Unknown - Noreen first time

"What other-uh-activities you into, Slash?"

"Film work. Some theater."

"Does that tie in with-"

"I direct and choreograph action sequences. You know-fights, chases."

"Sounds cool."

"And I also coordinate any special conditioning or training programs the performers might need. Developing big pectoral muscles and flat tummy for a muscleman role-like if the guy's supposed to play a viking or ice-age warrior."

"Neat!"

"Get women to work on their legs, upper body. Flexibility and movement."

"Anything lined up?"

"I was approached about what was described as a major project. I'll be checking it out-the importance of these gigs is in the eye of the bankroller, and it often outstrips the financial remuneration with regard to yours truly."

"Well, I'm one girl who's gotta find something else to get into."

"With your physique-uh-it wouldn't detract from a performing career. You sing? Had acting lessons?"

"Dance."

"That's pretty solid to begin with. You might want to take some acting courses. Hustle up a few auditions. And then work up a video screen test to send around."

"You think so?"

"Only one way to find out what your potential is. Get out there and go for it!"

"Can we go for another round? Or have we reached our limit-on drinks for this flight?"

"They don't give a shit on these overnight flights. Even though they're supposed to give out only two drinks per passenger."

"Make them doubles."

"Coming right up."

Slash hustled his hardbod down the aisle. Noreen felt the heat rise from her twat through her asshole, clit, and tits to her neck. The fervor gripped the back of her brain.

She was hungry.

For flesh.

Slash's flesh.

Couldn't stand being alone-away from him for even an instant.

Where was he now?

What did you have to do for a couple of drinks around here, anyway?

Noreen craned her neck about and peered toward the back of the plane. She saw Slash talking animatedly to someone who was out of sight, in the galley next to the rear-cabin restrooms.

"I am sorry, sir," the flight bitch was saying. "We are limited to serving two drinks-"

"Okay, Desiree," Slash said, reading from the nameplate pinned to her left knocker. "I do understand. But we spilled our other drinks. It was a slight mishap when the plane jiggled."

Her eyes widened.

Then narrowed.

"Listen, stud. If you want to get that chickie you decided to try to hit on lushed up, and then bone her right there in the seat-it's none of my business. Don't care either way."

"But I never-"

"There's something I gotta tell you up front-no jive. I'd be risking my butt if I gave you one more drop of alcohol."

"What if I stole it? But actually left the money-maybe on the counter."

"I don't see how you could get away with something like that."

The rutheat flew from her like a rain of fucklust in the humid jungle.

"I could use stealth," he grinned.

"Wait just a second, loverboy. I have to go take a tiny piss."

Desiree turned on her heels. Looked back at him over her shoulder. Slash watched the curvature of her ass flash.

Then she disappeared into the restroom.

He noticed that Desiree had left the restroom door ajar. He quickly flopped down a fistful of dollars. Grabbed up a handful of tiny booze bottles from the storage bin beneath the counter.

Stashed them inside the pockets of his jacket. "There's no paper in here," Slash heard Desiree proclaim in a loud whisper from within the airplane's restroom.

"Excuse me?"

He saw the door flag open. Her unshod stockinged leg kicked out and up.

Beckoning, without shame.

Slash peered about into the doorway of the bathroom.

He was hit in the face-with a slap of pantyhose on the fly.

Caught a pair of moist panties on the chin.

He smiled.

Cocked his head about.

Slipped within.

"Where the fuck did he go?" Noreen snarled to herself as she sucked on her cig. "Fucking Slash. Probably picked up some other chippie somewhere else on the plane."

The heat in her quim turned to pain.

"Fucking jilted." She snorted.

"Fucking crazy, I am."

Alone, Noreen's mind continued to turn itself in and out. Milling on the reasons for the demise of her career in gymnastics.

Was it her fault that her body was developing into that of a full-blown woman?

Biology was biology.

Who was Noreen to interfere?

But she knew that other gymnasts had taken steps to alter their biological destinies.

Was Noreen not serious enough?

Should Noreen have taken hormone-blockers to preserve her hitherto girlish figure?

And her competitive edge?

Ah, but some of those other girls-those who had sizzled their insides with steroids and injections of other magical pharmaceutical elixirs-had wound up with no tits at all. Their adolescence denied, hormonal balance disturbed.

They too had ultimately dissolved their hopes, their dreams of greatness in the annals of gymnastics competition.

And were left sexually devastated.

Little-girl bodies.

Little-girl minds.

Forever warped.

Many of them had then gone into coaching-and had thus become debauchers of their own sex.

Hard-as-nails dykes.

Drenching their lives with the juices of their remorseless, ravening depravity.

Devoted to the corruption of others desires. For their mutated bodies.

Yes, those young women had made what they had believed were the requisite sacrifices for the furtherance of their athletic careers.

And now they continued their devotions to bodies of their own kind.

Well, Noreen was different.

And where the fuck was Slash?

"I wanted you to suck my pussy," Desiree said to Slash. "Then I was gonna blow yuh. Or maybe I woulda done that first."

Slash closed the door to the restroom behind him. He snapped open his pants.

"But now," Desiree said with her tongue hanging out over her jawline, "I think nothing less than a full-fledged fuck would do."

"You're right," he said.

His fingers twanged down his fly.

Briefs snapped down.

Cock flipped out and up.

"Yum," Desiree said.

Slicked her lips with a roll of her trim and tapered tongue.

Slash observed how she sat on the commode. Skirt hiked up past her hips.

Blouse opened down to her waist. Tits stuck up from the cups of the brassiere.

Nipples a throb.

Slash took his twanger between thumb and forefinger. Ran his digits down the length of the shank of cockmeat.

Jostled his balls.

Desiree reached out and capped the pecker with her fist.

She pulled his pelvis toward her. Hauling him by the honker.

"Unh."

"Maybe I will suck it first"

She covered the head of his penis with her lips. Jacked the stalk.

Collected the cock into her maw. Began to churn upon it with her jaw.

She slammed her choppers up and down on the choad. Nibbling at its neck.

Snapping her way down the curved thickness. Covering her face with his fuzz.

Her fingers jammed into his scrotum. The balls hopped and then hung low.

As Slash snapped his hips forward, shoving his hardon into her gullet, his sac of rocks bounced against her chin. His thighs came up close, smarming into her thick nips.

The cockrut in her face drove her to torment. She clawed at her own clit.

Crushed her slit between sliding digits. Twisted her own tits.

"Mercy."

Slash unsnared his pecker from her yip.

Drifted his dingdong down between Desiree's dank dugs. Ran his cock between her tits, brushing the nipples with the choadhead.

"Oh. Yes."

Slash dropped to his knees. Stretched his neck and curled out his tongue.