Delicate Hum

There was a hum that is distracting me from falling asleep. On a red-eye flight to New York that was going to last at least five hours and my utter exhausting from a week of conferences, the hum was literally killing me.

It wasn’t the low rumble of the turbines on the wings a few rows ahead of me. It wasn’t from the few computers that people still had on. It was as if I could almost feel it as well as hear it. It haunted me that much.

I go through all of the possible sources and eliminate them. Eliminate them until I am left to my general area. I’ve filtered out all of the other white noise sources, but the hum. It was so faint, that almost in any other mental state, I could filter it out too. But, in its own way, it was like a gong in my head now, it countered all of the other white noise to stand out like a song.

I look toward the lady sitting next to me, sleeping soundly. The hum wasn’t bothering her. I look toward the one person sitting one row ahead of me on the other side of the aisle, snoring miserably. I could filter out that train wreck of noise, but not the hum.

The lady next to me lets out the softest of sighs, so I turn to look at her again. Sleeping and nearly still, one of those too-small-to-be-effective airplane blankets draped over her lap. I nearly turn my head to hunt for the hum when the lady gave the slightest of shivers. Her breath was controlled, but not quite relaxed. She was almost still, but not still in a restful way. It was easy to overlook when not really looking. Now that I was looking, however, she had enough tells that she was only appearing to be sleeping that it was impossible not to see it now. Just like it was impossible not to hear the hum.

I couldn’t escape the hum because it was coming from her. I couldn’t escape it because perhaps I could feel it in the most minute of ways. The slight arousal that was building as I realized what the hum was,made it even more impossible to try to forget about, not less.

I took my eyes off of her, yet her restful face seemed burned in my vision. She was pretty, if not beautiful. Soft lips, glowing skin, face framed in a raven black bob. But, it was a face of a woman currently trying to pleasure herself while believing the few around her were unaware.

Now that I was aware, my mind ran away with the thought. What wonderland did her mind take her while her vibrator buzzed away? Did it excite her more or less that someone was sitting right next to her while she was getting away with getting off in public? Did she dream about getting caught or just getting away with it?

My mind played out scenarios faster than I could process them. My blood was pumping hard and burning quick as it rushed faster in my body. My arousal was more intense than was comfortable, knowing I had few possibilities to relieve it.

I closed my eyes and tried to block it out. Instead, my mind weaved a fantasy of the lady being less discreet about how she pleasured herself. Blanket gone, skirt hiked up, fingers dancing. She was wearing a smile watching me watch her.

The more I tried to not think about her, the more explicit she became, the louder the hum seemed to become. As if drawing me deeper into becoming an active partner to the illicit behavior.

With my resolve slowly disintegrating, I allowed myself a moment of utter foolishness, and let me hand fall so it rested between my leg and hers, the top of my hand barely resting against her pathetic blanket. I could feel the hum against her leg.

I heard a slight gasp, but forced my breathing to be a slow, restful rhythm, my eyes softly closed. I wait for her to shift her leg away, but she never does. Did she catch me in my subterfuge? Did she believe me asleep but having the contact, slight as it was, added to the danger? I played out both scenarios and everyone in between in my head, more aroused than I have been for a long time, ensnared because of a haunting hum.

I feel the blanket move my hand, and suddenly feel my hand make direct contact with her warm thigh. In the process of adjusting her blanket, she makes sure my hand is now underneath its warmth, hidden. The jolt of it all was almost too much. My brain racing. Again. Am I caught, or is she adding more danger to increase her own thrill.

My fingers itched to be on the other side of her thigh. My cock quivered in the confines of my pants, currently the worst torture device ever devised.

I think about pulling away and ending the game, but I find I cannot. I think about opening my eyes to see, only to feel her rest her hand against mine. My breath caught and my eyes opened in reflex.

I caught her staring at me, with the softest of smiles. A gentleman, innocent of his crime, would have pulled his hand away, apologetically. She let out a gasp, I felt the smallest of quakes from her. She either caught me or deemed I wasn’t quite the gentleman. She lifted my hand to rest on top of her thigh, and pretended sleep once more. The invitation as clear and the delicate hum.

I closed my eyes as well and let my fingers slowly melt toward the source of the hum. It felt like it took forever to get there, the journey was the most blissful journey ever taken though.

The warmth increased, as did the humidity. The pulse of the hum felt stronger, countered to the pulse of her pulse. My fingers finally reached the hot wetness of her core, and I was struck with so much pent up lust my fingers caused her to hiss through her teeth.

I opened my eyes and saw wanton hunger staring back at me. The lady could have been the ugliest on the planet, and in that moment, she would have been the most gorgeous wearing that hunger.

My fingers fought the vibrator for surface area, the lady didn’t seem to mind. I was slowly forgetting where we were, so was she. The pleasure was giving way to a deeper need of intimate connection. And the power in that the only pleasure that could be directly tapped was hers, mine forced to hover in a strange limbo.

As if reading my mind, she rested her hand on my crotch and squeezed. I grunted and she beamed. In response, I dove my fingers as far down her as our positions allowed. She squirmed and got lost in them. I pressed my palm againsts the small vibrator and it pressed against her clit and then I fucked her just like that, beyond sane, just driven by lustful need.

I felt the warm wash flow over my fingers and she bit into her pathetically small pillow and trembled. I let her ride my hand and let myself enjoy the moment, even in my tortured limbo. It felt like forever, yet it was over way too soon.

Our little world smelled like her. It was intoxicating and maddening. She smiled, the most wicked of smiles. I tried to return it. The speakers suddenly cut into our private moment, “I am sorry passengers, but we are being diverted to Denver because of the weather. The airline is making arrangements for getting you all rooms for the duration.”

The lady smiled as if she won the biggest prize in the world, “It seems like we will be getting rooms for the night?”

“Or, perhaps we could save the airline some money by sharing one?”

“Perhaps…” Her eyes twinkled with all of the promises of a lover desiring to pay back in full.