Best on Board

Slowly, his lips closed on hers and held there, frozen. She pulled away a tiny bit, completing the kiss and then opened for another. Bob was there too, open again and ready, and this time they kissed together, closing and pulling away in perfect synchronisation. Two more soft kisses and Bob tilted his head forward, touching his forehead to Vicky's but moving his lips inwards and away.

"There is no hand drier," he breathed. "Is there?"

"No," whispered Vicky, "It's a fire risk."

"She tricked me." It was a statement, not a question.

"She tricked both of us."

"I'm sorry," he apologised.

"Are you?" she said, moving to touch noses with him. "I'm not." She tilted to one side to kiss his lips again. "I'm going to buy her a big bunch of flowers," she smiled.

Finally he opened his eyes, looking into Vicky's naked and defenceless gaze, realising that she was telling the truth. This was not some cruel joke.

Bob raised his head again, opening his lips for Vicky to kiss, but still not brave enough to take the initiative to go first. Vicky tilted her head and kissed him again, not pulling away this time, but closing her lips in time with his and then opening again, developing some suction as she touched her tongue to his lip. Bob responded with more pressure, tentatively touching his tongue to the junction of their lips, not sure what to do next.

Vicky helped him, bringing her tongue to touch his, stroking lightly, entering his mouth and then pulling slowly away, teasing, drawing him back into her mouth. She probed forward again, extending the sweet contact along the length of Bob's tongue, tasting toothpaste, salt and peanuts.

The soft kisses had distracted her and when Bob's erection pulsed under her fingers she quickly began to make up for lost time, stroking through his pants, closing around the edges, greedily measuring his length and girth. Bob held his hands up by her shoulders, not touching and unsure where to put them. With her free hand, Vicky reached across and took his opposite wrist, moving his hand to her breast, and then guiding the other one behind her to cup her bottom, still perched on the sink.

Bob inexpertly felt the firmness of her flesh, shaping his hands around her curves, daring to squeeze gently, feeling the softness, pliant but firm under his touch. Gaining confidence, he moved his fingers around Vicky's bottom, running down the cleft covered by her skirt. With the other hand he stroked a thumb across her breast, seeking the nipple, but missing it and coming back for a second pass.

Vicky quickly popped the top three buttons of her blouse and then – momentarily losing contact with the bulge in Bob's trousers – she unfastened the front clasp of her bra, which fell away on the side that Bob wasn't holding. Whimpering small cries of encouragement, she returned one hand to Bob's erection and used the other to guide his fingers beneath the blouse, her nipple hard and proud immediately under his touch.

She unzipped his trousers and probed inside over his shorts, finding the root of his cock, squeezing and tracing its length downwards to the tip. He gasped at the closer contact, just the thin cotton of his shorts separating her hand from his manhood, and then kissed her again, harder, his excitement building as she rhythmically squeezed in time with their kisses.

Abandoning her bottom, Bob brought his other hand around and cupped Vicky's small breasts, softly pinching the hard nipples, marvelling at their texture; lifting and testing their weight, squeezing them gently together and stealing glances around her kisses. Noticing this, Vicky arched back, breathing in and lifting her breasts upwards, pressing on the back of his neck to guide him down. She gasped with pleasure as he kissed one nipple, sucking it gently and then releasing as she had shown him with her mouth and then moving to the other one, probing with his tongue and feeling the hard bumps on the areole.

Vicky felt a fire between her legs and silently cursed the triple layers of her skirt, pantyhose and panties. The pencil skirt stretched tight over her hips; from the outside it was possible only to touch the pubic bone, but the heat was further down, between her thighs, and the only way there was up and under her skirt. Even then, the way was blocked by her underwear. Unable to manoeuvre in the airplane bathroom, the task seemed impossible. First though, she would deal with Bob and then together they would find a way.

Her kisses became more frantic, voicing little cries of encouragement as he explored her breasts, rewarding the things she liked with a low moan and a squeeze of his erection. She unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his trousers, allowing them to fall in a pool around his ankles. She didn't bother taking them any further, they would just have to stay there; there just wasn't enough room. Reluctantly taking her hand from the front of his shorts, she hooked both thumbs over the waistband, pulling them down and playing her fingers over his buttocks as she went. Bending slightly at the knees, she inched them lower until finally they too fell to the floor.

His cock stood straight up between them and she stole her first glance, confirming what her fingers already knew. He was about six to seven inches and medium thickness, and right now as hard as forged steel with pre-cum beading on the tip. Vicky wished she could kneel down and take him in her mouth; to taste him and explore all of the bumps and veins with her lips and tongue. Instead, she looked back into his blue eyes and took him in her hand, her thumb over the top and fingers underneath, stroking and relishing the throbbing power as she gently squeezed.

Still holding Bob's gaze, she released his erection and popped forward off the hand basin. "This is not going to be elegant," she warned him with a shy smile. She hitched her skirt higher on her waist and then reached down for the hem, sliding it up and over her hips. She hooked her thumbs into the pantyhose and panties together, pulling them both down to her thighs before she couldn't reach any further.

There was no room to bend over, but unfazed, Vicky popped her bare bottom back up on the basin, slipped out of her shoes and lifted her feet off the floor and over the commode. Showing admirable flexibility, she drew her knees up to her chest and then extended them straight up in the air and slightly apart, watching Bob between them.

"That was the most elegant thing I think I have ever seen," he whispered, spellbound.

"We're not done yet," she said, holding her bare thighs with both hands to maintain the position. She eyed the tangled mess of panties and pantyhose between her thighs. "Help me."

Bob closed both hands around one naked thigh, his fingers just centimetres from Vicky's soaking but - at this angle - hidden vagina. He slid them upwards, relishing the smoothness of her leg beneath the sheer nylon until he could go no further and then repeated on the other leg, alternating until he slid the ball of nylon and cotton over her toes.

Free at last, Vicky relaxed her long, smooth legs, and braced them high against the opposite wall behind Bob's shoulders. With the flexibility of a gymnast, she leaned forward to kiss him again, and taking him by the waist she drew him forward into the V of her thighs until the shaft of his cock rested against the lips of her vagina.

Vicky thought she was wet enough, but she had been caught before spoiling the moment of entry by wincing in pain. Conversely, the feel of a man sliding into her, smooth and tight and without resistance, had brought her to an immediate orgasm before, so there was plenty at stake. She knew they were on the clock, but surely some more foreplay couldn't hurt.

"Touch me," she whispered between breathless kisses, opening her knees a little wider in case there was any confusion about just where she wanted to be touched.

Unable to see down between their bodies, Bob moved a shaking hand to her sex. Lifting his erection from Vicky's open lips, he touched her wetness with three fingertips but with no clear purpose. He probed around gently, mapping the foreign terrain of her womanhood by touch, brushing her clitoris to a surprised gasp and then following her whispered instructions lower until the resistance beneath his index finger fell away and he found her entrance.

Breathing hot and ragged whimpers of encouragement into his ear, Vicky closed her eyes as Bob slid a finger into her – only as far as the first knuckle – and then she voiced frantic denials, no-no-no-please, as he withdrew. She moaned with pleasure as he returned, deeper this time but still as smooth as silk, staying longer as she warmed his cool touch with her furnace heat. She arched, moving her hips, wanting him deeper, wanting a second finger to open her wider; she sensed his lack of experience but was reluctant to spoil everything with too much instruction. She allowed Bob to explore by touch inside her vagina, kissing him and trying not to think about how much it felt like a vaginal exam, making sure she reinforced everything he did right with moans and whimpers and soft bites to his lips. He was definitely a most attentive student; within a minute he had his first two fingers insert to the hilt, rhythmically fucking her with the length of the last joint and gliding sensuously over her clitoris with the tip of his thumb.

Soon his entire hand was coated in her freely flowing juices. The waiting was too much to bear and she was so hot – her need so great - that she felt sure she would come before he was fully inside her. Breaking their kiss, she touched noses and looked wantonly into his eyes, seeing that he was at least as ready as she was.

Vicky swallowed nervously and whispered "I'm ready."

~~~

She's ready? Well that's great, but what about you Bob? Are you ready?

It occurred to Bob that until about twenty minutes ago, his most memorable interaction with a girl had been when his physics lab partner asked whether he had a girlfriend. Hate to burst your bubble Bob, me old mate, but it's only an "interaction" if you answer her; blushing, looking away and getting a hard-on thinking about it later doesn't count, my friend.

Celeste raced into the memorable-moments lead when she put his hand on his knee and then thirty seconds later she demoted that to number two by putting her hand on his cock. And she squeezed a bit, too; you did notice that didn't you Bob? The beautiful redhead squeezing your cock didn't escape your attention, did it?

Since then it had been like a cyclone at an athletics carnival; new personal bests set before the ink had dried on the old ones: Vicky's hand on his cock, Vicky kissing him, kissing Vicky back. And then things had really escalated: his hands on Vicky's breasts – so soft, and the nipples so hard, feeling their weight in his hands, just enough to fill his palms with their soft warmth – Vicky undressing him and holding his cock ... all good memories Bob, just pop 'em in the bank and let 'em accrue interest.

And then he was taking off her pantyhose – Christ, did you see what she did with those long, beautiful legs, Bob? – he would have to consider later whether that was truly a memorable moment PB that beat touching her breasts ... touching? Bob, you were fondling, my friend ... but while his hand was between her thighs he was sure he could feel heat radiating out from between them.

After the pantyhose he had wanted to see her pussy, but didn't manage more than a glimpse in the cramped conditions. Bob had never seen one except on the computer screen and he was curious; he suspected that regular girls didn't look like porn stars because most porn stars didn't look quite right ... they looked ... kind of ... battered; much like professional boxers didn't look quite right around the face.

Then the room had started to spin; Vicky had pulled him close and relegated the cock-holding, breast-fondling and underwear-removing to a distant silver and bronze by – and let's not put too fine a point on this, folks: PRESSING HIS COCK UP AGAINST HER PUSSY ... no wait, scratch that ... WET PUSSY! Wet? How do you know she was wet, Bob, if all you got was a glimpse? Well I'm glad you asked Bob, because the answer is a good one. Every time he moved ... or twitched ... or breathed ... or she breathed ... his cock moved against her with a delicious, frictionless, surface tension. It was like rubbing your hands together with liquid soap; not sticky, they were just attracted to each other like they didn't want to pull apart.

Bob had never been so hard. As soon as his cock touched that wetness, he felt a giddy, tingling ... helplessness in his balls and bladder that was like an impending orgasm, but not the same. He had never felt especially in control down there, but like every kid over fifteen with broadband internet and a private room, he knew how to masturbate and he knew how to control his moment of release to a fair degree. But now his cock had staged a military coup, taking over his sensations and emotions to a point where he was no more than a spectator, worse: a prisoner. He didn't know precisely what was going on down there, but he did know two things; one: he was no longer in control of it, and two: he didn't care because it felt fucking fantastic.

When Vicky asked him to touch her, it was actually a bit of a relief. Taking his cock off her pussy broke the spell. Not completely, just down from DEFCON 1 (ready to explode and it would probably be all over before he was even aware of it) to about DEFCON 3 (still dangerous, but he might get a bit of warning of impending disaster). Touching her down there was incredible; hot and slick, making her wriggle and gasp and moan. Then he was inside; her soft pussy lips closing down over his finger, so hot inside she was like an oven. The finger fucking was extraordinary; he didn't think he got everything right, but he didn't think he got anything wrong twice, either. Kissing her and stoking her breasts with the other hand while she writhed on his fingers, coating his hand in that wonderful natural sex lube ... it was damn near orgasmic.

And now she was ready. She sure as hell felt ready. And be fucked if she didn't look good and ready, too. Olive green eyes wide open, pupils dilated, face flushed, pert breasts rising and falling with her ragged breathing, and those legs – naked to the hip – propped up by his shoulders and shaking with anticipation. Oh yeah, she was good and ready. But could he deliver?

Taking his cock in his hand, he briefly considered that this was the moment; the last moment of his life as a virgin, so he closed his eyes and moved the tip of his cock into the warm, moist folds of her lips and ... nothing! The cruellest of all possible practical jokes; there was no hole there anymore! God had decided He needed Bob to stay a virgin and Vicky's pussy was closed for business. For fuck's sake – ha ha, good one Bob – literally for fuck's sake, his fingers were just in there. Where the hell did it go?

He was about to panic ... really Bob? Cos I think that ship sailed about ten minutes ago ... when Vicky took a gentle hold of his cock and slid it down ... and down ... fuck! He wasn't even close ... and down, until he was suddenly sure she wanted him to fuck her in the ass ... and then ... heaven; the resistance beneath the tip of his cock disappeared and it just dropped into place in her pussy like a ball and socket joint. Now was the moment: one frictionless push forward and he wasn't a virgin anymore, he would enter the soft, wet darkness of her pussy and come out ... what? A man? Well, maybe not, but at least not a virgin.

Without even realising, he was back at DEFCON 1. That giddy, tingling helplessness in his balls and bladder came back the moment his cock touched Vicky's slick pussy. It doubled when her hand closed around his shaft and then trebled when she seated him in her entrance. Just the thought of leaning forward, overbalancing and sliding inside ... whoops, sorry Vicky, I seem to be fucking you ... opening her up and filling her with his cock; it tipped his fragile state and without any warning at all his balls were contracting and preparing to unload all over Vicky's pussy lips.

"No!" she cried, horror-struck, seeing what was about to happen. "Don't you dare!" And then the divine feeling of ecstasy radiating out from his cock was replaced by excruciating pain as Vicky pinched his nipple through his shirt and twisted for all she was worth. Oh my God, the agony! As the worst of the pain quickly faded, he realised with dim gratitude that his orgasm was gone too; not entirely, he was still at DEFCON 1, but he wasn't coming and he still had a chance to get inside her before he did.

Bob looked at her sheepishly. "Sorry." An apology seemed warranted.

"Is it OK?" she asked. "You didn't ... did you?"

He shook his head.

Having released him when he almost came, Vicky once again closed her fingers slowly around his girth. He felt himself nearly tip over the edge again but she saw what was happening and eased off, allowing the tip of his cock to rest in her entrance with just her fingertips touching his shaft. Feeling a despair that seemed totally unwarranted given that this was the single most exciting fifteen minutes of his entire life, Bob resolved to simply push ahead – literally – knowing that he would come in just one stroke, but at least the sweet agony would be over.

Vicky felt trapped; and it had nothing to do with the cramped conditions of the bathroom. She desperately wanted to feel Bob inside her, but he was so close to coming that she couldn't move ahead without triggering his orgasm. And, she thought a little uncharitably, he seemed incapable or unwilling to deal with it. Surely a good looking guy like him has developed some strategies to deal with premature ejaculation, right?

"Bob?" she asked, suddenly sure that knew what was going on. "Have you ... ever done this?"

He shook his head, not able to meet her eyes. And then, as if he felt something needed to be said "Have you?"

Bingo! But this needs to be handled delicately. She smiled at him, tilting his chin back up to look at her face and taking both his hands in hers. "In an airplane? No," she answered discretely. "And Bob?"

She waited a few seconds until finally he made eye contact, arching his eyebrows in a worried, questioning expression that signalled he was listening.

"Believe me when I say this," she said softly and earnestly. "It has never! Ever! Felt this good."

He looked at her without acknowledgement.

"Do you believe me?" she asked.

He swallowed and slowly nodded.

"Good," she affirmed, taking control again, holding his hands to her breasts. "Because we are going to make this amazing."

He stroked her nipples in agreement, watching with fascination as they pricked back up under his touch. Vicky sighed her delight, keeping his focus on the pleasure he was giving her with his hands while she took a firmer hold of his erection.

Now that he was refocused she looked back at his face and saw more of the man she had first noticed when he was working on his equations; the nutty professor with the glasses and tousled hair. It gave her an idea.

"Tell me what you were working on earlier, when you called me," she said. "What were those diagrams and symbols?"

The transformation of Bob's features was now complete. Gone completely was the fear, apprehension and nervousness; and in its place confidence, intelligence, and joy. And the effect extended beyond just the way he looked; still whispering, he described the challenge he had set himself, speaking with confidence and animation that she hadn't yet heard in his voice. To Vicky's delight, it also translated into a confidence and surety with which he stroked her breasts. Quite distinct from his earlier tentative fumbling, he teased and titillated her, finding sensitive zones that she didn't even know existed, sending floods of endorphin-loaded pleasure through her body.