by Ariel Graham
(10/21/09)

Christy moved gingerly through the crowded plane, trying not to smack anyone already seated with her carry on. She wanted to find her seat before any airline personnel noticed her short skirt and loose blouse with its scoop neck and told her she was indecent. She'd heard about another young blond who had been abused and chastised for dressing "provocatively" on a "family friendly flight" and she wanted no part of it.

This was, at least, a late evening flight. Maybe the lights would go down and no one would notice her clothes -- her short skirt and her serious lack of anything else other than a thong and some thigh-high stockings.

She found her seat, just forward of the wing, and settled in. Middle seat. Fine. Maybe one or both of her seatmates wouldn't show and she could move to the window and dream without interruption until they landed in Reno a little over two hours later. She could read, write up her expense report, go over her lists from the convention. Grrlz Toyz had sent her all expenses paid to a sex toy expo. A year ago Christy hadn't even known such things existed. Now she knew the variations on theme, the uses, the abuses, the tastes and smells of the machineries of joy. She'd resisted every offer of free samples and intimate demonstrations at the expo. She'd filled her head with product literature. She'd grown accustomed to blushing. Now she was tired and ready to go home and curl up in her sweats with the cat purring beside her on the bed.

She was also horny. It was hard not to be after two full days of nothing but talking about sex, even if a lot of it seemed mechanically engineered.

Mechanically engineered was fine. She was between relationships. But she was too shy to use any of the products hawked by the company she worked for. Which made the whole thing an exercise in frustration.

Her seatmates arrived together, a husband and wife, or at least a couple from the looks of it. Christy wondered why the ticket agent had seated them apart, and stood to let the woman take the window seat.

"Would you like to sit next to her?" she offered the male companion. She was hopeful. Rather an aisle seat than the middle.

No luck.

"I don't really fit in center seats," he said, and grinned apologetically.

Probably he didn't. He was tall and lanky and good looking, Christy thought, with dark hair and blue eyes and a lazy grin. She nodded and slid back into her seat, wondering why the woman had taken the window seat instead of sitting next to the guy she was with, but the woman had already made herself at home.

Here's hoping they don't talk all the way home, Christy thought, and went back to the paperback she was reading.

The plane took off with a jolt and a shiver, not a bad take off, but she sucked at flying and her fingers dug deep into the plastic arm rests.

"Are you all right?" Warm fingers covered hers, and Christy grabbed them before she remembered she didn't actually know this guy. He was just the cute stranger in the aisle seat.

She didn't let go, though.

"I don't fly very well," she said, ending on a squeak as the plane hit a pothole in the sky and bounced.

The woman next to her took her other hand and Christy thought, This must make me look like an idiot or an escapee from a 60s love-in, but she didn't care. It felt good to hold two hands tight in her own.

But her heart began to pound as she noticed a curious thing. The man on the aisle had loosened his hold on her hand. Now his hand moved over hers, encasing it, moving softly up and down in a stroking fashion. Before Christy could think of anything to say he started rubbing the inside of her wrist with the index finger of his free hand.

Okay, this wasn't normal. Holding hands with strangers was odd enough without adding this kind of thing. Oh, but it felt good. Christy realized the pulse pounding in her temples had begun to relax and shift, dropping down her body to center between her legs. She forced herself to cross her legs and glanced at the woman next to her. What would she think, even if she was holding Christy's other hand?

But the woman was staring out the window.

The lights went down in the plane so people could sleep. The captain, who sounded nearly asleep himself, suggested that passengers find reading lights if they didn't want to sleep. Half a dozen people instantly hit their call buttons by mistake. The flight attendants didn't bother to budge.

Christy's overhead light was already on, illuminating her lap. The woman next to her reached over and turned it off. Christy thought about protesting, but her mouth had suddenly gone dry.

Instead, she attempted to pull her hands back. "I'm fine now, really," she said. Her voice sounded loud in the quiet plane.

"Yes, you are," the man in the aisle seat said. He reached down and put one hand on her leg, over the short black skirt she wore, then brushed the skirt upwards and placed his hand on the flesh between the tops of her stockings and her torso.

Now what do I do?

Because that felt great also and the pulse between her legs was beating like mad and she was between relationships --

But this was a complete stranger.

"Uncross your legs," he said, looking at her.

Christy swallowed and didn't move. Beside her the woman moved slightly and squeezed Christy's hand hard. "He just wants to see how wet you are," she said. "Uncross your legs and slump a little in your seat."

"Look," Christy said, turning to the woman. "I don't know what --"

His hand slid between her legs and forced them apart. Christy gasped and jerked back toward him, ready to force him away, but both hands were still trapped. The man had twisted in his seat so he could use his free hand, the one farthest from her. He moved it from her thigh and Christy pressed her legs together hard. The man sighed and pinched her legs.

"Spread your legs and lean forward. Why are you fighting?"

Christy shook her head and looked around the plane at everyone she could see, but most of the passengers were asleep or working on something.

The man leaned in close and ran his hot, wet tongue the length of her throat, from just under her ear to the scoop of her blouse. The shudder started deep inside her and spread like heat, like some kind of mini, not-quite orgasm. Involuntarily Christy slid forward, her legs spreading outwards. She concentrated on breathing.

His hand went under her skirt instantly, ran up her thigh and encountered her thong. "Bad girl," he said and stroked over the top of her lacy panties.

Christy bit her tongue.

"Your clit is hard as a rock," he whispered. He dragged the nail over her clothed clit, over and over. "Monica, you should feel this."

Christy ran her tongue over her lips.

"In a minute," Monica said, and reached over Christy's middle and under her blouse. The bra was front clasp. Monica released it easily, brought her hand up and cupped Christy's breast, squeezing and stroking and running her hand over the nipple until she stopped and pinched hard, hard enough to make Christy gasp, and then she moved to the other breast and repeated, stroking, brushing the flat of her hand over the swell of Christy's breasts. Finally she dropped her hand. The man was still stroking Christy's clit, almost distracted, using his nail through the fabric. When Monica reached down they moved together, fingers traveling over the front of the thong and down to Christy's core. They moved together as if they'd rehearsed this, reaching down until they both slid fingers under her thong and over her clit.

"She's soaked," the woman said, and slid her fingers into Christy's cunt. His fingers joined hers a second later, the two of them moving inside her. Someone's finger turned until it stroked outward, pressing on her G spot the way that made her always want to take a pee at the same time it made her come like nothing else could.

The fingers withdrew. Fuck. She looked at both of them, as close to simultaneously as her neck would allow.

"Ask for a blanket," the man said.

"What?"

"Ask for a blanket."

Christy gave him a long look and reached up for her call button. A minute later a tall brunette smiled at her. "Yes, miss?" She reached over and turned off the call button.

"Could I have a blanket?"

"Of course. I'll be right back."

The blanket covered her better than the skirt, but it was thin and small. Christy laid it over her lap, her two companions studiously not paying attention to her as the flight attendant came and went. As soon as they were alone again, the woman said, "Take off the thong and just leave it on the blanket."

Christy swallowed. To do so would invite anyone to see it. Even crumpled in a small ball it might be evident what it was. But to not do so might mean the end of what was going on. She wriggled, hands going under the blanket and under her skirt. The thong only budged by millimeters over her hips. She wondered if her seat shook suggestively to the person sitting behind her, and when someone would look over from another row and wonder what she was doing. When she finally got the few inches of cotton over her hips and slid it down her legs, it was soaking wet, as if she'd dropped it in a sink full of water.

"I can smell you," the man said.

Christy swallowed again and dropped the balled up underwear into her lap.

"I should make you play with yourself until you come," he told her. "But I want to do it." His fingers slid over her inner thighs and brushed her clit, and then she no longer cared if anyone could see them.

"Spread your legs," he whispered. "Why do you keep bringing them together?"

On the other side of her, the woman whispered, "We saw you at the toy show. You refused every offer you received. We knew we had to --"

" -- try you out," the man said. "And let you try us out."

His hand, the one closest to her, still held hers. He bent round so he could slide his far hand between her legs. His thumb now found her hard, throbbing clit and he slid two fingers along her slick, soaked lips, separated them deftly and two fingers slid inside her. His thumb kept playing her clit. At the same time the woman leaned forward. She'd covered her fingers in something cold and slick and she danced briefly around the obstruction of her husband's hand before she moved lower.

"Spread," she said. "Open."

Her fingers pressed against Christy's ass. Christy jolted, eyes flying open, and she spun toward the woman. "I don't -- what are you -- I can't --"

"It won't hurt if you relax," the woman said at the same time her husband briefly pinched the inside of Christy's thigh. Christy's legs fell apart in surprise. She tensed, and relaxed. The woman's finger slid slickly into Christy's asshole.

They took up a rhythm then, their hands pumping into Christy, two fingers into her pussy, the woman's single slick finger past the rings of muscle into her ass.

Overhead, one of the X signs came on, prohibiting something, and a male voice of authority from the cockpit asked flight attendants to take their seats and everyone to buckle up. They were approaching a thunderstorm and it was going to be bumpy briefly. Passengers groaned and shifted and went back to sleep or continued reading.

Christy bucked her hips against the fingers, shoving them deeper inside her. She held both hands but she wanted to hold the arm rests on her seat, dig her fingers in, maybe shout. The plane hit another pothole and she seemed to impale herself on the man's fingers. He took the opportunity to spread them open inside her, filling her. The woman stroked the inside of her asshole, pulled her finger out, and Christy almost protested aloud. But an instant later the woman moved in again. This time she slid a small curved dildo into Christy's ass. The angle was wrong, but the toy was flexible and she gentled it in, turning it until Christy felt her ass relax and the dildo slid in and up, filling her.

The woman moved, changed something at the base of the toy, and it began vibrating instantly. She nodded at the man whose fingers now pressed deep into Christy and the two began fucking her simultaneously.

The plane disappeared as Christy's eyelids fluttered shut. Her lower belly felt tight and hot. The fingers and toy inside her pumped. Waves began to build inside her, warmth and tension cycled higher. Both of her companions leaned close.

"Don't you want his big dick inside your pussy?" the woman whispered, so close to Christy her breath was hot on her cheeks. "My fingers in your ass and him doing your pussy? Or maybe another toy. A bigger toy."

At the same time the man leaned in and said, "Don't you want her to suck your clit? She'd slide her hot tongue right up inside your snatch, lick all your pretty little parts, and I'd fuck your ass while she did."

Turbulence made the plane jump. Christy gasped as the rest of the passengers did as the plane shuddered and dropped before stabilizing. Christy came. Hot waves flooded her, concentric rings of pleasure spread over and over from clit and cunt and ass. She wanted to scream with it but she just rode the feeling, legs braced in their cramped spot. The fingers inside her pumped slower and slower until at last Christy sighed and shuddered and slumped, the tension leaving her, and the fingers stilled and slowly slid out. For a moment both of her seatmates rested their hands on her thighs under the blanket, then they pulled away, straightening themselves up, hair and clothes and expressions even as the overhead seatbelt sign flashed out again and the official male voice pronounced the worst past, the aisles clear for those silly enough to get up and move around the lack-of-space in the plane.

Then the next announcement urged them all down in their seats again as flight attendants began their final passes through the cabin. The brunette arrived at their aisle and whisked the blanket off Christy's lap almost before she had time to straighten her skirt. Her thong had wandered off somewhere.

When she'd pulled herself together as much as she was going to manage, the man turned toward her and said, "We'd like to do business with Grrlz Toyz." He handed her a business card.

"You've had our demonstration," his companion said from Christy's other side. "Now we'd very much like a demonstration of how Grrlz Toyz would handle our merchandise." She smiled at Christy and licked her lips and Christy, for just a breath, felt lightheaded.

The plane banked and began its descent into Reno with the usual turbulence the Sierra caused. Tray tables were up, garbage collected, everyone stowed in their seats. Christy risked releasing her carry-on item. "Here's my card," she said to first the woman and then the man. "Please do call me. I'd love to explore further how we can all work together."

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