After the flight

A fun little fantasy between strangers. Male dominant, female brat

He didn't really even need to "go," it's just that, sometimes, you need to get up to stretch your legs. On the trip back from the bathroom, she stood, directly between him & his seat. What caught him was her eyes. If you saw those eyes, they'd need no explanation. The capture. They captivate. Full of mischief and lust and beauty and, well, there is no other way to describe it, but challenge.

He looked down the aisle, trying to see if there's a way to return to his seat, heading around, but there's no other path . . . and the curse of the airplane aisle was upon him. With Tyler Durden whispering in his ear, he gave her the crotch, as she gave him the ass. Rather than give him as much room as possible, though, she pressed her body back against his as soon as they made contact, looking back over her shoulder, mischief twinkling in her eyes. His cock surged.

With a tremble of turbulence, they separated, and he returned to his seat. And through the remainder of the flight, while he looked for her, she was nowhere to be found.

Even after the plane landed, he simply couldn't find her in the parade of flight attendants saying "goodbye." He went to the baggage carousel and she slipped from his mind, until he, standing on the taxi line, saw her out of the corner of his eye.

"Gotta try," he whispered to himself as he left the growing line and caught up with her.

"You up for a bite to eat?" he asks.
"I'm not hungry," she replies, biting on her index finger, looking back at him.
"How about to the hotel?" he asks, far more forward than he had ever been.
"Your place or mine?"

And they drove, in her car, to his hotel.

After check-in, they entered the hotel room, and she flung herself onto him as soon as the door was shut. Was the door actually shut? Who cares, she was hungry. Her legs around his torso, her arms around his head, his face pointing up, she clung for life as they kissed, with passion, desire, and need.

He walked toward the bed and started to place her down, but as soon as he started to move his hands toward her shoulders, they somehow ended up over her breasts. Squeezing through the blouse & bra, his kissing ferocity intensified. And her hands were soon on top of his, pulling them off.

Confused, he let go. She slid off of his body onto the bed, keeping eye contact. "Earn it. Claim me," she whispered, hungrily & breathless. Her eyes never broke contact with his. That challenging look still there - growing fiercer with every heave of her chest.

He pauses, blinks, and pounces.

Their bodies become one as they wrestle on the bed. Arms flail about. Her hair whipped to & fro. Bodies grind into each other. When he thinks he has the upper hand, with her arms pinned to the bed, he starts kissing her, biting her lip, making her moan. Yet, once he relaxes the grip on her hands, the wrestling match begins again. They bump heads, they grunt. A rip is heard, and suddenly her shoulder is bare. Buttons had flown.. And before long, he's on the mattress, on his knees, holding her in a bear hug, her back to him, her arms pinned to her side. She writhes and tries to break from his grip, but it's futile. He has her.

And then he bites her neck with a series of little nibbles. She wriggles, trying to break free, but he makes corrections in just the nick of time to prevent her from getting away. She moans and places both feet firmly on the mattress, trying to stand, but he presses forward and the two collapse together.

With his weight pressing down on her, he releases her. She fights to break free, flipping onto her back, but as she goes to sit up, their eyes meet. This time, it's not him who is fascinated by the gaze, but her. She sits, staring into his gaze, a deer caught in headlights. Her breathing, still haggard, quickens. Her mouth opens just the slightest bit. Her chest heaves as she places both hands down on the bed, transfixed by his stare.

Not blinking, and barely breathing, he unfastens his belt and takes it off.

"Your hands" he whispers, barely audible, and she gives a little shriek, like that of the shy little girl who had just been asked to read in front of the class. Holding her hands out of her, she finally looks down. He weaves his belt between her wrists, binding them together, and then he walks to a bedpost, forcing her onto her back, securing the belt to the bed.

Kneeling between her legs, he unzips the zipper at the side of her skirt. And then, barely audible, the words "look at me" are whispered. When their eyes meet, she's, again, transfixed. With both hands, he tugs. Her skirt, her underwear, her pantyhose come down. And for what might be the first time in her life, she doesn't give a second thought to the possibility of a run in the stockings.

Her breathing slows, her chest heaving with each breath as he plays a game of tug of war with the hose and her toes. And then she's nude from the waist down. She places her feet flat on the mattress, thighs wide apart, giving him a full view, yet his eyes continue their gaze into hers. Her need can be read on her face - she needs to be touched. She needs to be used. She needs to be taken. And he needs to do it.

The tease, as he looks into her eyes and only into her eyes continues for impossibly long seconds, until she could no longer suppress a whimper with each exhale. And as her hips sat in the air, grinding against the cool air from the air conditioner, he finally allows the hint of a smile to reach his lips before breaking eye contact & soaking her body in.

Her blouse is ripped, the top buttons, simply, gone. Her bra strap sits folded over her shoulder, wriggling with each deep breath. Tracing his gaze further south, he notices a steady trickle of juice emerging from her sex. And then, he, again, looks back into her eyes.

Her whimpers seem to be begging, "Please"

"Please"

"Please"

"Please" with each exhale. And in a flash, he's on his knees, his tongue out, licking all about her labia.

She writhes as he teases her with his tongue. She thrusts her hips high into the air, trying to make contact with his face, but he, not facing the handicap of being bound, is simply too nimble. Her inner thigh, her outer lips - little licks, nothing close to satisfying, as she moans, audibly, trying to introduce her pussy to his chin.

And then she feels his fingers. With her eyes closed, his left hand pinches her nipple, through the bra. She gasps while nearly doing a full bridge as he continues his darting assault on her sex. When she collapses to the bed, her core exhausted from thrusting herself at him, he finally makes contact with her clit.

Two fingers push deep inside her as he presses tongue against *that* button. Licks don't quite describe what he's doing - he's pushing his tongue against her, as hard as he can muster, moving impossibly slowly, keeping contact for as long as possible. After a minute, she starts trying to pull herself away, gasping, gyrating. He continues to press his face into her sex, the fingers of his right hand heading into and out of her, curving up at the last moment before retreating, then pressing right back in.

And then her feet give way from under her. Her body collapses to the bed and he starts long, steady licks against her clit, those two fingers of his right hand pressed all of the way into her, her right nipple in a death grip between his thumb & forefinger. She squeaks. A tear escapes one of her eyes. Her feet try to find a way to press her hips back into the air, but they flail against the edge of the bed.

"Holy fuck," she yells as he presses his tongue harder against his clit, applying steady pressure, pushing his fingers as far as he can into her, pulsing his fingertips, and his fingers pinching, impossibly tight, on her nipple.

Seconds, minutes, hours, days later, her body stops shuddering. Because, really, does time even exist at the height?

As her breathing slows, the flush slowly retreating from her cheeks, the little beads of sweat dripping down her brow, and chest, another tremor hits as he wiggles his fingers inside of her, before he releases the grip on her nipple.

She squeaks, again, with the sudden sensation - a different, more intense pain, though quickly dissipating, than the pain from when he had it in his fingers.

Ever so slowly, he lets his fingers pull out from her inner recesses, a *slurp* noise coming as he finally pulls them free. Then, ever so gently, he eases the pressure from his tongue, noticing a billion little shivers before he was, finally, not making any pressure.

Again, they made eye contact, his erection straining against his pants. He, apparently, "packed right," and she licked her lips when she allowed her eyes to work their way down his body.

Button by button, he takes off his dress shirt, somehow appearing to keep his cool (though she couldn't see his hands shaking). 9 buttons, carefully unbuttoned, before he pushes the dress shirt over his shoulders. Her eyes break from his and wander down his torso, and with that, her legs find their way back to the edge of the bed, spreading herself yet again.

She licks her lips.

Carefully, he walks over to the closet, pulling out a hanger and hanging up the shirt before looking back to her.

And then, standing tall, looking directly at her, he unbuttons his pants and unzips his fly. With the slightest bit of encouragement, the pants fall to the ground, showing his erection testing the elastic of his boxers. Carefully, he steps out of them, and, taking his eyes off of her one more time, places them on the hanger.

Turning back to her, he pulls his boxers down, leaving his cock pointing straight out, directly at her. Her gaze is focused on his member as she grips the belt around her wrists and he walks to the bed, kneeling between her legs, looking at her face, needing to see her eyes once again.

And as soon as eye contact is made, he breaks it and lightly blows on her glistening sex. In response, she throws her legs together and closes her eyes, pulling her knees up to her chest before looking back at him.

"I . . . . I'm sorry, I just . . . fuck, baby."

"What?"

"I just need a minute. Only a minute. Untie me, let me repay the favor."

"Favor? You think that was a favor?"

Silence fills the air as his desire mounts.

"I'm taking."

And with that, he grabs her ankles separating her legs and thrusts himself between her. She wraps her legs around him as he slams himself into her, time and time again. While she may have thought she needed a break, the sounds she was making called her a liar. She shrieks, gasps, moans, and speaks in tongues unknown to only those in the throes of pleasure. He grunts, his hips moving like a piston, into her and out, his hands supporting her ass, helping to keep her in the air.

And then he releases her and she falls to the bed. For just the briefest of moments, he falls from inside of her. In a blink, though, then he is again, his entire body weight on her as he resumes thrusting into her. Her hands fight against the belt, trying to break free. Unconsciously, she's trying to wrap her arms around him, or dig her fingernails into his back, or do anything to bring him even closer to her.

He presses against the bed, lifting his upper body, and grabs a hold of what's remaining of her blouse. Grabbing between her breasts, he pulls and the remaining buttons fly across the room. Then he tugs her bra down under her breasts and manhandles the orbs before him, squeezing, fondling, caressing, as he continues to pound into her.

And when her legs wrap around him, her ankles joining as she squeezes him, the urgency of the pounding changes. He thrusts, again and again, slowing, each re-entry growing more violent. His hands move down and wraps his hands around her hips, guiding her for each thrust. She convulses, her legs squeezing with all the force she can muster as his release comes, quick and powerful, and as he ramps down, he sees his seed dripping out of her.

Eventually, when he simply didn't have enough to keep from sliding into her, he slid out of her and looked down, breathless. Their eyes, again, met.

With little touches, just his fingertips, he touched her stomach, her breasts, the outsides of her hips. He traced an index finger down her collarbone, over the ridge of her bra, and circled her belly-button as she watched his face.

And he started to grow hard again.

Quickly, he stood and walked into the bathroom. She heard running water and, when he returned, he worked his way over to the belt securing her, releasing it from the bed. Seconds later he had her wrists free. She took her hands, flexed them and then grabbed the cock before her, placing it (tasting of sweat, and cum, and herself) in her mouth when he picked her up as if she were a rag doll. With a *slurp*, his member fell out, and she reached for it with her hands, like a kid reaching for a balloon that had broken away & was beyond reach.

He sat on the bed with her, face down, over his lap, and she immediately started to try to fight to get to her feet when the first blow landed on her ass.

She was strong, looking to squirm away, looking to get away, but once she started fighting in earnest, he had both of his hands at his disposal. Before long, her left wrist was held against her back at an awkward angle, and she succumbed, her right hand lying loosely at her re-focused on spanking her.

Two spankings in, the heat started.

With the fifth spanking, her ass started to turn red.

With the eighth spanking, his own hand started to sting, and he started tracing his fingers along her ass, the back of her thighs, and, every now & then, along her slit.

His left hand still holding her still, the number soon grew to twenty, and she was pressing her hips into his lap with each blow, and trying to keep his fingertips in contact with her sit-upon with each teasing little interlude.

And with each interlude, he spent more & more time with her pussy.

And after twenty spankings, he let go of the hand behind her back. She lay limp over his lap as he continued touching and playing with her inflamed skin.

With his thumb and ring-finger, he opened her lips once again, pressing his index & middle fingers inside her. If possible, she was just as wet as when he was fucking her. Slowly, he pumped his fingers into her, and she lay there, simply soaking in the motion.

And just like that, he withdrew his fingers. A quick tap on the butt and "let's take a bath" and she stood.

As she walked toward the bathroom, he took her by the hips, spun her around, placed his hands under her butt cheeks and lifted her. Pressing her against the wall, they kissed, her limbs once again, wrapping around his middle and his head.

Time passed.

The tub started to overflow.

They did not care.