Fay Flywright - Sky-High Seduction

Gabriel

My name is Gabriel Du Champe. I am twenty-eight years old and a Libra. I am an airline stewardess and work for World International Airways. I've been with the company for almost seven years and since I am usually senior I bid for the New York-London flight and almost always get it. This is important to me because I have a fiancй in New York and a fiancй in London. I usually have a fiancй in New York and a fiancй in London even though they might not always be the same two men. A "fiancй" usually lasts for about two years-if he's good, that is. They're very exciting when new, but after a year or so they've run through their bags of tricks and funny stories and their biographies begin to fade. It's at this point that they begin to insist that I finally quit my job, which is important to me, to marry them and settle down to a life of quiet contemplation, weekly sex and daily diapers, which is important to them. That's when I start looking for another fiancй!

Currently I have the best parley of my career, with Bob in New York and Noel in London. Two beautiful men, both inexhaustable fuckers, both devoted to me. It works this way: My flight is 602, leaving Kennedy at 8 PM EST, arriving Heathrow, London at 8:35 AM, GMT. Since I try to avoid jet-lag, I leave my watch set to New York time, which makes it 3:35 AM at London touchdown. I'm usually in bed with Noel, fucking his brains out, by 5:30 AM, NY time. Then after about six hours sleep I awaken to an evening at home with Noel, or an occasional night out on the town, starting at about 12 noon, according to my New York watch. We're back in bed by 8 PM, NY time and after four or five orgasms and about five hours of deep sleep, I'm ready to leave for Heathrow and the return to NY. My return flight is 609, scheduled for 11:15 AM London time. At take off, my watch tells me it is 6:15 AM in the Big Apple. By 3 PM EST I am in bed with Bob, fucking his brains out. He has to take a break from his photo studio in order to do this, but I insist on being fucked at the end of each run… it's kind of a good luck charm.

Of course there are many exceptions to the routine I've outlined. Quite often, I'll spend time shopping or sightseeing or "adventuring" in London, and quite often Bob is too busy at the studio to meet me for our afternoon fuck. Then too, there is the occasional extra-curricular sex session… but more about that a little later. It boils down to a twenty-four hour (plus) turn around in London and a forty-eight hour (plus) turn-around in New York. I've succeeded in making the whole thing a series of pleasure trips! The beauty of this arrangement is that neither of my two "fiancй's" knows about the other!

I think I might be in love with Bob… I mean, no one has lasted as long as he has… three years! A world record with me. He is my fifth New York "fiancй," so you can gather how long the others lasted. Three years and I still feel as if I'm cuming every time he so much as kisses me! He excites me more than any other man ever has! He makes me laugh and he knows my moods and he even brings me breakfast in bed. He's funny, intelligent, creative (both in bed and out), and he loves me for something other than my body… a demand I've never even considered making.

As for Noel, he's new, only about five months old. A lovely chap with upper class breeding and a wry sense of humor. He's a writer of spy and intrigue novels and is currently in fashion. He's made a fortune from his last two books, both of which are soon to be filmed. Of course, I'm the perfect thing for him-I don't make demands of any kind, particularly demands on his time. He knows to expect me "home" every third day and I serve as a kind of holiday from his writing. Underneath it all, Noel has a lovely romantic soul. He professes to love me and surprisingly I think I am falling in love with him. Actually, I am ideal for him. With me he can have his cake… me, and eat it too… which he does, with gusto! He is beyond doubt the best male eater of pussy I've ever experienced. I hope he lasts.

The reason for all this is that it's nice to have something to come home to and it's even nicer to have some one on both sides of the Atlantic. Unlike most of the other stews of my acquaintance, I'm not forced to live in a plastic hotel room on one side of the pond and a stews-nest shared with two or three other girls on the other side. During my first year as a stewardess I lived exactly that way, sharing a two bedroom apartment with two other stewardesses. I very shortly got tired of the panty hose hanging in the bathroom and the bitchiness of one of the girls, Fran, her name was. It just wasn't home, I mean there wasn't even enough closet space. I was really more comfortable on the other end in a hotel room in London. At least there I had privacy.

Because I'm French, Parisian by birth, privacy is quite important to me. I value it highly. Even though I've been an American citizen for almost four years now, I am still possessed of a sensuous French soul. This inspite of the fact that I speak in the American idiom and sometimes come on like an American. These are habit patterns picked up since I started flying for World International, almost seven years ago. I'm French from head to toe and that includes all that lovely stuff in-between! Two facts: my accent is barely discernable and I make love like a Frenchwoman. You'll soon see what I mean.

I'm beautiful, with very long, shiny, jet black hair and full breasts tipped by two sensitive, pink nipples that when aroused are almost half an inch long. And, all it really takes to arouse me is the delicious, gratifying knowledge that a man, even one single man on the street, is developing an erection while looking at me. Then my juices start flowing! Sweet, pungent juice gushing to such an extent that by the time I arrive home I have to change but of my wet panties! That's because my lovely little pussy is shaven and there is no pubic hair to catch and absorb the moisture.

And while I'm on the subject, I really have to admit that I have a beautiful cunt. I know it may sound immodest but I've heard it from so many men, so often that I've come to believe it myself. Of course, the proof is in the pudding, so to speak; I mean, I get sucked almost as much as I get fucked. Something is attracting the men down there! At first I thought it was my Calendre… that's the perfume I use, very sexy stuff, it seems to react fantastically with cunt juice, which I'm certain is a catalyst for the perfume. The hornier I get, the more spicy and sweet the Calendre!

As I said, I thought it was the perfume, so for a period of almost a year I stopped wearing it, but the compliments continued as did my batting average with cunnilingus. So I'm convinced I have one of the prettiest pussies in the western world… I'm just being honest. You know, when you've got it, flaunt it! Right? And I take good care of my beautiful pussy. I exercise muscle control every day. I've reached the point where I have enough control to project a ping-pong ball across the room! In fact, even when I'm wet and juicy I have the ability to tighten up to where my cuntal muscles can offer considerable resistance to the withdrawal of even a tiny finger! You really have to pull to get it out and then when it finally emerges it does so with an audible pop!

My clitoris is not quite an inch long but I'm working on it. Exercise can work wonders! Bob says it's like a juicy little cock and he loves to watch it come erect. He usually brings about this phenomenon just by blowing on it two or three times.

Well, as you've no doubt guessed by now, my cunt is my pride and joy. My delicious little educated pussy! I'm even proud of its taste! I mean I've never used those flavored douches that have become so popular or attempted to disguise its taste in any way. I want to taste like me and the most I've ever done was to use, on rare occasions, a douche of rose water which applies more of a scent than a taste, although it primarily just enhances the natural scent. As for perfume… hmmm! The idea of perfuming one's cuntal area with expensive magic is to me the height of sensuous cosmetology… how about that?