Airports make me horny!

Huge, steel and fluorescent, sterile, impersonal, eternally cacophonous, they have only one redeeming attraction...and that redeeming attraction is women.

Airports always seem to be flooded with women! Do more women fly than men? Are there more female workers and visitors at airports than male? I don't know the answer to that , but it doesn't matter which airport I go to, anywhere in the world, every one of them is always brimming with beautiful women.

I had cause to visit our local airport today, and I spent an enjoyable hour or so admiring the crowds of ladies as they wafted on by.

Across the square, the most exquisite pair of breasts that I have ever clapped eyes on. The size of twin soccer balls, they are sheathed in a tight white vest, and, otherwise unconstrained by any man-made structure, they bounce and jiggle and juggle and throb and leap around inside the thin material like a pair of fat rabbits fornicating in a small flour sack. A pair of fine sharp nipples chisel at the vest like a convict scraping his way to freedom with a ball-point pen. My jaw drops and the whole airport comes to a standstill and holds its breath in a collective gob-smacked awe. The incredible super-structure struts off across the concourse, and I am vaguely aware that it tapers down to a fine pert booty in tight denim jeans, and, below that, to long strong sleek thighs, narrowing down lithely, and culminating in a pair of towering red high heels.

I am mesmerized.

But only for a mere moment

Coming towards me is a tall, lovely looking creamy skinned Air Hostess with her dark hair drawn back severely into a bun. Perfectly manicured and made up, she is squeezed into a clingy silk blouse and a formal dark blue waist-coat, a tight form fitting knee length pencil skirt, and creamy satin stockings with black high heel shoes. She has swollen heavy breasts and they thrust against her waist coat as if planning their escape. Her arse, contoured by the skirt, is simply magnificent, and as the material tapers, it ends at strong muscular calves and fine petite ankles.

My waitress is tall and lithe and lean and slender as a reed, with chocolate cream skin and the face of an angel. Well worth the ridiculously high price of a cup of insipid coffee and a greasy toasted sandwich.

She has pouty, swollen lips and fine features with glowing almond eyes and a mane of bronze plaits cascading down her back, all the way to her impossibly slim waist. A pert tight arse... with cheeks that just gasp to be parted... and long shapely legs on tiny neat feet in shiny gold sandals

But it's her breasts that totally captivate me, and complete this peerless example of perfect youthful Zulu maiden sensuality. Large and swollen and thrusting and teasing and tumescent, they are seemingly out of place on such a slim woman, a paradox if you will, yet she bears them unselfconsciously and with pride, her shoulders drawn back and her neck long and regal...and one can just make out the feint outline of large dark areolae and taught hard nipples behind her silky pink blouse.

My cock is tapping impatiently against the undersideof the table and it takes ALL of my willpower NOT to offer her R500,00 for a quickie in the cubicle of the nearby men's rest room.

By now I am horny. l am exremely horny!

I call up The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, who just happens to live in a complex very close to this very airport......

As always a good read! Was drawn to your title which reminded me of Peter Sarstedt! ;)

A nice glass of red wine, some chocolate and a story from WHITEGREY...... (Galaxy utters a sigh of contentment).... my life is complete! ;)

Feeling horny this afternoon, on an impulse I picked up a young white chic. Diabolical, properly one of my worst punts ever. All the cliches were there in evidence, but i still went through with it anyway

Story to follow soon...

Airport trip coming up tomorrow....time for a revisit to The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.

Oh my!!!

Aye, I was at ORT airport last night.

Here I walked past an Emirates air hostesses who made me blink with the pure milky whiteness of her complexion and a pair of the bluest eyes I have ever seen. Pure Caucasian. She is certainly a foreigner to this sultry country of ours. She had on a red cap with a poor excuse for a scarf draped over her head. The stark contrast between her red lipstick and her fair face was something to behold. I had much ado trying not to stare at her.
I watched her help a family of very conservative Muslims in full religious garb, the men in white particolored skullcaps and the ladies in full black hijabs with ony their eyes visible. And she did it with such grace and charm tilting her head to the side when asking a question and listening intently to their responses.
After bidding a tearful farewell to my (girl)friend it was time to head home.

But not before I was fleeced with R110 for the parking- because I had exceeded 40 minutes.

Gorgeous Laura...you will be at this self same airport to catch that awful 6am flight tomorrow morning.

Good luck Beautiful Girl...till we meet again.

On 2018-08-13 20:27:14 WHITEGRAY said:
Gorgeous Laura...you will be at this self same airport to catch that awful 6am flight tomorrow morning.

Good luck Beautiful Girl...till we meet again.

Indeed. Did I tell you about the encounter I had in the Cape Town Slo Lounge... I should write and share those details with you :)

...and perhaps Durban airport could be Chapter 2 of that story xxx

Ooooooh, I miss the energy of an Airport! *nudge nudge...*

My working week in Cape Town at an end, I was gasping for a good Scotch, some late-night recreational fucking and a bubble bath (the latter unlikely in the Mother City). This one evening left in town, I was planning on making the most of it and could at least look forward to the satisfaction of the former two cravings.

Sliding on a demure grey calf length dress, a wicked smile on my red lips, I decide on fishnets for underneath. Discarding the idea of panties altogether as they'll only land up in my handbag before the second drink is ordered. Little black ankle boots with wickedly pointed heels and I'm ready to head out to meet my lover.

I could dally here and indulge you and I both in the memories of sexy escapades in a restaurant and various cocktail bars in CBD - images of a cherry from my drink being slowly pushed between my lips, kissed with the fruit rolling around sweet and sticky on our tongues - but perhaps those musings deserve their own chapter so we'll fast-forward my tale to Sunday afternoon.

A tad lacking in sleep, I keep my oversized shades firmly on and whip through the check-in process to collapse into a squishy armchair in the Slo Lounge.

"Do you want a drink, woman? It will cheer you up"

Glancing over at my companion, I shake my head.

"Coffee. With chocolate.Lots of both"

Eyes lingering on him as he walks away, admiring those shoulders under his shirt. That ass... Jesus, the man has a fine ass. My mind is wandering back to digging my nails into said fine ass in the shower earlier that day, legs around his waist and my back pressed against the cold tiles, cumming so hard I saw stars.

I pick up my phone and fire off a quick text. "Fuck the coffee. Meet me in the ladies. Go now."

Getting up from my chair, my skinny jeans pressing into my clit with every move, I'm throbbing and aching for his cock to be back inside me. Slinking into the last door of the ladies restrooms, I throw a quick glance over my shoulder and grin as I see him turning the corner behind me. No ordinary loo for the Slo Lounge patrons, these fresh little "Room with a View" cubicles furnish me with ample space - and indeed, a view over the runway. A strong hand and a firm grip distract me from any further contemplations of airport design. He's pushing me up against the floor-to-ceiling window with his entire body and pulling my hair from behind, the other hand roaming inside my shirt to find my hardened nipples - squeezing and pinching, softly then harder until I can't stop myself from moaning. I start to voice a thought and he bites down on my neck, growling at me. Ducking down and out of his grip, I twist around and drop to my knees in front of him - I have his belt undone and the sound of those Levi buttons popping open are sweet music to my ears. No time for sensuality in this moment, this is primal. Hard and fast, his cock is between my lips, deep in my mouth, in my throat and thrusting before I have time to take a breath. Mascara streaming, I look up straight into his eyes. Forcing myself back for a swift inhale and on the exhale comes one word.

"More"

xxx