By Sasha Belov   


High above the Indian Ocean, long white streaks trailed the wings a small commercial plane. From below, they resembled the wedding veil of a runaway bride, dashing full-tilt into the wind. On board, Gwendolyn and Brett were running away from something, but it was not each other. They were shamelessly infatuated with one another.

Still feeling a little frisky, they seated themselves back in First Class. They had just finished joining the mile-high club, or at least they had just finished joining as a couple. Neither was a stranger to sex, flying, or the combination of both. Brett motioned for two flutes of Dom Pérignon, and they toasted simply and wordlessly, betraying only a knowing smile. They both knew full well what they were celebrating.

Gwendolyn crossed her legs and gently grazed her neckline with a finger, her hand as delicate and poised as one of Degas’ ballerinas. Her small breasts were still perspiring lightly beneath her beige summer dress. Brazenly following the trail of her fingers, Brett’s gaze paused on one of her open buttonholes. The look of it, skin-tone and slit open, transported him to a recent moment in the bathroom when his eyes were fixed lower on her body. The resemblance charmed him.

Brett had rugged good looks and sandy blonde hair. In a past life, he might have been a tattooed Scandinavian deckhand or an Olympic contending high diver. His slender, toned body looked especially inviting in a swimsuit, and Gwendolyn had been looking forward to touching his body wet with ocean water and kissing his salty lips. She watched them admiringly.

“We’ll touch down soon,” he said and she nodded, still watching.

They would arrive in Malé, the capital of the Maldives, resort islands prized for their privacy. Brett could afford it, having been born with the mind and muscle of a tycoon. Gwendolyn often said that he had the Midas touch, that everything he touched turned to gold, and he often responded that she had been golden long before he ever touched her.

“Have I told you about the glowing tide?” he asked, stroking a short section of her finger with his.

“I’m listening,” she said, curling a soft fist beneath her chin.

“On one of the northern shores, there are billions of luminescent organisms in the water. The movement of the waves shakes them into emitting a bright blue light. The whole shore is covered with glowing water.”

“Perfect,” she replied, “Will you teach them to shine gold?”

When they landed, they donned sunglasses and made their way to the chartered speedboat Brett had arranged beforehand. He turned the key and revved the powerful engine with an enormous smile, the careless grin that he reserved only for her, and they sped off toward the island.

Once out of sight, Gwendolyn slipped in front of Brett, who was standing at the helm and keeping the boat on its heading. The wind was rippling through her hair, exposing an ear, and he nibbled at it gently. It was a favorite trick of his to remove her earrings with his teeth, and he did it now as effortlessly as always. He loved the enclave of her long neck, how ticklish she could be, and how unfailingly erotic she found his wet, massaging lips.

She bent forward, placing her hands on the instruments and pressing her ass into him. She swayed back and forth, moving in sideways figure-8 pattern, then turned around and said with her eyes, “I could do this forever.” They had a sexual language in these moments. He would press his hips forward and she would begin to shake, her cheeks bouncing left and right, left and right over him. When he pulled back, she would switch into a slow, soft grind.

Sensing that he was swelling underneath his zipper, and knowing that he had fantasized about this scenario, she turned around and slid her dress off her shoulders. Then, with practiced hands, she unbuttoned his shirt. As the last one broke loose, she returned her hands to his neck, softly ran her fingertips down the toned terrain of his chest and torso, and narrowed in on the belt buckle that seemed begging for release. Tossing it aside, she lowered herself and his pants simultaneously. The bulge beneath was unreal, as though he had stuffed a fist inside. Opening her mouth wide, she gave it soft, playful bites through his underwear, looking up to see if he was watched her or the ocean. He was watching her, and he wanted it so bad he had already begun to calmly control his breathing. He wanted it to last. She pulled down the elastic carefully, keeping pressure on his cock so that it would fling upward once she finally pulled far enough. It was a sight she had never grown tired of. She pulled so far the elastic almost couldn’t stretch farther. It bounced upward, and her eyes lit up in fond appreciation.


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