"Fuck," I hissed under my breath, the sound swallowed by the roar of the jet.
Sasha was a pro. She knew exactly how to work around the cramped confines of an economy seat. I could feel the rhythmic bob of her head beneath the blanket, her tongue swirling around the head of my cock with a desperate, hungry intensity. Every time she breathed, the scent of her vanilla perfume drifted up from beneath the shroud, mixing with the thrill of the risk.
I looked down. From the outside, it just looked like she was sleeping on my lap, but the way the blanket was twitching told a different story. A passenger across the aisle stirred in his sleep, and I froze, my muscles locking up as Sasha's suction increased. The danger of being caught at thirty thousand feet only made the cock surge harder.
