My eyes are glued to your phone’s GPS, helping you navigate to our destination for our spontaneous date day. We share an appreciation for history and culture, and our passion for exploring keeps our relationship quirky and exciting. The explosive sex is admittedly another major contributor, but we will get to that later. We drive along a tall barbed-wire fence line until finally I direct you to pull into the small regional airport parking lot.
We are on the outskirts of a major city, and this local airfield now only serves small private aircraft. In its prime, it was booming with activity but has aged and today is merely a relic of the area’s past in aviation. While the runways and hangars are still functional, today is storming and windy, so poor flight conditions have grounded most flights. The property is nearly deserted, but the old brick terminal remains open to visitors as it hosts a self-touring museum of memorabilia.
“This is sick,” you say as we skip every other step into the terminal to escape the elements. The dated architecture and antique fixtures are right up our alley. I smile to myself… you think today is actually going to be educational. Per usual, I have a few tricks up my sleeve.
The terminal inside is very standard of the early 1900s. A side stairwell takes you up to the second floor, which is simply a large balcony wrapping around the interior of the space, the walls are lined with framed photographs, maps, diagrams, and other documents. We communicate in hushed whispers as we peruse the informational plaques accompanying each glass display case. We are entirely alone, save the one lone security officer who occasionally peaks out from the surveillance office on the first floor. I’m disappointed at the lack of audience as I love to tease you in public, but cannot complain; the risk of being caught by security is equally enticing.
I push the stairwell door open with a creak and motion for you to follow me upstairs to the second-floor exhibits.
As soon as the door shuts behind us, I’m all over you. You’re well accustomed to my sudden antics, and your tongue expertly eases my lips open, your fingers grab at my ass through my leggings, pulling my pelvis into yours. You lower your lips to my neck and I moan softly. You abruptly push me off you as punishment for the onslaught.
“No more,” you say, rolling your eyes and continuing up the stairs. I know this game; you want me to try again. I will. Your teasing serves as further motivation.
We work our way around the mezzanine, examining the displays. I lean forward with extra enthusiasm, sticking my ass out for you to admire, gingerly tucking my soft dark curls behind my ears when they fall into my face, cautious to not disturb the sexy hoop earrings you love.
I lean over the railing to check on the status of our security officer friend. He is on the phone in the office below. I use this as an opportunity to strike again, rubbing your cock through your jeans. I can feel you harden at my touch and I’m instantly wet. We maintain eye contact for several seconds before you close your eyes to savor the feeling. I apply a gentle but firm pressure along your shaft, cupping your balls and giving them attention through the thick fabric. The sound of the phone receiver being hung up in the lobby area below snaps you back to reality.
“Baby, no—”
“We’ll be quiet!”
“We can’t. Not here. At home. I promise.” You pry my hand off you.
“No, now,” I insist and gesture towards a door with a scratched, barely legible “Ladies Restroom” sign. I know your logical side is conflicted. This is a near empty building and the likelihood of another woman entering is slim to none. I pull you into the restroom before you have a chance to reason your way out of it. We are loud and animalistic, and I can’t fuck you here. But I will suck you dry.