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To the reader: This is a nine-part story of erotic romance leading to graphic sex. If you’re not into a lot of dialogue, and that’s what successful relationships are all about, then you should read elsewhere. Also, if you are looking for a quick jerk-off tale, then this is not for you.
I am so excited about my twelve days in the Caribbean that I started writing notes on the overnight plane home! The following is the result.
With an exaggerated sigh, the attractive brunette flopped down into the empty seat beside me, her bright red backpack clutched to her lap. When the last of the nearby passengers were seated I offered to hoist her bag up into the one remaining space in the overhead locker.
“No thank you, I can manage,” was the cool rebuff. I gained small satisfaction as she attempted to force the bag into a space designed for half of it, hiding my smug grin as she flopped back down muttering comments about sardines.
For those readers well acquainted with Boeing 747s you might be aware of the two sets of twin seats situated at the very rear of the plane, whereas all the others are either in threes or fours. In the paupers section that is. Despite the noise from the engines, I prefer to reserve one of these knowing that I won’t be disturbed by a parent and child but more likely to strike up an interesting intellectual conversation with a single person, hopefully of the female gender. So far, this particular encounter didn’t look very promising, clearly my new Carl Hiaasen novel was going to be well read.
We remained silent as the plane slowly filled up, passengers scrabbling for non-existent luggage spaces, arguing over wrongly occupied seats. I stared out of the window through the morning mist hanging over Gatwick Airport as the baggage tender pulled away, while my neighbour fiddled inside her handbag, and repeated the sigh. I sensed frustration or anger and was quick to spot her remove her gold wedding band. A break-up or heading for a secret fling?
To my surprise, the strained atmosphere eased considerably when she attempted to obey orders to buckle up, I was sat on her strap!
“Sorry.” I displayed my most charming grin of the day and lifted myself clear.
“That’s okay. I hate these bloody things anyway.” Her voice had a faint north-country accent.
For a moment she remained quiet, then, with yet another sigh, unbuckled and removed her suede jacket. Finally she settled, turned to me and smiled, studying my face.
“Sorry about that, it’s not been a good day so far.”
“No problem, hopefully the next eight hours will be an improvement.”
“They certainly can’t be any worse. I’m Julie.” She held out her hand and smiled. Her teeth were white and even, extremely kissable. I am a sucker for Hollywood mouths.
“Hi Julie, pleased to meet you. Tom. Tom Graham. From Kingston, just outside London. I am an architect.” For some reason, that little addition always seems to lead to an interesting conversation, and it didn’t fail me this time.
“That’s interesting, Tom, my father is an architect too.” Her hand was slightly moist, but her grip was firm.
“You sound as though you are not from this part of the world?”
“You’re right, Leeds actually, I left home at some Godforsaken hour, had a blazing row with my husband and nearly missed my train. And it was packed all the way down.”
Now we were talking face to face, I had chance to fully appraise my travelling companion. Julie was clearly of slim build and a little younger than my 32. When standing, her crotch level with my eyes, she had seemed tall, but then at the time I was sitting admiring the view. She was wearing tight pale blue jeans with the obligatory rips at the knees.
“I haven’t been to Leeds in years,” I replied, keeping the conversation going, “That was when I was a Liverpool fan.” I sensed disapproval and quickly added. “Not that I’m a football addict.”
Fortunately she smiled, “My husband supports one of the Sheffield teams, I can’t remember which. All I know is, he seems to spend more time there than at home.”
My married companion on this Virgin Atlantic flight to Barbados was blessed with cobalt blue eyes and long curly brunette hair down to her shoulders. Above her full painted lips poised a fine Roman nose, her cheeks still red from the mile-long safari from the departure lounge. Her denim jacket folded in her lap, Julie revealed ample breasts contained in a light blue sweater. She will need to remove that, I mused, as soon as we hit the blast furnace that is the Caribbean in March!
A female voice announcing herself as the assistant driver for our journey apologised for the obligatory delay in departure and we both gave each other an exasperated look.
“They usually make up for lost time on this flight,” I assured her.
Julie’s persona was attractive, bordering on sexy and apparently travelling alone. The brain between my legs was already working on means to extend our friendship beyond this flight. Barbados urla escort bayan is a venue for couples and families, with available single women hard to find. Those that you don’t have to re-mortgage your house for, that is! And with several thousand dedicated cricket fans occupying the island, the competition would be fierce.
The plane started to taxi and the magazine on my lap fell to the floor between us. Julie, still defiantly unbuckled, leaned forward to retrieve it, the vee of her sweater exposing an inviting acreage of tanned cleavage.
She glanced at the cover, and looked up at me with an unbelieving expression, “Cricketing Monthly! You’re not by any chance on the tour are you? The twelve-day one?”
I grinned and nodded. “Certainly am! You too?”
She nodded her head. The England cricket team were visiting the West Indies and a couple of the five one-day matches would be played in Barbados with the remaining game on nearby St Lucia. Those that had signed up would most likely be staying at the same hotels. Half the work done! Thank you mister tour organizer!
“I’m not really interested in cricket, it’s my sister that’s the real fan, she follows the team everywhere. And of course to go with it there’s the sun, sea, and you know what!”
I laughed, this might turn out to be fun after all, “Yes, I think I know what! Is she with you today then?”
“Yes, Sara’s the one in the green top, with the black collar.” She pointed forward a few rows towards the middle aisle.
Immediately a reluctant chivalry crept into the picture, with of course brownie points in mind, “Wouldn’t you prefer to be together? I don’t mind swapping over.”
I had unbuckled and half risen out of my seat when she put out a hand and stopped me. The plane still hadn’t reached the runway.
“No, Tom. Thank you for the kind thought, but I prefer it this way. When we are travelling she talks non-stop, it’s a nervous reaction. I booked this seat pretending there were only singles available.”
I sat back down. “If you are sure. What about the poor people next to her?”
Julie laughed, “Oh, that’s okay, she only talks to people she knows. Or fancies,” she added with a grimace.
“Is she married too?” I asked, pointing to the indent on Julie’s wedding finger. She blushed, but didn’t remark on the absent ring. I puzzled on why a married woman would remove her proof of marriage while accompanying her sister on a cricket tour. My devious mind settled for the obvious.
“Still single, lucky girl, although she is dating some weirdo at the moment.” She cocked her head, her eyes asking the question, “And you? I don’t see a ring. What’s a handsome guy like you doing on the loose I wonder?”
I laughed, “I lived with someone until recently, before that I was briefly married.”
“Quite simple really, she wanted a monogamous relationship and I didn’t.”
Her smile disappeared, “Oh, isn’t that a bit unfair?”
“Not really, we both had an open relationship until she decided to move in and ruin things. Rachel and I even nearly got married and that would have been a disaster.”
My neighbour replied as the plane inched forward in the queue awaiting take-off, “I know where you are coming from, you men seem to possess this primeval urge to fuck females, as many and as often as possible and, it would seem, more often as not when they are married.” She looked at me with a glum expression.
I smiled at her openness, “It sounds as though you have been on the wrong end of such a situation.”
She groaned to herself and looked away, “Tell me about it.”
For the moment she didn’t expand any further so, as the stewardess reminded her to buckle up again, I continued with my own saga.
“Rachel wasn’t so innocent herself. Unknown to me, she had been having an affair with the sister of my previous girlfriend.”
She turned her head sharply, “Your girlfriend was bisexual?”
“Yes, has been since her teens, although I didn’t find out until we two became an item.”
Like a giant eager bird, the plane was now hovering at the end of the runway and, as soon as the pilot stepped on the gas, Julie reached across and grabbed my hand, and closed her eyes. I clasped her hand in mine and remained silent, enjoying the unexpected intimacy. As soon as the 400 tonnes of aluminium and flesh had clawed its way clear of the tarmac I felt my companion relax, but I didn’t release her hand.
She opened her eyes and grinned, “You can let go now!”
“Sorry, I was enjoying the moment!”
“It’s me that should apologise, Tom, I hate take-offs. And if you must know,” she added, “The moment was cool, you have nice hands.”
I patted hers as I slowly let it go, “Are you sure? There can be lots of turbulence in the Atlantic this time of the year, and landing in Barbados can be quite bumpy too.”
She took my fingers and stroked them softly, “Thank you, let’s see what happens shall we?”
The seat belt escort urla light went out and we tipped our seats back to relax. Julie turned her head to me, her breath smelt of almonds, we were within tongue touching distance of each other. As if sensing my amorous thoughts she pulled back a little.
“You were telling me about your girlfriend. How long had you known her?”
“Ever since I was this high.” I placed my palm about four feet from the floor. “For years we were platonic friends, shared all our secrets, even the same workplace for a while.”
“So when did you fall in love with her?”
I laughed, “It was lust actually, she caught me in rather an embarrassing situation in my office. At least it was after hours.” (See: A Desk Job in London)
She clasped her hands together and leaned closer again. I had known this woman less than an hour and already I wanted to kiss her soft lips. Little Tom, dormant in my pants up until now, approved of the thought. “Mmm, sounds interesting! I suppose you were shagging your secretary?” I was soon to discover that a similar situation with her own husband was causing her distress.
I smiled. If Julie expected me to be embarrassed at the question, she would be disappointed, I was totally cool with this woman. “Not quite, not then anyway.” I acted a little coy, “And you really don’t want to know. After all, we only met….” I looked at my watch, “…forty minutes ago?”
Her eyes shining, Julie squeezed my arm, “Come on, now I really want to know. I am a big girl, I do know about these things. I want to hear the man’s side for a change.”
I placed my hand over hers, my forefinger exploring her knuckles, “Okay, your call. The office was empty, I was on my own, or so I thought, and I had just received a very raunchy email from an old girl friend in Australia. And to make matters worse, it was Friday night and I had no date for that weekend. Get the picture?”
She gasped, non-too quietly for my liking, “Absolutely. You were masturbating!”
I nodded, quickly putting my hand over her mouth and peering at the seats around us, “Hush, don’t tell the whole plane!” Fortunately, under the roar of the climbing aircraft, she wasn’t heard.
“And this turned your Rachel on? Not that I am judging, I think it would have had the same effect on me!”
The idea of Julie watching me stroke my stiff cock was very appealing, especially if she was playing also, but of course I was reluctant to tell her so, not at this stage anyway. I was beginning to suspect there might be an opportunity in the next few days.
“Yes, so much so that she had been watching in the dark before she confronted me.”
“So she was doing it too?” she whispered.
I nodded again. I couldn’t believe I was sharing these intimate details with a complete stranger. The raunchy discussion was now having a disturbing effect on the contents of my groin.
“So what happened, apart from maybe the obvious?”
Confined as we both were in this tiny space thousands of feet in the sky, I felt completely relaxed in this woman’s presence, and was beginning to believe our chat could lead to something far more intimate before the holiday was over. I wondered if Julie would be as keen to share the details of her own relationship.
“At first, we were both embarrassed, then we talked it through, and how we had fancied each other over the years and not done anything about it. Then, realising we were both still horny, we agreed it would be good to watch each other.”
“What, you carried on?”
“Oh wow, my husband would never do that! Apart from me catching him looking at porn magazines a couple of times. Now, my sister over there is a completely different kettle of fish, apparently she does all sorts of weird things with her boyfriends. I always thought her to be a bit pervy.”
“Really? Well I can recommend it. It can lead to greater things.”
“Such as having it off, which no doubt you two did?”
Now totally relaxed, with the exception of the organ between my legs, I laughed, eager to share more, “Yes, over my desk as it happened…”
She turned up her nose in mock disapproval, “How romantic! Not my idea of a first shag!”
“…and then again in the car on the way home.”
“Ah, that’s more like it! Even I’ve done that! So when did you both choose to live together?”
“It was Rachel that decided. Last November when an old flame re-emerged into my life, wanting re-entry, so to speak. Rachel wanted insurance.”
One of the stewardesses reversed her drinks trolley alongside us and we both opted for small bottles of red wine, accompanied of course by the obligatory peanuts.
When the red-skirted girl had disappeared into her kitchen just behind us, I toasted Julie, “Cheers! So tell me about your husband, he must be a very special person, or totally crazy.”
From her expression Julie didn’t know whether to smile or frown. “Why do you say that?”
“Allowing a beautiful urla escort woman, correction, beautiful sexy woman to wander off four thousand miles on her own.”
She laughed, “Actually he’s neither. We are just both glad to be out of each other’s hair. We are, for the first time in years, taking time out to do our own thing in our own space, that’s why I removed my ring by the way, just to imagine that bit of freedom, even if it’s only temporary. Do you understand?”
I nodded, “Definitely, I was married once too you know.”
“And anyway, as I said, I am not alone,” she pointed down the plane, “I have my sister with me. If you can call her a chaperone, that is!”
I asked the obvious question, “Will your husband be faithful to you while you are away?”
She gave a grim smile, “I doubt it. He takes his secretary away with him on business trips, so I don’t see what will stop him sleeping with her this time.”
“What makes you think they are having sex?”
“Same room in the same hotel? Come on Tom, I’m not a child, I know about these things.”
“Doesn’t that concern you?”
“Of course it does. But isn’t that a fact of life? All married men seem to have this desperation to screw around.”
Boldly I took her hand and stared into her eyes, “Well, this man didn’t, not while he was married anyway.” I grinned, “I made up for lost time afterwards though.”
She laughed, “I can imagine! You are a very attractive man.”
“Thank you,” I smiled disarmingly, “I do my best!”
She returned to the subject. “James and I should really sit down and talk about it, I really don’t think he’s aware that I know about him and Aleysha. And my sister has slept with him too, but she doesn’t know that I know that. You and Rachel are so lucky that you were open about your relationship. Mind you,” she laughed quietly to herself, “I am not so innocent myself.”
“I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but the first time I heard about him sleeping with Aleysha I went out and shagged the first bloke I could find.”
“Revenge fuck, huh? I hope he was a nice chap like me!”
“It was! And he was!”
“Not a bit of it, I enjoyed every bloody moment!”
I smiled. So I think did my cock, ever discreetly stiffening, “One night stand?”
She shook her head, “Three actually, David comes from Antigua and was in England on business. He took me to Devon for the weekend while James was away. It actually thrilled me to think that I wasn’t the only one in my family that was getting screwed illicitly that weekend!”
“This David was a very lucky guy, catching you at the right moment, alone and vulnerable. And maybe a trifle horny too?” I gave her a knowing look, which she interpreted immediately.
“Tom, please don’t get me wrong. Just because my husband is going to fuck his brains out these next twelve days, and I have taken my ring off, doesn’t mean that I am available for the same.”
I gave her my most innocent grin, “The thought never crossed my mind.”
She laughed, “Liar!”
I grinned back sheepishly, “Well, at least I tried. The offer is there if you feel inclined to exert further revenge upon your husband.”
“Thank you for the offer, Tom. Actually, I probably won’t be staying in Barbados.”
She nodded, grinning from cheek to cheek, and poked her tongue at me. For one crazy moment I envisaged that same tongue laden with my sperm.
She continued, “If you want some fun, you can do worse than Sara, but you will have to be quick. If she hasn’t pulled a bloke within a hundred feet of clearing customs, then she is not the sister I know so well.”
“She likes her sex then?” The thought of not having to hunt for pussy on this holiday was intriguing to say the least.
“Put it this way, she went to Sexaholics Anonymous and failed. Dismally in fact. She ended up sleeping with the counsellor on the first day!”
I looked over at the back of her sister, she appeared to be in animated conversation with her male neighbour. Julie was right. “You don’t mind her being like this?”
“If she is seeing someone, Tom, she is happy and out of my hair, so I can relax and enjoy my space.”
I asked Julie if this was her first trip to the Caribbean.
“Yes, what about you?”
The plastic meal did its rounds and, as we nibbled at the tasteless apology for food, I shared the events of my Caribbean Summer of 2007. Her eyes widened when I related the moment when I had arrived on the tiny Young Island with a woman I had met in the British Library, and we had stumbled upon another couple copulating in the dark on the beach. Within three days we had swapped partners and I had started my fiery relationship with Sue Marshall (Read ’24 Hours’).
She sighed and flexed her hand, looking pointedly at her temporarily ringless finger, “You lucky dirty sod, I would so love to have done something like that!”
I grinned with a mouthful of food, “That can be arranged! Young Island is part of St. Vincent, the next island down from Barbados.”
“Don’t tempt me, Tom. And don’t forget, I have another island to visit.”
I nodded as she continued, mumbling into her final withered portion of fish, “Not that I haven’t had my own fair share.”
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