Part 3: First Class

"Ummm, Celeste?" Vicky said.

"What?"

"These uniforms..."

"Retro chic, I know, right?" Celeste said, her voice ringing with excitement.

The girls were standing together in front of the full length mirror in the dressing room at the 100 Years of Civil Aviation attraction. They were both dressed in 1960's stewardess uniforms: navy blue long sleeved mini-dresses with deep v-necks and lapels, gold braiding around the cuffs and large gold buttons all the way down the front. Vicky was staring at herself with uncertainty and mounting concern, but Celeste was smiling and turning left and right, admiring the narrow cut at her waist and the way the dress buttoned tightly over her breasts, pushing them together and showing a deep cleavage. Sliding her hands beneath the lapels, she lifted them a bit higher, revealing a sliver of nipple on each side.

"Too much?" she asked.

"No. I mean yes; I don't know," Vicky said distractedly. "Don't you think they're a bit..."

"A bit what? Gorgeous?"

"A bit ... well ... short?"

Celeste looked down at the hem-lines which just barely covered their bottoms.

"Well they are mini-dresses," Celeste rationalised. "And the sixties were pretty racy."

"Are you sure they're real?"

"Of course they're real," Celeste curled an admonishing eyebrow. "You're wearing one, aren't you?"

"No. Are they real airline uniforms?" Vicky explained. "They're not ... like ... porno fantasy costumes or something."

Celeste snorted laughter. "Oh, they're real, all right. I even met the lady who donated them. Seventy years if she was a day."

"Eeeeew! I didn't need that visual."

"Well she wasn't wearing one of them!" Celeste retorted, laughing. "In fact she looked very elegant and modest for a senior citizen. But, man, she must have rocked it in her day." Celeste adjusted the lapels until her nipples were hidden again.

Vicky still looked uncertain.

"Maybe they're supposed to be jackets," she suggested, brightening. "Are there any matching skirts back there?" She turned and eyed the racks of airline livery.

"Oh, stop being such a princess," Celeste teased. "They're plenty long enough. Now put your hat on; the boys will be getting restless."

They had left Spike and Bob out in the anteroom and Vicky thought they were probably discussing in hushed tones what might be about to happen. She herself wasn't sure what Celeste had planned until she saw the uniform; but now it was pretty clear. At least half of her concern and reluctance was that she didn't want to lose Bob to the beautiful redhead.

Vicky compared the two reflections in the mirror and found herself envious of Celeste's fuller breasts, flashing green eyes and cascades of long, glossy, auburn hair. At that moment she had her arms up and was winding those flaming locks into a tidy bun so that she could pin on the little stewardess's pillbox hat, when a flash of pink lower down caught Vicky's eye.

"Your knickers are showing below your 'plenty-long-enough-mini-dress'," she pointed to the reflection with a giggle. The gauzy gusset of Celeste's panties was peeking out from beneath the hem. She finished pinning on her hat and lowered her arms, but the mini-dress stayed up where it was.

"Oh my goodness," said Celeste with an amused grin, pulling down at the hem. "How did they ever load the overhead lockers in these things? They must have gotten groped six ways from Sunday."

"Maybe they wore tights?" Vicky guessed. "Or maybe they were just shorter than us?"

She experimentally lifted her arms to tie her own hair and was not surprised to see her own simple bikini briefs appear beneath the mini-dress. Her serious eyes met Celeste's in the mirror and to make a joke of it she did a sexy pout and snaked her body back and forth, running her hands through her hair and twisting her hips. The mini-dress rode higher still, exposing not just the gusset but the whole leg, all the way round to her hip.

Celeste copied, lifting her arms, provocatively grinding her hips and blowing kisses at the mirror until she too was flashing three of four inches of underwear and both of them were giggling uproariously. Vicky noticed with an unfamiliar thrill the way the sheer nylon of Celeste's panties clung to the smooth curves of her outer labia. She could see a tiny thatch of auburn pubic hair through the translucent fabric and realised jealously that Celeste was almost completely shaved.

Unbidden, an image popped into her head: Celeste's pussy open and wet, poised over Vicky's face as she ran her tongue over those soft, flawless lips; feeling their smoothness as she inhaled the sweet musk of Celeste's sex; and then kissing her there, tasting that sweetness on her tongue, straining and probing deeper into the heat of her womanhood to find the wellspring of that perfumed nectar.

Licking her lips guiltily, Vicky realised she had no idea how long she had been staring at Celeste's pussy. She looked up and saw the beautiful redhead watching her with an amused look.

"You're right," she said. "These things are too short. We can't be flashing our panties at the guys." With that, she slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her panties and pulled them down her long legs and off over the heels she had picked out for the costume.

"Well, that's better," she said matter-o-factly, both girls looking at the milky smooth lips of her pussy in the mirror as her dress stayed bunched up at her hips. "You can't see them at all now."

Vicky's heart was pounding. The idea of kissing a girl had never disgusted her, but even though she had thought about it several times, she hadn't really considered herself interested in the idea. Until now, that is.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, looking nervously into Celeste's eyes in the mirror.

"Does what hurt?"

"You know ... shaving ... down there."

"Only if you get it wrong," laughed Celeste. "Actually, I wax; but the principle's the same. It's awkward and easy to make a mess of it. Much better to get someone else to do it."

"Oh, I could never do that," Vicky's eyes flashed nervously as she shook her head.

"Nonsense," said Celeste. "It's nothing compared to what you let your gyno do. And it's so worth it."

"Worth it?"

"Hell yes. Guys can't go down on you quick enough!" she laughed; her whole face lighting up. "You let them get a hand in your panties and then watch the look on their face when their fingers slide over smooth, bare skin. They practically start drooling to get their tongue into you. And it's not just lick, suck, let's fuck: they stay down until you're coming like an early Christmas."

Vicky blushed at the mental picture inspired by her friend's profanity, still staring at her pussy in the reflection

Celeste turned to face her. "Close your eyes," she said quietly.

"What are you going to do?" Vicky asked nervously.

"I'm almost naked and I'm feeling modest. So just shut them, OK?"

Vicky closed her eyes and then felt Celeste gently take her left hand and cup it to her pussy. She gasped in surprise, but didn't pull back. She could feel the little crop of hair against the heel of her palm but everywhere else – all the way down to the tip of her middle finger somewhere near Celeste's anus – was completely, utterly smooth.

With her own hand cupped over Vicky's, Celeste slowly stroked up and down, Vicky's fingers slid with frictionless ease over the soft, hairless flesh until she felt her friend's juices welling onto to her fingertips.

"Now imagine you're a guy," Celeste said softly. "Imagine how that feels against your lips and your tongue."

"Mmmmm. I can imagine it," said Vicky, her voice catching as she struggled to control her breathing. And then, summoning up every shred of courage she could muster: "But I'm not imagining I'm a guy."

In lieu of a response, Celeste continued stroking herself with Vicky's hand, but applied the tiniest pressure over her middle finger. Vicky needed no further encouragement; she doubled the minute pressure and Celeste's swollen lips opened like a flower, instantly coating the length of Vicky's finger in her lubricating juices as it ploughed between the soft, hot folds of her womanhood.

"Wait," Celeste breathed as Vicky tried to go deeper. "Let me shave you first; the boys aren't going anywhere."

Vicky opened her eyes. Too nervous to speak, she bit her lower lip and nodded.

"Great, give me a moment." Celeste was all business again and transformed into a whirlwind of movement and grace that Vicky had already witnessed a couple of times. From her bag she pulled a foil sachet of sex lube, a miniature manicure kit containing a tiny pair of nail scissors, and - most improbably - a disposable razor.

"Girl Scout," Celeste explained as Vicky looked with surprise at the little collection. Taking control, she pushed Vicky back onto the settee; pulled her bottom forward right to edge and stripped off her cotton panties in one swift movement.

With Celeste kneeling in front of her, Vicky had a moment of second thought, holding her knees tightly together as Celeste placed her hands between the her thighs, smiling and nodding encouragement as she applied pressure to draw them apart. Her last reserves of resistance melting away, Vicky relaxed her thighs and allowed them to be opened wide, exposing the throbbing, swollen lips of her sex.

"Oh, this is not so bad," said Celeste gently as she combed the soft brown curls around Vicky's mons with her fingers and stroked over the wisps covering her outer labia. Quickly and deftly, she snipped away the longer hair with the nail scissors and then smeared lube over the remaining stubble, massaging it thoroughly to coat the base of each hair and making Vicky gasp with pleasure.

Working with long smooth strokes of the razor, she shaped a small triangle of hair about half an inch above the top of Vicky's slit and then shaved the rest clean. As she shaved down Vicky's swollen labia, she worked a finger into her soaking pussy so that she could pull back the lips to reach the hairs on the most sensitive inner edges.

As she wiped away the residue of lube and shaven hair, Celeste unconsciously put her finger in her mouth to lick off the juices that had been running freely from Vicky and coating her hand.

"Oh my God," she breathed, her green eyes widening in shock and pleasure as she licked down to the knuckle and around the webbing. "You taste like ... something ... pomegranates! It's pomegranates!"

"What!?"

"Oh, Christ, that is divine," she plunged her middle finger back through Vicky's slit, eliciting a surprised shriek from the younger woman, and then did the same with her own pussy on the index finger.

"Here!" she said, offering them both to Vicky lips. "Taste!"

"No!" Vicky cried in shock, but with more than a little curiosity.

"What?" Celeste looked surprised herself. "Have you seriously never tasted yourself?"

"No!" Vicky affirmed, eyes flashing with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Never!" She held up a hand to reject the proffered taste-test.

"Well stop being a baby," she admonished. "Go on! You'll thank me."

Curiosity overwhelmed embarrassment and Vicky held the redhead's hand up to her mouth. She could smell the musky aroma of sex on her fingers and felt a delicious shiver of anticipation coursing through her body. Closing her lips around the middle finger, she tasted herself first; heady and rich and nothing at all like anchovies – which she hated – and which popular opinion told her was how it was supposed to taste. She supposed that she could taste pomegranates ... maybe. Sucking the last of her own scent from Celeste's middle finger, she withdrew it with a small pop and held the index finder before her mouth.

"C'mon, it's not as nice as you," encouraged Celeste. "But it won't poison you."

Her heartbeat pounding in her ears like jungle drums, Vicky could feel more of her own juices welling and coating her hairless pussy lips. With a shuddering breath, she opened up to taste her new friend's sex, and closed her eyes as she placed just the fingertip on her tongue, prolonging the anticipation. With that single taste she was sold. She folded her lips and tongue around Celeste's finger with a low, animal moan; never in her life had she tasted anything so raw, primal and sexy.

Gently sucking and swirling her tongue over her friend's finger, she tasted salt and honeysuckle and extra virgin olive oil and something else that she couldn't identify, but which sang in her mouth and made her nipples tingle and her clitoris buzz. If she had to give it a name, she would say it was the taste of sex; not the taste of having sex, or the sweet afterglow of sex; but of sex yet to come; a potential future as yet unfulfilled. It was fresh and ripe and potent and strangely virginal.

"Oh God," Vicky breathed, "That's what I want."

"Are you sure you want to keep the boys waiting?" Celeste asked, taking Vicky's hand and helping her stand up.

"What boys?" Vicky breathed. A wave of passion that had been building inside her finally crested and broke, washing away the last of her reticence. Still holding Celeste's hand, she drew the redhead closer, lifting her chin and parting her lips to signal her intent. Celeste tilted her head to the side and met Vicky's kiss; her lips small and moist and supple and unlike any man Vicky had kissed.

Vicky's nerve endings celebrated the new sensation of kissing a woman. She closed her eyes and allowed her hands to chart the foreign territory of Celeste's body; her muscle-memory – so used to a man's physique – told her that this was all wrong, but her hard nipples and soaking pussy lips sang with the news that it was not just right; it was wonderfully, breathtakingly right. She moulded her fingers over Celeste's neat, round bottom and traced into her tiny, tight waist. She could feel the redhead's full, firm breasts pressing against her own through their uniforms, but it wasn't enough – she needed the feeling of skin on skin.

Panting and kissing with mounting vigour, Vicky whispered "Please" as she began unbuttoning Celeste's uniform and "Yes, God, yes" when the older woman responded in turn. Unbuttoned from neck to hem, the mini-dresses hung like coats; Vicky pulled the lapels open to gorge herself on Celeste's naked perfection.

Tentatively at first, she touched her body to Celeste's, relishing the hard points of her nipples as every movement traced tiny arcs and swirls of erotic sensation on the sensitive undersides of her own breasts. As their bellies touched, Vicky stopped breathing and focussed all of her attention on her pussy; shaved and open and soaking wet and now just a few millimetres from the moist, pink folds of Celeste's. Vicky felt the slightest brush of friction as their tiny patches of pubic hair met – so close now – it may have been imagination, but she thought she could feel the heat radiating from Celeste's molten core.

And then their lips touched. Instinctively, both women arched upwards to make contact at the steaming centre of their sex. Whimpering with passion and desperation, Vicky moved from the hips, brushing her engorged inner folds against Celeste's, feeling the wetness transfer both ways and coat their smooth outer lips with a mixture of their naturally perfumed lubrication.

Unable to resist any longer, Vicky grasped Celeste's naked bottom in both hands and ground their pussies together, opening herself up and scissoring Celeste's smooth lips into her own. Wonderful barrages of ecstasy exploded through her womanhood as Celeste touched down on her clitoris, and she rejoiced at the redhead's soft cries in her ear that told her she was doing the same.

"Let me do you," she breathed in Celeste's ear, reluctantly breaking the contact on her pussy, which was screaming for the sweet release of orgasm. She began kissing down Celeste's body; her neck, the points of her clavicle and the tops of her breasts before Celeste stopped her, drawing her back.

"No," she whispered. "We'll do it together." She turned Vicky around and held her from behind, one arm crossed over her flat stomach to gently cup one of her small breasts; the other reaching down to close over her sex, the tip of her middle finger nestled in the brunette's entrance as she kissed the hollow of her neck.

Celeste lowered them both to the floor and supported Vicky from behind as she lay on her back, folding back the lapels of her open dress like a blanket, her tanned and naked form laid out like a golden buffet for Celeste to feast upon.

Vicky looked up into the face of her friend; the beautiful female face that a few breathless moments from now would be the first woman to taste her, to take her, to enter her and – she knew this like she knew her own name – to drive her to an orgasm so intense she would never feel its equal from penetrative sex. Instinctively she drew her knees up to angle her pussy towards Celeste and with the flexibility of a gymnast parted them so that they were almost flat on the floor.

Now pointing straight up, the soft open cup of her entrance began to pool with her juices. Glistening with moisture at first, it was soon slick with her juices and by the time Celeste had kissed from Vicky's breathless lips to her small breasts – pausing to tease and suck the nipples and to offer her own full breasts to Vicky's eager lips – it was brimming with the sweet nectar of Vicky's sex.

As Celeste moved down over Vicky's young body, the brunette craned her neck up to kiss and trace the lines of her stomach and feel the muscles flutter nervously beneath her soft lips. She watched entranced as Celeste's glistening opening passed over her eyes, her intoxicating scent filling Vicky's senses; and then stopped, open and ready an inch above the younger woman's breathless lips.

There was a frozen moment of time when nothing happened, as if both women were waiting for a signal to begin, and then just as Vicky opened her mouth to kiss Celeste's pussy, she felt the tip of the other woman's tongue tracing over her smooth lips. Vicky followed her movements, working down one side, tasting her own smeared scent alongside the more potent, intoxicating perfume almost dripping from Celeste's molten core.

The exquisite, smooth softness of Celeste's pussy was unlike anything Vicky had imagined; it was unlike anything she could have imagined. Her limited experience with oral sex extended to a few pleasant but nervous episodes of cock sucking, where she was more concerned about the boy taking liberties and choking her than she was with delivering finely controlled pleasure to her partner. With a man, she wasn't exactly sure what she should be doing; apart from the one universal 'no teeth' rule, they seemed to like pretty much everything.

But this? This! This was indescribably different! Not that she was going lesbo any time soon, but pleasuring a pussy with a cock was like peeling an apple with a chainsaw. And better, she knew exactly what to do because Celeste was copying her; everything she did to Celeste, she felt the result in her own pussy in real time. Licking, sucking, kissing, probing, hard and soft, slow and fast; it was like the most perfect shopping experience where you could try on ten different pairs of shoes at once to see which one looks best ... and better ... which one feels best.

Gaining confidence, Vicky became more adventurous and moved from the wonderful softness of Celeste's smooth pussy lips into her glistening, hot slit, where that intoxicating sexual perfume was strongest. Starting with gentle probes above and to the side of Celeste's clitoris, she teased with soft, gentle strokes; working back and forth in slow arcs and establishing a rhythm with which Celeste quickly synchronised. In a surreal moment of transcendence, so perfectly timed was Celeste's feedback that Vicky felt as though she was licking her own pussy. Far from revolting her (which would have been her natural reaction), it felt overwhelmingly erotic and sent her heart racing even faster.

As much as she normally loathed direct stimulation of her clitoris, in her breathless passion she grazed her tongue lightly over Celeste's hard love-button, eliciting a muffled shriek of excitement from the redhead quickly followed by a reciprocal stroke over her own clitoris.

She expected a profound sensation and boy did she get it. But far from the normal sobering shock – like being pinched or doused with cold water – Celeste's tongue revved her like a race-tuned engine on the starting grid; raucous, animal and powerful but smooth and emotive at the same time. With sparks of pleasure firing and lighting up her core, Vicky's excitement stepped up to a new level and she felt the first stirrings of an orgasm tingling in her thighs and the base of her stomach.

Arching her back and giving voice to gasping cries of pleasure so that Celeste would know that she was close to coming, Vicky redoubled her efforts on the older woman's pussy, hoping that they would climax together. Hardening the web of muscles in her tongue, she probed into Celeste's tight opening, maintaining contact on her clitoris with her lower lip as she strained to go deeper.

Feeling Celeste's thigh muscles bunch against her ears, Vicky realised that the redhead was at least as close to coming as herself. She almost had time to worry about being left behind when she felt Celeste close her lips over her sensitive entrance and she was forced open by the pointed tip of her probing tongue. The casual, ambling approach of her own orgasm became a full, frenzied gallop as Celeste drove her tongue into Vicky's sex; the thick base stretching her wide open while the tip probed and danced, pressing and exploring – seemingly in every direction at once – in a way that a cock never could.

Vicky shrieked with passion and genuine surprise as the orgasm crashed through her; at one moment just a contraction in her core and then a light-speed explosion, igniting every nerve ending in her body in a blinding flash of pure ecstasy. Like fireworks, as the last embers of one sky-burst began to fade, another one – with different shape, colour and intensity – would tear through her again, contracting her muscles and arching her pussy into Celeste's merciless tongue.

Unconsciously copying her actions, Vicky dove deeply into Celeste's sweet centre, marvelling at the exquisite pressure of the redhead's tight canal pressing back against her insistent tongue as for the first time she truly began to appreciate the unique ecstasy that a guy experiences driving his cock into the heavenly, silken embrace of a tight pussy. As her own orgasm began to abate, Vicky felt Celeste's pussy convulse and her hips rock downwards, encouraging Vicky to thrust deeper even though her tongue was being squeezed out by Celeste's powerful contractions. When finally both women were completely spent, Celeste kissed the last of Vicky's juices from her freshly shaven lips before turning around to embrace the younger woman, their breasts pressed together as they whispered breathless gratitude into each other's ears.

After a minute of quiet kissing, Vicky realised that Bob and Spike were still waiting outside and would be getting impatient. Disentangling from each other, both women got up and began putting themselves to rights; buttoning their dresses and touching up makeup as they stole knowing glances at each other in the mirror. Feeling a bit woozy, Vicky wound her hair into a bun and pinned on her pillbox hat. Pulling at her ludicrously short hem, she looked at her beautiful companion standing beside her in the mirror. Was she really afraid of Bob falling for her? Maybe Bob should be the one to be worried. She wondered what would happen next. Whatever it was, they were ready.

"Passengers and crew travelling to Coffs Harbour on flight BJ69, your flight is now ready for boarding. Passengers with special needs and those travelling First Class, please identify yourselves to crew members for priority boarding."

Celeste's voice over the PA system was unmistakable. Spike looked at Bob sitting opposite him in the anteroom. "BJ69," Spike laughed, shaking his head slowly. "See? I told you this would be worth the wait."

Bob had been increasingly concerned that something was wrong as the ten minute wait stretched to twenty minutes and then almost half an hour. Spike reasoned to the contrary: a longer wait was good news because the girls were making more thorough preparations. As they waited, Bob had finally come clean and told the whole story about his flight from Sydney; how Celeste had conspired to spill water on him, feel him up and then herd him into the tiny airplane bathroom with Vicky where he had lost his virginity. Well Bob, you didn't exactly reveal that bit, but hey, it's not like you're under oath, right?

This revelation gave Spike even more encouragement. Celeste was clearly a master game-player, he reasoned; and they were in for a fun night, providing they played along and gave her every opportunity to execute her plan.

As they stood up, a door on the other side of the room opened, seemingly on its own. Bob and Spike went to investigate, but there was nobody there, just a corridor decorated to look like and air-bridge. They followed the corridor and turned the corner revealing another short passage way and what looked very convincingly like a bridge into an aircraft cabin.

Both girls were inside the cabin, smiling and standing with hands clasped in front of their tiny, navy blue mini-dresses. Bob thought Vicky looked nervous; he could see that her cheeks were flushed and her breasts – tightly bound beneath the gold buttons of her uniform – heaved with her rapid breathing. He stopped momentarily to admire the long curves of her legs, propped up on high heels to lend shape to her tight calves and small, round bottom; he could see so much of her long, slim thighs that he could scarcely believe that her panties were not visible beneath the mini-dress.

"Keep walking, mate," Spike breathed from behind him. "You're part of the show now, so play your part."

Bob walked onto the bridge and then stepped into the cabin.

"Welcome aboard, sir," Vicky stepped forward, embraced him and kissed him deeply on the lips. Bob responded, parting his own lips and meeting her tongue with his, detecting a foreign but not unpleasant taste on her lips that was not the champagne they had been drinking. Lip gloss? He didn't think so.

"May I take your coat, sir," Vicky husked, breaking the kiss but continuing to stand with her breasts pressed into his chest and one hand on his bottom.

"Uhhh? I'm not wearing a... ," Bob began before he felt a poke in his back from Spike. "Oh, I mean, of course. Thank you, miss."

Vicky unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it over his shoulders, taking the opportunity to run her hands over his bare chest and back as she did so. With the shirt off, she kissed him softly on the lips again and said "Come with me, please. You're in 1B; I'll show you to your seat."

They stepped past Celeste with a smile and the front row of First Class seats was right there. As Bob sat down, Vicky stepped slightly in front of him and reached up to open the overhead locker, where she stowed Bob's shirt. She felt a little tingle of excitement when she heard Bob whisper "Oh my goodness" as he spied her freshly shaved pussy peeking out from beneath the mini-dress. Hurriedly she pulled down the hem, blushing as she realised that Spike could see her bare bottom from behind.

Spike stepped forward, smiling and clearly ready for the same treatment that Bob had received.

"Welcome aboard, Sir," Celeste said primly. "Are you carrying any metallic items, knives, batteries, explosives, or weapons of any kind?"

"No ma'am," said Spike. He smiled even wider realising the script had changed for him.

"Hold up your arms, please Sir," Celeste said; she wasn't smiling any more.

Spike did as he was told and Celeste stepped closer, close enough to kiss him if she wanted, and began to slowly frisk his upper body. She moulded her palms around his powerful pectoral muscles, slid them up and over his sloping trapezoids, over his biceps and then underneath his arms, testing his latissimus dorsi with her fingertips and finding them bulging from constant use paddling through the surf. Finally she moved half a step closer so that her full breasts touched his chest as she reached around to feel his back.

Stepping back, she said "Sir, please remove your shirt."

Spike was still smiling. "Do you always profile skegs as potential terrorists?"

"Skegs?" Celeste smiled.

"Yeah, you know: surfers," he said. "We're really not that dangerous."

"Your shirt, Sir," she said sternly. "Please don't make me ask a third time." Vicky sat in Bob's lap, curled on her side with her head on his shoulder while they both watched Celeste with amusement.

Spike unbuttoned his shirt and took it off, allowing it to fall to the floor. He held his hands out to sides as if to say 'What next?'

"Stand with your legs apart and your arms out, please Sir."

As Spike did so, Celeste took her phone and began to pass it over is arms and chest, pretending it was a scanner of some kind. She knelt down and repeated the process up and down his legs, touching the standby button as she passed over his groin, making the phone light up and buzz with a small audible vibration.