How Does Airplane Steamy Sea End?

I knew I was in trouble the moment his hands were on my waist. The kind of trouble that steals your breath and leaves your thighs shaking. He wasn’t gentle. He wasn’t patient. He was everything I’d been pretending I didn’t crave. And once he got a taste of me, he made one thing very clear- I wasn’t going anywhere. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - This erotic diary pulses with raw desire, cum drenched climaxes, forbidden adventures, and breathless role plays that leave bodies trembling. Grab your seat, let your fantasies ignite, and ride this wave of unbridled passion to shattering highs. Warning!!!! Not for person’s under 18.

My best friend, Dominic Vale, and his girlfriend have created a couple's channel. Lately, their channel has gone viral on the Internet. I subscribe to their channel instantly. Every time they upload a new reel, I'll always watch it. But I keep having a feeling that Dominic's girlfriend, whose looks are censored in the videos, acts just like my wife, Cara Hartley. When I bring it up in front of Dominic, he punches me in the chest. "Oliver Beckett, you lovesick bastard! You see your darling wife in everyone! At this point, I'm going to get really jealous!" I just chuckle stupidly while rubbing my chest. Then, I quickly change the topic. When Cara's company goes on a field trip, I decide to drag Dominic along. Unexpectedly, something occurs during our flight back to the city. An air stewardess distributes notes to all the passengers so that we can write down our wills. With a trembling hand, I finish scribbling my note. When I glance at Dominic and Cara, I realize that they've written each other's names on their notes. Then, Cara turns on her camera, which shows both her and Dominic in the same frame. "Dominic, I'm very happy that I get to be with you during my final moments in life. Everyone, we won't be updating this channel anymore. Goodbye." But she fails to notice the way my face has gone pale outside the frame. Thankfully, the plane lands safely on the tarmac. All of us are still alive. Instead of kicking up a ruckus, I tear the note in my hands before opening the car door. "What are you still standing around for? Get in."

On the flight home, the plane starts shaking violently. Certain I'm about to die, I call my husband, Rhys Callahan, to say my last words. He hangs up on me, and his auto-reply flashes on the screen. "Driving. On my way to pick up Daphne." I've taken 86 flights in our five years of marriage. Every time I'm about to land, I ask him to come get me, and every time, the answer is the same. "Daphne's getting in too. I have to pick her up." He picks up Daphne Langston all 86 times. The lowest point comes during a rainstorm. I drag my suitcase through the downpour outside the terminal for two hours, unable to get a ride. When I call him, Daphne's voice comes through, laughing. "Oh, Rhys is helping me with my luggage right now. He can't come to the phone." Now the cabin fills with screaming and sobbing. The plane spirals out of control at cruising altitude, the left wing shearing away as flames light up the windows. My phone buzzes with a message from him. "Just picked Daphne up. What time do you land? I'll come get you." I stare at the screen and let out a bitter laugh. After five years, he's finally offering to pick me up. But fire swallows the plane as it plunges toward the ground. He doesn't know I'm no longer coming home.

Brandon Smith has flown for eight years. I've been with him since the time he was an assistant pilot, all the way until he successfully rose to the ranks as the head pilot. In the year Brandon's busiest with his career, I resign from my job and begin cooking according to his aviation schedule. Just once, I bring up the question, "Can you please show me the sight of being thousands of feet in the air in the near future? Just once, please!" Brandon continues eating from his plate. "The plane is a workplace, not an amusement park for you." I reply, "Okay." Since then, I never bring up that matter in front of him. That is, until I find myself suffering from insomnia one night. That's when I accidentally come across an encrypted photo album tucked away in Brandon's phone. There are over 40 photos in the album, all from his perspective as a pilot. There are seas of clouds, sunsets, double rainbows after a downpour, as well as the Milky Way in the night sky when the plane is over thousands of feet in the sky. Every photo has been sent to the same person with a bear's emoji as their name. The latest photo is a photo of the beautiful evening colors from three days ago. Half of the sun can be seen in the clouds. The caption that comes with the photo says, "Today's sky is still beautiful as ever. When you come over next time, you can take the observation seat on the right. It gives you the best angle of the sky." The bear emoji person responds with a hugging emoji and a short sentence. "Wait for me to go on my break." I put Brandon's phone back where it belongs without changing the password and deleting the album. Once the morning sun is up, I brew myself some coffee as usual before finishing it quietly. Then, I turn on my computer and book myself a flight ticket to Dalco. It's been eight years. Finally, I don't have to chase after Brandon's flight routes and wait for his mealtimes. I no longer have to stay in an empty house while guessing which flight destination he's headed to right now. Since Brandon's sky refuses to tolerate my presence, I shall move my roots elsewhere and watch the sunset on my own.

When the yacht was sinking, and only one spot was left on the lifeboat, Hendrix Zuckerman chose me. I was rescued, but Yana Bridgeton didn’t make it. She couldn’t wait for the second lifeboat and drowned in the ocean, her body lost forever. Hendrix pretended not to care and went through with our wedding as planned. For five years after our marriage, he trampled me into the dirt, blaming me for Yana's death. When I couldn't take it any longer and wanted a divorce, he decided to die with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the yacht accident happened. This time, I’ve decided to give the chance to survive to the one he loves most.

After I got back with Lily Reid, I finally had a chance to catch a breather. She no longer returned home late, and she no longer hid her social media posts from me. Finally, I no longer felt like an insecure madman in our relationship. It was as if nothing had happened before. Things were very peaceful. It seemed as though love could ease everything. One day, Lily got into a car accident. My childhood friend was with her, and he was found completely naked. The police passed the mediation letter to me and said sternly, “The surveillance footage showed that your girlfriend was driving distractedly and hit the car in the opposite lane.” I signed the letter numbly. Then, I collected the items from the car accident. There were a pair of sexy leggings, birth control products, and a guarantee letter that had been torn into pieces. [I, Lily Reid, promise to cut all ties with David Anderson, or I will rot in hell.] When I rushed to the hospital, Lily was struggling to sit upright and shield David. “I was the one who went to him. If you’re angry, direct it to me!” I shook my head and laughed in relief. It turned out no matter how hard I held on, I could not save the romance. The air tickets that I bought for our anniversary trip became my exit.