The Layover of My Life

The day started out badly - my flight to Chicago from Toronto was delayed for a maintenance issue, and I would miss my connector to Vegas for a gambling junket. At the US Airways counter, the friendly clerk apologizes, offers me a voucher for lunch and dinner when I get to Chicago, at their club lounge. Along with that, a ticket for my new connecting flight, which won't leave Chicago until 8pm. The only good thing was that she did upgrade me to business class on both legs

Around 8:30, we start boarding and I find myself in row six; an aisle seat on the left side. There is no middle seat because of the roominess of mine and the window seat next to me,

Then, I see her - my seatmate - and she is gorgeous! Five-foot-six, pale complected, 130 lbs max, with long brown hair fixed in a ponytail. She is fifty or so (nearly twice my age), and dressed to impress. Her laptop bag, royal blue pencil skirt, crisp white blouse and blazer, scream business professional. When she lifts her carry-on to stow it overhead, her jacket opens and 34Ds loom just above me.

I catch her giving me the once over as I stand to let her in. Our eyes meet and her smile erases my rough start to the day. She seems satisfied to be sitting next to a well dressed, twenty-something black man of nearly six feet. My chocolate brown polo shirt, pleated slacks and Armani shoes certainly help my cause.

While this lady glides into her seat, I catch sight of a rather large diamond and wedding band; all in all, a sexy married woman is a much better companion than some sweaty, stinky guy sitting beside me.

We strike up a conversation about weather and travel, and soon we know the other's name - Karen and Charles. She then asks me what brings me to Chicago and I regale her with my story of a businessman being delayed on his way to Vegas for a trade show. I didn't want her to judge me as some kind of a low life, single dude with nothing to do but to gamble my life away.

I am careful to maintain eye contact as we chat for the next hour, but after having finished the sorry semblance of airline food, I notice Karen has taken off her pumps and is rubbing one foot against the other; her pink toenails soothing one another through the gauzy mesh of her taupe hosiery. She notices my gaze and offers, "I will be glad to be home and get my feet into something more comfortable than these new shoes."

"You should put those in the fine hands of a masseur," I quip, offering a smile and gently wringing my hands.

"You would do that for me?"

I raise the armrest on each of our seats and pat my thigh just above the knee. Karen looks across at the people in our row, who are asleep, and carefully raises one leg then the other to rest across my lower thighs.

With the dinner and trash carts having already made their way along the plane, we were in the quiet part of the flight, and I figure there is no hurry, so I proceed carefully with just her right foot. While my right hand cups Karen's foot and gently squeezes and then eases pressure, my left thumb and forefinger linger on just her baby toe. My thumb courses the bumps and crevices along the top of the diminutive digit while my finger prods the underside. I repeat that along each of her toes, and then use my well-manicured thumbnail to carve a crease from her heel, along her instep.

Karen moans softly, and then says in a low voice, "You ARE a masseur. I thought you were overselling me." Her eyes close while I move from toe to toe. My hands soothe her tiny feet and Karen lays back and savors my touch.

While I work on her left foot, Karen bends her right knee, exposing the insides of her thighs to my gaze, leaving to my imagination, a hint of a shadow where they meet, She drags her right heel up my thigh, toward the tented crotch of my pants. Karen twists her foot and her toes fondle my erection; her eyebrows rise as a testament to her approval of both my hidden but obvious length and girth.

A gong sounds and the captain's voice announces that we are soon to be descending into O'Hare. Before he can finish his announcement, a female flight attendant walks down the aisle, checking that trays are stowed and seats are upright.

When she sees Karen's foot in my hands and the other stroking my tented length, she can't hide her smile and moves on. Karen says, "We could take this back to my place if you like... unless you'd rather hang around an airport for the next eight hours."

I peek up along the sensuous line of her thighs and Karen seals the offer by parting her thighs wide enough to display her vulva in a hammock of translucent black silk. I smile while I eye the meaty mound and offer, "I think that is a great idea."

Karen sets her feet on the floor and pulls her seatbelt across to secure it. I add, with a coy grin, "You don't think your husband will mind?" I intentionally focus on the large ring.

"Oh. We're separated," she replies, and adds, "He is in San Francisco, and I am in Chicago... at least until tonight. But, you'll already be on your way by the time he gets in." We laugh at her comment and settle in for the final stage of the flight.

This would be a first for me. I've had a few sexual relationships, and lots of friends with benefits, but never with a married woman. I can handle myself, but I don't really want to fight my way, half naked, out of someone's bedroom. Hopefully, I would get to taste this fine piece of white meat and be back in time for dinner at the US Airways club.

It wasn't long before we are on the ground and in an Uber to a swanky home about 10 minutes from the airport. I felt pretty uncomfortable stepping out of the car in a whiter-than-white, gated community of pristine lawns and flagpoles flying Old Glory. I take Karen's bag into the house and set it inside the door.

Karen greets me with her tongue down my throat; her hand goes right for my dick. I slide off her blazer and toss it on a chair in the living room. She starts to kneel and then said, "Fuck it. Let's just go to bed." She takes my hand and leads the way upstairs.

I follow right behind Karen, enjoying the sexy sway of her mature, wide hips. My very hard dick stretches up to the waistband of my slacks, as if seeking a way out. She unzips her skirt as we near the entrance of the bedroom and I unbuckle and unzip as well.

Inside the bedroom is a king-sized four-post bed with a thick, white duvet and half dozen pillows. I kick off my Armanis and shed my slacks and underwear as Karen drops her skirt to the floor, hikes her pantyhose off, and quickly unbuttons her blouse. Seeing my shiny black tool in ready form, she says, "Get on the bed, I want that dick in my mouth!"

I toss the extra pillows on the floor, haul back the duvet, and settle on the fresh, white sheets with my back against the headboard. Karen is down to just her black panty and bra set; her light pink nipples poke through the thin material.

She crawls up from the foot of the bed and kneels astride my thighs. As her hands explore my pole, she says confidently, " I assume if I blow you first, you'll last longer when you bury that big dick inside me."

"Don't you fret, baby. I got a few good rounds in me." Karen didn't wait for me to finish before she wraps her lips around my knob and begins sucking me off. Her hand stokes the bottom four inches of shaft while she takes the rest in her mouth.

Karen's free hand cups my balls while she swirls her tongue round and round my cock head, bringing me closer to my first cum. I grasp her ponytail and use it as a handle to mouth fuck this married bitch, and she loves it!

"You like this black dick, baby? I bet you do!" Karen responds with sloppy slurps as I force my dick to the entrance to her throat. There is nothing hotter than a willing bitch making gurgling sounds. I can feel my balls tightening, so I pin her onto my hardon and call out, "Here comes the nut!"

Karen's hands are thumbing my nipples when the first blast erupts into her throat, and she greedily gulps it down, along with the next few jets. It was just after the third volley that I heard it.

From the hallway, a make voice saying, "I got an early flight. I thought I'd surprise..." It was too late - my dick continues its liquid assault in Karen's mouth as I see her husband standing in the doorway staring. His hands stretch out to brace against the doorjamb to keep his legs from buckling under him.

By the time the last glob of cum spills from me, Karen's mouth is already off me. Dribbles of cum ooze down my shrinking shaft. Flight or fight, I think, and brace myself for his next move, but he just stands there staring at his wife's near naked ass high in the air, kneeling over a strange man's cock.

Karen pushes off me and our eyes meet. She nods assertively and gets up from the bed to go to her husband. I don't move an inch as she nears him, not sure of what will happen next. He says, "I, uh, didn't mean to..." but before he finishes his sentence, her mouth is on his. She puts her arms around his neck and kisses him hard.

When I see their kiss intensify, their tongues moving inside the other's mouth, I am in utter shock. Karen ends the kiss and says gently, "That's okay, honey. We just aren't done yet." His tongue appears between his lips, and he tastes more of the salty gift that she just gave him.

He looks blankly at me, then back at Karen, and she adds, "Why don't you go for a nice, long run. We will be done here in an hour." She turns back toward me without hesitation and winks at me with a devilish grin on her way back to the bed.

Her husband turns quietly to his dresser and opens a few drawers to remove the items needed for his run. I look down at my cock, which has fully shriveled from this crazy situation. He walks from the room and says, without turning back, "See you in a bit."

Karen laughs out loud at my look of shock, and says, "Well, mister, you better deliver a nice big load in this married pussy! Hubby's going to be hungry when he gets back!"