September 2, 2012

• Flyby

  I am posting this at the request of another Xangan who wishes to remain anonymous.  Please let her know what you think of her first foray into this genre.

  “I’m boarding now, I’ll call when you when I land. Love you, too,” I vocalize into the small, ineffective vibrating device I carry on hand that most people refer to as their cellphone, I refer to it as my incognito device. True, it was originally designed as a cell phone, but I had found combinations of alarm and vibrating settings to be undeniable in times of inconvenient need. I keep telling myself I’ll stop doing this, keep telling myself I just need to cut down a little, but the truth is, as guilty as I feel afterwards, I can’t stop. 

  I juggle my carry-on as I walk down the aisle, the only luggage I’d needed except for my briefcase, I’m always a light packer, only the essentials for business. I told myself it was a tool to help me stay focused. I watch the alpha-numeric diagrams as I pass row by row. 

  “Excuse me, I’m by the window there,” I say to an overweight man on the isle of my row. He grants an apology as he manages to get himself and his belly into the aisle so I can slip my carry on into the overhead compartment, squeeze by him, and slip my ass and purse onto my seat, kicking my briefcase lightly under my seat. I put that poor thing through so much abuse. Glancing out the window I see the barrel of the engine… it’s going to be a long, loud ride home. 

  Voices sound over the speaker system in a muddled mess as women with too much make up on demonstrate how the seat belts work, where the exits are, the typical routine. The engines sound and we’re moving slowly over a bumpy runway. No matter how many times I fly, the take off always makes me nervous, feeling those g’s pressing me into my seat… it’s a combination of fear and excitement. Then we’re air borne, before we know it we’ve reached our appropriate flying height and the seat belt signs turn off. I look at my watch. Only half an hour, yet I feel like the obese man is growing exponentially, fed by his attempts to strike up a conversation with me. Only seven and a half more hours to go before this red eye lands. 

  “Would you like a drink,” the stewardess asks as she and the drink cart stop at my aisle. 
  “Red wine please, here’s the six dollars, and could I also get a blanket, please” I reply trading paper for alcohol. 
  “Yes, Ma’am.” 
  “Thank you.” 
  Normally I would sip at it and watch the small cityscapes pass underneath the plane, but the fat gentleman next to me is making me nervous so I down it unceremoniously and hand the glass back to the stewardess as she hands me the blanket a few minutes later. She gives the glass a funny look but keeps on about her business. 

  I can feel the wine in my system, crawling through my veins like warm honey soothing the aches of travel away, lulling me to sleep. 

  The garbled grinding of gears wakes me. Fearing for the engine I look out the window, but the sound is emanating from inside the cabin. I can’t believe it, the man next to me is snoring like a jammed lawnmower. Great. 

  I try getting comfortable again so I can go back to sleep, but a dull ache chips away at my dreams until finally I fall fitfully back asleep under my blanket. 

  The wine colors my eyes, I’m dreaming of being back home. The morning picnic my husband has promised me. We sit under an overly brilliant blue sky on a red and white checkered blanket. Red wine sloshes in our carelessly held goblets as we feed one another eggs on toast or small wedges of cheese. 

  “Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he says knowing I’ll oblige. He knows I love surprises. 

  “Aaw,” I giggle while shutting my eyes tight. 

  Mushiness hits my tongue and my dream self spits the fruit salad out on the grass. 

  “God, that stuff is awful. I hate fruit salad and you know that.” Despite my passionate rejection of the fruit salad, he is laughing hysterically at me. 

  I wake up to the vibrations of the plane putting my ass to sleep. I shift positions again, annoyed with my dreams for playing tricks on me. I miss my husband, his touch, his kiss, and even his stupid pranks. The ache in me has grown to a hunger, the vibrations of the plane teasing me while I slept. I check my watch, four more hours to go. I can deal with this. I can. 

  I toss and turn until finally I look over to the man beside me, still snoring, still asleep. I’m jealous. I’m too frustrated to sleep. My hand snakes its way into my lap, pressing over the seam in my slacks to the lips beneath. Just a little, no one could know. My index and ring fingers press against my smooth slacks, rubbing the outside of my lips, pushing them center while my center finger plays with my clit. 

  The plane hits a pocket of turbulence, jolting me away from my hot pussy back to the plane. The fat man grunts and moves in his seat. I turn towards the window as much as I can while placing my right ankle up onto my left knee, rearranging the blanket over myself. The engines’ humming tortures me as I stroke myself through my pants softly until I’m sure the fat man is back asleep. 

  I quietly unzip my purse and feel for my phone’s rubbery casing. I pull it out and turn the screen on. Scrolling to the alarm function is muscle memory at this point. Looking to the screen’s top corner I check the time and set the alarm to go off the next minute. Discreetly I slip it under the blanket and over my thigh, warming the cold hardness of it against my inner thigh and wait. 

  It feels like forever though only a minute at most passes before the vibrations begin. I move the flat back of the phone against my pussy at first, feeling the focus of the vibrations over the entirety of my kitty. Before long, I need more than the vibrations, I turn the phone on its side and push it against my pants, forcing it between my lips and my fingers knead the flesh kissing it. 

  It takes control to keep my breath even and my movements slight as I get closer. I glance at the window, catching the reflection of the plane’s insides, no one is watching. I let the tension build until it warms my belly and expands in pleasure as I come. I slip my phone back out from under the blanket and disarm the alarm before dropping it into my purse. 

  I lay back against my chair, feeling that familiar oozing of happiness spread through me as I finally drift off to sleep again.

  • 9:25 pm
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