The Pilots Conjugal Christmas

Mark stood at attention and held a salute as her plane rolled by, eight engines howling, brakes groaning as she tapped them once or twice and he looked back at her first time commanding a B-52. They were here at Baily AFB and she got the nod, so Mark brought their kids "Boomer" and "Daisy" and as she taxied by Deanna saw Mark and her babies waving. She couldn't take her hands off the yoke so she laid on the brakes making the plane howl and groan and Daisy said, "Mommy made the airplane cry!"

"No, that's just how B-52's talk," an explanation that seemed to satisfy Daisy because the next plane that came by was turning off the taxiway and onto the parking ramp and it groaned like it was being ripped apart, which made Daisy and Boomer laugh.

Deanna's co-pilot gave Mark a return salute then they both held up a fist with thumb and small finger extended to each other as the massive machine rolled by and sped out to the runway. It was almost 45 seconds before another bomber was ready to move, Deanna won big time! Once on the runway she shoved the throttles forward. Mark was watching the parade starting to move when her engines began to put out that ungodly bellow that the B-52H is known for, she ran her plane up to 100%, full military power and Mark panicked. Was she taking off? Were we going to war? Was this for real? He saluted the second plane as it rolled by and was relieved to hear Deanna's engines wind down and she taxied the 400,000-pound behemoth to the other end of the runway, 15,000 feet away.

A breeze was coming up as the planes came out of their parking spots, shrieking the whole way. The plane on Stub 3 turned and the breeze came across the intakes just right, the breeze across the intake caused a suction and he had a couple engines "compressor stall." They announced their displeasure with a loud boom! as the unburned fuel finally ignited.

Steve and Bobby came up to Mark as they watched the parade. "Danny got his ass run over."

"Was he standing in the hall watching?" asked Mark.

"Nah he was coming down the tunnel, lollygagging like he always does, and some scrawny captain leveled him then stepped on him. That captain had to play some ball," said Bobby as the fourth plane rolled past them. "Caught Danny with a shoulder and BAM! Danny was flat out bein' used as a door mat.

"Fuck you man," groaned Danny as he approached, "I didn't see her coming!" he grinned, "Nice ass though.... What!" He saw Mark glaring at him.

"That was Mark's wife," whispered Steve with his arm around Danny's shoulders.

"No shit?" Danny cried.

"No shit," said Mark. "Now you have something to remember as you pull your pecker tonight." And he turned back to watch the howling parade. As the last B-52 rolled onto the runway, Mark said, "let's go eat. There won't be any officers to interrupt us." They went back into the alert shack for a chicken parmigiano lunch that couldn't be beat. The planes came back taxiing nose to tail like an old school Circus parade and the young bomb loaders watched the Elephant Walk from the comfort of the Alert Pad chow hall.

It takes a long time to put the bombers back on spot. Mark waited until he heard they were all "Code 1" from the flightline supervisor meaning nothing was broke, kind of a rare status for a B-52. Once he heard that the weapons crew wasn't needed, they hopped back into Hound Dog 3, hooked up the toolbox and headed back to building 579.

For her part Deanna was overjoyed, she always said she had the best crew and being #1 on the runway with just a little bit of chicanery was amazing. The new wing commander called out her crew for their performance. "She caught a ride with maintenance!" complained another crew member. Immediately the malcontent was booed down, but the Wing Commander stifled the complaining with a raised hand.

Colonel Lars Gulbrandsen shrugged. "That was wise on Captain Ingler's part, looking out for the health of her crew... maintenance has the best heaters in their trucks." Now the malcontent was the butt of the joke, but Colonel Gulbrandsen continued. "Unfortunately, tomorrow is Christmas Eve. We will have turkey with all the fixings for Christmas day, sadly all we have for Christmas Eve dinner is steak and shrimp..." the cheering returned.

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A warm humid front pressed up the central plains and collided with the frigid jet stream that was sitting over the Montana prairie bringing warmer temperatures with heavy snows and Bailey AFB was caught in the maelstrom. Snow began piling up faster than had been seen in decades. The base snow fighting teams fought to keep the runway and taxiways open, but it looked for sure like Rudolph was going to be leading Santa's sleigh.

The gaily decorated Munitions Control room was quiet, Major Tanaka sent everyone with a family home and the single people would run the control room until Monday December 27. Christmas music played softly in the background as TSgt Julissa Prouse erased the complete work orders from the SRAM Maintenance section of the big plexiglass status board. "What do you want for Christmas, Ayato?" she asked.

"Global warming," said Major Tanaka.

"That's it?" she said chuckling. "I can do that. Anything else?"

Knowing that they were alone in the control room he grinned. "I wouldn't mind the Bomb Loaders dream, a nymphomaniac with a million dollars and a bar."

She knew he would say that which is why she asked. They had both quietly gone to base personnel and started the paperwork to retire, they would be done soon. She will be a civilian on July 1, and he will be Mr. Tanaka on August first. She turned and walked over to where he was standing, completely unaware that there was a sprig of mistletoe above his head. She walked up to give him a kiss, but he took her in his arms and gave her a kiss of shocking passion. For a long minute they stood passionately entwined, tongues dancing together in rhythm with their hearts. Finally, when they broke off their kiss he gave her his inscrutable grin, the grin she fell in love with. "Beware Japanese men under the influence of mistletoe."

"I found a bar," she whispered.

Just then the door buzzer snarled, shattering the moment. She looked at the closed-circuit TV and saw that it was Tex, Mark Hammond, at the door. Julissa sighed and reached under the corner of the Senior Controllers desktop and buzzed him in. "Ho, ho, ho, y'all," said the lanky Texan.

Julissa was terrified that she was blushing, so she turned her back on Mark and went back to erasing completed work orders on the bomb dump status boards, but Major Tanaka didn't show a twinge of guilt or embarrassment. "What brings you here, Tex?" asked Major T.

"Final update," said Mark as he went over to the flightline status board. "Balls Four is in the washrack, and balls thirty-three starts Phase Inspection on Monday." He moved the two aircraft tags to their new positions and turned to the weapons loading board and reviewed the work orders. "Complete, complete, on hold, complete," he said as he checked the work orders off with a bright orange China marker.

"When were they completed?" asked Julissa without turning around.

"Hell if I know, let's say fifteen hundred." He wrote a phone number on the board, "I'm on call but I have a dinner date tonight, I'll be at this number tomorrow morning, Polo is covering for me tonight. Nothing is going to come up, they're going to close the flight line."

"Are you sure?" asked Major T.

"Have you been outside lately?" asked Mark as he zipped up his parka. "Be careful going home."

As soon as the door slammed closed behind him, Ayato Tanaka turned to Julissa and asked, "Where is our bar going to be?"

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Deanna sat by herself in the Alert Pad chow hall eating the salad that came with dinner while looking out the window at the snow swirling down from the sky, it's really starting to pile up. Her steak and shrimp glared at her, daring her to eat it. Sadly no one was sitting with her making her feel lonelier than ever, she's usually more popular than that. Normally, her co-pilot Marty Johnson would sit with her, and they'd go over something business related, or he'd show her new pictures of the baby, but he's sitting with a couple of the guys from BJ Hartley's crew. Finally, a shadow appeared next to her. "Is this seat taken ma'am?"

She almost didn't hear him; she was listening to Johnny Mathes crooning her favorite Christmas songs and feeling lonely. She didn't look up, but she glanced at the hand holding a tray, the cuff of the sleeve told her that the tray carrier was wearing BDUs, the camouflaged Battle Dress Uniform, not a flight suit. probably an aircraft crew chief wanting to sit with the chick. "No, go right ahead."

He sat down and was quiet for a while, but it didn't last. "Are you ok, ma'am? you haven't touched your steak."

"Oh, I uh..." she stalled looking for the words. "I don't know."

"I hate being alone on Christmas also."

She nodded but didn't look up from her plate. It wasn't appetizing looking and she probably wasn't going to eat it. Then she heard him set something on her tray. She looked... it was a bottle of Texas Pete Hot Sauce, something you have to smuggle into the chow hall, no matter how good the cooks. Texas Pete wasn't something the chow hall stocked. Mark turned her on to that hot sauce when they met in basic training. 'Us Texans gotta stick together,' he said back then. 'I had my folks send me some.' Finally looking up she realized that her husband was sitting across the table from her, giving her that smile, and her crew was sitting to her right laughing uproariously.

"Merry Christmas Eve, Blondie," Mark said with a grin.

"You son-of-a-bitch," she said laughing, trying to hide her tears. They leaned across the table and kissed as the men of the 8th Bomb Squadron the Hounds of Hell, 360th Bombardment Wing [Heavy] hooted their approval.

"Sergeant Hammond!" called out bomber squadron commander Lt. Colonel Bret Westcott, "I said you could dine with my pilots; I didn't say you could eat one." His remark brought a good natured "Whoa!" from the assembled air crews.

Lt. Colonel Westcott caught Mark and Deanna making love in a cockpit last year and didn't realize they were married and blew a gasket, but they never held it against him and never told anyone, and Colonel Westcott has been eternally grateful. He called the weapons loading office and invited Mark to come out to the alert pad and have dinner with Deanna as a reward for her performance during the elephant walk.

Suddenly her steak was looking pretty tasty. A little Texas Pete along with the A1 and it was about as good as a chow hall steak was going to get on Christmas Eve in a bomber alert facility. The talk in the chow hall was about how Deanna was able to get her plane moving first, also how she got to level a one stripe airman in the tunnel on the way to her plane. "What's so funny?" she asked Mark who was dying, trying not to laugh.

"Ask me later."

"No, tell me now, I want to hear."

"Ok, the kid you leveled was Danny Sorola, from Steve's crew..."

"No!" she gasped.

Suddenly everyone was listening, and Mark continued after explaining to the air crews that Deanna knew Steve and most of the weapons loaders. "Steve's one-man Bobby said, 'that guy must have played some ball, he just dropped a shoulder and laid that kid out.' Then Danny said, 'that was a girl and she had a nice ass.' My man Steve puts his arm around Danny's shoulder and said, 'Mark's her husband.' He about shit his pants."

Deanna whooped with laughter and another pilot said, "No shit?"

"You should hear Major T. tell the story. He starts with 'My genius bomb loaders...'" Deanna was laughing so hard she snorted which embarrassed her, but Mark loves it and tries to keep her laughing.

"How is Ayato doing? Why don't you get together with him over Christmas, he's going to be alone too."

"No, I don't think he is." He waggled his eyebrows at Deanna, they had their suspicions about Ayato Tanaka and Julissa Prouse, but they didn't want to air their suspicions in a room full of frat boys. "Hurry up, let's go for a walk." She finished her steak, sharing the shrimp with Mark, then they got up, bussed their trays and grabbed their jackets. After letting the alert controller know she was outside they went for a walk around the alert shack.

It was warm, the temperature shot up to +3°. It has been -20° and colder for weeks and for a couple that have been living in northeastern Montana it was close to t-shirt weather. The snow was spiraling down from the sky, something that is rarely seen on the Montana Prairies, the snow usually blows in from the west and generally continues on to North Dakota. They walked hand in hand around the alert facility, the night sky was dark gray with all the lights that were on. Over on the runway the huge high-speed plows called "rollovers" raced up and down the three-mile-long strip of concrete, they would be followed by rotary brooms scraping the snow away down to clean concrete.

Even though they were surrounded by chain-link fences topped with razor wire, several high security towers were filled with security police ready to shoot anyone trying to cross the fence line. They knew they were being watched; they were the only things moving for the cops to watch other than the snowplows. Mark stopped her and they kissed in a shadow, knowing full well the cops with night vision glasses were going to have stories of the guys they saw kissing in the shadows.

After walking around the building twice, talking softly of their favorite Christmases, Deanna tugged him back toward a tunnel, but this tunnel went down, not up. Down was officer country. The only enlisted people allowed down there were the tail gunners and aircraft crew chiefs that were on alert along with their airplane. They had four-man rooms and bunk beds, the officers had two-man rooms with single mattresses and being the only woman Deanna had a whole room and a bathroom to herself.

The gang was upstairs watching It's a Wonderful Life in the TV room, downstairs Deanna was pulling her husband's BDUs off. Their lips didn't part as she pulled his blouse off. After twelve years of marriage, their two kids were both spending Christmas in Texas with grandma and grandpa, and they were still as hot for each other as they were when they met at Lackland AFB. For some reason their best sex was in places that Uncle Sam doesn't want sex happening. They've made love in all kinds of odd places such as Mark's dispatch van, the cockpit of a B-52, and on Major Tanaka's desk. They were sure that their son Rob was conceived in the refueler's couch of a KC-135 Strato Tanker which is why they call him Boomer and their daughter was conceived in their base housing flower garden which is why they call her Daisey.

With trembling hands Mark pulled the zipper down on Deanna's flight suit, slowly revealing her pale skin. Inch by inch he lowered the slider of her flight suit zipper and found that she wasn't wearing a bra. "Captain, it appears that I've caught you in a state of undress. What if you had to eject, you'd freeze your nipples off."

"I'm sure some kind soul would find a way to warm them up for me."

He pulled the slide further down and soon her athletic breasts were exposed to the night air. As his hand cupped her small breast and he gently squeezed, his free hand tangled in her blond tresses, and he pulled her head back for a kiss. Their lips met and they found themselves in a hot passionate kiss that took them back to their college days, hard and fast quickies between classes or running off to the flight line for a day of hard work before an evening of hard studying.

As their tongues entwined and their kiss grew hotter, Deanna turned Mark and pushed him back on the empty bed, the mattress bare without a sheet. His legs hit the side of the bed and he collapsed back onto the bed breaking their kiss suddenly. With a smile she knelt and one by one untied the draw strings of his green mukluks, unzipped them and slid them off, then pulled off the two pairs of heavy wool socks. Then she dove for his belt buckle and unbuckled that and began popping the buttons on his pants fly. Zippers are fine but nothing beats the thrill of unbuttoning a broken in button fly trousers. And nobody has ever pinched anything tender in a button fly, the same can't be said for a zipper.

"Lift!" she ordered, and he raised his ass allowing her to pull his pants down and off. "Lift again," she groaned, and he lifted his ass while she pulled down his blue pollys, the blue polyester thermal underwear that is a must especially for the flightline troops. Deanna has taken to wearing them when she's flying because a B-52 is a cold airplane. All that work, and he was still wearing his underpants. He sat up and pulled off his blue polly shirt, followed by his OD Green t-shirt, and now finally... "Lift," she called one last time and pulling down his drawers, his cock sprang free.

She stood and with a practiced shrug her flight suit reluctantly slid down her curves, over her round hips and pooled around her ankles, and she stepped out of it now wearing only her panties. Feeling particularly aggressive she pushed Mark back on the cot and crawled between his legs and began stroking his cock as she began suckling his balls. Mark groaned softly at the pleasure, this was his favorite, nothing beat the sensations that Captain Ingler stirred up as her tongue swabbed his balls while her hand stroked his aching cock.

Her free hand reached up and searched for his nipple and finding it she traced her fingertip around and around as she gently sucked one swollen ball into her mouth and made love to it. She knew that she could spend the night doing this and he would let her, as he enjoyed the easy thrills she incited, but she wanted to do more. She shifted up a little and now her tongue was tracing up and down the sensitive underside of his cock while her hand gently cradled his balls.

Mark rose up on his elbows to watch. He was heartbroken when she cut her long flowing blond hair, but she wanted it short to make it easy to put on her flight helmet, but that had a second advantage. She no longer had to brush her locks out of the way when blowing him and now he could watch a true mistress at her work. Now that luscious tongue of hers began swirling around his cockhead, and every now and then those emerald, green eyes of hers would look up and lock with his.

Her tongue tried to penetrate his meatus, trying to enter his cock, a sign that the best was yet to come. Deanna reveled in her husband's musk as she took his cock in her mouth. Suckling his cock's swollen head, she rapidly but gently stroked the shaft overloading him with pleasure and almost daring him to cum. Still cradling his balls, she began to take more of his cock into her mouth, knowing how much he loved this. Her mouth was rising and falling on his hardon, her tongue slithering over the thick shaft, trying to pump the cum out of him, driving him out of his mind.

Mark's head rolled back from the pleasure she was drawing out of him, she was incredible and he felt the tight ridges of her throat around the head of his cock as she strove to take more and more. It was almost too much, the pleasure of her tongue and lips was overwhelming and he gasped, "My turn..." the words she was waiting for.

He drew her up on the bed and pulled her up for a kiss. She loved it when the came out of his shell of a stoic Texan and took over as an aggressive man. He nipped and bit at her hard nipples just the way she loved it, then pinching and twisting her deliciously aching nipples he began to kiss his way lower. Deanna groaned and tangled her fingers in his hair and urged his mouth lower and lower. She arched her back and thrust her breasts up against his fingers as he began to kiss and nibble at her sensitive inner thighs.