Best on Board

Vicky let him continue, who wouldn't, sharing his love of the numbers as a physical experience though the pleasure he gave her. Winding down in his explanation, he finally explained how he had arrived at a solution before the seatbelt light was extinguished, but it wouldn't mean anything unless he was actually right.

"I have some good news for you, Bob," Vicky whispered with a shy smile.

"Huh?" he said, snapping out of his recollections and focussing back on her face. "What? Was I right?"

"I don't know about that," she said. "But I'm pretty sure you're not a virgin anymore." She lifted her hands away from their groins with a flourish. "Ta da!"

Bob looked down to see Vicky's sex for the first time, and to his amazement he saw her engorged lips open wide and wrapped tightly around the base of his cock.

"Oh, sweet Lord," he gasped. "I'm fucking you!"

"Well, that's up for debate," she giggled. "I think you have to start moving before you can say that."

"But what if I ...?" he began with anxiety. But it was an empty concern; he didn't feel as if he was about to come. He felt hard and excited, but in control.

He was unable to credit what he was seeing; his first good, close, live look at a pussy and his cock was already deep inside it; just half an inch at the base still visible, hard and bulging, stretching her small opening around its girth. He slowly pulled out, relishing the way her lips clung to his shaft, leaving a coating of her juices on him to lubricate his re-entry. When he was all the way out, he could more clearly see her shape: a small, dark thatch of trimmed pubic hair over the long, pink heart shape of her glistening womanhood, still open wide from his cock. As he watched, Vicky flexed and closed her pussy sexily, as if inviting him to open her up anew.

Bob moved his knob back to her slick entrance and simply pushed in without any pause or resistance, the warm, slick walls of her vagina welcoming him, holding him in their tight embrace. Getting to the same point as before, Bob pushed deeper, pressing his groin firmly into Vicky's swollen pussy, causing her to gasp and voice her pleasure.

"Are you OK?" he asked. "You didn't ... did you?" Echoing her earlier concern over his near-orgasm.

"Don't worry about me," she whispered, kissing his mouth. "I came twice already just getting you in there."

Bob looked at her sceptically and she opened her eyes wide in earnestness, smiling and nodding. He didn't think women came that easily, but he also understood that even if they did come, it didn't mean they wanted to stop having sex.

"I can feel you right here," she said, taking his hand and touching a place just above her pubic bone. "Your shape is ... kind of ... a little bit ... wonderful," Vicky said, shyly moving her lips to his ear. "When you're almost all the way in, it touches a spot that makes me feel breathless."

Experimentally, Bob flexed his cock, feeling it swell inside her and press more firmly into the back of her pussy. With another surprised squeak, Vicky's legs jerked away from the wall against which she was bracing and locked around the small of his back, her thighs still pointed upwards, raising the angle of her vagina.

"Still OK?" he asked.

"Hell yes, it's OK!" she whispered urgently, waving her hands and fanning her breasts. "Don't stop."

Vicky thought she knew what was happening: Bob's cock had an upward curve and with the raised angle of her pussy, she thought that he might be touching down on her G-spot, which until now she was sceptical even existed.

She hadn't been lying when she told him she had come earlier. Twice, no less! When he was distracted with his physics, she had started working his cock into her canal, setting off two separate contractions that spread a warm pleasure throughout her pussy before they relaxed, allowing her to take him deeper. As far as orgasms go, they were perfectly delightful, all tingly and tight around his hard cock, but hardly the screaming, bucking, climaxes that the women's magazines insisted she ought to have.

In her more charitable moments when she allowed for the possibility that G-spots might exist, and that their stimulation just might bring some women to orgasm, Vicky imagined that they would be much the same as regular clitoral orgasms. Clitoral orgasm, she thought. I bet a man came up with that one. She had never been a huge fan of her own clitoris; it was so sensitive and most guys were so rough with it, moving from foreplay to sex was often a relief. Except with Bob, of course. For the most part, Bob's glancing touches of her clitoris were brief and sweet little shocks of intense pleasure. To be honest, she wasn't all that impressed with the clitoris's role in a clitoral orgasm, because none of hers had ever involved the clitoris at all.

I've got some news for you Vick; we're going to have to rethink our views on G-Spot orgasms because I believe we're well along the road to having one. And here's the Stop Press, Sweetie: it's nothing like anything we've experienced before.

Vicky felt the delicious gliding friction as Bob began to fuck her, slowly drawing about three-quarters of the way out before running gently but firmly all they back in with a little bump to her pussy and a big one to what she now thought of as her G-Spot, setting off a little shock wave of pleasure and making her want to inhale and exhale at the same time. Instead she released a little yelp and clung even tighter to Bob's waist with her upturned knees, accidentally kicking him in the backside with her heels, which transferred into her pussy via his cock like a sonar echo of the initial thrust.

With his waist locked between Vicky's thighs, Bob thrust from the hips, building up a rhythm, varying his depth and noticing that even though Vicky squeaked or gasped every time he touched down, her reaction was even more pronounced if he only did it every three or four stokes. He could feel a familiar building sensation in his balls; not like the DEFCON 1 hair trigger of earlier this was simply an early warning sign that he was ready to come, but he could hold it off for a while longer by dialling things back.

Wanting to savour the deep warmth of Vivky's sex before he slowed down, Bob gave three hard thrusts in a row, driving firmly into her pussy and holding there, flexing his cock and relishing her tight grip down the length of his shaft. With each one, Vicky cried out louder, hugging him around the chest and burying her mouth in the hollow of his neck on the third one to stifle a scream. As he withdrew half way to regain control, she squeezed frantically with her arms and legs to get him back inside.

"No!" Vicky whispered urgently in his ear. "Don't stop. I'm going to come!" It didn't feel like a lie, but Vicky couldn't honestly say what was happening; she only knew that it was happening right now and it was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She felt each deep thrust driving her closer to a precipice, to the very edge of an experience that was foreign and exciting and scary all at the same time. Those last three thrusts drove her teetering to the edge, now close enough to sense the fall that awaited and all she needed was one last push.

Responding immediately, Bob drove forcefully back into her pussy, almost lifting her bottom off the basin with his powerful thrusts. After two more stokes it was happening; she was falling, spinning, tumbling into an oblivion of pure sensation in her womanhood. She locked her arms and legs onto Bob, holding onto him as she screamed muffled cries into his neck and he drove her helplessly from one explosion of ecstasy to another. With every withdrawal she felt that she would float back down to earth on a soft cloud of bliss, and then he would thrust back inside, sending her spiralling out of control again.

When finally she felt she was coming to some semblance of control, Bob stiffened and gasped; at the very moment she realised he was coming, she felt a hot blast of cum pound her G-Spot and she was propelled into a second orgasm almost as intense as the first. With his cock pumping and swelling deep inside her, Vicky felt Bob's hands close under her bottom and lift her up, driving her harder down onto his shaft as she ground her hips, relishing the feel of his cock stirring their combined juices in her pussy as she rained kisses down on his face.

Opening her eyes she saw her own wonder and joy reflected on Bob's face and realised that – like him – she had in a very real way experienced sex – orgasmic sex – for the first time. She could no longer kid herself that she had ever had an orgasm before this experience; it was now embarrassingly obvious that she had mistaken ordinary vaginal muscle spasms for climaxes. It brought to mind stories she had heard that expectant mothers can mistake Braxton Hicks contractions for labour ... until, that is, they actually went into labour and found out how monumentally mistaken they had been. Her discovery, she reflected with a smile, was considerably more welcome than labour pains.

"Oh my God, thank you," she breathed.

"Is it always ... that good?" asked Bob.

"Not for me, it's not," said Vicky, smiling shyly. She was afraid it might never be that good ever again.

Suddenly there was a crashing of the service trolley parking in the galley outside. Uh oh! How long have we been in here?

A man's voice drifted through the door, "Hey, where's Vick?"

Then Celeste's voice, "Probably got lost. It's a big plane for a rookie." Laughter from both of them, then: "Oh crap, I left the water jug in the rear galley. Could you go get it for me please Daniel?"

Vicky quickly disengaged from Bob and tidied them both up with tissues. "Quick, she's giving you a chance to get out."

Wide eyed, Bob fumbled in the tiny space to pull up his shorts and pants, which were now almost dry, and escaped quietly past Celeste's discretely turned back. With the space to herself, Vicky quickly re-dressed, tidied her hair and lipstick and stepped apprehensively out of the bathroom to face the music from Celeste.

Celeste was waiting outside with a big cheesy grin. She leaned in close and whispered "Welcome to the Mile High Club, Vicky. You can pick up your membership card from the concierge."

At the terminal in Coffs Harbour, Bob unbuckled his seatbelt and began making his way mechanically to the front of the plane. He was still in a happy daze, but was wondering whether he should ask to see Vicky again. He didn't see how he could, though; the crew were lined up at the exit and farewelling passengers, he could hardly stop and ask for her number ... not that he would have the courage to do anything so bold.

He could see the captain at the head of the aisle and then heard Vicky's voice from behind the bulkhead at the exit.

"Oh, Captain, I forgot to ask: one of the passengers wanted to know our altitude today."

"Really?" he responded as Bob got approached the head of the aisle and saw Vicky around the corner. "Air Traffic Control moved us a bit higher than I would have preferred. About eight thousand meters or so."

Vicky smiled at Bob as he went past. "Good bye, Sir. I hope we see you next time you fly."

"Bye," Bob said wistfully, smiling back.

Reluctantly, he turned around and crossed the threshold onto the air-bridge.

"Excuse me, Sir. You dropped something."

It was Celeste. Bob turned around and saw her pick up a business card. It wasn't his, but Bob was a quick learner and trusted that Celeste was working in his best interests. As he dodged the passenger behind him and stepped back onboard, Celeste looked at the business card. It was for a local bar in Coffs.

"Oh, The Beachcomer," she said musically. "Do you work there? That's next door to our hotel." She handed him the card, smiling and catching his eyes. "Maybe we'll see you there at Happy Hour. It's Two-for-the-price-of-one-night tonight!"