In the sky

Simply being "miles-high" felt like an understatement. You are thirty-thousand feet above land, which makes the prospect of having a piece of paper fly through the window of a pressurized aircraft all the more concerning.

At take-off, you expected to have a spacious row of seats all to yourself, only to be ruined this luxury when the final boarding partnered you with your sleepy friend, who remains crammed by the aisle. It's a night-time flight, most of the cabin is asleep in their seats, leaving you - and a few strangers quietly gabbing up front - the exception. You're wary, you want the flight to be over but you still have a couple of hours left before you land. The note catching fire replays in your mind, and you're left with countless fantasies about getting freaky in the air; one in full display of the flight attendants. You turn to your sleepy friend, snoring beneath the coat covering his face, probably to shroud the remaining ambient light.

"Excuse me," you politely whisper to the man. Getting up from your seat sounds like a godsend, just for a couple of seconds to stretch your legs. You can probably just squeeze past him, preventing the awkward encounter of waking the poor man. You unbuckle from your seat and - barely - manage to slide past the man's legs, grazing them with your own.

At the worst possible moment, a jolt of turbulence knocks you off balance (because, of course it does), landing you right on the man's lap. This was definitely a more awkward encounter than you'd hope, scrambling to your feet in the aisle, picking up his coat you pulled off his face in the fall, before spinning around to apologize. You're elated to find the man you had just straddled against the seat still sound asleep. Surely he must be awake, you thought, simply not saying anything to let you save face.

You place your hand on his shoulder, lightly shaking him to get his attention. No response. Is he dead? No, he's still snoring. Nothing you do can wake the man from his slumber, his face one of peaceful tranquility. Your mind goes back to the note once again, entertaining your fantasies about this stranger. It can't be real, can it? Your thoughts soon trail off as you place your hand on the man's leg, slowly pulling up to his groin. You're halfway in the man's pants before you realize what you're doing.

You're down on your hands and knees, gripping this strangers cock in your hand, surrounded by countless other individuals who don't for a second question why your giving a hand job to this man. A flight attendant passes you by without a care to what you're doing, and you're left to your devices, wondering if this is a dream, or if you should do more.