Sexual Airlines

My name is Alina, I'm 24 years old and I work as a flight attendant, but I think 'stewardess' sounds much more glamorous. I'm of average height, not a hobbit, but I'm also far from being a runway model. However, my figure is just right, it's no wonder I spend time and money at the gym. Just imagine, long slender legs in heels and stockings, a round, firm, nut-shaped butt, a flat tummy, and third-size boobs (thanks to my ex, or rather his money and the plastic surgeon). And completing the picture is the pretty face of a fiery brunette with bright blue eyes and plump lips (those are all mine). Oh yes... and a small, neat, slightly upturned nose.

Anyway, wipe the drool off your face, you pervert.

You might ask, why is such a doll working somewhere instead of being on some sugar daddy's arm? Well, I don't know myself, maybe I like to travel, and the job facilitates that. By the way, I work for a very well-known and large airline, or rather its subsidiary. Yes, that's important, a subsidiary of a major airline that specializes mainly in night and long-haul flights. Whose bright idea in top management that was and why we haven't been shut down yet is a mystery. But the flights, despite regular underbooking, operate steadily. And this story happened on one of those flights. On a night flight with a half-empty plane.

Speaking of the uniform, after all, I am a stewardess, you've probably already pictured a miniskirt, a short jacket... but in reality, it's less flashy. Fortunately, on night flights, they're a bit more lenient about the uniform, and I could always show off my figure. Stiletto heels, yes, that's not regulation, a pencil skirt that flatteringly emphasizes my butt, from under which slender, tanned legs peek out, covered by a thin layer of nylon. A white semi-transparent blouse, a couple of top buttons of which I always forget to fasten. A fitted jacket, a small neck scarf, and a small hat.

Did I not say a word about underwear? Yes, because sometimes I like not to wear any—it slightly excites me. I adore catching and feeling the gazes of men greedily studying my curves while I conduct the safety briefing. If only they knew I wasn't wearing any underwear. I imagine their faces during the briefing, and it seems an expression of something like that crosses my face... Anyway, men listen to and watch my briefing with full attention.

I've dragged on with the introductions for a short story, haven't I? But don't worry, fasten your seatbelts, return your seatbacks to the upright position, and stow the tray tables in front of you—we're beginning.

It was another night flight, with only two flight attendants on board, me and my partner Lena. She's in the front of the plane, and I'm in the rear. Takeoff went as usual, we served refreshments. The lights went out, and for the next couple of hours, we could rest and get our affairs in order. Lena, as always, amazed me with her ability to fall asleep instantly, and her half was already dark. The few passengers who were awake were watching movies on the screens built into the seatbacks. Most were sleeping.

I finished preparing the trolley for the meal service and was about to rest a bit when the 'Call Attendant' indicator lit up. The indicator was on for the second-to-last row; today, there was no one in the rear except a couple. I quietly approached the row, trying not to make any extra noise and wake anyone, already leaning slightly over the row, about to ask the standard phrase 'Can I help you with something?' but I stopped.

The left side consisted of three seats, the armrests in the center were down, and a young man was sitting with his eyes covered by a sleep mask. A blanket was draped over his lap, which I had brought him a little earlier. At first, I thought the girl wasn't in her seat by the window. Then I heard this quiet, smacking sound. The young man's lips barely parted, and he let out a quiet moan.

My eyes finally adjusted to the dark, and I noticed that the blanket on his lap was moving. It was swaying evenly up and down... I guessed what was happening. I froze in confusion, it's not like we have safety briefings on blowjob techniques. Only later did I remember that this could be classified as a violation of public conduct rules in an aircraft, and I should have stopped them. But how do you imagine that? 'Excuse me, but you must stop this immediately,' I say in an unemotional and even servile tone and touch the young man's shoulder. Even now, imagining something like that seems absurd to me, although what happened next...

I carefully and quietly turned off the call attendant signal and was already thinking of quietly leaving to avoid getting involved in this story. Maybe we'll discuss it later with friends over a glass of wine. But then the blanket slipped off, and it was no longer possible to say I was imagining things. The small head of the young man's companion was mechanically going down and up again. Sometimes exposing the shaft of his cock, sometimes completely swallowing it down to his balls. The young man let out another quiet moan, and his hand dropped onto his companion's back, he began to gently stroke her. It seems they didn't notice me, which was for the best, and I hurried away. And even in the dark, I felt my cheeks burning.

For a while, I just sat in my seat, completely shocked. Whether I felt shame, indignation, or something else, I don't know, but soon it was replaced by another sensation. I got aroused. It was as if from the outside I could hear my heavy breathing, I felt hot all over, especially in my lower abdomen. If it weren't for this skirt, I would have immediately started touching my pussy right there. I lowered my hands onto my tummy, leaned back, and closed my eyes. The image of that cock, how lips were wrapped around it, and the young man's quiet moans stood before me. I don't know how long I spent in that state, but a quiet knock pulled me out of my sweet stupor. It seemed to be coming from the toilet. And then, quite loudly, they said, 'Help, I'm stuck.'

It was the toilet stall closest to me, and the voice was female. I quickly stood up, brushed myself off, exhaled, and immediately found myself at the door, leaning slightly against it. 'What happened?' I asked. A second's delay, then the female voice, a bit irritated and sleepy: 'I'm stuck, the door won't open.' She jiggled the handle a few times and pushed the door. 'There's an indicator on top, and near the door, right by the handle, there's a latch—please slide it to the 'Open' position,' I instructed the stranger. 'Yeah, I already did all that, it's not working—it's showing red,' she jiggled the door again. 'Please, calm down, I'll go to the senior flight attendant now, and we'll get you out.' 'Okay,' said the stranger in the toilet, pushing the door once more.

I was still in a fog from the surging arousal, yes, I was seriously turned on by what had happened. Carefully, I took a few steps and immediately stopped. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that the young man, that very young man, was sitting alone. The blanket was lying in his companion's place. But no trace of debauchery. After a couple of moments, I put two and two together and realized that the stranger in the toilet was the young man's companion. I didn't understand what was so special about it, I needed to run to Lena and rescue her, but then a thought occurred to me. A crazy thought. A depraved thought, and that feeling washed over me with renewed force.

I looked around, as if plotting some mischief. And indeed, I had something in mind. And that something made me forget about everything else. A minute-long struggle with myself, well, I'll just be there for a couple of seconds and then immediately run off to take care of things. No one will even notice.

Gracefully and smoothly, I landed my butt on the empty seat next to the young man. My eyes fixed on his face; it seemed he was sleeping and quite soundly. My gaze slowly dropped to his crotch, and I bit my lower lip. My hand seemed to reach for his fly on its own. For a moment, my hand froze, and then, as if watching myself from the outside, I lowered my palm onto his crotch and felt a bulge in his pants. Only one thought was vibrating in my head—stop this. But as if in a trance, I began to gently stroke his manhood through the fabric of his trousers. I kept glancing at his face, then back at my hand. A panicked voice inside me started screaming, begging for him to wake up and start scolding me, and for me to run away blushing and apologizing. But instead, I felt the bulge in his pants begin to grow.

A second voice joined the chorus of reason. A snide little voice. It insisted that the young man's tool was probably cramped in his pants and needed some air. And it seemed this side of me won. I carefully unzipped his fly and unbuttoned his trousers, then slightly pulled down his underwear, and his cock 'joyfully' jumped out to meet me. The young man turned his head in his sleep and made a quiet sound I didn't understand. He must still be fast asleep. The voice of reason in my head came back online. 'Well, there, are you satisfied? You've seen it. And it's been more than 'a couple of seconds.' Time to go.' But I hesitated, oh how risky this was, I had completely lost track of time. The thought-voice of the little devil in me wasn't silent either: 'Well, since it's come to this, then... wouldn't you like to touch it. He's sleeping soundly, and that touch will be enough for you to immediately run to the toilet, tear off your skirt, and play with your pussy until you forget everything in a haze of pleasure. Come on.' The little devil won again.

I timidly wrapped my slender fingers around his cock. It was simply a cosmic sensation. It wasn't fully hard yet and so hot. It seemed to me I could even feel the moisture from his companion's mouth. Oh, how dirty, she didn't even wipe his cock properly. I would have done it elegantly and left no trace of my service to his cock. To such a big, pulsating, hot cock. I didn't even notice how my palm wrapped around his shaft and squeezed it slightly. From that squeeze, his cock gave a little shudder. I looked at the young man again; he was still lying there with the mask on his face. I ran my palm up and down a couple of times and looked at him again. No reaction.

Then I began to move my palm up and down smoothly and rhythmically. Oh, yes. The cock hardened rapidly in my hand. I stared intently at his face and kept jerking him off. Some stream of consciousness was flying through my head. The desire to remove my hand and inhale its scent, the smell of his hot flesh. I wanted to lick my palm like a kitten, to feel that salty taste on it. I even started playing out a scene in my head. 'Do you like that, sir? Like this. Yes. Yes. I like it very much too. Comfort and pleasant sensations during the flight are our highest priority, sir. Relax, I'll do whatever you ask. Oh, yes, sir, you can call me a slut. A dirty slut-stewardess. Yes, call me that, sir. I'm your personal sex servant. My only concern is your cock. What, sir? You want me to moisten it.... Of course.'

I gently turned to the side, dangling my legs in their shoes, like a lady on horseback, and lowered my head. The smell of his dick filled my nostrils, I closed my eyes and released a small amount of saliva right onto the head of his cock. Then I spat it out and continued jerking him off. I smeared my saliva along the shaft of his cock. I swayed my whole body, and a shoe fell off one of my feet onto the soft carpet. I was aroused as never before, my whole body tensed like a string. My heel in thin nylon stretched out, and my toes slightly curled. Yes, don't be surprised, I'm a bit of a foot fetishist. When it comes to my luxurious legs.

I was so engrossed in inhaling the smell of his cock that I didn't notice how my lips touched the tip of his cock, and then I accepted his invitation, wrapping my soft, plump lips around his head. The voice of reason contacted me for the last time: 'I wash my hands of this, how are you going to explain THIS—I have no ideas.' My hand was still tightly gripping the base of his cock when I began to caress his head with soft, massaging kisses. Literally sucking on it, but that wasn't enough for me. An appetite awoke in me, and I wanted to taste this dick.

I tightly wrapped my plump lips around his dick and swallowed it a little deeper. My tongue pressed against his head, and I began to move it from side to side, awkwardly at first, but with each movement, more skillfully wrapping around it. I began to slightly rotate my head, as if drawing a figure eight with an invisible brush. A thick, salty taste filled my mouth, making me salivate. I couldn't have imagined myself being such a slut.

And then I felt a rough, heavy male hand descend onto my neck. 'Ready for round two? Because I am,' he whispered quietly and pressed slightly, forcing me to swallow his dick even deeper. I was still on autopilot, trying to perform some movements, but I felt I was about to freeze from fear. The mixture of fear from being caught right now and his commanding hand literally impaling me on his shaft—I confess to you, it's something. Even if he let me go now, I wouldn't be able to stand on my feet—right now, I was entirely his. 'Mmm, deeper, yes,' 'my dick' grunted. It began to dawn on me that he didn't realize this wasn't his companion. A certain excitement took over in me, as if from a sense of impunity—today I could be the most depraved slut in the wildest and most implausible situation—and I would get away with it 'scot-free.' Although a small punishment was still waiting for me.

I tried as hard as I could to relax my mouth, allowing him to impale me even deeper. I underestimated the thickness of his shaft; it filled my entire small mouth, I couldn't imagine going any further. And he kept roughly pushing again and again. Saliva dripped from my mouth down his shaft and collected at his balls, literally soaking them in my spit. Just a little more, and I would swallow him completely, my lips closing around the base of his thick cock.

The pace changed; with sharp movements, he was fucking my mouth with his dick. At first, it was even painful and unpleasant for me. Tears sprang from my eyes, mascara ran, and my lips swelled from the muffled impacts. Each time, he left his cock buried to the hilt in my mouth for longer and longer. I lacked air; trying not to startle him, I tried to grab onto something—the seat, the armrest. Involuntarily, I made stifled sounds, trying to breathe, but he was ruthlessly fucking my mouth. It was no longer me giving him a blowjob; he was fucking my mouth, roughly and mercilessly.

From the arousal, all the painful sensations, the so brazen and merciless violation of my mouth, disappeared. My eyes rolled back in pleasure when he allowed me to choke on his cock. With no way out, saliva sprayed from my nose. My little hat slipped off and fell to the floor, rolling away somewhere toward another row.

The sensations were at their peak; I hadn't felt such extreme in a long time, my heart was beating in time with the pulsation of his cock. Just trying to imagine myself in that moment made me even more turned on. Stewardesses must always look perfect, in everything. Neat hairstyle, uniform as if fresh from the tailor, makeup... I was now the complete opposite. A dirty, tear-stained face smeared with lipstick and mascara. Eyes red from crying. I was restlessly shaking my slender legs, having lost the other shoe too. And as if that weren't enough, he said: 'I'm going to... going to... co...'.

I understood what was happening but could no longer react in any way. My eyes widened, I instinctively tried to pull back, but he pushed me down to the limit, to the point of pain. My lips were flattened against his base, my nose pressed into his pubic bone, and I had no chance to breathe. A hot and violent stream shot directly into my throat. Of course, I tried to swallow something, but it was useless. For a moment, I simply blacked out, or maybe for longer. My vision darkened, I jerked once or twice, and then I came to with his still pulsating and squeezing out the last drops cock in my mouth. He removed his hand from my neck.

I was finally able to lift my head. My mouth was literally glued to his cock by a viscous substance of my saliva and his cum. My nose stung because the excess cum had come out through it, and everything was blurry before my eyes from tears. I hastily wiped my face, removing the most obvious