Originally written as a reply in another 'Main forum' thread but maybe it belongs here too. It happened many years ago, I was in my early 20s, had abundant hair in those bygone days and in retrospect was better looking than I gave myself credit for.
I did a fair bit of transatlantic flying in the mid-70s to mid 80s and while more or less the same situation happened a couple of times with other girls and without any rancour on their part, the best occasion and most elaborate occurred when one summer I happened to be seated in the same row as an attractive blonde in her (I guess) mid to late twenties. Economy, very little legroom, and after a bit of wine and a pleasant chat I suggested that if she was uncomfortable she was welcome to stretch her bare legs (she was in jean shorts) over the empty seat between us and rest them on mine, under a blanket, and sleep a bit since there were still several hours to London.
She agreed quite happily, slipped her sandals from her red-nailed feet (I remember the shade) and did so. Well...
It was a pleasantly libidinous era, before two incurable diseases and creeping puritanism in daily life arrived on the scene. Also airline flight was a bit less 'universal' in those days, and there were goodie bags with various samples, including moisturiser in the seatback pockets. Yes, that's where this is all going. I reached under the blanket and gently rubbed her feet as an appetiser, and she sighed happily and giggled as I used my nails very gently. But she was aware we were in public, and smiled complicitly at me to pace things. I reached for the moisturiser, showed her, and interrogatively raised an eyebrow. She made a purring noise, so I continued.
Then I felt it was time to make her writhe and giggle gently, so increased the pace, using my nails on various parts of her lotioned feet and toes. She opened her eyes, met mine, and moved quietly and spasmodically during the exploration, occasionally catching her breath, or grasping her armrest or looking ceilingward to collect herself; I'd stop when she did so, and in those intervals sometime her toes would 'wander'. I'd also tighten my grip on one of her ankles or both, and feel her brace herself for what she knew was coming next. But keep in mind we were in a very public place, surrounded by people in adjacent seats, and neither of us wanted to disturb anyone and have a stewardess come to ask what was going on. Think of it as having sex under a blanket- one doesn't wish to be interrupted so a great deal of subtle technique is necessary. Anyway, after a pleasant half hour or so we sensed it was time to quit. She smiled, rested the sole of her foot somewhere extremely interesting, (and interested) moved it gently back and forth once or twice, winked, smiled, and sat up again. It was then I noticed her engagement ring- quite a rock actually.
I only knew her first name and over four decades later have forgotten it. We did not exchange contact details in that primitive pre-internet age, and anyway she was 'promis'd to another'. But I haven't forgotten the occasion and hope both her life and marriage were happy. I guess she'd be in her late 60s now.
'Where have all the flowers gone...'
I did a fair bit of transatlantic flying in the mid-70s to mid 80s and while more or less the same situation happened a couple of times with other girls and without any rancour on their part, the best occasion and most elaborate occurred when one summer I happened to be seated in the same row as an attractive blonde in her (I guess) mid to late twenties. Economy, very little legroom, and after a bit of wine and a pleasant chat I suggested that if she was uncomfortable she was welcome to stretch her bare legs (she was in jean shorts) over the empty seat between us and rest them on mine, under a blanket, and sleep a bit since there were still several hours to London.
She agreed quite happily, slipped her sandals from her red-nailed feet (I remember the shade) and did so. Well...
It was a pleasantly libidinous era, before two incurable diseases and creeping puritanism in daily life arrived on the scene. Also airline flight was a bit less 'universal' in those days, and there were goodie bags with various samples, including moisturiser in the seatback pockets. Yes, that's where this is all going. I reached under the blanket and gently rubbed her feet as an appetiser, and she sighed happily and giggled as I used my nails very gently. But she was aware we were in public, and smiled complicitly at me to pace things. I reached for the moisturiser, showed her, and interrogatively raised an eyebrow. She made a purring noise, so I continued.
Then I felt it was time to make her writhe and giggle gently, so increased the pace, using my nails on various parts of her lotioned feet and toes. She opened her eyes, met mine, and moved quietly and spasmodically during the exploration, occasionally catching her breath, or grasping her armrest or looking ceilingward to collect herself; I'd stop when she did so, and in those intervals sometime her toes would 'wander'. I'd also tighten my grip on one of her ankles or both, and feel her brace herself for what she knew was coming next. But keep in mind we were in a very public place, surrounded by people in adjacent seats, and neither of us wanted to disturb anyone and have a stewardess come to ask what was going on. Think of it as having sex under a blanket- one doesn't wish to be interrupted so a great deal of subtle technique is necessary. Anyway, after a pleasant half hour or so we sensed it was time to quit. She smiled, rested the sole of her foot somewhere extremely interesting, (and interested) moved it gently back and forth once or twice, winked, smiled, and sat up again. It was then I noticed her engagement ring- quite a rock actually.
I only knew her first name and over four decades later have forgotten it. We did not exchange contact details in that primitive pre-internet age, and anyway she was 'promis'd to another'. But I haven't forgotten the occasion and hope both her life and marriage were happy. I guess she'd be in her late 60s now.
'Where have all the flowers gone...'