backstory:

i’m a US student traveling into europe to do a workaway program. before coming, i did a bit of cultural research via youtube. despite speaking half decent spanish, i still wanted to brush up on my vocabulary and get a feel for the social climate. i soon learned that, spaniards especially, have a culture of physical closeness, wherein touching the arm or leg of a stranger or new friend was not uncommon, nor sexual in nature. a very tactile and touchy person myself, this information didnt bother me a bit, and actually excited me a bit. i looked forward to the sense of intimacy that might provide for making new connections. little did i know.

after boarding the last flight in my journey i was beyond relieved. i had missed my layover and spent the last 12 hours meandering the airport in limbo, with my flight ticket reading “standby” and both my anxiety and exhaustion coming to a peak. at my gate i chatted up an american boy, whom ended up giving me his (used, plastic wrapped) pillow & blanket from his previous flight so i could try and get some sleep.

finding my window seat, still sweaty from the 105° heat, i silently prayed that i wouldn’t have anybody next to me; the plane was old and cramped, and i stank from running around the airport. at this thought, a tall middle aged man came down the isle and popped his bag in our overhead. fuck.

taking his seat next to mine, neither of us spoke, but i noticed as he filled the space and then some. he spread his knees around the seat in front of his, touching his to mine, and rested his hands on his legs. as he did this, i admired his overall size, and the large, manicured hands that came with it, “his nails are perfect - better than mine” i thought, soon noticing the long and girthy fingers attached. “that’d feel nice..” my mind trailed off, and i realized i’d been putting pressure against his leg with mine a bit. once aware of the contact point my mind fixated on modulating this pressure, then onto the fact that he could feel it….then i looked at him. he looked generally bothered, putting in airpods and shutting his eyes while our safety messages were blasting over the speakers. readjusting, his arm moved up to rest on our armrest, the hairs on his forearm tickling mine. “you are thinking way too far into this — he is on a plane and these little touches mean nothing, especially not sexually. relax.” i scolded myself. at this, i opened my sleep set and propped the pillow and blanket up around my head so i could rest, popping my headphones on and zoning out.

as we took off, his arm began to slip off the armrest, and i said a little prayer that he would fall asleep and reach out for me; grab my leg or something, perhaps thinking half-asleep that i was his wife or girlfriend next to him. soon after, i felt his arm slip down fully, his elbow now nestled in by my hipbone and hand resting at the edge of my leg. enjoying this, and not wanting to stir or wake him up, i feigned sleep.

after a while i felt his index finger slide across my leg, just below my knee, soon followed by the rest of his hand. at an achingly slow pace, i felt his hand meander slowlyyyyyy down my leg. i fought the urge to smile big — this was exactly what i’d wished for, and i couldn’t believe it. i peeked over to find him facing away from me, eyes closed, face unmoving. ok so…he’s asleep, i assumed. seeing as he was unaware, i laid my blanket over myself, partially because the plane was frigid and partially to encourage his place on my leg.

to my surprise he then continued, creeping up my thigh into my groin. he stopped for a moment and then moved up again, softly brushing my labia through my tight jeans. i screamed inside with excitement. running his hand back up my thigh, he gave some firm squeezes and then i felt his heat as he leaned over.

the bits:

softly in my ear i heard: “¿está bien?” in a thick, lisped accent. trying to play it cool i kept my eyes closed and gave a very casual “mhm”. with my approval he felt for my zipper, then the button on my jeans, and undid the both of them (with one hand i might add). he slipped his hand into my panties, immediately stroking the side of my clit. the angle of his hand mimicked mine, and the tight space in my jeans gave him little room for error. as he hit all the right spots with pressure i felt myself getting wetter and wetter, all the while squeezing my legs to make up for my inability to moan.

after some time he slid a finger down to my vagina, grazing the entrance just enough to feel how wet i was. at this i bucked my hips, but he went back up to my clit and continued working, this time faster and harder, given the pussy juice on his fingers. he went back for just a moment, tracing and teasing my hole before giving me one finger. i pushed against it, hard, grinding and gyrating my hips feverishly, with no effort towards discretion. after some time , he let me rest, as i was struggling not to hyperventilate or moan, and drink carts were coming around. retracting his hand, he rested it on my inner thigh, and i felt my pussy thump .. thump .. thumping through the tight denim, dying to be filled. his hand remained, consoling me through our rough patches (literally, the turbulence was awful) and keeping me incredibly turned on.

as we got off the plane together we made small talk, and i felt a little hot squish in my pants with each step. as i said goodbye and found a restroom to clean up in, i couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement for what more would come my way during my travels.