Brent has to fly a lot for work. Hour after hour he must sit, waiting patiently for the plane

 Brent has to fly a lot for work. Hour after hour he must sit, waiting patiently for the plane to land. He has nothing to entertain him, save for the stewardess-cunts provided by the airline. Young, attractive, and perfectly trained, most men are quite happy with their service. Using them is a treat, a reason to look forward to flying. The stewardess-cunts have no gag reflex at all, and even if they did, Brent knows that they are not fed prior to the flight anyway. An enema schedule is strictly adhered to. The cleanliness of the plane is paramount, and every caution is taken. Brent finds it unspeakably tedious. He can no longer even tell them apart; they look and act too much alike. It all feels too much like monogamy to Brent: boring, vanilla monogamy with no surprises. Today Brent has decided to reclaim his pleasure, as is his right. He downgraded his ticket from first class, all the way down to coach. Lowly coach, where women are allowed to fly. He found the most attractive set of holes on the plane and made sure to sit next to her. Brent’s plan began simple enough. He started by touching her, sliding his hands under her clothes. Softly whispering what he wanted to do to her. She accepted every moment of it. Free or not, a woman raising a complaint against a man was a sure way to be classified as an uppity bitch. The punishment for carrying that label was always the same: a trip to the reeducation camp, where she will learn to be a good woman. Once they were in the air, Brent began the second phase of his plan. A small bribe to the plane’s cunt handler ensured that his companion’s meal would have a little something extra in it. The sedative knocked her out long enough for Brent to rip her clothes open. It’s not like she needed them anyway, a woman wearing clothes was an unnatural thing. After a few minutes she woke up, too weak to move. She would stay in that state for the remainder of the flight, Brent knew. Fully conscious, but weak as a kitten. Unable to speak, unable to resist. Brent began the festivities by sliding his pants down and showing her his erection. Her eyes widened in silent fear as he took her head and dropped it over his lap, letting gravity do the work. Her mouth was warm and wet, her throat untrained. She immediately began drooling, her tired muscles trying to retch. Brent’s cock twitched with a pleasure that he had not felt on a plane in years. It continued for hours. Brent simply watched as she tried to marshal the energy to raise her head up, to breathe. When she got too far up, a gentle nudge was all he needed to send her back onto his cock. When she passed out he would pull her off and allow her to recover, always promising that next time he will not be so generous. It was a good flight. -- source link

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