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I shrug, the picture of casual indifference. “It’s not Friday. I can’t make you get me off. Might as well enjoy the merriments on the menu.”
She makes a cute little annoyed noise, halfway between a snort and ahumph. “Well, I wouldn’t want to disturb you. I’ll go to the bedroom.”
“What would be the fun in that?” I tighten my hold on her thigh. “Come on, Morgan. I get to watch you play every week. Don’t you want to watch me?”
“Not particularly,” she grumbles.
That’s exactly why she needs to.
Sasha saunters over in alluring catwalk strides and gets to her knees in front of me, working on my belt and zipper to free my erection.
With my left hand, I take a fistful of the straight platinum hair cut in a severe bob. “Are you clean, Sasha?” I check.
“Of course. Mr. Volkov has us tested periodically. My last one was two weeks ago.”
“Good little whore, aren’t you?”
“Very good, sir,” she purrs, bringing her lips to the tip of my cock.
She runs her tongue over it before wrapping her hot mouth around my shaft.
She’s rather pretty, this blonde, but my eyes drift to Morgan, and my fingers slide from her thigh, higher, seeking her heat. She’s wearing a cute little denim skirt today, so I have easy access to her lacy panties—and the soaked folds beyond.
God, she’s so drenched. Some part of her likes this. Now she just needs to admit it to herself.
Plenty of women fantasize about being shared by a bunch of guys—just like men drool over the idea of being lost in a sea of tits—but Morgan’s barely begun to accept her own desires. Watching me explore with another woman challenges her limits.
The flight attendant is fucking good with her tongue, and her throat, and her hands around my balls. She knows just how to make it last, bringing me close and letting go of my cock to slap my balls and violently bring me back to Earth. I’m grunting, sputtering, and cursing her name as my fingers dive in and out of Morgan. My fist around Sasha’s hair tightens. I’m tempted to hold her into place and fuck her mouth to my heart’s content, but that would defy the purpose. I don’t want to come for her.
Bex comes back minus her uniform, dressed only in a cupless, sheer black bra—freeing her heavy tits—a garter belt and a matching thong, open at her crotch to give us a full view of her bare pussy. She’s carrying a tray with my order. She holds a bottle shaped like a seashell up.
“I have lemon and salt if you’d like it,” she announces, setting the tray aside. “But it’s a Ley Ultra Premium. I would recommend drinking it neat. It’s delicious.”
My mouth waters. “I’ll have it neat, then.”
Bex is so short, she barely even has to bend forward for her tits to reach my mouth although I’m seated. I eagerly wrap my mouth around one of her hard nipples, letting go of Sasha’s hair to grasp her other breast. Sasha grows more relentless around my cock. I hiss, my balls tightening.
So, so close.
Bex pours the priceless tequila between her tits, letting it drip along her ebony skin. I lick my tongue along the liquid first, for a taste. It is fucking good. I shove my head between the huge breasts, and suck against her skin. She tastes like sunshine and liquor.
Fingers fucking Morgan’s pussy faster and faster, I feel my hips move up in and out of Sasha’s mouth uncontrollably, as I suck and lick and paw Bex’s tits.
Heaven can’t be better than this.
My body’s almost out of control, so desperate for release, but I manage to make myself pull Sasha’s hair to get her out of the way, and let go of the delightful breasts. I withdraw my hand from Morgan, and drag her off her seat, to my lap, aligning her hips so she’s right against me.
She looks into my eyes, hers flashing silver as she lowers herself on me. I’m close. So very close. It's a battle against myself not to come as her cunt tries to milk me—one I almost lose. I crash my mouth against hers hungrily. There’s very little civility in how I fuck her. It’s brutal, bestial, each thrust wild, uncontrolled, starting before the next one’s fully sunk in. The primal coupling doesn't last more than five dirty, noisy, wet minutes before I explode so hard it's fucking painful.
When I'm done catching my breath, I'm still inside Morgan, and she slowly rocks her hips backward and forward, though I'm only sporting a semi. She didn't come. Not surprising, given how fucking ready I was—I didn’t last.
I don't like it. I prefer making her come—and again, andagain—before me. Little as I might enjoy failing to please her, it's perfect today.
I grin and smack a last, short-lived kiss on her lips, before shifting her legs over me, so she's facing my side first, then I spread them. Morgan's now straddling me with her back to me, her pretty, full cunt on display for the flight attendants.
Bex and Sasha returned to the bar, to not be in the way.
I call them back, crooking a finger. "We're going to need that bottle again, Bex."
