Although I'm half expecting it, the buzzer and red lights scare me half to death as I step through the airport security scanner’s archway. Before I can fully react, a petite female member of staff approaches, taking over from captain buzzcut who had waved me forward. Guess men can't touch women.

She ushers me aside and casts a quizzical eye all the way up me. “Señorita, I need to check over you.” She’s achingly European. Sultry, sing-song accent. Olive complexion. Smoky brown eyes, and a white name tag peeking from wavy black tips of hair tumbling over her company-issue blouse: Marianna.

With adrenaline still spiking from the ferocity of the alarm, I shrug. “I'm used to it."

She eyes me again, flicking a fleeting gaze to my chest then up. I glance down to the swell of my breasts too. Prominent nipples poke against the knotted crop top, and the bars threaded through them are clearly outlined. I shrug again. “Normally take these out. I was in a hurry."

She nods. “Arms out please.” The last word comes out as pleass.

I do as instructed and she pats me down. Not that there’s much to pat. Just the tiny halterneck crop top and yesterday's hipster shorts. Her hands are soft and warm when she brushes my skin where the clothes meet it.

Satisfied, she steps back. From a tray of gadgets, she grabs a wand scanner that resembles a stumpy cricket bat and lifts it. Waves the device this way and that in a smooth and practised sweep, up and down each arm. It emits a little squeak when she traces both peaks of my modest bust. I meet her gaze and offer a weak smile. Then go cold.

Oh God. No no no please don’t let it be…

Marianna sweeps the device down, across my bare tummy beneath the crop top knot, over my shorts at one side, and down the outer edge of my left leg. It squeals faintly at the buckle of my sandal and my heart thumps as she tracks up the inside to my thigh.

And there, right at the apex, the device squawks, loud and clear.

Her brow furrows and I wish I had a portable hole I could throw on the ground and dive into.

Perhaps giving me the benefit of the doubt or sensing my embarrassment, she doesn’t linger. Sweeps down the inside of the other leg, over my ankle and foot where the device peeps again, and traces up across the tan I’d spent the last few weeks perfecting.

“Turn around please.”

My cheeks flush and I sense every one of the judgmental stares from the commuters around me as I do. The elbow digs. The whispered snickers that I’m sure they’ll dine out on for months. Years. Because as I shuffle to turn, I feel it. Nestled. So comfy I hadn’t noticed in my haste to check out.

Damn you, Marco or whatever your name had been. I'd woken up alongside him in my hotel room after way too many shots at the club. To be fair, it had been a toss-up between him and the filthy brunette with the nose piercing and scorpion tattoo on her shoulder. She looked all kinds of dirty fun and was checking me out from the bar over her drink. We played eye tennis, gradually drifting closer to one another but he got to me first. And smelled amazing.

He and I danced to European trance and god knows what else in the surging throng of clubbers, grinding and smooching on the sweaty dance floor before the heat between us boiled over, and we split from my friends.

We ran back through the humid streets, past part-finished construction projects that seemed an ever-present feature of the Spanish skyline, and skittered into the hotel lobby, trying our hardest to play sensible by walking serenely and nodding at the receptionist, before bursting into giggles by the lifts.

My clothes barely made it into the room: I was already stripping as we tore down the corridor, boobs bouncing free of my tiny cami top. Luckily the keycard was a wave-and-hope rather than insert-in-the-slot type. Between the alcohol, his hands sliding up to cup my tits and tug my piercings, and his insistent boner against my practically bare ass beneath the ridiculously sexy excuse for a skirt/belt, it took a few attempts to unlatch the door and burst inside.

We spun in, clawing at our remaining clothes and slammed onto the bed, a frantic tangle of limbs and lips.

He was a fantastic fuck. A real stallion to blow off steam on my last night. Better than the guy two nights before who looked the part with his shades and swagger, but was all jacket and no content.

Marco, however… no, Marcello, that was it, wow. He knew how to kiss. How to use his tongue in all the right places, and some I need to explore more. And his dick, my god his dick. The way it curved up a fraction and hit spots like nobody else probably pissed off any people in neighbouring rooms. I certainly hadn't been quiet as he lapped and bit my skin, and plundered all my holes while I begged like a shameless slut and came, over and over.

Every time I thought we might finish, his creamy spunk drizzling from my ass, my gaping pussy or drying on my chin, we somehow found reserves in the tank. Built ourselves up with fingers, nuzzles, licks and sucks until he was miraculously erect and I implored him to take me again.

After we showered and he fingered me under the spray to a further shattering climax, he didn't even have the decency to leave. Curled up with me beneath the welcome aircon stream. But as the hangover fog cleared and we'd lounged in bed under the already fierce sunlight filtering in, I was glad of it. Round two was equally intense, and he played with my ass, probing his talented tongue and slapping flesh until my rosy rear was arching up into his face.

The shiny new set of three jewelled buttplugs I’d bought from a sex shop off the main esplanade were still resting in the box on the bedside table, two still wrapped in tissue paper. He reached out to select a wrapped one—the midsize of the three—shed the crinkly paper and held it up, the chrome finish of the stubby toy glinting in the Mediterranean sun streaming through the window. Despite the heat, I shivered.

With breathtaking theatrics, he lapped it, sucked it until it dripped, then hauled me to all fours by my blonde locks. Slapping and spreading my cheeks, he devoured my asshole before easing the toy inside. It stretched me just right and I gasped as it took root, nestling against my star while he lined his gorgeous prick up with my shaved slit and ploughed me ragged until I came hard around the invasions. He unloaded inside me shortly after my second, his hands squeezing my tits, uneven breaths in my ear.

It was only when we'd collapsed with him lying on top of me, stroking my hair as his spent cock softened, that I'd picked up my phone and seen the time, along with a bunch of texts from Chantal:

where are you babes?

knocked but no reply that guy you left with must have shagged you out haha x

heading to the airport call me x

“Shit shit.” I wiggled out from under him, grabbed some panties, shorts and a tie-top, stuffed the remaining clothes in the case and swept everything else off the desk in after them. I dressed, hopping unceremoniously as he grinned at me from the bed. By the time I'd swilled mouthwash, collected the toiletries, chucked them in the case and bounced on it to help the zip close, he'd dressed too.

I kissed him, mumbled an apology among the words plane and late that he may or may not have understood, and ushered him from the room ahead of me. After a cab ride, a flurry of texts to tell Chantal I was on my way, and some more running, I just made it to the check-in desk with five minutes to spare. Then security and…

Squaaawk. The device shatters my reverie. Marianna had started at my shoulder blades and waved left and right all down my back, the detector now hovering over my ass. I swear I’m crimson when she pulls it away and circles me to lock her eyes with mine. “Collect your things and come with me please.”

With the buttplug burning a hole in my panties, I sheepishly repack my hand luggage out of the tray that had been spat onto the rollers from the belly of the x-ray machine. I don't make eye contact with anyone as she escorts me to a door labelled Personnel, waves her pass at a featureless box alongside, the latch clicks and we forge into a white corridor.

“Third door on the left.”

I trudge ahead of her, bag swinging against my hip and enter the indicated office space. Desk. Chair on casters. Filing cabinet and shelving overflowing with hi-viz vests and security paraphernalia against the far wall. Lots of windows that appear to be tinted glass. It's functional rather than regularly used.

She shuts the door behind us and flicks the lock. I shudder. Compose myself. Turn to face her. “Look, I'm sorry. I was in a rush to leave the hotel and forgot to take it out. My plane leaves in, what,” I flick my eyes to the wall clock, “less than an hour so I really need to get out of here. Can we please fill out the paperwork and I can be on my way. I'm so sorry to cause you all this trouble.”

Marianna doesn't react. Casts her gaze up and down me, head to toe again. “It does not work that way. I examine you.”

My jaw drops. “Examine?”

“Yes. You fail the wand, you need examine for contraband or weapons.”

“Weap… wait. Seriously?”

She nods.

“You honestly think I have some kind of… bomb up my ass?!” I splutter.

She remains impassive. “Or drugs. It would not be first time.”

I exhale. “God, look. I can assure you I'm not some mule. I'm just going home from my holidays and need to meet up with my friends in duty free so we can leave.” She says nothing. “Look, I can prove it.” I reach behind me and slide a hand beneath the waistband of my shorts. Brush the lace hem of the panties before her flinch towards the gun or pepper spray or truncheon or whatever the hell else hangs from her bat utility belt stops me.

“Please, Señorita. I need to perform examination. Faster you comply, sooner you will rejoin your friends.”

Withdrawing my hand, I return it to my side.

She steps forward, all business. "Turn and lace fingers behind your head, pleass.”

I blow out. “Is that really necessary, I’m not—” her stare cuts me off and I sigh, turning to face the windows. Lifting my hands, I put them where she asks, like I'm some damn naughty kid been caught scrumping apples from the nearby orchard.

Crossing the room to the shelving, she rummages and pulls a bottle of lube and two pairs of blue latex gloves from a box. She drops the stuff on the desk and makes a show of holding up her hands, snapping the gloves on like we’re in some movie.

I gulp when she approaches and paces behind me. Reaches around my waist and undoes the button of my shorts. Then the zipper. They fall to the floor.

“Step out please. Health and safety.”

I comply and she moves them aside. Brushes gently against my upper thighs when she reaches for the elastic of my panties. I squeeze my eyes shut and she draws the underwear down to my ankles too. My skin flushes, as I imagine what she can see of the plug's ice blue jewel glinting between my pert cheeks. I bought them because they complement my irises.

A tap at my ankle, and I step free of my underwear.

“Bend forward. Hands on desk.”

I reopen my eyes and do as she asks, gripping the desk edge. More of the jewelled tip is exposed.

Marianna glides her palms up over my bottom and parts me. I swear she takes an involuntary breath but it might be mine. Neither of us move for a very long moment, breaths syncopating in the small office. Then, anchoring one hand at the top of my crease, she uses its fingers and thumb to keep me open as far as possible. “Relax.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Try.”

I let out a sigh and attempt to untense when she reaches for the jewel and grips it.

I gasp as she wiggles it. The latent tremors of the orgasm barely an hour earlier resurface and a droplet of Marcello’s cum dribbles onto my inner thigh. If she notices, she doesn't react. Continues wiggling the buttplug, applying gentle pressure to reverse it from my grip.

It's not giving up without a fight. I'm clenching and yet trying to relax. The stalk of it emerges as she rotates it and I shudder at the pleasure. Doubly when she pulls and the bulb begins to crest. She tugs more, then pauses at the point where the burning sensation tingles inside me. Reaching for the lube, she expertly upends it with one hand to dollop some in the same palm, which she then massages in with her fingertips.

The lube is cold as she greases the available stalk and circles my ring. I can't help but gasp when she completes a teasing 360, rubbing gently. She lets the toy go and it's drawn back inside me, carrying lube with it. I sigh as it fully nestles, then she grabs it again.

This time, the wiggles are even more pleasurable. I rock my ass against her splaying fingertips as she eases the metal bulb further from me. The heat intensifies just behind my hole and my breathing shallows.

I groan. “God if you don't get on with it, the only thing that'll explode is me.”

She pauses and I realise the joke may have lost something in the translation. “Sorry. A joke. I'm just very turned on. Please carry on.”

Marianna resumes. Perhaps as punishment for the comment, she lets the toy get swallowed by the grip of my ass before easing it towards her and I'm stretched wide once more. Wider as the toy’s girth splits me. It breaches, pops and my puckered ring desperately tries to close the other side of the expelled metal but she prevents it from doing so, slowing its exit. I'm not sure if it's standard procedure in case there's something behind it, or she's teasing me. Either way, it makes me gasp as she eases the plug out, and the fiery prickle is elongated until the toy is in her fingertips.

She places it, point up, between my splayed palms on the desk and I focus on the way the lube has formed clear ridges in a faint swirl as it left me.

The cap clicks and she applies more to her fingers. Then grabs a pen torch from a pot on the desk, switches it on and puts it between her teeth. With two fingers either side of my ring, she wiggles and gently spreads, aiming the beam into the darkness.

Worming fingertips inside, she hooks either edge and teases me open further. The indignation at being inspected as if I'm some criminal is gradually eclipsed by the excitement of her attention to the array of nerve endings around my tightest hole. My breath catches and I let out a low moan as her slippery fingers glide in and out for purchase and she satisfies herself that I'm not harbouring anything illegal.

With a contented, “Mm-hmm,” she eases me shut and glides her fingers free, ending with a fluttering circle that makes me shudder. “Thank you. Sorry it is not… dignified.”

I breathe out. “That's fine. Can I go now?”

“No. I have more searches.”

“What?! You're kidding!”

Turning sharply without thinking, my naked pussy rests at eye level with her stare. It's wet. The pause before she stands is only fractional, but it’s there. Peeling off the gloves and discarding them in the wastebasket, she returns to face me. Observes, head to toe again.

“Take off your top.”

“Oh come on, you can see I have nothing concealed.”

“I need to check.”

I put my hands on my hips and stare her down in the hope that she sees reason, but clearly the thoroughness of her job description comes first. With a huff, I reach up beneath my cascading blonde mane and pull the tie string holding my top up. The fabric falls away, still fastened around my back, and my boobs swing free. I swear she takes another sharp breath and disguises it by clearing her throat.

I curtsy. “There. Satisfied?”

She pauses, glancing from chest up to my eyes and shakes her head. “People smuggle drugs in implants. I need to be certain.”

Slowly reaching for me, she gently lifts the orbs, peeking beneath each in turn, presumably for scars or something that might indicate I was harbouring narcotics. One fingertip brushes a nipple and I gasp. “Oh for God’s sake, if you're going to inspect me, do it properly. Look.”

I cover her hands and clasp them to my breasts. Lift them both with her, mashing her palms against my firm nipples, sighing as the touches wash through me. “There, that's better isn't it?”

Marianna makes a half-hearted effort to pull away but I massage my boobs using her hands. When she tries a little harder to wriggle free, I hold her fingertips against my firm caps. “Pinch them.” Her eyes reach mine and my voice is breathy. “Please.”

The security guard is hesitant but her eyes betray her.

“Please,” I repeat.

Faintly at first, her fingertips flex against my flesh, then her thumbs join in and she grips behind the bar ends, applying a steadily increasing pressure. My jaw drops and she tightens her hold. Pulls. Sparks rocket from my piercings directly to my pussy and I rock my hips, moaning. “Goddd, yes.”

Coming to her senses, she lets go and my breasts fizz. Her intense stare at my various exposed body parts connects each with my fluttering belly as she offers a disarming smile. “One more exam please. Better to lie down.”

She gestures to the desk. I blink. Then, almost on automatic, I step back, perch and ease myself onto the cold wood veneer.

Her hand travels the length of my thigh from the knee. “Feet on desk too.”

Shuffling back a little, I tent my knees and place my feet up, heels almost touching my bum. “Like this?”

“Mmm-hmm. Knees apart.”

I don't do it immediately, waiting until she glances my way to see if I heard. Then I teasingly glide my knees wider until I flop open, on display for her. “How's this?”

She gulps. “Perfect.” Brushes my hip. “Would you prefer the speculum?”

My response is swift and breathy. “Fingers.” I bite my lip. “And you won't need any lube.”

Pulling on the other pair of gloves, she rests one hand on my hairless mons and glides it to skim my bare, wet pussy lips. “So I see.”

The other hand joins it and she tracks a single finger up and down each fold before parting them a fraction. My sticky pussy yields, and I whimper as she slips in a little way and peels apart for purchase. I prop myself on my elbows so I can watch.

Juices ooze from me, mixed with traces of Marcello’s cum. Marianna raises an eyebrow and I shrug. She runs her fingertips through the mess, uses it to lubricate two fingers of each hand and slips them inside me. I draw breath.

Spreading my opening, she shines the torch inside at varying angles. Sighs past the beam and withdraws.

She strokes my entrance, slipping her latex-covered fingers back inside me, probing deeper. Wiggling around for grip, I groan, spunk and wetness drizzling out to coat my asshole. I tip my head back then snap it forward to fix her with a stare as she spreads her fingers. “Fuuuc…”

The torch bobs and she stretches me. Digs inside, firing all manner of pleasure pulses to my already over-stimulated, sex-fuelled brain. Visions of the morning’s fuck clash with the excitement of her invasion until I find myself breathless and involuntarily huffing please under my breath.

Her touches are maddeningly not enough and keep me teetering on the edge throughout the exam. I swear at one point I detect her breath against my clit, but it could be the whisper of a fingertip.

It's only when my lidded gaze notices she's stopped flashing the light inside me and she's staring up from between the valley of my thighs that I regain my senses. I offer what I think is a pleading smile, moaning with anguish when she slithers her fingers clear and I close in her wake. “Oh god no. Finish me. I'm so close.”

Marianna plucks the torch from her mouth and clicks it off. Places it, bulb down, on the desk alongside me and the dormant butt plug. Cocks her head. “Examination over.”

“But… but…”

“You have a flight to catch.”

I suck in air. “I do, but… god, this ache.”

She reaches for the plug. Holds it up. “Sorry, we have nowhere to clean. Public washrooms only. Or,” she flicks those big brown eyes up to mine, “I put it back where I found it? For safekeeping.”

My heart leaps. “Yes! Please!”

Smiling mischievously, she stands, crosses the room, removes the gloves and fetches another one. Snaps it on.

“Sure?”

I groan. “Please put that toy back in my ass. And don't be too quick about it. I'll make the flight.”

She flicks the cap of lube and drizzles a healthy dollop that snakes its way over the silvered surface as she tilts it left and right.

Sinking to her knees between my feet hanging over the desk edge, she offers it to my tight hole and smears the very tip around it. Pulls it away and then uses a fingertip to spread the gel. My senses spike and I sigh, moaning when she inserts the gloved finger.

My delayed orgasm skitters to the surface of my conscience. She forges deeper. Deeper until her whole finger worms into my ass and wiggles. Heat eddies when she withdraws, then fades. It renews when she strokes my dark circle then eases two digits inside.

I draw breath. Groan as she fills me, her palm brushing my bottom. She crooks the pair of fingers. Teases the wall adjoining my pussy, and I crave to grab her face and jam it against my clit, demanding she licks me to completion.

Of course she'll do no such thing. I have to imagine her burying that pretty mouth into my snatch and devouring me as I rasp and snarl like I'm possessed at her insistent fingering and tongue work.

She slithers free and the delicious burning sensation takes a moment to fade. Seconds later, the cool tip of my toy replaces her exit and she applies steady pressure, splitting me wider and wider. Fuck, it's hot.

Desperate to cum, I flash my hand to my clit and circle it with a practised fingertip. I arch into the touch and increase the pressure, shamelessly humping myself less than a foot from Marianna’s face as she grips the jewel and rocks it, working it deeper.

I dip two fingers into my needy hole and they exit dripping with a cum combo, some of which drizzles around the invading toy and the rest I smear up over my clit. My panting increases as the bubble of excitement grows inside me. It builds and builds, gasps ratcheting with each passing second and extra millimetre I'm stretched, until I can barely take any more.

“Oh god yes. Right there. Right there. Put it in me.”

She pushes, widening me fully and I cry out. The climax breaches my resolve, the plug draws inside and I freeze for a few seconds, crushing my clit, basking in the heat, mouth hanging open, splayed pussy quivering for the audience of one, before the bubble bursts and floods my body with its chemical payload.

“Oh God yess. Yess!”

My pussy flutters to the beat of my orgasmic drum and I let it play out, winking around the stalk of the captured toy and pulsing against the metal bulb nestled inside me. I mewl rhythmically all the way to the fade.

With a long breath as the tremors recede, I sigh, release my captured clit and meet her eyes, mouthing, “Thank you.”

She smiles. “You're welcome.”

We don't move for a short while, then it becomes a bit awkward and one leg starts to cramp. I slip it off the table and stretch it as Marianna stands and discards the glove.

Clambering off the desk, I give her a little show, peeling my taut cheeks apart and letting them bounce shut before redressing, pulling my panties snug up over the best purchase I've ever made. She eyes me in between fussing over putting the torch and lube away, as I tug the shorts up and re-tie my top. I'm probably still a mess, glowing from the orgasm, and there's more of a wet patch making itself known in my underwear, but I've got a plane to catch.

Picking up my bag, she unlocks the door and lets me out with a wink then wands me out of the corridor and rejoins her colleagues at the x-ray machines.

I peel off to the departure lounge as they announce final boarding, only glancing back once to see her hurriedly look away from me. My smile lasts all the way down the tunnel to the plane.

We haven't paid the scandalous airline uplift for seats together. I spot Chantal in an aisle seat on row 11 as I shuffle past to mine. She raises an eyebrow and mouths. “What the fuck?”

I lean down and whisper, “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

She grips my wrist. “Try me.”

Pecking her on the cheek, I whisper, “Later,” stand and continue down the aisle. My body's still alight, glowing from Marianna's attention and the now inescapable presence of the toy. God, I would fuck half the people I pass, and I think they can tell.

Reaching my row, I smile at the cute, geeky guy next to me with the Clark Kent glasses, and stow my bag. I settle into my seat and idly flick through the magazine from the pocket ahead of me.

Our thighs brush as we taxi to the runway, accelerate and roar into the sky.

Height does nothing to temper the raging horniness that still drifts through me, and as I return the magazine, the plane banks, levels and the seatbelt sign pings off. I gaze past my seatmate through the window, then make sustained eye contact. Biting my lip coyly, eyes smouldering with need, I touch his knee. He stares at my walking fingertips up towards where his jeans flex.

I pause, lean closer and whisper, “I've been such a bad, bad girl on holiday. Come with me and bring that.” I nod at his crotch and his jaw drops as I stand, wiggle my bum and head to the rear of the plane.

It's going to be an interesting flight home.