TSA T&A

AUTHOR’S NOTE; The following is a work of erotica, if you’re under the age of eighteen LEAVE NOW or a horde of zombie mice will visit you at night, enter through your ears and eat your brain.

           The airport was crowded with grumbling businessmen, exasperated parents and whining children all pressed together creating a casserole of a bubbling dish of humanity.  Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport also was suffering a malfunction in their air-conditioning system.  Bad enough everyone around (myself included) were angry but we were hot and sweaty as well.  The heat simmered the human-stinking stew that nobody wanted to smell let alone taste.

            I’d been in Dallas for two weeks.  The erotica writers convention I’d attended turned out to be as busy as expected.  However on a personal note it’d turned out to be a bust in the romance department.  Melody, my ex-girlfriend had dumped me for a younger woman—a goddamn red-haired bimbo of a secretary.  She was sneaking around with this woman while I was pounding the keyboard and trying to edit a novel.  So oblivious to what was going on around me I didn’t figure it out until Melody came home, bimbo on her arm and declared she was leaving me.  It hurt.  It hurt a lot and I was bitter, angry and upset.  Not the best of moods to traipsing off to Texas to be surrounded by my fans.  I’d tried to be cordial and polite.  But after the first hour of autograph signing, my books being held straight guys (I have a lot of those kinds of followers) and little old ladies I was pissy.

The gala ball, a formal event on Saturday did little for my mood.  Apparently I was lesbian poison, nobody looked my way.  Maybe it was how I carried myself.  Stomping around the convention floor like a badger with a sore tooth hadn’t helped.  The ball was a bust.  I’d hoped I’d find a distraction at least here in Texas.  Not looking for a permanent thing it had been my hope and dream some pretty little thing might be the perfect salve for my wounded heart.

            Oh well, I thought, at least I’m headed back to San Francisco.

            Standing in the long line at the TSA checkpoint, my long hair frizzing out from the heat and humidity I tried to remain a calm island in a sea of irate, tired people.  Behind me a man was loudly grumbling about the wait.  His blown-up ego, towering self- importance was being prickled like a rabbit in a thorn bush about his missing his flight.  In front of me a woman and her two young children fidgeted, swaying from foot to foot.  The lady’s kids whined, pissed and moaned until I had to concentrate on the sweat trickling down my back before I committed murder.  So I stood there.  Tired, horny and angry in my business jacket, skirt and white blouse trying to forget the humid air and press of bodies.  The line moved forward.  It was just a single step forward, too short to make me cheer but at least we moved.  I wasn’t looking forward to TSA’s tender ministrations.  I’d seen too many online videos about how rude, rough and callous the agents were to airline passengers. 

            “Hey!” I exclaimed when my left bicep was grabbed unexpectedly.

            She was built like a brick.  A few inches taller than me but carrying an additional fifty pounds the federal employed agent appeared to be able to toss me over her shoulder and carry me off if need be.  Her short blonde hair was cut in a men’s style.  Her grip on my arm was firm and chock full of authority.  The woman’s chest was distorting the TSA logo on her shirt and making the pen in her pocket stick out at an angle.  Her “I’m taking no shit off anyone” expression was plastered on her face like a bad Halloween mask.  She wasn’t ugly—just hating her job.  Squeezing my arm and spoke in that cute drawl all Texans have.

“Miss Henderson, you’ve been randomly chosen to undergo additional screening,” the uniformed woman said.

            “Why me, Agent Holland?” I asked her after reading her name tag.

            “Your name was pulled randomly,” she said.

            “I’m not setting foot in that body scanner.  I’ve read online on how they can cause cancer.”

            “That means you’ll have to undergo a full body pat down.”

            “Fine.”

            I didn’t mean for my reply to carry that much sarcasm but it did.  Agent Holland scowled at my words.  I followed her (not that I had a lot of choice) to the side of the checkpoint and into a small room.  Another woman, a small slip of a girl followed us in.  This chick was brunette and didn’t seem happy to do her job.  She kept shooting Holland a look of mild disgust.

            “Put your purse and briefcase on the table, please,” she said, shutting the door.

            I obeyed only because I wanted to get this over with as fast as possible, get on the plane and have a stiff drink.  The TSA agent snapped on a pair of blue latex gloves.  I tried not to swallow like some prisoner seeing the gallows from her jail cell.

            “Place your hands on your head, please,” Holland said, her voice blasé and bored sounding.

            “I’m goin’ for coffee, want any?” the brunette said, her tone quivering.

            “You have to stay,” Holland said, “it’s procedure.”

            “It’s okay, I don’t care,” I replied.

            As the other agent left I put my hands on my head.  With my arms up Agent Holland walked over and began to run her hands down from my wrists to my elbows.  I flinched a bit.  She gave me a smile which seemed to say, “Yeah, I know but it’s my job, okay?”.  Across my shoulders her hands went.  Searching my back I shivered from Holland’s touch, the feel of her wide palms as she stroked me. 

            “Mmmm,” I moaned with hot, quick embarrassment when her hands ran across my ass.  But the sensation of her squeezing and parting the soft cheeks had caught me off guard.  Like I said, I was lonely, horny and a bit sensitive.  It wasn’t an excuse, it was the state of my mind and body.

Holland didn’t seem to hear my comment.  She went about her business and I found myself biting my lip when she explored my legs down to my feet.  I knew what was coming next.  The return trip of her hands would come near my pussy, my neglected and now wet pussy.  Agent Holland stood up, the upward caress abandoned.  When she reached for my chest I know she had to see the fear and excitement in my eyes. 

Oh please, don’t react! I told my nipples. 

Running her blue latex fingers under the wire of my bra I felt those traitorous nubs swell and stand up.  I tried to distract myself.  I examined the ceiling and walls and tried to forget how aroused I was.  But Holland’s hair carried a nice herbal scent, her body’s heat swept over me and her hands were now on my tits.

Oh… fuck…that feels sooooo good.

I felt as if I was about to bite through my lower lip as the agent probed my large breasts.  Whether it was an accident or on purpose I let out a soft, slow groan of ecstasy when her thumb crossed my right tit’s areola. 

“S-sorry,” I said when she looked up.

“You’re gay?” Holland asked.

“Y-yeah, is that a problem?”

“No. I’ll try to make this quick and professional.”

Her answers and questions were spoken in a gruff, no-nonsense manner as if she could care less.  But I caught the slight crinkling of the left side of her mouth.  Her lip tugged upward in a very “Ah, ha!” sort of fashion.  I knew without asking this thick bodied woman wasn’t straight.  She looked like a bull-dyke and my anticipation grew in leaps and bounds.  She was gay—and a very interested lesbian at that.

Her hands released my tits and ran down my flat stomach causing it to quiver in trembling spasms.  Holland knelt and her hand reached my skirt’s waistband and I couldn’t help myself.

I leaned into her.

Hard.

Holland chuckled making her breath whoosh into my stomach making me shudder as if a cold breeze had wafted past me. 

“Been awhile, huh?” she said.

“T-too long,” I stammered out with a moan.

“Poor darlin’…”

She stood up.  I looked into her blue eyes and saw she was also quite excited by my reactions to her touch.  A faint smile appeared on her lips and her eyes unlocked from mine Holland glanced over my shoulder.

“The camera’s on,” she said.  “I’m going to help you out just don’t scream or cry out, okay?”

“I’ll try,” I said my words trembling with arousal.

Still kneeling she lifted my skirt.  My face grew hot, my cheeks warming to the erotic encounter I never expected.  Pushing her latex-clad fingers into my sex I shook from stem to stern.  The smell of her gloves, the pressure on my pussy and the nearness of her lips to my love bud increased my excitement to the nth degree. 

Oh please… kiss it… touch your lips to my pussy, I thought-begged at her.

Agent Holland went behind me leaving me feeling cold and abandoned.  My skirt falling over my needy slit like a bank’s vault door slamming down.  Henderson’s Savings and Loan had been sealed, or so the thought occurred to me.  I wanted to cry.  The feeling I’d be left unfulfilled and sexually frustrated washed over me like someone tossed a bucket of dirty water across my face. 

I was still looking down when it happened.  My body jerked making my tits wiggle when I saw her arms go around my waist.  Like naughty blue spiders her fingers sought out the hem of my skirt once more.  She raised it slow and easy.  Shutting my eyes to concentrate and enjoy it all I managed to suppress a moaning sob when her fingers neared the top of my panties.

I knew the crotch of my underwear was damp from my excitement.  I could feel the air caressing the moist, throbbing spot.  Holland’s fingers pressed on either side of my cunt and I tried not to bend at the waist from delight.  She stroked my pussy.  Tender flicks of her finger across the engorged bud of my clit made me whimper past tightly pressed lips.  My labia were spread.  Holland’s digits were on either side pushing my thick pussy lips and allowing her to run another finger from my slit’s base to the sensitive nub.  Through the material of my panties she caressed me.  My hips bucked and my knees began to wobble.  The TSA dyke stroked me for a few minutes until I was silently gasping for more.

“Just follow me,” Holland said into my right ear.

She walked me backwards, we paused briefly and I felt her sit down.  Her hands never left my sweltering cunt.  Her wet latex-covered digits firmly caressing past the cotton panties and teasing my eager quim.

“Hey!” I exclaimed when pulled into her wide lap.

My legs were spread apart, the left side of my panties bypassed and Holland’s finger slipped inside my pussy.  I leaned forward.  The woman behind me sank her digit as far as it could go into my hungry snatch.  I tried to, but failed to contain my sob of delight when her other hand began stroking my clit. 

“Like that?” Holland said in an amused, aroused tone.

“T-the camera… what about t-the camera?” I mumbled.

“I’ll delete the file.  Just sit back and enjoy.”

“The other agent… what about her?”

“She won’t be back… relax and enjoy it, darlin’.”
            I leaned back and laid my head against her shoulder.  Holland kissed my cheek as she continued to finger-bang me.  Two latex-coated digits now filled me.  Squeezing and pinching my clit Holland made me gasp in hot, heavy breaths until I couldn’t think straight.  I ground my ass against her lap trying to wedge her fingers as deep as possible.  The sloppy sounds of her fingering me, the musky scent of my pussy and the sight of her hands shoved deep into my panties dominated my senses. 

“Oh… no, please… don’t,” I whined when the hand on my clit was pulled away.

“Relax,” Holland said.

I was pushed forward and felt the TSA agent fumbling around her chest.  A big, warm sphere now rested against my back.  Holland pulled me across her lap with the ease of a nurse handling a newborn.  My ass slid across her pants and I hoped I wasn’t leaving a wet spot on her trousers.  In the end I hung there half-on and half-off her closed thighs.  My legs dangling off her right leg, bent at the knee with my feet on the floor of the examination room.  I could feel my long brown hair sweeping against her shirt.  Without warning Holland pushed her massive tit with its erect nipple into my greedy mouth.  I sucked it hard.  My face was mashed against the soft, firm breast and it eclipsed my view.  Holland’s hand resumed stroking my clit and penetrating my pussy.

“So wet… so hungry,” she said about my cunt.  “You’re so nice and slippery.”

“Mmph,” I agreed past a mouthful of tit-meat. 

I tongued her nipple, Holland let out a gasp of her own.  The squishing sounds of her fingers delving into my snatch grew louder and wetter.  My knees fell apart.  Holland’s fingers became more persistent in their actions.  Flicking my clit the woman made me whimper into her breast. 

Oh yes… faster, faster baby… flick my bean f-f-faster! I thought at her. 

I grabbed her tit with both hands making her nipple distort in my mouth.  Squeezing and sucking, licking and nipping I tried to give as good as I was getting.  A third finger was inserted into my puss.  My face fell away from her massive tit, a long moan made my lips vibrate.

“Aaaaaaaah,” I cried out.

Holland stuffed her tit back into my face.  The squishy sounds of her fingers deeply penetrating my cunt sounded like a dog’s greedy gulping a bowl of water.  My inner tissues were spread as far as they could go, my pussy clenched and trembled in pre-orgasmic preparations.  I didn’t want to cum—not yet.  Fighting past the sensations I tried to hold it off.  I wanted a monster orgasm.  Hoping to be launched off her lap like the space shuttle I held back.

“Come for me, baby,” Holland said, her own voice husky and emotional.

No…no, not yet, I thought.

“I wanna feel and see your pretty pussy go ape-shit crazy.  Cum for me, darlin’… cum ever so hard.”

I released the remaining hold on my climax’s leash. 

My body went spastic on Holland’s lap.  It must’ve been what a fish out of water felt like, flopping and wagging its tail in a struggle to go back into its watery home.  Thrashing against the woman’s body I jerked, wiggled, bent and straightened out like some convulsing ER patient.  All the time the big woman kept stuffing her fingers into my slit and rubbing my clit as if to call a genie forth from my sex. 

My lips popped off her nipple. I tried to control my urge to shout to the heavens to let everyone know I was having a killer climax  I just managed to control my voice.

“Aaaagghh… aaaahhh…. Oh. My. God,” I grunted suppressing my need to wail.

“Ooooh, you’re so sexy when you orgasm,” Holland said.

My head lolled on my neck giving me a perfect view of the ceiling which seemed to rock from an earthquake.  It took me a few seconds to realize it was me moving not the building.  Holland leaned forward and kissed me hard, fast and deep.  Our tongues wrestled, she tasted like peppermint gum.  So passionate was the kiss it lengthened my orgasm by two-fold.  Her lips locked on mine, her fingers jammed into my pussy and the shaking of my body was all I knew after a while.  The warm, arrhythmic spasms began as my climax wore down.  I jerked occasionally on Holland’s lap, she held me and kept me from falling off.  I felt like a load of wet, limp laundry.  Just happy to be and nothing more.  She took her mouth from mine but not before giving my lips on last quick peck.

“T-thank you,” I breathed out more than said.

“All part of TSA’s friendly service,” Holland said with a chuckle.

“The service was outstanding.”

“You live in Dallas or Fort Worth?”

“No, San Francisco.”

“A shame. I was hoping to ask you out on a date.”

“Aw, that’s sweet… but I won’t be back until next year.  The erotica writers convention, you know.”

“I know.  I read your books Miss Henderson.  I’m a big fan.”

“What?”

“Can I get an autograph?”

I was stunned.  Climbing out of her arms and off her lap I smoothed out my skirt while staring at her.  Holland’s face was open, honest and could barely contain her arousal.  She handed me a piece of white paper from a pad in her pocket.  Taking the pen out of her hand I started to write before I remembered I didn’t know what her first name was.

 “What’s your first name?” I asked.

“Dorothy.  Dorothy Holland, Miss Henderson,” she replied.

“You can call me Betty.  After all, any woman whose stuffed her fingers up my cunt and made me cum until I’m shaky can’t call me Miss Henderson.”

“Okay, Betty.”

Dorothy’s face turned pink from embarrassment.  I realized she wasn’t prone to this sort of outlandish behavior.  Her shy nature exposed made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  It wasn’t love—or I didn’t think so at the time.  Yet there was something there, something tangible I wanted to explore. 

“I never suspected you’d let me do that… I’m kinda shocked,” Dorothy said.

“You silly,” I said with a laugh.  “My website states clearly I’m gay.”

“Oh… it does?”

“You knew that… you just wanted to tease me, didn’t you?”

“The computer didn’t pull your name out.  I lied.  I saw you and couldn’t believe it was you.  I told the senior agent I wanted an autograph and he let me pick you out of the crowd.  I knew you were gay, but wouldn’t be interested in a girl like me.  I’m not exactly a swimsuit model, ya know.  At least this way I could touch the woman whose books I adore legally.”

“Why you naughty girl, Dorothy!  Yeah, you’re not my usual type but I do find you attractive—even before your little body cavity search.”
“Sorry, can you forgive me?”

“Forgive you?  I’d like to eat you until you scream but I have to catch this flight.”

“Now who’s the tease?”

“Me, I guess.”

I noticed I’d left a wet mouth print on her right tit.  The desire to pull out her left and make them equal in arousal and moist consumed me.  I couldn’t take my eyes off how her boob was sticking out of her white TSA shirt and hanging over her bra.  Walking over I took a business card out of my purse.  With quick and nervous fingers I wrote down my unlisted phone number along with the one for my cell.  I handed it to Dorothy who’s face went slack with shock.  Her mouth dropped open and this made me happily think how’d I’d like to resume that kiss.  She took the card and I kissed her fast on the mouth.  She surprised me, it seemed only right to do the same to her.

“Call me when you get a chance,” I told her.

“But we live so far apart.  How are we going to get together?” Dorothy asked.

“We can’t I don’t have the cash for a return flight for awhile… do you have a computer?  A webcam?”

“I don’t have a webcam.”

“That’ll have to do.  We can get together online.”

“Phone sex?”

“If you like.  After all I’m a writer.  Just think about how nasty and dirty I can talk.”

I knew she could by her instant reaction. Her face went from a pinkish shame to scarlet excitement at the thought of what I’d say.  She shuddered in the chair making it squeak and creak.

“Maybe we can meet halfway—at a nice no-tell motel…,” I remarked in my best seductive voice.  “You.  Me.  A bottle of lube, several vibrators and no clothing for an entire weekend.  Sound good?”

“Oh god,” she moaned.  “I wish… but I don’t have any vacation time.”

“Well it’s a thought.  I think I’ll put this little encounter in my next book—if you don’t mind.”

“I’ll be a character in one of your novels?”

“If you want I can change your name.”

“No, that’s okay.  Wow!  Wait until I tell my roommate Jill about all this!”

“You do that, sweetie,” I said kissing her on the cheek.

She blushed even redder.

“Are we done here?” I asked.

“Yeah… unfortunately,” Dorothy said with a giggle.

“I’ll be in touch if you don’t call first.”

“I-I will…”

“Thanks, Dorothy.  Thank you for everything.”

“It was my pleasure.”

“Mine too.  Just don’t forget to delete that file from the camera over there.  I don’t want to be a star on the Internet.”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

I walked out of the room, my legs still shaky from my orgasm.  Walking past the other TSA agents I noticed how they were acting.  The skinny brunette who’d left the exam room was all but gagging in repulsion.  She must’ve been in on it.  I worried Dorothy’s job might be on the line if this breeder reneged on the deal she’d made with Dorothy.  The fat guy sitting by the computer, probably the senior agent was licking his lips and leering at me.  The other men were crowded around him their eyes fixated on the monitor.  Their bodies were hunched over like coroners during an autopsy as they watched the instant replay.  Most of them sported wood.  I wondered how many would excuse themselves, go to the bathroom and jerk off.  I laughed.  They looked up, grinned like felons so I gave them a wink and they all got embarrassed.  The people in line were shooting me looks of utter disbelief.  Perhaps my cries weren’t as muffled as I thought.

Fuck ‘em, I thought, strolling past them with my head held high.

I slept like the dead on the flight back to San Fran.

****

            The rest of the story goes something like this.  Dorothy deleted our little escapade from the TSA computers but saved a copy for us both.  It’s supposed to be impossible but I knew better.  The Internet was filled with TSA shots of women’s and men’s nude bodies from the scanner.  As for the file… well, she sent a copy to me.  If I thought getting it firsthand was hot, viewing it was a whole new experience for me.  I watched it twice and masturbated the last time with my favorite dildo.  Plunging it into my sopping wet pussy, watching Dorothy woman-handle me until I climaxed I drove myself to another screamer.  I came as hard then as I did on the monitor. 

Dorothy called a week later.

I talked dirty for three hours.

Dorothy climaxed, half-dozen times—I had four myself.

TSA found out about the entire finger-fucking, tit sucking session and acted accordingly.  Dorothy got fired.   Somebody squealed and I figured it was the homophobic brunette who left us alone.  So jobless and craving me, Dorothy was in a peck of trouble (her words, not mine).

I had no choice.

I flew Dorothy out to San Francisco, let her stay with me under the false pretense for just  awhile so she could find another job and apartment.  She’s now a bouncer at a gay bar and it’s working out for both of us.  We drive each other crazy at night.  Keeping with our first encounter she occasionally dresses up in her old uniform (she kept her spare, I paid for it when TSA was told it was lost) and “searches” me.  Last night she bent me over the coffee table in front of my webcam.  I didn’t have any explosives on (or in) my body but I did have an explosion.  Of the orgasmic kind, I mean.  Howling and screaming in delight I detonated while she reamed my hot, hungry pussy and slid her greased thumb up my puckered anus.  I came hard—my fingers are still shaking on the keyboard—you see, we just finished before I started writing this. 

Shocked?  I write about what we do in bed, on the couch, in the elevator, on the balcony and in the bathroom  To make sure I get it right, we record our antics.  And I do mean everything.  Ours is a no-holds-barred, living on the edge style of sex.  Because of Dorothy and the digital recordings my writing has taken on a kinkier aspect, even my editor has commented about how more real and hot it sounds.  I couldn’t agree more.  It’s been four months and I don’t want Dorothy to move out.  We’re not exactly in love but it’s all good—Dorothy doesn’t want to go anyway.  So who says the TSA don’t provide a necessary service? 

They sure did for this lonely lesbian.