It’s not a busy airport.
Not like JFK or LAX. Its small airport in a small-ish city. A city large enough to have an airport, but only an airport with small planes. So, it’s not like we were on display for the whole world to see.
And it had been so long. To simply look at him was a turn on, to stand next to him, smell him, was driving me insane. I had dropped off my passenger, he was going through security and waiting to board, out of my sight, past the point of my assistance.
And, really, its not a busy airport.
Its not like there are multiple terminals and runways, there is not the steady stream of people you expect at an airport. It was easy to spot him, we stood, just talking, occasionally reaching out to touch the other’s face or hand. A couple of kisses, because we couldn’t, never could, resist. We hadn’t really planned anything, there was just a small, very small, window of opportunity to see each other, and we took advantage of the chance. Even if it was just a few minutes, when I was dropping someone off at the airport. Why wouldn’t we?
I mean, its not like its a busy airport.
So, when he pulled me close to him, standing in short-term parking, I didn’t bother looking around to see who could see us. When he pressed himself into me, I welcomed it, a charge ran from my pelvis outward when I felt his erection, considered it there, waiting for me. I didn’t bother holding myself in check when his tongue entered my mouth, no, I opened wide, inviting further invasion, climb into me through my mouth. I found myself sucking his tongue, conscious thought and decorum leaving my brain.
Why not? Its a rather un-busy airport.
But, as is always the case with this man and me, we wanted more, more than just standing next to my car, kissing. He wanted his hand in my bra, I wanted to taste his skin. “Let’s sit in your car, can we?” he asks. “I need to touch you.” This made me nuts, caused my nipples to pop up, my twat to gush, his admission of need. Because I was feeling the same, desire so strong it was becoming impossible to deny. Surely, sitting in my compact car will be alright.
After all, its not a busy airport.
So we sat in my car, reaching over the gearshift between us. We made out like teenagers, although we both have children past their teens. He reached over, unbuttoned my blouse, slipped his hand down, cupping my breast. I can hear nothing, then, the sound of a jet engine, the whine raising in tone, then the sound of it moving along the runway, preparing for takeoff. He pulls my bra down, puts his mouth over my nipple, a spear of sensation darts from his mouth directly to my pussy. The plane takes off, the high pitched whine fading away, then silence. There is not another flight scheduled for a while.
Because its not a busy airport.
As is always the case when I am with this man, and indeed sometimes when I am not, I found myself completely consumed, I wanted him, it drove out every other thought. We kissed, harder and harder, and then I realized I had come up out of my seat, and was on top of him, there in the passenger seat of my car. “I . . . wow, I need to take a minute, I suppose, chill the hell out.” I crawl back behind the wheel, taking deep breaths. I leaned toward him, kissing him, softly, trying to avoid a full court press, but then I am immediately drawn back to the need to have him, right there, in my car, in short-term parking. I pulled him toward me, kissing his mouth, his throat, my hands under his shirt, over his jeans, his hard-on irresistible. He unzipped his pants, and I got to put my hand on his dick, the very dick I had thought about every day, had in fact fantasized about, hard as a rock.
But I’m sure no one noticed, as it is not a busy airport.
I think, am almost sure, I moaned, made some sound, a gasp maybe, “Please . . . “ I say, not even sure what I am asking for, only that I want want want. “Okay,” he said, and I don’t know if he knew what he as agreeing to either. But I know what I want as soon as he says the word, that gorgeous dick in my mouth.
I pulled it free of his underwear, stopping briefly to look, the sight of it takes my breath. I put my mouth over it, thinking to myself it would only be for a second, just a taste. I had remembering it, the feel of him in my mouth, and I just went on instinct, almost feral. I had no plan, didn’t really think think it would last longer than an instant, after all, we were in public, at an airport.
Although its not a busy airport.
Once I got him in my mouth, however, I found it impossible to stop. It was so purely sexual, so primal, sucking him, hearing the sounds he was making, knowing how it felt, knowing he was under my control, having that dick, right there, after thinking of it for so many weeks, was more than I could sample and then walk away. The more I had of it, the more I wanted. It was if I had been starving and was shown an all you can eat buffet. I just wanted, could not get enough. I wanted to consume him, or more specifically, I wanted to consume his dick. I wanted to take bites of it, of him.
I wanted to swallow him whole.
And I knew we didn’t have a lot of time. We both had commitments, I had dropped off my passenger, he had come to the airport on his way to work, people were waiting for both of us. Neither of us had any legitimate reason to be staying here, in my car, at the airport.
Even if it isn’t a busy airport.
So, when I didn’t stop, he didn’t either. As the announcement blasted that the next flight was boarding, he came. And came and came. With what could be described as almost disbelief, that this could happen, a grown man getting sucked off in the middle of the day, in the middle of the week, in the middle of a parking lot. I however, was not surprised, not as much as he was. I was just glad, turned on. I am greedy for this man, especially his sex. His dick. Eating him is just that — I want to eat him up, his cock, his cum, when he gave it to me that day at the airport, I swallowed it as quickly as he shot it out, no thought, pure instinct. Like it fed me, it was mine, he was mine, I was taking this with me, strengthening a bond of some kind. I knew he had never gotten a blow job at an airport.
Especially not this one, there’s not much going on here. After all, its not a busy airport.
It’s not a busy airport.