returning to normal after orgasming like it was an Olympic sport and I was defending my gold medal from four years before.
“What the fuck?” Joe said, loud, just as someone banged on the door.
My neck pulled down from the sheer force of the cotton from my v-neck being sucked down into the bowels of purgatory, the stainless-steel bowl that normally held excrement now holding me hostage, my shirt a ridiculous parody of what a shirt should be, my body struggling with Joe still in me, my naked ass facing him, pants and undies in a pool between my ankles, my face being drawn into the bottom of a toilet bowl.
A toilet.
The seconds before death descend are rumored to be a moment of reckoning, where your entire life flashes before your eyes and you come to profound understandings about yourself.
I had those seconds.
And the most profound thing that went through my head was Please don’t suck my body in and make my face pass through a pipe covered with businessman shit and deposit me through 10,000 feet of air .
Half naked.
Joe pulled out and I swear he did it so fast I heard a pop! , like a sexual sonic boom from moving faster than the speed of sound. My jeans and undies slid up my legs and he whispered, “Oh God oh God oh God” over and over while I was trapped, attached to the commode by my shirt.
And then Joe reached into the center of the toilet, grabbed the end of my t-shirt, and yanked. Hard.
Released, I went flying backward, my back whacking against the little sink behind us, but I was free!
Bang bang bang . “This is inappropriate and you need to come out now. This is the flight attendant, and I could have you removed from the plane.” The woman’s hard voice snapped me out of it.
“You okay?” Joe fussed with my shirt, which now looked like I’d been eating a blue snow cone the size of a small child, and tripped and fell. The cotton was twisted all to hell and I had this huge blue streaky wet mess down my front.
“Go! Just go. I’ll be back in a second.” He kissed my cheek and squeezed his tight ass out of the bathroom. I heard low voices as he went into hardass mode, and I knew that flight attendant wouldn’t bug me. Not after a tongue-lashing from Joe.
My pussy ached with that post-sex rush you get, my shirt was a god-awful mess and I felt flushed (no pun…aw, hell, that one was intended) and numb all over. When I looked in the warped mirror, the face that greeted me had bright eyes and red cheeks, and my hair was a bit blue on some of the ends, like I’d just done one of those 5K running races where people throw colored powder and water at you because you have nothing better to do than to pay to run in a race where you come out of it looking like you got stuck in Willy Wonka’s factory.
“Please prepare for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice said, loud and large, and I looked down. Shirt on. No bra. Hands in place. Pants. Oh—I buttoned my button, smoothed my wet, stained shirt over my pants, and left the bathroom for my seat.
Fourteen rows away.
This time, all these smiling, warm lovebags of light stared up at me. I was them and they were me. My heart and soul and pussy were so expansive they could hold everyone. Really. I felt like bliss and the world, including the plane, loved me. The wings loved me and the peanut packets were my Cupid.
I sashayed up to my seat and Trevor looked to his left in horror. Loving horror.
“What—” he barked, fury pointed instantly at Joe. Loving fury, of course.
Amy turned around, Sam and Liam with her. They all half stood, eyes coming over me. I was that luscious. I know, right? They felt the love.
“What happened to you?” Trevor asked.
I looked down at myself. “You missed the announcement. Tie-dye workshop in the bathroom.”
“You sick dog,” Trevor said to Joe as Joe stood and scooched me past him, nestling me between them.
Amy gasped and just pointed to my shirt, looking at Joe and Trevor with a curious look. “What? Haven’t you
“What the fuck?” Joe said, loud, just as someone banged on the door.
My neck pulled down from the sheer force of the cotton from my v-neck being sucked down into the bowels of purgatory, the stainless-steel bowl that normally held excrement now holding me hostage, my shirt a ridiculous parody of what a shirt should be, my body struggling with Joe still in me, my naked ass facing him, pants and undies in a pool between my ankles, my face being drawn into the bottom of a toilet bowl.
A toilet.
The seconds before death descend are rumored to be a moment of reckoning, where your entire life flashes before your eyes and you come to profound understandings about yourself.
I had those seconds.
And the most profound thing that went through my head was Please don’t suck my body in and make my face pass through a pipe covered with businessman shit and deposit me through 10,000 feet of air .
Half naked.
Joe pulled out and I swear he did it so fast I heard a pop! , like a sexual sonic boom from moving faster than the speed of sound. My jeans and undies slid up my legs and he whispered, “Oh God oh God oh God” over and over while I was trapped, attached to the commode by my shirt.
And then Joe reached into the center of the toilet, grabbed the end of my t-shirt, and yanked. Hard.
Released, I went flying backward, my back whacking against the little sink behind us, but I was free!
Bang bang bang . “This is inappropriate and you need to come out now. This is the flight attendant, and I could have you removed from the plane.” The woman’s hard voice snapped me out of it.
“You okay?” Joe fussed with my shirt, which now looked like I’d been eating a blue snow cone the size of a small child, and tripped and fell. The cotton was twisted all to hell and I had this huge blue streaky wet mess down my front.
“Go! Just go. I’ll be back in a second.” He kissed my cheek and squeezed his tight ass out of the bathroom. I heard low voices as he went into hardass mode, and I knew that flight attendant wouldn’t bug me. Not after a tongue-lashing from Joe.
My pussy ached with that post-sex rush you get, my shirt was a god-awful mess and I felt flushed (no pun…aw, hell, that one was intended) and numb all over. When I looked in the warped mirror, the face that greeted me had bright eyes and red cheeks, and my hair was a bit blue on some of the ends, like I’d just done one of those 5K running races where people throw colored powder and water at you because you have nothing better to do than to pay to run in a race where you come out of it looking like you got stuck in Willy Wonka’s factory.
“Please prepare for takeoff,” the pilot’s voice said, loud and large, and I looked down. Shirt on. No bra. Hands in place. Pants. Oh—I buttoned my button, smoothed my wet, stained shirt over my pants, and left the bathroom for my seat.
Fourteen rows away.
This time, all these smiling, warm lovebags of light stared up at me. I was them and they were me. My heart and soul and pussy were so expansive they could hold everyone. Really. I felt like bliss and the world, including the plane, loved me. The wings loved me and the peanut packets were my Cupid.
I sashayed up to my seat and Trevor looked to his left in horror. Loving horror.
“What—” he barked, fury pointed instantly at Joe. Loving fury, of course.
Amy turned around, Sam and Liam with her. They all half stood, eyes coming over me. I was that luscious. I know, right? They felt the love.
“What happened to you?” Trevor asked.
I looked down at myself. “You missed the announcement. Tie-dye workshop in the bathroom.”
“You sick dog,” Trevor said to Joe as Joe stood and scooched me past him, nestling me between them.
Amy gasped and just pointed to my shirt, looking at Joe and Trevor with a curious look. “What? Haven’t you
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