The week rolled on and it was Friday afternoon, the end of our conference. For the flight home Helen wore her conference gear: T-shirt, short denim skirt, rubber thongs, no bra, no panties. Although it was not outrageous, it still turned me on enormously, knowing what little she was wearing, and how willing she was to share her body with me, or anyone else for that matter. Once in the air she whispered to me Fred, have you ever joined the mile-high club. Yes. Sure. Why? Because I havent and I want to. I beckoned the hostess, slipped her and asked Can we use your galley area

Stunning! She wore bright red high heels. Her muscular, tanned legs were bare all the way up to a tiny pair of matching red shorts which barely covered her bum cheeks. Somehow they clung to her at the widest part of her hips. Above here shorts her waist narrowed to almost nothing. Her waist and lower body were bare. Her tummy was flat and tanned. Her tits were pleasing.

The next morning we both woke early. We had a quick fuck, which was pleasant without being over the top, then hopped into the shower together. Once I was dressed, Helen sent me down to the reception desk to reclaim her back-pack. Even in these less provocative clothes she looked terrific, especially whenever she moved, because her tits bounced beautifully for lack of a bra. Before we go to breakfast, Im going to phone my wife. Youre married!!! Sure she is an even bigger slut than you. Im pretty sure that she was fucking someone last night, too. How do you know? Well, when I was leaving home yesterday, she was