The friendly skies

Apologies to you dear reader but this true story cannot possibly be told in a few sentences.

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I love to travel. Airports, planes and trains give me a wonderful chance to practice my favorite traveling pastime—watching people. Watching women in particular. Larger breasted or busty women to be exact.

Traveling alone returning from a business trip, I boarded the flight and proceeded to the back row taking the window seat, because in the possible absence of buxom scenery, upon landing, I wanted to see out across the countryside on approach. It had been an excellent layover in Chicago O’Hare with numerous lovely bust lines to ogle and analyze. All sorts of sizes and shapes. Some low-cut dresses and tops, some tight. Some in lingerie that allowed sexy jiggles and movement, some strapped down in industrial athletic bras. One particularly nice looking business woman was hustling down the concourse past my table at the bar, hurrying to her flight, drawing, assuredly, every male set of eyes and some female eyes too, I’m sure, to the frenetic movement beneath her satin sleeveless blouse. Businesslike, navy pencil skirt and black heels, she obviously didn’t plan on having to hurry so when she chose to wear no bra under her bronze blouse. The heat of the concourse had her holding her blazer over her shoulder bag as she trotted along. Her lovely breasts, topped by what had obviously become very hard nipples arced back and forth beneath the flimsy fabric. I shook my head in disbelief, as I noticed a sharp-dressed woman at the next table staring open mouthed at the spectacle. Just as I noticed she had an impressive bust line beneath a sharply tailored purple blouse, she glanced at me, and her astonished expression turned to delight at being caught, and a coy look down and away to finish paying her meal check.

I imagine she enjoyed my return look of astonishment as she boarded the flight and sat on the aisle seat of my row. She gave me a friendly smile and “Hello”, and as she sat down. My eyes took a double take. “Is that a sheer blouse?” my always-alert-boob-profiling inner voice said. Sure enough, as she leaned over to push her carry-on below the seat in front of her, a black bra back strained against the thin, sheer purple fabric of the blouse. With a well-practiced side glance as she leaned back and reached to buckle her seat belt, I mentally measured DDD- or E-cups and sensed their heavily rounding. “Oh my,” I mouthed to myself.

Luckily the middle seat between us remained empty after the doors were shut and the flight took to the air. Through the first hour of the two-hour flight, I must have stolen 200 more glances at the mystery woman in the purple blouse. “Is her bra lace? Is it also sheer? What can you see down her blouse? I wish she’d undo one more button! Do they hang or are they firm? Hang. How much? Is there jiggle? Yes, I thought I detected some. What nicely tanned lightly freckled skin on her neck and what I could see of her chest through the open top of her blouse. Does she all over tan? “ We exchange pleasantries as we both read our magazines. Or, at least, I appeared to read mine.

After drink service completed, she closed her eyes and appeared to sleep. I took a ballsy, direct, long analytical gaze at her boob profile, and I caught a slight jiggle above the firm cups of that bra. “Ah, ha. They hang. They must be somewhat soft.” I’m was looking down at her big boob side-profile when she opened her eyes, looked right at me, catching me in the act, and let out a soft giggle, and “Hmmm.” I looked up and locked eyes with her violet eyes. “And, I see you are still on that same page of your magazine. Must be really good to spend an hour on it!” She giggled, again.

She smiled devilishly, and slowly rubbed her right hand up her belly over her boobs and chest. Her hand lingered there on her décolletage as she glanced down and saw the strain on my jeans below my safety belt. As time seemed to slow to almost a stop, her eyes locked onto my bulge, her hand dropped ever so slowly back over her left boob, stopping over what I guessed was a hardening nipple. I followed every moment in rapt focus, and caught her slight squeeze of that boob, and as I glanced up I noticed her slightly parted lips and tip of her tongue, and as my eyes made it up to her eyes, I noticed her gaze had shifted to my face as she widened that devilish smile at me.

Eyes locked on mine, her hand dropped to her lap, slides between her legs and moves on down her thigh, where I sense a the outline of a stocking top and garter beneath the tight black pencil skirt. She said, “I think I can tell that you like what you see. Right? I’m very flattered. Thank you.” She unclasped her safety belt, laid a hand gently on my thigh, winked at me and purred, “Please excuse me . . . I need to relieve some tension.”

She quickly got up and walked back to the lavatory, leaving me wondering, fantasizing about that devil grin and twinkle in her eye. I wondered if she weren’t right then in the lavatory under that tight skirt and dipping her long fingers into her waiting quim and giving herself a quick shuddering organism right in the mirror of the lavatory, a mere dozen feet over my left shoulder.

The strain in my crotch increased to the point where I had to shift to extend my stiff member down the inseam of my jeans. What a day to travel commando, I curse to myself! I leaned back, closed my eyes and tried to think of ice cubes.

Then, she was back, sliding into the middle seat and leaning against my arm. As I opened my eyes and looked toward her, I thought I detected a much more pronounced jiggle and sway through that purple sheer fabric. I was right. As she leaned over then back after adjusting something on her shoes, hard nipples traced fair sized arcs, straightening the folds and straining the thin sheer surface of the blouse. She leaned a boob against my arm, and broke one of those really alluring wicked smiles right into my eyes, and the weight and sensation on my left arm registered without any doubt that those monumental boobs were indeed soft and indeed hefty. As a bonus, I felt her gumdrop-sized nipple poking into fold of my elbow.

She leaned in, and whispered in my ear, “I released this strain for you,” and slid her left hand, which had remained hidden at her side, into my crotch, pressing some black fabric there. The bra, now mine, caused my cock to stiffen even further down the inside of my thigh. Dropping the sheer, black, E-cup almost nothingness bra onto the seat in my crotch, and not taking her eyes off mine, her hand quickly slid in to squeeze my cock and then slowly drifted back up, warm, and slightly trembling, to rest on the top of my left thigh.

I stroked her right thigh with my left hand, and grabbed the loose bra slipping from my lap with my right to keep it from sliding to the floor. “I would remove something else to give you, but I never wear panties,” she says; devilish grin, wink, slow licking of moist lips.

By this time the plane was on final approach, and she asked, “Have you been voyeuring breasts in airports and planes long?” I’m so stunned, I could only nod affirmative. “Are you interested in seeing more?” Again, of course, I nod yes. “Any success? Have you hooked up with any you’ve ogled?” No, I shake my head. “I’m about to blow your mind then,” she said as she again reached inside my leg to grab and then massage my extremely stiff cock. She grabbed the front of her shirt with her free hand, and without even a glace to see if she were being observed by others in the plane, she pulled it away to give me a long view down her blouse to see the beautiful areola and hard nip that topped her giggling massive breast. I felt my head swim.

Just then the landing announcement brought time back to normal speed. We buckled in, and our hands stroked each other’s thighs. She occasionally reach over to run her nails over my still stiff cock. She held my gaze in her violet eyes. Hitting the usual turbulence on approach, her eyes shifted slowly down to her chest, and her grin widened and she guided my eyes to see her magnificent boobs jiggle and sway with each bump of the descent. “Can those nipples actually be harder?” my boob voice screamed in my brain. “Oh my god, I have to have them in my mouth. Can I possibly fit both in my mouth at once? They are so big!” my thoughts screamed.

As the tires hit the runway, her boobs took pronounced lurches in opposite directions, nipples straining the sheer fabric, another button at her cleavage popped open to give me another bouncing glance of a dark pink areola, She leaned into my ear and whispered “Are you in the West Economy lot?” I nodded yes, locked on her eyes again. “I need someone to walk me to my car.” I said, “Well I’ll certainly see you there safely.”

We exited the plane, hand-in-hand. She made no attempt to restore her bra or button up the front that gave obvious views of her ample bust and accented by the pronounced sway caused by her confident gait. We walked briskly to the terminal train, my gaze locked on her boobs bouncing and swaying in and out of her gaping blouse. She smiled as she watched all the leering male heads and a few stunned females turn and lock on her pronounced chest display and its independent dancing performances.

I don’t even remember the walk through the terminal. But, I do have an image burned in my mind: as the elevator doors closed and she punched the button for the first floor, she smiled at me and opened the last buttons of her blouse pulling it up and out of her skirt. Grabbing the edges of her blouse placard, she flashed her magnificent babies at me in a classic MILF-Gone-Wild pose. My mystery woman gave her chest a shimmy, locking me in a hypnotic trance. Just as the she slowly buttoned back up, licking her lips and giving me a knowing “You’ll get your chance” admonishing look, the elevator doors opened, and matronly senior woman, herself sporting an unfortunately decades-repressed monster bosom behind a high collared blouse from the last century, and I expect webs of industrial elastic and huge lace and nylon cups. Her mouth fell into a gaping gasp as she instantly suspected us of illicit activity by our leering at each other, and the disheveled mystery woman’s hands on her final button, and the exposure still of quite a bit of depth of beautiful cleavage.

The next thing I knew we’re in the tunnel almost to the lot. She dropped her shoulder bag and pushed me into the wall. She reached down and unbuckled my belt, and jeans, reaching in and grasping my throbbing cock. “Mmmmmmmmm. “MMMMMMM” she purred and again licked her lips. She pulled my jeans down over my bum and my cock jumped up to attention. “Commando, too?” she cried. “Oh, yeah.” She locked my mouth in a hungry slopping kiss, thrusting her tongue down the back of my throat. After we come up for air, she again locked those intense eyes on mine, and urgently whispered, “I can’t wait to gobble this up.” I responded excitedly with, “I can’t wait to make you cum just by sucking those nipples into oblivion!” which was awarded with a deep purr, wicked grin and her grabbing my hand and literally running out the end of the tunnel toward the lot. I barely had time to grab my jeans and belt to keep from being tripped as I eagerly ran after her.

Just on the edge of one of those pools of overhead halogen lights, close to her car I presumed, she turned and continued slowly backing away from me, hand unbuttoning that blouse again. Her devilish grin was now a leer, I noticed, when my gaze managed to tear away from the ever-widening gap in her blouse up to her lovely face. I saw that she was about to give my eyes the view it longed for the entire flight. She curled a finger beckoning me to follow and let her open blouse fall freely to either side of her swaying huge pointed beauties. She turned and trotted a few steps to a black SUV reaching into her bag to click the door locks open. Her eyes commanded me to follow her to the rear of the vehicle, as the cargo hatch opened automatically. She threw her shoulder bag in, and not even glancing around to look for observers, whipped off the rest of that fantastic, temptress of a purple sheer blouse throwing it in the back. She stood there, under the halogen glow with her hands on her hips, shoulders back thrusting the most magnificent heavy hanging E-cuppers up into the light. My first assessment on the plane was correct. Medallion sized dark mauve discs, topped with slightly lower than centered nipples the size of gumballs hard and glistening pointing straight off to diagonals away from her. I knew I was leering back open mouthed. I licked my lips, dropped my carry-on and started to advance, hands out to cup and squeeze.

“Stop right there. No play for you until you let me see that monster snake of yours. Show me. Right Now!” she said.

“Here? Outside the car? I could get arrested!” I blurted.

“Aren’t these worth it? Don’t you want a suck on my fantastic nipples? Drop. Those. Jeans. To. Your. Ankles” she replied.

Flip. Pop. Zip. Push. Down they went in record time. Sprong! Up it jumped, standing out at rigid attention.

“That’s it. Lovely. Now. Climb into the back,” she ordered me.

We climbed in. She swung the gate closed. She pushed me down on my back, eyes locked on mine, hands clawing in parallel lines down my chest, fingers twirling in my pubic hairs, until she locked my cock in a firm grip and slowly started to pump up and down. Her gaze slid down my chest to my cock. She looked back up, licked her lips again, and with a wolfish grin, dropped down to take me in her wet, warm mouth. She sucked me all the way in, first go, taking all its seven thick inches into her throat, tongue working its thick underside vein. She stroked slowly up and down beneath her mouth locked on my shaft. My eyes rolled back in my head. “Oh, my. Oh, my. Hang on. Hang on!” I gasp.

A deep purr escaped her throat. She released me, back to stroking with her right hand, as her left hurriedly unfastened her skirt. Masterfully she stroked up and down as she kicked off ankle boots pushed her skirt down and off, yanking them off with each foot. Underneath she only wore thigh-high stockings topped with lacy bands. She spun around onto my lap to give me a good look. And I am pleasantly hypnotized again by what I see: a fully bare quim! Meaty lips, and protruding mound, beaded with moisture already.

She grabbed my right hand and guided it onto her pubic mound. I dipped my thumb into sopping wetness. Her clit sprung to protruding hardness under my gentle stroke.

“Ohhhhhhh” she moaned, and slid up onto me, taking all my rigidness into her puss in one fluid motion. I buried its whole length right in right to the hilt. She moaned again, and purred as her eyes rolled back into her head. She tipped her head back, still purring, and started to rock back and forth in hungry, scr****g arcs as her nails lightly sc****d down my chest.

“Suck on these tits,” she screamed, sitting up and grabbing them with both hands and forcing those big hard nips into my mouth. I didn’t waste time putting my practiced moves on her girls. I sucked them deep, stretching them out to their limit. I rolled them between my teeth. I tasted the slightest hint of sweet cream. She rocked her hips back and forth in time, pounding my cockhead into her depths, and gripped her pussy muscles in rhythm on my shaft, milking me relentlessly. In the same rhythm she mashed her magnificent rack into my face, her softness covering my cheeks, and then falling off, then mashing in, then out. I was about to go crazy.

As I nibbled on those nips one more time, and gave a huge swipe of my tongue over both fleshy pebbles, her rocking accelerated to a race and she started to shudder down deep in her pussy. She fell back on her elbows as the waves rolled up her chest to her shoulders and head. A window-shuddering moan welled up from the bottom of her throat. She bucked, and swayed, her lovely tits rippling back and forth. She came, and came, and slowly settled back to stillness, smiling into my eyes. My cock throbbed, I couldn’t hold it any longer.

“Oh no you don’t” you scolded as she hopped off and grabbed my cock, rolling me in one fluid motion up to straddle her belly. She slid that wet cock in between those lovely monumental mounds, and taking just one firm stroke, with a huge moan, I let go, releasing ropy strand after strand of cum up to splash her chin. She ducked open her mouth just in time to slurp a jet onto her tongue. “MMMMM! Tasty finish to a flight” she purred, as it the throbbing spurts slacked to a dribble and a large pool gathered in her cleavage. She d**g the tip of my cock in a long lazy figure eight first around her lips, then her areolae, stretching a line of slick cum around both still-rock-hard nips. She dipped three fingers into the puddle, lapping it onto her tongue, for a satisfied swallow and smile.

“Where is that bra?” she throatily asked. I whipped it out of the right back pocket of my jeans, still pooled around my right ankle. I don’t know how my left leg came out. Another one of her athletic mysteries, I guessed. I offered the lacy nothingness bra up to her suspended between two fingers returning her devilish grin.

She grabbed it in her teeth, ripping it from me. Then she twirled it around her fingers, violet eyes still locked on mine, and proceeded to wipe up part of the cum with the bra, ending with a slow stroke over my balls, and now drooping shaft. “I want to wear this stickiness home on my magnificent tits, feeling you stick to me as I kiss my husband hello,” she purred. “This bra is for you to remember me by. You are to take it with you on every future flight and use it as you stroke that beautiful cock to your memories of my magnificent titties! I’d best not ever find you’ve washed it!”

We dressed. We kissed, long and lustily. She caressed my face and chest. I her buttoned her blouse for her, giving each nipple a parting kiss through the sheer fabric. They both once-again rose up hard in response. She stood outside, except for those sexy stockings, naked from the waist down, as she zipped up my jeans and gave the tip of my cock a slow wet kiss. She then slowly pulled up and fastened that memorable tight skirt and climbed onto her heels before we both climbed into her front seat. As she dropped me at my SUV, and give me a wink, she purred, “Let me know the next time you fly out on business. I just might have a reason to be on that flight.”

And that was that. Oh the friendly skies!

Never got her name. Don’t have a way to reach her to tell her I’ve got a trip overseas to Asia coming up and my fear of having nothing to look at on that long flight! Mystery lady with the beautiful breasts, if you are reading, please drop me a line?