Chapter 91 – Mile High

When Darnell and I finally got to board the British Airways flight to London, we were two of only seven first class passengers. As we made our way down the jetway, Darnell’s arm casually wrapped around me with his hand resting possessively on my hip, he explains that this is one of the newest Boeing 787s and has a brand-new first-class section. I don’t bother reminding him that I’m the one that booked the flight and am in fact the one that let him know of the flight’s new first-class section.

When we enter the plane and the pretty stewardess directs us to the left, I’m momentarily confused as I see rows and rows of luxurious individual seats. Booking the flights and witnessing what first-class looks like are entirely different things. The seats are so big that there’s only one seat for each window and two in the center. Each seat has its own TV, locker, and even their own little refrigerator. Just as I’m getting into my head around this level of luxury as opposed to the hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, no room for anybody economy that I’m used to, we step through a curtained doorway from what I later learned was business class into the real first-class cabin.

Each seat here is significantly larger. They have more room to stretch out, are wider, and more luxuriously upholstered. The TVs, closets, and fridges are all bigger, and the seats have their own cubicle-like walls separating them from everybody else. Darnell helps me into the first center seat before moving to the other aisle and taking the center seat next to mine. With a flick of his wrist, he opens the divider between the two spaces, giving us our own cozy cabin for two.

Once everybody is seated, I notice that the seat across from me is left open. I let myself have a little smirk, remembering that I’d booked the seat for Trixie but hadn’t canceled the ticket. Evidently the flight wasn’t upgrading anybody to fill it leaving me with an extra bit of privacy for the seven-hour flight. After accepting a drink and a pre-flight snack from the stewardess, we’re soon in the air. For the first couple hours, Darnell is busy messaging and emailing his various clients. I’m able to occasionally peak over and see his activities, noting that about half of the discussions are with our upcoming client.

I spend the time otherwise between watching a movie and reading. After a tasty dinner service, better than most restaurants in Chicago, we enter international air and Darnell is able to transition into voice calls. Following Mal’s instructions, I pull out a pad and pen and take notes of what Darnell is discussing so that I remain up to date on everything he’s planning. I note Darnell seeing me be ‘his’ secretary and the pleasant extra bit of smile it causes.

After the lights are dimmed and the stewardess politely asks Darnell to end his calls for the other passenger’s ability to sleep, we both try to settle in for the night. With only a few more hours of the flight left, we’ll be arriving at Heathrow in the middle of the night. We’ll have an hour or so layover which should give us enough time to find an open store and get some comfortable clothes. The flight and our second layover will take another sixteen hours before we get to the resort and there is no way I’m spending that entire time in a skintight leather skirt and showy red blouse.

When I turn back to Darnell, I see that he’s settle back into his seat with his ear buds in. Reaching across I gently touch his shoulder to gain his attention. Once he’s looking at me I nod toward the bathroom, letting him know I’m going to freshen up before he goes to change into his PJs. Once he grins and nods, I stand up, smooth my skirt out of pure habit, then walk through the nearly silent cabin to the bathroom.

Before I enter the restroom, I note that the stewardesses are buckled in and quietly chatting amongst themselves. Trying not to bother them, I remain quiet as I slowly open the bathroom door and slide in and quietly latch the door behind me.

Looking in the mirror, I immediately set my purse down and pull out my lipstick. It’s rare that I go so long without at least touching up my makeup. Only once I’ve finished applying the fresh coat and am pressing my lips together to evenly blot them do I pause and mentally kick myself. Of course I’d immediately think of touching up my makeup as I’m still wearing office clothes. Office wear and immaculate cosmetics go hand in hand. It doesn’t matter that I came in here to wash OFF my makeup!

With a little shake of my head, wondering if these mannerisms will ever truly go away, I recap my lipstick and prepare replace it with some travel cleaning wipes that are buried deeper in my purse. Before I can even put the lipstick back in its home though, I feel the door open and brush past my rear, forcing me to slap my hand over my mouth to silence the startled scream that wants to come pouring out.

Still looking in the mirror, my eyes open wider as I watch Darnell slide into the bathroom behind me. The bathroom is quite large when it comes to airlines, but it’s still not designed for double occupancy. When Darnell has the door closed and latched, he turns and is more or less pressed up right behind me. His hands snake around my waist as he kisses the top of my head, looking at me with his sly grin in the mirror, “This is a great idea, Paris!”

Putting a nervous grin on my own mouth I play back in my head what just happened from Darnell’s perspective. He wakes with me shaking his shoulder to see me nodding toward the bathroom before walking quietly there. If he kept watching he’d see me look over to where the stewardesses sit and then quietly go into the bathroom. Did he think I snuck in here? And how did he get into the…

I replay latching the door behind me and try to remember if I felt the latch actually close or if I just felt my fingers slip over it. Because if the door hadn’t latched, then Darnell would have seen me sneak into the bathroom and leave the door open and the sign unoccupied. He’d have seen an invitation.

My intuition is confirmed when Darnell gently spins me around and bends forward to engage me in a deep, passionate kiss. One of his hands cups the back of my head while the other grips my ass and pulls me against him. Against his obvious hardon.

While being soul kissed by Darnell, I play out several scenarios in my head and quickly come to the frustrating conclusion that this is how I’m going to enter the mile high club. By going down on my knees and giving a blow job. Trying to convince Darnell that this ISN’T what I had in mind would be difficult. Doing it quietly enough to not arouse the stewardesses’ suspicions would be practically impossible. And while the airline may not take any action against two frisky lovers going at each other in their first-class bathroom, they might take action against the company who booked the flight. K Edison Global could literally lose tens of thousands of dollars if they lose executive status from British Airways.

By the time Darnell pulls away from our kiss, I’ve made up my mind and commit to the task at hand. Like giving him blow jobs in the copy room and giving Mal his hand jobs in the office, I push ME to the back of my head and let HER take over. I let myself become fully Paris. With half-closed eyes and slow, sultry movements I press my hands to Darnell’s chest and slowly move down his body until I’m able to kneel in front of him. Between my heels and ass pressing up against the cabinet and the back of my head pressing against the sink, I have barely an inch between my lips and Darnell’s zipper. A glance downward shows me that Darnell’s shoes are already pressed up against the toilet, meaning he has no room to back up.

Without focusing on why, I feel a thrill run down my spine as I work at unzipping Darnell’s slacks. When I have him open, I reach in with my seemingly dainty hand and my bright red nails and grip his already hard shaft. Knowing that seeing women struggle isn’t a sexual turn on I ignore that I can’t pull him out of his pants when he’s this hard and instead move smoothly to unbuckling his belt while simultaneously leaning in and sniffing at his open zipper.

As Darnell’s natural musky scent surrounds me, I slowly get his pants fully open. With only a little effort I’m able to pull his pants and briefs down to mid-thigh. My hand is just quick enough to snap up and grab his cock before it snaps free of his underwear and smacks me in the chin. Instead, I’m able to turn it to the side a bit and line it up with my cheek. Smiling up at Darnell I make sure he’s as aroused as he can be, watching me and being able to compare his large size against my whole face and small hand. Aroused doesn’t even begin to describe the lust I see starting down at me from Darnell’s glazed over eyes.

Knowing I have him, I move right into the main event. I’ve orally pleased Darnell enough at this point that I know what’s required to get him off and what’s simply icing on the cake. Stimulating his scrotum is important but kissing and sucking on his balls are extras I can ignore. Licking along his length is necessary if only to get him moist enough so that my lips can slide along and not stick or bind up. Eye contact is appreciated, but not necessary, leaving me to focus on what I’m doing.

I hate how familiar this all is. How I know exactly how much to open my mouth. How I know exactly how much to stretch my tongue out. How I know exactly how much I can close my mouth to let my lips glide over his girth without my teeth touching him at all. How after the first few bobs up and down, I know to reach up and pull my hair back away from my face. And how I know I can let go of my hair because Darnell will casually gather it up and hold it as a combination ponytail and hand grip.

While I could easily go completely on auto pilot to give Darnell a successful blow job, I struggle against my own instincts. When I feel that first throb of Darnell’s cock over my tongue that means he’s really into the action. That’s where I’d normally slow down to extend his pleasure. Maybe slide off his length and kiss my way down to his balls. Or maybe spend some time just kissing and nuzzling his cockhead while I grip and gently stroke his length. All that lets his steam cool down a bit so that he can reach even higher before cumming. But this time I just want out of this situation. More than the normal fear of being found going down on a guy, I’m now scared of the stewardesses finding us. I need to hurry Darnell along.

I skip the kissing or stroking and instead move to the deep throating. The day’s been long, but I haven’t had to talk much so my throat is still fresh. Still tight. As I let out a tear of effort and feel Darnell slide into my throat, I make sure to look up at him and show him the two sided coin of this action. Show him that I can do this raunchy, erotic, evidently rare, act for him. Show him that I’m making that effort for his pleasure.

And it works. I feel Darnell’s hand grip my hair tighter, even though he’s still only holding it and not using it to guide my actions in any way. No, Darnell has always been a gentleman and doesn’t impose on me. He lets me have complete control. As Darnell’s eyes roll up and back, as his eyelids half close, I go for the kill shot. With his cock still in my throat, I start that low hum that drives him wild while barely moving my head forward and back.

Knowing exactly how long it takes Darnell to go from ‘about to cum’ to ‘cumming’ gives me plenty of time to think about how I want to finish him off. I’ve finished him off just about every way I can imagine. From jacking him off to shoot all over my face, to shooting into my hand, to shooting into my open mouth and onto my tongue, to shooting in-between my clamped down lips and into my mouth, to cumming right down my throat. I’ve learned that while Darnell never complains, it’s clear he doesn’t like it when I make him cum into my hand. His gentlemanliness evidently ends at making it easy for me to clean up without swallowing down his seed. With the remaining options left, I immediately scratch out having him cum on my face. I’m sure he’d love that the most, but we don’t have the time for me to clean up that much. And in these cramped quarters, I’m not sure I could direct his firehose of a cock to get all of his cum into my mouth unless… unless he’s inside of my mouth.

While there’s no avoiding the taste of Darnell for the next few hours, I can choose to avoid having everything taste like cum. With a little extra effort I push forward, press my nose into his kinky pubic hair, and ramp my humming up. On cue, Darnell jerks and starts throbbing in my mouth. I feel his cum going directly down my throat as I start swallowing around his shaft and cockhead.

Only when I’m sure Darnell is finished do I pull back and let him slide out of my mouth. With a practiced ease I pull a wet wipe from my purse… I always carry gentle baby wipes now specifically for moments like this… and make sure Darnell is cleaned and slid back into his underwear before he can get hard again.

Ten minutes later I’m in my seat with the spearmint Altoids doing it’s best to mask ‘La saveur du Darnell’. Darnell is happily snoozing in the cabin next to me in his jammies, while I’m left in my skirt and blouse. While no one would likely blink at me going back to the bathroom so soon after using it and changing into some sleepwear, I really don’t want to see the inside of that bathroom again.