1: We board

._.

Boarding the aircraft, I let Caroline step ahead of me. Without her, I might have instinctively turned left—but with her, it was a turn to the right. The flight attendant greeted us with a polite smile. I murmured quiet thanks as I followed Caroline down the narrow aisle, the hum of conversation and the clatter of bags being lifted into the overhead lockers filling the cabin.

Caroline had always been a quiet, introspective teenager, more at home in the world of books than in the company of her peers. She had one close friend, Lisa, and their bond was so strong they might as well have been sisters.

Slender and effortlessly beautiful, Caroline possessed a delicate charm—her soft features framed by large, expressive blue eyes. I had always felt comfortable around her and enjoyed accompanying her home on trips like this one. Most days at university, her wardrobe was modest and practical: a plain blouse and a reliable pair of jeans. But today, she had opted for something I had not seen before. A yellow, low-cut top paired with denim shorts. She looked stunning and desirable.

This trip gave me the chance to lift the gloom that had settled over my life since losing my wife to cancer two years ago. Most of my business trips finish with a return to an empty house, where silence presses like an unwelcome guest. My daughter had flown the nest, building her life far away, leaving her shadow in our once-busy home.

Lugging both our cabin bags toward row twenty-two, my pace slowed as passengers ahead wrestled their luggage into the overhead bins. The aisle was chaotic—people pausing, shifting, chatting—and I navigated it carefully. I had booked an aisle and a window seat, knowing that sometimes this small trick granted us the luxury of an entire row to ourselves.

As we moved along the narrow aisle, I caught a few curious glances in our direction. I ignored them, focusing on anticipating the journey ahead. Reaching the middle of the aircraft, Caroline spotted our row and halted, turning back to wait for me.

“Paps, these are ours,” she said, her voice carrying genuine warmth. In my mind, she had always been my princess. The memory brought a smile to my face.

“Thank you, Caroline,” I murmured.

All three seats in our row were empty, and I nodded in quiet satisfaction, hoping no one would claim the middle one. I helped Caroline stow our carry-on bags in the overhead compartment before settling into my seat. As the aircraft continued to fill, my thoughts drifted to the joy that awaited us at home—the comfort of familiarity after time away.

She nestled into the window seat, her gaze fixed on the flurry of activity outside. Watching her, I smiled inwardly. She was inquisitive, as any teenager would be, soaking in the novelty of air travel with quiet fascination.

I took the aisle seat and soon noticed that boarding had finished. Once again, our little booking trick had worked—we had the whole row to ourselves. Caroline turned, realisation flickering across her face. Pride shone in her expression as she smiled and said, “Paps, I want you next to me.”

I returned her smile and shifted into the middle seat, closing the small space between us. She rested one hand on my arm, and with the other, she gently clasped my hand—an unspoken reassurance, a connection that said more than words ever could.

We gazed at each other. I felt a surge of love and desire. What man would not? Eighteen, with soft, blonde curls flowing down her back, a face that could melt ice and a body to match.

I ensured we were strapped and noticed her belt was loose across her waist. She knew how to use one—this was not her first flight. I moved to set it right.

As I reached for the strap, she wriggled a bit, and I felt her tummy’s bare skin pressing against my knuckles. I wanted to linger, enjoying the feel of her warm, soft flesh.

“I think you did that on purpose. You know how to use the seatbelt.”

Her innocent little smile was followed by a soft, “Sorry, Paps.” Waves of pleasure enveloped me. She knew exactly how to play to my weaknesses.

The captain announced that we were about to take off and ordered the flight attendants to return to their seats. Caroline grasped my hand tightly when the plane began its takeoff roll along the runway. Our eyes met, and I felt a warm feeling surge through my body. Caroline’s soft voice broke my concentration. “Are you alright, Paps?”

I looked at her with a new set of eyes—her gentle face, soft curls flowing down, her big eyes full of wonder. Then I looked down at her breasts peeking out of the halter top. Caroline giggled. “I know you like them, Paps, and I like you sucking them.”

As the plane accelerated down the runway, she grasped my arm and asked, “Paps, do you think I am pretty?”

“You are beautiful, Caroline.”

._.

2: The Slut Observes

._.

Comfortable in my aisle seat, I watched the other passengers as they filed onboard and struggled with their cabin bags. Paul and I had paid for premium boarding, enjoying an empty aircraft whilst he stowed our stuff in the overhead locker.

People-watching is one of my pleasures. Couples and families, watching the dynamics of relationships act out under my gaze.

I noticed a girl who appeared to be in her late teens, accompanied by a man who looked old enough to be her father. That was what I thought he was, but I became suspicious because her behaviour was not at all daughterly.

She constantly looked back at him with glances that seemed quite flirty. I know girls practise seducing their dads, but she seemed particularly egregious in that way.

She stopped and stood by my seat. Looking up, I saw her yellow low-neck top and then glanced down to find a tiny, tight pair of shorts at my eye level. She turned towards me.  A foot away from my face was a prominent camel toe.

“Paps, these are ours.”

She laid a hand on his arm, stroking him softly as he stood looking for a space in the overhead locker.

“Thank you, Caroline.”

His reply sounded deep and smooth, and it aroused my curiosity. Carefully, I watched his movements and saw no wedding ring on his hand. Separated? Divorced? Or was she with her sugar daddy? All these thoughts flashed through my mind.

Yes, I have to admit that I have a very fertile imagination, especially for matters of sex. Paul lost interest in my body years ago, so my pleasures have to come from my own inventiveness and fantasies. Sometimes, I get so aroused that I have to masturbate immediately, no matter where I am—knowing my knickers are soaked—and constantly worrying that I could be betrayed by my leaking wetness.

Travelling with Paul is especially fraught, as the last thing I want is for him to know how sexually frustrated I am. Trapped in our marriage, I have to behave carefully. I know if I had an affair and he found out, I would be out on the street, penniless and an outcast.

That was my nightmare, and who would want a sixty-year-old, greying woman, especially one with tiny tits? My nipples are huge when I am aroused, but no other man has ever seen them. No other man has ever been inside my cunt. I hate that word, but that describes me to a tee—a useless woman with a worthless cunt.

My black thoughts were displaced by the activity of father and daughter across the aisle. I watched and listened to them. Not every word was audible, but I have become a good lip reader and can follow conversations like theirs quite well.

He was sitting in the opposite aisle seat, and then I heard her little whimper.

“Paps, I want you next to me.”

He obediently shifted into the middle seat, and she grasped his hand. He seemed besotted with her, his gaze fixed on her pretty face.

Then there was the seat belt. The man leaned across, tugging at the belt, trying to tighten it for takeoff. There was a lot of supposedly accidental physical contact again. I was sure all this was part of her flirting, the constant touching between father and daughter.

While the aircraft was waiting at the end of the taxiway, I listened to another quasi-sexual exchange.

“Are you alright, Paps?”

He did not answer but turned his head towards her and appeared to be looking down at her chest, not her face. She giggled, and her words were a shock to me.

“I know you like them, Paps, and I like you sucking them.”

Oh, my God, did I hear that? But their exchange as we accelerated along the runway compounded my intuition.

“Paps, do you think I am pretty?”

Something shot through my body—an intense tingling between my legs, instant arousal. I knew they were lovers as well as a likely parent and child. I would need to release my arousal later. My knickers were going to be soaked. I could do it under the blanket while Paul was sleeping.

._.

3: Paps Thinks

._.

The following ninety minutes were taken up by the crew serving dinner. As we flew east, the skies darkened. Inside the aircraft, the cabin was brightly lit. Caroline sat with headphones clamped over her ears, listening to her favourite bands while she read a trashy novel.

To an observer, we looked ultra-conventional, but the secret that bound us was singular. A week after her eighteenth birthday, she had asked me something quite extraordinary.

“Paps, I want you to be my first lover, to take my virginity. I don’t want to do it with some fumbling boy who knows nothing about a woman. I want someone experienced who can teach me everything about sex.”

I was taken aback, shocked to the core by her request.

“I don’t know if that’s right.”

“Look at me, I’m a woman. I have needs and want you to show me the way.”

Then she grasped my head in both hands and kissed me full on the lips, pushing her tongue inside my mouth. Her kisses were passionate and sensual, so I was sure she had done this with boyfriends before.

When she broke away, standing back, I looked at her in a new light.

“Ye Gods, Caroline. You don’t need any kissing lessons! Yes, I will do it.”

So I took her to bed at that very moment. When I entered her, she gave a short intake of breath as I broke her hymen, and then we set up a comfortable thrusting motion. Beneath me, she moaned in pleasure. I tried to thrust on her clit and got it just right. She came just before me, her fists beating on my back as I started to accelerate my thrusting.

Over the next few weeks, I taught her to masturbate, to suck my cock, and to swallow my juice. I sucked her nipples and her clit. We did everything I could think of that she would need in a developing relationship, and we fucked like rabbits.

My reverie was interrupted by the cabin crew taking the detritus of our meals. I stowed the seat tray, lowered my seat partway, and extracted the airline blanket from its pouch. Caroline followed my example and snuggled against me, pressing her warm body against my side. I lifted my arm over her, and then she settled with her shoulder under my armpit and her head on my shoulder.

Shortly afterwards, the cabin lights were dimmed, and we covered our bodies with the blankets. Caroline’s hand slipped across my hip and found my zip. She pulled it down, then ferreted around my underpants before pulling my stiffening cock out, gently pulling my foreskin up and down beneath the blanket. I was totally relaxed and beginning to drift off to sleep when she whispered in my ear.

“Paps, that old woman across the aisle is staring at us. She seems a bit weird.”

I twisted around to have a look. Caroline was correct because the woman was fixated on us, but there were oddities. Her eyes, half open and staring, looked vacant as if her mind and eyes were in two different places. And the second oddity was her right shoulder. It was making rapid jerks up and down. It took me a moment to work it out. She was masturbating under her blanket, concentrating her mind on some fantasy involving us.

I turned back to Caroline, “She’s aroused and pleasuring herself.”

She shifted forward to peer around me.

“Yeah, I think you’re right, Paps. Do you think me playing with you has had an effect?”

“Dunno, maybe. Let’s see.”

._.

4: The Slut Reacts

._.

Those two, Paps and Caroline, had made me really horny. Once the cabin lights had been dimmed, Paul fell asleep almost immediately. I snuggled under my blankets, pulled my skirt up, and felt my way into my knickers.

Slimy and hot, I rolled towards the aisle and watched the girl and man opposite through half-closed eyes.

I soon realised something was happening under their blankets. The girl’s hand was in there, right above his crotch, and the blanket was moving up and down. I was sure she was grasping his cock in her hand to pleasure him.

That sent my arousal through the roof.

My clit throbbed under my fingers, and I was well on the way to completion when it happened. He lifted one side of his blanket, exposing her hand wrapped around his stiff shaft. I was mortified, but even worse, he beckoned me by crooking his index finger. Somehow, I had been rumbled.

Nervously, clutching my blanket in front of me, I quietly shifted across the aisle into the empty seat. No one saw me, or if anyone did, thought to pay any attention to me.

The man smiled at me.

“Excuse me,” he whispered, “Can you help me with something?”

Then he lifted the edge of my blanket to cover his. Before I could say anything, I felt his hand quickly slip beneath and find my left hand, pulling it across to his lap to encounter the girl’s fisted hand.

She was gripping something firm and warm beneath the shared blankets – his erect penis.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, “I don’t mind sharing.”

My reaction was a mix of surprise and arousal as I found myself unwittingly drawn into a clandestine act of midair intimacy. My heart raced as I contemplated my next move. Three hands on one cock; mine was in the middle of the sandwich.

The girl in the window seat, Caroline, her eyes closed, began to stroke the man’s erect cock with a gentle, rhythmic motion. Her breathing deepened as she worked her hand along the shaft; her movements became more deliberate and sensual. The man’s grip on my hand tightened, his eyes locked on mine, silently urging me to participate in this illicit act. The blanket shifted slightly, revealing the taut muscles in his forearm and the firmness of her grasp, before I reached across to cover the sight from anyone passing by.

I felt the warmth radiating from his body and the soft, wet sounds of our hands moving against his skin. The tension heightened as we continued, the air charged with excitement and furtiveness.

The slight jolts of air turbulence were the only reminder of the world outside the intimate bubble formed around us.

Between my legs, there was a continuous tingle. Earlier, I had aroused myself to a fever pitch, but this was different, something I had not known for many years. I tightened my grasp over Caroline’s hand and started to speed up the stroking motion. Her eyes opened, and she smiled at me. At the same time, he let his hand drop away, and I shifted my grasp so our fingers were interlocked, with his shaft pressed against our palms.

I heard her whisper, “Come for us, Paps.”

His reply was a low grunt, barely audible above the background sound of the engines.

I looked down at the blankets, watching the material pulsating as our hands pushed up at the top of each stroke. It seemed as if I were in a race with Caroline. Whenever I sped up, she forced us to go faster still.

I felt his body start to flex, little jerks of pleasure, and then a series of short grunts preceded the ejection of his fluids over our hands. A warm, sticky, wet feeling trickled down my wrist.

As his cock softened, our hands and fingers played around, stroking him and touching one another.

Caroline took her hand away, then lifted it clear of the blankets and sucked each of her sticky digits clean. I had never done anything like that with Paul. I could not imagine how he would have reacted if I had. But – in for a penny – I followed her, tasting a stranger’s ejaculate. The action felt intimate, and the taste was strange but not unpleasant.

Caroline leaned forward, watching me, a broad smile on her face. When I finished, she indicated she wanted the man and me to swap seats. He stood, and I shuffled across beneath him and realised the armrest was up, as was the other one next to Caroline.

I sat there, innocent as a lamb going to slaughter. She moved first; her hand pulled up my skirt, and I felt her fondle the crotch of my wet knickers before slipping under the waistband and pushing down between my thighs. Her fingertips slid through the wetness and gently parted my folds.

The man took this as his cue to push his hand into the same place, his index and middle fingers sliding inside me as hers slipped out to find my clit.

He curled them slightly, searching for and finding my G-spot, eliciting a muffled moan. Caroline’s strokes became more deliberate as his fingers worked within me, the sensation of being filled and stroked from both sides sending waves of pleasure through my body. I felt the plane lurch slightly, but my intense focus on the dual stimulations of their touch overrode any worries about anything outside the sensations around my sex.

I was on fire. I turned my head towards Caroline. I knew I wanted to kiss her, so I wrapped my hand around her head, pulling her onto my lips.

Caroline gasped as my hand reached behind her head, but her mouth opened, and our tongues met, tips flicking in the void.

She responded to my kiss by increasing the pressure and speed of her hand on my clit. She watched my eyes intently, her own eyes half-closed in concentration as she worked to bring me to the brink of orgasm.

As Caroline continued to manipulate my clit, I felt the tension within me coil tighter and tighter. My breaths came in short, sharp gasps, and my entire body felt electrified. His hand pushed deeper into my tunnel, the pressure adding to the sensitivity of my clit that was under her control.

Finally, with a muffled cry, my body convulsed as I came. It was beautiful, the best of my life. I was no longer in my body but outside, looking down, watching the spasms wracking my physical self.

._.

5: Caroline Needs

._.

My fingers did their work well, and I was in awe as her body jerked around my hand. I stared into her eyes and marvelled when her pupils shot up into her brow, leaving me looking at pure white. I had played around with other girls, but I had never touched an older woman until now.

Something unfathomable made me want her to sit with me, to make Paps swap his place. As soon as she had settled, my mind urged me to run my hand under her skirt and touch her private parts. Fingering her pussy and rubbing her clit turned me on as much as it did her. And feeling Paps’ fingers pushing into her alongside mine was delicious.

When she grabbed my head and pulled me into a kiss, I felt a jolt of desire thrill my clit, accompanied by the feeling of extreme wetness in my crotch.

As her orgasm subsided, I took my hand away from her sex and lifted it to gently touch her lips, then asked the question that was buzzing through my head.

“I’m Caroline. What’s yours?”

She smiled, then slipped her mouth over my fingers, sucking her own juices for a moment before replying.

“Devorah.”

“Beautiful. Will you help me come, please, Devorah?”

Her hand answered, slipping under the blanket, pressing against my shorts over my tummy. I shifted in my seat and opened my legs slightly to give her better access.

I felt her fiddling around, and then her fingers tugged the zipper down and released my waist button. The fabric parted to let her hand slip over my knickers and squeeze me between my thighs.

The same fingers slipped under the hem and explored, then slipped between the folds of my pussy and entered me, just as I had done to her. My body bucked in anticipation as she explored further to find the swollen nub of my clit. As she began to rub it gently, my breath quickened, and my hips moved in sync with her touch. I moaned softly into her mouth, and in response, her hand tightened around my neck, pulling me closer, squeezing our mouths together, urging our tongues into frantic flicking.

She pressed her palm firmly against my mound while her fingers pressed on my clit, rubbing it with increased speed and pressure. I let out a stifled gasp, my nails digging into Devorah’s arm as I tried to keep the noise down. My legs quivered, and I felt the tension building within me as my breathing became more ragged. Paps seemed to sense my impending climax, and he whispered something into her ear, causing her to bite her lip and push herself harder onto me.

Devorah was, by then, fully aware of my need for release. Paps, equally attuned to my desperation, squeezed his hand around hers, encouraging her to stroke me faster. My breathing became rapid and shallow, and I felt the familiar surge of approaching nirvana. Then, my orgasm crashed over me, my body shaking against her as I came.

.-.

6: Paps Needs

.-.

As Caroline’s climax receded, we kissed tenderly, tongues almost still, one lying on the other. Inside, I was elated after satisfying this young woman.

The man, his breath hot against my ear, whispered urgently, “I need to cum again.”

He gripped my wrist tightly and pulled my hand across his hip. My fingers found his cock still hard and demanding.

Caroline, still recovering from her own climax, looked at me with a mix of exhaustion and excitement. I felt a rush of adrenaline, knowing the situation was not over.

I felt the cock pulse in my hand, eager for another release. Caroline watched with hooded eyes as I resumed stroking, my hand moving up and down his shaft with renewed vigour. His breathing deepened, and his grip on my wrist relaxed slightly, allowing me to take control.

The man groaned with desperation as he felt the pressure building in his cock. His hips jerked involuntarily as I picked up the pace, stroking him more aggressively at his command. He leaned back into his seat, eyes squeezed shut as his breath came in harsh pants.

Caroline watched while still breathing deeply from her recent climax, her cheeks flushed with arousal. I saw her hand moving under her blanket, a sign of fingers that were slipping over her still-sensitive clit. Her gaze was fixed on the shifting impression in the blanket of my hand, working her Pap’s cock.

The blanket stuck to my hand as it moved, a testament to the passion that unfolded in the cramped space. I felt the cock twitch in my grip, and with a final, guttural grunt, spurts of warm fluid shot over my hand and the blanket. The man’s entire body went taut before he relaxed and let out a sigh of pure satisfaction. Caroline licked her lips, and I felt the heat between my legs as we remained locked in intimacy.

.-.

7: Morning

.-.

I opened the toilet door, pushed past the queue, and headed to my seat. Just before I reached our row, I stumbled deliberately and grasped the nearest armrest.

Devorah was half turned towards me, her hands clasped low on her abdomen.

“I’m sorry, madam. Please forgive my clumsiness.”

Before I recovered, I left a slip of paper on the armrest and watched as her fingers snaked out to retrieve it. At the same time, I caught a view of her husband, a disapproving frown on his swarthy face. I thought of the time in the night when his timid wife had behaved like a slut, jilling Caroline and jacking me. Cuckoo!

.-.

8: The slut observes

.-.

Paul turned to me. “Wait here with our baggage. I need to do something.”

He vanished into the throng, swept up in the current of travellers hurrying for trains, buses, taxis, or weaving toward the car park to find their vehicles. Left behind, I surrendered to my favourite pastime of people-watching.

The most captivating spot was the exit from customs.

Families were reunited in tight embraces, and taxi drivers held signs for weary clients. Around me, the rhythm of travel played out.

That was when I saw Caroline and her Paps emerging into the concourse. They were met by a middle-aged man and a young woman. Caroline leaned in and kissed his cheek, then wrapped the woman in a huge hug. The two men shook hands before the young woman hugged Paps.

It all unfolded like a scene from a film, familiar yet somehow foreign. I couldn’t make sense of it.

When they disappeared into the crowd, I reached into my handbag and pulled out the hidden slip of paper. Eleven digits. A phone number. I stared at it. Would I ever dare to call?

I was still lost in thought when Paul tapped my arm with a finger, jolting me back to the present.

“Come, wife, follow me.”

.-.

9: Reunion

.-.

We emerged from customs into the arrivals concourse, me tugging my suitcase and one of Caroline’s two, the wheels thudding against the floor. I scanned the crowd and spotted Bill and Lisa off to the side, waving with the kind of exuberance that erased my jet lag. In moments, we were wrapped in one another’s company. Bill grasped my hand in his firm, familiar shake as Lisa leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“Welcome home, Daddy,” she said, beaming.

“It’s lovely to be back,” I replied. “Even lovelier to be greeted like this.”

Caroline slipped her arm through Bill’s with effortless familiarity, and he turned to her, eyes soft. “First year at uni all wrapped up. Was it everything you hoped for?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she said, grinning. “It’s been brilliant.”

“And has Tim proven himself a reliable escort for the return journey?”

Caroline laughed. “Come on, Dad. You know your best mate wouldn’t dream of letting you down.”

We drifted toward the car park, laughing and chatting, voices bubbling with stories and moments waiting to be relived.