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29th August
2011
written by Dame Suzy

It finally happened!! A hot guy sitting right next to me. I’m not saying objectively he was perfect, but he was a 9 for me and I’m sure many other women would find him delectable.

Jet black hair, muscular thighs, beautifully tanned skin, one of those semi-shiny T-shirts that revealed great back muscles, and a nice muscular body in general. Light hairs on his arms, mmm. And he wasn’t a baby, in spite of his chiseled face with smooth skin. *Sigh*

And I kept sneaking looks at his thighs, his package which was sadly smashed by the tight crotch of his pants, and his arm, his shoulder, his head, his cheek. And then I tried to take a nap and could only manage to start a vivid fantasy about how after the flight landed he would lift me against the wall in the airport and slip his beautiful cock into me. Back in reality, I kept touching my lips – they needed to be touched – and I wrapped my legs tightly around each other to quell my girl bits, and meanwhile, felt short-of-breath and that liquid fire routing itself through my nervous system signalling that my various body parts were like We want that! I wonder If he noticed.

Then when I bothered to look at his face, I saw a really handsome one. Funny thing is that in the beginning when he moved out of the way so I could get to my seat, I didn’t really pay attention. I only noticed his face when our fellow traveler – I’ll call him the suspicious fidgety terrorist-in-training – got out to supposedly go to the bathroom. Then when the hot guy and I started actually chatting upon our flight’s descent, I noticed that gorgeous smile. Ahhh.

And he said he’d just moved to my city a month before with his wife and son, and how he didn’t really get out much since he worked from home. And that they hadn’t even been downtown yet. And I offered to take them out.

But I really just wanted to find a dark corner somewhere and please him and have him ravage me.

But my not being trained in how to seduce a married guy and also thinking that’s crass, we parted without my offering my number (even a 20 percent chance would have been better than 0%), my knowing full well that I would very unlikely run into this stimulating recluse ever again.

But at least and the fidgety guy didn’t blow up our plane though he was strangely missing from his seat the last hour of our flight including while we were landing. Weird?

Oh, yeah, so in case you thought there was an Act II, there isn’t.

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