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The harrowing march to Beshenna begins.

"Hi, Liz, I'm John and this is Suzanne," I introduced ourselves. Liz's eyes never left yours as she nodded pleasantly, her lips slightly parting in a knowing Cheshire-cat grin. My cock got hard as I again watched Liz's obvious enchantment of your wares.

"Actually, might we bother you for a blanket?"

Liz shook her head in mock sorrow, clucking her long tongue disappointingly as it snaked from her mouth. She peered towards the front of the plane as the other 'stewies' went through their pre-flight instructions, reminding any passengers who hadn't successfully navigated the intricate nuances of a seat belt in the last forty years how to strap themselves securely to their seat.

"Uh, folks," Liz began slowly, the unmistakable hint of a southern accent oozing from her smoky lips. "Ah don't think that will be necessary, ah'll be your lookout, ah'll stand guard if you want to cuddle up and play."

She winked as she returned to her rear seat as the plane taxied down the jetway. "But don't start without me. Ah like to watch. Ah'll be back, K?"

Ten minutes later, the plane wasn't the only thing to have reached maximum altitude as you began to more fervently stroke my turgid manhood through my tan suit pants, my dick having risen in tandem with the ascent of the Boeing 737. Your self-described 'lips made for cock-sucking' danced over the sensitive nape of my neck, evoking goose bumps and a Pavlovian-dog involuntary response in my loins as the first drop of pre-cum dripped from my slit and eased onto the lap of my trousers. Yep, I was commando, I'd packed light for our trip.

Just then, we heard Liz's voice over our shoulders. She was looking down at our brazen display. "Oopsie, looks like we have a spill," she said mournfully, her eyes drooping like a puppy dog's.

She reached over my seatback and handed you a small gift as she uncurled her palm. "Here, Suzanne, darlin', maybe you can wipe him up with this."

We both gazed open-jawed at the impromptu absorbent. It was the sheerest of ivory lace thong, curled up in a snug ball.

You licked your lips and caressed the tiny lace garment between your fingers, and you squirmed in your seat and licked your own lips. "Thank you, Liz. But they are aleady quite wet. You must have had a spill yourself, maybe, hmmm?"

Liz's eyes glazed over as if her thoughts were far away, but her eyes were riveted on your hand as you began to stroke my impossibly rigid cock with the thong. "Mmm, hmm," she cooed. "Ah get so clumsy sometimes, you just never know when you might hit a bump or somethin' on these flights. That's why it's always good to dress flexibly. Don't ya agree, Suzy?"

She then disappeared back into her cabin for the refreshment cart, and I made use of the five minutes she was gone to raise your own hips and peel your own saturated thong from your hips. I handed Liz her own present when she made her way back down the aisle, and gestured with a nod of my head to your lap, which now revealed your gleaming, soaking, gloriously shaved pussy, pulsating between widely-spread legs as I gently and lovingly parted your labia with my ring and index fingers.

The engorged hood of your pearl beneath your feminine oyster peeked curiously through the folds of your outer lips, inquiring as to the possibility of further release. Your right hand joined mine to meet in a digital tag-team match of your pussy, your finger lingering over the top of your sensitive and responsive clit, while your left hand tugged at my zipper and extracted my purple cockhead.

"My, my, and ah thought there were to be no snacks on this flight, guess ah was wrong," Liz chortled soflty. "Why don't you take a sip of that big, ol' straw you got there, Suzy? Ah'll make sure you don't choke."

With that, your head plunged down to take my throbbing shaft deep and urgently into your expert mouth, soft moans emitting from your throat as you swallowed and gulped and sucked.

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