First Class Upgrade 1

I gave my dad a hug and kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks for the great visit, Dad." I smiled into his shoulder.

"Thanks for coming to the party. Your grandfather was so happy to see you girls. John's picking you up, right?" I nodded. He patted my arm as he turned and walked around to the driver's side door. Remembering something as he opened the door, he leaned over the roof of the car. "Oh, by the way. I used my miles to upgrade your seat. I hope you don't mind." Grinning, he climbed into the driver's seat, waved cheerily across the passenger seat as he shifted into gear, then merged into the Tuesday morning traffic heading for the airport exit.

I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and wheeled my way into the concourse. The transition from the humid August morning to the air-conditioned airport triggered goosebumps along my bare arms exposed by my white sleeveless blouse. As I checked my bag, the clerk enthusiastically noted my change in seat-fortunes.

"Oh! I see you've been moved to first-class! Very nice!" She smiled as she printed my boarding pass.

"Oh, that's my dad's doing... our family spent Saturday at my rich uncle's house, so I guess he's feeling a little competitive."

"Ha! Hey, whatever gets you those complimentary drinks, right?" She winked as she handed me my claim ticket and boarding pass. "Enjoy your flight."

The line at security was short, and the early morning terminal of the small regional airport was mostly empty. I bought a bottle of water then took a seat near my gate with a little less than half an hour before my flight was scheduled to begin boarding. Crossing my legs and smoothing out the hem of my preppy pink skirt, I retrieved my book from my large leather purse and set it on my lap.

Taking a sip of water, I surveyed the collection of passengers on my post-dawn commuter flight. I caught myself silently judging the predictable assemblage of performance-polo wearing sales-dads with phones holstered to their belts. "Don't be such a judgy bitch, Sarah. You're beginning to sound like Brandy." I mentally scolded myself a second time for the equally-judgy, unflattering comparison to my younger sister. My shiny blue high heel dangled and bounced playfully from the end of my toes as I tucked my water between my hip and the armrest and opened my book.

Forty minutes later, I had become so engrossed in the story that I had lost track of time and missed most of the ongoing boarding announcements. Only when an older woman knocked my high-heeled foot with her purse and touched my bare knee to apologize, was I jerked back to reality. Looking around at the rapidly emptying concourse, I jumped into frantic action.

"Omigodthankyou!" I frenetically blurted out, confusing the poor old bird as I leapt up and rushed to the rear of the thinning line of boarding passengers.

The gate agent raised her eyebrows as she read my seat assignment, having watched me sit through the first ten minutes of boarding. "Enjoy your flight," she muttered as I hustled down the ramp.

Pre-flight beverage service had started in the first-class section as I huffed my way into the cabin. Dewy beads of sweat bloomed across my hairline, and I felt a stray rivulet of perspiration curve at my jaw and lazily trickle down the line of my throat. Apologizing to the stewardess in my embarrassment, I read my boarding pass for the fiftieth time that morning and counted five rows back: the last row of the first-class cabin. My window seat was still open, and all I could see of my seatmate was the back of his brown sportscoat as he was bent over, digging around under the seat in front of him. I arrived and apologetically asked to be allowed by to get in my seat.

"Huh? Oh yeah, no problem at all." He straightened to stand, and I got my first clear look at him. Towering above me, the handsome, mid-40s black man smiled as he eased halfway into the aisle to let me pass. As I squeezed by, my rear gently brushed against his thigh. I hurriedly scooted into my seat, tucking my book into the seatback pouch and opening my phone to text my parents that I was on the plane.

"Boy, am I glad to see you!" He grinned as he settled back into his seat, casually inspecting my legs as I tugged and smoothed my skirt's hem across my pale thighs. I raised my eyebrow slightly, curious about where he was headed with this conversation starter. "I was sure I was gonna be stuck next to some smelly, fat guy. But now that I see you, I guess that makes me the smelly, fat guy." He patted his flat stomach and let out a deep laugh that was interrupted by the stewardess. Without asking for my input, he confirmed champagne for both of us then carefully handed me my glass.

"I'm Murray, and I am on this ridiculously early flight because I'm traveling to check in with a few of my business partners. What about you?" I was caught mid-sip and clumsily rushed my swallow to respond.

"It's nice to meet you, Murray. I'm Sarah, and I'm on this flight because when I planned my trip, I thought maybe I'd go in to work in the afternoo-"

"But now you're having second thoughts and thinking about playing hooky? Naughty! I like it!" He delivered the line with a wink and another hearty belly-laugh, and I snickered before continuing.

"Ha! Well, anyway, I'm here in first-class because my dad is a little insecure about how wealthy his brother-in-law is. Also, you certainly aren't fat, and as far as I can tell from here you don't smell bad..." I joked back, timidly tucked a lock of my red hair behind my ear, then smiled and opened my book, expecting that his interest in talking to me would fade and we'd each settle in to pass the flight.

"Do you take this flight often? Me, I probably make this trip like ten or fifteen times a year. It's amazing how often these jokers need me to meet with them in-person." I looked up from my book to find Murray staring expectantly at me again, awaiting my answer.

"I was out here visiting my parents. I only come out, like, twice, maybe three times a year. You know, usually just around the holidays." I smiled and waited to break eye contact, anticipating the conversation would end so I could turn back to my book.

"So, I really lucked out to catch you this fine, but scorching morning!" He beamed as he continued. "What's the occasion for the rare summer visit then?" I explained the family party for my grandfather's birthday that had drawn me to the coast. As we taxied and took off, I expanded my story -- in response to his good-natured questions -- into descriptions of the guestlist, the catering and wine spreads, and the make-up of my family. I found Murray so surprisingly easy to talk to that it didn't feel unnatural when I launched into a short rant about my worries that my career was stagnating and my insecurities fending for myself so far from my family and hometown.

Finally catching myself pouring out my heart to this stranger, I blushed and apologized for prattling on, turning away to look out the window in my embarrassment. I hadn't expected to see the lake below the plane, and I realized just how long my monologue had dragged on. I apologized again for being overbearing and dominating the conversation for almost our entire flight.

"Psssh, are you kidding?" he chuckled good-naturedly as he peeked again at my legs. "I fly almost every week, and you're the best seatmate I've had this year! I should send your dad a nice 'thank you' for getting you that upgrade." I smiled and blushed in response.

Overhead, the intercom crackled to life with the pilot's landing announcement. The plane's smooth descent was interrupted a few times with light turbulence, and I braced with embarrassment as my breasts noticeably jostled and squirmed beneath my blouse despite the gallant efforts of my bra. Finally, the plane touched down, screeching to earth then wheeling across the tarmac.

As we taxied, I powered up my phone to find texts from John apologizing that he'd had a meeting pop up and would not be able to give me a ride. I scowled at the screen then shoved it back in my bag without answering.

"Bad news from the boyfriend?" Murray asked.

"No... well, yeah... but no. Not really. I mean, he's not, like... I guess he's kind of a boyfriend... or whatever..." I stammered, explaining that he was busy and couldn't pick me up. Murray nodded sympathetically.

When the seat-belt light blinked off, Murray stood in the aisle and offered his hand to help me up. As I stood half-bent below the overhead bin, he gave my body a conspicuous final once-over. Shouldering our carry-ons, we shuffled off the plane with the rest of the passengers. Exiting the jetway, he asked if he might escort me to baggage claim, and I agreed.

As we stood amongst the crowd of impatient passengers, waiting for the designated carousel to start, Murray asked how I was planning to get into the city after my ride canceled. I answered that I would most likely hail a cab, not wanting to deal with my luggage on public transit.

"What?! No way! Cabbies are all crooks; that goes double at the airport!" Murray exclaimed. "I'm renting a car; let me give you a ride." Before I could answer, my bag emerged from the guts of the airport and I moved through the crowd to fetch it. He was a step faster than me, snatching the bag from the track in one quick motion, then heading off towards the rental company counter. I rushed to catch up, attempting to grab the suitcase back from him as he laughed and playfully switched hands, holding it just beyond my reach. Finally, stumbling drunkenly from my giggling hysterics, I relented and accepted his offer on the condition that he let me carry my own bag.

Forty minutes later, Murray's rented Chrysler hummed discontentedly as we inched through lunchtime city traffic. We finally reached my block, and a spot was miraculously open in front of my building. He guided the car to the curb and put it in park. The engine idled and droned as the AC fought off the blazing midday sun.

"Umm... So, thanks for the ride..." My voice trailed off and the car fell silent, not sure how to end things.

"And thank you, Sarah, for being such an enjoyable travel companion." He looked from me to my bag in the back seat. I twisted in my seat to look back, too, my round breasts bulging against the buttoned front of my blouse and battering against the abrasive divider of the seatbelt's shoulder strap. "Have you decided if you're going to work this afternoon?" Murray snuck a glance at the tantalizing lace edge of my yellow bra peeking through the button-gaps of my white shirt.

"I haven't decided yet." I surveyed the summer midday scene outside the car as I prepared to leave. "It's been really nice meeting you." I turned to reach for the door handle, but Murray stretched across me to grab my wrist. He spun me in the seat to look at him, hooking his other hand behind my neck and pulling my face towards him.

"I'm sure you're gonna play hooky." He said with a carnivorous smile, leaning in and pressing his mouth to mine. His lips enveloped my own, wrestling away any resistance and drawing me into him. Dropping my wrist, Murray unbuckled my seatbelt and as the sash automatically retracted into the panel, my unrestrained chest heaved rapidly with excitement.

He slid his left hand to my knee, up my thigh, squeezed into my gap, until he found the moistening patch of my yellow lace thong. His right hand ran from my jaw along my neck, across my collar and down the front of my shirt, popping off a button in his urgency to reach my tits. Slinking under the lace cup of my bra, his strong fingers groped to graze my nipple, provoking a silky groan from deep in my belly. I panted into his mouth as the fingers of his other hand massaged my puffy pussy lips behind the spreading wet stain in my panties.

Opening my eyes abruptly, the lunchtime sun was a sudden sobering reminder of my situation; a black stranger fingerbanging me in full view of any of my neighbors walking by on their lunchbreak was not the image I wanted to make for myself. Breaking away with a reluctant gasp, I pushed his hand out of my crotch and tried to straighten my disheveled hair and blouse.

"Would you like to come up... uh, for coffee?" Breathlessly I forced out the invitation as my long red fingernails traced the back of his large, dark hand, his palm still squeezing my upper thigh.

"Coffee, huh?" He teasingly pondered the offer. "Yeah, you can make me a cup of coffee." We hurried out of the car in unison, Murray grabbed my bag from the back seat and all-but-scooped me under his other arm as we rushed through the lobby and into the elevator. Our furious four-floor makeout session was interrupted by the chime as the doors opened on my floor. Once inside my apartment, Murray dropped the suitcase next to the door then turned to face me.

"Can I take your coat?" My nervously fluttering stomach rushed out the words as I opened the closet nearest the front door. As I draped his jacket onto a hanger, Murray busied himself from behind me, reaching around to unfasten the remaining buttons of my blouse. The front opened and undone, he peeled the two sides of the shirt off my chest and down my arms, dropping the garment to the floor. His lips crawled hungrily from below my ear, along my neck down to my bare shoulder.

"How about you fix me that cup of coffee?" He dripped his steamy words deep into my ear, sending eager chills up and down my spine.

We walked to the kitchen as an awkward unit; Murray pressed behind me like a full-body-puppeteer, his arms wrapped around me, his hands caressing my full breasts through their yellow lace encasement, and our legs stumbling forward as we struggled to coordinate our joint movements. As we crossed the threshold into the kitchen, his busy fingers conquered my zipper and the shimmery pink fabric of my skirt pooled on the dark tile floor. Murray's strong hands cupped and squeezed my bare buttocks as we navigated around the island counter.

My heels clicked across the stone until I arrived at the counter where the one-cup coffee maker stood. I opened the cabinet above, stretching my small frame to reach the shelf with the mugs and coffee pods, bending over the edge of the counter for balance.

My ass sticking out, accentuated in my four-inch heels, Murray slipped his fingers beneath the delicate, lacy line of my thong as he traced my soft, intimate skin from my crack down to my perineum. Another inch forward, and I bucked and moaned as he parted my dripping lips and entered my pussy with two thick fingers. My hands flattened on the black granite, my forehead rested against the cabinet frame as I squirmed and ground my crotch against his hand. His fingertips wriggled deep inside me, his free hand groping and squeezing my breasts through their lace wrapping, his lips wetting my neck and rising to my ear.

"Coffee..." He hummed in my ear, raising my arm for me to reach the mugs. I fought through the pulsing thrill of his fingers inside me, placed a pod in the coffee maker, and hit the start button.

I tried to turn to face him while the coffee brewed, but he held me turned toward the counter. The well-practiced fingers of his right hand plucked open the latch of my bra and I stood impatiently still as he deliberately slid the straps down my arms. Both his hands leapt to my naked breasts, launching a frenzied attack at my round, ripe tits.

"These are some first-class tits." I could hear his wide smile in his voice as he murmured approvingly, rolling my nipples beneath his palms as his fingers fondled and squeezed the firm, meaty orbs. I cooed and purred against Murray, his large, skilled hands transforming my breasts into globes of electrifying sensation. His right hand traveled the length of my abdomen, grazing the soft, pale skin of my flat tummy until plunging below the elastic waistband of my panties. He found my clit with his pointer-finger immediately and I barked at the explosive carnal elation. Murray's middle finger stretched lower to my hairless slit, dipping into my sodden pussy as he twirled my horny nub. I yelped and whined, and squeezing my eyes shut as my climax roared to a peak and then trickled from my body, floating away like a tide and taking with it my energy and bodily control. I collapsed backward against his abdomen, my knees buckling as his hands guided me to orgasm in my kitchen.

My vision cleared, and I straightened, Murray's other hand maintaining its pulsing grip on my tit. On the counter, the coffee maker whirred and steamed, announcing the completion of its work. With a flick of his wrist, the soaked lace scrap of my thong sailed silently to the tile floor.

"I think I'll take my coffee in the living room." Murray smacked my ass playfully. He placed his hand at the base of my back and shepherded me to my own living room. The clicking of my elegant heels echoed in the quiet room as I crossed the wood floor in obedient silence. Murray reclined on my couch, parting his legs in a wide stance. Peering at me over the lip of his cup as he sipped, his instructive gaze dictated what he expected.

With equal parts showmanship and purpose, I sank to a crouch between his parted knees. Squatting, my knees and hips bent outward, frog-like, as I balanced on my patent blue high heels. My eager fingers scratched their red nails over the fabric of Murray's slacks. Tracing the muscles of his inner thighs then up his fly until I reached his belt.

As I squeezed his swollen manhood through the fabric in one hand, the other nimbly opened his belt and unfastened his button and fly. He helpfully raised his hips as I tugged off his slacks, and again as I pulled down his briefs. As his dick was freed, I gasped and dropped his underwear atop his pants, gathered around his ankles. Murray's thick black member swayed and twitched powerfully in his lap. I tried to encircle its girth in my hand and discovered dark daylight in the gap between the reach of my pale fingers.

I determinedly stroked his shaft with my small hand, while running my tongue along my lips to wet them. Slowly sipping his coffee, Murray smiled down at me as I paused to gather my flowing red hair into a tress over one shoulder -- out of the way of my mouth -- then took a deep breath and dove in. My mouth stretched around the round head of his cock as I forced it further towards the back of my throat. I wrapped my lips tight around his shaft, his tool resting heavily on my tongue as I gazed obediently up at him from my knees. My eyes were wide and submissive, already brimming with tears from the effort. Murray returned my gaze, but in place of my surrender, his eyes were filled with conquest. I closed my eyes and got to work.

Balancing myself with one hand on his bare thigh, ringing the base of his shaft with the other, my lips began their long, looping journey down the length of his erection. From tip to base, my mouth filled beyond capacity with his pulsing cock; then base to tip, emptying my jaws and freeing my airway. Peeking up at Murray, I saw he had placed his mug on the end table beside the arm of the couch. His eyes had closed, but his facial expression had changed from triumphant to one of barely preserved composure. He cracked open his eyes and caught me as I looked at him; he smiled in response.

"God, look at you! You love sucking black cock, don't you?" I slowed my bobbing and began to open my mouth to reply.

"No, no need to answer." He clucked and shook his head. "That pretty, talented mouth of yours is otherwise occupied. This is what you were made for, baby."

I pursed my lips around his rod and hummed "mmhmm" in agreement, before settling back into my rhythm. In the pit of my stomach, I felt the fluttering answer to his question, as my satisfied enjoyment of sucking this stranger's black cock thrillingly leapt and bounced in my belly. Further down, between my legs, my wet warmth ached in excited anticipation of its turn to be filled. I moaned softly -- a lusty, satisfied purr -- as my head bobbed energetically in his lap. Murray let out a low groan in response. I took his balls softly in my hand, gently massaging and tugging his sack as my lips worked along his shaft.