The Flight Attendant We Shared on Our Honeymoon

Marisol and I, Adrián, had been together long enough to have nearly thrown it all overboard. Our sex life had gone so cold that one day we sat down and talked seriously, without blaming each other, and understood that either we reinvented ourselves or we’d end up being two strangers under the same roof. We never stopped loving each other; that was never the problem. The problem was routine, and we decided to declare war on it.

We started slowly. Role reversals, new toys, fantasies we hadn’t even dared to say out loud before. Everything we tried, we did for each other, to see the other enjoying themselves, and that brought us closer in a way we hadn’t expected. With time, one idea came to hover over both of us: bringing a third person into the game. We talked about it, got turned on talking about it, but the fear that afterwards nothing would ever be the same always held us back.

Because of the birth of our daughter, we had never had a real honeymoon. Now that the girl was old enough to stay a few days with my in-laws, we decided the time had come. We booked ten days in Cancun, on the other side of the world, where absolutely no one knew us.

Before going on, it’s worth telling you what we’re like. I’m forty-four, five foot nine, broad-backed and with strong arms thanks to genetics. I shave my head because I like it and only keep a short beard that I trim every week. I’m no Adonis, but according to Marisol I’m the kind who turns heads. She’s forty-four too, tall, brunette, with long legs and a body she earned the hard way in the gym after becoming a mother. She has huge brown eyes and skin that feels wonderful to explore with your mouth. She’s simply gorgeous.

For the trip I took her shopping. I picked out three tiny swimsuits for her, the kind she would never have worn at home for fear of drawing attention: one bright yellow, one black Brazilian thong, and one white one tied at the sides. In the fitting room, watching her turn in front of the mirror, I ended up rock-hard and trying to hide it. She laughed at me in the mirror, knowing perfectly well what she was causing.

—I’ll only wear them because nobody knows me there —she said, biting her lip.

***

The day of the flight I waited for her at the front door with the suitcases and the tickets in my hand. I yelled for her to hurry up or we’d miss the plane. When she came down the stairs, I was speechless. She was wearing a black top that was little more than an elastic band, a pair of very short denim shorts that showed the start of her ass, and leather sandals laced up to mid-calf. She saw my face and gave me her most mischievous smile.

At the airport, while we waited in the café, Marisol got up to grab a magazine. From a distance she checked that I was following her with my eyes. Then she bent right in front of me, opened her legs more than necessary, let the tips of her fingers slide up her thigh and linger for a moment over her cunt before drawing a circle over her nipples through the fabric. She winked at me. That trip was promising.

When we boarded the plane, I noticed that almost all the passengers were couples, which made sense given the destination. We were given seats near the front, with room to stretch our legs. We took off around 9:30 p.m., ate something light, and when the trays were cleared, Marisol asked for a blanket for both of us. The flight attendant who brought it looked at her with a different kind of sparkle in her eyes, one of those looks that linger for half a second too long.

They dimmed the cabin lights and almost everyone reclined their seats to sleep. Marisol turned toward me under the blanket and, a little later, her right hand slid down to my fly. She popped the button, lowered the zipper, and freed my cock with a skill only years can give. The flight attendant walked by from time to time in the aisle and threw us a glance now and then, but she said nothing.

Once she had me good and hard, Marisol smiled and disappeared beneath the blanket. The fabric was thin; anyone watching closely would have known exactly what was happening underneath. She sucked hard, rolled her tongue around the head, sought out with the tip the exact spot that drove me crazy. I clenched my teeth not to make a sound. I knew I was close, and just as I started to cum, I opened my eyes and saw the flight attendant, behind a curtain at the center aisle, with her skirt hiked up and her hand between her legs, watching us. I had no choice but to finish in Marisol’s mouth while that woman fingered herself shamelessly.

Marisol emerged from under the blanket tousled and red-faced. She opened her mouth to show me there was nothing left: she had swallowed everything, something she never did at home. What a way to start.

***

—Wait a minute —she told me, and went toward the bathroom, right across from where the flight attendant was.

I closed my eyes for a moment and, when she came back, the movement of the blanket woke me. She was still flushed, still tousled. She hugged me and whispered what had just happened.

She told me she had swayed past the flight attendant and that inside the bathroom she had deliberately left the door slightly ajar. She pulled down her very short pants so the woman could see the new white lace thong hugging her ass. The flight attendant didn’t hesitate: she went in, shut the door, yanked her around and kissed her with an intensity that had her soaked in an instant. She knelt down, pulled down her thong, and buried her face between her legs until she made her come against the sink.

—And then it was my turn —she whispered to me—. I had no idea what to do, it was my first time with a woman, but she was so hot that I barely had to think. I knelt down and licked her with fury. I came almost without touching myself, just from doing it.

I was stunned. Seeing her with another woman had always been one of my deepest fantasies, and hearing her tell it made me rock-hard again. Marisol noticed and smiled.

—I don’t know why I did it —she said—. Women had never done anything for me before. I only know I was insanely turned on and I loved it.

—Stop worrying —I told her, kissing her—. You’ve got me hard as a rock.

We held each other as best we could under the blanket and fell asleep thinking that this vacation was starting in the best possible way.

***

Around three in the morning I got the urge to use the bathroom. I got up carefully so as not to wake Marisol and tucked her in properly. Across from the bathroom, in a single seat, the flight attendant was resting. A few buttons of her blouse were undone and her skirt had ridden up a little; nothing could be seen, but perfect legs could be made out.

I went in and, since the door latch made noise and I was afraid of waking her, I pissed with the door slightly open, angling the stream so as not to make any sound. When I finished, I wet a bit of paper to clean myself, because after Marisol’s blowjob I hadn’t been able to wash up. The cold water and the rubbing woke my cock up again. Then I heard movement behind me.

The flight attendant was leaning against the doorframe, tousled and smiling.

—Well, you two are a couple with the same habit —she said—. Neither of you closes the bathroom door.

She stepped forward and shut it herself. I was still with my pants down and the wet paper in my hand.

—Sorry, but that doesn’t clean it properly —she said softly.

She crouched down, pulled my boxer shorts all the way off, and took my cock into her mouth when it was still only halfway hard. It took just two strokes for it to become rock hard. She took me all the way to the back of her throat, something I had never experienced, and began to move with a depth that left me breathless. Her eyes watered and saliva dripped down her chin; she gathered it with her hand to use it again on the shaft, combining the up-and-down motion with a twist and just the right pressure. That woman was a marvel.

I knew I wasn’t going to cum: it takes me quite a while, and I had already done it a few hours earlier. So I took control. I turned her with her back to me, facing the mirror. She had her skirt hiked up and a very thin thong over a gorgeous ass. I pushed the fabric aside, bent down into that impossible space, and tasted the pussy Marisol had told me about. It was soaked and tasted divine. I ran my tongue flat from her clit to her ass, drawing a circle over the sphincter, and felt it clench. In the mirror I saw her face of pleasure.

I kept licking hungrily while stroking her ass. I slipped one finger into her ass, just the first knuckle, and it went in with an ease that spoke of a lot of experience. I tried a second finger and it accepted it without effort. When she was on the verge of coming, she pressed her pussy against my face and ground herself violently until she soaked me completely. I don’t know how long she stayed like that, trembling, but it seemed like an eternity.

Then she looked at me over her shoulder, stuck her ass out as far as she could, and brought one finger to her own ass, as if asking me not to leave her without the prize. I didn’t need any urging. I placed the tip of my cock against her entrance and, as soon as I started to push, she gave a sharp jerk backward and drove it all in at once. She moaned, closed her eyes, and started moving. I grabbed her hips and thrust with a frantic rhythm while she rubbed her clit with her hand. Her ass tightened and opened uncontrollably until she started convulsing. I had to hold her up so she wouldn’t fall while she exploded in an orgasm that left her speechless.

When she went still, I pulled my cock out slowly. She straightened her skirt, buttoned her blouse, wet a bit of paper, and after cleaning me, sucked me one last time to leave me spotless. She kissed me and walked out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened. I stayed there, still stunned, trying to understand what had just gone down.

***

I went back to my seat. Marisol was still asleep and I didn’t want to wake her. I lay back beside her and covered myself with the blanket. Without opening her eyes, she wrapped her arms around me.

—How was the flight attendant? —she murmured.

I froze. All I could manage was:

—Wonderful.

She smiled without opening her eyes, pulled me tight against her, and whispered:

—Tell me later.

We fell asleep just like that. At 6:30, Valencia time, the flight attendant was the first to wake us. She pulled back the blanket, stroked both of us over our clothes, and whispered that we had arrived. She gave each of us a kiss and went off to pick up the intercom, where in the sweetest voice she greeted the passengers and wished everyone a pleasant stay.

At the terminal a van was waiting to take us to the hotel. The group of couples was as varied as could be: two gorgeous women in their early thirties, two men our age dressed in expensive clothes, an older married couple, and a couple of mixed pairs. We reached our overwater bungalow around three in the morning, worn out by the trip and by everything else. We undressed, held each other on the bed, and fell asleep without even unpacking.

What happened after that, once we were in Cancun, I’ll save for the next time we see each other.