I always take red-eye flights. They’re quiet, they’re calm, and more often than not, they’re less than half-full. The motion of the plane soaring through the friendly skies gave me time, space, and inspiration to write. I would craft stories about the other passengers, imagining their lives outside of the 737s I always seemed to find myself on. No matter when, no matter where, I’m always on a 737, two rows from the back, watching everyone and everything.
On this flight to Chicago, I didn’t expect to see anyone behind me. To my surprise, an older gentleman sits in the very back row, his eyes closed in peaceful repose. I try not to disturb him as I make my way down the aisle and take my seat. When I booked my ticket, it didn’t show anyone around, and I paid extra for the isolation. I grumble to myself about the airline when suddenly, two blonde heads pop up, giggling and wiping their mouths. The older man opens his eyes momentarily, winks theatrically at me, then closes them again as the women settle in beside him. The lights on the plane dim, and the women go back to giggling and chatting in low, hushed tones.
I couldn’t make out much of what they said. I caught a word here and a phrase there as the flight stewards gave their requisite pre-flight safety instructions. My mind wandered during the life vest demonstration, and I began to think about the group behind me. He and his voluptuous companions were the perfect story fuel. In my head, the film played out in black and white. The older talent agent, the eager ingenues, and a dark, quiet plane. Hushed tones and promises of being made stars. Giggles, whispers of pleasure, and the sound of zippers being pulled danced through my head like the refrains of a song.
I pull my iPad out and begin jotting down notes about the women tittering and murmuring behind me: blonde, pretty, big tits, white teeth, smeared lipstick. I pop in my AirPods and start to write. The words fly from my fingers, and soon I have the entire first chapter drafted. While the headphones block out the sound of the engines, they don’t block out the jarring feeling of my seat being kicked.
I feel another knee in my back and jolt, trying to ignore it until it becomes more persistent. It’s almost rhythmic, as though the man were keeping time by jiggling his leg. The constant knocking in the small of my back becomes more than annoying after a few minutes. It becomes painful. I pull one earbud out, set it on my tray, and work up the nerve to say something to the gentleman. I’ve never been one for confrontation, but this is excessive.
A soft moan and a slippery, wet pop fill the stale air behind me, giving me pause. One of the women sighs, and it sounds more erotic than it should have. It sounds pleasurable. It sounds… Orgasmic? I shake my head to clear it of the naughty, nasty thoughts I’ve been formulating. Suddenly, the man behind me speaks, his voice muffled. It is low and rumbly, blending with the sound of the engine. I strain to hear it over the ambient noises, but I catch the gist.
“You’re going to go up there and apologize. If you don’t do what you’re told, you won’t get your reward. And, we both know how much you love Daddy’s red-eye gravy…”
I wasn’t counting on him being their father.
Oh, shit.
That puts an entirely new spin on my story. I should have known better. I start rapidly deleting every dirty word I’ve typed, feeling shame burn through me. He’s old enough to be their father, but that wouldn’t explain the things I saw, or what I heard when I shouldn’t have been listening in. The keystrokes begin to disappear from my screen when one of the women speaks up.
“But Daddy, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’ve been knocking into his back the entire flight. He’s going to get up and say something to the stewards, and we’ll all be fucked.”
I knew I shouldn’t be listening in on their hushed conversations, but the man’s voice was hypnotic. Calm and careful, his voice never rose above a steady whisper while he scolded the young woman. He sounded foreign, from a far-off place with sheep and mountains and lochs. I stay rooted in place, frozen in my seat, as he continues his firm admonishments.
“You’re going to be a good girl and apologize to the man in front of us,” he growls, emphasizing the words good girl. I feel a familiar tug in my guts at the sound and stop typing. I know that tone of voice well. I’m intimately familiar with that tone. I was starting to get a very different idea about the man and the two women beside him. Not father and daughters, not anymore. He was something more… Dominant. I wanted to hear what he would say next, and I held my breath.
He picks up where he left off. “I’m sure he’s tired of feeling your head bounce against the back of his seat. I know you’re enthusiastic, but you need to be more careful.”
“But Daddy…” The woman whines, and he puts a stop to it with a low growl.
“No buts. Go up there, and offer him a proper apology. Now.”
I hear a soft slap as the seats behind me begin to shift. I hold still, trying not to give myself away. It’s one thing to make up stories about people in the middle of the night. It’s another thing to talk to them. I close the tab on my iPad and pretend to scroll aimlessly, trying to cover up the fact that I’d heard every word.
Out of the corner of my eye, one of the beautiful blonde women approaches and sits beside me, smiling an innocent, soft smile. She leans in and introduces herself with her hand on my arm, her lips in my ear.
“Hi, I’m Carrie. I’m sorry we keep… Kicking you. There’s just no room to move back here, is there?” Her voice is soft and lyrical in my ear, and in moments it transports me far away. She drags her finger up my sleeve and pulls me back to reality, back to seat 38E.
“Hello, Carrie. It’s all right, it’s nothing to apologize for,” I begin, swallowing a lump in my throat. Carrie’s hand slides down the armrest to my knee, her fingers squeezing lightly.
“Daddy says I have to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to, it’s no trouble at all,” I reassure her. My voice begins to rise as her finger trails down my thigh. Her eyes lock onto mine, and her cheeks begin to flush while she bites her lower lip. She looks like early-00’s Britney Spears, complete with big, brown, doe eyes and a luscious pink pout. Her white shirt is cut low, and when she leans in, I can see clear down to her pierced navel. She’s not wearing a bra, and her dusty rose nipples poke through the thin fabric in the cool air.
“Whatever Daddy says, I do,” she says. I drag my eyes up her body and swallow, my mouth gone dry. Her tongue slides over her pretty, glossy pout suggestively, surreptitiously drawing me closer. Carrie’s hand moves down my thigh to the bulge beginning to take shape in the front of my gray sweats. I dressed for comfort for this flight, not expecting to get groped mid-air.
She grips my cock and I sit bolt upright, the breath hitching in my throat. Carrie strokes me through the thick fabric, teasing my tip as it swells. She puts her lips in the shell of my ear and sucks on my lobe, nibbling it gently.
“Whatever Daddy wants, Daddy gets. And right now, Daddy wants me to make it up to you.” Her voice is low, careful, and breathy in my ear while she palms my stiffening cock. I suck in a sharp breath through my clenched teeth and try to remember where I am. The stewards will be around any moment with the drink cart. The cabin is nearly empty, but there are still a few people who haven’t dozed off. Soft blue screen lights illuminate the shape of their heads, bobbing along with headphones in their ears.
“Carrie, I don’t think this is a good idea…”
“Just let her work her magic, my boy.” The man behind me whispers in my ear, and my body tenses. He chuckles, a hearty, throaty sound, and continues. “Carrie is the best little cocksucker, isn’t she?”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice is low, so only we can hear her. Her hand tightens around my cock as her thumb rubs circles around the head.
“And Carrie’s been a naughty girl, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“And how does Carrie intend to make it up to Daddy?”
“By sucking off Mr. 38E.”
I shut my eyes before they can roll back in my head, my knuckles gripping the armrest tightly. I’ve never been sucked off on a plane before, but there’s a first time for everything.
“Good girl, Carrie. Now, you,” he says, reaching over the seat and clapping his hand over my shoulder. “You enjoy your in-flight entertainment.” He pulls me back in my seat, and Carrie begins to work her magic.
She frees my cock from its fabric prison, sliding it up and over the waistband of my sweats. It hangs between us while the scent of sweat, skin, and desire begins to fill the air. Carrie stares at my dick like she’s never seen one before, her eyes flicking between it and my face. She’s practically salivating as she lowers her head and takes me in her warm, welcoming mouth. Her lips wrap around my shaft, and I swear that I can see God.
Carrie makes quick work of my shaft while her soft, small hand toys with my aching balls. Her fingers manipulate me, and electric shivers roll down my spine. I grasp the armrest so tight, I’m afraid it’s going to crumble under my fingers when she swallows my length. I feel the back of her throat as she holds herself in place. Long, thin, glossy strands of saliva coat my cock as she pulls away, her eyes trailing up my chest.
“Tell her what you like. She takes dick…tation so well,” the man behind me whispers suggestively. “I’m going to watch my little girl suck you off, while I finger her sister.” The other woman moans softly, cursing under her breath. I turn my head to see the man with his large, meaty hand buried knuckle deep in her snatch. Just before her eyes roll back in her head, she locks onto me and winks. She tilts her head back and her legs wobble as the man works his fingers inside her dripping pussy.
My head jerks back to Carrie when she slurps my cock down her throat once more. She looks up at me, blinking her big doe eyes and licking her pink lips as she withdraws. The blood leaves my brain, and a sharp ringing sound echoes through my skull. She slobbers on the tip, and it’s all I can do not to cry out. The last thing we want is to attract attention from the flight crew.
“Tell me what to do,” she begs. Her left hand works my shaft, pumping steadily as she dribbles a trail of spit over her fingers. I let out a shuddering gasp as she squeezes my tip, drawing out tiny droplets of pre-cum. Her right hand grips my thigh, nails digging into the gray fabric. I steal a furtive glance around the cabin.
No one knows what’s going on in the back rows, and if they do? They don’t care. They’re all wrapped up in their own bubbles that they don’t hear the tiny moans of pleasure from Carrie. Every time her lips wrap around me, she whimpers, playing it up for my benefit and the man behind us. I hear him mutter his approval, telling Carrie what a good girl she is and how he’ll reward her later. I’m too engaged in the sensations of Carrie slurping my cock and fondling my balls to ponder what that reward might be.
“Tell me, mister,” she pleads. Her wide brown eyes peer up at me intensely. She squeezes my cock in her fist and my eyes nearly cross. I pant and curse, biting my tongue when she does it again. “I need to hear you say it. Tell me how to make you cum.”
“Li-lick it off. Hold it on your tongue, let me see it,” I command. I fist my fingers through her silky blonde locks, pulling her face up while she does what she’s told. Her bubblegum pink tongue is slick with spit and pre-cum, dripping down her chin.
“Like this?”
“Spit on it. Pump my cock like you mean it.”
“Yes, sir.” Carrie renews her efforts, spitting and jerking like her life depends on it. From behind us, the slick wet rhythm picks up the pace, and the other woman whimpers. The sound awakens something in me, and I begin to rock my hips into Carrie’s hand. She gasps with delight.
“Give it to me, sir. Give me all your cum, I want it all!”
I tighten my fist in her hair and shove her face down my length. She gags, silvery spit dripping down the side as I pull her up for a breath. She glances up at me and nods, winking. I thrust into her mouth over and over, hearing the moans from the woman behind us spurring me on. Carrie groans, and her hand tightens around the base of my shaft. The vein on the underside of my cock begins to throb, and we both know it spells trouble.
“Do it.” The man behind me grips my shoulder. He continues fingering the girl he called Carrie’s sister, the hot, wet, sloshing sound growing faster and faster until it reaches a fever pitch. Carrie squeezes the base of my cock and flicks her tongue over the swollen tip, lapping up the last drops of pre-cum before I explode. “Do it, my boy. She craves the taste of cum. She’s an insatiable little slut. Aren’t you, Carrie?”
“Mhm,” she moans. Carrie slurps up the side of my dick and wraps her lips around the head.
“Do it,” the other woman whimpers, and I know she’s close, too. I shut my eyes, tighten my grip once more, and slam my hips into Carrie’s warm, waiting mouth.
It’s a climax unlike any other. The woman behind me comes undone, mewling as she peaks. I shoot hot ropes of excitement down the back of Carrie’s throat, groaning as I release all I’ve been holding back. Stars explode behind my eyelids, and my heart pounds. My head hits the back of the chair, and my eyes screw shut as ragged, jagged breaths rip through my chest. The man gripping my shoulder relaxes his tight hold and flops back into his seat.
“Did I make it up to you?” Carrie sits up, wiping her mouth demurely.
“And more.”
“Good.” She tucks my cock neatly back into my pants and slips from my row wordlessly. Her sister lowers her shaking legs, and Carrie crawls over her to take her seat, giggling as she sits. The man in the middle chuckles as the seatbelt light turns on overhead.
“Good girl, Carrie.”
“Thank you, Daddy.”
The last thing I hear before the plane begins to descend is the steward’s approaching footsteps, telling us to stow our trays and sit upright. By the time the plane lands, I’ve recovered enough to find my words.
“That was…” I begin, cut off by a wave of the older man’s meaty hand. I can smell the sex practically dripping from his fingers.
“Think nothing of it, my boy. I hope we didn’t make too much of a nuisance of ourselves.”
“Nuisance? Hell, no. This is the best flight I’ve ever been on!”
“Good, my boy, good.” He pats me on the shoulder as they make their way down the aisle. I catch the last fragment of a hushed exchange between Carrie and her sister, giggling as they stare at me with wide eyes.
“How was it? Was it better than Daddy’s?”
“Nothing is better than Daddy’s red-eye gravy. Not even his.”
