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I thought of you all the time when I was on the plane. I even brought your favorite book, Borges’ Fictions, with me, so that we’d have yet another topic to talk about after a long night of decent, well deserved sex. But we still had to lift off, you know, and there was something wrong with the air conditioning system. Something was broken, I don’t know what exactly, and this creepy old man next to me kept telling me stories of plane crashes caused by small errors such as that one. Oh, no, he called them symptoms! Planes, my dear, now seem to have symptoms as well. I tried not to pay him much attention after that. I’m not an enabler. He asked me if I wanted a couple of peppermints. I declined (mom taught me well how to defend myself against the Dark Arts). Then he asked me if I had flight fright. He was shaking. I told him that everything would be fine, and that we wouldn’t crash because of the air conditioning system, but I quickly walked my way to the toilet. The flight attendant told me we should be good to go in a couple of minutes. I told him not to worry. I shut the door, then, and peed. I didn’t really want to pee, but I felt I had to do something coherent just in order to be there. I was a little bit nervous, but it wasn’t flight fright. It was you. Right there, I remembered that day when we went to the park and I was eating a hot dog. You made me look at you right when I was going for my first bite. I made eye contact right when a disturbingly big wiener was next to my mouth. I was so mad at you for making me do that. I was embarrassed as fuck. Do you remembered the way I pulled the tablecloth and showed you - and no one else - my cock getting hard right there, in the middle of the park? So, I was getting distracted by that memory when the attendant knocked on the door and asked me to go back to my seat. Did I tell you that my cock was already slightly touching my chin? True story. I said OK, I’ll be there in a minute!, but I was desperate. What should I do? You know how difficult it is, for me, to recompose myself without, you know, cumming. Man, I tried everything, but the best I could do was to get it right between my boobs, so I did what I always do in such circumstances: I buttoned my coat tightly, crossed my arms, and walked. I went back to my seat, but no one seemed to notice. The old man was fast asleep by then, holding a pill bottle on his left hand. Behind me, two women were watching movies. In front of me, a random guy and an empty seat. I felt it reaching my neck again. I raised my coat and licked some of the precum. Geez, I just wanted to clean it, but I just love the taste of precum. Having a tiny bit of privacy, but still being in a public space is a nightmare. I went for some more. I put the tip of the head inside my mouth, and I just knew I wouldn’t resist it much longer. Right there, I’d be able to hide it from anyone, except the man next to me. You’re inside an airplane, Epona, think straight! But the only thing I could think about was you, and your soft lips, sucking my cock nice and slow, just waiting for me to fill your mouth with my warm, sweet milk. Should you do it? Did I do it?


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Hello there! Quaraci here.

This is July's extra painting. It should be posted in a couple of days. Thank you so much for your love and support!

Q.

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Comments

Someguy987

Yes to both please.

Clive Braddock

This was the post I saw that made me a fan of your art, I love the stories you write with them, makes it so much hotter!

quaraci

Aw, thanks! I'm flattered. It's not the first time that I hear that this image pushed the right buttons, though, which makes me think it might be due to all the storytelling that's going on, both in image and text... I'm glad you like the stories as well! It's a pity I don't post them alongside the paintings that regularly. Maybe I should reconsider the image+text format after all... =^____^= Cheers, Clive!