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A Family Affair: 7th Heaven
The Mile High Club imposed itself from the title. The rest flowed from it. This is the second shortest after ‘1st Installment’. I really like the format now that I’ve tamed it somewhat.
Thank you Valphund for catching my typos and punctuation shortcomings. I’m learning, thanks to you.
My best childhood memories are those of the summers I spent at my grandmother’s home in Gaspésie, the Quebec peninsula which juts out in the Atlantic.
I used to sit atop the mountain behind her house and look out to sea, dreaming of faraway shores across the ocean, or using binoculars to watch the hustle and bustle on the quay when the fishermen came in to unload the early morning’s catch before going back out for the dusk run.
All of her twelve children had run from the remote region for Quebec City or Montreal as soon as they could. The only one left was my aunt Mariana. She was only five years older than me. I suppose this explained that, but she never complained. She genuinely liked the mellow lifestyle, or so I thought.
Looking back, I’m not so sure.
The year I turned ten, I was allowed to go out on the boat with my granddad. Of course it meant getting up at 1:00am, leaving anchorage at 2:00 and sailing for two hours to get to the feeding grounds for the dawn runs.
I didn’t mind so much. After a few days, I could sleep in one of the bunks, despite the engine’s noise and vibrations.
Mariana only came occasionally. That was the summer she began to hang out with friends who didn’t appreciate having a kid underfoot. I think it had something to do with boobs.
The year before, she had gotten her first training bra. She was very proud and never missed an occasion to change in front of me to show off her budding breasts. I didn’t get it. I mean, really, they were little more than bumps on her chest. It’s not like she had these big melons like Aunt Louise. Talk about being top heavy.
That year, boys came sniffing. She was always a tomboy. She kept wearing the same clothes, only… differently. A camisole on a flat-chested kid is something. On a burgeoning teen, it’s something else. Even I could see it. I noticed that her jeans had shrunk too. When I mentioned it, she laughed. She had that infectious laugh that made you want to laugh with her. I never got an answer, but I didn’t mind so much. I was in on the joke, whatever it was.
She still took me to the municipal swimming pool on occasion. My mother had bought this sexy Speedo for me. It was just like the one the swimmers at the Olympics wore. I was really proud of it… until I saw her two-piece bathing suit. She called it a bikini. I called it a waste of good money. The bottom was hardly more than a small napkin held by two strings on the sides and the top was a two inch wide strip of stretchy material. More often than not, she didn’t even tie the thin strap behind her neck.
She would jump in with me for a couple of minutes, then either walk around or stretch on a blanket to work on her tan. She was never alone. Her friends, wearing as little as she did, tanned with her and they talked with the boys who hung around, strutting (there’s no other word for it) for them. They must have had deep conversations, because they talked very close and had this intent look on their faces.
The next summer, she wasn’t there anymore. Granny said she had moved in with one of her sisters in Quebec City to go to cégep and found a summer job there.
That was the last year I spent the whole summer in Gaspésie. Somehow, it wasn’t as much fun anymore. I went to summer camp instead.
Two years later, she came to Montreal to attend the University. She moved in with us for the summer, waiting for the rooms at the dorm to be available.
At first, I was weary of who she had become. She looked so sophisticated. She had lost what my mother called her baby fat and become a lean beautiful young woman. I was happy to find that I had worried for nothing. She was the same fun loving aunt who would include me in her expeditions to discover the city. I was proud to be able to show her everything I knew.
When we swam in a friend’s pool, her bikini had grown a little more material. By that time, I knew enough to appreciate her gorgeous body. She still had small breasts, but she had learned how to display them to her best advantage while mine were little more than bigger nipples with the hope of a womanly chest behind them.
She had begun to run while in College. Her long legs were firm and their muscles well-defined. So was her tight bottom.
Her hair had grown a lot since the last time I’d seen her. It changed her look for the better. She had all these different kinds of braids she used when she ran, but I preferred it loose, draped over her shoulders and back. It accented her long delicate neck izmir escort bayan pleasantly.
Where her pale grey eyes used to look weird, they now stood out as one of her finest features. She showed me how to pluck my eyebrows like hers, but said I should keep them thicker because it suited me better. I loved her thin nose, her high cheekbones. She complained about her thin lips, but I found her smile as engaging as ever.
We spent a lot of time in and around the pool that summer. She even convinced my mother to let me buy a bikini like hers so I could get a better tan. I did feel more grown-up wearing it.
One more thing, during her time in Quebec City, she had become a hugger. At first, it was a little embarrassing, then I got used to it. It made me feel all tingly inside sometimes. By the end of summer, I was one too.
She spent every summer with us. We became even closer than we had been at her mother’s place. We had many of those deep conversations which had so intrigued me back then. We talked about all those essential things I would never have dared talk to my mother about. You know… Sex, boys, fashion, sex, girls, lingerie. Oh, and we also talked about sex.
She told me about some of her adventures and encouraged me to experiment. Surprisingly, she also gave me numerous lectures about safe sex and how to avoid finding myself in situations where choices would be taken out of my control. Having worked in a bar for years, she shared horror stories to scare me. It worked.
Three years later, she moved to Toronto to take a job as a flight attendant for Air Canada, and I went to College. Two years later, I’m still a virgin. The only eighteen year old virgin in the city, I’m sure.
Oh, I learned to lie with the best of them, but sometimes I wonder…
Another thing I learned. I’m a lesbian.
I did try to go the straight route, but after having been groped, nearly assaulted and raped by ‘friends’ at a party, after suffering crude and obscene attempts at seduction (you wouldn’t believe the number of pictures of penises I received on my cell or in emails), I came out as a lesbian, figuring these jerks would leave me alone. Ha! It got worse. They were all certain they could turn me into a ‘true’ woman if I’d only try it with a ‘real’ man. I stopped laughing in their faces when I saw that it made them angry. I just ignored them.
As of midnight last night, I’m eighteen. I’ve been looking forward to my birthday present for six months. Mariana is using one of the free flights she’s allowed as an employee and is taking me to Paris where we’ll spend three days discovering the City of Lights. She swears it’s the best for food and clothes. The chefs from around the world come there to learn and all the Haute Couture designers have their shops in Paris.
So I’m waiting near the employee’s entrance. I hope she gets here soon. Security is starting to look at me closely. It’s my fault. I was in such a hurry that I took an early bus.
I feel proud to be there, despite my nervousness. I’m wearing my best dark grey slacks, deep blue blouse to bring out my eyes, and black leather jacket, a present from my parents, as are the four inch heel black ankle booths. I hardly ever wear make-up. It only makes my baby face look ridiculous. The au-naturel minimum accents work best for me, to bring out my cobalt blue eyes and full lips.
I know some of my teammates on the College volleyball team like to wear sexy clothes, but I’m a bit self-conscious about my body. It’s enough that I wear high shorts in front of the crowds at games. I’d rather hide my muscles in public. It’s not like I have an hourglass figure and big breasts. I got my father’s athletic body and passed on my mother’s assets. At least I inherited her brains.
Finally, she’s here. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. The selfies she sent occasionally didn’t do her justice. She’s also still a hugger, but now I can enjoy it. She just doesn’t know how much or the effect her kiss has on me. I barely restrain myself and only touch her succulent lips with the tip of my tongue.
You see, not only am I a hugger too, I’m also a kisser. I may be technically a virgin, but I’m a frequent visitor of second base. I just never made it to third, let alone home plate.
Still holding my shoulders, she looks me up and down. “This won’t do.” She tut-tuts. She undoes two more buttons and pushes my breasts together in as much of a cleavage as possible. “We’ll have to get you a decent bra at one of the boutiques.”
Doesn’t she realize what she’s doing to me?
As she explains how she’ll get me on the aircraft with the crew and get me a seat near the service compartment, my eyes are fixed on her lips. So close, yet so far. Her hands got me wet, her mouth completes the work. I’ll have to find a bathroom before we board the plane.
After izmir escort a last hug which I prolong as long as decently possible, she takes my hand and pulls me to where her colleagues are waiting for us. She introduces me as her young niece on her first trip overseas as an adult. They all wish me a happy birthday and a good flight.
She doesn’t let go of my hand while they talk shop. I’m glad for the dark pants. I wonder if I can use the bathroom aboard before we take off.
I go through security with them. I really appreciate the convenience when I see the long lines in the public area. We meet the flight officers outside the plane and board together. I’m seated and offered a soft drink while they go through the pre-flight checks to make sure everything is there and ready. They chat amiably as they work. Mariana told me this crew has been together for months and are close friends.
They’re all so nice to me, treating me like a little sister. I don’t dare ask to use the bathroom once they show me it’s in their working area. The public toilet at the other end of the plane has to be kept pristine for the paying passengers.
Mariana touches me every time she walks by… A squeeze on the shoulder, a gentle caress on the hair. When she talks to me, she leans over close. Damn. I’m a mess. I don’t need to think of the picture I keep on my phone of her in a skimpy bikini, playfully striking a provocative pose. I have the real thing at hand. I wish I could reach out and… touch her, at least, but I don’t trust myself to be able to stop there.
She only has time to sit with me for a couple of minutes before boarding. Does she realize our thighs are touching? I try to be discreet as I take deep breaths of her subtle floral fragrance, wishing my nose was elsewhere and I was inhaling a different scent.
She squeezes my knee as she gets up for the rush. I giggle with them as the crew comically pantomime the safety instructions out of view from the passengers. They are really enjoying their work.
Mariana sits beside me for take-off. She holds my hand reassuringly. I don’t tell her that I’m not shivering out of fear.
After the first drinks service and the distribution of blankets and pillows, she comes back to my seat. She takes my hand again. Does she even realize she’s caressing it with her thumb as we talk of our plans for her three day layover in France?
One of the other attendants, a stunning tall Eurasian woman, stops and leans close to us. She has a gentle smile as she looks at me. She tells my aunt we have a half-hour before they open the top deck to passengers. I don’t understand what she’s talking about, but I follow Mariana to an enclosed spiral staircase situated between business and first-class. She unclips the velvet rope and holds me close as she clips it behind us.
I can’t help it. I lean my head against her shoulder. I nearly faint when she puts a hand on my ass and pushes me up the stairs. She keeps it on my hip as we ascend.
I should wonder what’s happening, but all the blood rushed from my head to the area where her hand is… the whole area.
As soon as we’re up in the first-class lounge, I turn to her. Before I can utter a word, her lips meet mine. When I moan, she pulls back only enough so she can speak.
“Shhh, baby, you have to be quiet. We all use this place for this short window, but you have to remember that there are passengers below with no door between us and them. The crew has offered it to us because they know how long I’ve been waiting for you to turn eighteen so I could tell you how much I… want you. I’ve wanted you since I came to live with your family, but you were too young.”
I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone. She chuckles when I show her the pictures I’ve been masturbating to for years.
“If you remember, I also took some of you that day. I had a friend Photoshop your bathing suit out. I’ve been fantasizing about this day forever too.”
While we’re talking, she unbuttons my blouse. She coos when my small breasts are revealed.
“You have no idea how hard it was for me to let go earlier when I realized you weren’t wearing a bra. We can’t get completely naked, but enough to make love. Remember to be quiet.”
“I will. Mar, I’m… I’m a virgin.”
“You’ll be able to boast all your life that you lost your cherry and became a member of the Mile High Cub all at once.”
I can scarcely believe it. The girl I grew up with, the teen I watched become an adult, the woman I’ve fantasized about for years. The love of my life is kissing me, caressing my breasts tenderly.
Before I can reach to unbutton her uniform shirt, she guides me to a couch and sits beside me, gazing at me. Why are her eyes misty? I reach for her, but she takes my hands and kisses the fingertips, then licks my palms. I swear I feel the touch of her escort izmir tongue on my clit.
She leans in to resume our kiss. I welcome her tongue eagerly. I push against the hand on my breast. I hold her, crushing it between our chests. She chuckles as she pulls back so she can caress me. I whine when her lips leave mine, but I groan quietly as she kisses my neck. I tilt my head to offer more of the sensitive skin. I’ve died and gone to heaven.
By the time she kisses, licks, nips her way to my breasts, she has me on the edge and she knows it. Her hand kneads my thighs, but doesn’t come too close to my soaked pussy, despite my whispered pleas. Without raising her mouth from its task, she undoes my slacks. My hips are off the couch from the first touch at my waist and I help her pull them down to my ankles. I spread my knees wide, offering myself to her, hips straining forward. She continues with her teasing until I’m going out of my mind with want.
I’m barely aware when she has me sit and pulls my ass so my pussy hangs off the edge. She traces a path of fiery delight from my mouth, to my breasts, leaves little bite marks on my belly, tongue-fucks my navel, licks the hollows of my groin, spreads my thighs wider still and admires my overflowing pussy before lovingly kissing my lips.
Slowly, expertly, she brings me to seventh heaven. As I stand there, holding her hand, she pushes her fingers at the gate. Gently she crosses the threshold. Whatever barrier had been there was long ripped to shreds by years of sports. Still, my eyes are tear-filled by this caring gesture.
“Take me, Mar. Make me a woman. I’ve waited for this moment long enough.”
Tears are streaming down her face as she takes my straining clit between her lips and proceeds to do just that. Despite the cushion I stuffed in my mouth, I’m sure everyone in the cabin can hear me, but I don’t care. In fact, I want them to know. I want the whole world to know that I’m giving myself body and soul to the woman I love.
I have no idea how she did it. I climaxed the moment I felt her fingers touch my vagina walls as she feathered my clit with her tongue. How is it then that I am still in the middle of an incredible orgasm when the lounge lights flash? I think I’m having a seizure.
She brings me down gently, then sits beside me to share my essence in a deep kiss.
I’m shaking from head to toe as I watch her go to the bar and soak a couple of towels. She wipes her mouth, neck and perfect breasts on her way back to me. When did she take off her shirt? She cleans me gently, sending shivers coursing through me again as she delicately wipes my over-sensitized pussy, then again as she towels it dry.
We stand on wobbly legs to pull our clothes together. I tie her tie, eyes locked with hers. When she goes to speak, I put a finger on her lips.
“I know you have a life of your own and that I don’t fit in it, but I have to tell you something. I love you, Mariana. I’ve loved you for years. I saved myself hoping you would be the one to make me a woman. You have, and I can’t thank you enough. You can go back to your many lovers all over the world. I’m sure I’ll love someone else at some point, though I will never forget you or this moment for the rest of my life.”
She’s crying again as she holds me fiercely. I caress her hair and kiss her cheek, waiting for her to get a hold of herself. What’s going on? I should be the one crying.
“Sweet dear Candy (I hate that nickname. She’s the only one I ever tolerated saying it because it sounds so sexy on her lips.), I don’t have lovers all over the planet. Amane, the tall Eurasian, she’s the only one, and only because she got tired of hearing me cry myself to sleep when we shared a hotel room. I’ve been waiting for you. I love you too. I realized it the moment I moved in with your family. I discovered I was a lesbian in College because men simply didn’t do it for me. I thought I was weird because I always felt something missing with women. The first time I hugged you, I almost had an orgasm on the spot. I tried to get over you those three years. That’s when I had lovers galore. Nothing worked. I moved away thinking that if I was far enough, I’d get past what I thought was an infatuation. I didn’t. It only got worse. I love you. I think I may have always loved you.”
“That’s nice and all that, sweeties, but we’re going to have to open the lounge soon.” Amane says from the stairs. “Does this mean I’ll be able to get some sleep at last?” She winks at me before leaving.
We chuckle and kiss deeply, though we have to cut it short.
I sit, relaxed. I watch the crew go about their duties. I smile at Mariana and Amane as they walk toward me and watch their asses as they walk away. I can’t wait to have one and allow myself a fantasy about the other.
I’m sipping a glass of champagne I shouldn’t have in economy class when Mariana drops her phone on my lap. I laugh at the picture on the screen. We’re hugging closely. There’s not a stitch of clothing on either of us.
I hope they have room service at the hotel.
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