Fear of flying

I board the plane, and find myself in the window seat. To my delight, a beautiful young woman seats herself next to me, in the middle seat. Next to her, a young man with all the characteristics of a computer nerd, puts on his headphones and turns to his personal version of the Matrix. Her eyes are deep, mysterious and smiling, and her lips are beyond description. Yet she sits uneasily, and looks around and through the window. I ask her if she's OK, and she tells me she's so afraid of flying. It's true, I see her unease. In order to distract her, I start a conversation - work, where you live, etc. She goes through the motions, seems grateful for the distraction, but her nervousness obviously remains. Should I dare distract more? I ask her if she maybe wants to hold my hand during take-off, and she gladly accepts. Her hand trembles slightly, and is delightfully sweaty. She locks my hand, and when I squeeze it gently, she squeezes back. Hard. As we lower our voices in our continued conversation, I ask her if she's still very afraid. She nods, frantically. I ask if I can try to really distract her, and tell her to say stop whenever she feels I'm going too far. She nods. My right hand keeps holding her left hand, while my left hand moves gently up her left upper arm to her shoulder. I touch her, and caress her. She sighs, and her trembling changes rhythm. I slowly change position, holding her left hand with my left hand, and start to discover with my right hand access to her bare back under her blouse. She bites her perfect underlip, and ever so gently nods her head in my direction. Our heads move closer, but without touching. My right hand moves gently from her back to her waist, while softly pulling her blouse out of her trousers. I move my hand to her belly, and open her trousers front, so I have moving space. She moves a bit around, obviously aroused and no longer paying attention to the flight, so as to conceal my actions for her other neighbour, and opens her legs ever so slightly. My index finger snuggs under her lace lingerie, and starts to discover the wet and damp folds of her vulva. She sighs as I touch her more, and deeper. I add another finger to the game. She squeezes not only my hand left hand with her left hand, but also my right hand with her legs a bit. Her breathing picks up, and she says "ooh" in the most husk of voices ever experienced.

When we land, we have both completely forgotten how long the flight took.