Late Arrival: An Airport Encounter

(A note to anyone stopping by via e[Lust] -- welcome! I hope you like what you see here. Drop in anytime.  -- PB)

Most airports are chaotic, disorganized masses of humanity even at the best times. During holiday seasons, however, they become something to stagger the imagination. It's normally my policy to spend lots of time people-watching when I'm stuck at an airport for one reason or another, but I was far too distracted for that this time. Part of it was the unfamiliarity aspect, as I pushed my way through crowds of folk on the slideway taking me closer and closer to my destination; strange airports are interesting places, but not good if your nerves are already strung to the breaking point.

As they were now. God knew, I'd spent enough time emailing her, flirting with her, leaving risque comments on her journal and chatting with her into the wee hours. I figured we knew each other pretty well after the details and photos we'd shared, and the filthy things we'd told each other we'd commit upon the other's person. But to fly halfway across the country just for a meeting like this....was I out of my fucking mind?

Then my eyes lit on her, waiting at the point where we deplaning passengers get disgorged into the flow of outside humanity, and my doubts dissolved, swept away in a tide of lust. Obedient to my brazen demands, she'd dressed in thigh-high boots, a black miniskirt, and a green sweater-top. Impish delight danced in her eyes, glinting from behind her glasses....and oh, yes....she'd worn the collar. Its black leather was a stark contrast to the chrome rings spaced here and there around it. Perfect for snapping something onto.

Perfect, yes. I reached into my travel bag as I drew closer to her and pulled out a silver chain leash. Our gaze locked for a second -- I swear sparks flew -- and then her eyes slid away, to the chain I was holding up. She stiffened and then relaxed again, so quickly I could only wonder if I'd really seen that glimpse of fear. And then she shivered all over and slowly, deliberately, closed her eyes.

I waited, but they remained closed. I stepped closer, close enough to take in her scent -- a heady mix, the leather of the collar, a hint of jasmine, and a stranger scent that I identified, much later, as old, dusty paper -- and placed a hand on her shoulder experimentally. She shivered again but held still. Her lips parted and I heard a faint whisper: "Yes."

That one simple word broke a dam somewhere inside me. The dark raging current that poured through swept all rational thought away. It didn't matter anymore that this was my first time meeting her. It didn't matter that we were starting to draw strange looks from passersby. It didn't even matter that we were in the midst of a crowded airport with no privacy to be found anywhere. All that mattered was that she wanted this as much as I did, and that she belonged to me utterly.

No time like the present to claim the prize. I grasped her by the throat, lifting her chin, and snapped the leash onto one of the trailing rings from her collar. Her eyes flew open at the nearly-inaudible "clink"; there was something dark and wild dancing in their depths. I released her throat and she sighed softly and nodded....no, bowed. She was bowing her head in an attitude of deference.

Oh, I like this. That dark tide was still sweeping me along. My pulse throbbed. My vision was dimming. My entire body was tingling. My cock was painfully hard in my jeans -- when had that happened? It was all going so fast, so fast. My head whirled. All I knew was one thing...that I had to have her.

Now.

Her head was still bowed, but it jerked up quickly, wild and proud, when I pulled on the leash and began leading her along. She came with me eagerly, pressing close, barely even requiring a tug here and there to indicate my will. I kept sneaking glances at her exquisite body, moving and flexing alongside me; curve of hip, sideswell of breast, globe of rounded ass. I could feel the heat from her, could still smell that scent, could sense the electricity crackling between us. This was all woman.

And all mine. I saw a possible haven ahead: a pilot disappearing into the pilots' lounge. I could think of nowhere else that would offer us even a modicum of privacy. Time to brazen it out. With her still walking obediently alongside, I pushed my way into the lounge. Three pilots looked up, eyebrows raising into the stratosphere as they saw her, collared and chained, at my side -- but then their normal arrogance began to assert itself. "Who are you?" one of them demanded. "This lounge is reserved for pilots only. You'd better...." His voice died away, however, at something in my gaze, and I could see he was uncharacteristically flustered.

Still carried along by that dark river, I jerked my head towards the door. "Out. All of you." Two of them bolted almost at once, hearing something that brooked no argument in my voice. The first hesitated, then left as well, but fired a parting shot as he did so: "I'm calling Security."

Once they were gone, I slammed the door and locked it, dismissing them from my head, sweeping the first stirrings of panic away into a closet and slamming the door. Time enough later to deal with that. She was more important. She was all that mattered. Filling my head, racing through my bloodstream, filling my cock to bursting -- she might be utterly mine, but in a way I was utterly hers as well. Time to do something about that.

"We've little time," I said rapidly. "This would have been better suited for privacy, for a hotel room, but it's too late. It was already too late when I first saw you. So: no dissembling, no equivocations. Are you Mine?"

She nodded once. No hesitation. That dark gaze again, burning, searing.

"Do you want it? Now?" I shook the leash, gently, for emphasis.

Again the nod. "Yes. More than anything."

And the last vestiges of control were swept away. I slammed her against the wall, crushing her mouth with my own. Her hips thudded against my crotch, her hands clutched at my ass, pulling me against her. Her tongue was hot, seeking, twining insistently against mine. I pulled back a bit and felt her hands working at my belt buckle and the snap on my jeans; great minds think alike, I thought, as I yanked her miniskirt up. Oh, bliss; she'd anticipated my wants enough to go commando today, and her bare pussy was only inches away. My fingers explored, pushed deep, no time for niceties; her wetness gushed over my hand. She was dripping.

I wanted her mouth on my shaft, wanted to feel her hands encircling the base and playing with my sack as she took me deep, wanted to feel my balls tighten as I spurted into her eagerly sucking mouth. But both of us were too far gone, maybe had been from that first electric contact, hand on shoulder. My jeans slid down my legs, her fingers grasping my hardness firmly, squeezing, stroking. She hiked up one leg and hooked it around my ass and her other arm went round my neck. "Now," she whispered, those burning eyes still locked with my own.

I drove in hard and deep, groaning with the sheer pleasure of it. Her head came down on my shoulder and she bit deep to stifle a scream. Then she was bucking against me, hips thudding forward to meet my thrusts, arms clenching, fingernails digging into my back, gaze once again locked with mine. Primal delight, primal urges, pure unbridled sexuality; she was dripping with it like her cunt was dripping with her girl gloss. Burned by the flame, but loving it, I thrust harder and harder into her, lifting her further off the ground each time, legs and calves straining with effort, one hand on her thigh helping spread and lift her, the other one sliding up further, still gripping the chain locked to her collar, pressing against it and pinning her in place. A grin rippled across her face and was gone, replaced with that same intense look of -- what? concentration? Lust?

Perhaps "capture" was the word, I thought dimly as I kept slamming into her, her body flexing against mine, rising to meet me. Every time I met her eyes, they captured me. But it wasn't an ownership thing; or at least not in the sense of her owning me; instead they seemed to be saying "Yes. Take me, I'm Yours. I belong to You." If there was any other message hidden there, it was hidden well; all I could see was desire thrumming along every nerve, something pure and clean, a strange contrast to the dirty things we were doing to each other.

Minutes. Short, delicious minutes, but only a few. I felt her pussy clenching around me; a sharp "uh!" was her only sound, but the look in her eyes and the heat of her pussy left me no doubt she'd just cum hard. My balls drew tight; my cock swelled; my breath caught; my hips slammed forward almost of their own volition. Without warning, the fire burst through me everywhere, sweeping over me and pouring out of my cock as I erupted into her, thickly, forcefully, and seemingly endlessly, spurting and spurting as if I was trying to hose down the burning heat at her core with my own burning seed.

But flame only begets more flame. I pulled back and out of her after long seconds, those dark eyes still locked with my own. With trembling hands I pulled my jeans up, and with shaking hands she pulled her miniskirt down. Still we stood there, still staring, neither of us sure what to say.

I was first to break the silence. "Mine," I whispered. And "yes" she whispered back.

"We'd better get out of here," I managed, voice still hoarse with pent-up desire. "Come on." I pulled on the leash and she followed close by my side; we left the lounge at a dead run, as if the hounds of hell were at our heels, and maybe they were. Still, one thing was definite: this visit wasn't anywhere near finished. Oh, no.

There were things we still needed to do. Urgently.

-- PB