Two days before our trip to Los Angeles, I tell my girlfriend Kiki she's not allowed to masturbate until we arrive in the city of angels. I've never given her an order like this, and I'm not sure how she'll react, but I'm pleased that even though she is usually a once-a-day masturbator, she not only follows my command but delightedly tells her friends about it. After her parents drop us off at the airport, I pull her into an extra-large stall in the airport bathroom and make her close her eyes before fastening a glistening new magenta collar around her neck. We exit and both admire it, our eyes drawn to this simple addition that in a moment seems to drastically change our relationship.

We board the Jetblue flight, not caring so much about the multiple cable stations as the chance to get it on while in the air. She has the aisle seat and I have the middle. I know she's scared of flying, but I intend to make sure she doesn't have time to worry about disaster befalling us. After we're seated, I start playing with the collar, my hand automatically reaching for the hook. It looks so good on her, so natural, and I can't help but look up at it and smile every few minutes. We've been inching towards playing like this -- me ordering her around, spanking her -- but the collar has raised the bar for our play together. Since she likes to be choked, I know that every time I tug on the collar and the band digs into her neck, she gets excited, and I use this knowledge to my strategic advantage.

I have a surprise planned for her and she is trying to guess, but clearly has no idea. We have piled huge stacks of books and magazines in front of us, all the ones I've been meaning to read but haven't had a chance to. The flight attendants keep stopping to examine our towering media piles, picking up Ellen DeGeneres's book and saying "oh, she's so funny!" before heading on their way. When the drinks cart arrives, I ask for a water and a tomato juice, and some ice. When they ask Kiki if she wants ice, I nudge her and she says yes. I'm delighted when our drinks arrive with not one but two cups of ice each -- perfect! She still doesn't know my plan, and is pestering me with questions, so I finally whisper her mission to her.

There is an "iced T-shirt" contest coming up at a local play party month. "I want you to enter it, and wear that shirt that clings to your tits, but first, I want you to practice your nipple icing skills, right here, right now." She gives me a big grin and says: "You're fun," agreeing immediately. As quickly as possible, I grab a piece of ice and slide it into her bra, hoping that no one around us has noticed. I do the same for the other nipple, and watch as a stain quickly spreads across her top. I don't linger and rub them into her nipples for fear of getting caught, but can tell by the way she squirms that the ice is having its intended effect. Every fifteen minutes or so I slide more ice into her shirt, and we try to cover our giggles. Even once it melts, her nipples are prominently visible through her shirt, the wetness giving her a look at odds with the rest of her put-together appearance.

Later, we spread most of the magazines across her lap strategically, so when I slide my hand under her skirt nobody will notice. The guy sitting by the window is preoccupied with his computer and the other passengers are watching their TV sets, so I have time to slide her panties aside and slip two fingers inside of her, while trying to move my arm as little as possible. The magazines teeter but stay in place, and I hope that I'm the only one who can hear the way her breathing has changed as she gets wetter. I bend my wrist as well as I can from my seat, not able to enter her as deeply as I'd like, but teasing her nonetheless, stroking the entrance to her cunt and playing with her clit. I stop after only a few minutes, knowing that this warmup will make her ready for much more later.

As we exit the plane, after gathering all of our stuff, one of the flight attendants gives us a knowing look and says, "Be good, girls," a twinge in her voice letting us know that she has a clue that we haven't been exactly "good" up to this point. We smile and exit. The plane ride is only the start of our public sex...but Kiki doesn't need to know that...yet.

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