Triked, Tricked, Trolloped

I felt the pod settle down as he got into the back seat. The back ledge would probably be a better way of describing it, higher than the front seat and so close to it that Brett's legs were stretched out on either side of me with my elbows brushing against his knees. Never again would I complain about the economy class seats in jet planes.

A moment later the engine started and everything began vibrating, as though I was sitting in a massage chair. That wasn't bad but even with the helmet on the engine noise was uncomfortably high. A hundred metres along the beach Jeff was standing still, holding his shirt up above his head. I realized that it was an indication of which way the wind was blowing.

My headphones clicked and I heard Brett's voice very clearly: "OK, Sandra, I've got the control bar now. You'll probably want to hold onto the sides of your seat to begin with. This damp sand will hold us back a little but we've got eighty horsepower pushing us and we'll soon reach flying speed. We'll take off about where Jeff is now. Is everything OK with you?"

I clutched the handgrips on either side of the seat and tried to swallow a lump of solid air down my dried out throat: "Yes, I'm fine."

"Good girl. Feet off the pedal bars and hands off the control bar for a moment or two. Apart from that relax and enjoy the views. . . ."

The engine roared even louder, the ultralight began moving, I held onto the arm grips with a death grip, we were moving faster, much faster, a small wave was breaking along the beach, toppling over into white water, Jeff was getting closer and closer, the vibration was getting worse - oh fuck, I must be mad to be here!

Suddenly the vibration stopped, the engine seemed a lot further away and I was looking down at Jeff's upturned face. Then the control bar was pushed away from me and the nose of the pod lifted up towards the sky as if it were a rearing horse. I couldn't help myself from looking down, to see the sea suddenly growing wider with the breaking waves along the edge of it like crinkled up tearings of white tissue paper.

"How are you feeling, Sandra?"

"Alright - I think."

"OK, we'll level out now, and fly straight on for a few minutes while you get used to things."

Getting used to so many conflicting feelings was going to take longer than that. In one sense I felt totally exposed, with only the finger thick vertical support bar in front of me and the wind drumming against my overalls, yet behind the helmet's faceplate there was a peaceful little world where I could talk to Brett without any effort at all. The wind seemed to be blowing away the noise of the engine as well, making a combined background noise which wasn't really bothersome at all. I suppose it would have been a miserable experience on a cold day without thick clothing, but it had been a scorching forty degrees down on the beach and the blast of moving air was as wonderfully cooling as Brett had promised it would be.

In another sense I was totally confined, by the straps, and by the control bar pressed close against my chest. In another way - a breathtakingly marvelous way - I'd never felt so free in all my life. Who hasn't been a kid dreaming of finding a way of flying like a bird? Not being shot through the sky miles high watching old movies, but real flying, down around the tree tops and hurdling over hilltops with giant's steps, being able to lift your eyes up to the distant horizons or down to something so close you feel you can reach out and touch it. Of course we've all felt like that, and most of us have grown up and forgotten the dream. And now, suddenly and totally without expecting it, I was living my dreams for real.

Out on my left were kilometres and kilometres of trees, and an occasional movement of something brightly coloured scuttling underneath them. I was catching glimpses of the coastal highway between the tall trunks, or at least of the cars driving down it. On the right I could now see through the top of the sea, to dark patches with green stains behind them. It was puzzling until I realized that the dark patches were rocks just under the water with patches of seaweed growing where they were protected from the waves by the rocks. It seemed so strange that an area I thought I knew quite well looked so different from up here.

"How do you feel now, Sandra?"

"Pretty good." I was surprised how calm I sounded.

"Not frightened?"

I thought about how to answer: "Yes, but I'm too busy looking around to think much about it."

His chuckle came through the earphones: "Good answer. OK, we'll turn around now and fly back over your husband. Give him a wave to let him know you're OK and then we'll head for Kilkenny Ponds."

The turn was indeed frightening, at first, with the wing dipping over and the pod skidding around. Then I forgot about it as we dived back over the Suzuki and Jeff and I exchanged waves. Then another turn, but not so stomach churning now I had some idea of what to expect.

Brett started singing over the intercom.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh. . . OK, Sandra, we'll go up higher now and follow the coast for a while. There's something on the other side of the next headland I saw just before I landed that might interest you."

When we went over the headland I looked down the sheer drop of a cliff face to where the sea was continually slapping against the land, and felt only curiosity at the odd feeling of looking down at birds flying, the stiff winged gulls whirling and turning along the cliff as if they were scraps of paper caught inside a willy-willy. Somehow it seemed that the height wasn't bothering me, which was the last thing I'd expected.

"There you are, Sandra, down on the right. That's something you don't see ever day, not even up here."

We were passing over the headland on the other side and where Brett was telling me to look was down in a corner of the sea between the cliffs and the beach. Something was moving in the shallow water, a shimmering cloud continually changing shape and flickering with sudden sparkles. Running in and out of the cloud were dark lean shapes which seemed to cut passages through it by their mere presence, the tiny individual slivers of silver which made up the cloud constantly closing ranks again behind the intruders as they moved on.

"What's happening down there, Brett?"

"It's sharks feeding off a school of sardines. Is school the right word for sardines? Or should it be a can of sardines?"

I laughed and he laughed with me.

"Hey, Sandra, check out that boat ahead."

There was a high topped cabin cruiser anchored off the beach, a kilometre or so ahead. I thought how odd it was that the crew should be so close to a bunch of sharks in a feeding frenzy and not even know about it, while we could see so much more merely by being a couple of hundred metres higher up. As it turned out, I soon saw more than I'd expected, because Brett put us into other turn over the boat, and kept on turning, so the left wingtip seemed to be pointing straight down at the deck while the boat looked as if it were slowly rotating underneath us. It was an expensive looking boat and a couple were lounging on sunchairs at the back. They looked expensive too, in their own ways, he with his big pot belly, her with her blonde hair and good figure. It was easy to see these things because neither of them had a stitch on. Not that it seemed to bother them. The man casually waved his hand to us without moving from his seat.

"I told you there was something interesting here," Brett said. "She's nice but I'll bet she doesn't look as half as good as you would stretched in the raw."

I decided not to respond to that remark. I saw the woman stand up and look up at us, a glass in one hand, the other one also waving.

"Oh, dear, she's drooping a bit now. What about the guy, what do you think about him?" Brett laughed: "A real hunk, hey?"

"He hasn't got anything I haven't seen lots of times before."

The man reached out his hand towards the woman's bottom and began stroking it.

"Yeah," Brett continued: "I think the lady with the natural blonde hair could say the same thing. I suppose we'd better leave them in peace now." The control bar flicked over to one side to bring us out of the turn and the boat was whirled away out of my vision.

"OK, Sandra we'll go along the beach for a couple more kilometres, climb a bit, then turn right. We'll be going along a valley with a lot of cleared land that's used for grazing cattle. I wouldn't want to be low over the forest if the engine suddenly quit for any reason. Even a trike needs a little bit of space to land in."

Trike - he'd used that word before. I supposed it was because of the three wheels underneath the pod. Again I could see more rocks, some of them sticking up out of the sea in streaks of white water, and then a small figure on a blue and white motorbike driving along the beach. The trike's nose twitched up, and when we passed over the motorbike it was dwindling in size as we climbed higher. So many times I'd heard bike riders talking about the wonderful feeling of the wind in their faces as they rode their machines and now I understood what they were talking about, but in a way that no earthbound rider could ever understand. Compared to a sky trike, a Harley-Davidson as a freedom machine was just a very efficient device for turning fuel into noise.

"Sandra, Eddie, says he'll be on his way in about ten minutes."

"What? What did you say, Brett?" I'd been staring down at the coastal highway and a queue of cars held up behind a slow moving semi-trailer.

"Well, to tell the truth, I have my mobile phone with me when I fly, plugged into the radio communications circuit. There was no point in trying it down on the beach, it wouldn't have worked any better than yours did. But we're fifteen kilometres closer to Kilkenny Ponds now and mobiles use line of sight radio waves, so the higher up you are the more range they have. I got through to Eddie first try and told him exactly where your husband is stuck."

"I didn't hear anything," I said. This all sounded pretty suspicious to me.

"No, I thought it would simplify matters if I cut you out of the circuit. Anyway, he said to tell you that he'd phone the hospital and let them know you wouldn't be coming in today - oh, yeah, and he said he'd make sure he set his VCR up to tape 'Red Dwarf' for Jeff in case they were late back."

I turned all this over in my mind. One thing was sure, Brett must indeed have talked to Eddie to know what Jeff's favourite TV comedy programme was. It certainly hadn't been mentioned on the beach. On the other hand: "Why would Eddie tell the hospital that I'm not coming to work today? We're going to Kilkenny Ponds, aren't we?"

"Oh, eventually, yes. In the meanwhile though I've told your friend that I've got an engine problem and I've got to land on the beach again."

I was bewildered: "Have you got a problem?"

"I don't have a problem in the world. I simply thought I'd spend some time feeling your tits. As fair payment for the ride, you might say."

"What!"

"What!" he mimicked me. "Well, what you do first is to put your hands up on the control bar. Then I'll put my right hand around underneath your right arm and grab your right tit."

"No way!"

"OK, Sandra, then I'll have to find another way of amusing myself."

The next second the wing tipped over onto one side and the pod went into a horrifying spiral which convulsed my hands into clutching claws on the seat handles as I screamed in terror. It was far, far worse than being on a roller coaster. Finally, at long last, Brett stopped throwing the plane around.

"Now, Sandra, before I ask you again, I'd like you to look up to where the support bars are attached to the wing. You see that bolt there? That's called the Jesus bolt, because that's what both of us will be screaming if it breaks and we drop off the wing. Now, which would you rather have, some more strain imposed on the Jesus bolt, or my fingers around your nipples?"

It was not a decision I had to spend a lot of time making: "I don't want the bolt to break." I said breathlessly.

"Fine. An excellent career move. Now put your hands on the control bar and sit quietly like a good girl."

I did as he wanted. Immediately his hand slipped around my body and touched the side of my right breast. It seemed to be as far as he could reach and it served him right - let him be as sick as a dog with frustration. I looked down at the pattern of fields and dirt roads below and practiced what I was going to say to the two timing shit once we were safely back on the ground.

"You know, you're the first girl I've had in that front seat who's got boobs so big I can't reach them properly from the back." Brett sounded proud of the fact. "I knew you were something special when I saw you from the air for the first time. I've just got to get my hands on them properly."

"Brett, I'm a married woman," I protested.

"That's OK, I'm not going to steal you from your husband, I'm just going to borrow you for a bit, like a library book. What the hell, you must have acquired a few dirty finger marks on your virginal white pages somewhere along the line by now."

"You're a real bastard, aren't you?"

"I'm sorry, Sandra, but this thing is bigger than both of us. Your things are, anyway. OK, what I'm going to have to do is to unfasten my harness and lean forward so I can really get a grip on you. It's no fun unless I do it with both hands, so you'll have to fly the trike. No matter what happens, you hold the control bar level and everything will be fine. Of course if you fuck it up I'm liable to fall out."

I was as mad as hell at his insolence: "Well, fall out then, you prick, and get yourself killed."

I could hear him chuckling through the background hiss of the headphones: "Sandra, have you really thought about that? I mean, if I do fall out, you're going to have seventy eight kilos of desperate man holding onto your tits like they've been held before. And even if you eventually shake me off it still leaves you up here on your own. How do you think you'd go at your first solo landing?"

"Oh shit!"

"Come on, Sandra, a nurse shouldn't talk like that, a nurse should be caring and gentle towards those in need, and I need you. But before we start I want you to unzip the front of your overalls and then pull up that tee-shirt so I've got plenty of bare skin to play with. I know you're not wearing anything else, I could see that on the beach. I don't know how I managed not to get stiff just looking at you then."

"Brett. . ." It was a forlorn wail of protest.

"Twenty seconds to get ready for me, Sandra. Otherwise we'll give the Jesus bolt another strain test."

"God!"

"No, I told you, just Jesus. Come on, let me see you doing something - or better still, undoing something."

I took my hands away from the sides of the seat and tugged at the zip until it was down around my waist. Then I struggled to free myself from the tight folds of the flying suit until I was back where I'd started from, with both of my tits hanging out, though held together tightly and pushed up almost as high as my chin by the narrow opening of the garment. Just to make it even more fun the zipper teeth seemed to be doing a good job of trying to saw both of my boobs off.

"Come on, Sandra, what are you playing around at? You've got an impatient man back here!"

"Shut up! I'm being as quick as I can. . ."

The tee-shirt was a tight fit as well, and as I clawed it up inch by inch the loose folds collecting up underneath my throat fluttered wildly in the wind. We were passing over a farm house, a tractor moving between the sheds like a picture on toybox. I hadn't realized how much higher we'd gone up since leaving the beach. It was cooler, too, even cold. When I lifted the last fold of my shirt up over my nipples the wind chilled them into a firming response. Brett was going to enjoy finding out about that!

"Sandra, surely you're ready by now? Or do I have to shake you up again?"

"I'm ready, you whinging bastard!"

"Both of them hanging out and bare?"

"Yes," I confessed.

He chortled with delight: "Don't worry if they're getting cold, I'll soon warm them up for you. Now, put your hands on the control bar and do your best to keep the wings level with the horizon. Don't worry, it's easy to do."

Maybe it was for him but I couldn't imagine it being easy for me. Yet when I held the bar nothing much seemed to happen, except we began wobbling more than before. I wondered if Brett was still holding onto the extensions. Then I suddenly found out for a fact that his hands weren't on the control bar because they were slipping around my arms. And this time they didn't stop until his fingers were cupping both of my breasts and making my nipples respond as if they'd been touched with live wires from a battery. Yet for the first time in my life I was being felt by a strange pair of hands and hardly noticing them beyond an involuntary bodily response. What was taking up the really major part of my attention was stopping the trike from toppling out of the sky, eyes flicking from right to left and back again as I checked each wingtip, desperately trying to keep them balanced against the horizon. In comparison to the difficulty of doing that having Brett playing with my breasts was just an annoying distraction.

"Aaah, that's nice. . . I never know which is best, flying, or getting a grip on a new pair of tits for the first time. When you can do both together that's magic. And when they're nice juicy water melons like yours, Sandra, that's a real bonus."

"Shut up, I'm trying to drive this thing!"

"Better do a good job then, sweetie, because if we pile in now in this position the accident investigation guys won't need any black box to know what happened. They'll put it on my tombstone - 'Too much cock in his cockpit'."

I couldn't prevent myself from giggling at that crack, which stopped abruptly as we hit an air pocket or something and the trike quivered like a puppy shaking off water. I squealed as the horizon dipped and began to slide around us.

"Don't worry," Brett told me calmly. "Push the bar forward - forward!" He emphasized the command by jerking my nipples away from me. It was quite painful but that was the least of my worries as I pressed as hard as I could against the bar. Things seemed to change, not that I was quite sure how, but we were still turning.

"Tilt the bar up to the right," Brett ordered, emphasizing the command by scrunching my right tit in his hand as hard as he could. I gasped and did as he wanted, until we were flying properly. Somehow we'd turned completely around again though, because the sea was in front of us now.

"Handling techniques taught with sensory input reinforcement - works wonders, every time. Hey, Sandra, you've starting some heavy breathing. It's about time you showed some reaction after all the effort I've put into getting you turned on."

"I'm frightened, not excited!"

"Like hell. I told you you'd look better than that sheila on the boat when you were stripped off and now you're wondering when it's going to happen. What you'd like is for me to land as soon as I can and then give you a good general purpose fucking - with another afterwards for luck."

He spread his fingers out as wide as he could and sank them into my soft flesh as I swallowed air again, just as I had at the beginning of the flight. I'd done it then because I'd suddenly found myself involved in something I knew I was going to go through with and now I felt the same way again. If we landed in a remote place and Brett kept pressuring me in the same places as he was now there was only going to be one outcome, because he was right, I was getting as eager to be laid as he was. Then he started crooning a romantic little seasonal number: