Fly home.

The next morning, the two of you fly home. The plane hums around you, the dull roar of the engines a poor distraction from the ache between your legs. Sitting for several hours does you no good, and you shift in your seat, wincing as the imprint of the previous night presses against your sole hole. Every movement and every slight shift sends a jolt of pleasurable pain through you. You're still so open, and the thought alone makes you harder, imagining her tracing circles around your hole with her fingers.

Halfway through the flight, the fasten seatbelt sign flickers on, and an announcement comes over the speaker that the plane has just hit turbulence. Gemma smiles at your obvious discomfort, seeing the outline of your erection pressing hard against your pants. The sudden jolts send fresh spikes of pleasure through your still-sensitive asshole. You grip the armrests, your knuckles white, as the movements send wave after wave of ripples through you, soft whimpers escaping from your lips.

A flight attendant notices your distress and assures you that turbulence is common and that there's no need to worry, but all you can think of is Gemma filling you again...