”When the intercom light went off he added, “General Aviation is really the area where private planes are organised, land and take off.”Then Jen...ifer realised that there was an executive jet aircraft waiting for them. “Is that just for us?” she asked.“Yes,” David answered with a hint of annoyance in his voice, “It can take eight passengers in considerable comfort. That part is for me and so is the stewardess. You go in the back with the rest of the luggage.”Again she had to look to realise that. I had caused this to happen. I was in control. The proof of my success, similar to a rainbow after a storm, is the wondrous sight of a man's cum spurting from his penis. Some women don't like it. Some are turned off by the taste, smell, and texture. Some don't like to see it or feel their lovers come in their mouths. They feel controlled. Not me. I am in control. I can decide when he is to have an orgasm. When a man's penis is in my hands, or in my mouth, I can determine the exact. I watched all this happen in quiet disbelief, a dizzy sensation in my head terrible fear in my heart. I was aware of a man at the counter, talking to the waiter. Conversation rose and fell, I heard one or two laughs, the clatter of a tea-spoon in a saucer.I fumbled with things in my handbag, smoked a cigarette, re-touched my lipstick, pretended to write things in my little diary; sipped my soon cold coffee. I felt a dreadful urge to confess everything, and a yet stronger urge to run and run. “I want to taste your cunt!” is all I say when I vigorously start to lick your pussy, moist with champagne. Your breathing gets heavier as your pussy becomes increasingly moist from my tongue’s touch. Giving you a moment of respite, my tongue travels up your leg, enjoying the remaining taste of the champagne. Starting at the back of your knee it makes its way along your inner thigh and across your lips and through your ass crack. My right thumb starts stroking your clit while my left index.