Hijab fun at 35k

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The erotic 'Hijab', encounter

Waiting in the airport boarding area, where the cattle shuffle on to the plane and stragglers are herded up, I looked around at everyone.
There isn't much else to do really, is there? Interminable repetition. Whatever time, whatever country, its always the same.
(I wonder if macdonald's got their franchise idea after months of sitting in airports?)
Just across from me, there was girl looking at me.

I don't me glancing, I mean REALLY looking. The kind of looking I'm sure women get all the time, but when us fellas get (well, me anyway)– we know it as 'proper looking'. THAT kind of looking.
She had beautiful eyes, and I could only imagine what she looked like without as many clothes on.
Literally, I could only imagine - I had to imagine, - she was wearing a hijab.
She had beautiful eyes though...
Her husband, or whatever, said something to her, and she stopped looking, and the moment had gone.
Soon after, the faithful friesians got in line, and off we went to 35,000 ft
.......................
later on....
It was late, and the lights were dimmed right down, as they do on late night flights.
It was that noisy quiet, you experience on crowded planes.
I didn't mind, I was few a whiskey's happy, and would soon be not dozing. (that's what I call the failing attempt to sleep on a plane - knowing full well your eyes are shut, and nothing else is going to happen – not dozing).
I generally see people asleep on planes, and wish them all the curses on the planet for being able to drift off, peacefully. Bastards. Not for me, oh no. ...
How do you sleep on a plane ? (unless you are suffering severe sleep deprivation -https://steemit.com/blog/@patriotwargamer/la-times-part-3 )
Trying my best to give a fuck about what was playing on my little screen in front, and failing at that miserably, to -I turned that off .
Read! - always on option. My whiskey eyes couldn't cope with too well, to be honest, so that went back in the seat.
Not dozing it was then , interspersed with a sip of scotch.
My 'hijab girl ' was seated about 6 seats ahead of me in the middle isle, on the edge seat to the aisle, adjoining mine.
She had turned around a couple of times, to look at me ( I knew it! she WAS looking at me earlier)
And she gave me an EYEFUL went she went to bathroom.(she couldn't give me much else, could she? )

I had a sneaky suspicion 'Mr hijab' was 'aware' of something, but didn't know what.
My whisky logic thought so anyway, and it always confirms to itself, to be true. The beauty of alcohol.
I stopped my day dreaming about how she would look under the hijab, a couple of whiskeys ago, and now was out of my mind completely.
I needed to pee. (no-there is no looming LA disaster ...https://steemit.com/blog/@patriotwargamer/la-times-part-3)
Looking forward to the delight of toilet use on a plane, I got up and wandered down to the nearest cubicle.
Hijab girl looked around at me getting out of my chair, and she also needed to go to the restroom – apparently.
Now my thoughts were well truly back on miss hijab (I didn't want to call her mrs hijab - that would be disrespectful to mr hijab)
Like I said, it was quiet, and most people were dozing.
There was someone in the toilet when I got there, (when isn't there?) so I waited.
I didn't turn around, but was aware of miss hijab behind me. Everything is close on a plane, and she was also very close. Feeling the vague pressure of her breasts against my back, close.
Never underestimate the power of male fantasy spinning, and mine was weaving some body right behind me, I can tell you. I never turned around.
Leaving the cubicle far too soon., the occupant left.
My turn, I moved forward stepping into the space, - I was fully expecting her to follow me in...

Yeah, she didn't.
So, finishing my pee (I wasn't sure to be quick or to take my time. I decided on slow, for three reasons)

1. Build the tension.
2. There was bugger all else to do on a plane.
3. She might think I didn't wash my hands.

I opened the door and she was very close, and LOOKING again. She never said a word to me, but stepped into the cubicle as I was leaving. Toilet doors on planes are small.
Bodies press pretty close in this space, without much effort. But she was putting in some serious effort.
Gently rubbing her body against mine, we were there for maybe, 10 or 15 seconds.- Which is a long time in a quiet plane...And not something not to be mistaken for as 'accidental'.

She slipped into the toilet, leaving me to walk back to my seat, with an erection that was in danger of bursting the fuselage, and causing decompression issues.
As she returned to her seat, a few minutes later, she made sure her body brushed – no, not brushed, pressed - against my shoulder.
Sitting down, she looked at me again (I bet she was smiling), and sat down.

Either Mr. hijab was sound asleep, or knew she had a severe cystitis problem, for he never stirred, as 30/40 minutes later, she was out of her seat gain, pushing hard against me, and off to the toilets again.
Never one to be rude to a lady, when she is asking for something, I felt it impolite not to follow her.
Only this time I was behind her (there was a god -or an allah, or something!) – somebody had just gone into the toilet before her.
If they had constipation, I'd swear there was a buddha to.

So standing there, just the two of us, she moved backwards. I wasn't going anywhere.
And she pushed against me. She had no doubt as to my feelings, as she pushed back – she started moving against me – ever so slowly, pushing back against my very obvious erection.. This was fun, erotic, but very frustrating.

She went into the cubicle, (masturbating wildly, I would assume), and then we did the heavy pushing against each other, thing, as she left, (never any hands).
I wasn't there for a pee. (and would have been biologically incapable anyway).

I could never wank in airplane toilets to an hijab, no matter how beautiful her eyes were. (and gyrations) .
(don't get me wrong, I gave it a go, but the time pressure's, ya know? It just wasn't happening.)

And so this little game carried on most of the night – at least another 3 times I think. (whiskey blur)

And that was it – daylight, people rousing, life in a tube once again.
And the end of my erotic adventures with 'miss hijab.'
I can honestly say that was a first, and has never been repeated.
She didn't even look at me again, after the flight landed .
She was only after one thing.

What a bitch..I felt utterly used......;)