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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.