Desiring Desirae

I had just got the Boeing 747-400 up to our cruising altitude of 35,000 feet, about 25 minutes out of Los Angeles International, when there was a tap on the cockpit door, followed by the delightful blonde stew, Debbie, with coffee for myself, First Office Smith and Flight Engineer Brown.

"Thanks Debbie, just what the doctor ordered," I smiled, accepting my black coffee.

"No problem, Captain Cockburn," she replied, which was a tad formal since until about a month ago I'd been having a raging affair with her.

I've been separated from my wife of 10 years for a couple of months now, and at 40 I was enjoying playing the field. Debbie was one of the field! We'd broken up when she moved in with a stew from Delta and was now enjoying a passionate lesbian affair. We airline people tend to get around!

I'd better not tell you the name of our airline, since we'll be breaking a few FAA rules in this story, but hey - show me a crew that doesn't!

I'd put the Boeing on automatic pilot and we'd all settled back to monitor the flight to the Hawaiian Islands - Honolulu International is about five hours 25 minutes from LAX.

"Er, captain," said Debbie, as she was about to leave. "There's a woman in first class who says she's keen to see what happens up at the sharp end. I think she may be some kind of star - she's certainly getting a lot of passenger attention," said the pert little blonde.

"What's her name, Deb?" I asked, adopting the diminutive form of her name we had used when I was fucking her.

"The manifest says she's Desirae Spencer," said Debbie.

Desirae Spencer! Since I'd become sort of single again, I'd been doing a bit of surfing on the net and lingerie model and pornstar Desirae Spencer was one of the hottest numbers on it.

She's got shortish blonde hair, which frames her stunning face superbly. Deep brown eyes. A lovely mouth, perfect for you-know-what. Firm, pert breasts - at 34 inches not the biggest in the world, but definitely not the smallest. A really cute arse, and a tight little pussy with just a hint of pubic hair at her mons.

But it's her legs that are the really stunning thing about her. You've heard the old saying "legs that go on for ever". Well, Desirae Spencer's go on for longer than that! She's five feet nine inches tall and in the lovely platform boots or high heeled shoes she wears, she stands around 6 foot one. Desirae Spencer equals absolute stunner!

"Never heard of her," I told Debbie.

"But whistle her up here in a couple of minutes and we'll do the old PR routine for her."

When Debbie had left, I turned to the first officer, an eyebrow raised. "Never heard of her, either," he said - honestly, by the look of it.

I eyed Brown, who was checking all his fuel gauges and usage times. "Nah, dunno her," he said. "Anyway blondes I can leave alone. I prefer black women."

Indeed, he did. He's married to a stunning Nigerian woman.

Just then, came a knock on the door and Debbie ushered in a hugely attractive blonde, wearing a crisp white blouse, with bumps in all the correct places, and searingly blue, tight jeans.

I half turned in my seat and gave her my "Come up and see me sometime" grin. "Hi," I said, holding out a hand which I hoped wasn't trembling too much, "I'm Rex Cockburn - that's cock and burn, only it's pronounced Coburn."

This vision of loveliness shook my hand in a strong grip. "Hi Captain Rex Coburn," she smiled, "so this is where all the work gets done?"

"No, nothing like it," I laughed. "Most of the work is all the trolley pushing, meal serving and drinks pouring that goes on behind us. We just get this beast up in the air and hopefully down again, but in between take-off and landing we just sit around and drink coffee all day!"

She smiled at my little joke and it was warm enough to melt me to a dribble - a dribble except for that bulge in my pants, which was threatening to burst through my uniform's trousers!

She stood between my seat and the first officer's and looked at all the dials and gauges. "So these tell you what the jumbo's doing?" she asked.

"Sorry, Ms Spencer," I smiled, "but we never refer to this plane as a 'jumbo' - that's just an infuriating term invented by the media. I think you'll find that most people who fly this beauty refer to it as Big Bird."

She smiled at me again. "Big Bird - I like that, I'll remember it whenever I see one overhead. Now, what do all these things tell you?"

I ran through the beginner's guide to the sharp end of the 747 and then checked my watch. "They'll be serving lunch back there any minute. Tell you what?"

"What, captain?" she smiled at me.

"If you really want to see three guys at work, I'll get Debbie to give you a call when we start our finals approach into Honolulu - say 30 minutes before landing. You can sit in the jump seat and get one of the best views in the house."

She beamed at me. "Oh that's the most marvellous offer I've had in ages," she laughed. "I'll see you later."

And with a quick turn and leaving behind a marvellous waft of Joy, by Jean Patou, she started to leave.

"Oh, by the way, Ms Spencer," I added, "I'm a great fan!"

She smiled a sort of "We've got a secret" smile and was gone.

As soon as the cockpit door shut, Smith burst into giggles. "Hey, skipper, what the fuck was all that 'I'm a great fan' bullshit," he leered.

"Hey, nothing wrong with turning on a bit of the old charm," I grinned in reply. "Anyway, what did you think?"

Smith leered again. "Miss Hottie Tottie 2006 is what I think. Fuck, she's so fuckin' horny. What a woman!"

I looked back at Brownie. "Very impressive," he replied, "but I'm still a black bird man."

It was getting on for 4pm local time, when Debbie ushered the gorgeous blonde into the cockpit for her second visit. I indicated the jump seat behind mine, and the fact that there was a headset hanging on a hook, which allowed her to listen in to the chat between Honolulu tower and Smith.

"There's Honolulu down there," I pointed out to the beautiful blonde. On the left hand side of the plane was the city, with its crowded beaches and deep blue sea.

Smith indicated I could take over. "I have control," I said, and banked the Big Bird into a big left turn, allowing a great view down over the city before we levelled up for the glide down to the runway.

Now, between you and me, landing a 747 under our company's rules is pretty easy - it runs along the lines of get the fucker on the deck as quick as you can, only don't bounce it and don't break it.

But I have to admit that for our cockpit guest, I was really fucking trying! As Brown called out the descent from 100 feet in 10s, and from 10 in singles, I was concentrating like crazy.

Then, when Brownie went from "one" to "zero", I smeared that big fucker in and held the nose up as long as I could, before allowing the nose wheels to kiss the tarmac. I even impressed Smithy!

After we'd wheeled the Boeing into the gate - and it takes an eternity at Honolulu to get to the fucker, sometimes - I turned and unhitched my harness.

"Well, Ms Spencer," I smiled, doing my best "Right Stuff" drawl, "hope you enjoyed that!"

She beamed another body melting smile at me. "It's the best fun I've had with my clothes on for years," she replied.

Then she stood and held out her right hand very formally. "Thank-you captain," and I felt some paper in her palm. I transferred it to my shirt's top left breast pocket in what I hoped was a natural move.

She turned to Smith and waved "Great flight, thanks", then smiled at Brownie and was gone.

Smithy unlatched his harness and let out a whooosh sound: "Oh fuck, I'm in love."

I busied myself, filling in all the necessary stuff after our flight, making a special note about the fact that the back of my seat had an annoying bump in it and could somebody fucking well fix it, then prepared to leave.

Smithy and Brownie left before me, in a hurry. They were due to fly back the next afternoon and wanted to get changed and into Waikiki's bars and fleshpots. I, on the other hand, was staying for a week's leave and had all the time in the world.

When I had the cockpit to myself, I checked the paper I'd been given. The message was simple. A hotel name - by magnificent coincidence the same place I was booked into for the week - was scrawled on the scrap of paper, below it the initials DS.

I stared at it for a moment or two, then stuffed it into my pocket, all the while thinking to myself "You lucky fucker, you lucky fucker!"

I ignored the crew minibus and got a cab into Waikiki and checked into the hotel, stripped, showered, then lay back on my bed, stroking my eight-inch erection and thinking of Desirae! Then I picked up the phone and asked for her room.

The phone rang and rang. Damn! She'd gone out. I pulled on a freshly laundered white shirt, Ralph Lauren slacks, a pair of brand-new Sperry Top Siders and went up to the hotel's superb top deck bar, with its wonderful views along Waikiki Beach towards Diamond Head.

At the bar I ordered a maitai - when in Rome, as it were - and then, down the end of the bar, smiling at me was this vision in a tight green dress. I moved down and took the stool next to her.

She grinned: "Well, if it isn't my favourite airline pilot - how's it goin', Captain Cock." Then a laugh: "Oh, sorry, Captain Cock Burn."

I grinned back at her. "You can call me Rex, if I can call you Desirae," I said.

She sipped on her long drink. "Tell me, Rex, what you said back on the flight - are you really a fan of mine?"

I nodded. "You're the spunkiest, sexiest woman I've ever seen on the internet. I think you're gorgeous," I told her, with absolute honesty and sincerity.

"You flying back to the mainland tomorrow?" she asked.

"Nah," I said, "I'm on a week's leave and then I passenger back in eight days. And you?"

Desirae sucked once more on her drink. "I'm here to do a photo shoot, some bikini stuff, with a friend who lives here now. I'm here for a week as well. What say we get together?"

I looked into her dark brown eyes and could hardly believe my ears. "I'd love to," I answered.

"OK, Rex," she said, obviously making up her mind about something. "You claim to be a fan, so I'll ask you two questions. Get the answers right and we'll get it on."

Again, I could hardly believe what I was hearing. "Shoot," I said, as convincingly as I could.

"What's my favourite food and what's my favourite position."

I looked out to sea, where the orange-tinted sun was doing its rapid dip into the water on the edge of the horizon. "Food - Japanese," I said.

"Very good," grinned the luscious blonde.

"Position - doggy style," I added.

Desirae Spencer downed her drink, dabbed a paper napkin to her lips and said: "Let's go fuck!"

To be continued...