Next stop: Jamaica

The plane journey from Japan to Jamaica was a seventeen hour flight. Yep, not remotely short. A whole day of being on a plane and sleeping. Cassandra needed it especially. She had wrung herself out training and fucking him.

Aaron pulled a blanket on her and cast a small spell so she would have nice dreams. Cassandra deserved it. She always did.

The moment Aaron and the plane landed into Sangster International Airport, the heat of Jamaica wrapped around them like a thick, sun-soaked blanket. Cassandra stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh, while Aaron, ever composed, adjusted the strap of his bag and took in the bustling terminal with a slow glance.

“Welcome to Jamaica!” a flight attendant chirped as they passed. Aaron gave a polite nod. Cassandra noticed the way the woman’s eyes lingered on him just a little too long. He was an attractive young man. She couldn’t blame a woman for being interested.

Here we go.

They approached the security checkpoint, and as expected, the second Aaron stepped forward, the energy shifted. The officers—mostly ebony women and all strikingly beautiful—perked up instantly. Their eyes did a quick scan of his broad shoulders, sculpted chest, and that calm, effortless confidence that seemed to radiate from him.

“Step forward, sir,” one of the female officers said, her voice smooth like honey.

Aaron moved forward as told. Cassandra, standing just behind him, was already biting her lip to hold back a laugh. She could already read their body language and what they wanted.

“Please place your bag on the conveyor belt,” another officer instructed.

Aaron did as told and the real fun began.

“Sir, I’m going to need you to take off your belt.” The short security woman’s dark brown eyes locked onto Aaron’s with a smirk. She was four foot eleven and very much a woman with a strong personality.

Aaron complied, sliding his belt out in one slow motion. Cassandra let out a soft giggle.

“I’m going to have to do a quick pat-down,” the short officer continued, stepping close—real close.

“Of course,” Aaron said.

The woman ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, and then—oh, she took her time when she reached his torso. She even lingered, pressing just a little more than necessary. By the time she reached his waist, Cassandra could swear she saw her lick her lips.

She slid her hands over his hips before bringing them to the front, brushing—oh, not brushing—cupping him through his pants for a solid second longer than needed. She felt it—his flaccid dong. She blinked, gaped, and then looked up.

“Sir, you seem… very well-equipped.”

The officer failed to hide the shock.

Aaron looked down and gave a stoic nod. “I get that a lot.”

“I’ll be doing a second pat-down. Permission granted?”

“...sure.”

The short woman’s second round was even more thorough if that was possible. Hands down the back, lingering at his lower spine, before slowly—painstakingly—gliding back up. Then she crouched, hands along his thighs, and—oh, she was eye-level with the goods now. Cassandra swore she saw the woman’s pupils dilate.

“You work out, don’t you?” the officer mused.

Aaron, looking as indifferent as ever, nodded. “I do.”

“I can tell,” she murmured. “Do you mind if I…? Just in case there’s a weapon.”

Cassandra snickered. This was too much. Aaron decided to tease this lady and had his dick twitch. The sudden appearance of a bulge shocked her.

“O-oh. Oh my…now that’s what I call a soft weapon.”

Her hands went down on the outline of his schlong. She didn't shake his hands. She shook hands with his cock. A special handshake. Being four foot eleven, it was a handshake afforded only to her.

But once she was done, she stepped back. “You may go.”

And Cassandra? The Jamaican woman only winked and whispered, “You’re a lucky gal.”

“Thanks.”

Aaron shook his head as they made their way toward baggage claim, already sensing the stares following them.

The biggest cock in Gotham City had arrived in Jamaica.