I was never big on flying, but after meeting Ben I can't wait to get on a flight again. And hey, this was no ordinary "mile high club" thing either.
I was returning to Chicago from a busy business trip in Milan. It was along flight and I was looking forward to some sleep before getting home and the huge list of "honey dos" that was no doubt awaiting me. Just before we boarded I closed my laptop for the final time and threw my newspaper in the trash. I had no thoughts for anything but sleep on this flight.
Ben was already seated when I stashed my case in the overhead locker. She was at least ten years older than me, which made her about forty-five, but definitely still eye-catching. She was dark blonde, quite tall with a traffic-stopping figure and bright blue eyes. Her clothes were nicely cut, a white shirt and designer jeans, and her jewelry was expensive—the diamond-studded Longines watch caught my eye immediately.
"Hi there." She smiled. Her voice had a definite Italian lilt but was obviously far removed from that part of the world. I found out later she had lived in Madison, Wisconsin, L.A. and now Chicago for the best part of thirty years.
"Hi." I tried to be polite, but really didn't want conversation tonight. I avoided eye contact but couldn't fail to notice the ample breasts that moved enticingly beneath her shirt as she shuffled to let me take my seat.
Once in the air the crew quickly served lunch and as we munched our way through the small plastic containers on offer, Ben introduced herself, as Benitta, and started to tell me the most unwelcome story of her life. I think she told me she was divorced and living off her former husband. I think she told me she had a daughter. I think she told me she had been visiting her sister. Truth was, I wasn't listening. I still wanted to sleep.
Then she started to tell me about coming to the US, and her desire to be an actress. I guess the possibility of being with a minor celebrity caught my ear. Alas she found next to no work in Hollywood, but was definitely proud when she told be of her modeling assignments from twenty years earlier. My ears really pricked up when she stated matter-of-factly that she had spent six months as a glamour model before she met her husband.
"You mean, like, a nude model?" I asked.
"Sure." It seemed nothing to her. "It was good work, well paid."
Now I looked at her again, noticing the clarity of her skin, the lack of wrinkles for someone her age and the hugely attractive boobs that now commanded my attention in equal measures to the tight thighs of her jeans. Ben had a way of moving and smiling that was very sensual and I began to forget about sleep for the first time on that flight.
Quite unexpectedly, she started to tell me about the wild parties she'd attended in her modeling days, mostly in California. When she started to tell me about taking three men at once and having men snort coke from her nipples I couldn't help but form vivid images in my mind about her naked and the wonders her body could deliver.
Ben was obviously open and unashamed of her sexual past, proud of it even. I found her attitude refreshing and not a little arousing. More than once I had to squirm in my seat for comfort as my cock reacted to her descriptions of her making love under the moon on Malibu beach or dancing naked on the table at another drunken orgy. She laughed it off as a colorful part of her past and, I'm sure, pretended not to notice my discomfort.
We had an extra glass or two of wine as she told me more and more of her modeling days until the cabin crew turned down the lights and most of the other passengers prepared to get what sleep they could at 37,000 feet. We both accepted the blankets offered by the crew but when Ben opened hers out, she threw it across both of our laps. I threw her a slightly puzzled look but she simply smiled and took mine from me and did the same, covering us both with each blanket.
