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She cried out as she was filled, their combined fingers and his thick cock making a pressure that far exceeded anything she had before experienced. She was full, so very full. He pulled out, and then plunged in again, and again. All around him was the heat of her body, the crushing grip that pressed from all sides. He could feel the stroking fingers through the thin membrane above, and as each caress dragged down his length, the tension and heat in his loins mounted. She was begging for more, harder, faster. He obeyed her breathless command just as she had earlier for him. The sound of skin smacking loudly against skin was sharp and high above guttural grunts and rasping breaths. The pungent smell of sex clashed and mingled with the salt of sweat. Knuckles were white with strain, eyes tightly clenched, bodies taut and rigid with indescribable pleasure. Then, with a harsh shout, the man came, his body jolting and shuddering. The sudden pulse that preceded the surge of hot liquid. I remember thinking, as I looked at the wall separating me from what I presumed were the higher ups, that it must be like communism. All are equal, some are just more equal. I sat in the seat assigned to me by a window while I fumed. I had worked damned hard for the company. I won my trip to the Tiny island of Bimbo through some damn fine work. I resented being singled out to sit in the front of the plane while others travelled in what I considered a more luxurious manner. I had absolutely no facts on which to base the thought. I was not only the only woman in the regular class compartment, I was the only person. The steward, who spent almost all his time in the rear, explained that mine was the first stop on the pickup route. It seemed that we barely made it into the air before the plane began to descend again. The second stop was in a town slightly larger than my own. We were on the ground only a few minutes when the tall grey-haired man entered. He was shown to the window seat.
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