Settling into her first-class seat, Cara watched passengers boarding for a few minutes, impatient to get off the ground. She looked over to the man in the window seat next to her, smiling while Travis shifted around, even the extra roominess in first-class affording him precious little additional space to unfold his long legs.
Travis smiled at her, unwinding his headphones.
“What did you bring to listen to?”
Travis took one ear-bud out, nestling into his wife’s ear. Cara listened for a few moments, her nose wrinkling, and handed the ear-bud back to Travis.
“All-righty, then. Wake me when we land.”
The flight to Vienna passed, Cara sleeping away most of the hours while Travis listened to a series of math and physics lectures. Waiting in baggage claim, Travis pulled out one of his ever-present small notebooks from an inner pocket in his favorite worn leather jacket, deep in thought while he scribbled a series of formulas across several pages, stopping only when he glanced towards the luggage carousel to scan for their bags and caught his wife’s scowl in his peripheral vision.
“I’m done, I promise.” Travis gave Cara a quick kiss while he tucked the notebook away.
Once the couple collected their luggage, Cara headed towards the metro to catch the next train passing close to their hotel, but Travis reached for her, turning her face in the direction of a limousine service instead.
Travis set their bags down, pulling another small notebook from his pocket, this one encased in a worn, red-leather cover.
Cara laughed. “Ah, our own personal ‘bucket list.’”
Travis smiled at her again. “Remember when we started this?”
Cara held out her hand, thumbing through the pages. “Our honeymoon. You thought the most appropriate list of experiences for the two of us to complete in our lifetimes was a list of sexual ones. I thought you’d tossed this when you started STAR Ops.”
“Nope. Check out one of your last entries – page 53, dated June twelfth, five years ago today.”
Cara flipped to the page. “Full carnal knowledge, moving vehicle, high probability of someone watching or listening,” she read out loud, blushing a bit.
“Too much champagne that night,” Cara said, laughing, handing the notebook back to Travis. “Besides, that ‘high probability’ bit you added – I don’t write math-speak, darlin’, and I’d recognize your handwriting anywhere.” Unlike Cara’s scrawl, Travis wrote with computer-like precision; his handwriting, for as long as Cara remembered, looked like something typed out on a miniature keyboard.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Travis murmured, picking up their suitcases again. “You aren’t getting off the hook that easy.” He raised one eyebrow in Cara’s direction and nodded to the limo driver standing with the passenger door open. “Get in.”
Cara slid into one seat, her back to the electric window separating them from the driver, Travis taking the seat across from her after he finished giving the driver directions. Cara saw a slight smile crossing the driver’s face and she blushed again, smoothing her skirt over her knees.
Travis leaned over and raised the privacy window, leaving about a three-quarter inch gap; then he reached to open the sunroof and drop the passenger windows down half-way. “Traffic on our route moves slow – someone besides just the driver is likely to hear or see something.” He grinned at his wife.
“You’re serious?” Cara asked, working to hold onto her composure while Travis’ hands slid up past her knees.
“Why else would I ask you to wear a skirt on an international flight? We’ve already done the mile-high thing, more than once,” Travis murmured, wrapping his fingers around the waistband of her thong, sliding the lacy black garment down Cara’s curves.
Cara caught her breath, watching Travis toss her panties on the seat next to him. Any lingering inhibitions went right out the semi-open windows when he pulled her onto his lap, looking deep into her eyes. Cara thought how long it had been since she saw Travis’ face so care-free, so in-the-moment; she surrendered to his touch, caught up in a joie-de-vive she had ever only experienced with this man. Her man.
Done talking, Travis unbuttoned Cara’s blouse, sliding his thumbs across her nipples, his mouth open now, his tongue following his hands across the filmy material covering her breasts. His kiss -- sweet and soft, hard and demanding, all at the same time – left her breathless, and so wet; Cara knew, no doubt, before they arrived at their hotel, Travis would be in her. It was just a question of how long Cara could stand to keep him – and herself -- waiting.
Cara straddled Travis’ legs now, running her own hands across his chest, his nipples, down to the waistband of his jeans. She heard him catch his breath, watching her slide her palm along the erect length of his cock, Cara’s own breathing keeping pace with his while Travis slid his left hand back under up her skirt. Travis smiled now, his fingers stroking her wet pussy, whatever barrier provided by the thin material of her panties gone.
Cara bit her lower lip, feeling Travis’ breath on her face, his fingers pressing firmer now, stroking her clit, sliding deep in her. The sounds and brief glimpses of the city streets through the open windows receded. Cara let herself go; she had yearned for these few precious days alone with her husband, waited for three long years to see the lines in his face smooth away, to see that familiar ready grin she had first fallen in love with reflect back in the steady gaze of his eyes, no other care crowding his thoughts except to please her….
“I want to feel your cum on my fingers,” Travis murmured, never taking his gaze from her face, watching her abandon any pretext of control at the start of this first orgasm crashing so fast, so hard. That amazing warmth in Travis’ eyes turned so dark now while he felt her pushing hard against his fingers’ insistent caress, Cara watching his brown eyes deepen into that familiar black whenever he made love to her.