When Hosties Wore Stockings
by Michele Nylons
Copyright© 2009 by Michele Nylons

By the time Mike Harris boarded his Continental Airlines flight out of Houston bound for New York he was shagged. The cheery "welcome aboard" issued with a smile by the cabin staff at the door of the aircraft was about as insincere as the offer he had turned down at the business meeting he had just attended.

To make matters worse the fruitless meeting had stretched late into the afternoon and he had had to hurry to make his flight. Then the surly attendant at the check-in desk had tried to downgrade him to coach. Mike stood his ground; he'd paid full fare for a guaranteed reservation in business-first.

"Look darlin' just get your head down into the computer and downgrade your Uncle Harry or whoever you gave my seat away to, and give me my business-first boarding pass. Or we can get your supervisor over here!" Mike had finally had enough.

The frazzled attendant clicked and clattered away on her keyboard, blowing and grumbling, but she had finally printed a ticket for business-first with Mike Harris' name printed on it.

"Enjoy your flight," she'd given him the most insincere smile he had ever seen.

"Thank you sweetheart'; that wasn't so hard now was it," he smiled back.

"You're welcome," she smiled back at him.

Mike grabbed his carry-on baggage and hurried away from the check-in desk.

"Fucking Yanks; they always have to have the last word!" he hissed as he headed for the Elite lounge hoping to scoff a couple of gin and tonics before he had to board his flight.

On board the aircraft Mike got to his aisle seat and managed to stuff his carry-on baggage into the overhead locker and get himself seated before the coach passengers started to board. He checked out the hosties and sighed to himself: 'what the fuck was going on with stewardesses these days?'

One of the flight attendants had to be sixty-five if she was a day! Not that he minded older women; in fact Mike had a penchant for older sophisticated woman, and let's be honest; Mike was no spring chicken himself. But Christ! This woman's hair looked like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards and she was wearing hardly any makeup. The horrible, shapeless, black pantsuit with the gold piping she wore was appalling as were her badly scuffed, wedge-heeled shoes. She looked drab and sexless.

Her partner, although considerably younger and pretty, in a self-indulgent sort of way, looked no better. She opted for the skirt and blouse version of the uniform but it too was shapeless and bland. She wore those atrocious navy-blue opaque tights which made her legs look like scorched tree trunks.

Mike was a leg man — always had been - always would be; but he was getting no leg action on this flight.

The frumpy older stewardess approached him and offered him water or orange juice and had rolled her eyes when he'd asked for champagne, she had clomped off to the service area to get him his drink. She had tried to give him an insipid smile, but Mike knew he'd pissed her off but he didn't care a fuck.

Hosties today (of course you couldn't call them that; you couldn't even call the stewardesses — they were 'Flight Attendants' or 'Cabin Staff') seemed to want to get you strapped in, throw you a pack of peanuts and maybe later a meal, and then have done with you. Shut up and watch the in-flight entertainment and leave them alone to gossip at the front of the cabin. Woes betide if you push the call button. "You want what!!!!"

Mike knew that the flight attendants referred to the passengers as 'sheep'.

The aisle began to crowd with economy-class passengers waiting to get further down the aisle to their seats. There were the usual suspects who made the experience of flying today so much fun:

Fat, loud, Americans: men and women dressed in Bermuda shorts, T-shirts, and sports shoes, with their gaggle of undisciplined spoiled brats who seemed to think that everyone on the plane needed to know they were going to visit Aunt Sally on Long Island.

A gang of British 'Lager Louts' wearing European football club jumpers, already pissed, broadcasting intelligent quips such as "Whooaaay!" "Go the Red Devils!" and "Any chance we get a kebab on this flight?" They would undoubtably get stinking drunk and get louder; they were on their way to New York and Mike hoped there were a couple of muggers there waiting to kick their arses.

A Family of Indian's pushed their way down the aisle gibbering and bickering. They appeared to be carrying enough cabin baggage to feed the starving of Calcutta.

"Christ," Mike muttered to himself and flicked open the in-flight magazine to see what third-rate movies they were running on this leg. Mike had a day layover in New York and then he would make a connecting flight to London. He was glad to be heading home.

Eventually the crowd thinned out enough so that the hostie could get to him and she plonked the tumbler of insipid bubbly on his tray table and spun on her heels to depart. Mike kicked his pillow under the seat in front of him and called out.

"Stewardess? Stewardess?"

She spun around and Mike could see the fiery look in her eyes.

"Yes sir! And by the way we are Flight Attendants; not Stewardesses," she spat.

"May I have a pillow; mine seems to have disappeared?" he smiled up at her, tipping his drink and taking a sip.

She reached into the overhead locker and dropped a pillow into Mike's lap and slammed the overhead locker closed.

"Anything else sir?" she asked.

"No thank you," Mike grinned.

Just before she got out of earshot Mike muttered:

"Flight Attendant! You're a flying waitress!"

The hostie gave him a ferocious glare and moved to the front of the cabin. Mike watched her large arse wriggle in the shapeless black trousers as she stomped down the aisle in her awful scuffed shoes. The screens dropped down and Larry Kellner's bald smiling face began to drone on about his airline's customer service and Mike Harris sipped his drink and allowed his mind to wander back to a better time in the annals of air travel. A time when flying was a pleasure, a time when hosties were young, pretty and attentive; a time when passengers comfort and satisfaction came first; a time when hosties wore stockings...

...

In 1974 BOAC introduced a new service flying their brand-new 747s non-stop from Heathrow to Singapore. Michele Bouvier had been assigned to the leg since its inception but this was to be her last flight with BOAC. At thirty she was considered too old to be an airline hostess and would either have to resign or take a job in customer service. BOAC retired their hostesses when they either married or became 'too old'. These were the days when political correctness and women's lib were yet to rear their heads.

Michele Bouvier had always wanted to be an airline hostess; the job was glamorous and exciting. After a few years the excitement wore off but the glamour remained. She was proud of her job and she took it seriously; she had never transgressed BOAC's code of conduct. But now they were tossing her aside so she decided that this last trip she was going to enjoy herself.

As the senior stewardess on the flight she would be looking after the first-class section on the upper deck of the 747; there were only three passengers flying in the upper deck cabin on this flight so she would look after it on her own. She was hoping to take it easy and even sneak in a couple of drinks. Fuck the code of conduct! BOAC was throwing her away after years of devoted service. Besides the company was about to merge BEA and become British Airways so who knew if she would even have a job?

Michele was feeling a little sad as well as angry so she had drunk a couple of drinks before she showed up for the flight. That was the good thing about gin and tonics; people couldn't smell the drinks on your breath.

Michele stood at the top of the spiral stairway waiting for her passengers. She wore the latest version of the BOAC airline hostess uniform. She wore a form-fitting navy-blue A-line skirt; the hem of which rested six inches above her knees. The company would insist that their hostesses wear mini-skirts if they could get away with it but decorum prevailed. Michele quite liked the new uniform and she had good legs and didn't mind showing them off.

She was wearing a matching fitted jacket with rounded collar and a hidden zip at the front, very derigour in seventies, the BOAC emblem on her upper sleeve and the single gold wing pinned to her left breast, designated her as flight cabin staff. She wore the jacket over a white cotton blouse under which she wore a white satin bra. She had a pair of matching panties for the bra; but she had decided on function over form and wore a pair of large white nylon full-cut knickers. The full-cut knickers were more comfortable than bikini panties and they didn't ride up during the long tedious flight. She wore her knickers over a white lace suspender belt.

A lot of the other hosties had started wearing the wedge-heeled shoes that were now approved for wear by the company but here Michele had put fashion over form and insisted on still wearing her black, patent-leather, high-heeled court shoes; she also refused to wear tights. Most of the girls now wore tights, or pantyhose as the American's call them, but Michele actually found stockings to be more practical.

She could use the toilet without pulling down her tights, if she laddered one stocking she could still use the other because she always wore the same brand, her crotch didn't get as sweaty as did the girls who wore tights, and she had to admit; wearing stockings made her feel more feminine.

BOAC had dictated that hostesses working in the economy cabin were to wear dark hosiery to complement their navy-blue uniform and the hostesses in first class were to wear flesh toned hosiery. She found some of the decisions made by the management quite silly and frustrating at times but she had to admit that the flesh-toned stockings looked better with the dark uniform.

Michele wore Aristoc fifteen-denier tan stockings with an almost indiscernible back-seam, reinforced toes, beige shadow-welts and chocolate-brown top-welts that were almost as sheer as the hose. They were expensive but relatively long lasting. The back-seam and welts were purely for decoration but Michele loved the style, look and fit of the stockings. She knew that the other hosties laughed at her behind her back for being so old fashioned but Michele never forgot that an airline hostess must always look her best!

This went for makeup as well. Michele wore foundation, face-powder and rouged cheeks. Her bright hazel eyes were enhanced by green-blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner and lashings of black mascara. Her lips were painted with bright-red lipstick and her fingernails were painted with matching nailpolish as were her toenails. Her brunette hair was cut in a carefully coiffured bob; the nape resting on her collar. Perched on top of her head was the hat with BOAC badge on it; she liked the uniform but hated the silly hat and couldn't wait to take it off.

Of course Michele accessorised herself tastefully: stylish gold earrings with matching bracelets and watch, and a gold necklace around her neck. She wore a gold ring set with a large ruby on her wedding-ring finger even though she wasn't engaged and she wore an assortment of other rings on her other fingers. She also wore lashings of Channel No 5.

Mike Harris was welcomed aboard the gleaming new 747 by a delightfully pretty young hostess who directed him towards the staircase that led to the upper deck first class section. Mike was excited; he was a young lawyer in a distinguished law firm and this was his first overseas assignment. He clambered up the staircase and when he looked up he was rewarded with the sight of a lovely pair of shapely legs clad in sheer hose disappearing under a rather short navy-blue skirt.

If he wasn't mistaken he could just make out a shadow-welt near the top of the hosiery and a discrete back-seam that suggested that those shapely legs were in fact encased in stockings rather than tights. As he climbed further up the staircase he saw that the hostie had a nice full firm arse snugly sheathed in her dark uniform skirt. When he arrived at the upper level of the aircraft he was greeted with a beaming smile by the mature attractive hostess.

Michele smiled at the young man as he came up the stairs and entered the first class cabin; she was keenly aware that he had been eying her legs on the way up and normally this would cause her to have a little disdain for the passenger but this young man seemed very nice and he was very handsome.

"Welcome aboard," she smiled.

"Thank you very much," Mike smiled back and headed towards his seat at the rear of the small cabin.

He was not aware of the protocol of letting the hostess look at his boarding pass and then guide him to his seat and he moved up the aisle just as Michele attempted to take his boarding pass from him and this caused the two of them to bump into each other in the cramped aisle.

Mike felt Michele's ample bosom push against his chest and his crotch pushed against hers and he breathed in her beautiful scent and looked into her heavily made-up hazel eyes and his heart skipped and his penis pulsed. This older woman was not pretty in the true sense of the word but she was exotically sexy; she had nice curves and she felt absolutely wonderful as their bodies briefly pressed together.

"Oh excuse me," Michele blushed and extricated herself from the situation.

Her breath smelled of peppermints and a hint of gin and he could smell her makeup and perfume. Mike's cock began to thicken. Michele turned away from the embarrassing situation and began to fluff the pillow on Mike's seat in an attempt to look busy. Mike was also embarrassed and he reached up to put his briefcase into the overhead locker just as Michele bent down to put the pillow on Mike's seat.

As a consequence Michele's ample behind pushed back against Mike's groin and his semi-hard cock nestled in the crease of her buttocks. Mike felt the warmth and suppleness of Michele buttocks as he pressed against her pretending to struggle with his briefcase so that he could prolong the sensation of his hardening cock rubbing the crevice of her soft round bum. Michele blushed and was then quite shocked when she felt the man behind her push his erection into the crevice of her buttocks. Her skirt was very tight and she could feel the bulge of the man's penis through the fabric of his trousers and her skirt.

Being an airline hostess Michele was well used to men being forward, trying look up her skirt or even trying to cop a feel and she was about to spin around berate this young upstart when all of sudden she felt a little tingle of sexual excitement ripple through her body. My God she was even getting a little moist!

It was Michele's last flight with BOAC and she was determined to enjoy it and be a little naughty during the flight but she hadn't expected to be doing anything this naughty. She briefly pushed her bum back against Mike and wriggled her hips; feeling Mike's cock harden inside his trousers.

She spun around suddenly and was face to face with Mike Harris again; his face was flushed and she was a little blushed.

"Excuse me sir?" she whimpered and extricated herself from between him and his seat.

As she extricated herself she lightly brushed the front of Mike's trousers letting her long fingernails scrape over the bulge of his cock. She smiled to herself as she tottered back down the aisle to the stairwell feeling the heat of Mike's eyes on her arse and legs.

Mike was quite shocked by the mature hostie's actions but he was well pleased. 'This might turn out to be a very interesting flight, ' he thought to himself.

Michele composed herself; the next passenger was coming up the stairwell and it was Lady Jane Morecroft, a regular on this flight, and real pain in the arse. Michele hoped that Lady Morecroft would drink herself to sleep, as she was known to do on occasion, so that she wouldn't nag Michele the whole flight. Lady Morecroft was a large lady, not unattractive, but very severe. She plonked her large behind into a seat at the front of the cabin and her skirt rode up her legs showing the dark bands of her control top tights. She tugged at her skirt and gave Michele a stern look when she saw her smiling at Lady Morecroft's breach of decorum.

"Make yourself useful and get me a gin and tonic!" she snapped.

"After we take off your ladyship; you can have a glass of champagne though?" Michele smiled sweetly at Lady Morecroft to disguise her distaste for the stuck-up old bag.

Lady Morecroft just huffed and nodded and busied herself with her seatbelt.

The last of her three passengers came up the stairs and entered the cabin. He was an older distinguished gentleman who buckled himself into a seat across the aisle for Lady Morecroft and promptly fell asleep. Michele went to the servery and took off her hat and jacket then she bought Lady Morecroft her champagne, and checking to make sure the other man was fast asleep, she made her way down the four rows to the back of the cabin where Mike was sitting in the window seat. She offered him a glass of champagne leaning over the aisle seat so that her blouse opened up and gave Mike a nice view of her large breasts snugly stuffed into her white satin bra.

"Thanks," Mike smiled back at her.

After takeoff Michele bought Lady Morecroft her dinner with which she had ordered a large glass of red wine. The passenger across the aisle from Lady Morecroft had put on a black eye-mask and did not want to be disturbed. Michele headed to the back row to serve Mike Harris. Mike had moved into the aisle seat; so that he could lay out some paperwork on the vacant window seat tray table.

Michele lowered Mike's tray table and the closeness of her body and the smell of her perfume began to arouse him again. He was glad that she couldn't see the bulge in his trousers. As Michele tended to him Mike's hand inadvertently touched her leg. Michele felt Mike's hand glance across her leg and she froze. Mike loved the feel of Michele's warm leg through her silky sheer nylons and this time he deliberately slipped his fingers along Michele's leg and felt the small wrinkles in her nylons at the back of her knee.

Michele ignored the man's advances and carried on serving him dinner; then Mike became brazen and stroked his fingers up and down her thigh; her nylons hissing in quiet cabin. Michele shuddered as a bolt of sexual stimulation ran through her body.

"That's a little too naughty sir, please stop sir" she said reproachfully.

Mike pulled his hand away and blushed and Michele served him his dinner in silence. Later when she had cleaned away the dinner trays Michele turned off the cabin lights and, ensuring Lady Morecroft had a fresh gin and tonic and checking to see that the other passenger was fast asleep, she made her way to the back of the cabin.

Mike had moved back to the window seat and was busy working through some notes for his business meeting the next day by the light of the little reading-light and was quite surprised when Michele slid into the seat beside him.

"I'm not supposed to do this under any circumstances you know?" she smiled.

"What's that?" Mike asked giving Michele his best smile.

"Sit with a passenger; but this is my last flight and you seem like a friendly lad and I need to get off my feet," Michele smiled back at him.

She reclined the seat and leaned forward and pulled off one of her high-heels and began to massage her toes. Mike inhaled the musky aroma of Michele's foot mingled with her perfume and he stared at her pretty painted toenails glistening through the reinforced toe of her stocking. Michele looked Mike in the face and smiled.

"Fresh out the packet twenty minutes before the flight and I think I've laddered the sodding things already."

"Would you mind checking along the back to see if they're laddered?" she knelt on the seat and spun around so that her back was to him.

This was an opportunity that Mike couldn't resist. He wasn't sure if this hostie was coming on to him or not but any chance to play with a woman's stockinged legs was not to be passed up. Mike had developed his nylon fetish when he was a young boy.

He had burst into his mother's bedroom late one night crying because he had just woken from a bad dream.

His mother had just returned from the theatre and was undressing for bed and she was dressed only in a black basque corset, sheer tan stockings and shiny black high-heels. Mike flew at his mother who was standing next to the dressing table taking off her earrings and clung to her legs sobbing.

"There, there honey, let mommy take off her jewellery and I'll be right with you," she had said reassuringly and had let Mike cling to her legs.

Mike inhaled his mother's exotic perfume and rubbed his face against her leg for a few minutes while she removed the rest of her jewellery; he found the feel of the sheer nylon very comforting and sensual. His mother lifted him up and lay with him on the bed and he snuggled up to her and she cuddled him and smothered him with kisses and cooed in his ears to comfort him. His pyjama pants were the old style with an open fly and his little penis had flopped out of the opening and rested against his mother's silken thighs and as she hugged and rocked him his little penis had hardened as it rubbed against her sensuous nylon stockings.

His mother felt her young son's penis hardening against her legs and she gently extricated him from her embrace. She smiled to herself: 'like father like son, ' she thought. Mike's dad liked to shag her while she wearing stockings and high-heels and had cost her a small fortune in hosiery over the years because he often laddered her stockings during their very vigorous sexual encounters. She looked down and saw that her son had left a little silvery trail of pre-seminal fluid on her stocking and she rubbed at it while she spoke to him.

"Mike; you are growing up now and I don't think you can hug mommy like this anymore. You have to knock and wait before you come into my bedroom understand?" she smiled sweetly at her son; not wanting him to become embarrassed or start him crying again.

Mike nodded and got off the bed and turned towards the door trying to hide the little bulge at the front of his pyjama pants.

"Ok mommy," he said and silently padded out the door back to his own bedroom.

His mother smiled again and sighed; 'her little boy was growing up so quickly, ' she thought but then Mike's dad came out of the ensuite bathroom and fell on top of her; fumbling his cock out of his underpants intent on giving his wife a good shagging.

"You looked so good lying there in that corset, stockings and high-heels; you're just begging to be fucked," he grunted in her ear.

"Christ! Here goes anther pair of my best sheers," she giggled, as her husband's erect penis stabbed at her stocking tops as he tried to force his himself inside his attractive wife.

She lifted her legs up high so that her husband could enter her and she rubbed her stocking-clad along his flank the way she knew he liked her too. She didn't see her son's eye peeking through the crack in the door.

Later in the week she became suspicious when she started to find semen stains in her stockings. She knew her husband was not averse to wanking in her stockings occasionally but he liked to fuck her in her stockings more than he liked to masturbate in them and she never turned him down when he wanted to shag her so who was leaving spunk stains in her hosiery?

It didn't take her long to find a pair of her stockings, undoubtedly snatched from the laundry basket, hidden under her son's mattress. She decided not to embarrass the boy but she had to do something? She finally came up with a solution. She placed an unopened packet of expensive sheer stockings in the top drawer of his dresser to which she had stuck a hand-written note.

'Buy your own stockings with your pocket money from now!' she had written and left a bright-red lipstick kiss on the note.

Mother and son had never really spoken about the incident again but Mike had continued to develop his nylons fetish. He had only ever had two of girlfriends and they had both wore sexy nylons for him and one of them had even let him wear her tights while they fucked. So Mike Harris was not going to miss the opportunity to play with this hosties stocking-clad legs.

Michele gasped as Mike's cold fingers snaked up her leg starting at her ankle and tracing the back-seam of her stocking right up to the hem of her skirt where she reached around and placed her hand on his to stop him from going any further.

"And now the other one please," she whispered.

Mike obliged and slid his hand up her other leg and once again Michele stopped him before his hand could slide under her skirt.

"No ladders," Mike murmured; his mouth dry and his cock hot and hard inside his trousers.

"Sure? Better take a closer look," Michele whimpered.

Michele was getting turned on by her outrageous actions on this her final flight. She knew that if she got caught behaving this way BOAC would dismiss her instantly and dock her pay but fuck them! She was being forced to give up her job as an airline hostess; what more could they do to hurt her!

She felt Mike adjust his position in the adjacent seat and then she could feel the whisper of his hot breath on her legs. His lips were only an inch or so from her leg as he inspected her sheer stockings from ankle to thigh. When he lifted the hem of her skirt she didn't stop him and allowed him to expose the welts of her stocking tops. She felt the cool air of the cabin on her bare thighs contrasting with the feather-light touch of Mike's hot breath.

Mike slid his hands along Michele's legs and traced the seams of her stockings to her knees where he stopped briefly and caressed the small wrinkles at the backs of her knees and then he continued on until his hands rasped on the shadow welts and then the darker welts at the top of her stockings. He brazenly slid a finger along a garter strap and tried to slide his hand under Michele's skirt but she shook her head and tensed up and he got the message to stop there.

Michele was panting and she could feel her sex moistening as Mike's caresses aroused her. What she was doing was very naughty but she found this public act of indecency very stimulating.

Mike slid out of his seat and moved behind the woman kneeling before him with her skirt hiked up to the top of her thighs. He continued to stroke her magnificent legs relishing the feel of her slinky nylons in his fingers. He straddled her legs.

Then, in the silence of the airplane cabin, Michele heard the rasp of the man's flies opening. The sound was both ominous and exciting. Then, before she could react, she felt the spongy head of the man's penis begin to rub along her calf. Michele felt a trickle of moisture dribble out of her sex and soak into her pants.

Mike shagged Michele's stocking-clad calf, relishing the feel of her warm skin and the slick nylon on his sensitive penis. Michele felt the hard member running back and forth along her calf; the whispering and rustling sound of flesh against nylon echoing through the cabin.

"Stop! Stop!" Michele whispered.

Disappointedly Mike Harris removed his throbbing cock from the hosties leg and sat down in his seat. Michele pulled down her skirt and turned in the seat and looked around the cabin; her face flushed with embarrassment and arousal. Lady Morecroft had her headset plugged into the armrest audio socket and was humming away as she sipped her gin and tonic and the other man remained fast asleep.

"God you're a tease," Mike hissed trying to stuff his erect penis back into his pants.

"Don't be silly; we were bound to be caught if we stayed in that position; now leave that thing alone and let me deal with it," Michele smiled mischievously.

Mike smiled in response as Michele kicked off her other shoe and lifted her legs up across the armrest dividing the two seats and put her feet into Mike's lap. Mike lifted them up to his face and inhaled the scent of her feet and then began to suck on her toes pushing his tongue between the nylon-clad digits; licking and slathering at first one foot and then the other.

Michele shuddered with pleasure and bit down on her lip to stop herself from making any noise. Mike massaged her legs and tried to put his hands under her skirt but Michele stopped him again when he got to the welts of her stockings. Her skirt was hiked up above her thighs but in the darkened cabin all Mike could see was her creamy bare thighs above the welts of her stockings.

Mike took Michele's feet from his mouth and put them back in his lap and Michele felt his hard cock pulsing against the soles of her feet. She cupped her soles and made a nylon-swathed tunnel which she slid over Mike's pulsing member and began to slowly masturbate him. Mike groaned.

"Shhhh!!!" Michele berated him.

"If you want me to toss you off you'll have to be quiet about it!"

Mike shuddered and swallowed another groan as Michele's silken-hosed feet slid up and down his engorged penis. She used the reinforced toes of her stockings to massage the head of Mike's penis and formed a tunnel with her soles again and gripped his hard cock in her slippery nylons and stroked it up and down, slowly increasing the pace.

The whispering sound of nylon rubbing against flesh grew louder and faster as Michele furiously wanked Mike's cock with her stocking-clad feet. Michele knew that she had been dead lucky not to be discovered so far either by a passenger or another member of the flight crew so she began to work hard at getting this man off.

Mike loved the feeling of the velvety tunnel encasing his cock and bucked up and down in his seat in time with the hosties stroking. He couldn't contain himself much longer and he rammed his hand in his mouth to stifle his moans as he his cock began to pulse and spray ropes of hot white semen.

Michele's eyes widened as she felt the hard cock between her feet suddenly convulse and ejaculate thick strands of hot sticky semen onto her feet. The first spurt flew up in the air and then came down on her calf, darkening her tan nylon as it began to soak in. The next spurt puddled on her ankle; the remaining streams of spunk pooled in her feet as she slid them up and down Mike's shaft.

Michele could feel the semen soaking into her nylons already cooling in the air conditioned cabin; the musky smell of semen wafted through the cabin. Mike experienced one of the most intense orgasms he had every experienced and lay back drained and content; his cock slowly deflating between Michele's delicate feet.

Michele removed her feet from Mike's lap and slid them back into her court shoes; his semen was squishy between her toes and she could feel the puddle of semen cooling on her ankle and the semen that had splashed her calf was already starting to dry on her skin. Mike was stuffing his cock back into his trousers when Michele leaned over and pecked him on the cheek and blushed.

"Hope you liked it; I'm not really that sort of girl," she whispered sheepishly.

Before Mike could respond she straightened her skirt, and quickly checking the coast was clear, she stood up in the aisle and went about her duties as if nothing untoward had happened.

Michele refreshed Lady Morecroft's drink and checked on the other sleeping passenger and then made her way to her jump seat near the servery. She took a bottle of gin and poured herself a drink and sipped it contemplating what she had just done. It was so naughty! God she was so turned on!

She slid a hand under her skirt and pushed her fingers inside her loose nylon knickers and briefly stroked her sex; she shuddered with delight and removed her hand and bought her fingers to her nose and sniffed.

What the hell had got in to her? She never behaved like this! Ever!

Michele tried to think of anything else besides masturbating the passenger with her feet but she couldn't; his semen still soaked her toes and she could smell it faintly every now and again. Then the air-phone rang and she was almost grateful.

The hosties in economy wanted her to give them a hand to serve dinner. She resignedly obliged and went down the staircase and through the lower deck first class section into the economy cabin.

Mike sat their smiling thinking about what a wonderful encounter he just experienced. He wanted to get to know this hostie better. He looked around the small cabin; where was she? Then he saw her disappear down the stairs. Her fragrance still hung in the air around him and he was already becoming aroused again; his cock bulging at the front of his trousers.

Michele returned to the top deck of 747 nearly an hour later. She did a once around the darkened cabin and saw all of her passengers were asleep. She was still randy as hell and walking up and down the aisle of economy with the man's semen squishing in her shoes had surprisingly turned her on even more. She needed relief and she was willing to take a few risks to get it.

Michele tapped Mike on the shoulder and he woke immediately and grinned when he saw who it was.

"Come to the toilet in one minute," she grinned at him and walked away down the aisle.

Michele picked up the air-phone and called down to her co-workers and told them she was going to the toilet; she had an upset tummy and might be a little while she explained.

Michele opened the toilet door and entered the cubicle; it was large by aircraft standards. She lowered the baby change table over the toilet bowl, spun around and scooted her backside up on it. By jamming one foot against the sink and the other against the safety handrail screwed to the opposite wall she was able to sit comfortably on the table with her legs spread wide.

And this was the sight that greeted Mike when let himself into the toilet cubicle and locked the door behind him.

Michele was wedged up on the baby change-table her legs spread wide, her skirt hiked up showing off her stocking-tops and creamy white thighs. Her long sleek legs snaked down to the washbasin and handrail and Mike didn't hesitate; he began to stroke those sheer-hosed appendages with relish. Michele's Channel No 5 perfume filled the air and her beautiful heavily-made-up face beamed at him.

She reached for him and pulled him close; her hot breath panting in his ear.

"We don't have long so lets make this short and sweet," she whispered and reached down and squeezed his cock through his trousers.

Mike responded by kissing Michele and she opened her mouth and accepted his tongue. Mike's hands roamed around her long legs and then he bought them up her body and tried to unbutton her blouse. Michele pushed him off her.

"What part of make this short and sweet don't you get?"

"We don't have time for foreplay; just shag me!" Michele gasped and fumbled with Mike's belt buckle.

Mike helped her out and unzipped his flies and dropped his pants and underwear around his ankles; his cock stuck out before him proud and rampant. Michele reached down and gave it a squeeze and Mike pushed Michele's skirt further up her legs.

"Lift your bum," Mike wheezed, anxious to get his cock into the mature attractive hostess.

Something about fucking here in the khazi both fully clothed turned him on immensely.

Michele lifted her buttocks and Mike rucked her skirt up around her waist and saw her large white nylon full-cut knickers for the first time. The front panel of her knickers was wrinkled around her pubic mound and he could make out her dark pubic hair through transparent nylon. There was large wet-spot spreading across the gusset

Michele blushed.

"Oh my god I forgot I'm wearing my granny knickers," she moaned.

"Oh I love them!" Mike replied and rubbed his cock over the sheer panty material.

Mike lowered his face to the pungent offering before him and licked Michele's sex through her knickers. He parted her outer lips and lapped at her exposed cunt through the transparent fabric. Michele bucked and heaved as Mike slathered her sensitive organ with his tongue, occasionally flicking it across her hooded clitoris and send waves of sheer delight through her body.

When she was close to orgasm she pulled Mike's face out of her crotch and kissed him; tasting her own musky juices on his mouth.

Mike unhooked one Michele's stockings from the glittering garter clip and put his cock against her nylon-sheathed leg and then rolled the welt of the stocking over his cock. He took Michele's hand and placed it over his cock and without further encouragement she stroked him through her stocking and watched his body tremble with sexual desire.

Michele unhooked her feet from their perches and wrapped her legs around Mike's torso.

"Put it in me," she gasped and then pulled his face to hers and began to kiss him passionately

Mike buried his cock in the gusset of Michele's knickers and pushed; his cock slid inside her a few inches encased in her gossamer knickers and then it would go in no further.

Mike slid his cock in and out of Michele's sopping cunt as far as her knickers would allow and Michele scooted forward so that her sex was on the very edge of the seat and Mike could get at her more easily. She moaned in his mouth and wriggled her bum.

Mike was enjoying the feel of his penis wrapped in the diaphanous knicker material inside the hosties hot wet cunt when she broke the kiss and looked him the eyes.

"Stop teasing and put it all the way inside me you bastard!" she giggled and pulled Mikes nylon-encased cock out of her vagina and slid his unencumbered penis inside the loose leg opening of her knickers and placed his glans in the folds of her labia.

Mike pushed forward and his cock slowly slid into Michele's wet velvety tunnel until the whole girth of his manhood was buried inside her to the hilt. Michele lifted Mike's shirt and wrapped her legs around his torso and raked her high-heels down his back.

"Shag me you bastard!" she hissed and smiled up at the young man standing between her legs.

Nineteen year old Sandra Downey, not long out of BOAC's airline hostess training school came to the upper forward cabin to check on Michele Bouvier and see if she was ok. The cabin was very dark and she could not see Michele anywhere and when she went to the hostess station it too was empty.

She frowned and then she saw the 'Engaged' sign on the lavatory lock and she smiled to herself. She put her ear to the door and heard the unmistakeable sound of rutting and she had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh.

"Good on ya Michele; go out with a bang darl!" she whispered, and picked up the air-phone.

"It's all right; she's in loo; all the passengers are fast asleep but I'll stick around until she comes out in case anybody wakes up and wants something," she said and sat down in the jump seat and began to flick through a magazine.

Sandra could hear the muffled sounds of sex coming through the lavatory door and she was a little surprised when she started to become aroused. She slipped a hand under her skirt and inside the waistband of her tights and found that she had a little wet patch in the crotch of her knickers. She gave herself a quick rub and pulled her hand away and straightened her skirt.

Sandra sniffed her fingers and smiled to herself 'Maybe I'll let Steve go all the way when I get back from this trip' she thought to herself. 'I'm nineteen and still a virgin. In this day and age! Shouldn't be allowed!' she smiled to herself again and went back to her magazine.

Inside the lavatory Mike had his cock buried deep inside Michele's sopping cunt and was jackhammering away at her. Michele's legs where locked around his back and she encouraged him to shag her harder by beating her heels against his back and rubbing her stocking-sheathed legs along his flank. She ground her sex against his pubis so that it stimulated her clitoris. She was close to orgasm.

Mike's cock began to pulse as his orgasm approached; he kissed the lovely hostie hard and drove his tongue deep into her mouth and smothered her squeals as she came with him. Her cunt quivered and milked his seed from him as his cock pulsated and ejaculated stream after stream of hot semen deep inside her. Their lips ground together as they both tried to smother each others cries of ecstasy.

Sandra Downey giggled to herself when she heard the sounds of their climax trough the lavatory door. Then she heard muttering from inside the loo and decided to discretely disappear.

Mike emerged first from the lavatory and moved up the dark quiet aisle to take his seat and Michele came out thirty seconds later. A glance around the cabin told her all was well with the other passengers and she took her seat. She pulled her travel bag out of its stowage and spent a few minute fixing her makeup. Her skirt was wrinkled but that could easily be explained away because of the long flight.

Her laddered stockings and soaking wet knickers were another story and she went back into the loo with her travel bag and changed her knickers and stockings.

Mike Harris slept like baby for the rest of the flight and awoke refreshed when the captain made the call that they were thirty minutes out of Singapore. Michele came around the cabin with freshly brewed tea and she gave Mike a conspirator's smile as poured for him.

"So Michele; will we ever meet again?" Mike asked pointing to her name badge; she had put on her jacket ready for the imminent landing.

"We might; you never know," she smiled back and offered her hand.

"Michele Bouvier," she introduced herself.

"Mike Harris," he smiled back.

"A souvenir," she winked at him and dropped a small package into his lap.

When she had gone he opened the package and found her stockings and come-soaked knickers balled up together and tied with a ribbon. They smelled of Channel No 5, vaginal secretions and semen.

Mike made that same trip a couple more times but he never saw Michele Bouvier again. When he asked after her, one of the other hosties explained to him that Michele was no longer working as a flight attendant and was now in charge of BA's Airline Hostess Training School.

Mike smiled regretfully; he had hoped he might meet up with Michele Bouvier again some day but he didn't have the nerve to look her up. He had kept those laddered nylons and come-stained knickers and every now and then he would get them out and smell and feel them while he masturbated; remembering the good old days when hosties wore stockings.

...

Mike was roused from his reverie when he was tapped on the shoulder by a woman in the aisle beside his seat. She had long slender fingers and bright-red painted fingernails and she wore a gold ring set with a large ruby on her wedding-ring finger. He looked up to see an attractive mature woman in a business suit smiling down at him; she had to be in her fifties or sixties but she had beautiful hazel eyes and despite the little wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes, she had retained her beauty and elegance.

"Sorry; I'm in the window seat," she beamed and he was pleasantly surprised to hear an English accent.

Mike was still erect from the daydream he was having; memories of Michele Bouvier being very naughty with him on that flight to Singapore all those years ago.

He reached for his seatbelt and made an effort to stand up but the woman placed her hand back on his shoulder and Mike inhaled Channel No 5.

"Please don't get up; I'm not exactly petite anymore but I'm sure I can squeeze past you," she smiled and turned side-on and began to squeeze between Mike and the back of the seat in front of him.

Her ample, but well shaped buttocks were encased in a navy-blue pencil skirt with a kick-pleat at the rear and Mike's face was only inches from it as she struggled to get to her seat. The kick pleat opened wider as she slid past him and Mike saw a pleasing glimpse of stocking-welt and he could also see the little telltale bump on her thigh were her skirt pulled tight against the garter snap attached to her stocking. He looked down at her well shaped legs and noticed a discrete back-seam running up the back of her sheer black stockings. Mike's cock uncoiled like a snake.

Finally past him and in her seat the woman fumbled around looking for her seat belt.

"Here let me help you," Mike smiled back at her and reached down between her thigh and the armrest and extracted the seatbelt.

His fingers accidentally glanced along her leg and he felt the heat of her body through her skirt. He absentmindedly began to lightly brush her leg through her skirt; his eyes where fixed on her legs; her skirt had ridden up halfway up her thighs and her dark sheer stockings glistened in the light of the cabin; he could make out the little wrinkles at her knees.

"Oh sorry! I was a little lost there, please excuse me?" Mike said apologetically removing his hand.

She continued to smile at him.

"Where are you going to?" she asked politely.

"Heathrow via Newark, with a one day stopover in New York," he smiled back.

"What a coincidence. Snap! So am I!" she laughed, her voice throaty and exotic.

The lady offered her slim, well-manicured hand.

"Michele Bouvier," she said; her beaming smile lighting up her attractive mature face.

Mike broke into a grin and then laughed; the woman looked quizzically at him.

"Have we met before?" she searched his eyes trying to place where she might know this man from.

"Oh yes we have met before, a long time ago. In fact I have some things of yours that I would like to discuss with you," Mike grinned at Michele and placed a hand reassuringly on her upper arm.

"This sounds like its going to be fascinating flight; tell me all about it," unconsciously her hand slid down and she squeezed his knee. Mike's cock sprang to full attention.

Disclaimer: The British often still refer to panties as knickers and they certainly did in the seventies — I like the word knickers — very British! I do not know if BOAC actually had a Heathrow to Singapore non-stop service in the 70s or if their 747s were configured like the one I described in this story. I do know that Continental Airlines had the most, dreary, sexless, unflattering, flight attendant uniforms in the free world. Oh ... and Larry Kellner was a cock!

The End

Please provide feedback, positive or otherwise. I write so you can enjoy my stories and tell me what you think.

xxx

Michele