Her eyes widens at the sight of your wet spot.

{if game:protected = true}

Your quilt falls as you stand up.

{endif}

Her gaze locks onto your crotch, and her eyes narrow slightly. The stain is unmistakable—glistening, uneven, and definitely not from a spilled drink. There’s nothing nearby to blame it on. She doesn’t want to trust her first instinct, but the evidence is right there.

"Are you okay? What is that?" she asks, her voice a mix of concern and suspicion.

Your face burns. The blush spreads from your cheeks down your neck, and in that moment, you’ve confirmed every thought she had. Her facial expression changes abruptly. There’s a flicker in her eyes—something you can’t quite place.

Does she look... horny to you?

She glances around, her head swiveling as if checking for prying eyes. Then, without another word, she stands up, reaches for your suitcase, and pulls it down from the overhead compartment. She rummages through it with surprising efficiency, finds a pair of clean trousers.

"Go to the toilet now," she whispers, her voice low but firm. "Before someone else takes it. I will bring you your trousers."

You hesitate, but she’s already turning away, holding onto your clean pants like a secret between you. The urgency in her tone leaves no room for argument. You slip past her, the weight of the moment—and the stain on your trousers—pushing you toward the toilets.

You quickly turn the lock, the *click* echoing in the tiny space. Safe. For now.

Only a minute passes—barely enough time for her to stow your luggage—and there’s a knock at the door. You hesitate, then open it just a crack. No one else could be in such a hurry. It has to be her.

You leave the door ajar, expecting her to hand over your pants. Instead, she slips inside, her body brushing against yours as she tries to close the door behind her. But before it can latch, a flight attendant’s hand appears, blocking it.

"Only one person per toilet, please," the attendant says, her voice polite but firm.

The older woman responds in rapid Chinese, her tone urgent. "Don’t worrry he is my son. He and needs my help. I have to be with him."

This could have been your chance to be left alone, but somehow she convinced her. You don’t understand the words, but the meaning is clear. The flight attendant studies you both for a long moment, then shrugs and walks away. The door clicks shut, and the lock turns.

Now, you’re pressed together in the cramped space, the toilet barely big enough for one, let alone two. Her body is flush against yours, the heat between you undeniable. The air feels thick, charged with something unspoken.

The moment stretches, thick with silence, until she finally breaks it.

"Undress," she says, her voice calm but firm. "I’ll help."

You obey, clumsily peeling off your stained pants while your body presses against hers. Every movement brings new contact—her breast brushing your arm, your butt bumping into her leg. The confined space makes it impossible to avoid her.

"I’ll take care of it," she murmurs, taking the soiled pants from your hands and turning to the tiny sink. She begins washing them under the thin stream of water, her movements efficient. You watch, bewildered, before the realization hits you.

"Can you give me my fresh pants?" you ask, urgency creeping into your voice.

"Yes, one moment," she replies, unfazed.

"I could have been dressed by now. The flight attendant might come back—"

"Not now. I don’t have them with me," she interrupts, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. "Anyway, before your fresh pants, I need to make sure this won’t happen again." She gestures downward. "Lower your boxers."

"What? Don’t worry about them, they’re dry—"

"I worry about your dick," she says, her hand already slipping through the leg hole of your boxers. Your heart skips a beat as her breasts press against your chest. Your breath quickens, but for her, it seems like just another Tuesday. She’s completely unfazed.

"I need you to get hard," she murmurs, her fingers beginning to stroke your flaccid penis. But since you’ve just come, it is very sensitive and you can’t really get it hard.

{if game:dick_size=1}

She barely needs two fingers to stroke your whole cock. She could use three, but she seems to enjoy reminding you how small you are.

{elseif game:dick_size=2}

Your soft cock lays from her pinky to her index, she is stroking the underside of your cock.

{elseif game:dick_size=3}

She grabs your dick whole both hands to cover it’s length. She focuses on the head.

{endif}

She doesn’t miss a beat. "It’s OK, just relax. It can happen to any healthy young man."

She grows more insistent, her fingers experimenting with different motions—slower, then harder, her grip adjusting as she works. She spits into her palm, using the moisture to ease the friction, her breath warm against your ear.

"Come on," she whispers, her voice a low, teasing murmur. "I bet girls don’t touch your dick very often. You should take this opportunity. I’m not young anymore but I know what I’m doing, you can be sure of that."

She persists for a minute, her touch relentless, before suddenly pulling away.

"Wait here, I’m coming back." she says.

Where else can you go? With your bare leg, there is no way you’re going out of the toilets like this. Fecthing your wet trousers from the sink is also obviously is out of the equation.

She quickly comes back and knock. You hesitate for a brief moment before opening the door. What choice do you have? She’s got you in the palm of her hands. And she probably come back with your pants since she should be convinced you can’t get hard, let alone come, by now.

As soon as she enters the toilets her hand dips into her pocket, and she produces a small, wrapped object.

"Eat this," she says, pressing it into your palm.

"What is it? Did you bring my pants?" you ask, eyeing the unfamiliar pill.

"Chinese medicine," she replies, her tone reassuring but also dismissing your second question. "Mostly ginger. And other things... Don’t worry, everything is natural."

You swallow it dry, the bitter taste lingering on your tongue. Almost immediately, a warmth spreads through you, the ginger already working its magic.

{if game:grower=0}

You are stiff, but not much bigger.

"Ok, I can work with that." she says. Does she sound a bit disappointed?

{elseif game:grower=1}

"Look how much you’ve grown my dear, I knew you had it in you." she says with an endearing voice.

{endif}

Your skin prickles, your pulse quickens, and the woman resumes her efforts with a steady pace and a knowing smile on her face.