We’ve both seen and done so many different things before we met and yet there are so many adventures left to discover together. I’ve never traveled out of the country unless you count Canada, so we plan an exotic escape to Mexico. You’d been to Mexico years ago in the Army, but it was an entirely different sort of trip. It was a guy’s weekend where you saw the seedy side of life and sex across the Texan border.
As we buckle into our plane seats, I lean over and ask you to tell me about your first trip to Mexico. You glance around to see if anyone can overhear us. You know that I get a vicarious thrill from living through your experiences. I genuinely want to hear about what you’d seen and done when you were there. You tell me about the brothels and the pavilions with every imaginable pleasure and vice. I watch your face light up as you tell me that the most amazing part was that the girls were truly beautiful.
I’ve always wondered if there wasn’t something to embracing our sexual sides without shame that brings a glow from within. As you tell me about the beautiful prostitutes I wonder that if instead of viewing their profession with shame, perhaps they view their profession with pride. Indeed a different way of looking at things, but certainly with merit.
Like seeing a car wreck, I am both fascinated and repelled. I am unable to shake the image you described. My mind’s eye visualizes an orgy of bodies twisting and writhing in the hot, dusty Mexican air. I suppose that the romanticized image I conjure helps me digest the scenario a little better. By believing that the prostitutes have chosen that route, then it is erotic rather than exploitive.
I look at your face and see a far-away look. Half a smile of a distant memory crosses your face. I glance at your crotch and see a slight bulge and know immediately I want to share this fantasy with you.
Snuggling close to your ear, I whisper, “How’d you like another memory with a Mexican whore?” At first you don’t understand and look at me puzzled. Then you see the twinkle in my eye and realize I’d like to do a little role-play with you.
Then with a very lame attempt at a Mexican accent, I stroke your crotch and say, “Que Pasa Americano? For Cinco pesos, Mees Reesa will pleasure Meester Americano, si?” You can’t help but crack up at my spunk and spirit and jump in with enthusiasm.
“Cinco? Dos.” You negotiate back.
“Oh for you Meester Americano, I will negotiate, what else do you have to offer?”
Sold to the highest bidder, I stroke a little more urgently. You’re in the aisle seat, so I suggest that you reach into the storage bin and grab a blanket. Draping the blanket across our laps, I lace my hand into your shorts to discover your manhood erect with arousal. I mentally remind myself to stay in character, and say “Meester Americano, this is most impressive… maybe I should be paying you, no?”
“Oh, you’ll pay all right, you little chi-chi whore,” you say mischievously as you reach back and grab my pussy through my shorts.
Possessively squeezing me, I arch my back with delight and tease back, “Two more pesos for that.”
I feel my insides begin to twitch and the juices begin to flow. I love the idea that we can be so many different things to each other. “Meester Americano, you’re making me so aroused, for you, I lower my price.”
“When I’m finished with you, you’re gonna give it to me and beg for more you shameless hussy.”
We banter back and forth, stroking harder and harder. You’re kneading my pussy lips through my shorts and I feel my clit flicking back and forth over my pubic bone. I actually alternate my touch, feather touches up the length and over the balls, but then gripping around your shaft and stroking vigorously. I run my finger over the head and rub the pre-cum around. I wish this damn flight weren’t so long.
“Meester, what is your Americano term, thees Mile High club? Do you know such a club?”
Glancing backwards, trying to determine which restroom is the least likely to attract attention, we formulate a plan. I’m so excited I cannot stand it. You’ll get up and go first and I will wait five minutes and follow. You’ll be in the one on the right and I have to knock twice and you’ll open the door. You joke with me to double check if I know which restroom is on the right, as you know my propensity for mixing that up. Otherwise, some other person may find himself or herself a little surprised.
My pussy is twitching with desire and you’ve got to untuck your shirt before you can walk to the restroom without displaying your massive erection to the entire plane. I’m sure a few of the other passengers will figure out what we’re up to, but even that is a small thrill.
The minutes tick by and I squirm in my seat. I wonder what you’re doing in the restroom and try to make sure I look calm as I walk back there. Two quiet knocks and the occupied light goes off. The door inches open. I spy your familiar shoes and quickly slip through the doorway. I lock the door behind me.
The restroom is exceptionally cramped, but you’re sitting with on the lid, your shorts neatly folded underneath you. You are naked from the waist down and hard with arousal. Whatever it takes, I need to feel you inside me. It’s so erotic sharing our fantasies and making them come true. I wiggle out of my shorts, quickly exposing my dark triangle of pubic hair and I set my shorts on the counter. I hold my panties up to show you how I wet I’ve become.
Firmly planting my feet in the narrow space on each side of the toilet, I straddle you. With one swift motion, I lower my pussy to the head of your cock. I ride the tip back and forth a little, just to tease us both. Then, I plunge down so that you are buried inside me. I bite my lip in pleasure as I try to keep from moaning too loudly.
This trip to the restroom is not about much more than a quick physical release, we’ll have time to properly make love when we get to our hotel. For now we just need to ram our intimate areas together in a raw primal frenzy. You rock your hips and I ride your cock frantically. Our juices mingle and your orgasm builds. I am so excited by this and start to ride harder, crashing down with more force on each stroke.
“Take that, you whore,” you say as you lightly smack my rounded bottom while I’m riding you. With the smack you feel me tighten around you as my muscles react. Then as I continue to ride your cock, you grab a handful of my hair and say, “You love it don’t you, you love to fuck.”
I’m no longer in character, but we’ve transcended that, and I just groan with lust. “I love to fuck you.”
“You’re my woman, don’t ever forget that.”
“And you’re my man.”
With that utterance, we both reach the point of no return and begin to quiver with our climaxes. I feel your pulsations of ejaculate shoot into me and my legs shake uncontrollably. I collapse and wrap my arms around you. Our breathing slows and I glance over in the mirror. Our eyes shine passionately with excitement; I slowly stand up and remove myself from you. I hastily put my panties and shorts back on, pressing my legs close together to savor the hot stickiness of raw lust flowing between my legs.
You begin to dress also as I step towards the door. Momentarily grasping my hand, you say, “I’m not through with you yet.”
I smile back and say, “I sure hope not.”
I sneak back out the door and return to our seat, waiting for your return.
A few moments later, you slide in next to me, sporting the most devilish smile.
“What?”
“Well, as I was leaving, I caught the flight attendant’s eye and she gave me a knowing grin. It’s exciting to know that she knew what we were doing.”
Winking at you, I suggest, “Too bad she couldn’t have watched us or joined us. But I suppose that’s another fantasy for another time, huh?” Quickly switching back to my phony Mexican accent, I inquire, “Are you pleased with me, Meester Americano? Will you see me again this trip? Can Mees Reesa make you a happy tourist?”
“You already have, my baby girl.”
Snuggling in close, I sigh with contentment. I lay my head on your shoulder and you just stroke my hair gently. We doze off with visions of the rest of our trip ahead of us.
