Chapter 1: Take Off

I handed my passport to the TSA guy now behind a Plexiglas shield. It was surprising I had only one person in front of me in the line. This is unheard of in the Atlanta airport on a Friday afternoon. Normally I’d be a hundred people back, waiting. But that is what happens when you have a shelter-in-place due to Coronavirus.

This lack of people gave the TSA agent and me time to talk. The agent laughed at my name, “Your name is John Q. Smith?”

“Yes.”

“Your parents obviously had a sense of humor.”

“They’re history professors and liked John Quincy Adams.”

“Too bad your last name isn’t Adams.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, taking my license back from him.

“Well, you must be just as important. I mean, there has been almost no one through here today.”

“Not really. More of a guinea pig.” I said, quickly losing interest in the older Black guy seeing a sexy late thirty-something blonde with what had to be her daughter in tow. I guess they could’ve been sisters if their mother had them eighteen years apart. The two walked up to the holding spot of the queue, waiting for me to move on.

They both had slate blue eyes and long blonde hair that didn’t look like it had come from a bottle. The mother had let her hair fall over her shoulders and down to the top of her chest, where it had a slight curl to it. The younger one had hers up in dog ears. The hanging blonde locks bounced and swayed sexily as she skipped and hopped along. Her appearance and actions made her look likely six years younger and a lot more innocent than she probably was. Her lips were red and overly shiny. The obvious lip gloss was put on too heavily and bled over onto her paler lower and upper lips. They were in matching knee-length skirts that showed off toned calves. The sight was augmented by the three-inch heels they both had on. The heels weren’t needed; if anything, it made them close to six feet, which was fine by me. I’m six-two, and looking down at women gets old. It does give me multiple occasions to get views of various tits.

I made sure I slowed my passing through the checkpoint, fiddling with my laptop; I didn’t need to take it out of its case. I couldn’t help but notice the diplomatic passports handed to the agent. Watching the two out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the high cheekbones as well as the fine lines of their figures. Their graceful necks went down to shoulders that were held back in a stance of high-class confidence. The pink silk blouses, though they clung to their bodies, showed no signs of bra straps or cups, though I knew they were wearing them. Since the chill in the air had my nipples slightly hardened, no nipple outlines were visible in their blouses.

I heard the agent ask, “Where is your final destination?”

“Frankfurt,” the woman answered. I couldn’t believe my luck; I was heading there as well. With so few people in the massive airport, it was more likely than normal we would have a chance to talk. Having a conversation with such an attractive woman would be a nice way to kill the two hours before the flight left.

I bent down, retying my shoe, extending my stay in the inspection area a bit longer. I hoped it wasn’t too apparent to her; I was stalling. While stalling, I had a chance to inspect the front of the two as they waited on the belt delivering their carry-on luggage. The x-ray machine was turned off. The two were diplomats, but they still had to go through the motions of being inspected.

The mom’s breasts were magnificently formed teardrops with a tight curve on the underside. They formed what likely would’ve been a “B” cup if she bought bras off the rack. Her tits were so well separated and held without looking scrunched up or uncomfortable that she had to have the bra specially made for her. The younger girl’s breast looked to be only a few days out of a training bra. They were starting to have just the slightest change from cones pointing straight out. I could only imagine how either set of tits would feel. Mom’s being only a bit over a mouthful while the daughter’s would be just under one.

When I was finished stalling, I was behind the two. Their asses were as perfect as their smallish, firm tits. Again, the mom had curves the daughter would likely have one day. But as they stepped on the long escalator going down to the “Plane-Train,” as the airport called their tram, the curve and jiggle of their ass cheeks weren’t hidden by the skirts they were wearing. And much like their blouses, the thin black cotton fabric caressed their asses with no lines visible from panties or thongs. If it wasn’t for the refined look of the two, I would’ve expected them to be pantyless, but for these two, that looked unlikely.

Trying to be friendly instead of pervy, when she caught my eye, I said with my best southern manners, “Good afternoon.” Looking at my watch, I saw it was five pm. I corrected, “Actually evening.”

She smiled at me. In what I could only describe as a European accent, he said, “Good evening, sir.” She quit looking me in the eye and checked me out head to toe. Her mini-me did the same. The younger girl didn’t have the composure of her mother. She had a devilish grin as her eyes fixed on my shorts-covered groin longer than they should’ve.

I think I am a better-than-average-looking thirty-five-year-old. I try to keep fit running a couple of miles on days I don’t have adult league soccer practice. I don’t lift weights, finding that a waste of time. There is plenty of strenuous work needed on the in-town farm my folks had left me. My hair stayed a sun-bleached light brown, which many a woman had said went well with the tint of my green eyes. The daily work on the farm also tanned me everywhere my shorts didn’t cover. I rarely wore shirts as I worked outdoors. I don’t like the feeling of sweat-filled shirts clinging to my chest.

Speaking to the younger blonde, I asked, “Are you on your way home?”

Looking at her mother for permission before she answered me. She received a subtle nod from her mom. “Yes, they’re going to close the borders to even us if we don’t get home.”

I knew what she meant by ‘even us.’ But her mother seemed none too happy at her daughter’s phrase. “Astrid, they’re closing the border to all people, and we’re people.” I was glad to see that despite her clear upper-class position, she didn’t want her daughter thinking she was afforded special privileges.

“Yes, ma’am.” The girl accepted the gentle admonishment.

“Are you looking forward to getting home?” I asked them both. It let them decide which one answered.

“Yes, Pappa is waiting for us.” The younger woman said excitedly.

The older woman confided, “She is her daddy’s little princess. Even after eighteen years, she can do no wrong. Not that she is a bad girl, but at her age I’d...” Evidently, the upper-crust manners kicked in a little late, letting her say too much.

Letting her off the hook and complimenting the younger of the two foreigners, “If I had a daughter as sweet and pretty as Astrid. I’d keep all the boys away. I was a young boy once.”

The woman smiled at me. I couldn’t help but think she should be on the cover of a fashion magazine. “Well, he does a good job at that.”

“I wish he wasn’t such an old fuddy-duddy sometimes. I haven’t even kissed a boy, and he won’t let me ever be alone with one, even though I am eighteen.”

“Well, if you would quit dressing and acting like a preteen, he might be more amenable to that. But as it is, you seem to be determined not to grow up. Plus he’s from a different generation, Astrid. And with your asthma, right now you should be around anyone.” The gorgeous mother replied.

“So you’re eighteen? I would have never guessed it. And you have asthma?” I asked the girl. I was astonished by the young girl’s use of American idioms and how she pulled off looking six years younger than she was.

“Yes on both accounts, and the asthma, it’s really bad. I have to carry this.” She held up an inhaler, pulled out of her small purse, “And this.” Out came an EpiPen. “Pappa has them, too.”

Again, the woman confided in me. “That is part of the reason we’re headed home. Liam, my husband, is sixty-two. His severe asthma and age make it unsafe for him to have us come home with this new virus. But he wants to see his angel.”

She gave me a sideways glance when I stepped off the train at terminal E and said, “You need to get off here.”

“But this isn’t the international terminal,” the young blonde said.

“Normally that would be true. But this used to be the international terminal; now it is mostly domestic. But with Covid-19 going around, they closed the new international terminal and went back to using E.”

“Oh, I didn’t ask you where you are going.” The woman said, getting off the train, right before the doors closed. With the usual announcement of, “The doors are closing and won’t reopen; please step away from the doors.”

“Oh, I thought I’d said I was going to Frankfurt, also. And, I am sorry. I don’t recall catching your name. I’m John, by the way. And you are Astrid,” I said to the younger of the two gorgeous women.

“It’s Pernilla Lind. But you can call me Nilla,” she said.

On the forever-long escalator, going up to the terminal, Nilla’s perfect ass was eye level. I had intentionally let a few steps go by before stepping on. When she turned, my eyes were right at pussy level. I quickly looked up, trying not to think of how delicious it would likely be. If I ever got a chance to taste it. I had never tasted a woman of such standing before.

Before reaching our gate at E-4, we passed by shops that were closed on the concourse. Together, the three of us walked past ‘The Bar.’ It had the metal gate down and all the lights off. It made the whole concourse seem more deserted than it was. Over the echoing clack of the women’s high heels, I said, “I would’ve asked you if you wanted to sit and have a drink. But it looks like that isn’t possible.”

“Damn, I hate flying and was hoping to have some wine before getting on the plane,” she said.

“I know what you mean. I don’t mind flying so much as the landing and taking off.” I commiserated. “But hopefully you’re in first class. They start serving drinks pretty much as soon as you walk on there.”

“We are. She said smiling, How about you?”

“Normally not, but the government and CDC are sparing no expense this trip,” I said. “So drinks are on me.”

Astrid didn’t get the joke, saying, “But aren’t they free?”

Her mom said, “Yes, Astrid, they are.” She sounded exasperated at her daughter’s lack of understanding.

“Then I can have one, too. Pappa isn’t around, and we’re only going to see him through glass for two weeks.” The girl frowned, “We have to be in quarantine.”

“We’ll see.” Nilla’s phone rang then, and she said, “Excuse me, it’s Liam.”

I didn’t see the two again until we were boarding the plane. We were the only people in first class. Even then, only another 12 people boarded the Airbus A350. And they all were airline employees. I overheard the flight attendant say, “I can’t believe they didn’t cancel this flight.”

I asked her, “Why are they flying with so few people?”

“Because of you and her.” She said, pointing to Nilla. “Evidently, you two are important enough to fly this big plane all the way to Europe.”

“Wow. Who knew? Well, I guess then getting a drink won’t be an issue.” I joked.

“Sure, by the way, as you have probably already guessed, I’m the flight attendant for first class. My name is Gabriela. Though you won’t likely see her, Ebele is working coach. But it is all company people back there. Anyway, what would you like? And I have to know. Who are you to have them fly?” Gabriela had golden bronze skin and dark almond eyes that went well with her wavy brownie-colored hair. The rest of her slender five-foot-two body, with her full breasts and her fully curved hips, looked good enough to eat.

“Bourbon and coke. And I’m really a nobody. I just work for the CDC.”

Nilla was on the opposite corner of first class. The airline had done a good job at the social distancing. Before we took off, she came over with three mini wine bottles in her hands and sat in the seat across the aisle from me. She poured the first bottle down her throat before sitting down. “Nope, not sitting way over there. No one to talk to. She opened the second bottle of wine and had half of it gone before saying, “You don’t mind if I talk to you, do you?”

I thought it was interesting her proper behavior, when it came to alcohol, had gone away. Now that she was on the plane. “No, please feel free. If the flight attendant doesn’t care.”

Looking at the Gabriela attendant, she asked, “You mind if I sit here instead?”

“That is fine. And let me ask you two something.”

“Ok,” we said in unison.

“Once we are in the air, would you mind if I go to the back? Like I told you, I work with all of them. And I’d like to have time to talk and have a little get-together with them. Since we’re normally so busy on these flights.”

“Fine by me. How about you, Nilla?” I said, thinking Nilla would get tired of talking. Then, I would put the chair into its bed-like position and sleep.

“That would be ok. But what about dinner and drinks?” she said. Though I couldn’t imagine she ate or drank much with her actress-like figure.

“How about I leave the place unlocked? Once we level off, you can get what you want to drink when you want it. And in a couple of hours, I’ll bring you dinner. Will that work?” the attendant asked.

Nilla piped up, “That would be acceptable.”

“Sure,” I said, as the overhead dinged.

“OK. You don’t need the safety talk, do you?”

“No,” we again answered together.

“Fine, fasten your seat belts. We’ll be in the air in ten minutes.” She went and secured the cabin door and the cockpit door before bringing me my drink. Finished with her modified duties, she headed to the back of the plane, pulling closed the curtain separating first class.

Nilla unbuckled her seat belt. Without a word to me, she quickly climbed on me. The backs of her thighs felt hot on the tops of mine. She threw her arms around my neck; fear or wine had removed her decorum. She nuzzled her head into my shoulder and neck. “You said you hate take-offs, but I really hate them.”

“Don’t you think you should be strapped in next to your daughter?” I asked. The side of her firm breast pressed into me.

‘Nope, she’s watching a movie and loves to fly. She thinks I’m crazy for acting this way.” She answered into my chest, her hot breath penetrating my shirt.

“I can’t imagine why? Isn’t it normal? I think it is completely normal to climb into the lap of a total stranger. I mean, who wants to be seated with their seat belt fastened while taking off?” The sarcasm was laid on a little thick.

When the plane taxied down the taxiway, her hand found its way to my bare chest. I wasn’t sure if she’d unbuttoned my shirt or torn through it. Either way, her fingers passing through the hair on my chest felt good. At the revving of the engines at the end of the runway, she grabbed at my pectoral muscle and squeezed it. The bumping and jostling down the runway on the way to becoming airborne, Nilla pinched my nipple as she squeezed my chest harder.

After a few air pockets dropped us. I heard the landing gear lock back into place. I pushed her back a bit so I could look at her face. It still had a bit of a look of dread. I asked about her state of mind, “You OK now?”

“No, but better,” she stated. “Thanks. Sorry about being so forward.” She then showed her appreciation by being even more forward. She put her full lips to mine. They had a sensual pliability to them. They captured my lip. The unexpected quick peck raced on as she captured my upper lip between hers. My mind was captivated by the sweet taste of her saliva mixed with a decent chardonnay. And the sensation sent an electric shock to my cock, instantly hardening it.

Normally, I would’ve liked to think I could control my cock better than that. Pernilla was gorgeous, and she tasted fabulous, but she wasn’t the first model-quality woman I’d had in my lap or in my bed. I’m a fit heterosexual male with a career that pays me in the mid-six figures with no kids or STDs. Hell, a lot of the single women in Atlanta would’ve even accepted a wife if I’d had one. But for the past eight weeks, I’d been quarantined or working long hours. Even if I had been able to go to Midtown and pick up someone for a night of sex, the place was closed. So any sexual contact had my cock getting ready to go.

Nilla must’ve felt my cock stir and press into her. She wiggled her ass a little before the tiniest of groans reverberated in her chest. While her lips were no longer attached to mine, I now felt my swollen cock press on the ‘Y” at the joining of legs to her pelvis. Turning red, looking at me, she said, “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Despite her saying she was sorry. Nilla made no move to extricate her hand from my bare chest or herself from my lap.

“Probably not, you being married and all,” I said honestly. “But I’ll let it slide. I usually do for really pretty women.”

“I probably should tell you this, John ... John ... Wait, you never told me your last name.” Her ability to lose her train of thought was amazing. It was either that or she had second thoughts on what she wanted to tell me.

“It’s Smith,” I said as her hand on my chest began moving across my flesh, caressing me.

“I don’t believe that. You’re making a joke.” She pulled her hand out of my shirt like it hadn’t been there. Holding it out, she added, “Let me see your passport.”

I handed her the pouch that held my passport, Georgia driver’s license, credit cards, and cash. It usually hung around my neck for safekeeping. But with no one on the plane, I’d placed it on the small table next to me. “It’s in there; have a look. It states my name is John Q. Smith.”

She opened the pouch and scanned my passport, then looked at my driver’s license and its picture. The DMV managed to make it worse than the one on the passport. Holding up my driver’s license, she said, “This one has doctor, John Quincy Smith. You’re a doctor?”

“Yes.”

“But why didn’t you say you are one?”

“Because most of the doctors that include that when introducing themselves are pretentious asses. And I thought I wouldn’t be pretentious today. Can’t help but be an ass. Now, if you want, I can start being pretentious just for you.” I snickered. “After all, you don’t go around introducing yourself as the absolutely gorgeous model and mom, Pernilla Lind.”

“But I’m not gorgeous or a model, and you are a doctor?” she said, questioning.

“Yes, I’m a doctor. And, yes, you are gorgeous. Maybe not a model, but you should be.” I answered.

“You are too sweet,” she said once again, giving a kiss. This one too lingered longer than a quick thanks would’ve. Plus, her hand was once again inside my shirt, stroking my chest. I moved my lips with hers while she maintained the contract. Half a minute into our lip lock, I felt the tip of her tongue sliding over my lips. Soon after, she broke the kiss, but no apology followed.

I didn’t say anything as she undid the rest of my shirt buttons. I was surprised she was being so sexually aggressive with me, a complete stranger, and with her daughter only a few seats away. But crazier things had happened to me. I would let the situation run its course and allow her unfettered access to my whole torso. She had her hand on my abdomen, stroking and groping it, when she said, “So you’re the reason we have this plane flying tonight. I heard the stewardess ask if you were some kind of important person. You didn’t really answer her. So who are you? The head of the CDC or something?”

“Or something. I am one of the head doctors of infectious diseases at the CDC. But that isn’t why they’re flying me to Frankfurt. They’re doing that since I’m the guinea pig.”

She grazed her fingertip along my lips before removing it. She again put her lips to mine. Nilla took the kiss one step further, running her hand up the back of my head, through my hair. She was holding me in place while her lips captured and recaptured my lips. Finally, her tongue made a quick hedonistic incursion into my mouth, lapping over mine just once. “Hold that thought; I’ll be back with some drinks. I have to hear more about you being a guinea pig.”

She left my lap and stopped to see her daughter, who was out of eyesight. She was hidden by all the big chairs and slunk down in hers. They talked for a short while before Nilla headed to the open galley. She came back with a tray full of wine, bourbon, tequila, and all the mixers and limes needed for their consumption. “Astrid will be an hour or so binging on some kind of Japanese anime. I’ve never understood her interest in them.”

I figured this was her way of telling me we were free to do whatever we liked for the next hour or so. In preparation for that eventuality, I had already removed my shirt and the belt holding my shorts tight to my waist. Had I been standing, without the belt, the shorts would have likely been around my ankles.

Nilla said nothing about my shirt being removed. She hadn’t removed her shirt, but it was unbuttoned below her beautifully tailored lace bra. Holding up a couple of mini bottles of wine and bourbon, she said, “Now, I’m ready to hear about you and being a guinea pig.”

I knew why I was shirtless; I had plans to relieve some of the built-up semen in my nuts. The reason her shirt was undone to her navel, and she had locked her lips on mine whenever she had an excuse, interested me. Especially when she said she was headed back to her husband. She was already in my lap, curled up against me, before I could ask, “What was it you were going to tell me? Before you got lost in figuring out my name. Shortly after I mentioned you’re married.”

“Oh, I was hoping you had forgotten.” Her hair tickled my chest and neck. Her hot breath could be felt on my skin as she answered.

“Nope, not forgotten.”

“Well, I was going to say Liam and I are married in name only.” She sounded sad saying it.

Feeling a bit sorry for the beautiful woman, I stroked my fingers lightly over her smooth-as-silk cheek. And her high bones that made them so marvelously formed. “Sorry to hear that. But what do you mean?”

“We are still married for Astrid. I was a year younger than her when I met Liam. He was forty-four then. He was handsome and strong and came from a great family. I was so thrilled when he took an interest in me, a commoner.” I found it strange she called herself a commoner. She was far from common. But maybe her description was because English wasn’t her first language. But then she went on to information I would never reveal to a stranger. But with Covid not being understood and killing people off, maybe she was just scared, and it was her way of dealing with being frightened. She gave out too much information. “At first, we kept everything a secret from everyone. We kissed and hugged and had lots of fun doing stuff together. Not sex at first. It was six months before I ever held his dick. It was his present to me on my eighteenth birthday. I sucked it, that same day. It was the first time I’d ever done that. It was fun, and he seemed to like it. The next time I sucked him off, he said it was only right for him to do the same for me. So in the back of his limo, I got eaten for the first time. I’m amazed the driver didn’t pull over and try and find out what was wrong. I screamed so loud when I had my first orgasm. God, do I love my clit licked and sucked.” Her hand that had been running over my chest traveled down to her skirt and over it, to her creamy thigh. It came back up via her lace thong, bringing the skirt with it. The thong formed a delicious-looking camel toe.

“On his forty-fifth birthday, he said my present to him should be him turning me into a woman by having sex with me. You know, despite being a virgin at the time, it didn’t really hurt that much. I think my mom knew when I got home since I was walking a bit more gently than normal. But she didn’t say anything. I think she was even more thrilled than me that Liam had sex with me.” I wondered where all the backstory was going. Or, how it was related to her’s being a marriage in name only. But I listened intently, interested in all this virtual stranger was saying about her life.

“It wasn’t until then, the day after, that we were seen in public together. I think by that time he was already planning to break it off with me. I can’t swear to it, but I think the long weekend of his birthday was supposed to be one last hurrah before moving on. We mistakenly got too drunk, and the long weekend turned into close to a week and a half. We spent all of it making love and having oral sex with each other. Neither of us had really thought about birth control the whole time. So, I got pregnant with Astrid.”

Her lips pressed gently to my neck. They felt wonderful as she paused her story. I was beginning to see where she was going, but I figured it was her story, and she would tell it. In the meantime, her lips on my skin were hot and had my already hardened cock getting harder. Unfortunately, it was wadded up in my pants, and despite her lightweight, which by my estimates was no more than one hundred thirty pounds. It was more than my cock could lift.

Going up my neck, Nilla’s kisses sucked in bits of my flesh before releasing them. She went over my jaw, finding my mouth. The light, airy kisses along my neck and jaw became hard, demanding ones on my lips. Her tongue forced its way into my mouth, invading it. I welcomed the invasion, savoring more of what I had only a hint of earlier. Our tongues rolled and frolicked together. My hand was finally on her lower ribs, and I indulged in the texture of her flawless skin. After a minute, she pulled it out from her silken blouse. At that point, I wondered if this would be little more than a make-out session with an overindulged wife that was bored on a plane ride home. That thought lasted only a second or two. She put my hand down onto the lace covering her plump pussy lips. It made me think maybe not.

Cupping the covered sex in my hand, I felt the incredible heat coming from her. Plus, her moisture permeated the fabric. She squeezed the backside of my hand, driving more of my palm flat against her. Astoundingly, she broke off the kiss and moaned discreetly before continuing the tale of her marriage. “His family was thrilled when they found out before I could have the abortion. They thought marriage and a baby were exactly what Liam needed to stop his unacceptable behavior. So we got married. Seven months later, I had a quote-unquote premie, Astrid. And for the next two years, we were a normal married couple. It was when he hit fifty that it all changed. From then on we’ve had sex on my birthday and Astrid’s. Besides those days, we keep up a good show. I haven’t had any other lovers, though I’ve wanted to. I don’t think I can say the same for Liam. I think he’s been fooling around with one of Astrid’s friends. I know he won’t try anything with her because I’ll cut his balls off and feed them to him. But the other girls, I feel sorry for, but they’re old enough to know what they are getting into. I know I did.” She again squeezed the back of my hand, driving more of the wetted fabric between the plump labia.

“So you’ve only ever been with Liam?”

“Yes.”

“And this?” I asked, looking at the positions of our hands.

“This is me not sure if I care if he lives. Since I’m betting he caught the virus, it’s from one of the young girls he likes to run around with. It serves the bastard right. He should’ve known with his asthma and age it was stupid. I didn’t tell you in front of Astrid he may have it because I didn’t want to scare her. She loves him dearly.”

“And you?”

“Not so much lately.”

“If he has been still running around with young women, and he has Covid. It’s likely he got it from one of them. Extremely healthy younger people are more likely to be asymptomatic. Unfortunately, Astrid isn’t one of those people. Her asthma means she should be doing everything possible to stay healthy.” I said in my most doctorly way. “She should be wearing a mask of some sort.”

“She said with so few people in the airport she wasn’t going to walk through it looking geeky. And while I don’t agree, I’m trying to let her make her own decisions. Maybe then she will quit acting like a twelve-year-old and act her age.”

“I agree on most things; she is old enough, but on this, she isn’t. When we get to the airport, demand she put one on.” I said forcefully. “If you don’t want to tell her, I will.”

“Thanks,” she said, yielding. The capitulation to the authoritative tone once again had her lips to mine. Her tongue sought mine but only to tease it into playing with hers. The hand pressed to her mons was temporarily moved by her. When she returned it to where it had been, there no longer was any lace between my hand and her heated flesh. The lace had covered her short curls, which she had kept neatly trimmed so none had strayed outside of their normal covering. The covering she had removed.