The Cute Girl Sitting Next to Her

“Only you, cutie.” I couldn’t help but pull her face back with my hand, to make sure she could see into my eyes when I said that. I wanted her to know my intentions and I wanted every thought in my head to soon be a reality for both of us.

“I—oh, I…” Her eyes were like green frisbees, rotating softly with each naughty image flashing through my own eyes. I took my thumb and brushed it against her lip, pulling it back revealed her white teeth and the hot, wet tongue nestled within. It took every part of me not to dive in on her at that very moment. We needed to be discreet.

“We have the bathroom behind us, what do you say we—find some privacy inside?” An absolute hefty gesture, enough to pulse the thick batter churning within my balls. It had been a week and a half since my last visit with Penny and it would seemingly be a much longer time now that I’d be flying back to Mable. My plans only included my time for the weekend, but with this being such a heavy family affair, it would be best to get myself off as early as possible.

Bethany could only mutter a groan in response, and I a gentle chuckle—she didn’t know what she had gotten herself into. We waited for the right moment and with our hands still coupled together I took her into the restroom; we skittered around the corner like mice narrowly avoiding the site of the human who’s home they had just invaded. The restroom door closed behind us and we were left in a tiny compartment with a thin mirror, possible stained from whatever persons had flown in the plane prior to our launch. The sink still smelt of a sweet, soapy aroma and made each moment that our tongues intermingled all the more enjoyable.

My hands crept below her shirt, latching onto her waist then ascending to the thick mounds hanging from above; she cooed in response. She was a cute girl, but undoubtedly a whore. She needed to be used, taken advantage of here on this plane—she should be left unable to stand and seen for the mess that she was. What would her daddy think of her then? I squeezed both of her breasts together and I took a single finger to both nipples and gently played with them. Her breaths were sharper and mixed with desperation and desire. Her tongue began lacking in movement as her mind addled and molded to whatever I wanted her to be.

“You’ve already, huh, taken the breath out of me.” She said with a smile, her cheeks blushed in a deep breath and her pupils had almost taken over the entirety of her eyes. “It almost makes me wonder, huh, what else you might take from me.”

I took my hands from her breasts and dropped them down to pull down my leggings. The thickened mass shot out in defiance of its confinement and slapped her against her side; the length of it ran along the sink’s surface and its cold chill collided with the thick warmth emitting from the shaft. Bethany’s eyes locked on to it and she couldn’t take them off of it, her mouth dropped low in response.

“I see you’re getting the gist of it.” I took two fingers and pressed them into her mouth—as much as I wanted to be rough with her, I could only see her as the type to run when acted upon aggressively. She needed to be eased into it. Her head jolted back at the sudden entry and I thought she might begin to regress as if repulsed by the sudden action. Instead, Bethany’s soft puckering lips wrapped tightly around them with the wetness of her tongue coating them in layers of potent saliva. I let her stir in the lustful act as she tasted the salt from my skin; my off hand reached under her skirt and rubbed against her clit. Damp panties, soaked in her own excitement was my reward as my palm pressed into her sex. Around my fingers she moaned, it was a long drawn out sound that made my cock twitch.

We danced around, changing positions, where now I leaned against the sink. Bethany lowered herself to where her head met my aching member. Knowing her skillful tongue, she ran it down the long sides of my shaft, making sure every inch of it was nice and slick. She kissed the head and teased me with light sucks that ended with audible popping sounds. She gives me a cute wink before taking it halfway down. She sputters around my girth and attempts to push herself further, but it is no use. She pulls herself free and the bathroom becomes a small echo-chamber of coughs and ragged breaths; spit beads down my cock head and from her mouth onto the floor.

As she collects herself, I wrap my hand around her thin ponytail and guide her back to her previous position. Eyes are wide with anticipation and lust, enamored with my sudden command she loosens her body to be better controlled by my strength. I had practice in this position many times before and I had met only a few gals back in my day who could actually take my full length (Penny being one of them, although she did need to be trained). Bethany would more than likely be the same and I wouldn’t expect much else from her. I dragged her back as both her hands clutched my thighs; more coughs escaped through her mouth and nose in the form of spit, but I gave her no rest. She was playing with the big dogs now, and if she didn’t watch out, she would be bred like one of the lowest bitches.

Back and forth she went, occasionally she would slap her palms against my thighs and mutter small protests with grunts and groans, but I didn’t relent. My cock had become slick as pig grease and the warm, wet interior of her mouth provided a safe space for each inch as I began to jam it deeper into her throat. I wanted to stay there, acting like my member was that of a person—they left home to work, just to come back home afterwards, stuck in a perpetual cycle that never ended. Each time thrusting inwards was the return, and each time back home felt more and more like heaven.

I threw my head in the air, ecstasy beginning to take over—I was going to cum soon and I had only the decision of where to do it. Should I ask Bethany? No, fuck that. A slut didn’t get to decide where I would cum. A part of me wanted to deposit every drop down her throat, to swallow me whole and carry me for the rest of the day—maybe I could give her my number afterwards and she could call me whenever she wanted to be filled up again. Then again, I could also paint her face with the sticky, white goo. It would be a bitch to get out and clean, but I would mark her as mine and everyone on the plane would know it.

There came a knock on the door, subtle but noticeable. A woman’s voice could be heard on the other side, “Is everything okay in there? Just wondering if anyone is sick or not.” The tone was serious, but caring. It could have been one of the stewardesses, or it could have been someone like a caring mother. But how would they react to a situation like this? Maybe they could also help with the current situation, maybe they could help teach this brat how to behave herself?