1. Sex On A Plane


    Date: 10/12/2014, Categories: Humor, Author: The_Great_Destroyer, Rating: 11, Source: LushStories

    The "mile high club" is kind of a misnomer. The average cruising altitude of an airplane is 35,000 feet. Calling it the "mile high club" is really understating the deed. The Six Mile High Club. Now that's more like it. It takes a lot of work to pull off successful mid-air copulation: Planning, skill, grace, cunning, and most of all: discreteness. Unfortunately, I have none of these qualities. Fortunately, I was to drunk to know that before the flight. The plane was Sydney, Australia bound. A fifteen hour flight. It was my first time flying on a 747, and as soon as we boarded I was in love. It made the last plane I flew in seem like a folded up soda can. This new, glorious plane though; it was incredible. It had massive seats and, as it turned out, I was sitting right next to the bathroom. God knows I'm going to need that; I planned on getting shit-faced drunk and watching whatever dodgy movie came on my nifty little T.V. screen. I put my carry-on away and sat, watching everyone shuffle onto the plane and struggling to put their bags in their respective carriers. There's something you should know about me... I'm a people watcher. Planes and airports are the prime people watching facilities. You can check out all sorts of folks. Attractive men, and women, less attractive men and women, families eight strong with 6 screaming children, the flight attendant with some ambiguous sexuality between straight and gay, and then her. A stunning people-watching specimen. I observed her ...
    closely. Probably too closely in retrospect. She waddled onto the plane, smashed between a large man holding nothing but a McDonald's bag, whom I assumed I would be sitting next to, and an even larger woman who I assume was his wife because she was yelling over the girl at the large man. The girl was careful not to come into contact with the large woman's ass, and the large man's stomach. A delicate dance. The large people found their seats and placed themselves there. The girl kept walking towards me. My heart was pounding. Was it possible that the stars would align and she would sit next to.... nope. She strolled straight past me. "Damn," I thought as I continued to watch people file through the door. A few more cute girls found their spots around. The thing I love about planes is that everyone is dressed to travel, and I love that look on people. Especially because yoga pants are comfortable, and women love wearing them. I couldn't help but stare as several fit women walked past my isle seat, with their hips swaying in just the best way. It was at that moment someone tapped my shoulder. I turned to face the person behind me. Oh, Jesus. It was her. Her large, white sweater was pulled down past her ass, covering her tiny shorts, but only just. Her white bra was barely visible through her top; more of an outline than real definition. Her hair, red, was pulled into a lazy pony tail and glasses sat on the end of her nose. My eyes followed the curve of her neck down her collar ...
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