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My flight is delayed, so you get an airport fantasy lol

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This way, Ma’am


Don’t cross the streams. That’s my rule, with kink. No, I’m not talking water sports. I’m talking worlds. My vanilla world and my BDSM world, to be specific. Never the two shall meet, and that’s the way I like.

Except sometimes, karma likes to fuck with you.

I was heading out of town. Compulsive anxious worrier that I was, I was early. It was a small airport, and my flight was little more than a puddle jump. Used to the hustle and bustle of Denver Airport, I was surprised by how quiet the security area was, just a few passengers winding their way through the process. I took the even shorter queue, off to the left, through TSA pre-check. An older man checked my ID, smiling benignly as I fumbled my phone, trying to show him my boarding pass. It always made me nervous, going through security. Everyone was so serious. Even thought I had nothing I wasn’t allowed to tucked away in my bags, my palms were sweating.

And my cunt was wet.

Might as well admit it. All those stern expressions, the orders they barked at you. It put me in a very different mindset.

I shrugged out of my zipped top and stuffed it through the straps, then put the whole thing on the conveyor belt. There was no one waiting in front of me, and my bags trundled happily inside the machine to be x-rayed. I watched it go for a moment, then turned towards the metal detector. I stood on the marker ion the floor, looked ahead to the security officer whose job it was to motion me through—

And stopped dead.

I knew that face. I knew those broad shoulders, those strong hands. I knew that man.

I must have had a rabbit in the headlights expression on my face because he paused mid-way through motioning me through, a frown puckering his brow. A moment later, I saw recognition dawn. Yeah, he knew me, too.

He knew my face, he knew my name. He knew what I looked like naked, the color my ass went when those strong hands of his administered a dozen hard, swift spanks. Knew the whimpers I made as I hovered on the edge of orgasm. Knew the way I tried to wriggle and writhe and twist away when it all got too much.

He knew what it felt like to be inside me.

Embarrassment pounding out a drum in my chest, I waited for him to motion me forward and through. I looked at my shoes, the ceiling, the other security officer, who was busy scanning the contents of my bag. I looked anywhere but in front of me. When I finally dared peek, he was smirking at me.

He crooked me forward with one figure and, good little sub that I was, I went.

Nothing happened. No alarms, no beeps, no flashing lights. I didn’t have any metal on me. Nonetheless, he took my arm in a gentle but inescapable grip as I made to walk past him, and directed me into a corner.

“You set the machine off,” he said. “Now I have to give you a pat down.”

I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t. And I knew he – a male security officer – wasn’t meant to be giving the pat down. They didn’t even need to pat you down anymore, did they? What happened to the little metal detector wand thing that looked like a paddle? I don’t know why that had never occurred to me before, but I knew exactly why I was thinking about it now. It looked like a paddle, and if it had been brown and not grey it would have been all but distinguishable from the one the man in front of me had used on me in night’s past.

I stared at him, and he stared back down at me. There was a question on his face, one I could read as easily as the safety signs posted all around me.

Do you want to play?

Here? In public? In the charged atmosphere of the airport security area?

Fuck yeah, I did.

I tilted my head, gave a *** little shrug, and offered, “Oops.”

His eyes darkened and his smirk deepened.

“Put your feet onto the markings and hold your arms slightly away from your body,” he said.

I did as I was told, matching my sneakered feet to the two yellow footprints on the floor. I felt sweat break out on my lower back, could feel the heat in my cunt as *** rushed to the area in hopeful excitement, making my clit twitch.

“Eyes forward, mouth closed,” he instructed me, in a voice too quiet for anyone else to hear. “Don’t move.”

I obeyed, my skin already sensitized in anticipation. My eyes almost rolled back into my head at the simple pleasure of him running his fingers up my inner arm, and my breath escaped me in a rush when the backs of his hands glided over my peaked nipples. I sucked my stomach in out of habit as he ran his hand over that area, and received a sharp pinch on my inner thigh in reprimand. I held tense, thinking his was going to shift to my cunt, but he ran his hands down my leg instead, lingering at both ankles, so that the sting had time to dissipate before he headed back up.

I bit down on my tongue, determined not to make a sound when he slid a hand right between my legs and rubbed gently, even though it felt like the simple contact might throw me into orgasm. I didn’t move a muscle, but when he prowled around me, running that same hand up my ass crack through my denim, I couldn’t help but arch my back, presenting to him.

He stopped in his tracks and I remembered suddenly what a stickler he had been for following instructions to the letter.

Eyes front? Check.

Mouth closed? Check.

Don’t move?

“Oops,” I breathed, just loud enough for him to hear me.

“Oops, indeed,” he murmured back. His voice was deep and rich, and it sent a shiver through me. HE raised his voice for the next words. “Ms. Char, I’m not satisfied that you don’t have something secreted away that I can’t feel. I’d like to do a more thorough screening. If you’ll please come this way.”

He lifted an arm, indicating a door just a few feet away. I didn’t dare look at him as I started walking. My heart was hammering out of my chest. Someone will stop us, I thought. Someone will definitely stop us.

They didn’t.

He gripped the handle, swung the door open, and I walked through. And nobody said a damned word.

It was a tiny room, around six*** feet by six*** feet. There were no windows and the only way out was the door we’d just entered through. I turned around and watched as he engaged the lock.

“Is that procedure?” I asked, daring to speak now that we were alone together.

Silly me.

“I said mouth closed,” he snapped. “Turn around.”

I did so, facing the only piece of furniture in the room. It was a table, empty except for an open box of surgical gloves and a small bottle. It could have been hand sanitizer, but here, in this room, my bet was that it was lube. Ther was a roll of paper towels on the floor by one of the table legs, nothing else.

He placed the flat of his hand on my back, between my shoulder blades. Not moving me, just grounding me. Connecting me to him in this claustrophobic space where I felt I might splinter apart. Excitement was warring with anxiety – what if someone knocked? Tried to enter the room? What if we got into trouble?

“Breathe,” he instructed me. “Your only job is to listen and do what you’re told. Yes?”

I nodded, and somehow it was easy to do as he said. They were words I’d heard many times, but never here. Never in the space of my vanilla world. Apparently they still worked to unlock that secret core of me. The good girl; the sub.

“Take off your clothes.”

It was tempting to glance back and check the door, make sure it was still closed, still locked. I didn’t, though. I put it out of my mind instead. It wasn’t mine to worry about.

My shirt and bra came off easily enough, but I was so agitated I tried to take my jeans and underwear off before my sneakers, and then had the *** of getting tangled in all of my clothes. He didn’t say anything, but I felt his amusement as he waited for me to right myself. I blushed feeling the heat prickle all over my body in the coolness of the room.

“Turn to your left, reach out and press your hands to the wall.”

I did so, the position tipping me forward and putting me slightly off balance.

“Legs spread.” I obeyed. “Wider. No, wider than that.”

I stared forward at the wall, at the spot right between my two splayed hands, feeling the stretch down my back and legs, the openness and vulnerability of the position. Wall pose. It came to me out of the blue and I snorted.


His hand came down on my rump, the crack loud in the confines of the room. I flinched, almost losing the position he’d put me in, but I caught myself at the last moment.

“I seem to remember you being better at following instructions,” he mused.

“I’m sorry,” I offered.

“Hmmm,” he said. “Do better.”

He rubbed his hand over the mark he’d made, smoothing the sting, then he gave several more, alternating cheeks. One, two, three, four… I counted them in my head. All the way up to—

I lifted my head when he stopped at eleven, remembering his thing for even numbers, his preference for a round dozen.

He laughed quietly.

“A test.”

Then he gave me the twelfth one. It landed harder than the rest, my skin already red and tender.

“Now,” he said, moving away from me and approaching the table. “It’s my duty, as a TSA officer, to ensure that you aren’t bringing anything though security that you shouldn’t. It’s all about safety, you understand. I have to think of the other passengers.” He paused. “I’ll need to do a thorough cavity search to ensure that you don’t have any secrets to hide.”

Oh God, I was so wet and swollen, I swore I could feel it sliding onto my thighs. I hated role play, hated it. It always made me feel ridiculous. But this, here, in a sordid little room just feet away from the rest of airport security…

I was either going to burst into flames or cum harder than I ever had in my life.

Possibly both.

I kept my gaze dead ahead, determined not to earn any further punishment, but I listened keenly. I heard the sc*** as he pulled a new set of gloves from the cardboard box, the snap as he pulled them tight over his hand. I searched with my ears, but I didn’t hear the gentle sound of a bottle being picked up, or the snick of the lids opening.

“Let’s start here,” he said. He’d moved up behind me, and I felt a brush as his arms slid past my sides and cupped my breasts. He squeezed them hard before shifting his grip to my nipples. I gasped as he pinched them tightly and held the pressure. The *** bloomed, overwhelming the pulsing from my cunt.

I could feel the rubber of the gloves against my skin. It made the contact feel strange, alien. It was … wrong. Impersonal.

God help me, I loved it.

“Nothing there,” he murmured.

I held still as he ran his hands down my front. Lower and lower until he got to my cunt. He had to step closer to me, and I felt the warmth of him against my back as his sterile, gloved fingers delved in and found the slickness. He dipped inside me briefly, before moving to my clit and circling it.

“Put it down,” he growled.

I put down the foot that I’d ***ly lifted, trying to close my legs, to shut him out, to get away from the overwhelming sensation against my clit. Too much, too open.


I gritted my teeth and held on, riding out the intensity until my body adjusted and I started shifting slightly, trying to help him guide me towards orgasm.

So of course he stopped. Moved down and thrust two fingers hard into the depth of my cunt. He pressed them in hard, his knuckles crushing my labia. It hurt, but in that way that felt oh so good. I waited, knowing I’d get nowhere if I tried to guide his movements, and he rewarded me by fucking me roughly with his fingers. Hard and fast.

Oh fuck, that was amazing. I was hurtling into pleasure and—

He took his fingers away, took his heat away from my back.

“Nothing there,” he said. “What about here?”

One hand grabbed my hair by the pony tail and tipped my head back hard. The other one – the one that had been inside me – thrust inside my mouth. I tried to stop from gagging as he ***d his fingers as deep into my mouth as they’d been in my cunt. Understanding what I was meant to do, I sucked on them, feeling the weird contrast of my own wetness as the chemical rubber taste of the gloves.

Wrong. Gross. And fucking hot.

“That’s it,” he said, “Suck them. Get them nice and slick, because I’m not planning to use the lube.”

What? It took my brain a moment to process that. In that moment, he took his fingers out of my mouth and took up position behind me once again. A hand on my back reminded me to stay still, and then there was pressure at my asshole. An intruding finger.

“I have to be sure,” he told me, humor in his voice. “There are lives at stake.”

I was shy about ass play, he knew that. He also knew that I liked it, a lot.

I also was a big fan of lube. In fact, if I didn’t drop my plug while I was trying to insert it for play, there wasn’t enough lube.

I had never played with just spit before.

I held still, slightly anxious. My spit held ease the way, but between the absence of lube at the texture of the gloves, there was a friction there that I wasn’t used it. It was…

It stung, but it also felt incredible. I made a strangled moan as he pushed his finger deeper and then retreated, before repeating the motion harder, faster.

“Quiet,” he instructed me, and I had to chomp down on my tongue as the stretch suddenly increased – two fingers now? – along with the pace. He was fucking my ass with his fingers, plunging in and out. I held absolutely still, my nerves strung taught, as I marveled at the interplay of pleasure and ***. I wanted it harder, faster. For a wild moment, I thought about asking him to drop his trousers and replace his fingers with his cock.

I wouldn’t get it if I asked for it, I knew that, and I badly wanted to cum so I held my tongue. My reward came a moment later when he reached around to the font and dipped his fingers into my cunt. He found my clit and rubbed it, as hard and fast as his fingers were moving in my ass. I squealed then, I couldn’t help it.

Without pausing the hand that was fucking my ass, he tore his other glove off with his teeth and stuffed it in my mouth. I chomped down on it, tasted that strange natural and unnatural combination, as he went back to strumming my clit. He was building momentum, and I couldn’t hold my position anymore. I slumped forward, my face pressing into the coolness of the wall, my ass pushed out towards his thrusting hands and my legs splayed and trembling, trying to keep myself as open as I could for the fingers that were making my clit scream.

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

I chanted the word in my head, panting as he worked faster and faster, bruising me, pushing me, overwhelming me.

When I came, it was with a ***d groan that came out muffled through my death grip on the rubber glove. My whole body shuddered, and I would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t left my clit and wrapped an arm around my belly. He kept spearing me with his fingers, until I’d ridden out the very last of the tremors, and then he just held them there, pressed into me as deep as they would go, my sphincter pulsing around his invasion.

“Good girl,” he murmured against my back. “Good girl.”

He gave me a moment, then when he was sure I could stand again, he moved away.

“All right,” he said, all business once more. “I’m satisfied that you aren’t hiding anything on your person. You are free to get dressed now.”

I giggled, feeling light-headed and hysterical. Somehow I got back into my clothes and I managed to walk back out of the room on my own two feet, even if my legs were trembling and there was a glazed look about my eyes.

“You can collect your bags from over here,” he told me, walking over to the end of the conveyor belt where my bag waited, lonely and wondering what had happened to its owner.

“You all right?” he murmured to me as I tugged on my zipped top, I felt like I was still naked, like I was the center of a hundred curious gazes.

“Yeah,” I managed to mumble.

“Good,” he said. “Have a safe flight.”

“You too,” I replied stupidly. Then I grabbed up my bag and I made my way to departures.

What was my gate number again? 
Thanks for this . I know it's a fantasy but a girl can dream . 2nd time going on a plane and hoping I get some eyecandy x
That’s a great story you are very talented with writing
I had a layover in KC onetime, I didn't wanna do my hair or anything that day so I just through on this black cowboy hat I had with some jeans and a black button up shirt.

I was kind of waiting in my seat in the lobby daydreaming when out of the blue this blonde girl came to me and asked to sit down. I happily obliged, she was dressed very relaxed and covered up with glasses and baseball cap. But her mom jeans and baggy shirt couldn't hide her smoking body underneath then I notice her wedding ring. "Too bad." I thought. She then tells me all the other seats were next to creeps or gross looking people and women and she didn't really like strange women. We chatted for awhile I was on my way south and she was headed to California. We both had our layover in Denver so the plane ride there is all we had. While in the boarding line she saw a female airport employee wearing knee pads., & nudged me with her elbow and pointed her out. "Do you suppose the pilot makes her wear those?" She said with a wink and a sligh smile.

At this point I thought she was obviously hitting on me and decided to make a move. "Hey I don't really like any of these other strangers either. If we have a free seat next to us on the flight whaddya say we sit with each other?"

I was surprised
When she not only agreed but gave me a smile that said she was hoping I'd ask.

On the flight we were several feet away but as fate would have it the seat next to me was infact empty. I said her name, but she couldn't hear me over the commotion I almost gave up and thought if I pushed I'd be a creep, but I realized these things don't happen often so I pushed my way through the crowded isle and tapped her shoulder.

She was surprised but saw me and looked a little worried but inquisitive as if she had forgot something, until I told her I have an empty seat and gestured where I was sitting with a tilt of my head.

She smiled and followed me to my seat. The two of us sat down and began to get comfortable. She took off her cap exposing her curly blond hair, and i noticed her top couple buttons of her blouse had come undone. "Did she do that on purpose?" I wondered. We both produced little liquors from our carry on bags and smiled and laughed about our "common interests" we decided to sh a re with each other and pretty soon we were a little buzzed. Turns out neither one of us liked to fly sober. We began to make very vanilla conversation. What we do, what were "into" when she showed me her other flying secret. She reached into her tiny backpack carry on and produced a smutty novel. We shared glances and I said, "Ya know... I've always had a thing for blondes" & she said "Well apparently I have a thing for handsome county boys."

At this point the tension was so thick you could feel it. I put my hand on her thigh and looked into her eyes. She was not opposed, but I had to ask anyway... I looked down at my hand and gave her thigh a definite but not too hard squeeze. "You don't mind do you?"

And she said "trust me I don't."

So I pushed further.

"I think we should kiss. Best case scenario, you love it and we have a lot of fun. Worst case scenario you hate it, fake it and leave the plane and we never see each other again. But you have a crazy story to share with your friends back home."

She smiled and nodded in agreement. I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers softly. Her lips were soft and the smell of her hair intoxicating... we felt warm to the touch and I could feel my jeans getting tight. I run my fingers through her hair and pull away only so I can come back and kiss her better.

The second kiss is deeper and I breath her in, my lips part slightly and she takes my que. Her mouth opens and our tongues come together ever so softly... we make out softly and intimately before coming back and staring into her eyes. My gaze goes downward to her blouse the top buttons undone showing slight collar bone but from this angle I can look down and see her supple breaststroke and her black bra. I look up, and our eyes meet she knew I looked. "More?" I ask of her...

She seemingly catches her breath and runs her fingers through her hair coming to grips with her crazy decisions. "God yes." She replies before we kiss passionately again. This time my hand slides between her legs the pervert in me comes out as I traces my fingers down the center of her crotch. I can feel the warmth and wetness of her pussy it was almost throbbing to my touch her eyes clothes and a soft moan escapes her lips.

My jeans are now unbearably tight even ***ful. I take my hat off and place it in my lap. Then adjust myself. My cock is now rock hard and extending down my pat leg while it sit in my uncomfortable airline seat.

"You poor thing." She says as her hand goes under my hat. I feel her hand on my shaft through my jeans and her eyes widen to pleasant surprise. Her hand is hungry in her exploration she craves my manhood she loves the swollen cock in her hand she wastes no time trying to jack me off through the denim. The touch of this goddess is driving me wild the lust in her eyes universal.

"It's been so long since I felt the hard member of a man."

"I thought you were married" I reference her wedding ring. "I am" she hesitates... "to a woman."

We kiss again and this time she spreads her legs giving me ample access to her pussy. I kiss down her neck to her exposed collar bone. She squeezes my cock through my jeans as I rech up and undo more of her blouse. I reach into her blouse and slide my fingers under her bra. My fingers brush passed her hard nipple she moans and tilts my head up with her free hand. I cup her breast in a firm squeeze and she pulls my chin close and ***s her tongue in my mouth. I feel her hand fumbling with my zipper when we he a loud "ahem" of annoyed or jealous pale passanger adjacent.

We part and she blushes.

"If you go to the bathroom. I will follow you."
I said confidently.

She gives me a wicked smile and adjusts herself, before standing.

Over the speakers the captain announced our arrival and asks everyone to be seated for our landing.

Our trys would have to wait for a different bathroom.
  • 2 weeks later...

Hot story  madam.  🔥

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