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Archive-name: Dreams/tastcum1.txt

Archive-author: Holly Lynn Johnson

Archive-title: A Taste of What's to Cum - Part I

The Plane Trip

Hey folks,


Just so you know, this is my first attempt at writing erotic fiction.

I hope you like it, because I certainly enjoyed writing it. I am 

interested in responses, especially of the kind with critical input, 

but please know that I did not post this because I am receptive to 

offers. If you want to reply, reply responsibly.

Thanks, and enjoy!


== A Taste of What's to Cum ==



It had been months since I had seen him. Three months to be exact, 

three months of loneliness and frustration of the emotional and 

sexual kind. The intensely sexual kind. Three months of becoming 

literally a mistress of the art of masturbation and self-pleasuring. 

Three months of experience which I couldn't wait to share with Brian. 


These were the thoughts that filtered through the sleepiness of my 

jet-lagged brain as I stared out the tiny fiberglass window of the 

plane. Not that there was anything to see but the fluffy whiteness 

of clouds, so there was no view to distract me from my contemplation. 

And considering the reunion soon to be at hand, I could think of 

little else but finally ending three months worth of gruelling 



I checked my watch again. Still an hour and a half remaining in the 

flight. With a sigh I lowered the window shade and nestled my head 

against the pillow I had stuffed between the seat and the wall of 

the airplane. My gritty eyelids inexorably lowered, and I dozed...


He stroked my face and gazed into my eyes as I squirmed underneath 

him. I gazed back earnestly, all of the need and desire mirrored 

blatantly there for him to see. But still he teased me. Lifting his 

hips, he probed my pussy with just his cock head, and in my 

sensitized condition, could almost feel the slit slide like a custom-

made groove over my clit. I arched against him further, seeking to 

suck him inside of me, needing the penetration so badly I thought I 

would die.


Although I knew he wanted it almost as badly as I did, he still 

withheld. "Just a second," he said, "Need to make sure you're wet 

enough." Then his mouth was on mine, his tongue plunging into my 

mouth aggressively. My eyes were closed, my head swam, but still I 

could feel his hand snake down between our two sweating bodies, inch 

into my damp muff, and slide a finger slowly over my clit and down 

between the cleft of my slick pussy lips. He pushed his finger 

inside of me, up to his bottom knuckle, and wiggled it around, 

testing the waters, as his knuckles continued to grind into my hot



"Oh God..." I moaned shakily, "Please..." His hand left my soaking 

cunt, and slithered up between our torsos, leaving a slimy trail up 

my abdomen. He stopped to cup one heavy breast, and roughly pinched 

my nipple. I gasped.


"Please...?" he said.


"Please..." I cleverly repeated. I could take his teasing no longer. 

My hands raked a trail down his back to his ass, gripping it 

fiercely. For once, he obliged me by repositioning the head of his 

cock to the entrance of my pussy, nestling the hot tip between my 

hotter lips. I tried to pull his hips into mine, aching to feel the 

familiar spreading of his fat prick as it forged into my hole. But 

although I, to my credit, am a strong woman, he was still a stronger 

man. His buttock cheeks clenched tightly in my straining hands, and 

he remained poised just outside my throbbing cunt.


"Please...what?" he urged.


"Please...fuck me now!!" I sobbed, the words tearing from me. I was 

never a very vocal person when it came to sex, and he was never very 

insistent on hearing me voice my carnal needs. But this time it 

seemed he needed to hear me verify how much I needed him as much as 

I DID need him: desperately.


Without reply, he crushed his lips down on mine once again, and the 

tension of his ass under my hands abruptly released as he sank down 

into me. He literally sank. His cock was so thick, even with my 

relatively spacious pussy, the first time he entered me was always a 

stretch, his penis literally pushing the walls of my cunt out of the 

way as it broke new ground. And the sensation, prolonged all this 

time, felt so goddamned good I thought I would faint. Oh, if only I 

could have that first thrust, over and over again, every time.


He started slowly, rocking against me, his cock sliding out and in 

rhythmically, alternately filling and emptying my pussy, only to 

stuff it once more with his considerable girth again, and the 

excruciating pleasure of it quickly brought on the familiar tingle 

of my impending orgasm. I always feel my orgasms well in advance, and 

enjoy considerable buildup before the release. But once I felt it 

start, I turned into a wild woman, clutching and groping at Brian 

with unchained fervor, my hips arching up to lock against his, such 

that every forceful thrust ground his pelvis into my aching clit. 

Which only made me crazier, more desperate.


Brian responded to my frenzy by picking up the pace, no longer 

sinking and withdrawing, but slamming and jerking, fucking me with 

increasing speed and force. Both of us were out of control, and 

strained against each other, grasping each other as we both 

approached orgasm. We were two perfectly orchestrated instruments, 

playing each other expertly. My melody: crescendo, crescendo, 

crescendo...FORTE!!! I came with a vengeance, my body stiffening, my 

breath catching in my throat, only barely audible whimpers of 

pleasure a staccato to the rhythm of our bodies. And as I came, my 

cunt spasmed forcefully around his pounding prick, squeezing him, 

encouraging him, and with a few more grunts and thrusts, he responded 

with his harmony: a moan of a deeper timbre, long, drawn out, his cum 

blasting hotly inside of me like a clash of cymbals, loud, then 

softer, softer, fall silent as the symphony wound down to 

its conclusion. Our bodies and breathing playing decrescendo, 

decrescendo, decrescendo...pianissimo.


It was searingly hot in the room, our bodies covered with a sheen of 

perspiration. But after he slowly pulled out of me, he held me close, 

plastering me to him, ignoring the sticky heat of us both. 


We shared a langorous moment of silence, then, "I'm going to miss 



I turned to face him, saw the sincerity in his eyes, and kissed him 

softly. "I'm going to miss you too. I love you so much..."


"I love you too." 


We cuddled for a few moments longer, then began the painful process 

of packing...


A jolt of turbulence woke me up. I blinked my eyes hastily, and 

noticed that I had curled up into the narrow seat, facing the window. 

Furthermore, one arm had stolen surreptitiously into my folded lap, 

and the heel of one palm was pressed into the cleft between my legs. 

I blushed as I remembered about women not being able to experience 

orgasm in a dream unless there is some physical stimulation outside 

the dream. I sniffed tentatively, and sure enough, there was the 

faint but tangible smell of arousal wafting gently around me. Oh God.


I lifted my head from the pillow and craned my neck to peek at the

passenger seated next to me, separated by an empty seat in the triad. 

The man was youngish, and nice-looking...and staring intently at me. 

I tried not to blush furiously. After all, I didn't know how much of 

my activities were visible, or how much of those activities he had 



I quickly averted my eyes, and began to straighten myself out. I 

eased my hand and arm from between my legs, and slowly untwisted my 

cramped body. I straightened my hair and patted down my rumpled 

clothes, and then half-stood and cleared my throat, indicating to 

my seat-mate my need to pass by. He quickly - almost too quickly - 

rose from his seat and moved into the narrow aisle to allow me enough 

room. I scrambled awkwardly by, my eyes bashfully downcast, and as I 

slipped into the aisle I couldn't help but notice the disturbance in 

his loose pants. Specifically, the sizeable bulge in his pants. 


I mumbled a brief thank you and hurried down the aisle to the 

miniature bathrooms in the rear of the plane. I slipped into an 

unoccupied stall, engaged the bolt, and sat down with a whomp on the 

toilet seat. Moments later, I was seized by a fit of uncontrollable 

giggling, and had to clench my aching sides as they heaved with my 

laughter. I don't know whether my seat-mate had noticed me 

masturbating myself to orgasm as I napped. It was conceivable that 

he could simply smell my heat. Brian had often told me that when I 

was horny, it was obvious. I almost hoped that he had witnessed me 

indulging myself, then I would at least know that he got a good 

show for his frustration.


I spent the next few minutes putting myself back in order, urinating 

with much relief, and wiping up some extremely copious juices of 

another sort from my soaking pussy, adjusting my clothes, coming my 

hair, and splashing some cold water over my face. In short order, I 

felt human again, calm and composed, albeit extremely relaxed. I felt 



I almost whistled as I made my way back to my seat, and was even able 

to smile pleasantly at my seat-mate - and at his still-obvious 

erection - as I maneuvered myself back into my seat. I buckled myself 

in and made myself comfortable for the duration of the flight, which, 

by my watch, was now only a half-hour short of ending. 


I finished my flight much as I had started it: by staring out the 

window, my thoughts on my impending reunion with Brian, now only 

minutes away. The man next to me made no attempt at communication, 

which was just as well. As impressive as his bulge had been, I only 

had thoughts of Brian as the plane flared in for its landing. A short 

taxi later, and the population of the plane was concertedly collecting 

its belongings and filing out into the gate of the airport. I smiled 

at my seating partner one last time as I stepped into line in front of 

him, and eagerly debarked the plane.


End of Part I - A Taste of What's to Cum


P.S. Part II to be posted soon - as soon as I write it.

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