Prolific sex writer Dr. Susan Block details her adventures in The Mile High Club on her website:
Max and I met the challenge when we first joined the Mile High Club on one of those long, lazy, midweek afternoon, half-empty flights from Philly to LA. It started when I was just taking an innocent little nap, my head nestled in Max’s nice warm lap and, since it was daytime, I put a blanket over my head to block out the light. So, in between snoozes, I would sleepily snuggle and rub my cheek against Max’s jeans around his rather responsive crotch area. Then, keeping the blanket pulled down over my head, I proceeded to drowsily yet deliberately unzip his fly, and go down, down, down on him as we kept going up, up, up in the air. It was quite exhilarating for the first 10 minutes or so. Then I started getting pieces of yucky, mood-breaking airline blanket in my mouth, and I think the elderly couple across the aisle were wondering if Max had a small, flight sick animal on his lap or what. So I pulled up his pants and emerged from the blanket, a little soggy and bleary-eyed, but determined to finish what we started.
There was nowhere to go but the infamous airplane lavatory, which is very small, but just big enough. And though it does say “No Smoking,” nowhere does it say “No Sex.” So let’s see, how did we do it? Max was sitting on the toilet seat. I was in the woman superior position (of course), though I didn’t exactly feel superior. More like a crushed bird with my feet pressed up against the sides of the stall, as my nether parts gamely tried to catch the worm.
She also shares why sex on a plane is hot, including romance, danger, excitement, boredom, risk of discovery and:
Then there’s the seductive siren of anonymity. You’re away from your family, your nosy neighbors, your competitive co-workers, the folks who care about you and would probably call you a slut or a nut if they only knew. Traveling makes it easy to be wild. It is well known to cause otherwise conservative people to commit all sorts of spontaneous, risky acts they would not try at home, such as indulging in crazed, passionate whoopy in a public place.
It was some of the most uncomfortable and ridiculous sex we’ve ever had, but it was also some of the greatest. An achievement, you might say. We even both managed to climax before the inevitable turbulence occurred, which actually felt kind of nice–a little rock n roll rhythm to the afterglow–at which point the flight attendant started banging on the door .