Chapter 20: Back to London in First Class with Ellie and Others

This trip to the West Coast had already been fucking spectacular: some of the best sex of my life, leaving me with a treasure trove of sexy stories to replay on long winter nights. From ripping a barely legal virgin actress open behind a bush at Anna’s birthday party, to her jaw-dropping confessions about being broken in by older, hungry men as a reckless teen, to the sheer depravity of breeding Kaia while her clueless husband was just feets away. But as the taxi crawled through LA’s impossible traffic toward the airport, I knew the dirtiest chapter was yet to come.

The return flight would be nothing short of legendary, the grand finale to this one-million-dollar indulgence, the ultimate proof of what real power looked like: the power to twist even the purest, most chaste women into desperate, sex-crazy sluts. I had Angela book the entire first-class cabin of an Airbus 380 from a Middle Eastern airline, all to bring to life the most obscene fantasy imaginable.

Angela had tapped into her network of advertisers and clients, ensuring the plane would be packed with ambitious, eager young models, along with a professional football and basketball team: prime, muscle-bound bulls with stamina to spare. As I surveyed the pre-boarding lounge, taking in the lineup of fresh meat and towering athletes, I knew the plan had come together even better than I’d hoped.

There were no children, underage girls, or grandmothers on the flight. Most importantly, the mostly Arab flight attendants were all female, and all very fuckable, even by my high standards. Their uniforms hugged their tight, slim bodies, their short skirts showcasing sexy, endless legs, their polished smiles barely concealing the quiet submission that screamed virginal innocence. They would put up no resistance to my plans.

Among the passengers were some real stunners, babes with tits so huge they looked like they might tip over, tight little asses you could cup in one hand, young, fresh-faced girls with perky, high-riding tits pressing through their tops, waists so tiny my hands could wrap around them, legs that went on forever. Every inch of them was designed for pleasure, and this flight was going to prove it.

I marveled at how nature could produce such an endless variety of stunning, fuckable women. It’s incredible how females can be sexy in so many different ways: tight-bodied, barely legal teens with blossoming A-cup tits and innocent, wide-eyed looks; busty, hourglass-shaped Barbie dolls with DD-cup jugs that strain against their tops; tall, fair-skinned Scandinavian and Russian bombshells; petite Asian and Indian beauties with delicate curves; thick-lipped, big-breasted black African vixens; and the full spectrum of European babes, from freckled Irish redheads to dark-skinned Italian seductresses.

On a previous flight, I had already pushed the limits of how many cocks a tight little cunt could take over the span of a long-haul journey. Charu had come out on top, her greedy hole swallowing over fifty loads. But this time, I wanted more, wanted to up the stakes by making sure the men weren’t just pounding one slut but rotating between several, passing them around like toys. That way, even with the pathetic stamina of most guys, they’d still manage to bury themselves in a few holes before spilling their load.

But the goal wasn’t just to increase the number of male fuck-partners for a few insatiable sluts, setting new records for intercontinental cock-draining. My aim was to get everyone on board inducted into the Mile High Club, men and women alike. The real thrill? They wouldn’t just be fucking, they’d be doing it with complete strangers, getting lost in raw, anonymous lust. And for the female passengers, it wouldn’t just be about fun; most of them would leave with a fresh little souvenir growing inside them, a reminder they’d carry for months to come.

If I could pull this off, it would be the biggest sex orgy in history, an entire A380 transformed into a high-altitude fuckfest, every passenger tangled up with a stranger, every single one landing in London with the most mind-blowing flight experience imaginable. No one would forget it, the men taking turns on the hottest sluts they’d ever laid eyes on, the women shuddering through their first tx34-enhanced orgasms, their bodies surrendering to pleasure beyond anything they’d ever known. Everyone on board lost in a frenzy of pure, unfiltered passion, riding out their wildest dreams at cruising altitude.

The anticipation made time blur, my mind racing through the scene that was about to unfold. The thought of it sent a pulse of heat straight to my core. An entire plane filled with moans, bodies grinding together in desperate lust, women gasping as they were taken over and over again, men groaning as they emptied themselves into eager, dripping holes. I let my gaze drift over the passengers, stripping them in my mind, imagining each one in the throes of orgasm, faces contorted in bliss, muscles tensed, lips parted in breathless cries of pleasure.

I made my move after I had been served the first meal. Sitting alone in first class had its perks. I was the first to be served on the entire plane, and I devoured my meal quickly, eager to get started. My eyes trailed the pretty first-class attendant as she moved up and down the aisle, her crisp uniform clinging to her curves, the sway of her hips teasing with every step. These stewardesses were the gateway to keeping this well-oiled machine running smoothly, their prim professionalism just waiting to be stripped away. Before the airborne bacchanal could begin, I had to break them in. They had access, authority, and most importantly, bodies screaming to be used and bred. If I played this right, they wouldn’t just be serving drinks. They’d be offering up every inch of themselves.

But before I could start on them, I had to finalize my plans.

While the rest of the passengers were still occupied with their meals, I took the opportunity to survey the economy cabin, descending the stairs to the lower deck. Seven hundred bodies packed into tight rows, three hundred sixty men and three hundred forty women, a perfect balance for what I had planned. I moved slowly through the aisles, my eyes scanning over them, taking my time, sizing up my options, focusing on the females for now. I was glad that, by some miraculous stroke of luck, there were no underage passengers on board, sparing me the effort of ensuring they were kept away from the adult activities about to unfold.

I noted down seat numbers, marking the ones who stood out: the most fuckable, the ones with athletic, youthful bodies built for sin, the kind men would kill to sink their cocks into. Tight curves, perky tits straining against their tops, thighs begging to be spread. Some had truly massive tits on small, delicate frames, their heavy, wobbling flesh defying gravity, as if nature itself had crafted them to be walking wet dreams. A feat of biology so perfect, so obscene, it was impossible not to feel grateful for its existence.

In short, I ended up with a selection of barely legal, innocent-faced sluts, their youthful bodies made for sin, walking sex-dolls built to be devoured. At first glance, they had that dangerous jailbait look, too young, too sweet, too tempting. But looks could be deceiving. Every single one of them was past eighteen, just enough to be safe, and perfectly ripe, their sexy bodies at their peak, practically screaming to be taken before further maturing dulled their youthful perfection and innocence turned to experience. None of them had the slightest clue what was coming, oblivious to the fact that soon they’d be moaning, dripping, their legs trembling as they were stretched open and filled.

The power of selection was intoxicating, the sheer control of deciding who would be turned into the perfect little fuck-dolls for the men on this flight, offered up in the gangbang I had planned for them. What I was looking for was my handpicked team of thirty-six playthings, my “working girls,” the foundation of the flight’s festivities. Every single one was young, tight, and built for this, their bodies a flawless blend of supple curves and firm, athletic muscle, the kind of toned perfection that hinted at both endurance and flexibility. Most were barely past eighteen, none over twenty-one, each an absolute knockout, their beauty on a level that would make men drop to their knees.

When I returned to my seat, the stage was set. Now, it was time to begin and get my helping hands on board, so to speak.

Under some pretext, I gathered all the stewardesses in first class, the elegant Arab beauties who had been gliding up and down the aisle with their practiced, demure smiles. Their navy-blue uniforms hugged their slender waists, their blouses stretched tightly over perky, high breasts, modesty preserved only by the top buttons straining against the fabric. Long, black hair, some in neat buns, others cascading over their shoulders, framed perfect, delicate features, their large brown eyes carrying that subtle mix of mystery and submission.

They had been so composed, so untouchable, their roles demanding a level of professionalism that had kept them just out of reach. But that was about to change.

With a casual flick, I engaged the nebulizer, releasing an invisible mist of tx34 into the air around them. The effect was immediate. Their composed demeanor started to crack as their chests rose and fell more rapidly, their eyes darting to each other, fingers twitching at their sides as the heat spread through them. It didn’t take long before one licked her lips, a nervous, unconscious movement that betrayed the growing hunger inside her.

The redhead among them, one of the rare Western hires, shifted on her feet, exhaling sharply as she ran a hand over her massive tits, so large that the uniform blazer, meant for petite Arab frames, was forced to stay open.

“God ... why do I feel like this?” she muttered, cupping the heavy swell of her breasts, her nipples already stiff and straining against the thin fabric of her blouse. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing shallow, her body already responding to the tx34 in full force.

The youngest, a delicate beauty with dark curls framing her face, let out a breathless laugh. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her hands running up her own sides as if trying to contain the heat rising in her body. Her gaze flickered to the others, her cheeks flushed. “Is it just me, or do you all feel the heat too?”

I smirked, leaning back in my seat, letting my gaze travel lazily over them. “Why don’t you all take off those blouses? It’s just us here, and I certainly wouldn’t complain...”

The curvy redhead giggled, swaying slightly as her hands ran over her stomach, nails dragging lightly down the fabric of her uniform. “I don’t think that stripping for a customer, even in first class, is allowed ... but I don’t care,” she whispered, eyes sparkling with arousal as she met my gaze. A slow, wicked smirk spread across her lips as she unfastened the hook of her bra. “I just know I really, really don’t want to be wearing this uniform anymore.”

Their hesitation melted almost instantly. The tallest one, Zara, if I remember correctly, reached for the buttons of her blouse, fumbling them open with eager, trembling fingers. Her breath hitched as the cool air hit her heated skin, the lacy black bra underneath doing little to hide her stiff, aching nipples.

“Let’s do it, girls,” she murmured, her voice huskier than before, thick with need. She glanced at the others, a wicked glint in her eye. “We just pretend it never happened.”

The others exchanged glances, then as if some silent agreement had been made, buttons popped open, skirts slid down smooth, dark thighs, and soon they stood there in nothing but scraps of lace and flushed, needy skin, bodies already aching to be touched.

Their hands roamed over each other, exploring, touching, their arousal only deepening as I coaxed them into the next step. Lips met lips, tongues flicked eagerly, and soon, delicate fingers slid between their glistening thighs, stroking, circling, teasing moans from one another as they gave in completely.

I leaned back, watching with satisfaction as they worked themselves up into a fevered frenzy, grinding against each other, gasping and writhing. Their arousal dripped down their thighs, their bodies begging for something more. That was my cue.

Stepping forward, I let my cock spring free, thick and bare, the sight of it making their breath hitch. The first one I pulled toward me, a petite girl with full lips and a slender, dancer’s body, gasped as I pushed her back onto the nearest seat, spreading her open. Her thighs trembled as I slid inside her tight, soaking cunt in one smooth stroke, her body arching as she moaned out loud, her nails clawing at my shoulders. I took my time, dragging my cock through her wet heat, stretching her inch by inch, making her gasp and shudder beneath me.

The others watched, eyes glazed with lust, their hands between their legs as I fucked her into a writhing mess. Her breath hitched, muscles tensing, and then she came hard, her walls clamping around me, a high, broken cry spilling from her lips.

I pulled out, slick with her arousal, and moved on to the next. They were impatient now, pushing closer, eager to feel the same bliss, to have their aching bodies filled and fucked. The next one straddled me, her dark curls falling over her face as she sank down onto my cock, her walls gripping me like a vice. She rode me hard, desperate, grinding down as I gripped her hips, letting her use me until her body spasmed and she collapsed against my chest, panting.

I took them one after another, teasing, stretching, pushing them to the brink until they shattered, their bodies writhing, slick and trembling, every ounce of tension drained away. Some came with their legs wrapped tight around me, others with their tongues buried between each other’s thighs, moaning and gasping as they collapsed in bliss. By the time I leaned back, watching them pant and shiver, there was nothing left of their former restraint, only satisfied, obedient women, ready to follow my every command.

The first part of my plan was complete. Now, they would serve a new purpose.

I had them get dressed again, but not completely. Their bras and panties stayed with me, a private little souvenir, leaving their bodies bare under their uniforms, nipples rubbing against stiff fabric, wet, used pussies left open to the cool air. A constant reminder of what they had become.

Then, I gave them their first real task. They were to bring up my team of thirty-six “working girls,” the ones who would take on the men, one after another. Thirty-six tight, young sluts for three hundred and sixty cocks might seem ambitious at first glance, but with just ten each on average, it was well within their limits. I knew exactly what girls like these could handle over the course of a long-haul flight. More than just ten. Much more.

The idea was simple: the men would rotate, each one sampling multiple of them, feeling different tight, eager holes clench around them before finally losing his load deep inside one lucky slut. A full-blown carousel of sex, where no man stayed with one woman for long, partners shifting constantly, bodies intertwining in an endless cycle of pleasure. The girls remained sprawled out, legs spread wide, their bodies slick with arousal, their mouths gasping for breath as one man after another took his turn. Cocks buried deep, thrusting hard, stretching them open before withdrawing, only for the next eager shaft to slide in and claim them. No downtime, no breaks, just an unrelenting rotation of hard bodies and willing, soaked cunts, each girl being filled again and again, moaning as they were used exactly as they were meant to be.

To ensure my working girls were fully complicit in my plans, a stewardess stationed at the spiral staircase took care of them first, spraying everyone who passed with a fine mist of tx34 under the guise of an “antiseptic” treatment. Any lingering hesitation evaporated as the drug took hold, leaving them flushed, shivering, their pupils dilated with overwhelming need.

Without hesitation, they followed the instruction to strip, their inhibitions and shyness completely erased by the drug coursing through their veins. Within minutes, they stood before me, bare and exposed, their young, toned bodies more erotic than anything a porn site could offer. Smooth curves, perky tits, tight, untouched flesh now on full display, their excitement palpable in the way they shifted, giggled, and exchanged glances, already eager for what was to come.

I let them squirm for a moment, then held out my hand with a smirk. “Before you get a taste of what’s coming, there’s a small tradition I’d like to start. Sign your panties and hand them over. Think of it as your ticket to the real fun.”

There was no hesitation. The girls squealed and laughed, giddy with anticipation, each one eagerly scrawling their name onto the flimsy fabric of their discarded panties before placing them in my waiting palm. Some went further, pressing soft, teasing kisses onto the lace, their lips brushing over the fabric as if marking it with a promise. Their eyes gleamed with excitement, bodies humming with need, their breaths coming quicker as they waited for the next step.

The moment the last pair was collected, I unzipped, letting my cock spring free, thick and aching, its sheer size drawing gasps and wide-eyed stares. Their giggles quieted, replaced by hushed whispers and looks of awe as they took it in, their flushed bodies instinctively pressing closer.

“Now,” I said, locking eyes with the nearest girl, my voice low and commanding, “turn around and spread your legs.”

A cheer went up, excited, breathless, eager. They knew exactly what was coming, and they wanted it. In seconds, they formed a neat line, each of them bending forward, hands braced against the seats to give easy access to their delicate tunnels. Their bare asses were perfectly presented, smooth, tight, quivering with anticipation as they glanced back at me, their eyes filled with lust.

I moved from one to the next, my hands gripping their taut asses, sometimes reaching around to grope their tits, feeling their nipples pebble under my touch. My focus was on stretching them open, preparing their bodies for what was to come. Their wetness coated my shaft as I sank in, inch by inch, feeling their tight, virgin-soft walls clench around me before loosening, molding to the shape of my cock. Each one was more eager than the last, moaning as they were spread wide, their bodies instinctively arching to take me deeper.

It was thirty-six times the same delicious feeling: my thick pole forcing their pussies open, their slick heat gripping me as I bottomed out, their inner walls clinging desperately as if trying to hold me inside. Some gasped, others moaned openly, a few letting out breathy little cries as I pushed into them fully, feeling their inner organs shift around my length. The pleasure was intoxicating, my cock throbbing with the effort to hold back, especially when I realized I was popping more than a few cherries along the way, their innocence stolen in a single, deep thrust.

It took all my willpower not to explode in them, to keep moving, to keep stretching and preparing their bodies for the relentless pounding that awaited them in the orgy ahead. But when I reached the last one, a well-stacked eighteen-year-old with a body built like a dream, toned from years of athletics, she hesitated for just a moment. Looking over her shoulder with wide, uncertain eyes, she bit her lip, her breath hitching as she felt my tip press against her entrance.

“Careful, I’m a virgin,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the heavy breaths and moans around us.

Her admission sent a fresh jolt of heat through me. Her tightness was unreal, her muscles clamping down like a vice as I pushed inside, breaking through the last fragile resistance she had left. She shrieked the moment her hymen gave way, her breath catching in a sharp gasp, but the pain barely registered before her body betrayed her. A wave of pure, uncontrollable pleasure crashed over her, her first penetration triggering an earth-shattering orgasm, an intensity only a fresh, untouched barely legal teens like her, enhanced by the aphrodisiac rush of tx34, could experience.

Every muscle in her toned body went rigid, her abs tightening into sculpted ridges, her thighs quivering as if electrified. Her back arched violently, her head snapping back, eyes rolling as pleasure overtook her completely. It was raw, primal, a reaction so overwhelming that for a moment, she looked utterly possessed.

That was it. That was where I lost the fight. Her smoking-hot, athletic body took everything I had, milking my release as I came deep inside her, my grip tightening on her hips as her body shuddered beneath me, overwhelmed by the new sensations flooding through her. Her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering, and then, through her gasps, came the words that sent another jolt of pleasure straight through me.

“Give it all to me,” she moaned, her voice trembling. “Fill me up, fuck, I want it so bad ... I need it.” Her legs tightened around me, her nails digging into my arms as she rocked against me, desperate to take in every last drop, as if she could pull it deeper inside her just by sheer force of will.

But she wouldn’t be the only one to claim it.

Of course, I made sure to circle back to every one of them, making sure none was left empty. I pulled out of my panting cum-dump, my cock slick and dripping with the thick load I had just pumped deep inside her. Without hesitation, I moved to the next girl, pushing deep into her soaked heat, making her gasp as I smeared her insides with the fresh seed still clinging to my shaft.

Quickly afterwards, I withdrew, moving back into my original target to collect more of the leaking mess before plunging into the next girl, smearing my seed deep inside her, spreading the little swimmers I had just pumped into the first. One after another, I made sure their tight cunts were properly coated, inseminated, primed for carrying my child.

When all of them had received some of my sperm, I distributed them among the twelve beds, three in each first-class cabin. The sight was pure decadence: thirty-six perfect young bodies sprawled across the luxurious bedding, their skin flushed, their legs still trembling from what they had just endured. Some lay on their backs, their thighs lazily spread, fingers idly tracing the slickness between their legs, while others curled up, still catching their breath, grinning at one another in anticipation of what was to come.

I had plenty of condoms for everyone and instructed the girls to collect what they milked out of their targets in a small box I provided for each. The excitement on their faces was unmistakable: this wasn’t just about getting fucked, it was about winning.

“These filled and sealed condoms will decide our champion,” I announced, pacing between the beds as they listened, their naked bodies stretched out like eager offerings. “Whoever drains the most balls will be crowned the fuck-queen of this flight, the ultimate sex toy, the true man-eater.”

A wave of excited giggles and hushed whispers spread through them, some exchanging cocky smirks, others already strategizing how to take the lead. A few bit their lips, eyes gleaming with raw hunger, clearly relishing the challenge.

One of them, a lithe brunette with legs that went on forever, licked her lips and grinned. “So ... does that mean we can take as many loads as we want?”

I smirked. “That’s exactly what it means.”

Another, a busty blonde with eager, bouncing tits, laughed as she rolled onto her stomach, kicking her legs up behind her. “Hope the guys have some stamina, because I’m not stopping till I win.”

The contest was set. Now, all that was left was to unleash them. The girls were primed, dripping, and ready, their bodies aching for what was to come. It was time to bring in the male passengers.

I ordered the stewardesses to bring up the first batch of thirty-six men, making sure they passed through the same “antiseptic” treatment on their way up. It was a simple precaution. Most wouldn’t need any convincing once they saw the feast spread out before them, but why take chances? Why risk hesitation, second thoughts, or misplaced loyalty to the women waiting below? A light dose of tx34 ensured they embraced the moment fully, stripping away any lingering doubts or hesitation. While the drug had little physical effect on men, it was enough to erase inhibitions, silencing any last traces of restraint, any resistance to indulging in raw, reckless sex, if such resistance had ever existed in the first place.

Upstairs, a pair of naked Arab stewardesses greeted them with sultry smiles and wandering hands, their flawless bodies on full display. No man entered without first feeling the press of soft, full tits against his chest or the squeeze of a firm, eager ass in his grip. Some had their cocks stroked to full hardness before they even reached the beds, others were led forward by teasing fingers wrapped around their shafts, guiding them like obedient beasts toward their prize.

The stewardesses dropped to their knees before them, rolling condoms onto their straining lengths with slow, deliberate strokes, whispering encouragement as their warm fingers lingered just long enough to send shivers up each man’s spine. Then, once every cock was sheathed and standing at full attention, came the final instructions.

“Each three of you get three girls among you,” one of the stewardesses purred, pressing her bare tits against the chest of the nearest man, her fingers trailing down to grip his cock through the thin layer of latex. “Share them and use them well. They will compete for your load, so rotate often, make them work for it.”

With that, they were led to their places. Every bed was set: three men, three eager sluts sprawled before them, bodies glistening, legs open, dripping and ready.

This wasn’t just about getting fucked, it was about winning. The men were expected to rotate frequently, cycling through all three, to sample each tight, desperate cunt several times before inevitably succumbing to the one who overwhelmed them first. That was where the game began.

The girls weren’t just lying there waiting to be taken. They fought for it, each one determined to break her partner before another could steal his prized load. They wrapped their legs around them, locking them in place, grinding hungrily, their soaked pussies squeezing down like a vice. Nails raked down their backs, soft lips brushed against ears, voices thick with lust whispering filth designed to shatter any remaining restraint. They moaned louder, moved harder, their bodies working with expert precision, dragging the men closer and closer to the inevitable breaking point, forcing them over the edge whether they wanted it or not.

“Please, baby, give it to me,” one panted, her lips brushing against his ear as she fucked herself onto his cock. “Fill me up. I want your cum inside me.” Her breath was hot against his skin, her nails raking lightly down his chest, her cunt squeezing him in perfect rhythm, milking him toward the inevitable.

Another took a different approach, locking eyes with his, her lips parted, her body quaking beneath him. She didn’t beg, didn’t whisper, she simply let go. Her back arched, her nails dug into his shoulders, and suddenly she was screaming, her pussy convulsing in violent spasms as she came hard, soaking his cock in a flood of wetness. She trembled, gasping for breath, her entire body shaking under him, every muscle fluttering uncontrollably. There was no need for words, her orgasm alone was the ultimate trigger, a primal, irresistible force demanding his release in return.

Some played dirtier. “Fuck the rubber,” one moaned, clawing at his back, voice dripping with desperation. “You should be breeding me. I need it. You want to see me walking off this plane knowing you put a baby in me, don’t you?”

As I walked around, I noticed one of those sluts who twisted it into something even darker. She didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She struggled. Her thighs wiggled as if trying to shake him off, her hands pushing weakly against his chest, her eyes wide with feigned protest. “No, it’s too much,” she whimpered, her voice trembling, her body writhing beneath him. “I ... I can’t...” But even as she squirmed, her soaked pussy betrayed her, tightening with every thrust, sucking him in deeper, dragging him toward the edge. It was an act, a cruel, calculated game, designed to push his darkest instincts into overdrive, to break the last thread of restraint he had left. Her breath hitched, her moans catching in her throat as she “fought” him, her struggle only making her tighter, hotter, better. And then, at the moment he snapped, at the moment he lost control, her lips curled into a wicked smirk.

The men tried to hold out, tried to rotate between them, but they were only human. The relentless teasing, the heated whispers, the tight, gripping cunts milking them for all they were worth, every girl fighting to be the one who broke them first, to make them surrender right inside her. Their control crumbled faster than they wanted, their groans turning desperate, their hips jerking in frantic thrusts as they lost the battle.