I got up pretty early to start my journey to New York, 3 a.m. to be precise. I had to fly out of SeaTac at 6:00 pm and didn’t want to test the system by cutting it too close. I was packed and ready by 10 the night before and put myself into bed, struggling against adrenaline surges to get to sleep. I’d loaded my new iPhone with contact information for Diva, BadBadGirl and Natt Nightly, as well as the addresses of Fontana’s (where the NY Sex Blogger’s Calendar Party was to be held) and the location where the Hypergender Burlesque performed. I was as ready as I could be for this adventure. And even with all that preparation, I knew that when I saw her for the first time in the airport, I’d be momentarily speechless. No amount of forethought or preparation was enough to prevent me from being a crushed-out, smitten fool at the sight of her.
The alarm went off and instead of hitting snooze three times, I was up and out of bed after just a moment of savoring the day ahead. I showered, fed myself, and said goodbyes to my sleeping family within 30 minutes. The freeway was dark and cool and populated with a mix of people commuting to early shifts and those heading home after bar closing. Seemed I had nothing to worry about with regard to sleepiness at the wheel, I was wide awake and sporting a huge grin. I thought about Roxy and her smile and the way it would feel to hold her against me. Surges of feeling made my heart pound.
Apparently, Roxy wasn’t sleeping much either, she texted me at 3:30, knowing I’d be on the road by then. Her message put a huge goofy grin on my face.
The drive went quickly, my mind racing ahead to the airport. I left my car at long term parking, caught the shuttle and was soon approaching the Virgin counter. With nothing to check, I was soon on my way to security with the friendly Virgin guy’s well wishes ringing in my ears. Security was actually pretty busy that morning, but I got through it, playing with my iPhone and texting Roxy to stay occupied (i.e., keep from climbing the walls with impatience).
Before shutting my phone down, I took a picture of my happily grinning face, shaded Virgin purple and sent it to her. I dozed a little on the flight from Seattle to San Francisco, listening to a playlist I’d made for Roxy.
Once we were taxiing on the runway, I texted her and we went back and forth until I was finally able to disembark. The texts reveal our extreme happiness and impatience to see each other:
me: “On the ground… I love you”
her: " :) waiting..."
me: "My lips want yours love"
her: ":-D yay! Come out, come out..."
me: "I know!"
Finally, I was walking out of the plane and toward my lover, holding back enough to avoid running over people in my haste to get to her.
My first glance of her was through the crowd ahead of me, but I caught her eye and saw her smile widen. Then she was in front of me, and our arms were around each other and her lips were on mine. I have vague memories off the people around us, people waiting for their flights or heading away from the gate. Our flight to New York was departing from this gate, and there wasn’t much time, but I was hungry by then. The piece of toast I’d had at 3 a.m. had been burned up by then. A few more kisses and fervent hugs, and Roxy sent me upstairs to find something to eat while she watched over our luggage.
I’ve decided that flying with Roxy is the best way to fly. She doesn’t like flying at all, makes her sick, unhappy, all kinds of wrong. She was so worried about what I would think after seeing her in her miserable condition. Well, she did have some rough times, but it wasn’t nearly as dramatic as what she’d warned me about. And I think she’d agree with me that flying together made it a lot better.
She was excited about inducting me into the Mile High Club. Given my anatomy and easy arousal, we didn’t even need to get out of our seats. She brought a blanket, giving us a privacy shield (though any discerning person could have figured out what was going on). Roxy was in the window seat, me in the middle and an older woman on the aisle. She seemed very prim and proper and I’m sure we scandalized her just with our kissing and giggling, much less the fact that we had sex right there beside her.
This is where I sing the praises of the female body. No need to even unzip or unbutton, a couple of very knowledgeable fingers and some well timed heavy breathing in my ear and I was struggling to maintain a neutral expression and keep myself from shouting. I stared into her eyes, until mine closed and she kept whispering to me “quiet now.. you’re breathing hard…” in that infuriating way all the while working my clit harder and faster against the button fly of my jeans.
Then I got her back .. heh heh heh.. and I didn’t stay on the outside of her clothing, oh no. She was wearing a skirt — special favor to me, thank you, lover — so I got under the skirt and under her thong and right up against her hot, slippery, wonderful pussy. God, her eyes were priceless, growing wide with passion and fear of discovery, then rolling back as she climaxed. I increased the grip of my arm around her shoulder, knowing she couldn’t control the spasms, holding her until she came back into herself again.
And yes, we did that more than once, but it wasn’t all we did. For a while we were listening to music on my iPod while watching TV together. We were on Virgin America, by far the best way to travel any distance through the air. As I recall we watched several episodes of Law & Order before segueing into CSI, I think. We were goofy, had fun, made faces and gave kisses and, quite often, forgot where we were. I massaged her Roxy really has a hard time flying and it was nice to be there with a hand for her to hold.
We touched down in New York City sometime around 6 pm Thursday, November 6th. I’d reserved a car service for us, so we gathered her very heavy luggage — containing the tools of her kinky trade — and ventured out into the chill to wait for our ride. It took longer than I’d hoped, but we found ways to stay warm and occupy ourselves. We were especially entertained/intimidated by an airport worker striving to keep the curb clear of parked cars and fair-seeking taxis. She was fierce and we were happy to be well out of her way.
When our car did arrive we met Elena, a delightful woman who immigrated from Spain many years ago and was a very proud promoter of New York City. She chatted, identified landmarks and told us which neighborhoods were the new hip happening ones, which were best for families and which were still a bit sketchy.
It was a great relief to finally arrive at the Hotel Le J0lie. At that point I was having trouble calculating how many hours I’d been awake, was hungry and tired and craving the sweet taste of my lover. I’d been going and going for miles and hours and the day was not nearly over. We slipped into our room, giggling, sighing and above all, touching.. finally, without censor or unwilling witnesses, it was time to take some of the edge off.
It had been 5 months.
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