Page 224 of S is for SEX

She wiggled past me, stood, and used my shirt to wipe the cum from the inside of her thighs. After putting on her shorts and not bothering to put on a shirt, she turned toward me and held out her hand.

“Where’s your phone, mine’s in the ocean,” she said.

“Shorts pocket. You used my shirt to clean up?”

“Yeah, sure did, Dork. You forgave me, remember? Being in trouble with you is some good shit, so feel free to punish me for it. But wait till I’m done dancing,” she said as she reached for my shorts.

Still quite naked, I relaxed into the recliner and watched, wondering what she was going to dance to. Seeing her move to the music was magical, and made her appear exquisite.

As the song began, I realized it was not an old school beat like what she had danced to before, but something much newer, and modern. The beat was hypnotic and the words were very suggestive.

As she pranced up and down the fuselage of the plane to the music, I became erect again. Seeing her squeezing her breasts, dancing, and tossing her hair to the music was far too sensual for me to contain myself.

Halfway into the song, and I couldn’t take it anymore. As she continued to wiggle, turn, and twist to the sound, I began to stroke my cock.

While she danced, I stroked. Several times, in her perfectly timed choreography, she worked her way to within inches of me, pointed at me, and turned away; her hair swirling behind her as she did so.

Quite moved by the entire experience and more than turned-on to the sound of the music and her ability to move in conjunction with it, I continued to stroke myself. As the song came to a close, she dropped to a kneeling position and began to squeeze her breasts.

And I came all over my stomach.

“That was hot as fuck,” she said as I collapsed into the seat.

“Holy crap. It sure was,” I said as I stood. “I need a rag.”

“Here,” she said as she tossed me my shirt.

I wiped the cum from my stomach and grinned as I tossed my shirt on the floor of the plane.

“What was the name of that song? That was remarkable,” I said.

“Only new song worth dancing to. Same name as the shop. Blurred Lines,” she said.

“Blurred Lines? Really?” I asked.

She nodded her head. “Yep.”

“I’ll have to remember that one,” I said.

“Be tough to forget,” she said.

As the place began to descend, I gazed down at her and became lost in her beauty. She was wild, she was intense, she was brash, and she was without any type of filter whatsoever.

But she was mine.

And I intended to make sure she knew it.

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