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A Tale, Twisted

Posted by: Age: 30s Posted on: 4 comments
3 likes 768 views Category: Masturbation Female-Male Tags: male - female, tricked, cum, Sister, Tied

Just read! A collection of words for your delectation!


A warm summer’s day: he sat in the VIP lounge at a table from which he could see the whole room at Roissy airport while waiting to board. As he looked a tall, dark woman, aged about 30, with full figure, came in, glanced around, spotted the easy chair and empty table just in front of him, walked over and with just the wisp of a smile at him, sat down.  He admired her clothes: expensively dressed, he thought. He particularly liked her flared skirt which reached just above her knees, and the decollete of her blouse was, well, interesting.  As she entered the luxury lounge for high flyers she noticed several men look at her. She knew she was good-looking, if not beautiful – she had been told so by a number of men. She was drawn towards a man sitting alone, wearing a lightweight suit, pale blue shirt, tie, good shoes. A businessman perhaps heading to Bangkok? It would be nice to be next to him on board. She decided to try to arrange it. On board he was just about to settle into his seat having divested himself of jacket and tie when he heard a mellifluous, deep voice near him: “Could you help me with my bag into the overhead locker, please.” Turning to see the speaker his heart quickened: it was the woman from the lounge. Once seated beside him they began to talk over champagne served before take-off. I know what I’ll ask him, she thought, but save it for after dinner. Conversation flowed easily between them, like the champagne. She found out he was attending business meetings in Bangkok and she aspired to rent an apartment for a while and enjoy the delights of Thailand. They were very relaxed after a good dinner when she said: “That tie you were wearing earlier: it’s unusual. It seemed to have a symbol or emblem on it a bit like, er, how should I say, like a phallus. Was it?” He said she was quite correct. “So what’s the meaning of it, if there is any? Is it a club tie or one you just bought on a whim?” “Well, if you noticed as well as the phallus there was a vague outline of an aircraft too. The tie indicates that I am a member of the Mile High Club; I joined some time ago.” “Oh, you’ll have to enlighten me. What is the Mile High Club? Can anyone join? Presumably it has something to do with flying?”  “You really want to know?” She nodded and smiled engagingly at him. Perhaps this has possibilities, he thought. “Being a member of this club signifies that the member has made love while flying, somehow or other, and I have enjoyed that experience!” “I see,” she said. “Excuse me for a few moments.” She chooses to leave just when the flight could become interesting, he thought ruefully. Five minutes later she was back, smiled at him, and sat down. He noticed a stronger hint of perfume, her make-up just perfect and, no, it could not be true, but her bra had gone. She was only wearing her blouse and the decollete had become even more interesting.  “To resume our conversation,” she started, “tell me: can anyone be considered a member of your club even if they haven’t made love properly?” “Who’s going to check? I guess it’s a sort of personal matter, what you believe yourself. You could always mention it to others that you have indulged even if you did not go the whole way…..Why, have you something in mind? Could I help in any way?”  “Mmmm, I think so. I wouldn’t want to go the whole way but a little light relief would be nice to follow on from the champagne. The icing on the cake, so to speak!” She stood up, walked away and returned moments later with blankets, one for each of them. She passed one to him: “Just put this over you - to keep off the draught you understand!” She covered herself to her neck and without further ado, leaned towards him, slid a hand under the blanket and reached across to his shirt. She kissed him, a lingering kiss, even French. After all they had just left France. “Undo the buttons,” she said and then she slid her hand across his chest. She leaned over further and her other hand, concealed by the blankets, found his trousers, opened them and delved inside to find him. He, in turn reached for her breasts: he marvelled at their generosity. They were lovely. She pushed aside his clothes so she could play with him, stroke him.  “I want to join the club. Here take this; you may need it shortly. You can keep it as a memento,” she said as she handed him a lace handkerchief.  A few, deft strokes was all it needed to have him gasping and within moments his need was fulfilled. She felt a certain satisfaction. She was on her way to becoming a member. Some moments of respite… He leaned towards her, felt the fullness of her breasts again, moved a hand down her stomach: “Just a sec, let me loosen my skirt.” His hand inched down across the soft skin, reached her hair - he noticed she had on no panties – continued slowly down to her opening.  No!  What’s this?  He felt again.  He’d been had!  She was a he.  She had a cock!

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