Temporary Girlfriend: The Flight Instructors Ch. 02

I came again -- and again -- and again. The guys switched back and forth.

Dave whispered to me when he was about to take me in the doggie position, "Do you want to try anal?"

"Oh, yes," I pleaded. "I'm so wet, just take some of my juices from my cunt."

He did and soon his large cock pushed past my sphincter muscles into my dark cavity. We both moaned. Greg inserted a couple of fingers into my pussy and started to massage that area and my clit.

I came again.

"You guys make me feel like such a slut. I love to make love -- to fuck. This is such an unexpected treat. I had a fantasy one time about the two of you, however, it wasn't this good. More! More! Fuck my cunt! Make me cum some more."

Greg sat on the small sofa beside me. "Come over me, Megan. Put me in your pussy."

Dave pulled from my anus and I moved over to Greg, mounting him. He sucked on my breasts, probably giving me a hickey from his passion.

Then I felt Dave behind me again. Greg paused and Dave sank his cock into my anal opening. I think everyone moaned.

The two men started a rhythm, in and out of my openings -- sometimes in sync and sometimes juxtaposed to each other. I could feel myself heading for outer space.

I entered that special sexual space where all you feel is the pleasure surrounding you, in you, of you, with you, in every way imaginable. My eyes probably closed but I felt kisses and returned them from all angles.

I started to cum, however, it wasn't a regular orgasm where I peaked and then came down. I worked up to this magnificent plateau and then just stayed there basking in one long continuous climax. The cocks plunged in and out of me. I know I sprayed my girl juices but I didn't care.

I came and came and came. And then my lovers came as well, driving their cocks deep into me with ever longer and stronger thrusts; almost tearing me apart. I felt a unity with the two men -- a unique closeness. I felt their jets of cum fill my cunt and fill my ass. I didn't want them to stop -- just to keep cuming.

I fell forward onto Greg. Dave massaged my back. Somehow I found my way back to this universe, this planet, and the little plane that flew above it. My eyes fluttered open.

"That was amazing," I told them. Dave gently pulled away from me. I remained over Greg. Dave went to the small lavatory and used some paper towels to clean his privates and some of my ejaculate and fluids from his body.

Greg said, "Do you want to go?"

I pulled from him and said, "No, you go. I want to tease Josh."

"Ooooooh, Jooooosh," I called out as I sashayed towards the cockpit, holding my legs together to stem the exit of cum from my two orifices.

He looked around, "Jooooosh, wanna come and play with me. I'm feeling very slutty and I bet fucking three guys in the Mile High Club is some kind of record."

Josh looked interested but said, "You know, let's save that record for another flight. Make that one of your goals for next year -- maybe when you come back here for your annual refresher class or when we're flying my sisters and friends somewhere."

"Oh, spoil sport," I said with a theatrical pout on my face.

"But I will finger you cunt you little pussy, or is it finger your pussy you little cunt?" he said with a chuckled. I let him sink two then three fingers into my pussy.

"Oh, so nice," I told him. "I love you. Thank you for making that DP happen. That was special for me."

I waddled back to the lavatory, occasionally depositing a dollop of cum from pussy or ass on the plush carpeting. Greg and Dave moved aside to let me past. Both copped a feel of my breasts.

I sat for five minutes on the miniature commode thinking about the last half hour. I surprised myself that I shifted gears from flying to fucking so fast, and then to have the two guys screw me -- even DP me - in front of my fiancé; highly unusual.

When I thought the drips had mostly stopped I made a pad of paper towels and exited the loo to find my clothes. Someone had nicely laid out my clothing in the order I'd need it right outside the lavatory. I dressed, washed my face again then headed towards the cockpit.

"Thank you, gentlemen," I said as I pushed my was through to see what was happening. "Where are we?"

Josh pointed to a GPS map and said, "I think we're right near Mount Rushmore but the cloud deck blocks the ground. I'm aiming for Custer National Forest then we'll turn around. Do you want to fly?"

"Not just yet," I told him. "I want to nuzzle with my two lovers for a couple of minutes."

I pulled Dave and Greg back to the sofa and curled up so I could kiss each of them.

"You made me feel very special and I hope I gave you some thrills too," I said.

"I wasn't a member," Dave said.

"Me neither," Greg confessed. "Never had the opportunity."

"Well, now you are and I hope you never forget me. You made me really get carried away and I want you both to know that I'll have sweet dreams about this for a long, long time."

"So will we," Dave said.

We sat for about ten minutes and were just quiet together. We petted and stroked each other, nothing really sexual, just maintaining the skin-to-skin connection once in a while. I realized I'd still been pretty high sexually and savored the feeling as I floated even further back to reality.

Eventually, I moved up front and swapped seats with Josh. This time Dave took the co-pilots seat. We did a one-eighty over the Custer National Forest, occasionally seeing the sweep of the grassy plains below us through the clouds.

"Are you ready for some further questions -- about flying?" Dave asked.

"I am but cut me some slack at the beginning until I get my head back into this lover," I told him.

Dave started, "OK, Megan. On takeoff you hear a loud thunk and your gear lights show neither red, amber nor green; what do you do?"

*

Ralph Hinson might have been in his early forties and he might have been in his late seventies. I couldn't tell. He had a weathered look and somehow I felt it was more the latter than the former and that he'd flown every kind of plane known to mankind.

"Nice to meet you, Megan." He turned to Greg and asked, "Is the study room open? Unoccupied?"

"Yes, it's all yours. I blocked it out for an hour but just let us know if you want more time," he said.

Ralph handed me a felt-tip marker and said, "Tell me about the Yaw Damper System on the Cessna Citation."

Inside of me a little voice went "YES!"

An hour later, Ralph led the way back to the front office. He announced to everyone including me, "We're going to take a short flight to Amarillo. Megan, you plan the flight and file for three-three-thousand." I walked off to the flight planning room, checked the weather and filed a GPS direct route to KAMA.

Soon enough we were in November-One-Bravo-Foxtrot leaving the earth behind at two-twenty in the afternoon. I noted the time on my kneepad. I ran through the various checklists routinely.

As we topped ten thousand feet, Hinson pulled the throttle back on the starboard engine. "What now?" he asked.

I ran through my litany, pausing to ask he re really wanted a cold start at altitude or just pretend. He opted for pretending. I eventually pulled out the written checklist and orally went through each item.

Occasionally, Hinson would make a notation on a pad in his lap but other than that there was no feedback either positively or negatively about my performance.

As we dropped down into Amarillo's airspace, Hinson unplugged my headset for a few seconds as he arranged something with the tower. I guessed that he planned a missed approach at the middle marker to ILS Runway 4.

The ILS Runway 4 at Amarillo is not an easy approach coming in from the northeast. I got vectors to the eastern initial approach fix (IAF) and then had to fly a 14 mile DME arc around to the localizer. I'd been cleared for the approach. I dropped down to 5,300 feet once I captured the arc and carefully flew the jet until the localizer started to center.

I made a flawless turn to the localizer, rolling out exactly on the runway heading with no corrections required. I added some flaps and dropped the gear as the speed came in range.

"Megan," Hinson commanded, "tell me what you'd do right now if you heard a thunk but got no red, amber or green gear lights?"

I responded crisply. Was this a set up, I thought or do Doug and Greg just know Hinson so well they can second-guess his questions.

I intercepted the glide slope and ran through my final approach checklist. I called the outer marker to the tower: "Amarillo Tower, One Bravo Foxtrot is PANDE inbound." Tower acknowledged and confirmed I'd been cleared to land.

I bled off altitude at the accepted rate as we raced down the localizer. At least in a Cessna 172 you're going half this speed and have more time to think about what's going to happen.

Tower came on just as the Middle Marker because illuminated and the annunciation tone went off. I always thought of it like the doorbell, saying "We're here! Let us in to land."

"One Bravo Foxtrot, immediate missed approach NOW. Debris on runway."

I smoothly shoved the throttles to the wall as the jet continued to sink another fifty, then seventy-five feet towards the touchdown zone. I pulled up a notch of flaps and verbally went through a checklist. My hands flew around the cockpit as the 21,000-pound jet's engines finally bit into the air and started a positive rate of climb.

The engines roared as we soared back up into the sky. I took the plane up to 5,000 feet, leveled off and intercepted the one-one-eight degree radial from the Panhandle VORDME. As I entered the prescribed holding pattern, Hinson turned to me and said "Take me home. Back to Wichita."

I worked the radio with Amarillo approach and got us a new clearance to Wichita as well as a weather update. Hinson nodded, giving me the first indication of positive feedback since we started.

We shot up to about thirty thousand feet and almost as rapidly descended into KICT - Wichita. ATC cleared me for the KICT ILS Runway 1 Left approach. I had the approach plate already on the yoke.

Twenty minutes later, Hinson lowered the stairway on the large jet and walked alone to the Cessna Flight Center while I went through the steps to close up the aircraft for the day. When I was through, I gathered up my charts and my flight case and strode into the Center.

"HURRAY!" Everyone yelled, even Ralph Hinson. "You passed your type rating," Josh shouted. "You're jet rated!" A tingle ran up my spine and a tear actually came to one eye.

"Thank you all so much," I kissed Josh, Greg and Dave then on the spur of moment I planted a kiss on the stiff Mr. Hinson's cheek. He actually smiled.

Hinson endorsed my logbook and we filled out some forms for the FAA that he'd mail. I'd get another new license, this time with the endorsement "Multi-Engine Jet -- Cessna Citation Models 200/300/400/500." I leapt around the office hugging everyone as he did the paperwork.

Hinson finally finished and handed me my logbook back. I presented him the check for his examiner's fee and thanked him again. He tucked it in his wallet and started to head for the door.

"Mr. Hinson," I suddenly called out. "What about all your notes. What did you write down?"

He turned and came back to me. He pulled the yellow piece of paper from his pocket and presented it to me.

All that was on the paper were nothing but unintelligible scratchings. He'd really written nothing to do with my flying abilities.

Hinson shrugged with an apologetic smile on his face.

I looked at him with a puzzled expression.

Before he turned and walked away with a grin, he said four curt words, "Megan, you were flawless."

...More to come soon