Hi, my name is Brooke Weaver, you may have heard of me. I was briefly quite famous for a regrettable incident at Newark airport. Don’t worry if you missed it, (where were you, on Mars?) we’ll get to that in good time.

I’m a twenty-three-year-old lesbian working as a publishing assistant in NYC.

This story is not about lesbianism or publishing or the Big Apple though.

It all started when I was on holiday in Tahiti. I was on my own, I’m a pretty independent girl with no serious partner at the moment and I needed a holiday. I also really needed to meet some new women (OK, it’s about lesbianism a bit).

I didn’t fancy the more conventional destinations and Tahiti just looked really interesting.

The island and the hotel on Moorea Beach were both beautiful, but I was having no luck at all in terms of hooking up. The vast majority of the holidaymakers were either young couples with small children or elderly couples. The locals working in the the hotel complex seemed to be very straight-laced, possibly religious types I thought.

I did meet a gorgeous couple of girls, but it turned out they were sisters and no, they weren’t interested in a threesome.

I rarely masturbate, not for any prudish reasons, I just consider it a very poor second to making love to a passionate, warm, and hopefully inventive human being.

Don’t get me wrong, I was still having a good time, exploring the town and lazing on the beach, but I was beginning to get a bit ... desperate.

One morning, after a few too many cocktails the night before, I was late getting up. There was a knock at the door and a maid came in. In my drunken state, I had obviously forgotten to put the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the door. She was an absolutely gorgeous local girl.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” I cried, as I jumped out of bed, stark naked, and ran towards the bathroom. The girl apologized in French and blushed very prettily. I told her it was OK and went into the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door ajar. I was really hoping to see her watch me through the gap in the door, and I was very disappointed when she didn’t.

I came out wearing just a short satin gown and nothing else. I watched her as she went about the process of cleaning my room. She was really very lovely and I got incredibly horny and really quite careless with my robe.

When she was done and indicated that she was leaving I gave her a twenty-dollar tip and allowed my robe to fall open. She raised two fingers to her lips and kissed them and then touched them to the lips of my pussy. “You are very pretty lady. Sorry, I like only man.” She gave me a peck on the cheek and a sweet smile and then left. I was shaking like a leaf from her touch but still resisted the urge to have a wank.

On the penultimate day of my holiday, I was on the beach and the heat of the sun soaking through my black bikini was really getting me going. In the end, I got too hot, in all senses of the word, and retired to the beach bar for a sandwich and a cocktail. The female bartender was very cute but there was no luck with her either, she had a boyfriend. What does a girl have to do to get fucked around here, I thought as I ordered a second drink.

After I’d showered I decided to give up on ever getting laid in this country, and I would spend the next day seeing some more of the island. I went to the car hire desk and booked a small runabout for the following day. They gave me a complimentary map and I spent dinner planning my route.

I drove up into the mountains heading towards Fachoda. On the way, I came across a small village and decided to stop for lunch. I parked in the center, although center was overstating it somewhat; it was a very small place.

I got out of the car and had a look around, but I couldn’t see anything that looked like a bar even, let alone a cafe or restaurant.

I was just thinking about moving on when an old woman approached me. She started talking to me in what I now recognized as the local version of French. “English?” I asked her. “Non,” she said. “No English. Manger.” I didn’t know what that meant but she pinched her fingers together and put them up to her lips. “Ah, eat,” I said, repeating her gesture and she nodded.

I foolishly thought that she was going to direct me to a lovely little bistro round the corner, but, after quite a long walk, we came to a small ramshackle house. She sat me down in her kitchen and I was furiously thinking how I could extricate myself from this awkward situation, but in no time she had rustled up a quite nice-looking plate of bread, cheese, and some fruit. I smiled at her and tucked in, and she seemed very happy. While I was eating the phone rang, and I was astonished to see her unlock a cupboard and take out an old-fashioned phone with a dial and handset. It gave me some idea of how far behind the times this little village really was that the phone was kept locked away.

I really enjoyed the little meal and at the end, I offered her three, thousand franc notes, which at the time was about thirty dollars. She took one of them and I held out a second in what I thought was an insistent way. She took my hand in both of hers and looked intensely into my eyes for a disturbingly long time. Then she opened the phone cupboard again and took out a small folded piece of paper. She offered it to me and gestured that I should eat it.

I started to open it, but the woman put her hand over mine and gestured with two palms together under her tilted head. OK, I thought, you should eat it at bedtime.

“Oui,” I said, one of my very few words of French, and I smiled at her. She smiled back.

“La Chatte éveil,” she said to me, and I shrugged my shoulders and looked blank. “Le con mouiller. Se branler.” I didn’t have the slightest idea what she was talking about. I got my phone out, thinking I could try Google Translate, but it had no signal, not a surprise really.

Then she rubbed her hand over the bottom of her stomach before putting two fingers in the corners of her mouth and lifting them to make a smile, then she pointed to me.

Ah, I thought, it’s a sleeping aid that’s also good for the digestion.

“Oui, oui. Merci,” I said and nodded vigorously, pleased to have figured it out. I put the packet into my handbag, shook the old lady’s hand warmly, and left.

When I finally got to Fachoda the Cascade was an incredible series of beautiful waterfalls in the mountains and I was really pleased with myself for having seen a bit of Tahiti outside of the hotel complex.

I ate at a restaurant in town and then had a nightcap in the hotel bar. I met a lovely woman there and thought for a moment my luck had finally changed, but it turned out she was on the same flight that I was on the following night, and was just killing time before getting a taxi to the airport.

As is often the case the last day of my holiday was disappointing. With no room to change in, I couldn’t go to the beach, so I went shopping in town instead. After a leisurely lunch and a walk around town, I ended up sitting in a park for a couple of hours reading on my Kindle and people-watching.

It was actually a relief when it was time to go to the airport and, by that stage, I was really looking forward to just getting home.

By the time I had checked in and gone through security, a storm had rolled in and the flight was delayed for an hour, and then another hour, and then again. At four in the morning, they finally announced that the flight was canceled and they had transferred us to another one at midday.

I tried to get some sleep lying on the benches, but they weren’t very comfortable to start with, and trying to maneuver around the armrests didn’t help at all. Then I remembered the old ladies’ herbs. They didn’t look too palatable as they were, so I got a cup of hot water from the cafe and made a sort of tea out of them.

I must have gotten to sleep because I woke up two hours later after some pretty weird and very erotic dreams. As soon as I woke up I realized I was turned on as hell and I could feel that my panties were soaking wet. I briefly wondered if I’d wet myself, but as soon as I moved even slightly, I knew it wasn’t that; my clit rubbed against the material of my panties. I had never, ever, felt that before and I wondered what the fuck was going on.

I didn’t dare touch myself, so I went to the ladies. Luckily it wasn’t far because the sensations from my clit as I walked over to them nearly made my legs give way. God only knows what I looked like as I hobbled over there like an old woman.

When I finally got into a cubicle I rucked up my skirt, pulled my panties down, and sat on the loo. When I looked between my legs I couldn’t believe what I saw. My pussy lips were red and swollen and my clit was poking out between them. It was fucking huge and more erect than I had ever seen it.

I thought back to the conversation with the old woman and realized that she hadn’t been rubbing her stomach, she had been rubbing her pussy. Somehow she must have divined my sexual frustrations and given me an aphrodisiac. It all made sense now: it would make me happy and I should take it at night. I kicked myself for my stupidity but it didn’t help my situation now one little bit.

I was horny beyond belief. I licked my fingers and put them on either side of the head of my clit and wanked it off like a little penis. It was fucking amazing and I came in a matter of a few minutes. It gave me a little relief but, as soon as the hyper-sensitive phase was over I needed to do it again. In the end, I had three orgasms before my arousal level dropped to something manageable, but even then my clitoris was still hard and proud. I cleaned myself up as best I could with some wet wipes from my bag.

I looked at my soaking wet panties around my ankles and knew that I couldn’t bear to put them on again, never mind the fact that the odor coming off them meant I couldn’t have gone out in public with them on anyway.

I flushed them, and, after tidying myself up, I went back to my seat. The next few hours were a torment. Even the slightest movement caused friction on my clit and had me figuratively climbing the walls. I don’t know how many little orgasms I had before they finally called us up to the departure gate.

As I stood up to go, I realized that the back of my skirt was drenched in my juices, but what could I do? I desperately wanted to get home so I had no choice but to carry on. I minced my way to the gate, I probably looked like someone who was about to shit themselves: tiny slow steps to cause as little friction on my clit as possible and avoid cumming, which I thought might well make me collapse.

I did manage to splash some water on my skirt and dry it off under a blower in another toilet but I don’t know how much difference it made; by that stage, my own fragrance was in my nose and I could smell it everywhere.

By the time I made it to the boarding gate, I was in a right state. I simply had to have an orgasm. I chose a seat as far away from everyone else as I could find and put my handbag on my lap. I slipped my hand under it and put the tiniest pressure on my clit. The relief was exquisite and I breathed out fully for the first time in ages. The downside was that I felt another flood of juices soak into my skirt and I now smelt like a cheap whore with very bad hygiene.

When we eventually boarded I was sat next to a very posh, very beautiful, well-dressed thirty-year-old woman who already had her earbuds in.

In the seats in front of me were a young brother and sister who knelt on their seats and looked back at me. With growing paranoia, I was convinced that they had smelt me. I smiled at them and they sat back down without saying anything or smiling back.

As I waited for the plane to finish boarding I was getting more and more aroused again. I started to fidget, squeezing my legs together and wriggling my ass on the seat, attempting to ease the now constant demands of my pussy.

It seemed to take forever before we finally took off and I then waited impatiently for the seat-belt sign to go out. Eventually, it did but several people, who were closer to the toilet than me, formed a queue before I could even move.

I was desperate now and the instant a toilet became free I shuffled up to the front. Just before I got there someone beat me to it. I saw that the other toilet was out of order and I cracked. I just couldn’t bear it any longer and I burst into floods of tears.

An air stewardess saw me and put her hand on my arm.

“Are you OK Madam? What’s wrong?” she asked me, with a look of concern on her face. I didn’t know how to even start to explain, and I couldn’t speak through my sobs anyway. In my deranged state of mind, I decided to just show her. I pushed her back into her galley area and lifted the front of my skirt. I saw her look down and an expression of horror was quickly replaced by one of sympathy.

“Oh my God, you poor thing,” she said softly. She pushed my hands holding my skirt back down and guided me to the closed toilet stall. She opened it and pushed me gently inside.

“Does it hurt?” she asked me, kneeling down in front of me and lifting the front of my skirt again. I was praying to Almighty God with all my heart that she would kiss me down there. “No, I just need...” I replied, put my hands on her head, and drew her gently towards me. My prayers were answered as she took my clit between her lips and sucked gently. I thought the top of my head would come off as a series of incredibly intense orgasms ripped through me.

“Oh God, thank you, thank you, thank you,” I sobbed as she sucked and licked me, not stopping until I pulled her head up level with mine and kissed her hard on the mouth.

“How on earth did you get into this state?” she asked me.

“I thought I was taking something to help me sleep,” I told her sheepishly. “Apparently not though.”

“I’ve got some Zanax if you think they might help,” she offered me, and I nodded immensely gratefully and took a couple with a glass of water that she got for me.

I went back to my seat and actually managed to get a bit of sleep. When I woke up I found that the stewardess had put a blanket over me. But, underneath it, my hand was rubbing against my pussy, which was throbbing and pulsating like crazy again.

I stopped as soon as I realized what I was doing, and looked at the woman next to me. She was glaring at me with a look of absolute disgust and contempt on her face. Fucking bitch! I thought, if only you knew what I was going through!

She shut her eyes and I thought, well you can fucking well find out. I sprinkled half of the remaining herbs into her tea and watched surreptitiously as she drank it.

Twenty minutes later she was sweating and fidgeting in her seat and I knew exactly what she was feeling.

When she then barged past me on the way to the loo I followed close behind her, and when she went in I forced my way inside with her.