-------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author (c)2012. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Take Me Higher by Dances in Clouds (cabinf@gmail.com) *** A young pilot takes a friend on an unforgettable flight. (MF, sex, mile-high) *** "Take me flying with you!" she said one day. We were friends, but didn?t hang out that much. But today, as she overheard me telling another friend that I was headed for the airport, she expressed an unexpected interest. It was hot, and I was needing to wash the plane anyway, so I suggested that she meet me there in plane-washing attire. I'd pulled the plane out to the wash area, and was already passing a soapy rag over its beautiful contours when I saw her walking across the ramp toward my plane and me. Clearly, she'd taken my advice. She sported a bikini top, short shorts, and flip-flops, and her eyes were hidden behind a large pair of dark sunglasses. A little smile adorned the corners of her mouth, and I surmised that her eyes were smiling behind those glasses. After getting an unexpected hug in greeting, I handed her a rag, pointing out the finer points of airplane washing, such as to not scrub the windows, push hard on the skin, or spray water into certain spots. She dove into the job with gusto, clearly reveling in the cool water on this hot day. I must admit taking more than one appreciative glance at the body barely hidden under her clothes as she moved along those graceful lines, and I suspected the boys in the airport office had noticed also. When the last curve was rinsed and most of the water had been wiped off, I told her that it was time to really dry the plane. I walked her around the plane, explaining each part of the pre-flight inspection to her. Occasionally, I would feel one part or another of her body brush against mine, and though I figured it wasn't intentional, I still found myself appreciating the touch. After we finished the pre-flight, I explained to her some more safety points, such as to never walk near the propeller when the engine is running, and how to get into the plane and close and open the door. The only door on the plane was on the right side, so that I had to get in first. My eyes followed her as she stepped into the cockpit and seated herself in the copilot seat. She fumbled with her seat belt briefly, then said "I give up; you do it!" I obliged, pulling the lap belt together in the middle, trying to ignore my hands? proximity to what I suspected to be a very luscious spot between her legs. I helped her put on her headset, and, after yelling "Clear!" through the open window, started the engine. I heard her laugh like a kid as the engine's vibrations shook the plane, and the breeze started to cool what had become a rather hot cabin. I brought the radios online, checked my instruments, and taxied to the end of the runway. I asked her to close and latch the door, but again, she quickly gave up trying and invited me to latch it. Still trying to at least seem gentlemanly, I tried to hide from her any indication that I was glad to have another excuse to reach into her side of the cockpit. We took off, the heat making the plane seem to take forever to get into the air. Her exclamation through the intercom of "Wow, this is terrific!" was my first indication that she was glad to be in the air. Once we had gotten to a comfortable altitude, I turned to her and asked if there was anything she'd like to see from up here. Rather than a normal answer like "My house," she surprised me with "Let's see how high this thing will go!" "Oh, we can go pretty high, but it will take a while!" I told her. "Good!" was her response. Well, I thought to myself, let's give the lady what she wants! I set the trim for a nice cruise climb, made sure the GPS was correctly programmed, and settled back. I explained the various instruments on the panel, how we tell our direction, location, and altitude. She was especially fascinated with the altimeter. "That's like a clock that only goes through 10 hours!" she said. As we continued through 3500 feet, she sighed, stretched, and then placed her hand softly but intentionally on my right knee. The touch of her hand on my skin surprised me, and while I didn't react visibly, I felt a twitch in my briefs. I stole a glance toward her, and found her turned toward me, glasses no longer hiding her eyes. When she caught my eye, she gave me a smile that suddenly made me rethink my assumptions about her and the touches I'd noticed. She slowly started sliding her hand up my leg, and I felt my cock respond with a vengeance. "You know," I breathed into the intercom, "If you don't stop that, you might distract the pilot!" It was, indeed, one of my greatest understatements. In response, she squeezed my thigh, then slid her hand inside the leg of my shorts. I loved the sensation of her touch, the threat of her going higher, the possibility that a simple flight might become much more. We were passing through 5000 feet by this point, and she stopped moving long enough to read the altimeter. We were passing some little cotton-ball clouds, and what had been noticeable turbulence from the hot day magically smoothed. She purred into her microphone "I think we're nearly a mile up, aren't we?" I nodded, having a hard time finding words. She said "Good. I want you to help me join the Mile High Club!" Several thoughts passed through my mind at once. First, was I dreaming? Second, how did she ever learn about THAT club? And third, how could we make her (and my) dream actually work in this small cockpit? There was no more reason to ignore this beauty beside me, as the plane was holding course quite well now that the turbulence had ended. I switched on the autopilot, and turned to her. The air had cooled considerably as we had climbed, and her nipples were visibly hardened behind her top. I warned her "This could get loud" then took her headset off, then my own. I slid her seat back to its stop, then did the same with my own. I warned her not to push against the yoke, then released our seatbelts. I slid toward her to sit on both seats, then pulled her over me to sit on my lap facing me. My cock felt her groin grinding into it as I placed my hand into the hair at the back of her head, pulling her to me for a kiss. Our lips touched, and almost immediately we found ourselves in an open-mouthed kiss, tongues entangled and battling furiously. I hunched my hips upward, driving my still-clothed cock against her pubic bone. She responded in kind, grinding her sex even harder onto my engorged member. My hands wasted no time in moving down her body to find the tie of her bikini top, which surrendered easily to my urgent manipulations. It fell away to reveal breasts every bit as delectable as advertised. She broke our kiss just long enough to pull my T-shirt over my head, then mashed her torso into mine, our nipples matching and our heat amplified. We kept kissing through 6500 feet, then I gently pushed her away, raising her hips off of me enough to unsnap and unzip her shorts. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to find that she wore no panties. That the front of my shorts had gotten wet might've been a clue, had I been noticing. I urgently dragged them down her trim legs to be discarded by the rudder pedals. She, meanwhile, had used a hand to pull my shorts open. She reached in and pulled out my dick, which was both stimulating and a relief after such a period of entrapment. I saw no reason to waste time, and raised my ass off the seat enough to lose the rest of my clothes to that same pile by the rudder pedals. By this point, we were at nearly 8000 feet, well over the minimum altitude to be a mile high, and the air striking our now-naked bodies was noticeably cool. My cock was perfectly vertical, and she squatted over it, one hand steadying herself on my shoulder, the other guiding me into her overheated vagina. With the level of arousal I was at, I found it necessary to run a few checklists in my head as she first buried me to the hilt inside her, then began bouncing on my lap, her teeth nibbling at my ear. Brakes held - Check. DG aligned with runway heading - Check. Her clit ground into my pubic hair and her moans were audible over the engine noise. Mixture rich - Check. Prop high RPM - Check. Her nipples dragged up and down my chest as my arms held her to me. Fuel pump - On. Carb heat - Cold. Her vaginal muscles squeezed my cock in ways I hadn't imagined before. Gear down - Check. Flaps - 20. This wasn't going to last much longer. Her bouncing had become more earnest, her thrusts more meaningful, her moans now screams. Radio call - Check. Power - Full. My own orgasm was threatening regardless of my attempts to distract it. Breaks - released. Oh Holy Fuck!! Wave after wave, hot semen pumped into her as she came on my cock again. We were passing through 10,000 feet, and the thin air was leaving me a bit hypoxic as my orgasm wound down, leaving me unwilling to move a muscle, breathing hard, eyes blurred. I pulled her to me, tenderly kissing her neck as she ran her fingers through my hair. After our breathing calmed and my cock relaxed, I guided her into her seat, pulling her seatbelt back into its place, stopping this time to openly caress her clit, much to her vocal satisfaction. Easing my seat into its normal position and replacing my own seatbelt over my sticky cock, I kicked the pile of clothes from around the rudder pedals, pushing them under the seat. I punched in the identifier for a friend's private airstrip by his lake, and we laughed about this new memory we had just made as I descended us into the turbulent heat of the summer evening. We landed at the deserted lake-side strip still naked. I helped her from the plane, and we walked to the lake, where we bathed each other, then, grabbing towels from the closet on my friend's dock, we laid out a spot on the dock where we then took full advantage of our nakedness and our newfound familiarity, slowly making love in a more leisurely way.