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Guy in need of lift goes a long way.

She finally bent down to grab my cock to stroke it firmly, and then tighter and faster, motioning me to get on my knees to slip inside of her glistening pussy.

The whir of the engines and the pressure that blocked my ears muffled our moans and cries as we brought each other to the brink several times over made it feel surreal and unbelievable. It almost felt like as if I was dreaming until I felt the plane lowering to land, which gave me the cue to blast inside of her and to fall into her. I wished I could have stayed inside of her forever, but we both knew that we'd have to get up, straighten up, and look as if we just simply enjoyed our flight.

But being with Andrea was never just about sex, although it crept into the fun things we often set out to do when we were together. We had a great time watching the Giants annihilate the Cubs while we sat in the bleachers. We drank beer and ate peanuts that she fed to me. I licked the salt off of them as I would her clit every chance I felt safe trying to get away with it. We took the train to Rush Street to grab a stuffed pizza for dinner and then head out to a jazz club. We took a communal hi-top with a couple of young professional types who looked as if they turned Happy Hour into Happy Night.

"How long have the two of you been married?" one of them asked. It was a common question we got from people.

"Oh, we're not married," Andrea said. "I'm just his friend for the night."

The men's eyes lit up and the proverbial light bulbs flicked on.

"So, if we were to pitch in, how much would it cost us to join you for the night?" one of them asked.

Andrea threw her head back and laughed as she slung one arm around me and said, "My rate is six grand for the day, and I don't take credit cards."

I tried not to laugh as their faces fell. They polished off their beers and headed off, thinking the rest of the night was definitely out of their budgets.

"Touch__, my little hussy," I said as we clinked glasses. "Can I afford you for another day?"

"Well ..." she said, feigning to ponder. "I suppose I could cut you a deal if you take me dancing."

She knew I wasn't much of a dancer. I would have chosen to jump off Navy Pier naked instead of dancing, but it was either the cocktail or that had my head in a spin that made me take up her offer.

We slipped a few buildings down the street to a blues bar where the loud, danceable band could be heard from the street. We snagged a table for two next to the dance floor that had just been vacated. She wasted no time pulling me onto the floor as soon as the band kicked into "Mustang Sally."

There was no danger of me shuffling on the floor like an uncoordinated white guy as she pressed her body close to mine and swayed her body -- those sexy almost bare shoulders, the subtle rotation of her hips, and the stance of her feet aligned with her shoulders -- at half time. I was very familiar with this dance in a horizontal state, but do to it standing upright with her hands sliding up the back of my leg up to the cusp of my ass was all the motivation I needed. As she turned around to rub the top of her ass against my cock, it turned to something like a solid tube of tempered glass -- strong, heavy and could handle some hard, repetitive, industrial use for several hours.

Then a blonde came from across the floor with her eye on Andrea. She mimicked Andrea's moves as she came closer and closer. Soon the two of them were dancing together as Andrea was doing her slow shimmy in front of me. As their hips were grinding together, the blonde's hands made her way for my hips and my ass until a big, burly guy took her by the arm and hauled her away.

In an instant, the hardon of the century was gone. The last thing I needed was to have some Grizzly Adams type think was I messing around with his girlfriend or his wife.

"Let's get out of here," I said to Andrea.

On our way out the front door, the big guy approached us.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out, but can you check to see if anythin

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