I can’t help but wonder who Mat’s sitting next to on the plane. I picture a sweet and sexy young thing. And what will they say to each other?

I remember the time we flew to Puerto Rico so Mat could get his honor. Mat was so sweet to give me the window seat. He suffered being squeezed in the middle. Funny, I can’t remember who sat on the aisle. I know it wasn’t a sweet young thing. Probably an ordinary businessman.

We played hangman, and I hung Mat three times in a row. I remember one of the words was suffragette. I think I thought of that because we were on a jet. Finally I took it easy on him and gave him a word I knew he’d get. Clitoris. He almost didn’t get it. Sometimes I can give Mat a hardon just by whispering naughty words in his ear. He’s so easy. My clitoris loves Mat’s tongue. Mat’s cock loves my cunt. My needy greedy cunt, aching with emptiness.

When the flight attendant came around to ask for drinks, there was clitoris under the almost hanged man. I wonder if she saw it.

I ordered cranberry juice. The can was this odd size, smaller than a Coke can but bigger than those little cans of juice you sometimes see, I guess for babies. I think we actually have some in the refrigerator. I get them whenever I think about it, all because ... It was good. I practically guzzled it. The thing about the can, my fingers went almost all the way around. About an inch shy, thumb to middle finger. I showed Mat. “You know what this means?” I asked him. He shook his head. I gave him a hint. Cocktail. He still didn’t get it. I whispered the answer in his ear. “The can is almost exactly as wide as your cock.”

He did one of his semi-silent snortles.

“True,” I said. Then I squeezed the can, crushing it. I guess I hadn’t guzzled it all—some juice splurched up. We both laughed. I whispered in Mat’s ear. Cranberry cocktail cum. Mat mopped up the spill with the little napkin.

I whispered in his ear. Do you have a hardon yet?

I whispered in his ear. I have to pee.

I whispered in his ear. I’m going to masturbate in the toilet.

I whispered in his ear. I’m going to make myself come.

Then I excused myself.

The businessman stood up to let me pass. I’m pretty sure he had a hardon. Maybe he saw my clitoris.

I can almost hear Mat’s semi-silent snortle.

In the toilet I peed and then I touched myself. It didn’t take long.

I remember thinking, just before I came, that the metal surfaces were all so dull, reflections a pewtery blur, as if underwater. It was a good come. I made sure my fingers were wet. When I got back to my seat I told Mat I had a surprise for him. “Can you guess?” I asked. I think he knew but didn’t want to say. He can be so shy. I took pity on him. I brushed my fingers under his nose. Maybe that wasn’t taking pity, but he liked it. He held my hand there. Then he kissed my fingers. So sweet. But he better not be letting any sexy young thing whisper in his ear.

I’m going to go to the bathroom now.

I’m going to run the shower hot and hard, getting the room all steamed up, the mirror fogged.

I’m going to pee.

I’m going to masturbate.

I’m going to watch myself doing it in the fogged up mirror until I come.

See if I don’t.