Emma, using a pseudonym, presents "The Report".
Chapter 1: Emma's Narrative
February 27th, 2024,
I'm typing this in-flight, heading towards you. My excitement and anticipation are nearly overwhelming. It's difficult for me to write coherently. I'll try to be as detailed and open as you asked.
I've just returned from the restroom, making it through the trip for the sixth time. It's likely the last time before landing. I boarded with a window seat, 3A, in business class. I was upgraded - here's how and why.
The flight to Munich was surprisingly short. I sat next to an elderly gentleman who had a mustache. He was pleasant. Nearly every hour, I needed to awaken him and lead him to the bathroom as instructed. My urge to shift my legs against his and grind against the chair was getting stronger the more I edged, possibly causing discomfort for my neighbor. At one point, he might have noticed the blue dress you chose for me. It's strapless and minimalist, revealing more skin than typically necessary, which prompted envious and lustful glances from men and women.
Upon arrival at the Munich Airport, I proceeded to Gate F21 as ordered. I'm not afraid to admit I'm a huge slut who's been chasing men since my teenage years. I've had sex with attractive men on first dates and a few less appetizing ones as well. This task, however, had me anxious. Would I be fucked? I knew I hadn't previously been with a total stranger, and the thought left me aroused and frantic, literally fantasizing about airport air conditioners.
I was startled when I felt a hand tapping my shoulder. I gazed up to see a stunning Asian man, mid-40s, wearing a dark gray three-piece suit that hugged his body. There was a colorful handkerchief poking out of his pocket as well. He might have been born in the 18th century, given his silky black hair and intense, steady eyes. His age-defying appearance had me seized with a sudden yearning, but his expression seemed indifferent.
He took my luggage - a large leather bag, a backpack, and a roller suitcase - and instructed me to follow him. We talked for a while before walking swiftly through the vast airport. He seemed calm, holding only a briefcase. My experience, on the other hand, was a hasty shuffle, with all the luggage weighing me down. Finally, after 15 minutes, we arrived at the Senators Lounge. The receptionist needed to confirm my identity and credentials before allowing our entrance. She gave me a disapproving glance as I tottered behind the suit-wearing man.
He presented his luggage to the receptionist, who responded with a sense of confusion. My painful attempt at juggling my belongings seemed pitiful. Fortunately, she eventually permitted me access. Mr. Gray Three Piece motioned for me to precede him, and I did, eager to wrestle with the overwhelming confusion of my emotions.
Upon entering the change area, he shut and locked the door. He gestured to the sides with his arms, implying I should undress him. It was easy enough to release him from his clothing, folding and hanging each piece properly.
His physique was perfect. The wash of water exposed washboard abs, toned arms, and a face that seemed carved from stone. I stood there, incredulous. Instruction: "Get rid of your dress." Off came my beautiful blue strapless number. As I removed my underwear, he led me under the showerhead. He adjusted the temperature, turning it on full blast. I had no choice but to remain beneath it, imprisoned by his grasp.
His cock was perfect. Average-sized and well-proportioned, with just the right curve. My nipples hardened from the cold water and arousal, and I used my chest and elbows to get him soapy. The water enriched my experience, allowing me to run my hands over his perfectly toned stomach and muscular arms. Perhaps he had been training in martial arts since childhood.
He pressed me onto my knees beneath the stream, my face close to the washcloth. It was his turn to take control, forcing my head onto his lap and presenting me with a three-course meal. As a result of your training, I was prepared to accommodate without discomfort.
After a short time, he slid down my throat, draining every last drop in my mouth. "Good girl," he said to me after he was finished. These are the first and only words I've heard him utter. I experienced a strange sensation - pride, humiliation, desire all tangled up in an inexplicable mix of feelings. Once he was done, he dried off, dressed himself for the first time, and left me alone in the water to think things over.
I adjusted the shower head to a jet stream and aimed it at my clit, pleasured myself for a few minutes, feeling somewhat cheated because I had expected to be fucked.
When I got out of the shower, I discovered him sitting on a large recliner chair. Everyone around was immersed in their phones or the Wall Street Journal, but he had his head buried in a manga graphic novel. I stood next to him and, sensing my presence, he beckoned for me to sit on the small footstool he had placed in front of him.
The stool was quite low, so to sit in this position, I had to make sure my knees were tightly pressed together to prevent my dress from revealing my underwear to the whole lounge.
Mr. three piece suit didn't even look up. One of his legs was lifted towards me. I obediently undid it and placed it to the side, then repeated the process with the other shoe. He placed both his legs on my thighs, using me as a piece of furniture.
We stayed like this for approximately an hour. I didn't dare interrupt him. Something about his demeanor suggested, "Do not speak to me." I looked down, frightened to raise my eyes and see what those around us might be thinking.
He eventually rose, and motioned for me to follow him. I scrambled along behind him, carrying our belongings as I had done before. He reached into his inner vest pocket and produced my passport and boarding pass. I suddenly recalled that I hadn't received these items back from him. I was somewhat frightened, but trust that you know what you're doing.
The lounge attendant took my ticket and handed him a new boarding pass. We made our way over to the gate, boarded the plane in group 1 (me still carrying his luggage), and he settled into his business class seat - row 3.
Being rather short, I struggled to place all our items in the overhead bins. And I had no idea what was in his bag that made it so heavy? After ignoring me for a couple of hours, he now noticed me stretching my body in a flimsy dress, prompting him to stare at me with a puzzled expression. After some effort, I managed to stow everything away, and sat down next to him. The stewardess served us both glasses of champagne, which I downed in one sip. He removed his book and went back to ignoring me, casually sipping his drink.
An hour and a half into the flight, I stood up to edge in the bathroom as directed. I was grateful to see the whole cabin was dark and most of the passengers were asleep, including Mr. three piece, who was even wearing eye coverings. As I turned to leave the bathroom, I felt a hand reach in and block the door.
Before I could comprehend what was happening, Mr. three piece entered the bathroom, locked the door behind him. So here's the short story: it's been a seven-hour flight so far, and I've sucked him off three times. This guy has a very active libido.
I have been edging myself while sucking and have also edged a few times independently, resulting in a total of 6 edging sessions during this flight.
Thank you for giving me these experiences, and I'm looking forward to seeing you soon, pilot just announced that we'll be landing in 30 minutes.
Yours,
Emm