“It is. I had a wonderful time.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed his cheek, avoiding eye contact as I climbed into the cab. I hate goodbyes.
A large man in a gray suit stuffs himself into the middle seat and a frail elderly woman takes the aisle. I am pressed against the wall, wanting what little personal space I have left, ready to spend eight hours in that space of not here but not quite there.
I stay awake long enough to feel us ascend during take-off. I shut my eyes, desperate for sleep, but all I could see was his face. I had spent the last day of a work trip in my hotel room fucking Hagen, the charming man I met on the Tube.
My husband, Derek will be home from work by the time I land. I wonder if he would notice my scent, if on a cellular level he would pick up on it even if he didn’t physically notice the scent of another man on my skin. I had gotten away with it before, and he didn’t detect anything, or mention it if he did. I felt invisible around him, like I could be anyone and no one at the same time.
Hagen, a tall, sinewy gentleman with hair the color of butter, clear blue eyes and a kind smile gave up his seat for me during rush hour after glancing at my three inch heels.
“Thank you.” I said, sitting, placing my overstuffed bag on my lap.
He nodded his response, a slight smile spreading across his face, our forced proximity causing his knees to brush against mine. He held on to the rail overhead, the crush of people was so dense I could barely see the doors.
We held each other’s gaze for longer than necessary and in that moment I decided I had to know what it would be like to touch him, what pressing my lips to his might feel like.
“Where you headed?” I asked.
“Earl’s Court. What about you?” he replied, swaying with the motion of the train.
“Oh! Me too.” I lied. I was heading back to my hotel room off of the Embankment stop for an early dinner and a long soak in the tub. “What are you up to?”
He said something about work, but I didn’t understand with the noise of the train, and voices around us mixing with his accent. Earl’s Court was the next stop.
“Come get coffee with me instead.” I said, standing, my body so close to his I could kiss him.
“I’d like that.” he grinned.
The fasten seat belt sign turns off. The man next to me is sound asleep, his dome-like head lolling in my direction, his lips parted, the smell of garlic escaping his mouth. I peer outside to find we’re flying through a white cloud.
I learned Hagen’s name once we exited the platform. The London sky was overcast and threatening rain.
“I’m Michelle.” I offered my hand, but he leaned in and kissed my cheek.
We decided on a tiny café a couple of blocks away from the station. Hagen and I were two of three people there. A gentleman working on a crossword puzzle with a half filled mug of coffee next to him sat by a window. We settled into a corner spot, a black coffee for him, and an espresso for me. A pistachio croissant on a delicate lavender plate sat between us.
“So you pick up strange men on the Tube do you?” he asked.
“Only ones that interest me.” I looked up from tearing the corner off of the croissant.
“I’m glad I caught your eye.”
“Me too.” I smiled.
Hagen was from Denmark and had lived in London for five years. He was a photographer, and was single. He wanted to build a boat one day and live on the water somewhere in Greece.
I told him about the fashion magazine I edited in New York, how I was from Connecticut, and that I was not single.
“Your husband? What does he do?” Hagen asked, propped on his elbows, his eyes studying mine.
“Accounting. He’s good with numbers.” I said before taking a sip of my espresso.
“How long have you been married?”
“Almost eleven years.”
“Long time.” he wrapped his large hands around his coffee mug.
“Tell me about it.” I sighed.
“You are unhappy?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s complicated. I love him, but it’s different. He’s so familiar now, that I can’t imagine my life without him and yet, I want to disappear. I feel like I already have, like he doesn’t really see me.”
“Why do you stay?”
“Convenience I guess.” I polished off my espresso.
“And that’s good enough for you?”
“You have a better idea?” I raised an eyebrow.
He kissed me once we were outside. Long and full, his tongue urgently mixing with mine, his hands pressed into my back. I invited him to my hotel
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign.” The flight attendant’s high pitched voice breaks my reverie. “We’re expecting some rough air in a few minutes.”
I take a deep breath and chew on my thumb nail. My mind’s eye returns to Hagen in my hotel room. I can almost feel his fervent kisses here now, making me feel more alive than I have felt in years.
I continue gnawing on my nail, as my lips curl into a smile while tears flood my eyes. I feel like a day where the sun is shining and rain is falling at the same time. I want to jump out of the plane and swim back to England, while simultaneously wishing this had never happened. Or better yet, that I had never gotten married in the first place.
The turbulence shakes us. I try to blink back the tears but they spill out of my eyes anyway. I wipe them away quickly.
Hagen undressed me slowly, delicately, like I was something worth savoring. I stood there and let his hands and eyes consume me instead of racing to get him out of his clothes. I watched him marvel at the curve of my shoulder, the heaviness of my breasts and the expansion of my ribcage with each article of clothing he removed.
“You’re gorgeous.” he whispered once I was bare, the expanse of my olive skin a sharp contrast to his pale skin peeking from his clothed body.
I smiled my appreciation and lowered my eyes reaching for his shirt, planning to remove it. He took my hands, and kissed my knuckles before saying “I want to taste you first.”
He knelt, planting a gentle kiss on my pubic bone. He pressed his tongue against my crevice and pushed against my clit. I raked my fingers through his hair, my knees threating to collapse.
He dragged his tongue back and forth from the base of my pubic bone all along my slit and back again. I wanted more and pushed my hips forward to increase the pressure.
Hagen slid his hands over my ass then dug his fingers into my flesh as he split me open. A guttural moan slipped from my mouth as I pulled his hair, the pleasure almost too much to take. He licked me like he was going after ice cream on a cone. I looked down at him, at the top of his blonde head bobbing between my legs, at my fingers buried in fistfuls of hair.
I leaned against the wall, but kept my hips in place, my body staying in contact with his tongue as he followed me on his knees. I wrapped a leg around him, pulling him into me. He dipped his tongue inside of my cunt, opening his eyes to meet mine.
I sucked my fingertips and pressed them to my clit, rubbing it as he grinned. He matched my speed, the warmth of his tongue against my fingers mixed with the wetness of my arousal turned me on even more.
I thought of Derek, of how I hadn’t felt desirable in so long, about going the rest of my life with these little trysts with people I’d meet here and there. Was it enough? Was receiving teaspoons of sweetness from this one and that one enough to sustain me forever?
My orgasm was building up to an eruption at a snail’s pace. The contractions were subtle at first, announcing their arrival like a barely audible knock on a door. I kept at it, steadily rubbing myself while he lapped at me. I couldn’t believe I had gone so long without this kind of pleasure.
“I want you to come.” Hagen said, his lips brushing against me.
“I will.” I replied, feeling drunk with desire.
He stroked me with his tongue, gradually increasing the pressure and speed until I felt my body let go, convulsions shooting through me with such intensity that I didn’t care how loud I was as I cried out, my voice a crescendo of sounds as my body tensed and relaxed over and over until everything inside of me was quiet.
Hagen stood and picked me up, my legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck. He gently laid me down on the bed, and climbed on top of me, lips brushing against my belly, the base of my ribcage before licking and sucking my nipples. They hardened beneath his tongue. My back arched begging for more pressure, the feeling causing the skin on my arms to prickle with goosebumps.
I wanted the newness of him, of being with someone who didn’t know much about me. I liked the freedom of being myself more than anything. I didn’t have to fit into his idea of me, because he doesn’t have any ideas. I was simply Michelle, the American he met on the Tube. I was in front of him showing up not as a friend, an employee or wife, daughter or sister. I was a body that wanted to have a conversation with his.
He raked my sides with his nails. A violent, passionate feeling burst out of me. My feet pushed into the mattress, my hips rising in an attempt to meet his cock. He sat up, his hands gathering mine, pinning them above my head.
He looked at me like he was about to devour me and trying to figure out where to start. In response my eager gaze communicated submission, encouraging him to do what he liked. I wanted to take whatever he wanted to give.
I melted beneath his mouth against my neck. He traced my earlobe with his tongue tip. He kept my hands in place with one hand while he ran the other along the side of my breast, pinching and pulling the nipple.
“Put your cock in my mouth.” I whispered against his lips.
We realigned ourselves so he was on his back, and I was kneeling between his knees, admiring the loveliness of his dick, and the pale hair surrounding it.
I bent down and glided my lips along his hip creases then kissed the protrusions of his hipbones. I skimmed his balls with my tongue, the little hairs feeling scratchy against my nose and lips. I lingered along the underside of his cock. There was an earthiness to his taste and I wanted to appreciate every inch.
I took as much of him as I could into my mouth until I felt his tip touch the back of my throat. I massaged him with my tongue as his hands pushed into my hair. He applied gentle pressure against the back of my head keeping it in place.
I pressed my lips around his base, sucking, trying to take more of him in. I wrapped my index finger and thumb around the part of his base my mouth couldn’t take in and squeezed.
His audible appreciation turned me on even more as I wrapped my hand around his shaft, stroking as I sucked the head of his cock.
As much as I wanted to feel his ejaculate splash against the back of my throat, I also wanted to feel him let go inside of me. I didn’t want to miss the chance of fucking him because I sucked him off.
I didn’t stop right away. I kept sliding my lips along his shaft, feeling its soft skin combined with rigidity as I cupped his balls in my hand. I met his gaze and smiled before saying, “I’m going to fuck you.”
The turbulence shakes us. My body was already vibrating from reliving the experience with Hagen, the cotton of my underwear starting to dampen with my arousal. The air rattling the plane amplified the sensation. I crossed my legs and squeezed, hoping for some relief. I tried to keep my breathing steady as my desire to see him again combined with knowing I was going to have to look my husband in the eye was too much.
His boyish smile widened and he sat up, taking my arms and pulling me to him. I straddled his waist and pressed my cunt against his slippery cock. I rubbed myself against him while enveloping his face, kissing his mouth, pushing my tongue against his.
I shift in my seat, cross my legs the other way and decide I need to come. I have to release the tension building in my muscles, let go of the plethora of emotions that are screaming for attention.
I glance at my seat mate to find he’s awake. The woman next to him is gripping the armrest as if her life depends on it despite the commotion dissolving into smooth air again.
I unbuckle my seat belt. “Excuse me.” I say to both of them, and they unbuckle theirs, stand, and let me out.
The restrooms are a couple of rows back and one isn’t in use. I step inside, and lock the door, holding the image of straddling Hagen in my mind. I lean against the wall, looking at myself in the mirror as I unbutton my jeans and shove my hand inside, eager to touch myself. I rub my clit over the fabric of my underwear.
I took Hagen’s cock and eased the tip inside of me. He pushed my hips down trying to get me to take more of him in, but I wanted to take my time with consuming him.
I giggled, placing my hands on his shoulders for leverage against his insistence. I bounced on the head of his cock, relishing it sliding in and out of my opening.
I lick my fingers and push under the waistband of my underwear, and press into my skin, sliding along my clit. I push two of them inside, the tension already dissipating.
I allowed the length of his cock to sink into me, my greedy cunt taking all of him. I watched his eyes close, as I moved deliberately, exploring his length with my cunt, the muscles of my body squeezing his shaft.
Everything dissolved in that moment. My marriage, the fact that I was leaving the next morning to go home, all responsibilities, routines and expectations. It all evaporated.
The scent of sex on my skin is amplified with my current state of arousal. My body heating up, a light sheen of sweat forming on my face and chest. I work myself harder, lips parting, and puffs of air escaping them as I feel myself getting close to coming.
Hagen grabbed my ass, dug his nails into my skin and dragged them up my back. I grazed his neck with my teeth. I could bottle him up and take him everywhere. I wanted to sear him into my mind. I wanted to remember his taste, the feeling of his skin against mine, the feeling of his hands, his touch.
I wrapped my arms around him, pressing my torso against his, trying to get as close to him as humanly possible. I moved my hips back and forth, my clit rubbing his pubic bone while he kissed my neck, and shoulder.
I feel my unraveling, snaking its way through my hips and thighs. I finger fuck myself harder, faster, hips thrusting forward as I make eye contact with myself again, imagining Hagen’s reflection is looking back at me.
I gripped the back of his neck as he grasped my hips moving me faster against him.
My urgency to let go immediately flooded me. I drop into the feeling of an orgasm bursting through me. My lips are dry, my breath ragged, as I keep going, biting my cheek to keep myself from crying out.
My cunt soaked his cock, our bodies making slapping and slurping sounds as we fucked. I pulled back, wanting to look him in the eye as I came, wanting him to see how much pleasure he was giving me, how appreciative of it I was.
That orgasm wrecked me. I came over and over, multiple waves of contractions pushed through my body. My thighs twitched and my torso shook against his body. I cried out, my eyes meeting his until involuntarily closing as my focus shifted to the force of my contractions.
As my body rocked against his, and I grasped at the remnants of my orgasm, Hagen had his own, filling me up with his cum, his hands clenching my waist.
I come hard and fast in short, sharp bursts that push against the confines of my hips. Heat floods my thighs and I am momentarily outside of myself, lost in the feeling of contentment.
When I open my eyes I see my reflection staring back at me and I remember that I’m on an airplane. That the thing that happened was real, that I am going home with this memory tucked away inside my mind, with my body remembering it all.