Forty-Seven G (A Black Panther Fanfic)

Forty-Seven G [Part 2 of 3]

"Hot thing, barely twenty-one

Hot thing, looking for big fun

Hot thing, what's your fantasy?

Hot thing, do you want to play with me?"

Prince – "Hot Thing"

Fa'aana stood in the aisle of the business class section of the plane watching passengers board at a snail's pace. She scratched the back of her neck while keeping an eye out for people who needed help.

The last few days had been a breeze with the flight team she was working with. Mark, Mavis, Lucy, and herself were in sync and had the uncanny ability to anticipate what they all needed from each other at any given moment. The long haul they were about to embark on from Italy back to Atlanta was going to be packed. When she checked the passenger manifest, there were only about seven open seats available.

She and Mark were able to catch a fantastic brunch at the hotel they stayed overnight in while on a layover in Rome. Munching on a croissant with a thick smothering of Nutella and the best espresso ever, she detailed the birthday dinner she had with Hugh back in the states.

Mark didn't seem impressed, and after sharing the deets, she realized it was a pretty poor date. They visited the Atlanta aquarium first because she loved the place, but Hugh gave off bored vibes so they left early. The restaurant he made reservations for had pretty bland food despite the expensive menu and all the hype she had heard about it. The strip club he took her to afterward that she was excited about going to wasn't as impressive as she had hoped. The exotic dancers were athletic and did amazing things on the pole, but all the music sounded the same and all the women looked cut from the same cloth: Ultra-colorful wigs. Overly injected ass cheeks and breasts augmented into unnatural sizes and shapes that looked uncomfortable. Plus, all the bored facial expressions.

She wanted a sexy good time that would lead to some amazing sex with Hugh, but instead, he served her mediocre peen. Bad food, bad company, and bad sex. Ugh.

The only highlight of her birthday was finding herself on the lap of a stranger getting fingered on the back of the plane almost a week ago. Forty-Seven G. Erik from Oakland. Thinking of him made her nipples perk up. She hadn't cum like that since...wow, when had she ever cum like that? It was explosive. Primal. It felt like he was introducing her to her own vagina for the first time.

She sighed thinking about him.

After he made her cum, she had to go into the lavatory and change her panties from the fresh pack she had in her carry-on stored in the galley. She wanted to reciprocate the pleasure back to him, but Mark had woken up and they had to prep for the breakfast run before landing and serve a few early coffees and juices. She felt bad because his erection was something she wanted to see and touch.

Before Erik left the plane, she had given him her number because he had promised to send her a picture of himself at the wedding he was attending. Two days later, as promised, a number she didn't recognize popped up on her phone with two attachments. One was a picture of Erik smiling with a bride and groom, and the other was a candid shot of Erik straightening his bow tie.

He was disgustingly photogenic, and she wished she had never asked for a picture because now she would be stuck with a memory of a man she would never see again. He knew how to wear a tux, and he knew how to serve face for the camera. And those damn dimples. Yummy.