The phone rang just as we started kissing, just as my hand was stroking her naked thigh, teasing her before fingering her.

She answered it.

Which with some women might be considered an insult, but she just likes talking on the phone while she's being fingered, eaten, or fucked. Especially when it turns out the person on the other end is the male flight attendant she's been making out with on an irregular basis.

"Hi sexy!" she says brightly into the phone, winking at me and sticking out her tongue.

I stick mine out back at her and we lean in to each other until the tips of our tongues were touching each other in midair.

As she talks to him she starts playing with her nipples and what little pubic hair she has left unshaved. My hand joins hers between her legs, pressing her hand into her cunt, making her gasp into the phone.

"I'm just so happy to hear from you honey" she answers in response to the obvious question. "Yes I am playing with myself. In my hotel bed. Where are you?"

"At your sister's house for dinner? My you are a naughty boy."

I shake my head in amazement and constant wonder and fingered her harder and faster so that she gasps even louder, tried to pull my wrist from between her legs, but I did not let her.

"Yes," she hisses, "I can wait. But hurry."

I decide to play along and slow down, waiting for the next act of our little play to commence.

"You're in the bathroom? At your sister's? With your cock out? Are you remembering the waiting room, me kneeling in front of you?"

I remember. I remember her telling me about it, about her breasts pressing against him through her blouse and his pants as she gazed into his eyes and rubbed up and down, up and down, the pressure of her breasts, the sight of her, the knowledge of her, the very presence of her exciting him beyond imagination until he comes in his pants, gasping and moaning with frustration and delight.

This time he has more control, or as much control as anyone ever has with her, which seems like very little and is in reality even less.

"Stroke it baby," she moans into the phone, "stroke your big cock for me. Think about me sucking you. Think about fucking me. Think about fucking me in the waiting room. Think about fucking me on the airplane. Next time we're on an airplane together we're going into the bathroom and you're going to fuck me good. Yes that's it you bad boy, sneaking into bathrooms to fuck your married slut. Come for me baby. Come hard."

There is no waiting now, no slowing down, no playing along, I lie on my stomach with my head between her legs lashing her clit with my tongue as hard and fast as I can, her litany of crazed lust ringing in my ears as I lick her, my cock painfully hard beneath me.

She is quivering, she is tensing, she is moaning into the phone, she is coming and coming hard. For a moment she just lies there then whispers "Thank you too sweety, you get back to your family now" and hangs up.

I rise up. I crawl forward. I bend down and kiss her. I enter her and her legs rise up to wrap around my back.

"My married slut," I remind her as I fuck her, "my married slut" I repeat with every stroke, the pleasure confusing me, garbling me, but still I repeat "my married slut" as I come inside her and she comes again with me.