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Five miles high January 17, 2012

Posted by Leah in Fantasy.

The flight from Boston to London is half empty. I am in the back of the cabin in a window seat. A man in his early twenties who wears a Patriots sweatshirt sits on the aisle. His long legs claim an extra inch of room this way. We make small talk over airplane food. He was in Vermont over the holidays to visit his dad’s side of the family. He lives in Essex. He asks me why I am traveling to London. I tell him this trip is to see my much missed lovers. After this pronouncement, the two of us flirt outrageously.

When the lights go off, the gallant man offers the unused middle seat between us to me. Seatbelt still fastened, I twist my body and try for sleep.

Slumber doesn’t come to me.

I hardly ever fall asleep on airplanes.

Raising the armrest, I decide to amuse myself.

A blanket covers the man’s legs. My hand reaches beneath. I stroke his thigh. He looks down at me, bemused. I flash him a brilliant smile. My hand shifts up and to the center. I find his cock. The pressure and grasp of fingers brings him to hardness.

The woman across the aisle from us sleeps. The crew are in the galley in front.

“Let me make you come,” I whisper.

He lifts and unfastens his seatbelt. He pulls down his fly. Unfortunately, he is wearing briefs. I cannot suck him dry.

I can only give a handjob. Fingers stroke the shaft through tight cotton, rising from the middle of the erection to the crown. Thumb opposite the other fingers, I perform a twist at the head.

To anyone who notices, we are a couple. My head rests against his thigh and uses it as a pillow. His eyes are closed. His body sinks into the chair, which leans back. The cabin is dark. That my hand vanishes into the blanket is difficult to detect in this dim light.

I add pressure. My fingers slide the underwear against the sides of the shaft as they lift up to the glans. The thumb pushes down over the frenulum. After this, I narrow my grip on the head, shift down again, and repeat.

The circumcised helmet, whose lobes I feel by touch, hops against the maw of the collapsed fingers after a twirl at the crest. Fabric checks the movement. Semen surges through the cotton and coats my hand. I look up at a man whose name I do not know. Eyes laser down at me. I meet his gaze coolly and bring my hand to my mouth, and slowly, I part my lips and scrape my fingertips along the bottom row of teeth to deposit his come onto my tongue. As a hundred people around us sit, I gulp his whiteness down. My tongue laps until I can no longer taste him on my skin.

Having had a draught of a man’s milk, now I can sleep.


This is the purest fantasy, of course. Who ever heard of the economy cabin being half empty on a trans-Atlantic flight these days? I squished into a center seat and suffered the airplane food and endured screaming babies and slept for about an hour.

I expect the flight home today will be full as well.

I owe stories of the weekend β€” Frank on Saturday, Amadeo on Sunday.


1. Genius - January 17, 2012

I read this from my feed reader, so I didn’t see the categorization. Great read though, and good luck on the flight.

2. Anonymous - January 18, 2012

Great ending. That was f*ing hilarious ! Made me smile.

3. TheSalaciousStranger - January 18, 2012


The effortless creation of your world, your word choice and the visceral nature of your prose all inspire me to imagine what an amazing lover you must be. The rare times I read erotica I feel detached from the writer and the material. Not so with you.

Someone previously mentioned they thought that an editor would kill for this quality erotica- I couldn’t agree more. It’s the best I’ve ever read and I’m glad it’s here. I look forward to whatever comes next.

4. adissolutelifemeans - January 19, 2012

The whole time I was reading that, I was like, “Jesus Christ, this chick is ballsy/luckyasfuck/daring/amazing/crazy.” For whatever reason, I’m glad to know that even the seemingly superhuman sexual creature that is Leah can’t get laid on an airplane, either πŸ˜‰

Leah - January 22, 2012


5. Frizz - January 22, 2012

I guess that begs the question, have you ever joined the mile high club or is that a fantasy as well?

Leah - January 22, 2012

It’s a fantasy. I’d do it, either with someone I knew or with a random seatmate under the right circumstances. The circumstances have never been right.

6. Qwerty - January 29, 2012

Tell us another fantasy. I mean what haven’t you done?

Leah - January 29, 2012

I meet his lover for the first time when he brings her home for dinner. He has me spread-eagled over the floor. Rope wraps my wrists and ankles. I am naked, of course.

They sit cross legged on the carpet on either side of my body. Their evening meal consists of sushi, and I serve as their table. To begin, they pour warm sake over my chest and drink it from the skin. He tips soy sauce into the depression at my navel, and they dip the food there. The green wasabi paste is smeared over my pubis, where it burns. Pussy pink slices of ginger are cool against the lower contours of my breasts. Chopsticks pull at my nipples and the labial lips. She kisses me, and after a while so does he. Fingers probe my cunt and extract moisture which they use to flavor their food.

After dinner, he stands straddling me, and I watch the woman suck his penis. Involuntarily, I compare her technique to my own. The come leaves viscid white streaks over my body. She licks it from my tits and abdomen. I will her to share the semen with me, but she does not. I ask for permission to eat her pussy; he disappoints us both.

When they migrate to the bedroom, they leave the door open for me to listen. On the bed that I sleep in, he takes the girl over his lap for a spanking. I wince sympathetically with her ejaculations of pain. Because I remain bound, I cannot masturbate to their expressions of orgasm.

Leah - January 29, 2012

The first half of this fantasy has happened; the second half has not. In reality, it turned into a threesome after the meal. It was also not the first time that the three of us played.

Many of my fantasies are about following the roads not taken. None of my fantasies involve condoms, but nearly all of the sex I have includes latex.

There’s also plenty I haven’t done. I imagine, for example, how it would feel to fuck while I am gravid and my belly is round and heavy. I have no idea whether the visions in my head approximate the real thing. After clubbing on Friday nights, I sometimes masturbate in bed thinking about my friend Jaime, who is the best dancer I know, has a noticeably huge cock, and is also gay. I dream about fucking on stage. The spotlight shines down on me as I writhe under the proscenium arch and an audience watches. (The blog accomplishes this, but only in a virtual way.) Inspired by porn, I have recently daydreamed about suspension bondage. I think about swapping: I am a fuck-toy for a dominant man, and in the same room my partner puts his woman through her paces. The men strive to out do each other. We women suffer, submit, and orgasm repeatedly. I fantasize about a pair of well dressed men, who play a civilized game of chess at a gentleman’s club for the privilege of fucking me. I daydream about a night with identical twins, who are handsome and insatiable. I want to fuck in a graveyard at night. I wonder about the mechanics of sex in zero gravity. I would like to try the glory hole scenario someday.

If I ever run out of fantasies to realize, it will be time to give up on sex and life.

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