tagHumor & SatireWatch Out, United

Watch Out, United

bySoftly©

Wishy Pencildick was an investment banker of note. He liked to hold a piece of the action personally when someone was funding a new exciting business, and that was exactly what the lawyers, Smelliam Fart, and Hasta Toot were presenting to him today.

Airlines come and go. But an airline where everyone rode nude, catering to the swingers of the world, was simply way ahead of its time, and would surely be a winner.

Smelliam explained that his business model had several major modifications to the usual airline business practices.

“We really see no need for two pilots. We intend to make the flight attendants be exactly that, and have them share the flying duties. Just like a ship captain that is seldom actually at the controls. That is the manner our aircraft will be flown.”

There is no need for seats. If New York commuters can travel hanging onto an overhead strap, the flying public can too, at least for takeoff and landing. The rest of the time, our passengers will be two people layered on the floor mats.

“We will serve only booze on the flights. All you want. A drunk passenger is a happy passenger, I always say. Of course, I always say, too, Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker!”

“The aircraft fleet would consist of Boeing 727, and DC 10 aircraft, each of which has a center engine on its tail. When airborne, we will use only one engine to save fuel.”

“We see no need for expensive mechanics, and will recruit Harley-Davidson mechanics instead. If you can keep a Harley running, you can keep anything running.”

“This will require some changes in FAA regulation. Senator Clinton has informed us that for $100,000.00 she will give us anything.”

“The manager at Newark, Paddy Accounts, has promised us ten gate spots, if we donate to a trust fund of his. We are all set.”

Wishy approved a five hundred million dollar loan on the spot. This was the most fun he had experienced since he gave Al Gore one hundred million dollars of the Chinese money to buy West Virginia. Money down the drain now.

Smelliam and Hasta got right to work. As general manager, they hired Slightly Crazy. Chief pilot was Off Halfcocked, and Director of Flight Attendants went to the ever popular, Shesa Cumming.

All ramp functions were contracted out to a family business, “Shit, Inc.,” whose motto is, “It will happen, with Shit.” Old man, Fulla, started the business. Now his sons and daughters have divided up the responsibilities.

Stinky drove fuel trucks. Bull moved the baggage. Deep provided plowing. Good was the catering guy, and Hafta provided security. Lotsa was the secretary for all the Shit operations.

Off Halfcocked, once a Navy pilot, immediately begin to hire pilots. He only would consider Navy Carrier pilots, known as “Tailhook.” Any guy that could manhandle a “Tomcat” in the morning and some Admiral’s daughter in the evening was his kind of guy.

Shesa Cumming filled the roster of Flight Attendants by recruiting at “Hooters,” and “Playboy” clubs. The pilots union had required that all Flight Attendants be at least a C cup.

After purchasing the aircraft from Iraq, Iran, Libya, and other such sterling operations, the first flights were set for April 1.

“A name, we need a name for this airline that fully conveys its potential,” Smelliam implored of Slightly. After much consideration, “Monica” was settled on. Instant name recognition, reasoned Slightly.

The first flight made history. Monica Airlines had a policy of never “Bumping” anyone. Four hundred and seventy five people made reservations. They put them all in a DC 10. The dispatcher, Raving Mad, estimated that the plane was seventy-five thousand pounds over gross weight, what with the people and the cargo of Nova Scotia sand they were sending out to LA for Shag’s personal sand box.

Just before take off, the PA system came alive. “Greetings everybody, this is your captain, Thickly Longbone. We welcome you to”Flight 69,” the maiden flight of Monica Airlines. I and the Flight Attendants will do everything we can to keep you cumming back for more.

The mike switch was left open. As the engines came up to full roar, and that big bird begin to rumble down the run way, a shrill female voice could be heard saying, “Captain, I could do this better if your finger was not in my pussy. What does that thingy do?” Longbone’s voice could be heard saying, “ I hope this shiny mother fucker can get off the ground?”

The flight Attendants all begin to shed their blue dresses, each with a symbolic white stain on the chest. As they climbed through ten thousand feet, Captain Longbone emerged from the cockpit. A Tailhook guy can’t miss a good fuck and one was developing at that moment on Monica Flight 69. He spied actress “Pussy Galore” of Bond movie fame. In a moment he had buried his, well, his Longbone, in her.

“Much nicer then Admiral Dewey’s daughter,” he thought as he bounced up and down on Pussy. Just as he was cumming, he saw Lovely Gash, the Flight Attendant that he left flying the plane. “ Who is flying?” he inquired.

“The Auto Pilot,” she responded. “I have to pee, and then this nice man wants to humpy-fucky me a while... Silly?”

“Silly me, we are at Flight level 360 with Collin’s avionics in control.” Longbone mused. Back to the job in hand of pleasuring Miss Galore.

Life was not that simple. Several very good looking women happened to be in the rear of the plane. Fucking them, and/or watching drew a large crowd making the plane out of balance. The Auto Pilot could not handle the pressure, so disengaged. Slowly the plane begin to rise and then fall, much to the passenger’s delight. Longbone with his head between Miss Galore’s tits did not notice.

A drunk, Real Dumbshit, did. He stumbled up to the cockpit. A private pilot with almost seventy hours, Real was imbued with the spirit that, “If it has a stick and a rudder pedal, I can fly it. I wonder if you can do slow rolls with this beauty? Yyyeessss!!” Thus was started a tradition on all Monica flights of rolling over a few times, so that there was a massive changing of sexual partners in the cabin. Longbone later improved on the technique by diving at the same time so that everyone was weightless.

Receiving no response from several calls, Air Traffic Control asked an Air Force F-16 to check on Monica Flight 69. Moments later, a laconic Major Always Gunned reported that Monica 69 was presently at 40,375 feet flying up side down. “Y’all won’t believe what I’m seeing through the windows of this here plane?”

Longbone cursed,” Shit, they have sent the sheriff up here to check on me. “ Stark naked, he crawled to the cockpit. He thanked Dumbshit for his minding the store for him, and righted the plane. It took several minutes for him to figure out just where the hell they were. “Damn prissy Air Force always did get in the way of a good Navy gangbang.” He got on the mike and hollered to the Air Force pilot, “Hey big guy, follow me in and come to the party we all are having.”

“Y’all practicing safe sex?”

“Air Force all the way,” Longbone thought.

Wanton Slut and Takame Anyway, the senior Flight Attendants, came to the cock pit door, both naked, and panting from recent sandwich sex. “Captain, we are running out of booze,” Wanton announced.

“Well, we will just have to make an emergency stop at Kansas City.” Putting the plane into a dive, Longbone flipped the mike switch on and sang at the top of his voice, “Going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. Going to Kansas City, Kansas City here I come. They got pretty little women there and I’m a going to get me one.” He was joined by four hundred and seventy-five happy travelers.

Watch out, United.

I’m Softly

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