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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
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type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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Private Flight
by this guy (thisguy.1066@gmail.com)
***
A man takes a trip on a private plane and gets to
enjoy the stewardess. (MF, tease)
***
Not long ago I had gotten a job working in public
relations for a mining company... a Russian mining
company. I guess they figured that, as an American, I
would be better prepared to deal with the western
press... Ultimately, though, after six months of
being unemployed I was happy to have a job.
I spent the first two weeks of my employment at the
company's offices in Saint Petersburg learning about
the company's various operations, meeting the senior
management, learning the language of mining, and what
not.
Then, I was informed that all new hires were expected
to physically go see one of the company's mines; to
see how the work of mining was done. Having always
been in the white collar world, I can't say I was all
that thrilled by the idea of taking a tour of an
operating coal mine in the Urals; but if that was
something I was going to have t do to continue
getting a paycheck I was going to do it.
Sadly it took me two days to learn that I was waiting
to be flown out to the mine because another new hire,
an accountant, was going to be on the same tour as
me. He had to finish his company orientation first:
leaving me a couple more days until the flight.
Secure in that knowledge, I asked if I had to just
sit in the office doing nothing: I was informed that
since I wasn't actually doing any work, I should
consider the two days as a pause in my working
calendar.
So, during the Wednesday and Thursday of that week I
wandered around Saint Petersburg. I saw quite a few
sights: the Winter Palace, the Admiralty building,
Pavlovsk Park, and the house Vladimir Nabokov (the
author of the book "Lolita") grew up in. I ate at a
number of restaurants, had drinks in a few bars, even
went to a nightclub and danced with a few incredibly
beautiful women...
On Friday I went to the company's office. I was
supposed to be taken from there to the airport with
the accountant for our flight out to the mine, but it
turned out that he was a bit of a klutz and had
managed to break his leg the previous day by falling
down a flight of stairs. So I was going to be touring
the coal mine alone...
After a decidedly uneventful ride to the airport, I
headed out to the tarmac. I climbed through the door
at the tail of the company's plane, an old Soviet
built twin-engine prop (which looked strikingly
similar to a C-47).
The interior of the plane was... well, it looked like
the typical private / corporate jet: a leather couch,
swiveling leather club-chairs, a beautiful wood
dining table... certainly not the sort of vehicle I
was used to travelling in. I had barely sat down in
one of the club-chairs when the engines roared to
life... a moment later the plane was rolling... then
airborne.
I was alone in the cabin, the only sound was the hum
(quiet rumble is probably a better way describe it)
of the engines. I was going to have plenty of "quiet"
time to read through the file that I had been given
with explained the process of mining coal. Having
grown up in West Virginia I had a pretty good idea
how coal mining worked: so all I really needed to do
was look over the papers in the file to "re-acquaint"
myself with the process.
Sitting the file down on the table next to me, I knew
all I really had to do was take the tour, listen to
whatever my tour-guide had to say, and not do or say
anything stupid: easy...
Looking up I realized I was, in fact, not the only
person in the cabin. Standing a few feet in front of
me was a stunningly beautiful woman. She had the
slender/vertical body of a runway model; was easily
six-feet tall, with nearly shoulder-length straight
blonde hair, very fair skin, green eyes... truly
stunning! But what she was wearing was astounding: a
scarf of bright red lace was tied (like a neck-tie)
somewhat loosely around her long slender neck.
Wrapped tightly around her "A" cup breasts was a
fairly conventionally shaped layered lace (the
outside layer was bright red and each successive
layer was slightly darker) bra; hanging from her
narrow hips was a matching (the same material and
color) pair of bikini-style panties (which looked
more like a bikini bottom, than panties: the waist-
band tied in a bow on each side); and on her feet, a
pair of bright red patent leather pumps with very
high (at least four-inch) stiletto heels. Just seeing
the physical beauty of her body, coupled with what
she was wearing gave me an instant hard-on.
"Ha-lo, my name is Annastascya, can I get you eny-
thing? ... food, drink... coffee, tea... eny-thing at
all?" she said in English, her Russian accent was
unmistakable, yet her grammar was far better than
that of most of the women who professed to speaking
English.
While I wasn't hungry or thirsty, I was most
definitely attracted to her. "No I'm fine," I
answered, "sit down, take a load off." I offered,
waving my hand in the direction of the club-chair on
the far side of the little table. Bowing her head
slightly and giving me a very subtle smile (as if to
say thank you), she turned and promptly sat on my
lap. "Oh my... " was all I could think, particularly
when I glanced down to see one of the bow-knots of
her "bottoms" was pressed against the hard-on that
was straining against the fabric of my shorts.
Annastascya was ignoring my hard-on, so I tried to do
the same as I introduced myself. We quickly began
talking about various things... home, family, work...
I learned that she was 22, had grown-up in a little
town east of the Urals in Siberia, had a brother and
two sisters, liked cats... our conversation almost
seemed that of a first date... so much so that I had
completely forgotten about my hard-on.
As she was telling me her favorite color was red the
plane hit turbulence. She put her left arm around my
neck grabbing my shoulder as she nearly fell off my
lap. In the same instant, I grabbed her: my right
hand on her waist, my left hand on her slender thigh,
a few inches above the knee.
The turbulence continued for some time as we held on
to each other tightly, pressing the bare skin of her
hip hard against my now completely obvious hard-on.
She looked down, gave be a naughty grin and said,
"You know, I am not just flight serv-ess (she
obviously meant 'flight attendant'), I am also flight
entert-tainment..."
'Wow, an in-flight hooker,' I thought for an instant,
before my mind reverted to its normal 'real world'
state: she probably sang, or played an instrument, or
something along those lines. "...when turbulence
stop, dance?" she continued, as she reached down and
pulled her shoes off with her right hand. I wasn't
sure what she meant by "dance": did she mean we would
dance together? ... or would she perform some
traditional Russian folk dance?... or, well...
whatever.
A full twenty minutes after the turbulence had begun
they ended. Letting go of my shoulder, Annastascya
tried to get up off my lap; except I was still
holding her waist and thigh... Looking at me she
said, "You need let go, so I get up," feeling quite
embarrassed, I quickly released my grip on her
incredible body.
She stood, then walked across the cabin, and put on
music: it had a strong beat, but beyond that I
couldn't place it and would be hard pressed to
describe it. I was admiring the spectacular view I
had of the back of her body: the gentle "v"-shaped
silhouette descending down her ribcage from her
shoulders to her thin waist, the curved flare of her
narrow hips, the long elegant curves of her slender
legs...
By the time my gaze had reached her ankles,
Annastascya was turning around. She had the thinnest
ankles I had ever seen on an adult. Then her feet
came into view, they were just as beautiful as the
rest of her: long slender toes, with neatly trimmed
nails coated in bright red nail-polish that appeared
to match her shoes; fairly high, delicate looking
arches; not a hint of callous or dry skin... If I had
a foot fetish I probably would have blown my load in
my pants right then and there.
Smiling at me she began gently rolling her hips side
to side with the music. With each beat of the music
she rolled her hips just a little bit further. Pretty
soon her hips were moving through an area at least
three-feet wide... she began swinging her arms...
I was fairly certain she was doing some sort of folk-
dance: the sort of dance that is completely non-
erotic when done in normal clothing. Except she
wasn't wearing normal clothing: I could feel my dick
beginning to throb in my pants... A moment later the
song ended, giving me another smile she asked, "You
like?"
My mouth was dry, "Yeah," was about all I could
respond.
Offering her hand to me Annastascya replied, "Then
you dance with."
As I stood I replied, "I don't think I can move like
that... "
"Course you can, I teach," she said with a smile,
before stepping behind me. As the next song started
she put her hands on my hips and began moving my body
(and her own) side to side with the beat of the
music. After thirty seconds or so she moved her hands
off my hips... somehow I managed to continue the
motion, "good. Now we dance proper."
She stepped around me. Facing me now she took my
hands and put them on her hips. She placed her own
hands on my hips as we continued to move back and
forth with the beat of the music.
We'd been dancing like that for a few minutes when
the plane was again shaken by turbulence.
Unfortunately this time we were both standing: the
turbulence sent us careening across the cabin.
Annastascya landed on the leather couch on her
back... I ended up on top of her. The realization
that I was laying on top of this incredibly beautiful
woman brought my hard-on back to full swing.
The plane continued shaking, causing a certain amount
of friction me and Annastascya's nearly nude body.
'Oh god," I felt my butt-cheeks tighten in my
shorts...I was about to have an orgasm. Half a second
later my balls drew up under my rigid dick.
By this point I knew there was no stopping my orgasm:
so I let it happen. The cum began surging up the
little tube on the underside of my prick. First one,
then another, and another: my hot, thick, sperm-
laden, creamy, cum spewed out of the little hole on
the end of my dick; shooting all over the inside of
my shorts.
Once my orgasm finally subsided, giving me a little
grin, and trying to suppress laughter, Annastascya
spoke up, "you need girlfriend... "
"Yeah. Yeah I do," I confessed with a depressed
snort.
After pause that lasted for a few seconds she
offered, "I be your girlfriend?"
"Sure," I heard my voice say. A part of me wondered
what I was thinking, but Annastascya a decent enough
person, not to mention incredibly beautiful... so how
could I have said anything else...
"Good." Annastascya smiled at me, as the plane
stopped shaking. Thankfully we had made it through
the turbulence.
Climbing off her, I asked if there was someplace I
could change my shorts. Boldly she began undoing them
right there in the cabin saying, "I take care of it
for you." Soon my shorts were around my ankles...
Once I had stepped free of them Annastascya got up
off the leather couch, went over to my bag, got a
fresh pair of shorts for me, and proceeded to wash
the "soiled" pair of shorts I had been wearing in the
little sink in the "galley."
'Wow, this girl is amazing..." was all I could think
as I put on the fresh pair of shorts before sitting
back down in the club chair and returning to the file
about the mine.
Shortly before we landed, Annastascya put the mostly
dry now clean pair of shorts I had accidentally
soiled in my bag.
As I was getting off the plane she said, "I take care
of you on return trip..." I couldn't believe my ears:
she was actually offering to have sex with me BEFORE
we'd gone on a single date!
END
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than a
trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 81