How to have sex on an airplane

Haven’t chosen a title for the new story yet – keeping moving between Priya’s Thai Gangbang, Priya’s Thai Bang Gang, and Honeymoon Gangbang, but it’s one of those “based on a true story” things that’s been a lot of fun to write (edit – it’s now finished, check out the start here). For now here’s something from near the start, still subject to correction and change. If you enjoy it, why not click here and read the start of Priya’s Education, or scroll down and find something else.

We were on the plane when I told Priya about the full moon party, because I wanted this guy to help us set things up when we landed in Bangkok, if my new wife agreed.

“Drugs,” she said, in whisper, “in Thailand? Is it safe?”

“I think so. The guy said they pay off the cops – it’s a big tourist thing. Said we can fly in, stay in a nice cabin in the hills, get a driver to and from the beach. His buddy owns it. It’s all cool, not just travelers and hippies.”

“OK,” she said, “so it’s as safe as that thing in the desert?”

“Burning Man? Yeah, I don’t see why not.”

“And, well,” she lowered her voice even more, “do you think there’ll be a lot of sex?”

“I think it’s more music and dancing. It could be a lot of fun, and if not, we’re still on a beautiful island, and we can go back to the cabin any time we want.”

“I hope so,” she said, “I mean, this is our honeymoon.”

I kissed her.

I loved her.

“Of course,” I said, “just wait until we get off this flight.”

Priya put a hand on my thigh and her lips up against my face.

“I’m naked under this skirt – why wait until then?”

***

Now I should say here that I really don’t consider myself that sexually adventurous, which may seem odd coming from a man who once wrote about fucking his fiancée with two other guys and is now working on a story about a drug-fueled gangbang in Thailand, but that’s not who I am, not really, and I don’t think it’s who my wife is either. We don’t go to swinging parties, don’t even watch porn at home together. We’re vanilla, most of the time, but when we go on vacation something seems to get in Priya, and I like it.

Turned out she had a whole plan for this sex in the air deal, which she scribbled on a piece of paper and handed to me, and it wasn’t just a skirt with no panties. No, she was going to start weeping, sobbing uncontrollably, then get up and go to the bathroom, turning back to look at me on the way and saying “I can’t believe he’s dead.” I was going to stand up, apologize to those nearby, and say she’d just got some bad news. Then I’d go to the bathroom, knock on the door, talk softly, and she’d let me in.

She figured we’d have five minutes, tops, before anyone started getting suspicious.

“Here you are,” she said, handing me a condom, and then she screwed her face and started crying.

***

I knocked on the door, the eyes of everyone in the cabin burning into my back.

“Are you OK, dear?”

Silence.

I knocked again.

The door opened, and she pulled me inside.

We kissed, and then she turned around, hitched her skirt up, and bent over as best she could, while I pulled down my pants, tore open the condom, rolled it down my hard cock and then slipped it into Priya’s wet cunt. She must have been looking forward to this a lot, because as soon as I got in there she started moaning like she was going to cum, and I put one hand on her ass and the other reached around to cover her mouth, stop her from screaming, and then fucked her as hard as a I could, my own teeth clenched to keep from yelling.

Yeah, we made some noise, but mostly it sounded like sobbing, I think, and Priya put a hand down to rub her clit and when I could feel her cunt tighten I closed my eyes and saw her getting fucked by those guys in Vegas again, and how all three of us came on her face. That’s what pushed me over the edge, the flash image of my wife smiling with other men’s jizz all over her, and begging me to add more.

I came just as she did, and we held each other and trembled, then I pulled out, folded the condom in a paper towel and threw it in the bowl. Both of cleaned up with more towels and then flushed them all away, washed our hands and came out with nervous smiles.

An air steward was standing there, a look of concern on his face.

“Are you OK? Can I get you anything?”

“Well,” said Priya, regaining her composure, “this is our honeymoon. Could we have some more champagne?”

OK – after this they land in Thailand, the narrator has some massage adventures, they go to an island, take MDMA, and Priya gets it on with four guys at once. Click around and read more on this site, be sure to check out my books page, and keep your dreams alive.

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