Max wasn’t at all shy about his body. And why should he be? He was in shape, had a nice tan that wasn’t overdone as so many are in southern California, and he was well-groomed. Short, neat hair around his cock, not a wild and unruly bush. I knew that from our previous encounters but this was a purely visual experience so it made more of an impact.
I watched the muscles in his arm flex as he stroked up and down. I watched how he tightened his grip near the base, then relaxed it a little as his hand reached the head. There, he made a motion like the was twisting off a bottle-cap.
A droplet formed at the tip of his cock. Max used his thumb to spread it around the head, and more down his shaft. Instant lube.
I wanted to jump him right then and there, but this was something new that he wanted, obviously, so I stayed in my seat. I was starting to squirm a little, though, as I got worked up myself from what I was watching.
Max started stroking himself with two hands, one above the other, still doing that little twist move near the top. I loved it when his hands went down his shaft and the head of his cock poked out from his fist at the top.
“You should join me, Olivia.”
In a heartbeat, I thought. I started to move out of my seat but he stopped me.
“No,” he said, “let me watch you. We’ll watch each other.”
Holy shit. I had never masturbated in front of anyone before. I suddenly felt self-conscious, thinking that instead of being hot to watch, I’d probably look stupid.
“Take off your shirt,” Max said, and that commanding sultry tone of his was all the encouragement I needed.
I unbuttoned my shirt and for the first time since this started, I thought of the pilot. What if he came back here? He hadn’t left the cockpit on our flight to Napa, but this was a long flight. If he had to use the restroom, well, surely there wasn’t one up there. He’d have to come back here.
“Don’t worry,” Max said, once again practically reading my mind.
I didn’t take my shirt off, but I did slip my bra off underneath it, much to Max’s amusement. Then I finished unbuttoning my shirt.
“Beautiful.”
I loved when Max said things like that to me. I pushed my shirt open wider, exposing my breasts to him. I looked down and saw that my nipples were already tightened into hard peaks.
“Touch them,” he said.
I cupped them as I watched him stroking himself with a perfect rhythm. I played with my nipples, pinching them, tugging on them, teasing them….
Just as Max was teasing me with that big, beautiful cock. I wanted to drop to my knees and take him into my mouth. Please him. Drive him wild. But he was clearly getting off on this exhibition of mutual masturbation.
“Get naked for me, Olivia.”
My heart went to my throat. This was exhilaration beyond anything I could have imagined.
“I need to see your perfect legs. Your perfect pussy. Show me.”
I showed him, quickly getting out of my pants and settling back into the seat.
“Put your legs up on the armrests,” Max said.
He was now stroking it with just one hand, gripping the head firmly, then sliding down his length, all the way to the base. When his hand reached that point, Max extended his fingers and caressed his balls.
I moved a hand down between my legs to my now-wet folds.
“That’s it. So sexy,” Max said in a low, gravelly voice.
I watched as the muscles in his chest and arms flexed as he stroked himself. He had become even more wet himself—at one point he gripped his cock just below the head and large bead of precum emerged, running over the back of his fingers. He spread it around the head and all over his shaft.
His upper body wasn’t the only part of him flexing. His muscular thighs were tight, the lines of the muscles clearly visible. Same with his calves.
I worked my hand faster, using the tip of my forefinger to make circular motions around my engorged clit.
Damn. I wanted to straddle him and ride him until we both exploded. But I knew I’d get my chance to do that, hopefully many times. And this mutual exhibitionist/voyeuristic getting off was definitely breaking down a boundary that he clearly knew I had.
“Come with me, Olivia.”
It didn’t take much more encouragement than that. I felt the orgasm building in me, quickly, and I shut my eyes.
“Watch me,” he said. “I want you to watch me come while I watch you come.”
I opened my eyes and locked them with his.
Just in time, too, because the first spurts of come were jetting out of his cock, landing on his belly. Then more, some ending up on his thighs, and also his chest where it pooled for a moment, then ran down his chest in a stream.
My breathing was loud. I couldn’t help it. I was so close.
“Come for me,” he encouraged—demanded—again.
And I did as he said.
SEVEN
“You didn’t think that was odd, did you?”
I looked at him. “No. It was…”
“It was what?”
I smiled. “It was hot as hell, is what it was.”
We had cleaned up, got dressed, and were snuggling in a window seat together.
“You know,” Max said, “we probably flew over your old neck of the woods while we were doing that.”
It was an odd thought: flying over my old hometown, my parents down there somewhere, while I was thousands of feet in the air above them, having a mutual masturbation experience with a hot, rich guy who liked me.
I pinched his nipple through his shirt. “Don’t make me think about that.”
“Sorry,” he said, laughing, and pushing my hand away. My head was on his chest and I loved hearing that deep rumble within him.
An hour later we landed at JFK airport. Max had arranged for a limo to be waiting for us, and soon we were in the heart of New York City. It was close to 2 a.m. local time, but to us it felt like only 11 p.m.
As we drove through the city, I looked out the window, trying to peer up at the huge buildings. LA isn’t exactly a small town, but to me it was nothing like NYC. The streets were still fairly crowded with people. I figured most of them were going from one bar or club to another.
We got to the hotel, crashed, and I slept soundly until around nine the next morning. The only light in the room was soft and bluish, a thin ray streaming in through the window. From what I could see, it was cloudy, but not raining. I lay there for a few minutes just looking at Max. His shirt was off and the white sheet was bunched around his waist. He was on his back with one arm behind his head.
It’s a bit much to call someone perfect, and I’m not naïve enough to think that of anyone. But this situation couldn’t be more perfect. I was with a beautiful man who had a heart of gold. He had protected me when I could have been in danger that night when Chris showed up. He had whisked me off for an amazing weekend getaway in Napa, and now here we were in New York City, which promised to be just as amazing.