The cabin of the Airbus was cool; even in her plush business class seat, Heather could feel the chill through her pink blouse and tight white jeans.

Heather fidgeted, trying to find the most comfortable angle as she read through her notes on her phone, making sure she was fully prepared for the conference; it was important she made a good impression for her bosses.

She knew the material inside out, the products, the numbers. She had worked hard, and this conference would be her pedestal to promotions and regional management; the long hours, the sacrifice of romance and nights out, and the parties would all be worth it.

Heather scanned around her, taking her attention away from her phone. Her eyes dart across to her side, over the balding head of the man in the seat next to her; he was somewhere in his late 60s, she guessed, dressed in a washed-out blue polo top and green cargo pants. She had noticed him when he came on but paid little attention.

He smiled at her, and she realised she was staring; Heather smiled back and went back to her phone.

She felt a knot of anxiousness in her stomach as she scanned over the notes again. She looked at her watch, feeling anxious before attempting to calm herself, with deep breaths; trying to focus on the rest of her notes she found her eyes diverted up again, not really looking for anything in particular.

The flight attendant walked past her, her uniform crisp, her smile warm and genuine; she looked a couple of years younger than herself, around twenty-four, Heather guessed, brownish-blonde like Heather, slightly shorter and more curvy than herself.

"Another drink?" she asked softly and with a gentle smile.

"No, I'm good, thank you." Heather replied before realising she had been asking the old man to her right. 

The man said yes; Heather noticed how rough his voice was.

As the stewardess slowly and deliberately poured his drink, Heather was staring at the man, not really aware that she was.

The man was appreciating the stewardess's assets, his eyes lingering and obvious. The stewardess seemed all too keen to let him. Heather noticed her cheeks blushing slightly as she took her time pouring.

The man's gaze was firmly on the exposed cleavage of the young woman; Heather noticed how the attendant had positioned herself to allow it. She was sure the distance between the top button fastened and the red scarf around her neck had increased. Fair play to the girl for being able to do it unnoticed, Heather thought. Heather shook off the thought and reminded herself this guy was no oil painting and clearly old enough to be, well, a lot older than her and the attendant.

"Welcome to flight 553580. If I can help you with anything else, anything, please let me know. I'm Carla," the attendant offered, her voice sultry, Heather noted; it bothered her the way she spoke to the man, and she had no idea why.

The man finally received his drink, and the attendant walked down the aisle. Heather watched as the burly man turned in his seat, no doubt enjoying what he was watching as the woman swayed her way down the cabin.

The way she clearly wiggled her ass for him was annoying Heather further. Heather rolled her eyes.

The man turned back to his drink. "She is cute that one," he said as he lifted his drink.

Heather couldn't help but let out a small scoff.

"You don't think so?" he said, then downed the drink.

"She is pretty, but she is only trying to do her job," Heather replied, trying to mask her annoyance at the compliment the woman had received.

He glanced at Heather over the rim of his thick glasses, the type of 'are you serious' look.

"Come on, she was far more than pretty, and she was gagging for it," the man said, leaning in closer to Heather, his voice low and gravelly. "You see the way she looked at me? I could bend her over the drinks cart anytime I wanted."

Heather's cheeks flushed; she was taken aback by the man's crassness but also felt something else, a sense of loss. She couldn't deny that the image he painted was... stimulating. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, feeling a growing warmth between her legs.

"She was rather attentive, and she is more than pretty if you like that type of thing," she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper as she fought to get the compliment for the woman out her mouth.

She felt a heat slowly rising in her chest, spreading through her whole body. She shifted in her seat again, trying to ease the sudden ache growing between her legs.

The man leaned in even closer, his breath hot on her ear. "Jealous?"

Heather looked into his eyes, her own widening with shock at the bold question. "No," she lied, her voice barely a whisper. "I just... I don't think... you could do better!"

The man chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Heather's spine. "Than her," he growled, his eyes never leaving hers as he thumbed in the direction of the attendant. 

"Yes, than her," Heather insisted, her heart pounding in her chest, her words surprising even herself.

The man raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He shifted in his seat, his thigh brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt of electricity through her body, her nipples hardening beneath her blouse and bra.

Heather could feel her pussy growing wet, a throbbing ache that was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. She wondered why her sudden desire rose, the unfamiliar arousal of sexual yearning on this level.

She had never felt like this before.

Heather tried to return focus to her phone, her work notes, but she couldn't take her eyes off the man sitting next to her. Her body refused to cooperate. She squirmed in her seat again, more obvious this time, attempting to ease the building pressure.

The man seemed undeterred by her earlier response; his eyes roamed over her body, lingering on her heaving chest. She could feel his gaze; it was almost like a physical touch. It sent another shiver of pleasure down her spine, and her breath caught in her chest.

Heather looked at the man's lips; she wondered how soft they would be against her own. Her clit throbbed as her mind raced with thoughts and the appreciation of his gaze.

She felt the desire grow, a sexual need so strong, it seemed alien yet inexplicably natural. She squirmed, and the sensation only intensified. The man's gaze flicked back to her face, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

"You okay there?" he asked, his voice low and husky. Heather could see the amusement in his eyes, but also a hint of something darker, more primal.

Heather's cheeks flushed, her body on fire with a mix of embarrassment and desire, but her voice came out breathy and uneven. "Just... just a, I'm good. Thank you," Heather managed to get out, her body betraying her, a now visible flush spreading across her cheeks and down her neck, her eyes locked onto his.

"Well, I guess there is at least one hotter woman on this flight than her," he said.

"Who?" Heather managed to gulp out, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide.

"Come on, she is very similar to you, but you are way hotter, like a sexier version," he replied.

Heather gasped, her body arching involuntarily as a wave of pleasure shot through her at the comparison.

"I do wonder if there are any other little hotties on this flight?" he said as he looked over and between their seats.

Heather's breath hitched slightly, suddenly aware of just how much she wanted this man, to be seen as the hottest woman on this plane, to be desired by him.

"Nope, none I can see hotter than you," he said, his voice low and almost dangerous. "So even if I can do better, I guess I should just settle and have her," he said while catching the attendant's attention.

Heather felt a shiver run down her spine at his words and could smell the faint scent of his cologne and the heat from his body. Heather noticed that the attendant was slowly walking back to their seats, a grin on her face, and her hips swaying in a deliberate manner.

Heather reached out. She placed her hand on the man's jaw, her thumb and finger on either side of his stubbled chin. She turned his face away from the approaching woman and towards her.

She felt a sense of wild abandon take over. She wanted him to want her; her whole body ached for him like never before. Her heart pounding in her chest, her breath coming in short, shallow breaths, she leaned in, her eyes closed, her narrowly parted lips softly pressed into his; her hand slid up from his jaw to his cheek.

He began kissing her back; his lips moved slowly against hers, his hand moved to her thigh, her skin tingling at his touch under her jeans.

Her pussy throbbed for him.

"Can I help... oh," the attendant said as she leaned down beside them.

Heather felt the man begin to break their kiss but she pulled him back in, her tongue darting into his mouth. She deepened the kiss, her hand moving from his cheek to the back of his head, her fingers running through his thinning hair.

Heather kissed him in front of the attendant, claiming him, when she looked at the attendant once she eventually broke the kiss, she could see the disappointment on her face; she had hoped to be the one enjoying his attentions.

"I'm sorry, dear, did you need something?" Heather asked the attendant, her voice dripping with a mixture of satisfaction and condescension.

"Umm, no, sorry, can I help?" the attendant said, her cheeks flushed.

Heather moved her hand to the man's groin. She began to rub his hard cock through his shorts. "A blanket, please," Heather said to the attendant, her eyes turning to her and her smile triumphant.

The attendant came over and unfolded the blanket; she was clearly flustered as she handed it to Heather. She tried to catch the man's eye, but he was focused on Heather.

"Thank you, that will be all for now," Heather told her.

The attendant nodded, a hint of disappointment still lingering in her eyes as she retreated down the aisle. Heather turned her attention back to the man, her heart pounding in her chest as she draped the blanket over his lap, concealing them from prying eyes.

With a boldness that surprised even herself, Heather's hand slipped under the blanket, her fingers quickly locating the bulge in his shorts. She gave a gentle squeeze before pulling his cock free, her breath hitching as she took him in her hand; she wanted to see, but her eyes were lost in his.

He let out a low groan as she began to stroke him, slowly at first, her thumb teasing the tip, spreading the pre-cum that had gathered. The blanket concealed her actions, but she could feel the heat of his gaze and could see the way his chest rose and fell with each rapid breath.

The man's hand moved from the armrests to between her thighs, tracing the seam of her jeans, his touch sending electric shocks through her body. She moaned softly, her grip tightening as she stroked him faster, her desire growing with each passing moment. 

Heather ran her spare hand through her long brown hair and pushed it back, the man's gaze kept at full.

Heather felt her pussy throbbing, her clit aching with every movement of her hand along his length. She resisted the urge to climb onto his lap and fuck him right there.

She continued to stroke him, her hand working in a steady rhythm, her grip firm and consistent.

The man let out a soft moan, leaning his head back against the seat, his eyes closed as he succumbed to the pleasure she was giving him. Heather felt a thrill at the power she held, the control she had over his body, his pleasure. She could feel the heat between her own legs, her pussy aching and throbbing with desire, but she pushed the urge to touch herself aside, focusing solely on him.

The drone of the engines, the sound of the passengers way back, and the distant murmur of conversation—all filtered out as Heather lost herself in the act. She could feel the length of him growing even harder in her hand, the tip wet and slick with pre-cum. 

Her movement was relentless under the blanket, her pace quickening as she stroked him, her fingers tight and wrapped around his shaft, throating his rock-hard cock as she pumped her wrist back and forth.

She felt his hips bucking slightly with each stroke, his eyes closed as he lost himself in the pleasure she was giving him. 

Heather's fingers felt him pulse in her tight grip; she knew he was close. She glanced at his face, enjoying the rapture on his features; she wanted him to come. She caught a glimpse of the attendant who was looking over at them.

"Fuck, you are so big and hard," she whispered as she made eye contact with the stewardess.

Heather felt a thrill at her words. "Come for me," she whispered, her voice firm and commanding as she offered another smug smile along the cabin.

The man's breath hitched, his hips bucking harder into her hand, his cock pulsing in her grip as he neared his orgasm. Heather could see small beads of sweat forming on his brow. She stroked him faster, her pace relentless as she brought him closer and closer to the edge.

He groaned, his head coming forward, his eyes squeezed shut. "I'm going to to come," he said.

Heather's own body was on fire, her pussy throbbing with need, but her focus was on him, on giving him pleasure, and with a low, guttural groan, he came, his cock pulsing in her hand as hot streams of cum shot out, coating her hand and fingers. She continued to stroke him through it, milking him for every last drop, her eyes locked onto him as he rode out the orgasm, body shuddering, breath ragged gasps as the last of his ejaculation ebbed out and over the back of her hand, running down her wrist.

Heather felt a sense of triumph, of power, at the feeling of making him cum just as they were joined by the hostess. Slowly she released him, her hand still covered in his cum. She pulled her hand from the blanket. She noticed the attendant watching, the disappointment in her eyes now replaced with a hint of envy as Heather licked the cum from her hand and fingers.

***

Before the flight had ended, Heather had found out the man's name was Dave; she had arranged to go back to his place, the conference not interesting her any longer, as Dave had offered to fuck her all week long if she agreed.

Upon leaving the plane, Heather was behind Dave as Carla bid them farewell.

"Thank you, the service was excellent," Dave told a blushing Carla.

Heather thought she saw the girl pass a piece of paper to Dave, who stuck it in his pocket.

As Heather passed, she offered another smug smile to the woman. "Thank you, amazing flight," she told her.

"Lucky bitch," Carla fired back, under her breath.

Heather took Dave's arm, and they headed through to arrivals.