Scene 1: Back Corridor Violation
POV: Divya Rana Location: Service Hallway Behind VIP Lounge Time: 11:22 p.m.
She only meant to take the shortcut.
The lounge was crowded, the air heavy with cologne, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Most of the crew had stayed behind for late drinks and casual mingling with guests and pilots.
Divya wasn't in the mood.
She needed air. Silence. A toilet. Anything but Jasmine's perfume lingering in every corner, or her laugh—low, throaty, intoxicating—cutting through the noise like velvet.
So she slipped into the side hallway that looped behind the lounge and led to the staff-only restrooms.
It was dimly lit. Narrow. Cold.
And not entirely empty.
She heard the voices before she turned the corner.
A man's deep voice.
And hers.
That voice.
Jasmine.
"Shhh… someone might hear…"
"Then be quiet," the man growled.
Divya froze.
She was just steps from the bend in the hallway, her back pressed against the wall, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning everything else.
slap
A soft smack of skin on skin.
A gasp.
Then silence.
And then—
Jasmine's moan.
Divya inched forward.
Slowly.
So slowly it felt like her knees would give out.
She rounded the corner, heart in her throat.
And saw them.
Jasmine was bent forward slightly, one palm braced against the wall. Her skirt was hiked up to her waist. Her shirt was untucked. Her bare ass gleamed under the hallway lights, the inked rose vine curving over her thigh like a whispered invitation.
The hotel manager—older, stocky, still in uniform—stood flush behind her, one hand under her shirt, the other buried between her legs.
His fingers moved fast.
Jasmine's hips rocked against them.
She moaned again—softly this time, but clear.
"Mmm—fuuuuck—yes—just like that—"
Divya's thighs pressed together involuntarily.
She should leave.
Run.
Say something.
Anything.
But she couldn't.
She stayed rooted, hidden just behind the corner—watching.
Burning.
Her breath shallow.
Her pussy already aching.
"You want to cum before someone finds us?" the man growled.
"Yes," Jasmine whispered, laughing. "Cum in my panties. Leave me dripping while I pour coffee."
slap slap slap
His fingers moved harder now.
Jasmine arched her back, grinding down on him, one heel kicked off, her thighs shaking.
Divya's mouth fell open.
Her hand drifted beneath her skirt before she could even think to stop it.
Just watching…
Just touching…
Just once…
Jasmine came with a muffled scream, her body jerking, knees almost buckling.
The manager pressed a kiss to her neck and whispered something Divya couldn't hear before straightening his uniform and walking off through the emergency exit at the far end.
Jasmine stayed behind—panting, skirt still up, hand still on the wall.
And then—
She turned her head.
Looked directly at Divya.
"You watched," Jasmine said softly.
Not surprised.
Not angry.
Amused.
"Did you touch yourself?"
Divya's cheeks burned.
Her fingers were still under her skirt.
She couldn't lie.
Couldn't speak.
She nodded.
Barely.
Jasmine smirked.
"Good."
Then she pulled her skirt up and walked past her like nothing had happened—leaving behind a trail of perfume and sex.
Divya sank to the floor.
Right there.
In the hallway.
And came.
Hard.
Panting.
Sobbing.
Twisting her fingers between her soaked folds like she was possessed.
When it was over, she slumped against the wall, legs open, face hot, eyes full of tears.
She whispered into the dark:
"Please… don't stop…"
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Scene 2: Lounge Table Seduction
POV: Divya Rana Time: 9:10 a.m. Location: Airline Crew Lounge, Abu Dhabi HQ
The lounge smelled like burnt coffee and aftershave.
The pilots had gathered early for a briefing—half in uniform, half still lounging in sleeveless shirts and half-zipped slacks, nursing espresso shots and murmuring about jet streams and missed layovers.
Divya sat in her usual spot—the back corner, arms crossed, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.
Especially not her.
But she was already there.
Jasmine.
She was the center of the room without even trying.
Dressed in regulation uniform, but altered—of course.
Her shirt was tighter than required. The top two buttons open.
Her skirt hugged her hips, slit slightly higher on the side.
As she walked past the breakfast bar, her jacket fluttered just enough to reveal the edge of a black vine tattoo curling over her upper thigh—visible even beneath her sheer stockings.
"How is this allowed?" Divya thought.
But her thighs were already pressing together beneath the table.
Jasmine sat down at the table closest to the front.
Three male pilots joined her.
One young—a new hire with messy hair and wide eyes.The other two—experienced, confident, amused.
Jasmine didn't speak at first.
She just sipped her tea and crossed her legs slowly, letting her skirt ride up.
The youngest man stared openly.
Jasmine noticed.
She smiled—and spread her legs just a little wider.
Divya's lips parted.
She pretended to look at her phone but kept her gaze fixed.
Jasmine lifted her cup, adjusted her posture—deliberately shifting her chair back from the table so that her legs were more visible.
She ran one finger down the inside of her thigh, stopping just above the tattoo's edge.
The co-pilot licked his lips.
"Long flight today?" Jasmine asked casually.
"Long enough," the younger one mumbled, unable to look away.
She leaned closer.
Her voice lowered.
Only the men could hear it—but Divya could read the expressions.
Shock.
Excitement.
Embarrassment.
Arousal.
The older pilot said something that made Jasmine giggle.
She picked up a spoon and held it out.
"Want a taste?"
She fed it to the young man.
He blushed, opened his mouth, and swallowed.
Jasmine licked the spoon clean after, eyes locked on him.
Divya could feel the heat rising in her chest, her face, her thighs.
Jasmine shifted again.
Under the table, she reached out and placed the young co-pilot's hand on her knee.
He flinched.
Looked around.
She said something that made him leave it there.
Divya's heart was thudding so loud she was sure someone could hear it.
And then—
Jasmine tilted her head back and closed her eyes for three seconds.
The man's hand must have moved higher.
Jasmine bit her lower lip.
A barely-there moan escaped her lips.
And Divya snapped.
She stood up abruptly.
Walked fast.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
She found the private restroom at the end of the hallway, locked the stall, and yanked her pants down.
Her panties were already soaked.
She sat down hard, hand between her legs before she could even think.
Her fingers circled her clit once—twice—
And she came.
Fast.
Hard.
Mouth open.
No sound.
Eyes wide, tears brimming.
She slumped forward.
Hand sticky.
Breath shallow.
Shaking.
"I can't keep doing this…" she whispered.
"But I don't want her to stop…"
She cleaned herself up slowly. Avoided her reflection.
And when she returned to the lounge, Jasmine was gone.
But her voice echoed in Divya's skull like a curse:
"Want a taste?"
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Scene 3: Guest Room Blowjob
POV: Divya Rana Time: 11:55 p.m. Location: Hotel Guest Wing, Floor 16
The hallway was too quiet for this hour.
Most guests were out. The lights were dim. The carpet silenced footsteps.
Divya hadn't planned to be there. She was on the wrong floor—accidentally pressed 16 instead of 14 when she returned from a midnight vending machine run.
But something felt… off.
The air carried a faint thump. Rhythmic.
And a sound—soft slurping—barely audible, just enough to stop her in her tracks.
Then she heard the moan.
Low.
Choked.
And unmistakably Jasmine's.
She turned toward the sound instinctively. A guest room door—slightly ajar. Just a sliver. A triangle of shadow and light.
Divya crept closer.
Heart pounding.
Feet silent.
She hesitated… then peeked through the crack.
And the world stopped.
Jasmine was on her knees.
Naked from the waist up. Breasts swaying with each bob of her head. Makeup smudged. Black liner streaked down her cheeks.
Her mouth wrapped around a middle-aged white man's cock, thick and shiny with spit. Her hands rested behind her back.
She was moaning—into it.
Her eyes looked up at him, glassy and submissive.
He gripped her hair and thrust roughly.
Jasmine gagged.
Tears spilled.
But she didn't stop.
She leaned into it.
Loved it.
Wanted it.
"Fuck, that's a good throat," the man groaned.
Jasmine pulled off for a moment, spit dripping from her lips.
"Use my face," she whispered. "Please. Cum all over me."
Divya's mouth was open. Her body frozen.
Her hand slid under her sweatpants without a command.
Her fingers found her clit like they knew the path by heart.
She didn't even blink.
Jasmine went back down—faster now. Head bobbing. Moaning louder.
slap slap slap
The man thrust faster.
His legs trembled.
"You filthy fucking girl—take it—take all of it—"
He came with a groan, and Jasmine opened her mouth wide, tongue out, eyes closed in ecstasy.
Hot ropes of cum splattered her face, her lips, her hair.
She moaned through it, licking the base of his cock, smiling.
Divya came.
Hard.
Her knees buckled.
She clenched around her own fingers, muffling a sob in her other hand.
She slid down the wall, shaking, thighs soaked, panties ruined.
Tears ran freely now.
Inside the room, Jasmine looked up at the man and asked,
"Want to film round two?"
Divya scrambled to her feet and fled down the hallway—half-walking, half-limping.
She reached the staff laundry room and locked herself inside.
Tore off her underwear.
Held them up—soaked, sticky, humiliating.
She buried her face in them and came again, moaning Jasmine's name into the darkness.
===============================================Author's Note:
This month's expected minimum of 5 chapters has already been satisfied. You got 9 chapters this month. I'll only provide more chapters if I want to or if I receive some donations. Otherwise, you will have to wait for a month's end. I have followed this for the past few months.