(no More) Fear of Flying

(No More) Fear of Flying

(c) 2024, by P.D. Vile

Story tags: Mf, cons

NOTE: This story was originally written for a story writing contest on another website. The mandatory writing prompt was "first times". The version that you read here has been modified to fit the Literotica rules.

The knot in my stomach tightened as the taxi came to a halt.

"This is it, Sir," the taxi driver remarked, with a heavy Indian accent, "domestic departures. I'll get your suitcases from the trunk."

I sighed. Indeed. This was it. I felt a shiver run down my spine.

I could still go back. I could just remain seated, tell the taxi driver that I had a change of heart. Ask him to take me home again. That would be simpler. Safer. Comfortable.

I quickly took the brochure out of my pocket again. As I had done so often during the past weeks. Every time I had second thoughts, every time I had been on the verge of canceling the trip, I had looked at the brochure to remind myself of why I was doing this.

"The Roary Walrus -- Alaskan Wildlife Adventures

We take you so close to the animals that you can smell their breath and hear their roar. A unique experience! Limited availability. Book now, before Greenpeace makes us stop!"

I sighed. I had never known that I wanted this, until this brochure had landed on my doormat. But once I saw it, once I had read the texts and seen the pictures, I knew that there was nothing in this world that I wanted more than this.

But... it was in Alaska. And without a passport, there is only one way to go to Alaska. By air.

"Sir? Did you hear me? You need to get out. This is short stops only, I can get fined if I am not out of here in time."

I sighed again, then forced myself to get out of the car. The driver had already put my suitcases on the curbside, and now presented the credit card machine for me to pay.

"Don't forget to enter your tip before swiping your card," he reminded me friendly.

It took me three hours, lots of help from strangers, airport staff, and even some pilots, and several liters of sweat, but in the end, I managed to clear all hurdles. Check in. Baggage drop. Security. And the walk to my departure gate. There I sat now, on an uncomfortable bench. My backpack on my lap, two arms wrapped around it. My ticket clenched between the white knuckles of my fist. My knees shaking, and my head covered in sweat.

Two more hours before boarding. Two more hours in which I had to resist the urge, coming from every fiber in my body, to get up and run, run as fast as I could, run as far away from this dreaded airport with its silver flying coffins. Run towards safety.

But also run away from The Roary Walrus. That thought kept me seated, albeit with wobbly knees.

"Mister? Are you alright?"

I looked aside, expecting to see airport staff or perhaps a flight attendant. But the person standing next to me was neither. She was a girl. If I had to guess, I'd give her perhaps 18 or 19 years. A freckled face, red curls, green eyes that sparkled with youth. She wore a knee length skirt and a loose fitting blouse.

I tried to speak, say something reassuring, but my voice failed me. So I just nodded. The girl smiled and hopped on the bench, right next to me. I could feel the warmth of her body press against my side.

"First time?"

I nodded again.

"Oh, then I understand why you are scared. I was very nervous too, my first time. It was with my dad. He really helped me through it, and in the end I really liked it."

"You did?"

"Hmm-hmm. So much that I now want to do it all the time!"

I tried to smile at her.

"All the time? How do you pay for so many tickets, then?"

She giggled.

"Silly you. I said I

want

to do it all the time. I cannot afford to fly all the time. Only a few times."

We sat for a few minutes in silence. The girl's legs were swaying back and forth, causing her body to move gently against mine all the time. It had a soothing effect on me. But I realized that people might get wrong thoughts, seeing me sitting next to a so much younger woman. Especially her parents, if they were here. I looked around to see if anyone was keeping an eye on her, or appeared to be searching someone. But nobody seemed to notice. People passing by didn't give us a second look. I realized that, to them, it looked like we were perhaps a girl with her father or uncle, traveling together. Nobody knew that we were total strangers.

She finally broke the silence.

"You long until your flight?"

I checked my watch. It was less than a minute after the last three times I had looked.

"About two hours. The waiting is killing me."

She smiled.

"You just need something to do. So you don't think about the flight all the time."

"Yeah. But what?"

"A game, of course! When I have time to kill, I always play a game. Perhaps you and I can play together?"

She jumped up from the bench, grabbed my hand, and tried to tug me along to wherever she intended to go.

I hesitated. I had not felt like a nervous breakdown since the girl had sat herself next to me. It was clear that distraction worked. I would not mind spending the rest of the wait time with her, instead of by myself on a bench, dying a thousand deaths per minute.

But at the same time, I realized that I didn't know her. Surely someone was watching her. What would they think if I went with this girl to wherever she planned to take me?

"How about your parents? Should we not ask them first? Or at least tell them where we are going?"

She laughed, and the sound reminded me of jingle bells.

"My dad is over there, at gate 7."

She pointed vaguely in a direction. I noticed signs of gates 21, 19, 17, and then there was a bend.

"That's very far away! Won't he be worried?"

"Hey, I'm not a kid. Besides, dad knows that I know this airport inside out. He knows I'll be at the gate in time. I don't have such an overly protective helicopter dad as some of my friends do. He trusts me to take care of myself."

I briefly wondered how many parents would define 'chatting with a random man and then dragging him somewhere for a game' as 'taking care of herself'. But I kept my mouth shut.

I got up and followed the girl. I had expected her to take me to some kind of games area. But instead, she took me to the toilet area.

"What, do you need to..."

"Shhh."

She looked around, then quickly typed a code on the keypad next to a service door. It opened and she dragged me inside, then quickly shut the door again.

"What? I don't think we are supp..."

"Shhh".

The soft finger pressed against my lips made me do as requested.

I looked around. We were in a small room, apparently a storage area for cleaning utensils.

"I told you I know the airport inside out! The janitors have started their round an hour ago. They won't be back here for at least three hours. So we're alone here. We can play without people interrupting."

I was still struggling what to say about this unexpected turn of events as she sat down on a large crate, and patted the crate next to her. I mechanically sat down as well.

"So, here's the game we play. You ask me a question that I must answer. And then I ask you a question and you must answer. And so on."

"Oh? And that is fun?"

"Oh yes. You'll see."

I sighed. Well, at least it was better than sitting on my own on that bench. At least I still had this joyous girl as my company.

"Okay. You go first!"

I thought for a while, then decided to start easy. The question made sense.

"Okay. What's your name?"

She sighed and looked disappointed.

"No, silly!. Not that type of questions. The questions have to be a bit naughty. Things you would not normally ask. Here, let me show you. When was the last time you thought of sex?"

It's a good thing I wasn't eating or drinking, for I would have sprayed her with the contents of my mouth upon hearing that question.

"When was the last time I... Come on, you can't ask that. I can't tell. You're way too young!"

"Am not!" she insisted, "I'm eighteen, remember! I know about sex. I think about sex. If you asked me, I would have told you when. But I asked you. So you have to tell me. That's the rules of the game."

"But..."

She sighed.

"Okay. I thought you wanted to play. Guess I was wrong. Come, I'll take you back to your gate. I can find someone else to play."

"No. Wait!"

Thoughts were raging through my head. Suddenly, sitting the rest of the wait time by my own on a cold metal bench was no longer my main concern. Suddenly, I saw in my head how she might approach other men, take them here, to the loneliness of this storage room. Then ask them that same question. And I knew, just knew inside, that some men would take advantage of her. Here, in a room with no witnesses. She would be defenseless.

There were only two things I could do to keep her safe. One was to try to talk this idea out of her head. But seeing the resolve on her face made me doubt my chances. So that left only the other option.

"Okay, I'll play. What was the question again?"

"Yay! It'll be fun! When was the last time you thought about sex?"

"That would be perhaps a minute ago. When you asked me about the last time I thought about sex. And before that, I think it was last night when I watched porn to try to take my mind off my flight."

She giggled.

"That is two answers! You only had to tell me the last time. But giving extra answers for free is not against the rules, so it's okay."

"Now, your turn to ask a question," she prodded, after I had been silent for longer than her low patience level could endure.

"Okay, then what is the last time

you

thought about sex?"

I expected her to also answer that it was here and now. But she shook her head and sighed wearily.

"No, no, no. That is not how the game goes. You cannot ask the same question. You have to ask a different question."

"Oh?"

It really would have helped if she had told me the rules in advance. I had no question prepared.

"Come on," she urged after a few seconds.

My brain was working overtime. I had to come up with a question. But all that came to my mind were either questions that were not naughty at all, or questions that were perhaps acceptable in truth or dare with people of the same age, but not between me and an eighteen-year-old.

"We don't have all day, mister. Don't overthink it. Just ask the first thing you think of."

"Okay then, what is your bra size?" I blurted, then quickly clapped my hand over my mouth.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"No, no apology," she said, "you've got it now. That's the type of question that makes this game fun!"

"But..."

"And the answer is B. I have a B cup. And that's rounding it up. I often wish they were bigger, but they are not."

I felt my head turn red at her candid reply, and tried not to imagine the sight of her standing naked in front of the mirror and wishing her breasts to grow.

The sooner we'd move to a different topic, the better.

"Okay, your turn."

"No, not yet!"

And then she got up from the crate she had been sitting on, and in one quick motion lifted her blouse over her head and dropped it to the floor, exposing a gorgeous upper body. It was light, almost pale, and there were freckles all over. Even on the skin surrounding the red areolas and small pink nipples on her firm, small breasts.

"What? What are you doing?"

"Showing, of course! I have to show that my answer is true. Else I can just say whatever I want!"

And then, while I was still flabbergasted, she took my hands in her hands and brought them to her chest.

"Here. Just feel. See? Barely more than an A cup."

With a will of their own, my hands stayed on top of her chest and moved around a bit. I felt the softness of her skin. Felt her small, pointy boobs. I applied a bit more pressure to feel the elasticity of her breasts. They were indeed delightfully small.

I quickly withdrew my hands as I realized what I was doing.

"Okay. You can now put it on again."

She shrugged.

"Why? It's not like I have much there. And you've already seen it. It's warm here, so I'll keep it off."

I sighed, but didn't press the issue. To be honest, I did not really mind the sight. It awoke something in me I never knew was there. And I liked it.

"Okay. My turn. Yesterday, when you watched porn. What type of porn was it? Can you describe it?"

I felt heat in my head and knew I must have turned beet red.

"You want me to describe..."

"Yes. All of it! In detail! Tell me what happened."

"But I don't have it on my phone. Only on my computer at home."

"So? You still remember, do you?"

"You said I have to prove it."

"D'uh. Silly mister. Only when you can. You didn't need to prove when you last thought about sex because you can't. You can't prove this either. But you still must be honest."

I sighed. Once more I considered whether to continue this game. And once more I realized that at least with me, she would be safer than with some other men. So I decided to keep playing.

"Okay. It is a very standard story. A woman is sitting on the couch, in her nightie. The door rings. It is the mailman. He has a package, but it has to be paid. She doesn't have money. And then he says that she can pay in other ways, as he grabs her ass and kisses her on her mouth. She takes him inside.

They are on the couch. She opens his pants and takes out his penis. It is already hard. As always in porn, it is way bigger than normal penises. She strokes his penis a few times, then opens her mouth and takes him in. She even takes him in her throat. Again, porn is not realistic. Most women can't do that and don't like it. But this is porn. So she does. She sucks him for a few minutes, while he undresses her and plays with her large boobs... sorry, breasts."

The girl giggles.

"It's okay to say boobs, mister. And you can also say dick or cock. And cunt, and fuck. I know all the words. I think the film sounds better when you use the dirty words."

I looked at her, and tried to ignore the hand that was lightly rubbing her crotch over her skirt.

"So, then he throws her on the couch and starts to lick her... there."

"Her cunt," the girl corrects.

"Yes. He starts to lick her cunt. And after a while he also puts two fingers in her cunt and pumps her hard, while still licking her. She has an orgasm. you know that porn orgasms are often fake?"

"Yeah, but don't say that. It is more fun to pretend it's real."

"After her orgasm, he climbs on top of her. He fucks her. Missionary style. After a few minutes, he pulls out and has her sit on all fours. Then he fucks her from behind. She cums again. Then he has her in a weird position, on her side, with her leg lifted high so that the viewer has a good view of his dick moving in and out of her cunt. He keeps fucking her for a few more minutes. Then he pulls out and wanks himself, until he shoots his cum over her."

The last part of the answer was more and more rushed, as I desperately tried to ignore the panting and huffing sounds the girl made.

"That was it?" the girl then asked.

"Yeah. That was it."

"Cool! I want to see that movie too!"

"Of course," I mumbled.

"Your turn again! You have to ask me a question. I hope it's a good one!"

I put my brain to work again. A question that she would consider naughty enough. And one that would not make her lose even more clothes in an attempt to prove her answer. And one that was not yet asked before.

Damn! This was hard!

And then I had the idea.

"Okay, here is my question. When you are alone in your room," I stressed those words extra, "do you sometimes play with yourself?"

"You mean masturbate? Yeah, of course! Here, let me show you!"

"No, wait." I hastily interrupted, "I said when you're alone in your room. So not here and not with me around. You cannot prove it. And I believe you."

She laughed again.

"Of course I can prove it!"

And then she took her phone out of a pocket in her skirt. She pressed her finger against it to unlock it, then scrolled a bit, and then proudly turned the screen towards me.

"Here! This is me, alone in my room!"

Although her face was partially obscured by her phone, the girl on the screen was definitely her. Sitting in front of a large mirror, in what clearly was a girls' room, filming herself in the mirror. She wore a shorter skirt and a tight shirt than this time. And then she opened her legs and lifted the hem of her skirt a bit. She had no panties on, so I could directly see her smoothly shaved slit, with her labia slightly parted as she spread her legs even wider.

Her free hand reached down and started to rub her clit. She brought her finger to her mouth, then back to her slit again, rubbing it harder this time. After rubbing her clit for a while, she started to include the length of her slit. I could see the moisture form on her lips, and when she turned up the volume a bit, I could even hear the slick sounds.

"Okay, I have seen enough, I believe you," I said, desperately trying to regain control of my dick that was now straining hard in its way too narrow confinement.

"No, no, wait, the best part is yet to come!" the girl insisted, as she pushed the phone back into my face.

I knew I should stop watching. But what I saw right then on the screen made it impossible to look away. I just had to know what she was going to do with the dildo that she now had in her hand. And so my eyes followed the tool as she brought it to her mouth, sucked on it, and then brought it down to her cunny. Where she pressed it against her lips. I watched in awe as those tight labia stretched around the dildo. And even though it looked way too large for a girl her size, I could not deny that my eyes saw how the oversized dildo slowly made its way inside the body of the young woman, until it was all the way in.

I did not know whether to focus my eyes on her wet cunny, that she now pumped the dildo in and out of, or on her drooling mouth, or on her happy eyes. A loud groan came from the phone as her eyes seemed to roll in the back of her head, and then she closed them and collapsed with a happy sigh. The image on the screen moved to show the ceiling of her room, and then the clip stopped.

"Okay, my turn again!" the girl said, without even giving me a chance to recover from what I had just seen, "did you get hard seeing this?"

Thinking back, it's hard to explain what came over me. I don't know why I no longer tried to stop it. Somehow, somewhere, deep inside, I knew that this girl wanted this to go further. And I no longer objected. I felt that it was not bad as long as she called the shots. And so I gave in to the temptation.

"Yes. Oh yes, very hard!"

I stood up, getting ready to unzip. But she surprised me once more.

"Can I do it?"

I just nodded. We had gone this far already. Why not?

She eagerly unbuckled my belt, undid the button, and then pushed down the zipper. And then she slowly, teasingly, pushed my jeans down, over my hips, and then along my legs to the floor.

"Hmmm," she purred, as she rubbed a hand over the bulge in my boxer short, "I could say that this is already enough proof. But I won't!"

And then she quickly grabbed the hem of my boxer short and yanked it all the way down, allowing my hard erection to spring free.

She quickly looked up again. Her head was right in front of my throbbing dick as I saw her lick her lips.

"Hmmm," she signed once more.

And then she leaned in and kissed the tip.

"Your turn!" she then exclaimed, as she sat back down on the crate.

I was racking my brain again. But now I was not trying to find the right question to stop this from escalating. Now I tried very hard to get her to go further. To see where her limits would be. Could I ask her to wank me? Or even suck me? Was the little kiss an indication that she would be open to sucking me? Or would it be better to focus on pleasuring her? Was there anything I could ask that would get her to prove that I could fondle and perhaps even suck her?