Tales From the Titty Woman 2
I am on a plane to London and news has just broken that the Queen has died. Everyone on the plane is sad. And I see you sitting there. You have a smile on your face and I realize you have headphones on and are probably listening to some god awful music. Why is it that the most handsome dudes have the most awful taste in music? Me. I like to listen to fingernails on a chalkboard. I am kidding. I like to listen to my lover groaning and moaning and telling me how he is going to fuck me harder and harder and harder.
I look at the old dude next to me. I see tears rolling down his cheek. I see that he is really upset. I ask, “So were you and the Queen secretly lovers?”
He turns and looks at me. I can see that I have shocked him. “She was like my mum. She was like the mum to all of Great Britain.”
“Wow. Incest is such a turn off. That must have made it hard for her to get laid. No wonder she died.”
“She was 96 years old and she was widowed. She had been married to Prince Phillip for 73 years until he died in 2021. It was a lovely marriage and I hardly think that either one of them ever had sex outside of their marriage. They met when she was 13 and he was 18 and they became pen pals. She was 21 when they married and he was 26. You know, some people don’t believe in having sex outside of marriage.”
“My first husband was that way. When I discovered he was a bigamist it really pissed me off.”
“Was he a Mormon?”
“I don’t know. I never went to church with him. I did have to bail him out of jail a few times. He was mostly a practicing criminal. He never got very good at it.”
The old man smiles. “So are you currently married?”
“No.” I point to you. You are so fucking cute with that goofy smile on your face. I wonder if you are looking at porn. “Tonight, when I have a vibrator in my pussy, I might imagine that he is my husband.”
“I’ve been on the plane a few times with him. Once we sat next to each other and we had a conversation about how much he hates Prince Harry.”
“Why does he hate Prince Harry?”
“Oh, some gibberish about how Prince Harry betrayed the Aryan race. That man you want to imagine while you masturbate is a hateful man.”
I can’t believe that about you. Is the old man right and you are a hateful man?
“So you are saying the man,” we are talking about you, “is antisemitic?”
“No. He is jewish. He just doesn’t believe in race mixing.”
“Race mixing. Jewish people are all sorts of races.”
“Oh my God. Stewardess. Stewardess. Please attain for me another seat away from this awful woman. She is worse than a holocaust denier. She doesn’t believe the holocaust was genocide.”
I stare at the old man. I think he is crazy. The stewardess runs up and quickly starts looking for an empty seat. You are looking at me and I point to you. “I think he will be willing to change seats with the old man.”
As the stewardess leads the old man to swap seats with you, and you stand up, I see the outline of your cock in your pants. I can see that you are hung like a 12 inch ruler, a king with a large cock. The old man looks back at me with a grin. He winks at me. As you walk by the old man, very quickly, he moves his hand to rub the outline of your cock. You smile and pat him on the back. I wonder if you and the old man have ever had sex.
You sit down next to me. Oh my god. You are so good looking.
You speak to me. You say, “I must tell you that I am jewish.”
Some weird shit pops into my head and then out of mouth. I say, “Will you mind if I dress up like a Nazi before we fuck.”
“I won’t mind. You can even spank me if you want.”
“Oh, I will so want to spank your naked butt. You better believe that pretty butt of yours will be spanked but good.”
“And then you will kiss the pain away and your tongue will work toward my cock. My hard, throbbing cock will ease into your mouth.”
The stewardess walks up to us. “Please. You two shut up. You are making the priest in the front row horny and I have told him a million times that I will not have sex with a Priest.”
So then we sit silent. We sneak glances at one another and I imagine you naked and in my arms whispering sweet nothings to me. Your tongue flicks against my earlobe while your hand squeezes my right tit. I always hate it when a man squeezes my wrong tit.
Then the flight ends and we get our luggage and we get in the same taxi. I cancel my hotel room and we go to yours. We don’t do actual costume play with the nazi costume or such but just go right to getting naked and having sex. It is good sex but nothing to write home to mom about.
And oh yeah, I couldn’t believe it when later you introduced me to Prince Harry or as you called him, “Henry Charles Albert David.”
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