As a salesman for a large corporation, I travel constantly. For me, flying is no more exciting than taking a bus-with the exception of one recent, unusual flight.

I was late for the red-eye from Philly to San Francisco, and was dismayed to see a long line of people waiting to go through the metal detector. I stomped my feet and sighed dramatically along with the others until I saw the cause of the logjam: A vision of Far Eastern loveliness in a skirt shorter than Heather Locklear’s on ‘Melrose Place’ had emptied her bag and all her pockets, and still kept setting off the detector. The poor thing was turning a lovely pink from embarrassment and frustration. My heart and rapidly expanding cock went out to the girl.

Finally, she slapped her forehead, as if the answer had just dawned on her. As everyone stared in astonishment, she stuck a hand under her skirt and squatted as if she were about to take a dump right there on the floor. Elegantly plopping two little steel balls on the conveyor belt, she swished through the detector and out of my life.

She’s probably going to L.A., I thought as I forlornly boarded my plane. I couldn’t get the picture of her flushed face and pushpin nipples, erect with excitement, out of my head. Luckily, my tray hid the bulge in my pants when the stewardess served me my drink. As soon as she was gone, I headed for the bathroom to quickly whack off, covering my crotch with an issue of ‘Elle’ which would serve me once I was in the restroom as well.

The slot on the first door read ‘Unoccupied’. I pushed it open and there stood the ‘Ben-wa ball girl’, completely naked, bent over to examine her shaved pussy for ingrown hairs. Before I could stammer out an apology, she yanked me into the tiny room, shut the door and slid the Occupied sign in place.

“Thank God!” she declared. “I’ve been waiting 20 minutes for someone to use this toilet.”

She clamped a hand over my mouth when I tried to speak.

“We have to be very quiet,” she whispered, unzipping my fly with her free hand. She sat on the bowl, pulling my pants down with her. Out sprang my stiff cock, which she immediately devoured whole. Snorting furiously, she slammed her head down on my rod again and again, as if she were trying to bust a hole right through the roof of her mouth. Her hands flew everywhere, massaging my hips and thighs and kneading my swollen ball sac and strained butt cheeks.

So this is the Mile High Club, I thought. Why didn’t I join sooner? I gritted my teeth to keep from groaning with pleasure as the girl sucked relentlessly on my prick.

The plane hit an air pocket, and I fell forward, moaning loudly when my prick hit the back of her throat. As the girl sat choking, tears welling up in her eyes, the steward knocked on the door and asked if I was all right.

“Tell him you’re airsick,” coughed the girl, seeing my panic-stricken expression.