It's not everyday someone reaches out for a shameless promotion, but I love being asked and I love doing them! (I have another one next week, too!)
This week's promotion is for Flying High: Sexy Stories from the Mile High Club, an anthology edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel with a forward by Alison Tyler, and published by Cleis Press. There will be a review coming at a future date, too.
Introduction: Joining the Mile High Club
The Mile High Club is, for many, the stuff of legend, but I’m here to tell you that where there’s a will, there’s a way. Flying can bring out so many of our insecurities, fears, and frustrations, that it’s natural we’d want to find a way to relieve all that tension by getting it on. Indeed, several of the stories here deal with sex as a way to conquer a fear of flying.
Just as I was completing this volume, I got a call from a friend who told me that on the way back from a family vacation, he got it on with a woman he ran into on the plane whom he’d known, but never slept with. They managed to have full-on intercourse (and much more) as the rest of the passengers slept–or so they thought! They found out later that they’d been true exhibitionists, seen by horny voyeurs.
In these stories, characters are often surprised to find themselves engaging in such risqué behavior midflight. The surprise and naughtiness make what’s happening even hotter. For others, it’s been carefully orchestrated, such as the woman meeting her online pen pal in “34B” or the one putting her arsenal of sex toys to good use in “Obedient.”
Other scenarios are more fanciful, and, unless you’re really lucky, are probably not going to happen to you. Part of the thrill of even thinking about the mile high club is that in such close quarters, someone’s bound to notice the movements, noises, and sensations of sex happening near him or her. Voyeurism and exhibitionism are part and parcel of sex on a plane, even if you never officially get caught.
I’m sure you are probably picturing getting it on in a tiny airplane bathroom, and yes, that happens here. But there’s more than one way to join the Mile High Club, as the “Wild Child” in the story by Matt Conklin learns when her kinky new friend asks for some extra ice. And in “Bermuda Triangle,” we’re introduced to a threesome that takes edge play to new heights, as a man is blindfolded and instructed to fly, his fear upping the ante for the novel sexual encounter about to take place.
While this isn’t a how-to manual, I’m sure you can pick up a few tips on the fine art of blanket placement and in-flight discretion from these talented writers. Alas, during the numerous flights I’ve taken in the last year, nothing so risqué has happened to me, but that hasn’t stopped me from fantasizing about what might be going on a few rows over, or wondering, as I stand in the security line, who might try to pick me up. I love that Wi-Fi is the wave of the flying future, as I write about in my story “Urgent Message,” and I’m looking forward to much in-the-air flirting.
Whether you’re a member of the Mile High Club or just want to be, I hope these stories take you on some exciting trips, and that your next plane ride is just as eventful! Please feel free to share your story or keep up with what’s new in plane sex at my blog at http://flyinghighbook.tumblr.com/.
Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City
From “A Brief Respite” by Desiree
Flying High edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel
I was getting wet thinking of Henry the flight attendant. So much so that I forgot I was sitting next to Drew. As Henry walked up and down the cabin, his thigh lightly grazed my arm.
We were taking off soon and Drew, in his usual gregarious manner, started to make conversation with Henry. I was annoyed. This was my piece. Drew asked him if the color of his eyes was real. I rolled mine.
“It’s real,” he replied, showing no sign that he’d taken offense at Drew’s tacky question. I could tell the color of his eyes was genuine because I had been staring, and colored contact lenses have a decidedly fake look to them, especially in person. Henry the flight attendant looked back and forth between me and Drew. “So you’re headed to Chicago,” he said. “You live there?”
“My parents live there,” Drew answered. “We live in New York. We’re just visiting.”
Henry looked amused. “So you two are a couple?”
Drew smiled widely and I almost felt bad. “Yes.”
“Aww,” answered Henry, looking straight at me.
It wasn’t an “Oh, how cute, you two are adorable together” kind of aww. It was an “I feel badly for you. Come, let me show you what a real man is like” kind of aww.
I frowned. He didn’t need to rub it in. I pulled the mask over my eyes and tried to get some sleep for real. But I wasn’t sleepy. You know how you can’t sleep when you’re incredibly horny? My thoughts kept drifting to Henry the flight attendant: his smooth caramel skin, his deep silky voice; his wonderfully strong-looking hands. And his ass because yes, I looked. The blue uniform pants complemented his behind in a lovely way.
I looked over at Drew. I would have sucked my teeth out loud if I hadn’t caught myself. Later, Henry came walking down the cabin with his beverage cart. “And what can I get for you, miss?” he cooed.
“I’ll have a ginger ale.”
When he handed me the cup, his fingers accidentally brushed mine. Now he was certainly flirting with me. This had to stop because it was only aggravating my condition. I gulped down my soda, hoping that the cool rush would help to curb the tingling between my legs. It didn’t. We were in the first row so I could see Henry in his quarters. He was eating. He must have felt me staring at him because he looked up from his plate, put down his utensils and leaned back in his chair, eyes on me the entire time. He smiled a disarming smile and held my gaze until my eyes traveled lower and stopped on his lips just as he was bringing the lower one between his teeth. The smile widened. It was a look that said plainly, “We both know I could make you feel more pleasure than he ever could.” My breath caught. I glanced over at Drew, who was in his own world, happily listening to his iPod.
I decided I needed to go to the bathroom, with the intention of getting myself off. Maybe after the release I could sleep and maybe I’d stop salivating every time I looked at Henry. I hurried to the back of the plane. The bathroom was occupied. Shit, I thought. It was only a few minutes, however, until the passenger came out. I went in and closed the door behind me. I undid my fly and slid my jeans down around my ankles. I dipped a finger into my pussy. I was soaking wet. I brought my finger to my nose and inhaled. I was intoxicated by the scent. I licked my finger and then circled it around my clit, letting out what I hoped was a barely audible moan. My hand was Henry’s hand and he stroked my clit up and down, back and forth and in tiny circles, making my breath quicken and my nipples stand erect. I reached into my shirt and pulled out one breast, bringing the darkened bud of the nipple to my lips. I stuck my tongue out and flicked at it. My tongue was Henry’s tongue, warm, hungry. I kept working at my clit with my other hand and I was shuddering, seconds away from orgasm, when there came a knock on the door.
“Are you okay?”
It was Henry’s voice.
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