Naughty Erotica
"Between Iceland and Greenland" a sex story by Lara Kairos
The millions of dollars of the late Ethel R. Kramer had reunited them. Her vast assets were now keeping them apart.
Karen looked at Matt in the window seat next to her. His reading light cast a sharp spot on his striped shirt and the book in his hands. He was too big for this tight space. She held back an impulse to caress his shaven cheek with her fingers.
The airplane engines droned on. High above the ocean between Iceland and Greenland, sleepy semi-darkness enveloped the Boeing cabin with all window covers drawn shut. The flight attendants in their crisp Lufthansa uniforms had retired to the rear.
She stared at the screen of her netbook. “SWOT Analysis: Mirlo Company Case.”
SWOT- Strengths, Weaknesses, Opportunities and Threats. The words reiterated in her mind. Her brain refused to focus on the assignment, due next week for her Entrepreneurship class. Karen freed her hand from under the blue synthetic blanket and put it on Matt’s knee. The backs of the seats in front of them made a good shield. How many more hours before the plane landed in Oregon? Before they would part and act as if there was nothing between them?
After the tedious conferences in Cologne on the overseas properties of the Ethel R. Kramer Estate, their weekend in Frankfurt-am-Main came and went like a dream. The foreign megalopolis embraced them, giving them shelter and freedom. Unlike in their hometown of Portland, they did not have to worry about running into acquaintances and colleagues.
Matt turned his head. A light smile crossed his face, and his hand was on her thigh. The heat from his firm hold penetrated her jeans. He was taking in the feel of her body before their parting, and Karen battled the desire rising inside her. Insistent and eager, his palm kept stroking her thigh. His hands were so good; his touch always made her want more. The passion hidden under his cool lawyer’s demeanor stirred her no end.
The anonymity of the slumberous atmosphere onboard was comforting. Karen closed her netbook and spread her blanket to cover his arm. His hand moved toward her crotch.
“You produced a killer speech in Cologne.” She leaned toward his ear. “Donovan and Donovan ought to make you a partner the moment you’re back. It should be Donovan, Donovan and Whitney!”
They had agreed not to do their work in each other’s presence or talk about it. It was their attempt to protect themselves from a breach of lawyer’s duty, and a conflict of interest. Still, their rules slid now and then. Their jobs were too big a part of their lives.
“Wish we had a paralegal who could chatter away in German like you. Old man Atkinson is giving you short shrift.”
“Not for long.” Karen stretched as his fingers caressed her between her legs. If only she could take her jeans off. “Once I get my Master’s, I’m done with Atkinson’s firm.”
“He’ll beg you to stay.”
“No way. I’d rather be a boss of my own business.” She squeezed his hand between her thighs. “No more heirs bickering over an old hag’s estate.”
A stewardess wheeled a cart with water and orange juice past them, and a brawny steward followed with his cart in the other aisle. Matt stilled, his arm hidden under the blanket.
Opening titles of a movie came on the screens under the ceiling. An adolescent couple strolled in a sunny meadow while the credits in white font ran across the picture. With a pang, Karen remembered how she and Matt kissed in high school.
Camellias were in full bloom on that clear February day. It was well past Valentine’s Day but you could kiss on any other day just fine. Matt, then a gangly boy with hair like a crow’s nest, had to bend so she could reach his face. Suddenly awkward and self-conscious, they hesitated before their lips met. She doubted they were doing it right because it was totally different in the movies. Matt’s lips were half-open and his eyes reminded her of a deer caught grazing in a backyard.
She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips against his. Then she realized she had stepped on his foot. She hastily corrected her misstep but Matt didn’t seem to notice. Their kiss was open-mouthed and wet. He tasted of root beer and chips from the school vending machine. Matt’s hand slid down her back and his touch on her butt was like an electric shock. They stood for awhile under the cover of the blooming camellias and talked of some teenage nonsense. In two weeks she declared they weren’t right for each other. After that, she avoided looking into his wounded-animal eyes for days.
Many years later, after her Bachelor of Arts from Portland State, his law degree from Stanford, a string of her loser boyfriends, his divorce, her first decent-paying paralegal job, his move back to Oregon, and Ethel R. Kramer’s death, she met him in the marble halls of the city courthouse. Her employer, Atkinson Law LLC, had locked horns with Donovan and Donovan on behalf of the warring heirs of Ethel R. Kramer, and Matt was a new attorney at the rival firm.
She had dyed her brown hair blonde and swapped her ratty backpacks for a black leather briefcase. His hairline was receding and an expensive suit showcased his stately figure. They made chitchat about Oregon rains and former classmates, and the timbre of his voice set off flutters inside her. When they exchanged good-byes, a momentary sadness in his dark eyes reminded her of the sensitive high school boy.
The forbidden fruit would always be the sweetest, and it was only a matter of time before she and Matt consummated their passion in secret, breaking the restrictions of their legal jobs.
Karen sat unmoving, his hand still on her thigh. One more year before she would graduate from the business school and quit her job. The litigation over Ethel R. Kramer’s assets seemed to draw to an end, at last. Worn out by the legal expenses and stress the heirs made little fuss in Cologne. Once the case was settled and closed, nice monies would come in, and a bonus would be very handy for starting her business. Karen had already learned the virtues of patience and perseverance.
“Do you want headphones, Karen?” Matt’s voice brought her back to reality.
“No, I’m not watching the movie. It’s so silly.” She looked at him. “Too bad we can’t kiss here like that couple onscreen.”
“Is there a statute against kissing in flight?” His voice was rich with tease.
“But we can’t do it publicly.” She squirmed under her blanket as he fingered her denim-covered crotch. “You’re driving me crazy.”
“What you need is a good, hard fuck before we land,” he said into her ear.
“Of all things.” It was no good to get too excited. Time to take a walk, stretch her legs and cool off. For this reason, Karen always opted for an aisle seat.
She glanced at other passengers. Across the aisle, a couple with three kids were asleep, oblivious to the movie and drinks. The man’s head hung on his chest and the offspring huddled in the seats between their parents.
Karen considered giving her man a hand job under the blankets after the attendants were done distributing the drinks. She dismissed the idea the same second. They needed no scandalous attention.
The stewardess came near them, and Karen asked for orange juice while Matt settled for finishing the glass of brandy already on his table.
She watched him sip the remains of his brandy and a warm feeling spread in her chest despite her chilled juice.
“Leave Atkinson’s office when the Kramer case is over,” he said. “After a reasonable amount of time we’ll make our relationship public.”
“I’d like to graduate first.” She’d gladly ditch her employer right now but life had taught her better.
“Then you owe me a fuck before we land.” His lips were near her face, and she longed for his kiss.
She knew they both wanted action, not idle chat. Boy, they had cavorted plenty in their hotel room in Frankfurt. Never had she wanted so much to rebel against reality.
The young hero onscreen was rescuing the damsel from some sort of a mudslide, her makeup strangely unaffected. Two stewardesses wearing similarly perfect makeup walked down the aisles and collected empty glasses. After the brief activity, the passengers sank back into a mid-flight stupor.
“How about a lavatory?” Matt said.
“What?” The idea was dangerously tempting.
“I don’t recall any statute against doing it in a bathroom.”
“Have you researched the international laws, Matt?”
“So far I’ve found Germans to be more lax than Americans. All those TV shows and sex shops.”
“You win.” Karen wondered how they were going to pull it off.
She checked her watch: it was still a few hours before breakfast would arrive and the people would start lining up for the bathrooms.
“Now, listen.” Matt craned his neck and surveyed the cluster of lavatories in the middle of the plane. “Nobody’s there. I’ll go in the left cabin in the center between the aisles. No one in the seats can see its door.”
“And I’ll come in after a stroll. You’ll keep the door unlocked for me.” Adrenaline surged in Karen’s body.
“Exactly.”
Karen rose from her seat to let Matt out. He walked leisurely, his shirt crumpled on his broad back. She headed in the opposite direction, toward the rear bay. There she picked a chocolate bar from a tray next to a wall mirror. The stewardesses smiled at her. Karen wondered if any of them had ever had sex in-flight.
Before taking the other aisle to the bathrooms, Karen glanced at herself in the mirror and made a mental note to go back to her natural color. Touching up the dark roots had been too much of a chore.
As she walked down the aisle, heat was rising inside her. She kept her pace slow and casual, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. By the time she reached the closed door with the green “Vacant” sign, her panties were already dampened.
She pushed the folding door, glimpsed Matt inside and quickly slid in. From the corner of her eye she saw him switch the sign to
“Occupied”.
They were crammed together in the grey plastic and steel enclosure. She placed her palm on the crotch of his pants: he was ready. When she raised her eyes, he grinned and freed his cock, darkened and jubilant against the khaki fabric. As she stroked it with her fingers, he pulled her closer for a kiss.
He tasted of the French brandy, and Karen remembered her chocolate. She moved aside, tore up the foil wrap and popped the small bar in her mouth before making him bend for another kiss.
The chocolate melted on their tongues, its taste tinted with the brandy flavor. His hands groped over her shirt and jeans, and she relished the firmness of his touch. Her bra became too constricting for her. She broke off, turned to the sink, Matt behind her, and started unbuttoning her clothes. In the mirror she could see his dark eyes watching her every movement. Soon her shirt, limp and abandoned, was hanging on a hook.
Matt slipped his hands inside her bra, and she rested her head on his shoulder as he fingered her nipples under the stretchy lace. He could do such wicked things to her tits. She was hesitant to undo the front clasp because she liked the hot pressure of his palms inside her bra. He kneaded her mounds with such a force that the clasp came apart, and her breasts spilled out, her darkened nipples squeezed between his fingers.
“You’re such a bastard,” she murmured.
“My panties are soaked, and I’ve got no spare pair!”
He laughed and his baritone penetrated her down to her pussy, “Off with your jeans and panties!”
“You’re still dressed,” she reproached him while wrestling out of her clothes. The tight space seemed to multiply their body heat.
“Motivate me to undress.”
The rest of her clothes already on the hook, she glanced at the locked door. The engine noise drowned out all sounds outside. In the mirror, her nudity was stark against the grey walls.
“Move back a little, Matt.”
He complied, and she turned around to face him. His member jutted out, hard and eager for her. She drew her manicured fingernail along its length.
In an impulse act, he pushed his pants and boxers down, baring his strong legs of a bicyclist. She squatted, her naked butt pressed against the steel of the washstand, and circled the tip of his cock with her tongue, then took him in her mouth. He shifted, and she knew he was moaning from her touch, although she couldn’t hear it over the drone of the engines.
Her tongue caressed his cock with force, and her fingers fondled his balls, intent on driving him to the heights of carnal pleasure. When she looked up, he had already dumped his shirt by the sink. She grazed the underside of his member with her teeth, and his hands gripped her head.
She took him in deeper, her palms planted on his thighs.
Keeping Time by Carolyn Weltman
“Enough!” His arms pulled her up, as he sat down on the closed toilet lid. She leaned against the washstand, its edge cutting into her buttocks. Her neatly trimmed pubic hair was right in front of his face, and she relished it. Grooming her intimate parts had been her secret pride lately.
He put his hand on her hip and leaned forward, stroking her pussy with his other hand. The sensation of his fingers digging into her set off a throb in her lower body.
She steadied herself by placing her hands on both sides of the sink behind her. Her man was damn good at torturing her clit, and she submitted to the agonizing pleasure he inflicted on her.
“You’re a fucking hot girl.” His voice was growing hoarse from his arousal.
She chuckled and shook her breasts for him to see. A wild idea came to her mind. “I want to have my nipples pierced when I graduate.”
“You’re evil.”
He nipped her clit hard, and she arched back. “Man, you’re devil incarnate!”
“You like it, don’t you?” His fingers were teasing her intimate folds, making her sway and struggle to suppress her moans.
Suddenly he stopped. She straightened up, worried that someone was trying to enter the bathroom.
She was wrong. Nobody was intruding on them. Matt was simply sitting still, his gaze fixed on her. His expression made her feel like a marble Venus. She had witnessed this state of his before, and every time it perplexed her. For goodness sake, she was no ideal beauty. Still, his reverence elevated her, and she basked in his adoration.
Leaning forward, she kissed him, and he answered earnestly. Their mouths molded together. She straddled his lap, preparing to mount his erect cock. He trailed kisses down her chin and neck, and then his lips were on her breast, his member lodged against her pubic bone. This time his caresses were gentle and deliberate, as he alternated between her nipples. His change of tempo aroused her ever more. She wove her fingers into his hair, savoring the sensations his tongue and lips inflicted on her. She wanted to prolong this moment before the final stage.
It didn’t last long because men weren’t the same as women. In no time he was inside her, his face buried in her bosom, and she began riding him, up and down. Her mind was lost in the fog of her lust. Oblivious of their surroundings, she was all attuned to him and her own body.
His hands gripped her hips, and she knew he was coming soon. She slipped her hand between their bodies to massage her clit and bring on her orgasm together with his.
Her insatiable pussy worked his cock, hugging and rubbing it, and she could go at it forever.
The moment he threw his head back she was already nearing her climax. In a split second he shuddered and pressed his mouth against her breast to muffle his cry. Her own orgasm cascaded through her body, momentarily blinding her.
They slumped against each other, spent and sated. The plane engines kept droning, faithfully carrying them together with the full cabin of passengers over the Atlantic.
“Hope no one is waiting outside yet.”
Karen clambered to her feet and inspected herself, sweaty and disheveled, in the mirror.
“It’s still a long way until Portland.” Matt rubbed his face. “Hey, could you make it to Seattle next weekend?”
“I’ll call you during the week.” She hoped her boss wouldn’t overburden her with drafting pleadings and affidavits in the matter of the Ethel R. Kramer Estate.
Matt rose and put his arms around her.
“Come for the trip, sweetie.”
Their last kiss was long and languid. After they cleaned up and got dressed, Karen peeked out the door. An old man hobbled into the passage, and she was about to pull the door shut, but he went into the opposite bathroom. Relieved, she slipped out and headed back to her seat.
In a minute, Matt joined her. As she let him to his seat, Karen looked around wondering if anyone noticed their disappearance. In the seat across the aisle, the man was still asleep, his head now lolling on his shoulder. His son’s blond head rested in his lap.
A stewardess came up, carrying a tray with a few remaining glasses of water. She flashed her professional smile at them, and Karen gladly accepted the refreshing drink. Matt followed suit. They held each other’s hand under the blankets while sipping the water.
Onscreen, the young couple was riding on horseback past a castle, and the gold-trimmed bridle shone bright in the sun. Closing titles streamed across the screens and the cheery scene dissolved in the dark background.
Karen looked at Matt: He was fast asleep, with his head nestled on the small pillow between his shoulder and cabin wall. She inserted his empty glass in hers and handed them to an attendant.
A bright blue-green map appeared on the screens. The yellow line charting the course had lengthened, and the tiny airplane symbol was now almost near Greenland.
From Iceland to Greenland, from the land of cold and ice to the land of life and greenery. The phrase repeating in her mind had nothing to do with the actual landscapes, only with the names. Karen yawned, pulled her blanket and closed her eyes. She was going to dream of their escape to Seattle the next weekend.
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Copyright October 2011, Lara Kairos
Published with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.
Copyright October 2011, Lara KairosPublished with permission from author on OystersandChocolate.com. Copying or reprinting this work in part or in whole without permission is illegal.