A stewardess named Ryzhik.
That's it. The vacation is over. In a few hours, we'll be home. The last rays of the hot, Egyptian setting sun break through the window. The airplane cabin, usually completely full at this time, is practically empty. Thanks to the revolution for a peaceful vacation! I look out the window at the deserted airfield and the distant yellow sandy hills, waiting for takeoff. A mechanical voice over the speakers announces the safety and behavior rules, and a little redheaded stewardess, actively gesturing with her hands, duplicates the commands. Having turned into an attentive listener, my husband practically leaned his whole body into the aisle between the seats, watching and memorizing the rules for using
the inflatable life vest. Very interesting and educational! Has he completely lost his mind or overheated in the sun? My interest was piqued. I peer through the seatbacks, beginning to understand what, or rather who, has awakened such interest in him. The stewardess! She is not very tall, with neatly styled red hair in a simple hairdo, to which a red cap with the airline's emblem is coquettishly pinned. Ginger! Her small breasts are hugged by a red uniform jacket, buttoned on the bottom button. The top buttons of her snow-white blouse are playfully unbuttoned, temptingly revealing the coveted path between the excitingly trembling hills. The stewardess is not beautiful; she can hardly even be called pretty, but you want to look at her. She magnetically attracts the gazes of the entire cabin. The cabin is silent; you can only hear saliva dripping from the men's open mouths and the sound of zippers straining under the pressure of their swelling cocks. I ran my hand between my husband's legs, feeling that my dear husband had also succumbed to Ginger's hypnosis! He wasn't fully hard, but he was noticeably swollen. And even my touch doesn't make him look away from the redheaded wonder, waving her arms. Stop! This is wrong! What will happen when the stewardess starts walking between the rows, offering snacks, bending over? Ginger also has legs. I can't see them, but my husband's posture vividly demonstrates that Ginger's legs are just fine! Well, no, I won't tolerate this!I nudge my dear husband in the side and interrupt him, offering to switch seats. It's not very comfortable for me, the sun is blinding, and I generally hate sitting by the window. Although just a few minutes ago, I fought to get this very seat from him. My husband grumbles, grits his teeth, but switches places with me. As he moves, he rubs the lower part of his stomach against my knees, and I feel that he is succumbing more and more to Ginger's hypnosis. Sitting down, I assume my husband's hunched posture. I'm rarely wrong, and this time was no exception. Ginger's legs aren't just fine; they are simply excellent! The skirt tightly hugging her thighs is pulled up just above the knees. Black shoes with a small heel. The stewardess's image is wickedly beautiful! I'm not a lesbian, but I would eat this Ginger too! My husband turned away offendedly and stared out the window. We are taking off!
"What would you like to drink?" asks Ginger. She is already without her jacket. In a white blouse. She leans over and hands me a cup filled with fizzy mineral water. Her blouse opens up, showing slightly sagging hills with a small black mole on her left breast. Another cup, and again the mole. She straightens up, swaying her hips, moves to the next row, spreading the sweetish scent of her perfume. My husband snorts discontentedly and turns away from me again, stubbornly starting to examine the darkening sky. Shall we make up?
I reach out and place my hand on his leg. Thin summer trousers. He's not wearing underwear today. I know that for sure. I packed them in the suitcase myself. I slide my fingers and find his balls. I squeeze them peaceably. I feel his swollen sausage twitch beneath them. Poor thing, do you want Ginger? But she's not here, and she's unlikely to caress you. But me, I'm right here! My fingers ran along the sausage. Squeezed it. Let go and squeezed it again. No, jerking off my own husband's cock through his trousers is not serious. I unzip the fly, pulled down, inviting the cock to jump out. Oh, little friend, how you've swollen! Ginger, I won't argue, is good, but I'm no worse, and besides, my fingers have already taken possession of your slimy head. That's it, now you are in my power, and nothing hinders my movements now. I gently caress the cock. My fingers squeeze the head. My dear, I see how much you like it! You slide down in your seat, unnoticeably unfastening your belt, surrendering all your property to my greedy fingers. Your cock has hardened, and now my fingers are no longer caressing a swollen sausage but jerking off a tight, blood-filled cock! With sharp, confident movements, I rhythmically pull back the skin from the firm, slippery head. I squeeze the balls swollen with sperm. You stop staring at the starry sky and finally turn to me. Do you want me to take it in my mouth? Do you want me to suck it? Right here and now? In the darkened cabin? Ginger is not nearby, but I am? But I know you want Ginger, her invisible, wanton scent is in the air! Dream of her, but your cock will be mine!
I remove the armrest and lean over. Your cock is tense, it craves my lips! I run my tongue, stinging like a snake, over the tip of the head, right into the very hole! You shudder, and at that moment, I impale my mouth on your cock. Greedily suck on it. Release it and again envelop the head with my lips, dancing on it with my tongue. You know how much I love sucking your head? The tastiest part of your sweet little cock. And now the balls. Left... right... and again with my tongue up to the vibrating head. Let's add some vibration. I pull the skin back to the balls, stretching the frenulum. It hurts, but it's pleasant? It's pleasant, but it hurts? Endure it! Oh, my dear, how you want Ginger! Her legs with such exciting dimples under her sharp knees. Do you want to kiss them? Then kiss them, kiss them. I don't mind! And then kiss her higher... even higher... Kiss her slit covered with red hair. I wonder, does she have red hair there, or does she shave? Is she a natural Ginger? Stick your tongue into her scarlet hole. Caress her. Lick, lick, my dear... And now insert your incredibly swollen cock into her. Fuck her, fuck her... You arch your back, you want to cum! The scent of Ginger is felt stronger and stronger! Fuck her, fuck her, my dear! I suck in the head, stretch the frenulum, enjoying the thick stream of sperm gushing into my mouth! Mmm... how I love this moment! You relax and...
"Would you like chicken or fish?"
I turn around sharply and see Ginger leaning towards us, smiling! Her breasts hanging over me, her path, the mole. Her scent... My God, she saw everything. My cheeks flare with the reflections of the sun that has set below the horizon.
"Or shall I bring you tomato juice and a napkin to wash it down?"