Ricardo and Juliana

The woman said, "At The Davenport Group we don't talk about diversity, we live diversity, for inclusivity is the key to the dynamic world we live in today, and will tomorrow."

A voice from the back of the room: "Honey I'll show you dynamic."

I moved my chair closer to my son, a lady's instinctive reaction to such crudity, leaned into him, whispered, "Apparently it's a night for the inappropriate," reached under the table, worked his zipper down as he, hands in his lap, undid his belt and the clasp of his pants.

I reached for my purse, took out a small bottle of skin lotion pilfered from the suite's bathroom (I was prepared, I'd done this before), worked it into my hands under the table, reached for him. He'd pulled his boxers down to his thighs; his cock, hard and long, swung free.

Wrapping my fingers around its base I twisted my fist up him, stopping just below the crown, where I worked the underside where crown and shaft met with my thumb. His dick pulsated, grew hotter and harder, he let out a deep long breath.

The lubrication provided by his pre-cum enhancing the hand cream, I cupped my hand on his crown and swirled my palm and fingers on it, clockwise, counter-clockwise, squeeze, repeat.

The film continued: the sweet actors praising my employer's progressive practices contrasting neatly with the actual employees' lewd comments.

I looked to Mr. Davenport. He'd zoned out, no longer heard the chatter.

I turned back to my son, saw his jaw tighten. We had time so, holding his ball sac, I walked him down a few notches, rolled his testicles with my fingers, then let go, squirted a bit more lotion on my hand and returned to his shaft, rotating my hand, sliding it up and down. He rocked his hips in a motion undetectable in this dark room by this snockered crowd.

I checked my phone, we had time, let go of the shaft, cradled and cuddled his heavy balls, leaned into him and said, "Ready honey?"

"Yeah."

His cock, from which pre-cum now spilled like a well-maintained fountain, was throughly lubed; no more lotion was required. Grip tight, my twisting hand worked its way up, then ran my palm on the crown, moving my fingers on the top of his shaft. His jaw locked, his fists tightened, and I said -- there was no fear of being overheard in this room -- "When we get back to the suite Mommy's gonna fuck your brains out."

Manfully suppressing his groans -- I'd learned in the last twenty-fours hours how loud he could be -- Randall sucked in air, gripped the side of the table, and, as the film drew to an end exploded, spraying cum on the bottom of the table.

When I let go he shifted position, pulled his pants up. I cleaned all but the tip of my index finger with the wipe and napkins stashed in my lap, then brought that finger to my mouth and, as my son watched, licked off his cream.

Turning my attention back to our neighbors I watched Gema move up and away from her husband, pull a hand from under the table, bring a finger to her mouth, wink at me, lick it.

That's why the boss had been so unperturbed.

* * * * *

The food, especially in light of the storm, was excellent and over coffee and dessert Mr. Davenport asked each honoree, including me, to stand, said kind words about each, then said, "Now its time to congratulate the salesman, excuse me, Salesperson of the Year. The name will surprise no one, she has been among the company's top performers for years. Kara Toro congratulations."

To unanimous applause and several salacious comments I joined Mr. Davenport at the podium where he said, "You should also know I received a note from the mayor of this city this afternoon. Kara and her son Randall spent the day volunteering at a relief station, where I'm told she whipped an ad hoc effort into an well-organized operation which helped thousands of people. He thanked her, me, and the company. Ms. Toro embodies The Davenport Way."

I waited for someone to add "not," but for once they were good boys.

After being presented a certificate and a handsome bonus check -- the company had a good year -- I thanked everyone, posed for photographs with the brass, then returned to my son. Gema and Mr. Davenport worked their way to us through the crowd and he said, "Kara, I need to apologize. I've been busy all day, didn't realize, although I should, that with the city shut down the boys would spend the day drinking. When I saw the condition they were in, well I figured it best to keep them here where we could keep an eye on them. Gema's given me a new point of view on the world, I promise there will be changes around here."

* * * * *

In the suite I kept my promise. I fucked Randall's brains out, found them, put them back, did it again

* * * * *

The next morning I was standing in the kitchenette, wearing my son's shirt, sipping coffee, when Randall, checking his phone, came in, laid his palm on my ass, kissed me.

"Shae and Jasmyn got in late; I got a text from Shae at 2:00 A.M. Today's flight is on, but will be delayed, she says to meet then downstairs at noon, they'll give us a lift to the airport. I bet they're grateful for the chance to sleep in."

I kissed him, ran my hand on his chest, and said, "I bet they are, I sure am. Let's go to your room and rumple the bed. We wouldn't want the staff to think we slept together."

* * * * *

Dressed for a day on an airplane, khaki shorts, pull over black shirt, and sheer bra, I saw Shae and Jasmyn waiting in the lobby. Shae looked much the same as she had on the flight down, scrumptious. Jasmyn's hair, in contrast to the neat shoulder length cut she'd worn earlier, now exploded from her head in a series of long lose curls. Exceptionally sexy.

After greeting and hugging each other I went to turn in the key. The lady behind the counter said, "Kara Toro?"

"Yes, that's me.

Picking up the phone she said, "Carlos asked me to alert him when you checked out."

Carlos appeared moments later, handed me an envelope and small jewelry box, and said in clearly rehearsed English, "Ricardo and Ms. Juliana asked that I give this to you."

Inside the envelope was a note; the handwriting was graceful. I scanned it, then read it out loud.

My dear Kara, Randall:

It was my and Juliana's wish to be there to say Que tengas un vuelo seguro, te veremos pronto, but we remain busy in the mountains. The infrastructure here is primitive -- the injured must be transported by helicopter -- and if Juliana or I flew out someone who needed medical care would be left behind. I hope you understand. I asked a pilot, a friend of mine, to bring Carlos this note and small gift. Juliana and I look much forward to next seeing you and your son.

Both had signed it.

Inside the box was a necklace. From a strand of understated gold hung a bird carved from wood. When I held it up Carlos, as translated by Jasmyn, said, "It is the clay-colored thrush, Costa Rico's national bird."

I put it around my neck, kissed Carlos' cheek, asked him to thank Ricardo, and, as he hurried back to work turned to my companions.

Randall said, "What wood is that, it's almost luminescent."

I'd recognized it instantly. "Bing-bang-go wood, from Africa."

Shae and Jasmyn looked at it, then each other -- you could see the wheels turning -- and Jasmyn said, "We should have figured it out."

Shae said, "Yeah."

Randall said, "Figured what out?"

Jasmyn said, "People at the party from the airline said there were two strangers there with whom Ricardo and Juliana seemed quite taken. Their identity was a mystery. It was you two."

I said, "I didn't know people from the airline were there."

Shae laughed and said, "Honey, he owns the airline."

* * * * *

In the city I was not surprised to see the streets, other than official and relief vehicles, empty. I was surprised on the way to the airport. While a steady stream of vehicles were headed into town, only a few were driving to the airport.

I knew my co-workers, anticipating heavy hang-overs, had scheduled late flights, but where was everyone else? Wouldn't people be trying to leave? And who was coming in?

"Jasmyn, Shae, what's going on?"

Jasmyn said, "Most of the secondary roads remain impassible, the poor, even if they could afford to evacuate, can't get out. The rich, if they want out, already found a way. The people coming in are relief and emergency personnel."

As we proceeded, seeing the extent of the disaster, we grew quiet and, lost in thought, I studied my companions. Both were beautiful. While Shae's build was similar to mine, curvy and well-endowed, she had several inches on me and her light complexion matched her blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Jasmyn was taller and thinner, five nine or ten, 120 pounds or so. She, like Juliana, had the build of a fashion model: slim shoulders and hips, flat belly, small breasts and butt cheeks. I guessed 33-23-35. And while technically black, her skin tone was not much darker than my own. However, unlike my oversized features, wide face, big eyes, mouth, and lips, her features were small and perfectly symmetrical.

She noticed me staring at her.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I was just thinking how pretty you are."

With a slight blush Jasmyn said, "Thank you, you are beautiful yourself."

I turned away, thinking about Juliana, of our kiss, her mouth in its way every bit as delightful as her father's. There was a rumpus in my sex; it'd been awhile since I'd made love to a woman.

* * * * *

Jasmyn was correct, as the passengers of the incoming flight disembarked Randall and I found ourselves talking to the only other people in the first class line. Elderly and clearly devoted to each other, they introduced themselves as the Rockinghams'. She explained she'd inherited a vacation home in Costa Rica from her parents, but they'd only been visiting it for the past three years.

"It's a lovely country, I regret we didn't start going earlier, but my husband and I share a fear of flying. Our doctor suggested this little white pill. We take it when we reach the gate, in half an hour we're out cold. Sleep like babies the entire flight. I'm told sometimes my darling snores, bothers the people around us, but I don't expect that will be a problem today. We'll sit in the back, so you two young people can sit in the front and stretch those long legs."

Which, once we'd boarded, they, removing their hearing aids, did.

Shae, after straightening the blanket they'd pulled over themselves, said to me, "Wonderful people, they fly with us often. High school sweet-hearts, married fifty-five years. We'll need to wake them when we land. They'll be groggy, but their son meets them at the airport and makes sure they get home safe."

After we were airborne Shae and Jasmyn served our drinks and meals and then asked if it was okay if they disappeared awhile. The emergency meant extra reports and they were supposed to turn in the paperwork for yesterday's flight, which they hadn't started yet due to their late arrival, when we landed. We told them to go ahead, we'd ring them if we needed anything.

After they disappeared, absent-mindedly fingering my necklace, thinking about Ricardo, wanting the warmth of a body against mine, I snuggled up to my son and said, "The cabin's a bit cool."

"I could buzz Shae and Jasmyn, ask them to turn up the temperature."

I glanced at the slumbering couple behind us. Anticipating the chilled atmosphere they were covered in a blanket and wore sweaters. They looked comfortable, and Shae and Jasmyn were busy.

"No, why don't you get us a blanket."

He did, laid it over us.

We lowered our seats, I pressed myself to his warm body, and my son turned on his phone, did who knows what teenagers do with those things. I'd slept little -- we'd fucked deep into the night and, in anticipation of our flight, gotten up early -- and eyes closed I was drifting in that happy place on the edge of sleep, recalling the last few days: Juliana and Ricardo on the sand dune, I and Ricardo on the balcony, my son and I, Juliana's sweet lips. There was a steady burn between my legs.

Ricardo had said we'd meet again, but he was not a one-woman man. It could never be just us, there'd always be Juliana, always be dalliances. But somehow I knew that, unlike any other man I'd known, he wouldn't expect anything different from me, and there'd always be Randall.

Mr. and Mrs. Rockingham, devoted to each other and only each other, were happy and content. I had no argument with them, it was a good life, but I didn't want to be them, didn't want their life.

I snuggled closer to my son, lay a hand on his chest, then felt his hand on the buttons of my shorts, deftly undoing them. Whispering, "I like that," I turned my head and kissed his mouth as he, my shorts now open, slipped a finger inside me.

In what should not be a surprise, I was wet.

When the kiss ended I touched his face. I was the first in my family not to marry a fellow Hispanic and it showed in my son's bright blue eyes and light brown hair. He did have my full lips and high cheekbones. I moved my hand behind his head, brought him to me, kissed him. His hand moved under my shirt, to my breasts.

I moaned as strong fingers pulled my bra down, danced across the sensitive flesh, avoided my areolas. I shifted, wanting his hands on my nipples, but he grabbed the hem of my shirt, lifting it, and as the blanket slid from my chest ducked his head and dragged his tongue on my belly, through the valley between my breasts, past my collarbone, to my neck, to my mouth. We kissed, I tasted me on his tongue.

Randall's hand groped, squeezed, and caressed my breasts, then moved across my flat stomach to my shorts.

Did we dare go this far?

I lifted my butt and my son pulled my shorts and panties over my hips. When he did the heavy odor of my arousal filled the air and I let out a moan of pure lust. My son, hunger burning in his eyes, crushed his lips to mine, his tongue speared into my mouth, a finger moved inside my sex. I grabbed his wrist, held him to me, said, "Yeah, just like that."

He pumped his fingers and ecstasy poured through me in powerful waves, a squall of unrelenting pleasure. I sucked in air, kissed my son with desire and love and lust; he angled his hand so its heel rubbed my clit and thrust another finger into me.

I pulled my bra down, twisted my nipples between thumb and index finger. Randall cupped my right breast, took the thick nipple into his mouth and knowing I was way past sweet and gentle, assaulted it with tongue and teeth.

I felt it, in the pit of my belly, building, growing bigger and bigger, pressure, scary and beautiful. Randall's fingers, burning bright and hot, plunged deep inside me, invaded the core of my being, the heel of his hand flattened my clit, set off fireworks.

"Oh god son, yes yes just like that."

It could no longer be contained and arching like a composite bow I drove my mouth into my son's shoulder, partially muffling my scream as my belly burst. He crooked his fingers, jabbed them into my g-spot, and my body, pivoting on his hand, thrashed and shook while pulse after pulse of wild mind-bending rapture flowed through me. I lost track of everything but what was happening inside me until my son's fingers slid from inside me and I heard myself sucking in air.

Wearing a vacant goofy smile I turned to him, which is not as easy when your muscles have been reduced to overstretched rubber. He ran his a hand through my hair, said, "You okay Mom?"

"Yeah, need a second."

He looked over the top of his seat.

"We're fine, our fellow-travelers are out cold."

"Good, take off your shorts."

He did, he's a good boy, and I reached for his balls -- he'd worn no underwear -- fondled, squeezed. They were hot and heavy, packed with cum, and I let a thick glob of spit ooze between my lips onto his dick, wrapped a hand on him, my twisting fingers sliding easily on the slick heavy liquid, leaned over, took him in my mouth.

Muttering, "Oh yes," my son slid his hands through my brown hair.

I rolled my tongue on him, bobbed my head, felt his cock pulsate, took him deeper, then heard a familiar voice, "Are you two being naughty?"

I let him slide from my mouth and Randall said, "A little, are we in trouble?"

Shae said, "Jasmyn aren't there regulations about this?"

Jasmyn said, "I think so. Should I call the FAA and ask?"

Shae said, No, what the FAA doesn't know won't hurt it."

I said, "How long have you two been standing there?"

Shae, unbuttoning her blue shirt, said, "A few minutes. I guess we've been naughty too, we could have respected your privacy but, on the other hand, it is our airplane. Can we play?"

Looking at me Randall said, "Always happy for some company."

Jasmyn, undoing the skirt of her uniform, said, "Good, cause we just got word that in light of the late flight and our dedication to duty we have another twenty-four hours to turn in our report. So we're available and," indicating Shae with a nod of her head, she said. "I've heard some hot things about you from a friend."

She stepped out of her skirt and handed it and her jacket to Shae, who hung then on a hook on the bulkhead.

Jasmyn wasn't wearing panties and other than a small rectangular patch of neatly trimmed fuzz above her clit, was bald as a billiard ball. A stream of juice trickling from her pussy, she pushed two fingers into herself, and her labia, swollen with arousal, pouted open.

Jasmyn said, "So Randall, have you ever done it on an airplane?"

"Uhh, no."

"I have. Position is very important. Normally I prefer doggy, like the angle and depth, especially with a nice thick cock like yours, but not possible here. So reverse cowgirl. Pretty much the same angle, lets me set the pace, grind my cunt on you. That is, if you like that sort of thing?"

Randall said, "I do," and as I reached down to twiddle my clit Jasmyn turned around, straddled my son, reached between her legs, wrapped her slender fingers on Randall's dick, held him to her sex, and sat, absorbing my son's sizeable instrument in a single quick motion.

"Oh yeah, love this cock."

Reaching around, Randall fumbled with the buttons of Jasmyn's shirt but Shae, who'd been fingering her stiff nipples through her open shirt and sheer black bra, moved Randall's hands to Jasmyn's hips, said, "Let me," kissed her friend's mouth, then unbuttoned Jasmyn's shirt and undid the front clasp of her frilly feminine bra.

Jasmyn's breasts were lovely. Slightly asymmetric "A's," the left larger than the right, capped with dark nipples that contrasted smartly with her caramel skin.

Hands on the arm rests, Jasmyn slowly lifted her body, my son's now glistening cock sliding from her pussy, then moved back down at the same deliberate pace, her pussy splaying open on his girth. When he was back inside she leaned against him, turned her head, kissed him. Randall slid his hands to her breasts, squeezed; she rotated her hips, moving his dick around inside her cunt.

Then Shae, who was standing before me, placed her hands on the top of my seat and leaned forward. She'd taken off her shirt and bra. Her breasts were beautiful. Like mine, they were "D's," but while mine were bell-shaped with thick dark nipples and areolas, hers were full and round, her areolas and nipples small and pink.

Shae said, "The other day, the morning in your suite, something about the way you looked at me, I was thinking, hoping maybe you might like girls," then cupped a breast, moved it towards me. By way of an answer I took as much as I could into my mouth, moaning into the mountain of tit-flesh, licked the areola and nipple with the flat of my tongue, enjoying the contrast of her soft skin and the hard quivering nub, then dragged my tongue down the slope of her breast, through the valley between them, up the other breast, held the nipple between my lips, tickled it with the tip of my tongue. Moaning, she pressed her breast into my face; I nursed on areola and nipple with happy eager lips.