Fly Girl Ch. 02

The late sun sank in their wake as the Cessna droned along. Its altimeter indicated five thousand five hundred feet above mean sea level. The tops of distant cumulous clouds caught the setting rays and glowed titanium white against the watery eastern sky. As they dripped towards the sea the setting sun painted them fading shades of peach and rose.

Stephanie straddled Steve's lap and ground herself onto his cock. These little visits to the "Mile High Club" had become habit; the couple found reasons to make day or weekend trips at least three or four times a month. She relished her "airgasms," and Stephanie bore down on this one with a vengeance. The headsets lay on the floor.

She raised her voice to be heard over the airplane noise. "I'm . . . close, baby."

"Me, too," Steve told her.

The cramped cockpit barely allowed for movement. Even with Steve's seat moved back and lowered as much as possible they still had to balance on the inboard edge of the cushion. Stephanie pressed against Steve's chest to keep from interfering with the controls. The Cessna's nose porpoised up-and-down. Her nipples were sandwiched between them and the slight movement made her tingle from her breasts to her crotch.

Pulling up on the airplane's nose, Steve used centrifugal force to drive Stephanie's silken pussy down onto his hardness. Every time the airplane pitched downward the near-weightless sensations gave them a delightful backstroke. The Cessna bottomed out of a shallow dive and Stephanie felt Steve's thick tip press against her cervix. Her flesh swelled with the contact. Ripples of intense pleasure raced through her in waves.

"Oh, God!" She grabbed onto his shoulders and gasped in ragged rhythm as her body convulsed. "Ungh . . . ungh . . . nooow!"

"Yeah, baby!" Steve groaned encouragement as his cum pulsed into Stephanie's clutching depths. One of his large hands gripped her ass while the other pumped the yoke faster to intensify their climax. His shaft twitched as her slick walls squeezed tight in rhythmic shudders.

Afterwards, the airplane resumed level flight. Their labored breathing returned to normal. Steve shrank from Stephanie. Some of their broth seeped from her lips as she shifted to the right to the co-pilot's seat. They replaced their headsets.

Stephanie spoke into the microphone, "Damn, I'll never get tired of that! And those little wiggles at the end? Yeah, keep those. Whew, I needed that, Steven!"

Steve smiled as he zipped his fly and adjusted his seat. "Next time we'll try some steep turns. That'll get the g—" The overhead speaker interrupted him.

"Cessna two-alpha-alpha, Macon Approach. Leaving my airspace—" He flicked the audio panel switch from "speaker" to "headphones" and the sound quality improved. "Radar service terminated, squawk V-F-R, frequency change approved. For further flight following, try Jax Approach in ten miles on one-three-two-point-four."

"Cessna two-alpha-alpha, roger V-F-R. So long."

"That was close," Stephanie giggled into the intercom.

"Well, it's not like they're gonna see us, you know?"

She returned his grin. "But we might have missed the call." Stephanie freshened up with a light touch but the Kleenex stroked between her long legs still made her shiver. She donned her panties and smoothed her skirt into place. Then Stephanie fastened her seat belts and fiddled with the GPS.

"Twenty-five minutes or so till home," she announced

"Yeah, we can start down in about seven. You hungry?"

"Starved. Chinese?"

"Sounds great."

There was time to enjoy the sunset as it glowed in the tall, billowy clouds. The rest of the flight would have been normal, quite, even boring. Except for one thing. Except for activity in a clearing Steve knew from days past. Ghosts from almost twenty years ago.

He shot a quick glance in her direction, but Stephanie concentrated on the GPS display.

* * * * * * *

They shared Chinese at Stephanie's apartment before she felt her desire reawaken. But Steve acted a little reluctant. Even when she took him deep into her mouth, something he usually loved, something that stoked his need for her, it all seemed flat. His body was engaged, but his mind was somewhere else entirely.

She looked up from between his legs, her small hand wrapped around his thick cock. She stroked in a slow rhythm. He reclined on the couch, half sitting and half lying, and his eyes were closed.

"Is that good, baby?"

"Mm, hmm."

"What do you want?"

"Your mouth is great," he sighed.

"Then where are you?"

"Right here," he whispered. Steve's eyes remained closed but she noticed a slight tension in his legs as he answered.

"Steven, you're not really here."

He gazed down at her, deep into her face. His erection waned.

"Sorry, Steph. I'm just kinda distracted."

"I knew you'd grow tired of me—"

"Oh God, no! I'm—"

"I just thought it'd take longer than a couple of months," she baited him. Her hand cradled his softening member.

"Oh, no, Stephanie, I am absolutely not tired of you. I'm goddamned lucky to be with you at all!"

Her tongue circle the rim and he shivered. "But I'm not enough for you?" Although his answer pleased her, she could not resist messing with him a little longer.

"Oh, God," he breathed. The cock began to stiffen. "No, it's—can you stop that for a minute? Maybe we need to talk."

"Oh, oh."

"No, it's— Shit. Okay, here goes."

He had Stephanie's full attention. She stopped licking and stroking, but absently held his penis as she waited.

"Um, you mind?"

"What? Oh!" She released him. Steve tucked himself into his jeans and zipped his fly. "Come sit down, please."

She sat next to him on the couch. He looked right at her and took both of her hands in his.

"Steven, you're scaring me . . . ."

"Stephanie, I like you. I like you a lot. And since you've been with me I have been very happy."

"Me, too."

He forced a thin smile. "I know you think you know me, but there's stuff in my past that I'm not proud of—"

"Everyone has stuff like that."

"Please, this is hard for me. I haven't told anyone this for, shit, for years!"

She remained quiet and gave him time.

"Okay, so back when I just got my commercial pilot's license this guy asked me to do a flight for him. It was just a load of stuff in a one-eighty-two—"

"Next size bigger than the one-seventy-two we fly, right?"

He nodded. "So I thought, 'Cool, first flying job.' But I was young and dumb and didn't ask enough questions." Steve took a deep breath. "In those days, around here, there was a good bit of 'night traffic.' You know, stuff that no one talked about. But there were lots of—drugs—making their way around."

"You flew drugs?" Her eyes looked watery, hurt.

Steve nodded again. "Just once. And when I landed, I was handed two fifties and was told to take a walk. So I headed off into the bushes." Another deep breath. "I got maybe a quarter mile from the little clearing that they used as a runway, and heard all Hell break loose. Found out later that the guy who hired me got killed. Sheriffs' officers took him out. They were prosecuted later for running their own drug operation, so it was probably a 'turf war'. I was just so happy to get away that I kept my mouth shut. I was pretty sacred for a while, but I never heard from anyone like that again."

Stephanie squeezed his hands. It was the encouragement he needed to continue. "So this afternoon, when we were flying back, I happened to look down and saw that same little field. But this time, there was a plane on it."

"You mean that east-west strip about thirty-five miles west-northwest of here?"

Shock flooded Steve's face. His mouth hung open for several seconds. His expression appeared so comical that Stephanie giggled in spite of herself.

"Oh, Steven, I've spent a lot of time flying around in about a fifty-mile radius. I've seen that place and a couple more a lot like it. Besides," she told him seriously, "I'm not a little girl."

Steve closed his mouth, swallowed, and said, "No, I guess you're not." He thought for a while. "Yeah, it's that strip. I flew that one load into there and, 'bang-bang,' and I was fuckin' done. Haven't told hardly anyone about it since then, either."

"Well, I forgive you since it was before we knew each other—"

"Hell, it was probably before you were born," Steve interrupted.

"Shit, how old are you?" Shared laughter eased the tension. Stephanie squeezed his hands and turned serious again. "But I won't stay around if you do anything like that now. Got it?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

She gazed over his right shoulder without really seeing anything. Her brow wrinkled as Stephanie wondered, "Whadda you suppose is going on there? More drugs?

"Probably. Worked in the past, so whoever is there probably thinks it'll work again, you know?"

Her eyes sparkled. "We should go look!"

"What?"

"Don't you wanna know? I'm dying of curiosity, aren't you?"

"No, Stephanie. No. As in 'fuck no'!"

"Oh, c'mon. It'll be fun. Besides, how bad could it be?"

"How bad . . .? Did you miss the part where I said the bad guy got killed—by dirty Sheriffs? Shit, baby, it could get real, real bad!"

"Yeah, but we could fly over. They couldn't get us then, right?"

He knew arguing would go nowhere, so he pulled out two secret weapons. First, he placated her. "Well . . . maybe. Let me think about it, okay? And we can talk to Tom. He was around back in the day and might have some ideas."

Second, he kissed her. The tender touch of his lips and fleeting caress of his tongue stoked her desire. She grew impassioned. In a few minutes Steve had pealed off her top, nibbled his way to her thick nipples and left them wet and tingling. When he pulled her skirt to her waist and let his tongue explore the convoluted folds of her pussy, she grabbed his head and pressed him to his task. Her eyes closed and her breathing became labored. She forgot all about looking for smugglers. Her focus had shifted to the incredible sensations Steve's mouth created as he drove her to a powerful climax.

"Oh, God, baby! Oh, lick me. Yeees, there! Please . . . right . . . there . . . oh! Ungh! Ungh! Ungh . . . God! I'm cum-ming!" Her toned body pumped up and down on his mouth and her insides convulsed. Goose bumps spread across Stephanie's chest. The flesh of her areolas wrinkled and her nipples flushed a deep rosy color. She felt his large hands grasping her ass and holding her pelvis steady so he could possess her, consume her. It made her cum even harder.

After she stopped shaking Stephanie went to her knees and unzipped him. She pulled off Steve's pants and stroked his hard cock through his boxers. "Ooo, that feels so nice," she murmured.

"Mmmm, you have nooo idea."

She slipped the waistband over him and down his legs. "Yeah? But is this better?" she asked, surrounding his shiny tip with her lips. Steve groaned as half his length disappeared into her steamy mouth. She bobbed her head. Stephanie loved the way his rim tickled her throat before it bumped past her lips. She sucked him and worked his favorite spots with knowing licks.

"Oh, God, Steph! Oooo, that's—aaah! Yeah, babe." He sighed and ran his fingers into her curly hair. He adored the way she used her mouth on him.

When he grew large and hard, Stephanie climbed into his lap and impaled herself on his jutting dick. She pulled and twisted her nipples as she rocked her hips on him.

"You like this, daddy?"

"Daddy again, huh? Who's your daddy now?" he demanded as he shoved up to meet her. She felt his tips delve into her cervix and she shuddered.

"Oooo, shit! C'mon, daddy. Shoot your hot cum all up inside me. C'mon!"

They bounced and jostled together. She became wetter as Stephanie neared her release and he felt the young woman's dripping heat coursing down his shaft and balls. His tickle started.

"I'm . . . gonna—" he warned.

"Me, too!"

"Now?"

"Wait, I'm . . . almost—Oooo, now! Now!"

Steve swelled to meet her finish. She gasped and pinched the erect tips of her breasts. Her head went back, eyes closed, as she writhed in her orgasm. He held onto Stephanie's hips and pressed her into his lap. The clenching of her turgid flesh intensified Steve's own climax, and fiery jets of cream dashed headlong into Stephanie's throbbing pussy.

They collapsed together, panting, and held each other in their afterglow.

* * * * * * *

The Cessna bounced through the late afternoon turbulence at one thousand five hundred feet. Steve asked himself for the umpteenth time in the last half an hour what the fuck he was doing here.

"Isn't it over there?" Stephanie gestured to their one o'clock position.

Steve grunted agreement and swung the nose onto the new heading. In another five minutes they sighted the clearing.

The little plane rolled into a smooth turn and began to circle the area. The clearing looked empty, but as they swung around into the third circle movement near the tree line caught Stephanie's eye.

"There!"

"I see it," Steve said. One more time around—

Steve picked out a shape draped with a camouflage net. He stared hard until he was sure. It was a plane, all right. Difficult to see, but it was there.

Pop, pop, poppoppop.

"Sounds like popcor—Hey!"

"Shit!" Steve cursed. He yanked the airplane into a steep bank and dove towards the setting sun. His right hand jammed the throttle against the stop and the engine exceeded its maximum rpm, but he did not care.

Poppoppoppoppoppoppop.

From somewhere in the tail they heard a metallic crump.

"Fuck!"

"Steven, what's going on?" Stephanie's excitement had soured.

"They're shooting! I think we've been hit."

"What?"

"Well, you wanted to get a look," he told her. The airplane lurched as he maneuvered to throw off any shooter's aim. His eyes smoldered with a manic glow. "Guess they didn't want you to get too good a look."

"Shot? But, but they can't do that!"

"Can and did, baby!"

He pulled out just above the trees and continued west, then north until he felt sure the sound of the laboring Continental motor would no longer be heard at the clearing. Finally Steve turned southeast to take them home.

Stephanie remained quiet for the rest of the flight. He grew concerned and thought to distract her, to give her something that demanded her concentration. So Flight Instructor Steve asked if she wanted to fly. But Stephanie just shook her head. The only time she spoke was to call out distant traffic as they entered the landing pattern.

Except for uttering the word, "Shit!" as they inspected the ragged bullet holes in the fuselage—one entry and one exit—she kept silent.

"We're lucky," he told her. "It missed the stringers and control cables. A couple of small patches and paint, she'll be good as new."

She nodded. The holes were in line with Steve's torso or with Stephanie's head. She did the math in her mind. At the speed they flew, roughly one hundred thirty miles per hour, the plane covered about two hundred feet every second. The hole punctured the thin aluminum about six or seven feet behind the cockpit, and the wing fuel tanks. Less than one tenth of one second . . . .

Stephanie busied herself with the tie down ropes. Her eyes burned but she kept her back to Steve so he would not notice.

He went to find Tom and tell him of the damage but the terminal was locked. Steve used his key, left a note for Tom to call him, and turned for the ramp. But Stephanie had already finished with the airplane and walked inside. He caught the unfamiliar look in her drawn face.

She dropped her skirt and panties, reached for his belt and stripped his jeans off in a deft and quick motion. She spit into her hand, rubbed it over him, and got the reflexive response she wanted. Then she stroked his swelling tip up and down her slit.

He felt the intense burn of her cauldron. Stephanie coated him, thrust forward and slipped his tip past her outer lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hoisted herself onto his body. Pussy enveloped cock as her smooth legs wrapped around Steve's waist. His full length sank deep into her. Steve grabbed her bottom to support her body and guide her motions. Her smooth, perky cheeks felt so firm and taught as they flexed in his hands.

"Fuck me!" Stephanie commanded. She crushed her lips to his mouth and let her passion boil over right there in the lobby. Thick nipples rubbed against his chest and he felt them through the fabric of their shirts. She moaned and whimpered as she ground herself towards oblivion.

Being shot at triggered a response in her that she never expected. It scared her and it thrilled her and it revolted her and it aroused her, all at the same time. And right now she needed to feel someone, to get lost in lust and passion and pleasure, to fuck and be fucked. At the moment it was all she could do. All Stephanie wanted to do.

She felt her climax start and held him tighter. Stephanie bit on the band of muscle at his shoulder and whimpered. Steve let her weight sag, driving his swollen tip into her. His cream shot rhythmically into her depths, only to be washed from her and down their thighs as Stephanie's spasms caused her to gush hot waves of juices.

Outside, a Ford F-150 drove past the airport fence. Tom was going to meet his girlfriend, but wanted to make sure Steve and Stephanie, and the Cessna, had made it back all right. He thought he noticed a small blemish on the aft fuselage just behind the rear window. He drove close to the fence and drew to within a few yards of the parked aircraft.

It looked as though a dark, blotchy-shaped something had been splashed onto the Cessna's metal skin. As he pondered that, movement caught his eye.

In the gloom of twilight he saw a couple standing in the lobby. Then he realized what they were doing.

"Huh," he chuckled. "Good idea, guys." He turned down the road headed for the bar and Patsy's lush figure, hopeful.

* * * * * * *

Tom slid into a bar stool next to Patsy. She sipped a draft beer. He signaled the bar tender, who nodded, pulled a beer for Tom and poured gold liquor into shot glasses.

Tom leered, "You'll never guess what I just saw."

"Hmmm, a pink flying unicorn?"

"Nope!" He slurped the head from his beer, smacked his lips and sighed.

"Then how 'bout Steve and Steph getting' it on?"

He gulped. "And how'n the hell did you know that?"

"Oh, pul-leaze," she rolled her eyes. "I know the look you get when you've seen sex. Same look as when I dance for ya. Or when we watch one o' your dirty movies. I guessed you just came from the airport, and those two have been crazy 'bout one 'nuther fer months now." She tasted her tequila.

He stared at her for a moment, at her gray-green eyes and their tiny crows' feet, the bleach-blonde hair draping her broad shoulders, and her full tits. Tom ached to slip in and out of her cleavage until he coated her chest with sticky heat.

"Stop that!" she told him, chuckling.

"Can't help it, baby. You are so goddamn sexy!"

She patted him on a cheek. "I know." Patsy hoisted her beer, tapped her glass to his, and took a long drink.

"So, did you give 'em their privacy?"

"Yeah, but it's not like Steve to get some nookie right in the lobby of the terminal."

"Huh? Wow, they musta been horny little critters." She giggled.

"Yeah, I guess. Still . . . . And there was this, weird—thing—on the Cessna, too."

When Tom stopped talking to think, Patsy prompted, "Weird what kinda thing?"

"Like a . . . . Ah, shit! Like a hole. A bullet hole!" He looked around them to see if anyone might have heard.