OT The TSA

He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into
a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring
voice close to my ear. "Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused
hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my
calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I
should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so
experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and
partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing
fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm,
full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching,
knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid
them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A
man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me
what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling,
holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."

On Jan 4, 4:47*pm, nfw wrote:
He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into
a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring
voice close to my ear. *"Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused
hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my
calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I
should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so
experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and
partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing
fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm,
full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching,
knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid
them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A
man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me
what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling,
holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."

Very few TSA men agents, if any, give a female a pat down.

On 1/4/2011 7:47 PM, nfw wrote:



He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into
a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring
voice close to my ear. "Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused
hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my
calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I
should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so
experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and
partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing
fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm,
full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching,
knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid
them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A
man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me
what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling,
holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."


That was hot. What airport and what was his name? Can you request an
agent, and do you have to tip them, and how much?

Talk about bad luck! I flew over xmas and a big fat black lady patted me
down. Thought it was humiliating as her hands were all over me and even
brushed against my crotch! I felt ridiculous standing spread eagle, and
having to raise my top and then bend over!

In article ,
says...

On 1/4/2011 7:47 PM, nfw wrote:



He grasped me firmly but gently just above my elbow and guided me into
a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He
approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring
voice close to my ear. "Just relax."

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused
hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my
calves slowly but steadily. My breath caught in my throat. I knew I
should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so
experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and
partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing
fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm,
full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply. Probing, searching,
knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid
them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and
expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A
man not used to taking `no' for an answer. A man who would tell me
what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say...
"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling,
holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."


That was hot. What airport and what was his name? Can you request an
agent, and do you have to tip them, and how much?

"Have whip, will travel" reads the card of a man . . .