I just read this article about the mile high club (must be a Valentine's Day thing) and thought it would be interesting to hear stories from hobbyists and providers about your mile high experiences. So please do share. I would be thrilled to tell you of all my airline sexual encounters if I had any, but alas, I always seem to get stuck next to another guy or a screaming baby. And flight attendants ain't what they used to be.
P.S. The comment from the author's granny at the end of the article is priceless!
-- Modified on 2/13/2008 11:58:22 AM
www.milehighclub.com
Thanks for the mention!
I've had this service running for opver a year and have had many happy clients. I offer a discount to TER members and will work out a cash payment arrangement for those who need it.
Also have a nice frequent flyer program for the ladies who have a special friend or two or three or ...
Twice! First, BBFS in the lavatory traveling with an adventurous lady friend. Lav's were a bit roomier then, 35 yrs ago. We were on our way from LA to Tahiti. Second time mutual HJ's under the blankets on a night flight from Stockholm to JFK with a Norwegian really horny lady in business class while her husband was upfront in first class
I've yet to join the mile high club, but I hope to this summer.
OK, I have joined this club, but it wasn't exactly the most romantic and uplifting experience.
First, the setting: College girlfriend and I are returning from a somewhat tulmultuous trip through Europe in the late 80's. Air France flight from Paris to JFK during the day.
At the time, they served free little bottles of wine (an all you can drink extravaganza). The GF and I have a couple. She gets a little amorous and starts working me underneath our shared blanket. At first, it feels nice, then she keeps going until it's at the, "Stop now or I am not going to be able to hold my piece" point.
She leans over, whispers in my ear, "Follow me to the bathroom," proceeds to drag herself over me, grabs my hand and hauls me off. I am somewhat apprehensive, but my body tells my brain to shut up and get busy.
We arrive at the bathroom door, and she marches right on in. But there are flight attendants milling around, so I have to do the old, "Act casual and whistle outside the door routine" for a minute (seemed like an hour). Eventually, the coast seems relatively clear, so I slide through the barely opened door and lock it behind me.
We are both small people, but it is still cramped in there. Besides, the lighting and the general odor are not exactly conjuring images of satin sheets, lacey curtains, and rose petals. But, what the hell, she has her skirt hiked up and my pants are coming down.
Quite quickly, and with a minimum of noise and banging, I'm done and she ... she seems happy, but no way did she get over the top. Still, she starts wrapping things up, uses the facilities ("Hey, I'm already here anyway.") and unlatches the door.
She, of course, just sashays right on out. I decide that it would be most discreet if I just let the door close, wait a moment, and then head out as well. I guess I figured that any bystanders would have somehow forgotten that someone else had already come out of that toilet not 30 seconds earlier.
Either way, as I am reaching for the door, it opens. I am now face to face with a somewhat sour-looking and momentarily bewildered older lady (think the Church Lady from SNL). Doh! She apologizes, then tries to figure out what SHE is apologizing for. I apologize (knowing exactly why) and slither away red faced.
Maybe I imagined the accusing looks from the flight attendants on my way back to my seat. I don't know for sure.
What I do know for sure, is that within a half an hour, my girlfriend is reaching for the airsickness bag. And using it for the better part of the next hour on on the flight.
I have always held out hope that the retching was a result of a few too many of those cute little wine bottles. I have always feared that it was a reaction to my prodigious love-making inabilities.
Mile High: Not always all it is cracked up to be.
Air travel is just slightly less arousing than having a root canal.
To start with, you have to pack and rush to the airport, find parking and get your boarding pass. Then the real fun begins going through security and pulling your laptop out, seeing all your 3 oz. bottles go flying all over the floor because those damn ziplock bags don't seal worth a shit, taking off your shoes and walking on those filty floors. Then waiting interminably while the flight is delayed, getting herded on like cattle, fighting for space in the overhead bin, and the smell on the aircraft these days - yuck!
So the plane takes off and your stomach is floating around in your chest cavity, infants are screaming, my dramamine is kicking in, the crossword has already been filled out in the magazine and I feel as sexy as a boiled potato.
Plus have you seen the size of those lavatories? You can barely get your hand down there to unzip, and you're expected to do this with two people in there? Plus, how do you sneak two people into the place with all the people waiting in line?
Sorry folks, I'll wait till I'm on terra firma and sneak into the nearest motel room. At least I don't have to worry that I'll somehow knock into the smoke detector and be placed on a "do not fly" list for the rest of my life.
The only thing worse than flying is having to take a Greyhound.
Mine didn't happen on a plane, but I'm still gonna count it! Back in '96, the wife and I did it in a ski gondola (while we weren't a mile high over land, we were over a mile high in altitude, and we were in a ski gondola!) at Breckenridge. Unlike airplane lavs, we had plenty of room and no bathroom odors to contend with. However, we had a lack of privacy as those gondolas aren't completely tinted black. And we had to be quick since the ride up wasn't gonna take that long. Fortunately we were both very horny, it was our first run up, so I kinda still had my "morning wood". We couldn't completely undress, with our ski boots and clothes on. But we got our pants down and she backed down on my dick and it was awesome! We finished up in short order, and had great big smiles on our faces when we stepped out of the gondola to get our skis. No one seemed to notice us; as it was we only cared about not getting prosecuted or kicked out of the place, which thankfully didn't happen. Whether anyone else got their jollies watching us do it was of no concern. Also, my wife and I were trying to get pregnant at the time. We were there for a week, had sex several times and found out she was pregnant a couple of months later. The time of the conception was estimated to have occurred on our trip, so maybe that was when I "knocked up" my wife. We're still married and we're pretty active, but we've not done anything adventurous like that in a long time. We don't tell that story to our family and friends, but we do share the "caught-pissing-on-the-continental-divide-while-snowmobiling-story" that occurred 3 days later. I've told that story here before (years ago), so I'll not repeat it at this time.
-- Modified on 2/14/2008 10:14:33 AM