Mile High Club

I need to be honest, the reason I haven’t been writing is partly due to the fact I didn’t want to admit some things to myself. The new boy, the one who looked so promising is not exactly the best person in the world. He is very perceptive and knows the things about myself that I might not be 100% comfortable with and uses them against me. I know my flaws, I don’t need to be reminded of them constantly. That is not healthy, and makes me feel really awful. I am limiting what little contact I have with him and trying to expand my options. I think I just need to not think about men, a hiatus if you will. Like primetime network programming (but its soooo hard!!!)

So with no men to regularly keep me warm at night, I have done what I do best. Retreat into fantasy.

On the way back from WMC I sat across from the most delicious man. I’m from the tri-state area (NY, NJ, CT), I’m not going to give you more details, but coming from a suburb outside of Manhattan I am very familiar with a certain type of man. They are incredibly vulnerable, yet like to appear hard. So, on my flight, hopped up on xanax and a glass of red wine, I stared at this guy for the entire flight. Thank god he slept most of the time or he would have thought I was a pervert (ok, I am a little).
He’s probably in his 20s, I’d say of Italian descent (not real Italian, NY/NJ/CT Italian, a different breed all together), shaved head, roman profile with deep brown eyes and long almost feminine lashes. He actually looks like an ex boyfriend, but better, bigger, sweeter. He’s wearing a white t-shirt, bright shockingly white Nikes, and jeans, just a hint of a tribal band tattoo peeking out of his sleeve. Large flashy watch dangling on his left wrist with thick fingers that look like they either work for a living or are calloused from the gym, probably a little of both. I would say not taller than 5’10”. His mouth is slightly open as he tries to sleep in the small airplane seat. I open my mouth unconsciously, then realize I just did that and blush. His lips are full with a slight upturn on the left side. I am a sucker for that Italian asshole snarl and he has it in spades. I want that smile, with the left side turned up, that cocky demeanor over me. I want that mouth smirking at me while I’m being fucked hard and good. There is something to be said for a cocky attitude and shit-eating grin that gets me all the time.
I fantasize about running my hands over his arms tracing his tattoo, looking for more, maybe something on his back, calf, I want to look everywhere. Running my hands and nails over his buzzed head tracing down the back of his nape, making him shiver. They appear tough, but nothing gets this type like a little seduction. I would scratch a little and run my thumb over his lower lip and watch him smile under my finger, straddling him while I felt the softness of those full lips. I would slowly make circles with my hips, nothing too noticeable, balancing my weight, only lightly touching him. I would Grab the back of his neck and bring that cocky mouth close to mine, forcing it into silence as I kiss him gently then taking liberties, and use more force pull him closer with my hand behind his neck all the while grinding harder and lower into his crotch, feeling his cock through his jeans. I would move back and take him in, running my hands up and down his body, feeling that soft tanned olive skin. I would smile, giving him a snarl of my own. I lift his white t-shirt over his head deeply inhaling his cologne and natural male smell. It would be Aqua or Angel for men or one of those other fragrances that guys like that always like to wear, something slightly musky and overbearing. Just like his watch, overly flashy. I squirm in my seat as I stare at him as he scratches his head from front to back.
I would lift myself off his crotch gently playing with the waistband of his jeans. He tries to help, eagerly moving his hands closer fumbling with his buttons. I give him a look and move his hands away, placing one on my lower back, the other at his side. I run my hands over his chest, pushing slightly not saying anything but letting him know, this is my show. His hands go where I want them. He growls deep in his throat and moves close to my neck, biting me hard. I moan and try not to fall back onto his crotch. I wrap my hand around his neck keeping him firmly in place as I open his fly with the other hand, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs. He starts whispering dirty things into my ear, moving his free hand down my collarbone. I wrap my small hand around his fat cock. It’s not large but its thick. I get chills as I feel my shirt move down and feel each finger as it grazes my chest. He unzips my shirt exposing my bra. He looks in my eyes as he teases the skin right above the cup of my left breast. I squeeze his cock and reach lower massaging his balls. The anticipation is killing me, for all my big talk and attitude, I want this to end soon, I need to come. I move trying to get his hand to touch my nipple; I want those rough fingers to touch all the sensitive places on my body. He looks at my breast and then up at me through those long brown eyelashes, maintaining eye contact he runs his hand from my collarbone to my breast, cupping it then using his thumb to circle my nipple then pinch it gently. My eyes roll back in my head and he steadies me with the hand that still sits on my lower back and he laughs a little to himself.
Shit, he wakes up…. does he know I am picturing us almost fucking? Am I blushing? He adjusts himself, stretches I realize I am holding my breath like he can read my thoughts. He places one hand on his inner thigh and I know my mouth is open now, possibly drooling as the stewardess collects my empty tomato juice. He’s wearing a chain, I wonder if it holds dog tags or a cross. I want to find out, reach into that soft white shirt and pull them out and wrap the chain tightly around his neck and nibble from ear to collar bone. I want to feel those arms wrap around me as he pulls me close, removes my bra. (While I was staring at the real man, the fantasy M Leah removed her pants and panties). I lower myself feeling him slowly enter me and wonder if anyone else on the plane thinks it’s getting hot in here. He leans me back then lowers his head to my nipple and sucks on it using his teeth to bite every now and again. His cock is pushing out of his jeans and his black boxer briefs and as I lower myself I can feel both fabrics, the scratchy denim and the soft cotton on my thighs. I use my thighs to steady the pace, feeling every inch of him. I wonder if the guy sitting next to me knows what’s going on in my head right now, that I am having dirty wild monkey sex.

It kind of reminded me of this: