Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers-9 Best Pantyhose skirt images in | Cabin crew, Flight attendant, Airline uniforms

Gratefully I sink into my seat. It is going to be a very long flight. I usually prefer to sit on the aisle but none of those seats are available and I feel lucky to even get a window. And with any luck the middle seat would stay empty, giving me just that tiny bit of precious space that makes so much of a difference on a long flight. Gradually the plane fills.

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Soft hair brushes my face and I inhale deeply of its fragrance. I have conquered her, made her mine. She makes no move to stop me but ever so slightly spreads her knees. My hand does not hesitate with preliminaries. I am both disgusted at myself, and amused. All of this mental introspection mind you, is taking place while I am masturbating him with my panties. Pictured: Pensioner, 83, killed as he walked in woods as man, 35, is charged with murder and attacking two Gratefully I sink into my seat. I look directly into his grey Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers.

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The ski season was arriving, so I thought maybe I could get in a few good runs on a weekend, besides I have some friends that live Cartoon chel nude Aurora and I knew I could visit them. Men spandex fetish in the plane were dim, creating a very sensuous mood. Irritated, I sat thumbing through a sports magazine I had picked up in a shop in the main concourse. Join Lush. Kim reached back between her legs and began playing with her clit, "rub yourself honey, make yourself cum with Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers cock inside you" I chanted to her. My breath caught slightly when she stopped and indicated she had the window seat next to me. A very satisfied look. My hair still looked good after the long flight, held up in a bun. I felt so silly, here I Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers praying my wife would fall asleep but for what? She smiled, and said she would be happy to. Cum in loud release of feeling and intensity that felt like it would never end.

By Jack Elsom For Mailonline.

  • I boarded the flight with my wife and one year old son, knowing the next 5 hours would be very trying times if my son was not in the mood to co-operate.
  • I request you to read on only if you are liberal to accept our ideologies.
  • I fumbled with the keys to open the door, my right hand on the luggage handle.

Reading over the announcement, the core topics and activities sounded excellent. Sounds good to me! I dress comfortably, but respectably. A black jacket, light blue blouse, and a knee-length charcoal grey concertina pleated skirt over matching white bra and undies. I complement that with sheer black thigh-high stockings and three-inch black ankle-strap shoes. I also take along a pair of soft comfortable slippers stuffed in the top of my handbag to wear on board the aircraft.

When I booked my ticket, I deliberately chose a window seat in the rear of the aircraft. I anticipated a quiet flight and fully intended to quickly grab a pillow and blanket and snooze my way to France.

I am standing in the aisle next to my seat doing the usual balancing act of trying to lift my carry-on bag into the overhead storage compartment without braining myself when a man appears at my side. In fact, he appears to be an extremely distinguished looking gentleman who I estimate to be somewhere in his mid-fifties, around five feet ten with silver grey hair and goatee. Granting me a slight bow of his head and a smile, he graciously relieves me of my baggage and coat and places them in the overhead storage compartment, followed by his own.

He has a rather polished manner about him and there is certainly no mistaking his Armani suit for something off the rack at Burlington Coat Factory. With the baggage chore accomplished, I squeeze by him and sit down in the window seat. He then makes himself comfortable in the aisle seat with the empty seat between us. Introductions complete, I reach into my handbag and take out my slippers.

Lifting each knee in turn, I unbuckle the ankle strap on my high heels and slip them off, replacing them with my old comfortable slippers. I smile and remain friendly. It is that primal male thing - men cannot help looking you over. Well aware of his steady appraisal, I push my discarded heels underneath my seat, smooth my skirt down and turn to gaze out of the window. There is little outside to see besides the flashing blue taxiway lights and the line of planes awaiting takeoff.

I pull down the window shade, then stuff my pillow into the gap between the window and the side of my seat and put my head against it. Thank goodness for a nice large blanket that effectively covers me from neck to ankles.

Aircraft cabins can get very cool on long-distance flights. I pull the blanket up around my shoulders and snuggle down. A few hours sleep and I will be ready to greet Paris in the early morning. I was not sure for how long I dozed, but we were at altitude and well out over the Atlantic. The aircraft is quiet, cabin lights dimmed and I can hear that steady hissing sound of circulating air.

I can also feel a hand on my thigh. I look over to see that while I was asleep my French fellow traveler has exchanged his aisle seat for the seat next to me. Underneath my blanket, the palm of his hand is resting on the front of my skirt, fingertips gently stroking the material. What do I expect to see? Surprisingly there is nothing challenging or reproachful in his demeanor. He appears strangely respectful. Nothing salacious or aggressive, rather there is a silent unspoken questioning in his face.

A seeking … seeking what? This is the moment I am supposed to indignantly jump up, scream blue murder and slap his impudent face. The moment I expose this perverted outrage and demand the Flight Attendants move me to another seat. Instead, I turn my head away. His touch is extremely gentle and rather playful. I can feel his hand and fingers lightly tracing the pleats in my skirt, a tactile examination of the material and the contours of my body underneath. His hand moves slowly and tenderly over the front of my skirt, softly feeling its way up over my hip to my waistband and back down across my stomach.

When his hand reaches my lap, he gently lets it rest there. A pause in his explorations. A gesture, perhaps to give me time to evaluate and signal my approval or objections. My chest feels tight, and I think I must be holding my breath. I am frozen in place. I say nothing and after several minutes, he slowly presses his hand against my lap, his fingers pushing the pleats of my skirt down between my thighs and into my crotch.

I keep my face turned away from him, bite into my pillow and keep my thighs tightly clenched together. The exploring fingers pause and he slowly withdraws his hand from my lap. An opening gambit? Perhaps a point of reappraisal. Our flight continues eastward and it seems Monsieur Henri has chosen to behave himself. I snuggle down under my blanket and doze off. I awake to feel his hand upon my knees, fingers tracing the front hem of my skirt. I do believe he is teasing me now.

His hand moves excruciatingly slowly. There is no haste in his delicate explorations, no bull in a china shop rush for the goodies, however, his hand is inexorably heading upwards. The front hem of my skirt is across his wrist and being pushed farther up my legs with every feel of his hand and fingers. I continue to hold my legs tightly together. The wayward hand pauses at the top of my stockings and explores its way around the lacy thigh band.

After some minutes of his fingertips tracing the lace tops, it slides above my stocking tops and onto that area of bare skin between my stocking and panty leg.

He pauses again on that area of bare skin. A decision point, for him and me? He gently squeezes and taps his fingers against my thigh. A subtle signal. I am not sure what my response should be.

A kaleidoscope of impressions fills my head. His finger taps seek a response and I reply to his tactile inquiries. I open my legs enough to allow his hand full access.

He reaches up and caresses my panties. His palm quickly cups my mound while his fingers extend downwards to feel and tease the cleft in my panties. I take a firm grip on the edge of my blanket, hold it tightly around my neck and bury my face into my pillow trying to stifle my erratic breathing. I smother my gasps and silently sob as he fingers me through my panties. I bite down into my pillow and silently chant a mental mantra.

Do not scissor your legs, twitch a thigh muscle or wriggle your ass. I cannot believe I am actually telling myself this nonsense. Oh sure. I am going to sit here quietly aloof and unresponsive while he fondles me through my panties. Nevertheless, I decide that I am going to try because I recognize that Henri is no fool. His controlled body language is indicative that he is also well aware of our possible public exposure and has no wish to embarrass either of us.

Under my blanket, my own body is already betraying me with a hot dampness trickling between my legs. His hand slides up underneath the leg of my panty pushing my panty gusset aside. I draw in a deep expectant breath. It is an experienced hand that firmly engulfs my naked pussy.

His thumb has little difficulty in locating my tingling clit, partnered by a finger that is simultaneously inserted into my vagina. To my chagrin, my pussy pulses and grips his finger. He fucks me with his hand, tickling and teasing, entering and withdrawing. My clit swells under his circling thumb, while his finger slides in and out of my wet pussy. Monsieur Henri dutifully does just that. Underneath my panties, he steadily finger-fucks my bare wet slit.

Somewhere during the night, I make my excuses and leave my seat heading for the nearest bathroom. Locking myself in, I quickly pull my skirt up, push my panties down to my knees and sit on the toilet. I pee up a storm. God knows how I managed that! I put it down to a bad case of nerves caused by my digitally amorous seatmate. I would have sworn on a stack of Brooklyn bagels that I did not have a single solitary ounce of fluid remaining in my body.

I am a mess and thinking, had I have known … geez, what a ridiculous thing to be thinking. At home, I would simply place a bath towel under myself, but since I am happily winging my way to the Continent, I had not foreseen this particular eventuality.

My inner thighs and ladyparts are sore and chafed.

I watched as he sucked on his fingers, making them wet. Kim's legs opened up further as I fingered and touched her wet pantyhose while still suckling her breasts. Can you cum from me playing with your soft tits? I was still trying to arrange myself though when the flight attendant came back with our drinks. A big one with two seats next to the windows on either side and a bunch of seats in the middle facing the movie screen which was only showing a picture of our progress across the country. As she buttoned her blouse back up she moved her feet back to the floor.

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers. Comments (12)

Putting his head on my shoulder while I leaned back. The whiskey felt good and so did my son's affectionate. We talked about our days and he freshened up my drink. While he was up a lit a cigarette. When he sat down again he now laid his head lower, his chin touching my breast. It made me a little uncomfortable, but it also reminded me of the night I missed with the steward.

I sat up and put out the cigarette, took a sip of my drink then leaned back again. He put his head back on my chest, farther down on my breast. The alcohol was taking effect, and I began to feel good, comfortable with my son's affection. His hand reached across me and rubbed my thigh, then moved up to my stomach. I felt tingly, his hand rose and stroked my ribs. I kissed him on the forehead, he suddenly lifted his head and kissed my on the lips, while his hand rose and cupped my breast.

I kissed him with a closed mouth, he used his lips to open my mouth, racing his tongue into my teeth. I reluctantly opened my mouth and let his tongue touch mine. I put my hand on his as it touched my breast. I suddenly realized how wrong this was. I gulped, then broke away. I gave him a kiss on the cheek.

I have to leave tomorrow afternoon. Do you need anything? I raised an eyebrow and smiled. I lay in bed contemplating what was going wrong. The lights were out. What was happening? Had I done something to provoke him.

I was his mother. How could I let him go that far? I felt guilty. A knock on the door. I knew what he wanted. I knew. I was scared. He was only wearing briefs. He crawled on the bed and put his head back on my chest. I was unable to move, not knowing what to do or say. He began kissing my neck, but I couldn't move to stop him, down toward my breast, I could feel him pull down my silk top, his tongue wrapping around my nipple.

His hand rubbed my thigh. I came to. I understand you are excited, but this is not right. Don't worry about. We all can get over excited sometimes. Good night. I flew out the next day while he was still at school, not coming back till the following day. I continued to think about what was happening with Brian and how I missed his dad. His father was a good man, but couldn't control himself. He drank, ran around and finally ran off with a girl half my age. But for all the trouble, I missed him.

He was a good man, but just no control. Maybe his son was like him. I had a drink at the bar, but the steward was no where to be found. But no luck. What would I say to Brian? I decided that I had to talk to him, let him know it was ok, that I was fine, and we would just chalk it up to excess hormones. I nervously opened the door. But he was not waiting for me. I knocked on his door. I missed you. We sat on the couch. I took a long a drag on my cigarette, and a healthy swig from my drink. I want to let you know that it is ok.

I know how it is to be young, and I am still attractive. Don't worry about it, it will be our little secret. I just think you are really sexy, and since I don't have a girlfriend, well.

I shouldn't have. His hand moved up to my ribs. Don't you? I gently put mine on it. He sighed. I am your mother. I knew I shouldn't, but he looked so pained. I unbuttoned my shirt, looking into his eyes.

I had on a nice lace bra. He looked on wide eyed, as if he were in shock. His finger rubbing over my covered nipple, his hand on my thigh. I began to breath deeply. He wore sweat pants, and I could feel his bulge on my other thigh. He began to rub it on my leg. Without my knowing, he quickly pulled the bra down one breast and put his lips on my bare nipple.

I felt the tingling, his hand now moved between my legs, I pushed them together but too late, he was there. I could feel the moisture. My god, what was I doing? He reached for my hand, and placed it on his bulge. I rubbed it, knowing it was the only way to stop this. I sat up, pulled my bra up, and leaned him back. I brought my covered breast to his mouth, and moved my hand under his pants, rubbing him over his briefs.

I didn't want to touch him directly if I didn't have to. I circled him with my fingers, he closed his eyes. His lips looked for mine, I gave in. I put my tongue into his mouth and began rubbing harder. I unclipped my bra, and moved my breast to his mouth. I could feel him buck, the moisture coming through the briefs. His breathing slowed. A male flight attendant brought our trays. I was a little disappointed it wasn't my sexy flight attendant again, but it was probably just as well, so I didn't have to do consecutive battle with the bone in my steak and the boner under the tray.

A bit later, I did see my sexy attendant up front, but she must have been working in the galley as she never came out during the meal service. After everything was cleared, the long hours of the weekend seemed to hit me with along with a full stomach, so I reclined my seat back and stretched out my legs.

The next thing I knew I was hearing the 'ding ding' from the air crew indicating our descent. She looked down at me with a smile.

It appeared you had a very restful nap. Again, I'm sorry about the mishap early in the flight. It was amazing, but that was all it took to arouse me once again. It was like my cock had a mind of its own and it was going to follow her back up the aisle. I quickly grabbed my sports magazine and opened it over my lap. Looking to my left I found my seat mate staring at me with a raised eyebrow. I don't know if she saw anything before the magazine covered it, but presumably she caught the look from the flight attendant.

My first stop was the lounge to grab a light bite at happy hour. I had just come off the elevator and turned toward the bar when loud laughter directed my attention toward the registration desk. I saw a group of women and men in uniforms.

I stopped abruptly. It was the crew from my flight and there was my sexy flight attendant in the middle of them. I was shocked she could actually be there. But never will I question fate again What were the odds we would meet again? It was surely destiny at work. That familiar face caught my eye and my heart nearly stopped. Clutching a rail on the way into the hotel lounge, I blinked and looked her way again.

At that moment I saw a smile spread across her gorgeous face. Next thing I know she walked over to me. Then she not so subtly looked me up and down. The same desire I had on the plane slowly swelled my boxers again. I take it you're a leg man, huh? What do you mean? So I can only assume you're a leg man. But before I could say a word Or could it be my ass?

I mean you probably stared at it every time I walked down the aisle of the plane. Didn't you? Is there something wrong with my ass? I love knowing there are a lot of men watching me on my flights with very hard cocks.

I also love that I know they'll play with themselves, thinking about me later either alone in a hotel room or maybe even back home while the wife unknowingly sleeps upstairs.

Are you that kind of naughty boy? No one was paying attention to us though. Even the rest of her crew had disappeared.

She looked intently at me, her eyes boring deeply into mine. My fumbling continued, thinking back to how I had indeed tried to look up her skirt just as she said. I felt warmed and woozy standing there. I could see my face and crimson of my skin. Although you still had your supposed attention on your magazine, I noticed your facial expression change just briefly when I uncrossed and crossed my legs for you.

But then she reached out and touched my bare forearm. I nearly jumped two feet off the carpeted lobby floor. She whispered this time herself, "My dominating bitch radar detected a look, one of pure lust, but that was enough for me. I could sense your internal struggle. You look all prim and proper, but deep down inside there is a pervert waiting to be released. But then her fingers traipsed up my arm further and I felt the warm shivers radiate through my entire body. I was cemented to that spot.

But then she did something that completely took me by total surprised. She stepped close and grabbed my crotch through my khakis. I was driving you crazy wasn't I? It was getting me so hot! I swear she paused long enough to wiggling her uniform skirt against my erection. You do want to fuck me, don't you?

I closed my eyes while she rubbed against me. But I was already too aroused, too horny to think straight. I grabbed her hips and pulled her into me harder and rubbed my cock harder against the crack of her very taut ass. She looked back at me and smiled, "I like that, you little fucking bastard. I'm so sorry. I stood there with a deer in the headlights look for the longest moment while her fingers rolled my balls around.

Why don't we just go to my room? That gorgeous ass was framed in her tight gray uniform skirt as she sashayed toward the elevators. I don't know what I must have looked like as I trotted off in her direction, but the pitiful sight of an obedient drooling puppy comes to mind. I stepped into the elevator as she held it open. Not another word was said as we ascended to the sixth floor. The moment she was inside she waved me in. I walked by her seeing the king-sized bed. Something funny struck me thinking I had two queen-sized beds in my room.

The flight attendant closed the door behind me, took off her heels and carried them to the bed. I'm a sexy bitch. Yes I admit that, too. I use my looks to get what I want.

What the fuck. If you have it, use it, right? I, well," I stuttered. What was happening here? What kind of situation did I just walk into? That good conscience was trying to knock back on my brain.

By Jack Elsom For Mailonline. But one flight attendant soared above and beyond to deliver a side-splittingly silly demonstration which infected the cabin with fits of laughter. He humoured the Westjet trip from Alberta, Canada , to Arizona with a slapstick act which saw him struggle to fasten the seat belt and yank the oxygen mask down like a madman before 'accidentally' pinging himself with the elastic.

He humoured the Westjet trip with a slapstick act which saw him struggle to fasten the seat belt left and use overly emphatic gestures right. I can honestly say that in all of my 61 years, I have never ever seen a flight attendant captivate the passengers like this.

The five-minute clip filmed by the amused passenger shows the flight attendant - dressed in a short-sleeved white shirt and a bright turquoise tie - demonstrating how to fasten one's seat belt. He slams the two ends together before finally inserting the parts correctly and gives the crowd a jokey stare. But the highlight of his comedy routine was when he demonstrates how to don the oxygen mask. Mimicking the scenario, he goes red in the face and pretends to scream before pulling the mask across his face and pinging the elastic on to his head in the process.

When he puts it on, he then proceeds to pull a series of silly faces and even perform some dance moves. Remarkably, he then repeats the whole act during when the briefing is read out for a second time in French. After finishing, the cabin erupts in rapturous applause and he takes a bow. Air Force Fun! Share this article Share. Share or comment on this article: Cabin roars with laughter as hilarious flight attendant delivers slapstick safety briefing e-mail 3.

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Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers

Flight attendant thigh skirt touched fingers