“Did I hurt you?” His concern worries me because suddenly he stops and looks at me with horror on his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ...”
“I’m fine,” I interrupt him, “in fact I’m great, it’s just this is a lot. You are ... wow, big. And ...” another tear drips down my cheek.
“Okay, I get it,” he tells me and kisses me again. “I’ve got this.” He holds me close and slowly rocks into me deeper and deeper as his hand finds my center and the soft bundle of nerves that he’s now driving wild with his fingers.
I climax again with him inside of me and he groans with pleasure. “Ah mon dieu,” he says in ecstasy and soon he’s moving faster, my hips are thrusting up to meet his and we are in a frenzy of movement. I’m chasing another orgasm and he is driving this boat into a storm as we are frantically grinding,humping, and fucking each other all while our tongues tango with zealous excitement.
And then he cries out, I’m in the middle of my third mind-blowing orgasm and Marcel quickly pulls his cock from me. Just before he’s out, I cramp up a little, not used to the sensation and the loss of his warmth. Then, well ... he does his thing with a high-pitched gasp as he comes inside of me. His cock is twitching and jerking and boy is he delivering a pretty mighty load as he breathes through it, his hips bucking and quaking as he does.
“Oh, holy fuck,” he says as he flops down beside me.
“Wow,” is all I can muster.
He rolls over to me and stares into my eyes.
“How are you? Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough? Are you in pain?”
Wow again, so many questions, too many for my overwhelmed mind to process.
“I’m good,” I’m able to eek out. “Thank you,” I add because, yeah, being polite is good right?
He swirls his fingers around my tit and I’m not sure where he’s going with this. My head is kind of all over the place. I’m just about to ask him what’s next and there’s a knock at the door and I nearly jump out of my skin. I look over at the monitor on the wall at the end of the bed and the flight says it still has an hour and forty-five minutes left. Maybe I’m not supposed to be in here with him? Regardless, I freak out and get up, but his hand stops me.
“Mr. Dubois,” a male attendant says. “I’m sorry to disturb you but the captain has ordered that everyone sit in their seats. We’re heading into a pretty big storm. Please hurry as the seatbelt sign has already been turned on.” He then moves on and knocks on the next door.
“What does that mean?” I ask as he lets me get up and I go to the bathroom to find my clothes in a neat pile.
He slips on his lounge pants and I put my airplane issue PJ top on with my jeans and my hoodie. I’m not looking great I notice as I stare at my well-fucked hair in the mirror. It sounds like we might be in the middle of an emergency. Marcel is dressed and out of the suite in minutes, grabbing two water bottles and handing me one.
“Drink it at your seat,” he instructs.
I follow him down the stairs and we are back to being seatmates again.
I don’t really have the bandwidth to dissect the fact that this guy just took my virginity a million miles up in the air, because apparently we are all gonna die. At least that seems to be the sentiment when we return to our seats. I notice that my chair is no longer in bed mode and we are ushered into our places as the plane starts to pitch and dip. Fuck ... this might be it. At least I got boned before the big finale, that’s good right? I still feel Marcel in me, because everything is sore and achy, and just a little damp down there. It’s a kind of gross and comforting and I’m not quite sure how to feel about it.
But right now, I’m a little more panicky about the prospect of dying. I buckle into my seat and start crying like an idiot. At least I’m not really sobbing, just sniffling.
Marcel reaches over and takes my hand. “Everything is fine. Planes fly in bad weather all the time.”
And we bottom out.
He squeezes my hand a little tighter. That helps, I tell myself it helps, but really I need to just sit and cry. And a hug, I could use a hug. For him, I’m just one of many women he’s had sex with, and some of them may have had their big moment with him on a plane. But for me he is my first and now the plane is driving like a drunk pigeon.
“Okay,” I whisper and he opens my water.
“You have to drink a little of this.” He brings it up to my lips like I’m a child.
“I can do it,” I complain a little too intensely.
“Of course you can,” he says quietly, “but at the moment you’re thinking you’re one of many women I’ve had sex with and just threw away.”
I take the bottle from him and cry a little more because he’s not wrong.
“It’s okay, I’m a grown up. I know what I was getting into,” I say dismissively and the plane swerves again.
I legitimately feel like I’m going to be sick.
“Everyone please buckle up and prepare for landing. Flight crew stay in your seats, no final sweep.”
