Archive-name: Places/airscrew.txt
Archive-author: Pete Fox
Archive-title: Airscrew or How I joined the Six Mile High Club


As a frequent jetsetter, I have for long fantasised about this exclusive club,
which in reality probably has few authentic members who have genuinely screwed
their way through the stratosphere.  How can you manage to have-it-away on
board a crowded airliner?  Well recently I succeeded - and how!  This amazing
experience happened on the top deck of a BA 747 heading out of New York for
Heathrow, with a beautiful girl I had never met before.

I had had a hectic day getting my work completed before flying out, got to the
airport late, and consequently was glad to have got through the airport hassle
and slump into my Club Class seat. The top deck of the 747 has a small cabin
which some airlines use for first class passengers, but many including BA, use
for Business Class; there are only 20 or 30 seats, which gives you the feeling
of being in a small, but spacious airliner.  The top deck is reached via a
spiral staircase and you travel cut off from the masses on the main deck below.
 This flight, luckily, was fairly empty so I was fortunate that through the
lottery of seat allocations, Karen, as she turned out to be named, took up the
aisle seat corresponding to my window seat and nobody else got seated either
between us or in the row on the other side of the aisle.

Karen was petite and blonde, about 25 I guessed, (rightly as it turned out),
and clearly well formed in all the important places.  She had remarkably light
blue eyes and was obviously in some form of business, as she had a small patent
leather brief case and when she took her coat off she was smartly dressed in a
grey skirt and white blouse - which showed her firm, well-shaped figure to good
effect.  I found out later that she was Swedish, a junior salesperson for an
internationally known cosmetics company, who at short notice had been given a
lucky break to substitute for her boss on a business trip to the USA. Her smart
but plain business-woman's dress looked sexy on her. Her firm breasts thrust
out firmly through her white silk blouse as she arched her back to remove her
coat and hand it to the stewardess.  Black lacy stockings showed her well
shaped legs to advantage.  But she also radiated something sensual which
aroused the first slight stirrings in my crotch. I realised I was feeling quite
horney and in the mood for conquest, but not in my wildest dreams did I guess
what delights were to follow!

Karen looked nervous and fidgeted when she sat down; she very readily started
chatting.  I needn't bore you with the contents of our chat, except that I soon
persuaded her to move next to me from her aisle seat, so we could talk easier.
She was obviously a bit scared of flying.  It transpired this was only her
second long distance flight.  Soon after take-off we hit some unusually bumpy
weather; the seat belt signs came on and Karen wrung her hands and looked
scared.  Naturally I put my arm around her shoulders to comfort her and she
leant her soft, perfumed blond hair against my shoulder and visibly relaxed.
The 747 flew out of the turbulence but I was glad to find she showed no sign of
wanting me to take my arm away.  The meal on a tray came and went and I felt
really strong stirrings in my pants when she snuggled back against me, until
recently a complete stranger.  The stewardess brought the drinks trolley and I
persuaded Karen to have a double gin with a bit of tonic which visibly relaxed
her some more.

I slipped my hand down slightly from her hair to stroke her neck and her ear
lobes.  She snuggled closer and reminded me of a purring cat.  British Airways,
ever cooperative, chose that moment to dim the lights and to start the in
flight movie.  I started taking a few liberties with where I moved my hands,
aided by the semi-darkness, but half expecting to be rebuffed as, after all, I
was fondling a girl who until a few minutes earlier had been a total stranger -
this was too good to be true! But I could not help noticing signs that my
efforts were stirring up her hormones; her face looked flushed, her eyes were
soft and her pupils large.  My left hand closed over her left breast.  She made
no effort to discourage me, so I gradually eased my hand into a position where
I could massage the slight mound of her nipple straining through the material
of her blouse and bra.  By now, I felt rampant; my trousers bulged as if they
would burst and I began to wonder if we could satisfy our wildly growing
passions.

She snuggled closer and started stroking my leg in an absent minded kind of
way, fairly innocently near my knee.  The arm of the seat was getting in our
way, luckily they hinge back, so I lifted it and took the opportunity to slide
my arm right around her left hip so as to push my hand under her thigh.  The
hem of her skirt had ridden up enough for me to stroke her silk clad thighs.  I
was pleased to find she was wearing stockings and not tights as I reached warm,
smooth,  bare skin slid my fingers under the silky ribbon of her suspender
strap.  She made no effort to discourage my wandering fingers, so, pulling her
closer I covered our laps with a BA blanket, and boldly stroked her thigh with
my other hand, working her skirt hem back as I went.  She sighed and parted her
legs slightly when my hand moved along the last smooth inches of warm scented
upper leg and my fingers at last brushed gently against the thin silky material
of her knickers, tightly stretched over her sexual mound.

My cock throbbed with excitement and anticipation and I had to slow down and
mentally count to ten to avoid filling my pants with cum when I realised she
was not only going to let me reach my target, but was panting for me as much as
I was for her.  I inserted my fingers as far as I could between her legs, and
stroked them gently along the warm and noticeably damp material covering her
cleft and up to the summit of her pubic mound.  She sighed and gripped me tight
as my finger a deliberately sought and found her tiny clitoris.  I felt her
hand cup the bulge in my trousers.  We kissed long and passionately; it was
strange I thought to have got to such a level of intimacy without having kissed
before.  I exercised as much self-control as I could muster as I felt the
exquisite feeling of her hand gently exploring my throbbing cock.  In return,
my fingers pulled aside the warm silky gusset of her knickers; and I was able
to stroke warm downy hair and feel the soft, warm, wet and incredibly inviting
slippery crevice.  I pushed two fingers into her soft hole, and gently massaged
it; I then rolled the flesh of her engorged entrance lips gently and firmly
between my finger and thumb.  She clung to me more tightly, eyes closed, and
her hips shuddered; she sighed again and we kissed passionately.

But it is one thing to snog, even as naughtily as this, in an airplane full of
people but quite another to remove the garments necessary to couple us in the
way we were were both obviously craving for and to release our wild passion in
the sexual frenzy we both felt.  How could we satisfy our enormous lusts?  What
with cabin crew wondering backwards and forwards behind us to and from the
galley, we could not easily strip off and start humping without the risk of
creating a sensation on board.  I had visions of us being arrested for grossly
indecent behaviour in a Jumbo Jet!  Could I somehow get my cock out and force
it past the tight gusset of her tight panties?  But what position could we use?
Nothing else in the world now mattered except an overpowering urge to stuff my
straining rod into the depths of her warm, slippery slit.  But trivial problems
like knicker elastic, trouser zips, stretched Y fronts and unyielding aircraft
seats made this ambition hard to realise.

Karen, as always, was way ahead of me.  She gave my cock a gentle squeeze which
nearly fired it of,  and got up without a word and  strolled seemingly casually
towards the loo at the front of the cabin.  I contemplated following her into
it, having heard stories of people having it away in railway carriage loos.
But this always seemed to me to demand contortionist skills, apart from being
not exactly comfortable or aesthetic!  Also, there was no doubt that the
passengers watching the movie would have noticed me following a lady into the
lav, which on the top deck of a 747 is alongside the screen for the inflight
movie, which was then in full flow.  The thought of banging away in that
confined space and of re-emerging afterwards was too daunting, even in my
highly charged state!

Karen re-emerged a few moments later, quicker than usual when women use a loo,
looking inscrutable.  She grabbed a couple of BA blankets, snuggled back
against me and it was a matter of moments to cover ourselves with the blanket.
In the semi-darkness and in the back row, we felt safe from prying eyes.  My
hand went back to where it had been, to find just warm flesh and no knickers. I
reinserted my fingers into her warm and inviting slit.  Her hand was undoing my
zip, under the cover of the blanket; I undid my belt to help her.  In a flash
(so to speak) my trousers and pants were round my ankles and she was holding my
throbbing prick like the gear level of a sports car - it nearly made me change
gear - into overdrive!

I soon discovered she had also removed her bra; her nipples strained against
the thin material of her blouse.  I undid her blouse to expose her breasts
under the blanket.  I was then able to lay across her and greedily suck the
entire aureola of her left breast into my mouth, with my head under the blanket
in delicately scented warm darkness.  I tickled the nipple with the end of my
tongue, an action I have found to be appreciated by my lady friends, and Karen
was no exception!  She cradled my head with one hand like a baby held to her
breast and gently stroked away at my straining cock from its tip along its
underside to my balls. She was clearly an accomplished lover.  I moved my head
to her lap and attempted to lick her clitoris, but this was almost impossible
in an aircraft seat, even though she parted her legs as widely as the limited
space would let her.  I remember the overwhelming scent of excited woman mixed
with the fragrance of her perfume, but could only nuzzle her fur and kiss the
smooth inside skin of her thighs.

Karen unzipped her skirt and wriggled out of it, still under the blankets.
"Please.." she moaned - "please.." - I felt the same way.  She turned to face
away from me, and firmly pressed her shapely bum against my left thigh.  Making
sure the blanket was covering us well,  I twisted around until my throbbing
tool was pressed up against the valley between her thighs; it was a similar
position as if she was sitting on my lap.  I could probe her sex with mine.
She arched her back and raised her right thigh and firmly holding the end of my
pulsing penis, she guided it into the mouth of her soft hole.  I pushed hard so
my cock slid smoothly into her firm warm tunnel.  I cupped both her breasts
with my hands and pulled her hard against me to penetrate as deep as possible.

She  sighed and shuddered and her hips moved gently and rhythmically.  The need
to copulate quietly to avoid attracting attention was not forgotten, despite
our extreme passion.  This need forced us to perform using hard pressure and
firm small movements;  she thrust hard against my equal and opposite series of
nudges.  My instincts desperately wanted me to pump every last drop of my spunk
into her as quickly and violently as possible, but my intellect made me want to
prolong this ecstasy.  The discipline of doing it slowly and quietly, so as not
to attract attention, made it easier to prolong the excruciating pleasure
without climaxing.  Curiously I have always found that the longer and steamier
the foreplay the better I can hold on until the crucial moment of a mutual
climax.  I was able to relax and savour the exquisite pleasure of being coupled
with my beautiful fellow traveller.

I forced my left hand between her waist and the seat until my left forefinger
could just reach past her bush to the hot spot at the top of her slit which I
correctly guessed would fire her climax.  We were now locked together and so
overcome with desperate excitement that at that moment neither of us would have
cared if all the passengers and crew were watching, although we kept straining
against each other and moving slowly with great force to avoid attracting
unwelcome attention.  I could feel her muscles pulling and rippling at my
straining hunk of meat that I cruelly rammed into her with as much force as I
could manage.  She had superb muscular coordination and was able to achieve
what few women I have coupled with can do, to give a feeling of sucking me into
her with muscular ripples of her vaginal walls.

I could hold back no longer and erupted into frenzied, deep, deep wild spasms
pumping and pumping what seemed like gallons of my juice as deep into her as I
could.  As I felt my ejaculation erupting I ruffled her clitoris.  She
shuddered and bucked and her internal muscles rippled along me forcing out the
last small jerks of spunk.  We subsided against each other quite breathless and
trying not to pant loud enough to attract attention.  Our fuck had only taken
ten minutes; I glanced nervously over my shoulder and saw a stewardess's head
rapidly disappear behind the galley curtain.  Had she realised what we were up
to?  No way of telling, but judging from the slightly awe-struck look she gave
us later, I suspected she had guessed!  I wondered how often the back seat of
this cabin was consummated by new members of the "Six Mile High" club and
whether aircrew ever join this club for fun (considering they have many more
opportunities than even us frequent business travellers).  So thinking, I dozed
off still clutching Karen tight in my arms, my deflating cock lying stickily
against her leg.

We woke up knickerless and trouseless still under our blanket.  The movie had
finished, the aircraft was in darkness, we only took a few minutes to arouse
each other to another insatiable frenzy and I soon had pumped yet another
generous load of cum into her willing and inviting slit.  Not being satisfied
with basic membership of the "Six Mile high Club" we had even found time for a
second helping.

The cosy space under our blanket reeked of our sexual juices:  we blotted
ourselves with tissues from Karen's bag.  She wriggled back into her skirt, I
wriggled back into my clothes, while she went to the loo to tidy herself up.
She re-emerged looking immaculate (and stunning).  Breakfast was served, and
there was little to say after this amazing night of passion.  Soon the aircraft
landed, and we went our separate ways - she had a connecting flight to catch to
Sweden.  A peck on the cheek and a coy smile as we parted; "till next time!" I
went through immigration and customs in a post-coital daze.  Sadly our paths
have not yet crossed again, and if they do, I wonder whether we would ever
achieve such ecstatic feelings as those of two strangers coming together in
such total uninhibited and lustful intimacy in such an impossible place?

Any other sexy ladies who would like to join the "Six Mile High Club" are
welcome to fly with me - any time!  It certainly makes the flight pass quickly
(Caledonian Girls apply here!).

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