, with the
release from orgasmic bliss coming gradually.

“Got to get up for a minute,” she whispered. I rolled to her
side, and she lithely slipped from the bed to the toilet where
she peed. I turned over on my back, and watched her intensely
satisfied expression, almost like another orgasm, as her golden
trickle cascaded into the toilet. She finished, grabbed some of
the toilet paper she had conveniently put on the roller after I
had handed it to her what seemed like days ago, and then bolted
from the toilet to land on top of me, again, kissing me deeply
while her legs straddled my hips, and I felt her hot, wet sex
creaming at the base of my balls.

I did not expect to be ready for a third round, but in minutes,
my cock was rising to meet her hot, velvet love tunnel. She
lifted herself above me, and I felt her hot sex surround my
manhood. She impaled herself on me, pushing me deeply into her.
She then rocked back and forth until I began to pull back in
order to thrust in and out of her from beneath her. I watched her
ride in awe. Her breasts were not full enough to bounce, but that
gorgeous honey blond hair bounced all around her face and
shoulders almost reaching her breasts. As she bounced and
celebrated my manhood inside of her, her slowly vibrating form
was a flowing vision that will always be burned into my thoughts.


She orgasmed first this time, rocking back and forth wildly,
tightening her pussy even more around my cock. My manhood
experienced its own life, its own consciousness. It knew it was
comfortably trapped in the best place it could possibly be, and
that it quite clearly was not going anywhere else for a while.
Finally she relaxed and collapsed on top of me. This triggered my
release, and I shot again inside of her, eight or ten more long
blasts as she lay atop me, her hair draped over my shoulders and
chest. We melted into the post-coital bliss of two who had been
thoroughly sated, the ultimate satisfaction. I do not know what
caused me to look at my watch a while later then. Maybe it was
the heat of the room, but something caused me to recover my
conscious mind sufficiently to notice that two and a half hours
had gone by, and to realize that I had less than half an hour to
catch my next plane.

“I have a plane to catch, sweetie,” I said.

“I thought you would,” she said. “That’s fine.”

“How about you? Where are you trying to get to?”

“I’m taking ground transportation from here. The shuttles run
every few hours.”

She was still draped across me. “This kind of thing never happens
to me,” I said with awe.

“Yes, she said, I owe you an explanation. I’ve had the same
boyfriend sense I started college. We dated for over a year
before I would let him have sex with me. Sense that time, it has
been great, really nice, but we had a problem a few weeks ago. He
admitted to me that he had made it with another girl. I was
devastated. All I could do was to cry over and over again, why?
What’s wrong with me? Why would you do that to me? Why would you
do such a terrible thing against me? He kept saying that it had
nothing to do with us. He just met this person, and that there
was a shockwave, or some kind of a force, that had to be
satisfied. I just didn’t understand. “That didn’t make any sense
to me. I told him that I needed to spend the rest of the summer
apart, and that I did not know if we would ever get together
again. He was really hurt. He cried and cried, and I didn’t
understand. After all, he was the one who had stepped out on me.
How could he do that and love me. It just didn’t make any sense
at all. So I’ve traveled half way across the country seeing old
high school girlfriends, and I have just kept asking them how
what he said could actually happen to someone. How could he love
me so much as he says he does and still do that with another
girl? Some of my girlfriends just told me to dump the bastard,
but there were a couple of others who told me that the kind of
electric shock he said he had with this other girl really can
happen. They said it doesn’t mean he loves me less or that we
have a problem, and that it does not happen very often. I still
didn’t believe it and I was still hurting inside  and did not
think I could go back to him. Then, on my way back home, I
accidentally touched you on the airplane. I still don’t
understand how it happens, but I accept the fact that it does.
That touch shot lightning all through me. It is still going
through me, even just laying here on top of you in the afterglow.
I still do not understand how or why it happens, but now I know
that it does. I’m very sure I am going back to my boyfriend. I
know I still love him, and that he still loves me, just as I know
you still love that lady, who is obviously your wife, who was
sitting on the other side of us on the plane. “

“So how did you set up our meeting in here?”

I didn’t. The electric current was there, but I hadn’t figured
out what that meant until you came storming back into my life
after I thought I had walked off and left you and your
electricity on the plane. I didn’t plan this. I wasn’t just
carrying around an air mattress looking for some unlikely guy
with strange electrical wiring. I had it because some of my
girlfriends did not have an extra bed. Some parts of learning and
growing just happen by chance, or, come to think of it, maybe its
just the opposite of chance. Maybe they happen because it is
supposed to be that way.”

We were quiet as we cleaned up a bit, dawned our clothes again,
and packed the now delightfully pungent air mattress in her back
pack. We went separate directions as we left the companion
restroom.

I returned to my wife who said, “I wondered where you had gotten
off to. They’re boarding the plane. We need to get on!”

“Oh, some girl half my age pulled me into a public restroom and
made mad, passionate love to me for two and a half hours,” I said
matter-of-factly.

“Tell me another one,” she laughed. “I’ll bet you were looking at
girly magazines.”

“No, I just really got caught into the middle of a wonderful
romance story, and I couldn’t leave it. It had to get to a
certain point.”

“Well if it was that good, why didn’t you get it and bring it
home with you?”

“Some things aren’t meant to be finished at home. They are what
they are, and then they’re gone.”

“Right,” she laughed. “Leave the philosophical pursuits here in
the airport, and get on the plane, Mr. Plato.”

We flew off to our special place, but for a little more than two
and a half hours, my life and the life of another sweet and
loving human being intertwined. From what she said, the encounter
changed her life for the better, and as I think back on the
experience, mine was enriched as well. I will never know her
name, nor she mine, but we left something sweet and wholesome
with each other.

.