Phoenix Rising Read online

  When Robby’s hand came in contact with my thigh, I could feel him turn his head, and he made an attempt to move his hand back. A feeble, half- hearted attempt despite his strength, and I unfolded his fingers from mine, placing his palm on the inside of my thigh and guiding it under my skirt.

  “Anne...” he said, looking around to see if anyone was watching. “We shouldn’t...”

  “Shhh...” I whispered, running my other hand over his chest, his shoulder, his neck, gently turning his cheek until we were facing. “Please kiss me...”

  “Anne...” he said again, hesitating for a moment as our faces moved closer and closer. I tilted my head and closed my eyes, feeling his lips touch mine, opening my mouth to accept his tongue, feeling it melt into mine. I guided his hand up my thigh, towards the heat between my legs, feeling his fingers brush against the crotch of my panties.

  I brought Robby’s other hand to my breasts, and he gently cupped and squeezed them through my silk blouse. Undoing a couple of buttons, I guided his hand inside my shirt, letting him fondle my small tits through my bra. As he circled my nipples through the thin lacy cotton, I put my hand on his thigh, slowly moving up towards his crotch until I could feel his hardness, tracing the outline of his cock with my fingers.

  We kissed quietly, slowly, gently exploring each other as the rest of the passengers on the plane watched the movie or read their in-flight magazines. Even though the plane was barely half-full, I wouldn’t have cared if it had been crowded with travelers. I wanted this young, handsome stranger more than anything right now, and as I squirmed in my seat I thought about having him right there on the striped blue cushions.

  “Count to a hundred and follow me,” I said, breaking off our kiss. I straightened my clothing and buttoned my blouse before getting up and stepping over his legs into the aisle. A middle-aged man a couple of rows back glanced up at me and then returned his attention to the movie. I walked to the back of the plane, swaying my slim hips, knowing that Robby was watching me. Choosing the last lavatory on the left, I went inside, locking the door behind me. The lights and ventilator hummed to life as I slid the indicator to “OCCUPIED/OCCUPADO”.

  I checked myself in the mirror, brushing my hair out with my fingers. It had grown back in the year since I’d stayed at the shelter, and I kept it trimmed so it fell just above my shoulders, with blonde bangs framing my face. Wishing I had brought my lipstick with me, I counted to one hundred under my breath. I’d only gotten as far as seventy-two when there was a soft knocking at the lavatory door. Sliding the lock open dimmed the lights. Robby stepped inside, locking the door behind him. Without a word, we kissed again.

  There was barely enough room to stand, and he was so tall I had to stand on my toes. Our lips met, our hands roaming over each other’s body, our legs intertwined. I could feel his hardness through his blue trousers, and I ground my thigh against him, softly moaning as he unbuttoned my blouse and slipped his hand inside it. Robby slipped his other hand under my skirt, cupping my bottom and pulling me up, higher, until my feet were off the floor.

  I reached between us and began to unbuckle his belt, unbuttoning his trousers, pulling his zipper down and pushing his pants off of his hips. Robby let me down, back on to my feet. I slid down his chest and sat down on the lid of the toilet, pulling his boxer shorts down with me, freeing his cock from its confinement. In the cramped confines of this lavatory, the tip of his penis was barely a tongue length away from my lips.

  Compared to his overall height, his cock seemed of average length and girth, but here in this tiny space, where it was so close to my face, his manhood seemed huge. I took it in my hands and slowly wrapped my fingers around his shaft, extending my tongue to lick the shiny smear of pre-ejaculate on his glans. He gasped as I opened my lips and accepted him inside my mouth. As my lips sunk lower, towards a nest of curly auburn pubes that were a few shades darker than his dirty blond hair, Robby reached down and gently caressed my cheek, now bulging with his hard meat.

  I’ve sucked cock for any number of reasons: for love, for money, to make a man hard, to make him come when I was too sore to fuck, to clean our juices from him afterwards, to wake him up, to put him to sleep. This was one of those times when I sucked a man’s cock so I could watch his face, to see his pleasure, to know the effect I had on his body. To control him, not in the manipulative sense, not in the sense of bondage, though there was certainly an element of discipline involved. The closest analogy I could think of was that of horse and rider, that by using my mouth and hands I was able to guide him towards his pleasure at the pace of my choosing, the way an equestrian steers his mount with reins and stirrups.

  I put Robby through his paces, starting slowly, pulling my lips back over his shaft and lingering before sinking back down, swirling my tongue over his swollen glans each time. I cupped his balls with one hand and used the other to encircle the base of his cock, holding his skin taut. Then I picked up the pace, a gentle canter, using my tongue to concentrate on the underside of his shaft, a spot just past the head, an area that I knew would feel good for him.

  Robby began to move his hips as I sucked him, just barely, just enough to make his shaft glide over my lips a bit faster. I immediately slowed down, sucking him harder, immobilizing him, stopping his hips. I gradually sped up again, lashing him with my tongue as I sucked him, and his hips resumed their gently rocking until I slowed down again, more suction, more friction, lightly grazing my teeth over his shaft. He gasped again, closed his eyes, and stayed perfectly still as I gobbled his thick tool.

  I began to suck him faster again, working my way up to a full gallop, when he tugged at my arms, bringing me to my feet and kissing me on the lips; a hard kiss, a wet kiss, a passionate kiss. Robby lifted me by my hips and sat me down on a small shelf that ran along the bulkhead opposite the sink and mirror, kissing me again as he slipped his hands under my skirt and tugged at my underwear. I put my hands on the shelf and lifted my bottom so he could pull off my panties, and he slid the lacy white bikini down my thighs and off my legs. Then Robby knelt on the tiny floor and pushed his face under my skirt, kissing my hungry sex before probing me with a warm, wet tongue.

  I lifted my skirt around my waist so I could watch him eat me, hoisting my legs and draping them over his shoulders. I could see our reflection in the mirror on the opposite bulkhead, my clothes askew, his head between my legs, his closely-cropped blond hair shining as it moved up and down, back and forth, side to side. I felt my own pleasure begin to build, the tension in my belly that had grown while I had sucked him becoming a nest of butterflies, and then a flock of doves, compounded by the danger of getting caught and the sheer excitement of a new lover.

  He ate me out well, with a man’s strength and boldness as opposed to a woman’s patience and finesse. Robby had no trouble finding my clit, either, unlike some men I’d known, and he could have easily made me come right then, had I not tugged at his shoulder to make him stop. I wanted to come, but with his big beautiful cock inside me.

  “I have a condom,” Robby whispered as he got up from his knees.

  “We won’t need one,” I said, pulling him closer and kissing him on the lips. I reached down between us and took hold of his tool, guiding it between my legs, towards my cleft, rubbing the tip over my moist labia. Robby pushed forward with his hips and his glans penetrated my lips, finding my hungry hole and slowly filling it. As the rest of his shaft pressed inside me, I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and scooted closer to the edge of the shelf. Robby nuzzled my neck, kissing and nibbling me as he cupped my bare bottom, pulling me in to meet his first thrust.

  “So good...,” he murmured, pulling back and lingering with just his glans inside me before thrusting inward again.

  “Fill me,” I whispered, urging him to go deeper within my passage, to take me completely, totally. I watched our reflection over his shoulder, seeing his shirt tail flap over his butt, his thighs tensing with every thrust. I dug my heels into h
is ass and urged him to pump me faster, to bring me to my release. Perched on this narrow shelf, my ass in his strong hands, I wasn’t able to meet his thrusts. But for spurring him on with my heels, I was under his control now.

  “Faster...,” I whispered, “...harder...”. Robby eagerly complied, his column of flesh stirring my little honeypot quicker, deeper, making me tremble with delight in his hands. I began to moan as that feeling began to spread from my belly, and I pressed my mouth against his shoulder to muffle myself, hoping I couldn’t be heard outside the lavatory.

  There was bump of turbulence, then another, and then one more. I tightened my hold on Robby, clinging to him as he slid me back and forth on his pole. Was it the weather? The plane? I didn’t care. We could fall to Earth in a ball of fire, and so long as I could feel him inside me during my last moments I would die a happy girl.

  And that was it, that was what sent me over the edge. On top of the danger, the excitement, and above all the feeling of his cock in my hungry pussy, the thought that I could die fucking this handsome blond warrior of the sky made me come, long and hard. I clamped my lips down on his shoulder, but even so, my cry of passion filled the intimate little space. My limbs quivered, shuddered, stiffened in our embrace as my orgasm took control of my body, making my cunny spasm around his thrusting tool. I clamped my kegel muscles down on his shaft as he buried himself inside me, the ridge of his pubic bone pressing against my swollen clit, sending me over a second, higher peak.

  “Robby...Robby...come for me...,” I urged him, running my hands over his broad back, relaxing my legs around his waist. I tightened myself around his tool again, squeezing him with my pussy, trying to bring him to his climax. There was a hesitation in his thrusts, just a hitch in the rhythm of his hips, and he began to twitch inside me, filling me with his hot juice.

  “Anne,” Robby sighed, kissing my neck, his hips slowing down, his grip on my bottom relaxing. “Anne...” I turned my head and found his lips with my own, kissing him, our tongues melting together as his thrusting ceased. He lowered me back down to the shelf, his softening cock slipping from my cleft. I felt his semen begin to ooze from my sex, pooling on the beige plastic shelf.

  Robby straightened up and I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his breathing, his heartbeat, as he gently stroked my hair. There was another rumble of turbulence, and a “FASTEN SEATBELT” sign next to the door came on.

  “We should get back,” Robby said, reaching down to pull up his trousers.

  “You go first,” I said. “I’ll follow.”

  “Okay,” he said, buckling his belt and kissing me. I locked the door behind him and began to straighten my clothing, buttoning my blouse, finding my panties on the floor and pulling them on, wiping up the sperm that had dripped on to the shelf. Robby’s cum was oozing from my messy slit, so I made an improvised mini-pad from a paper towel and slipped it into the crotch of my undies. Before I left the lavatory, I checked my skirt for telltale stains. Fortunately, it had been bunched up around my waist while we’d been fucking.

  I placed my hand on the lock, wondering what I’d find when I left the lavatory. I’d tried my best to muffle my cries, nearly biting Robby’s shoulder in the process. But the door was thin, and someone could have heard us. Would the pilot be waiting for me? Did we break some sort of FAA regulation? Would there be a group of flight attendants in the galley, scowling at me as I passed by?

  There was no one in the aisle outside the bathroom, and the one attendant in the galley didn’t bother to look up. I walked back to my seat.

  “The stewardess came by when you were still in there,” Robby said, standing up so I could slide into my seat. “I didn’t know if you wanted anything. Is soda okay?”

  “That’s fine, thanks,” I said, sitting down and taking his hand. “That’s sweet of you.” Robby glanced around and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before the flight attendant arrived with our drinks, pouring a half can of soda into two clear plastic cups filled with ice, and placing a miniature bottle of bourbon on Robby’s tray.

  “Could I get one of those?” I asked her. She looked at me and then at Robby.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s with me.” The flight attendant smiled and pulled another one of the tiny bottles from a shelf on her cart. Robby tipped her with a couple of bills pulled from his shirt pocket and she moved on down the aisle. We poured the bourbon into our cups of Coke and stirred them with plastic swizzle sticks embossed with the airline’s logo.

  “To the ‘Mile High Club’,” Robby whispered, lifting his cup for a toast.

  “Mile High Club?” I asked.

  “If you’ve had sex in an aircraft, you’ve joined the ‘Mile High Club’,” he said. “Actually, it should be the ‘Eight Mile High Club’, considering our present altitude.”

  “To the Eight Mile High Club,” I said, clinking my plastic cup against his. As we sat together and sipped our drinks, I snuggled against him and looked out the window. The storm clouds had passed, and the verdant landscape below us began to yield to buff colored hills, broken by the occasional forest.

  “Oklahoma, maybe the Texas Panhandle,” Robby said, nearly reading my mind as I wondered where we were.

  “What a big country this is,” I said. It’s one thing to look at a map, but it’s entirely different to fly its breadth, even more so to drive across it, I thought. I was too young to remember flying to Chicago with my mother, but I remembered driving up the East Coast with Ramon and my stepbrothers, watching the palms of Florida give way to pines, then oaks and maples as we neared Maine. It had taken most of three days.

  I held Robby’s hand and leaned against his shoulder as he described his first flight as an EWO, sitting in the upper deck of an Air Force bomber, behind the pilot and co-pilot as they flew north from Louisiana, over the country, over Canada, almost to the North Pole to what he called the “fail safe point”, carrying a load of nuclear weapons, waiting for the coded message that would send them into the Soviet Union.

  “Were you scared?” I asked. Julia had taken me a few times to see films at the little cinema in Coopersport, a place that mostly screened foreign movies and older Hollywood flicks. One night we saw “Dr. Strangelove”, a movie that left me baffled, as most of the black humor had gone right over my head. But now I could picture Robby in the cockpit, in his flight suit and helmet, his face glued to a radar screen as Soviet missiles homed in on the plane.

  “Not really. Well, a little,” he admitted. “They train you hard, drills and proficiency tests and stuff like that, so when something happens you just do your job. Truth is, flying is pretty boring most of the time.”

  “I don’t believe you,” I laughed.

  “It’s true,” he replied. “‘Hours of boredom mixed with seconds of terror’ is what our instructor used to say.”

  I snuggled closer to him, trying to resist the urge to shudder. War scared me, nuclear weapons especially, ever since grade school when we’d have “duck and cover” drills in class or when our teacher would march us into the gym, our school’s fallout shelter. The Cuban Missile Crisis had occurred over five years before I was born, but in Florida the Cold War hysteria had lingered.

  Looking out the window, the hills began to yield to desert, copper and crimson colored in the late afternoon sunlight, broken only by purplish ridges and only the occasional patch of green. Robby had his arm around me, and I leaned my head against his chest, listening to his breathing.

  This was beyond the definition of the “zipless fuck”, the after-sex cuddle, the closeness, the feeling of his gentle caresses. True, I’d probably never see him again after we landed, but at that moment I felt like I’d known him forever, and that we’d always be together. I closed my eyes, just to rest them, but I ended up drifting off to sleep in his embrace.

  We were flying in my dream, in the bomber from “Dr. Strangelove”. Robby was at a radar console, calling out the range of incoming missiles. I was on the floor of the cockpit, holding
on for dear life as the plane jinked and banked between mountains, dodging missiles that looked like rocket-propelled telephone poles. Major Kong was at the controls, and he turned his head and barked an order to me, incomprehensible words, a jargon I couldn’t understand. Somehow, I knew what I had to do.

  I was in the bomb bay of the airplane, kicking at the clamshell doors, climbing on top of the nuclear weapon and reaching for a severed wire, brilliant blue sparks flying past my head. I could smell the acrid stench of burning hair from where the sparks landed on my shoulders, barely able to reach the two parts of the wire and twist the ends together.

  And then I was falling, falling, falling, my legs clamped around the bomb, dropping towards the tundra below. I clung to the weapon, and suddenly the cold white-painted metal became skin, bumps and veins and follicles, warm and soft and hard at the same time. I opened my mouth to scream...

  The chime of the “FASTEN SEATBELTS” sign roused me from my nap, and the sound of the airliner’s engines changed, lowering in pitch and volume.

  “We’re landing soon,” Robby said, his arm still around me.

  “Oh. How long was I asleep?”

  “Less than an hour,” he said. “You seemed like you were having a dream or something.”

  “Yeah, it was weird.” Just a fragment remained. I straightened up in my seat and buckled my seatbelt as the pilot announced our arrival in Phoenix. Just a few minutes more. I took Robby’s hand in mine and squeezed it.

  From our rapidly decreasing altitude, Phoenix looked like a patchwork of green and brown squares under a hazy sky. The plane banked and then leveled off again, and I heard a mechanical whine beneath my feet.

  “Flaps,” Robby said, pointing out the window to the wing, showing me how they extended from the trailing edge. The sound of the engines changed once again, and there was another series of thumps below the cabin floor. “Landing gear,” he said, starting a running commentary on what was happening. “Turning for final approach...throttle back...nose up...”