Dirty Weekends – Sexy Planes


It is a Thursday night and the sound of your voice gives me a thrill. I am in my bed, the ceiling fan moves the cool tropical air in slow billowing wafts, the scent of mangos and jasmine flows through the open windows along with the sound of the river moving past it’s banks. The spanish moss hanging from the live oak trees that ring this house, cast swaying shadows that echo the rhythm of life in this rich subtropical hammock. Look closely and you’ll see a plethora of living things, wild orchids and bromeliads, a paradise in microcosm.

The sound of your man’s voice changes me, it is the voice of a man who knows what he wants, sure of himself. Your voice has the affect of hands upon me. Our conversation ranges from politics to our daily lives and then to the desire we have for each other. Before the night is done you have phoned American Airlines and I have a ticket waiting for me in Miami for a Friday afternoon flight.

Exciting to fly to the Caribbean for a weekend, decadent, sexy, very grown up. I choose my outfit carefully, I’ll be at work till noon, then come home and change, drive to Miami. I am wide awake, I make myself come with my hand just to bring on sleep. In the morning I pack my bag, iron the outfit I’ll wear and wash my hair. I shave my legs and groom myself in the more intimate areas and head off to work after informing my roommate over coffee and giggles what I was up to.


Work passed quickly and thankfully there are no terrible accidents on I-95.

My drive to Miami was perfectly timed, no traffic at all. I parked in the short term lot, I’d be back on Sunday night, noted the level and made my way to the terminal. I’d chosen a beautiful khaki suit, fitted jacket and a skirt that was short enough to be sexy and long enough to be sexier. My legs were nicely tanned and my medium height, bone colored pumps all came together to make me feel a very grown up and adult woman, on her way to a dirty weekend on a beautiful island. As I walked down to my gate, pausing at the security checkpoint, I stood very tall, as I resumed my journey my strides were long and purposeful, I felt very beautiful that afternoon and I could sense the admiring glances of the men I passed along my way. It sounds arrogant I know, but it was true. When you feel good about yourself, others perceive you that way. It’s the same when you have had a lot of wonderful sex ,and you emerge in public and it is as if everyone knows, they are like moths to your flame. It was a nice walk.

I checked in, got my boarding pass and with plenty of time to spare enjoyed a gin and tonic at the concourse bar.

I love airports and always try to arrive early for flights for the express reason of giving myself extra people watching time. I am curious and always keen to learn other people’s stories, even, or especially the stories of strangers, I was happy to have arrived early for my flight this Friday afternoon. The man to my right was a British expat just on his way home from his post in Malaysia and though weary was eager to share an anecdote to two about life in Asia.

After a leisurely cocktail and interesting conversation my flight was called and off I went. For reasons I won’t go into here I sat in the front of the plane and had some sort of seafood salad and champagne. The flight was uncomplicated and in a few short hours I was landing on an island that was world’s away. The new airport was a shocking contrast to the old world war II hangar that had previously fulfilled airport functions. It had been a cavernous and dirty structure, though it had it’s charms. I noticed that there was no longer a welcoming desk with complimentary rum punches, and the there was nothing that approximated the old Sparky’s bar and lounge that used to sit right in the center of the old oversized quonset hut terminal.

The new terminal was all white and clean, and modern in design. The sky was clear but the tropical night air was like a warm fuzzy sweater, urging me to take my jacket off and shake my hair loose. The scent of frangi-pani was overwhelming and seemed in concert with the sound of the tree frogs and other tropical noises.

You were there when I turned my head at the open air baggage carousel. Tall and broad shouldered I felt myself shudder and my hips fall toward yours as you embraced me, held my face between your hands and tenderly kissed my lips. My best description of you is Tony Curtis in the 70s, but taller, and more muscular, and Italian.

You grab my luggage and we are in your car, the top is down and we are driving up the winding mountain road each turn offering a different view of the island below. From up here the night is sparkling and clear, the harbour below is ringed with bracelets of light, the boats anchored are glowing gems, and the water is a mirror of this breathtaking beauty. I gasp because no matter how often I see it, I never tire of it, it is always different, more beautiful than the last I saw it. I am so happy to be here with you in this moment.

Nearly at the top of the mountain we stop and make our way into a small and hidden restaurant with it’s own unique vista of the harbour. Some champagne, a delicious meal of fresh fish while your hands touch me, in intimate ways. Your hand between my shoulder blades, between my knees, between my thighs, touching me as I eat, and I sip my champagne.I am an instrument that only you can play now. Your kisses are like fire on my neck, they burn in a good way and your thighs are as iron to my hand, your cock a piece of steel.

You touch me as you look straight into my eyes, you know me like no other man ever will, and I am full of desire for you. My panties are damp with my desire for you. I am trembling with desire for you and I remember little of the moments from the restaurant to your home. The scent of you, this place, the champagne, the air I breathe fills me with wanting for you, I want all of you, I am so eager to make love to you that I can barely stand it and I begin to take my clothes off while we are still driving in your car, around the mountain curves, rising up. My hair streams out behind me in the wind and as I lean back and look into the sky I see the Southern Cross peeking up from the horizon.

You park the car and the view from this height is even more stunning. I place my hand on you, and draw you to me, your scent is that heady man scent, I would be happy to bury my head in your arms. The parking area is above the house and we carefully navigate the steep stairs leading to the house below, taking care with the thorny bougainvillea and the more friendly hibiscus branches ringing the stairway that leads to the main entrance of the house. At the bottom of the stairs a set of sturdy wooden gates waited to be unlocked. They weren’t doors to the interior of a home, but, as is the case so often in the tropics, the gates were a separation of space, not a demarcation. They were more of a curtain than a physical barrier.

Like a hidden treasure this house revealed itself in stages and when the gates were opened the pool and the harbour view was the heart stopper. Lit softly from below the pool glowed and seemed to disappear over the edge of the cliff down to the harbour thousands of feet below. Next to the pool the master bedroom formed an open air triangle. Beside the pool was a vast lounge chair and it was to this that I was led, strong hand at the small of my back, hot and nibbling kisses on my neck, and throbbing between my legs.

Mad, mad lovemaking, some adventures and beachside forays. Each and every moment I am with you, I treasure it, I try to breathe you, to etch this into my mind. I realize as this is happening that these are moments I won’t ever forget and I am thankful to know this now, to savor this now as it is happening to love you in this moment all the more.

Sunday at six I caught my return flight, arrived back in Miami, drove north on an empty highway, and was home in my own bed before midnight. Lips bruised but a good hurt, a soreness that I wanted to linger longer. To prove to myself that this had been real.

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