Off To a Rough Start

"Come here," I said, rising and taking her hand. "I want to hold you in my arms tonight. I promise I'll behave."

I led her to the bedside and drew down the sheets. Pam crawled in and adjusted her two pillows. I turned out the lights and settled into the opposite side. She wordlessly scooched close to me. I ran my fingers slowly through her hair, stroked her shoulder, hip, and thigh. She was out within minutes. I kept my promise.

We were able to spend New Year's Eve and the following day together back at home. January was fantastic. The stars aligned in our favor that month, because the inhuman computers gave Pam and I schedules which were almost perfectly harmonized. We shared a total of fourteen days in two- or three-day chunks at home in Dallas, and eight stopovers in the same cities, sometimes even back to back.

Pam and I discovered we'd become "slam-clickers," the sorts of crew members who don't socialize as a unit when on a sequence's stopovers, preferring instead to go straight from the airport to the hotel room. There, they close and lock their doors until meeting for breakfast or the shuttle the following day.

The term is usually used as a pejorative, but no one needed to know why Pam and I were anxious to get to our rooms. FaceTiming each other was our priority. Despite whatever geographical distance lay between us, talking to each other was our respite from the hustle-bustle, and the calls nurtured our spirits in ways drinks with relative strangers never could. Besides, there's not much to explore in Fresno. Or so I thought.

Fresno, California – Courtyard Hotel
Saturday, January 22, 2022 10:15 PM

I'm forty-five minutes away.

You know what they say about hotels. I want to misbehave tonight.

What followed was a picture which motivated me to get to the hotel quickly. I hoped the purser of my crew didn't hear the squeak I made or know why I was smiling so broadly.

I had to force myself not to urge the shuttle driver to speed. Since it was Saturday, traffic was thankfully light. Pam knew how to get my attention, and not just with words. The photograph was of a shopping bag sitting on the corner of a bed. It wasn't any ordinary bag, though. It was from Victoria's Secret.

My inner voice moaned, Oh, god!

Slam-click never sounded so good.

"I want you. Badly," Pam whispered as she closed and secured her door. She enveloped me in her arms.

"You make me crave you," I said, stroking her back.

Her first kisses were slow, soft smooches, as if she was asking permission to offer more.

She lowered her palms, and I felt one awkwardly bump my wallet. I removed it from my back pocket and tossed it on the nightstand because I didn't want anything interfering with her grasps of my ass.

I wanted her to sense my immediate arousal. I slipped my hands into her back pockets, bringing her hips tightly to mine. The flavor of her tongue suggested she'd been sipping wine. I held it gently between my teeth to suckle its fruitiness. Her hair smelled heavenly and was slightly damp, hints she might have just gotten out of the shower.

Her breath trembled as she removed my tie from my collar. I added a few inches between us so she could work the buttons of my shirt. Slipping my hands out of her pockets, my fingertips traced the seam of her shorts, feeling the warmth of her firm cheeks and the valley between them.

After she'd unfastened enough buttons, she slipped a hand inside, found a nipple through my undershirt, and made me quiver by stroking it teasingly. I kept one hand on her bottom but allowed the other to slip under her shirt to feel the soft skin of her back. It slipped easily beneath the band of her bra. My fingertips traced the subtle ridge of her backbone all the way down to denim.

"Unhook it … please?" she whispered between kisses.

I furiously wanted to. "Not yet. I want you to make me beg."

She leaned back slightly, her emerald-green eyes twinkling above a sensual smile. She took my hand in hers and led me to the bed. I sat and beckoned her between my knees.

When she stepped closer, I grasped her bottom to pull her into me, tracing my fingers up and down the seam at her cleft. She held my face in her palms and kissed me so softly it was as though her lips were feathers. The blissfully light touches continued until I pulled her lower lip between mine, lightly biting it. She mewled at my very slight aggressiveness and forced me to relinquish my prize by prying my teeth apart with her tongue. I tasted it with mine. She ran her fingers through the hair behind my ears and raked her fingernails softly over my scalp. I heard myself groan, and she did it again a little higher up when I offered my tongue to her lips in exchange. She'd undone all its buttons, so I shrugged my shoulders to lose my shirt.

Breaking our kiss but not her grasp, she stood upright and brushed her breasts over my chin. I placed my nose between the slight swells and inhaled deeply, becoming even more addicted to her bewitching perfume.

"Oh, god," I whimpered. "You are gonna make me beg."

I nuzzled a little breast with my nose as she continued to play with my hair, and I began to fall prey to my own instincts. Placing my palm at the base of her derriere, I insinuated it into the slight gap between her thighs. I felt her clench at the intimate contact. I was certain I was only an inch from her sex. Her muscles worked to maintain her balance as she started to remove her top.

"Wait!" I begged.

"No?" She paused as if caught in freeze frame.

"Not yet. No. Please. I'm enjoying … not yet seeing."

I was surprised I didn't lose it in my pants at the sight of her taut, lean tummy, so subtly lined with toned abdominals and a precious little emerald bar piercing the top of her cute bellybutton. The jewel matched the pendant she was wearing once again. She released the shirttail to me, and I slowly drew it back down.

She'd changed my mind. Twice. I wasn't generally a fan of tats on ladies, but hers was adorable and conservative. I also wasn't a fan of piercings of anything other than earlobes, yet the one at her navel was enchanting, reserved, and beautiful. I wondered what else I might be surprised by.

I kissed the slight swells of her small breasts softly, trying to find her nipples through her clothing.

"God, Mack," she whispered. "I can feel your breath."

I finally found the subtlest bumps under the layers of cloth. I ran the tip of my nose over both. They grew a little in their entrapments.

"Mack … baby … you're making me wet," she growled, and I knew what I needed.

I placed my palms on her hips and tacitly asked her to turn away from me. I then pushed gently forward for a little room. She took a step. I lowered myself to my knees and brought my face to her bottom. Starting at the belt loop at the center of her waist, I kissed her rump from side to side, all over, ever so slowly. I nuzzled into her, quivering.

"Pamela," I said, hearing my voice tremble, "can you bend forward a little?"

She looked over her shoulder at me with a slightly quizzical expression which then went almost Cheshire.

"You told me to make you beg."

"Please." I did. "Please, baby. Just a little."

"Okay. Just a little."

Only it wasn't. She moved her feet about eighteen inches apart, bent forward, and touched her toes.

I placed my nose where I was certain I'd be rewarded, and I was. Her feminine scents set me on fire. I could smell the glory of her sex. It was rich and exceedingly stimulating. I buried my face in the curves of her beautifully presented crotch as if my life depended on it. My erection strained painfully in my pants as I licked the denim, craving a flavor other than the cotton I tasted.

I inhaled deeply through my nose. The exhale from my mouth was long and ragged.

"Oh god, baby," she whimpered. "Your breath is so hot."

"There's something about you I haven't experienced in ages. Something about you makes me want to experience you with ten million senses. Your scent … god. Your …"

"It's okay. Tell me what you want to say."

I sorted through a litany of polite words … to hell with them all. I was done being shy.

"Your pussy smells so delicious."

"Stand up. My turn," she almost hissed, pulling on my arm.

I did, and she sat on her heels in front of me.

"Oh, jeez," she said when she saw the bulge in my trousers.

I wanted to cram my right hand into my pocket to adjust myself because I was a little uncomfortable. Instead, she took care of things for me. She placed her cheek against the tented cloth and gently, carefully repositioned my manhood without using her hands. As she had mine, I could feel her breath through the cloth as she kissed and lightly nibbled the length of my cock. When she nuzzled into the area between my thighs and exhaled next to my scrotum, I almost lost it again.

"I want you, Mack. Please. I'm begging now. Let me take these off because I need you to make love to me."

I wasn't going to argue. I only nodded. It required no more than a few seconds for her to unbuckle my belt and unclasp my trousers. She carefully lowered the zipper and slid them down to my calves. I heard stitches pop when I yanked my undershirt over my shoulders and head. I toed off my shoes so she could draw my slacks from my legs and the socks from my feet. When she looked back up, she discovered the head of my dick had escaped the waistband of my briefs.

"Oh lord," she hissed.

Placing her hands on my hips, she leaned forward again and softly kissed my glans. The sensation was exquisite. I'd kissed, tasted, and suckled those beautiful lips, the ones giving me different, even more incredible pleasure. The tip of her tongue dipped against my hole, and I had to count to thirty in my head to prevent the orgasm she'd surely cause.

She spent that time kissing my tummy and the skin of my thighs near the elastic of my briefs, softly nudging my balls with her chin. The interlude allowed me to endure it when she drew my underwear down and placed her mouth around my shaft. She fellated me for a wonderful few moments. I never held back a single grunt, moan, or groan, because I wanted her to hear my pleasure.

"Your cock is so gorgeous," she praised, studying it with her eyes and fingers. "Its scent … oh fuck. I'm tired of waiting, baby. No more begging. Please make love to me."

I didn't stop her when she pulled her tank off. The bra she wore was so sexy. It was an understated and simple cotton one which made it even sexier, the lower band printed with the brand from the bag she'd sent a picture of.

"Allow me," I whispered.

I ran both hands up the silky skin of her back to unclasp the garment. I lowered the straps over her shoulders and almost fainted at the beauty of her bare chest.

"Don't make fun of me," she whimpered. "I'll cry if you do."

Her alluring self-confidence disappeared. She'd raised her forearm up to cover herself. My expression must have made her think I was disappointed, whereas I was actually stunned into a stupor by Pam's remarkable beauty. Her words stung for a second. I felt pangs of anger toward anyone who'd ever insulted her. Her small breasts were mesmerizingly lovely.

"I would never and will never make fun of anything about you. They're … you're beautiful and … perfect ."

To emphasize my compliment, I drew one of her succulent chocolate-colored gumdrops between my lips. Again, her hands went into my hair as I nursed her tits. My hands traveled down her bare back. I slid them around her hips to release the button of her shorts. The zipper of the fly was shorter than I expected, but lowering it released enough tautness at the waist for me to push my palms inside her shorts and panties to grasp the warm, flawless skin of her haunches.

"Do that again," I begged when I felt her flex her glutes and heard her growl sexily. The muscles of her incredible ass went from gloriously soft and pliant to tight and firm, then back. I tugged her shorts down her hips.

I pinched the elastic at the waist of her matching light-blue cotton hip-huggers between my fingers and slowly drew them down. The style, like her piercing, made them so much sexier than lace or satin. The gusset held beautiful blots of rich lady-love. She lifted each foot as I removed them from her. I brought the body-hot cotton to my nose to inhale the fragrance of her wetness. My feral senses imprinted themselves with the aroma of my lover's aroused pussy.

She crawled onto the bed on all fours. Before she had a chance to recline, I acted like the animal she'd caused me to become.

"You bit me!" she yelped in a way I knew wasn't meant to be a reprimand, so I bit her other cheek even harder.

"Oh god. I'm yours, Mack. Take me. Please!"

"I can't. I didn't know⁠—I wasn't thinking. I don't have any condoms," I admitted, groaning in near desperation.

She yanked open the nightstand's drawer. "I didn't know what size to get, so I got 'em all."

I grinned wildly at her thoughtfulness as she thrust some boxes at me. I tossed two of the three back where they'd been. She watched with anticipation in her eyes as I unrolled one onto my length.

I pushed lightly on her lower back, and she adjusted her position. I parted her pussy's wet lips with my thumbs. In the next moment, I was, at last, inside her. I had to think of something to belay myself because the sensation of having only two inches in her pussy was almost enough to make me unload. Instead of risking an early ending, I knelt and suckled her inner folds to take in her juices. The little muscle near my nose sought my attention, so I ran my tongue over it, too.

She mewled into a pillow. "That feels so good. Do it again."

"Roll over," I suggested.

Pamela pivoted to her back and drew up her knees. I willingly obeyed her. I tongued her with long strokes, then lapped into her tunnel, drinking her in. I gave extra attention to her swollen clit. The contractions I witnessed a few minutes later, along with her throaty groans and growls, evidenced her first climax.

I stood from my crouch and re-entered her.

"Mack!" she yelped as I fully and deeply penetrated her. "God, yes!"

Her sheath was perfectly tight and perfectly wet. I repeatedly and firmly pounded our bodies with my hips and thighs. I wanted her to cum again. When she did, I shouted her name and emptied my balls into latex.

She scritched my back gently with her fingernails as I laid atop her, panting in absolute satisfaction and divine bliss.

"So … there's that, too," she whispered tenderly into my ear.

I remembered what she'd said after our first kiss at the simulator facility in St. Louis. My reply was only a slow nod against her neck and shoulder.

"This can work, don't you think?" she softly asked.

"Yeah. Definitely."

I slowly moved myself to her side. We looked at each other dreamily.

Her beauty astonished me. I wanted her to know, so I slowly worshiped her form by kissing every part of her. Her nipples were proud and hard, and I gave them a little extra attention. I did the same at her bellybutton and the puffy, furry pad of her mound.

"Lovely tattoo," I said once I'd reach her feet. I'd seen it dozens of times by then but had never brought it up as a topic of conversation.

"You like it?" she asked, rolling to her side.

"Yeah. It's really cute," I said, kissing it. I kissed the pads of her toes and foot, too.

"It has a story," she said, flinching a little at the light tickles my lips imparted.

"Oh? Give me a second, then I want you to tell it," I suggested as I stood and went to the bathroom to deal with the spent condom. She told the tale when I returned.

"I got it on my twenty-first birthday," she said with a giggle. "I was a little … tipsy? Yeah, I was a tiny-bit drunk."

"If you were so inebriated you decided to get a tattoo on the spur of the moment, how'd you choose this? It's so perfect on you," I asked, kissing it again.

"My mother implanted the idea. Decades ago. She told me how, when I was a little tot, I'd listen to mourning doves outside my window and coo back at them, even before I'd said my first words."

It made perfect sense, and I loved the beautiful art as much as the canvas on which it'd been painted.

"My kid sister got the same thing, for the same reason, on her twenty-first, too. Our ankles match exactly because our mother called us her little doves."

"That's so sweet. You have a sister?"

"Yeah. She's five years younger than me."

"Might I ask your age?"

She answered with a deep laugh. "I'll just say I'm a lot closer to forty than thirty."

"I'm almost smack-dab in the middle," I said. Yeah, so she was older. I didn't give a crap.

We ordered a delivery dinner and showered together. We were famished by the time it arrived. Noting the bruise from my love-bite on her butt, she gave me a matching one when we made love again. We were exhausted when we finally bedded down at four, both thanking our lucky stars our rousts weren't until late in the afternoon.

St. Peters, Missouri – The Grant Residence
Tuesday, February 15, 2022 5:00 PM

It was an unfortunate divergence in the scheduled lines between me and my girlfriend, and both of us were away from home and each other for the special occasion. We were, though, able to celebrate Valentine's Day before we parted.

Before I'd begun my rotation, I'd advised Brandi Grant I was going to be stopping over in St. Louis. She and Rob again invited me to dinner at their house.

There was an awesome Audi TT RS in the driveway when I arrived. I very carefully parked my rental next to it. After I got out, I walked around the other, admiring its sleek appearance. It was impressive to behold.

As soon as Brandi invited me inside, I saw her friend sitting in the living room next to an unknown man.

Brandi began the introductions. "Ryan, meet Mack McGarry. Mack, this is Ryan Quincy."

"Ah! Cameron's husband?"

"Yep," he said with a pleasant smile and handshake. "Cam told me how modest you are, so I won't bring up the fact we both consider you … well, never mind."

I laughed lightly at his aborted compliment, but appreciated it, nonetheless. "Thanks. It's a pleasure. Whose Audi is that out there?"

"His," Cameron answered with a groan. "Too flashy for me."

"I love that color."

"The color is why I chose that model. It's the only model Audi made last year with it. It's called Kyalami Green," Ryan added.

"It's good to see you again, Cameron," I said, directing my attention to his wife before the conversation had a chance to get too laced with testosterone.

"Since you're a friend of Brandi, I hope you'll consider me one, too. I insist you call me Cam."

I sat opposite them, trying to place the woman's face. Again, I found it impossible.

"Forgive me. I don't mean to stare. I swear I've seen you before. Is it possible you've been on a sequence with me?"

"No. I haven't. Ordinarily, I don't pay a lot of attention to who's up on the flightdeck unless there's a personal conflict or something, but after Flight 771 last year, I was curious, and I looked through my rostering history. Your name wasn't in it, and yes, I tried both Mack and Franklin," she said with a light laugh and knowing grin.

I felt a wee bit silly I hadn't thought of that idea.

"I suppose it's possible one of us might have deadheaded on a flight while the other was working," she proposed.

"Maybe," I agreed. "Again, I apologize. It's only been driving me nuts since I first met you last summer."

"Don't worry about it. I've heard things like that happen all the time, especially in our industry. My mother explained how it happened to her every now and then. After serving hundreds of thousands of passengers, she saw weird connections, too."