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Flight - Part 1
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Flight - Part I of II.
It was to have been my first supervised cross-country solo, with our final
destination: Lake Tahoe Airport. I was monumentally excited, because this
would in many ways be the culmination of a year's instruction, and
incredibly nervous, because it would put all of that year's knowledge and
skill to the test. Only the FAA checkride held a bigger reputation for
gruel, sweat, and tension. Rick would be with me only as an observer and,
when necessary, coach, to help me through the inevitable quirks of cross-
country travel which no book could truly teach. I would be the sole pilot.
But Rick WOULD be there. And that knowledge brought me a large measure of
security and confidence that everything would be fine; he was a consummate
pilot and instructor. But underneath all that, secretly, it brought me
a goodly amount of pleasurable excitement, for he was also without a doubt
one of the most desirable, talented, charismatic, sensual men I had ever
known.
It wasn't only his mature, elemental good looks: steel gray hair, coal
black eyes, and a lean, lithe form reminiscent of chiseled granite.
Buffed young hunks were a dime a dozen in my university environment. What
truly attracted me to him was his demeanor of perfect self-possession,
evident in the easy way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the way he
approached everything with such calm assurance. I was drawn to that
strength which only comes from life, because it is found only in those
who have lived life fully, something I have always aspired to.
It did not matter much to me that he was a happily married man. After all,
my attraction to him hinged not at all on his availability or lack
thereof. I had no naive expectations of romantic bliss, but learned to
simply enjoy being with him, sharing the thrill of flight and basking
in the sheer charisma of the man. When I was around Rick, my own vitality
and love of adventure stirred and quivered inside me.
And so my supervised cross-country solo SHOULD have been a grand adventure,
for me and this man I admired so much who made me feel so very alive. But
now the adventure had turned to a nightmare of unexpected and unavoidable
wreckage, and life was something not so easily taken for granted.
I thought of these things as I sat close to our small fire, trying
to keep the chill of oncoming night from seeping into my bones. Several
yards away, I could hear Rick searching the ruined plane for usable
supplies. Of course Rick would take care of everything, I thought. That
was what he was here for. And then I caught myself with a snort as I
realized that, capable instructor though he was, Rick had probably had
about as much practical training in plane wrecks as I had.
A twig snapped nearby, and Rick entered the tiny clearing, carrying a
small bundle. He sat down with a grunt a few feet away and began separating
his finds.
"Well, aside from the blankets and whatever food we had left, I also
found the flare gun and the first aid kit. Speaking of which, how's
your head?"
I touched the livid bruise on my right temple, left as a reminder of a
close encounter with the steering wheel during our rough landing.
"Throbbing, but I guess I'll live. You activated the ELS?" The
Emergency Locator System was specifically designed to aid in the search
for downed planes, something no one ever hoped to use.
Rick nodded. "So it will be a couple of hours before we're expected in
Tahoe, and a couple more hours before Medford realizes we failed to
cancel our flight plan. If they file an inquiry right away, and begin
a search, they should find us sometime tomorrow, before noon if we're
lucky."
I nodded bleakly and stared in the fire. "SHOULD find" seemed an awfully
bleak prospect at the moment, as bleak as our present location was remote,
as the woods were intimidating. I shivered and tried to suppress morbid
thoughts of wreckage never discovered, and bodies never found.
"Hey..." I started as I realized Rick had moved to sit beside me, and was
gently laying a blanket around my huddled and trembling shoulders. His eyes
searched mine and saw my doubts and fears mirrored there. "It'll be okay,
Holly, they'll find us, I'm sure of it." The confidence in his voice was
tantalizingly reassuring, but his eyes, coal-black and unreadable, neither
confirmed nor denied his belief.
Nevertheless, I felt consoled, somewhat, and tried to smile bravely, tried
to show a little faith that everything would be all right. Rick slid a
companionable arm around my shoulders, and I leaned against him gratefully.
We talked for a while, about nothing in particular: work, flying, life in
general...trying so hard to pretend that we were relaxed and confident, and
not worried at all about our immediate future. From time to time, we both
fell silent, and gazed pensively into the fire, pondering various things.
It was during one of these lulls that I became suddenly and acutely aware
of the strong arm around my shoulders, particularly the man attached to it.
I felt sheltered and protected, invulnerable to the uncertainties and
fears which lay just outside the circle of that embrace. The feeling was
not unlike that of being a little girl, with my daddy's love a bastion
against all the evils of the world.
That was the irony of it. Even as I told Rick what I was thinking, that
in some ways, he reminded me of my father, my actual feelings for him at
that moment resembled not at all those of a daughter for her dad. Which
was why his next words were also so ironic.
"Well, you remind me of the daughter I never had," he said with a chuckle.
And yet, as he said it, his hand drifted to the back of my neck and began
massaging it gently, even sensuously. I sighed and closed my eyes. His
touch felt so very UNpaternal, and despite his platonic, undemanding words
I could not help the tingling, scintillating feeling which sparked to life
low and deep inside me.
Suddenly, I found myself wanting this man I was not supposed to have with an
intensity which frightened and repelled me. I had always sought to respect
Rick's committment to his wife, but now his touch on the sensitive nape of
my neck fanned a hope I had no right to feel, and made a mockery of all
my magnanimous intentions.
"Is that why you've taken an interest in me? The flying lessons, the ground
school tutoring, everything -- because I'm the daughter you never had?"
A detached, impartial part of me heard the quiet, breathy, and evidently
aroused quality of my voice and was disgusted at my own lack of control.
When I opened my eyes and looked at Rick, I recognized with horror the look
of surprised revelation on his face as he recognized the meaning and the
emotion behind my words. I knew I had finally gone too far, voiced too much
of my true feelings just as I had already presumed to try to know his.
I bit my tongue and waited fearfully for his rejection. His face was so
close to mine it almost hurt me not to reach out and touch him. He looked at
me with a strange intensity I had never seen in him before, his coal-dark
eyes hard but otherwise unreadable, the reflection of the fire flickering
in them. Or was it something else? I could see the muscles of his jaw clench
and release, and, my gaze dropping lower, I noticed the tense cords of his
neck working spasmodically to swallow. I watched, entranced, at the point
where his throat disappeared into the shadows of his shirt.
I was still eerily hypnotized by his throat, anything but to look at those
hard, unyielding eyes, when I felt a soft, feather-light touch at my brow.
I shivered, closed my eyes, and felt his thumb gently trace the raw bruise
on my temple. But there was no pain, only soothing warmth.
"Holly, look at me" he demanded softly.
I obeyed, and lifted my eyes again to his. Fire still flickered within them,
but now it seemed more than just the reflection of the blaze, but as if
the life with which they danced was his own, and his gaze was heated, not
cold at all, and I wondered how I could have ever thought them so.
He continued to ever-so-gently stroke my temple, as he spoke. "Holly, when
I see this bruise and I think of how you got it, I hurt as if it had happened
to me, and I want more than anything to take back the pain, erase it, and
protect you from it. But --" he stopped for a moment, and when he continued,
his voice was even softer, but stronger in its urgency, than before. "-- but
believe me when I say that it is NOT because I see you as a daughter."
His eyes, now so revealed to me, spoke thousands of unsaid words of an
unquenchable passion, an unresolved conflict, and an unbearable pain. I
suddenly knew the truth of his feelings for me, and I was profoundly
humbled. The selfless part of me cried out in answering anguish, grieving
for the struggle within this man who wrestled with loyalty and desire. But
the secret, human, WOMAN part of me rejoiced, laughing with a dark triumph
and satisfaction.
Our gazes locked, his hand brushed down my cheek and curled slowly around
the back of my neck, the strength of it resting there, paradoxically
trembling, as we faced each other and waged our internal battles. With
held breath I watched the conflict in his eyes while he drove me mad with
the stroking of his hand upon the nape of my neck. I longed to touch him,
to make some move which would end this stalemate one way or another, but
I knew the choice had to be his.
And then suddenly his eyes softened into dark liquid pools of desire, and
I was falling helplessly into their spell even as we leaned towards each
other, his touch on my neck guiding me to him. We crossed the mere inches
and our lips touched tentatively, testingly. I couldn't stop trembling;
the combined circumstances of both nightmare and fantasy made real in
one bizarre night threatened to overwhelm me. For a frightening moment, I
could not decide which reality to commit to: to face the nightmare...
or surrender to the fantasy.
But Rick's lips caressed mine softly, his hands gentle on my face, and
the sensual lure was too strong to resist. With a tiny whimper I relented,
my lips opening to his questing tongue, and as my arms slid around his waist
my body melted against him. Rick kissed me deeply, passionately, and I
kissed him back eagerly. His hands roamed slowly over my shoulders, back,
and sides, and I matched him caress for caress.
When his hands slid up my sides and found my breasts, I arched my back and
bit his lower lip softly in approval. With his deft, sure touch he stroked
them, lifted them, and teased them until my nipples were each aching
pebbles and I was panting with need. I needed to touch him, to feel him,
to have him touch and feel ME, and not through the suddenly annoying
barrier of cloth that was my shirt. I wanted suddenly and desperately to
feel his hands on my skin. To this end I raised my own hands and began
unfastening the buttons of my shirt.
Then Rick's hands covered my own, and I looked up at him in surprise and
confusion. His dark eyes bored into mine, and in a low, tortured voice,
warped with conflict and desire, pleaded, "Why don't you stop me??"
I would have if I could, if I had had any willpower to deny the passions
raging through both of us for the sake of a more secure, uncomplicated
future. But the future and our lives seemed so very far away, so unimport-
ant, and I could not bring myself to say no. With an equally pained voice,
I answered, "I can't."
And then there was no stopping us. Rick resumed the task of removing my
shirt, freeing me to perform the same service for him. The blanket which had
been around my shoulders had long since fallen to the ground, and as Rick
slid my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders, he bore me gently back to lie
upon it. Then he covered me with his body, and pulled the spare blanket over
us both. At last, between the growing warmth of the blankets, we were pressed
together, bare flesh to bare flesh, from lips to hips.
I was in heaven. For the better part of a year, I had wondered what it
would be like to worship this man, and now I reveled in the opportunity.
With lips and hands I explored his lean body, tasting and touching him
eagerly. I loved the feel of his arms as they tensed around me, the
breadth of his back, strong and supple beneath my hands, and the masculine,
salty taste of his shoulder as I bit him gently. I found him perfect, and
told him so both with and without words.
Rick responded with unrestrained zeal, partaking of my body like a starving
man. His hands touched every inch of me with sure, unerring strokes, and
his lips burned a trail of fire wherever they went. It was almost as if
he had made love to me before, he seemed to find all of my hidden sweet spots
with an almost preternatural ease. With delicate fingers he teased the
sensitive skin underneath my arms, as his lips, teeth, and tongue did
exquisite things to my neck which made me gasp. Then he kissed his way down
my shoulder to nestle between my breasts, his hands gently kneading the
heavy flesh while he nuzzled the cleft between them. When his lips closed
around my nipple, my head swam with the pleasure of it. With slow,
deliberate flicks of his tongue, he sent me even higher, until the
erotic messages my tits were sending my pussy became so urgent I began to
squirm uncomfortably against Rick. My hips pressed themselves tightly
against his, and I could feel, albeit through two layers of denim, the
hard shaft which told me that my wanton arousal was readily matched.
Rick sensed my impatience and chuckled softly, then reluctantly abandoned
my moist tits and eased up my body to seek my mouth once more. As his
tongue plunged possessively between my lips to seek my own, his hands
glided down my sides to find the front of my jeans, unfastening them with
nimble fingers. They slid effortlessly from my hips, and then it was my
hands and my nimble fingers seeking to be rid of the final barrier between
us; his own jeans were efficiently done away with, he lay alongside me,
and finally, FINALLY, his naked leg was coiled intimately with mine, and I
could feel his smooth, rigid cock sliding hotly against my hip.
I turned to my side to face him and pressed myself close, my hands quickly
taking advantage of the opportunity to explore his body below the waist as
well as above. With one hand I stroked the contours of his chest, my finger-
nails delicately raking the tender skin of his nipple, and with the other,
tested the tense muscles of his ass, flexing powerfully underneath my touch.
Our lips were still locked in a searing kiss of infinite duration, and as
I touched him, I learned to guage his response by the pressure of his
tongue against mine. When I stroked his chest, shoulders, and lower back,
his tongue surged powerfully against mine, as if he were drinking pleasure
directly from my own mouth. But when I teased his nipples with one hand
and ran the fingertips of my other hand down the sensitive crack of his ass
to hover delicately around his tightened sphincter, his tongue fluttered
hesitantly against mine, his lips quivering, as my touch became the source
of his pleasure.
And when my questing hand circled his hip to close deftly around the girth
of his cock, his tongue withdrew entirely from the heat of my mouth as his
head jerked back abruptly and he groaned. With sure, practiced strokes I
caressed his shaft, pulling gently from base to tip in a motion reminiscent
of milking. Indeed, before long several drops of precum had obligingly
dribbled from the tip of his penis, and with my thumb I massaged them into
the sensitive underside of the glans, at the same time gently pinching and
twisting the hard nubs of his nipples.
Rick shuddered and moaned with pleasure against me, and for a brief moment I
thought he might actually come in my hand. Instead, he placed his hands on
my shoulders and pushed me gently away from him, then rolled on top of me
to cover my body with his own. I smiled with triumph and anticipation as he
fit himself between my welcoming thighs and poised there, his body resting
on his elbows, as he secured the blanket warmly around us, trapping the
scorching heat of our bodies. I gazed at him in wonder and stroked his lean,
perfect chest and shoulders with my hands, unable to relinquish the feel of
his strength underneath taut skin. His eyes burned down at me and again I
could feel his trembling as he held back, waiting for some signal, still
needing permission and understanding.
I put all of the love, all of the desire that I felt for him, in my eyes
for him to see, trusting him to read there the words that would never be
said between us, and gave a slight nod. With an anguished groan, he pressed
the blunt strength of his cock at the humid entrance to my pussy and surged
forward, filling me in an instant, more completely than I had thought
possible. Our soft cries of pleasure echoed together through the cool air
around us, exultant in the feel of our bodies possessing each other so
utterly.
With exquisite gentleness, he gathered me in his arms, holding me close as
he slowly began to thrust in and out of me, a rhythm so slow and controlled
it belied all of the tumultuous passions flaring higher inside of us. With a
soft moan I wrapped my legs around his buttocks and tried to urge him to
a greater pace, my entire body aching for release, but still he held me
as if I were as fragile as a spring blossom, sliding in and out of me with
soft, stirring strokes.
Soft and stirring indeed. My body wanted more, much more, as much as he
could give me. I was used to quicker lovers, used to being literally
driven to orgasm, quick and bright and brief. But even as I parted my lips
to beg for more, my body began responding to the slow pace in a way I had
never felt before. The pleasure washing through me, outward from my pussy
with each patient stroke of his cock, was warm and slow, even luxurious, and
seemed to build up inside me layer by layer, until it was so thick and
enthralling that my head swam with it.
It filled me, and consumed me, and welled up inside to burst from me
as a soft, wild cry of ecstasy as I came, and came, and came. Not intense
and transient, but powerful and eternal, or so it seemed. Every muscle of
my body arched sinuously, singing with unbearable pleasure, and I clutched
Rick's body with everything I had, my arms curling convulsively around his
shoulders, and my cunt spasming orgasmically around his shaft, holding it
possessively inside me as I rode out wave after wave of pleasure. I pressed
my face into his neck and sobbed with release.
Rick was incredible. He held me tightly, his cock buried deep inside me,
still hard and throbbing, and shuddered with the cost of his control as
my pussy tried its best to drag out an answering orgasm from him. As I
at long last subsided into a heap of sweaty exhaustion in his arms, he
stroked my hair with trembling hands, pushing damp strands from my brow
and gazing steadily into my eyes. He kissed me tenderly, passionately,
deeply, his tongue as strong and forceful as the rest of him. He kissed my
neck, and whispered into my ear. "You're so beautiful Holly...so beautiful,
and so strong..."
I took his face in my two hands and looked at him plaintively. "Yes," I
responded hoarsely, "I am strong. Rick, for God's sake, please, I won't
break..." His sound was part chuckle, part groan, and his cock was already
moving inside me again, all gentility forgotten. This time, he drove into
me with a grim purpose, with long, pounding strokes which drilled deeply
into me, punching through whatever facade of restraint was left.
It was like being caught up in a maelstrom, his passion was so intense,
and so violent; Rick was both the storm that buffeted me and the anchor
to which I clung. He bent his head and laid into me with an intense
single-mindedness, his cock pistoning in and out of me at a feverish pace
which racked my bones. And all I could do was hold on, just hold on, with
my fingers buried in his damp hair and my body absorbing every blow with
relish. Even challenged by Rick's almost cruel pace, I could not get
enough of him, and my body strained against him with a need equal to his
own.
A low, barely-audible moan signalled his approach to his own orgasm,
as did the shortening and quickening of the bruising strokes of his cock
into my cunt. And then he grabbed my hips, slammed into me with everything
he had, and came with a vengeance. Rick gritted his teeth and threw his
head back; my eyes were level with the straining, bulging cords of his
throat as he moaned loudly in release. His cock spasmed and throbbed inside
the tight channel of my pussy, and I could almost feel the force of his
ejaculate as it splashed against my cervix.
Now I did for him as he had done for me when I had experienced my own
shattering orgasm. I held his trembling body close to mine and stroked
his hair, dripping with sweat, away from his forehead. My hands caressed
his body soothingly, gently calming the tremors which wracked him until
his breathing eased and he lay quietly in my arms.
We lay together for some time, saying nothing, simply touching each other
with languid curiosity, enjoying each other's presence and feel. After a
while, the lassitude of the freshly-sated stole over us both, and with an
unspoken, mutual agreement, we curled up against each other and slept.
***
End of Part I.
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