F3 Fly Me

(Author's note: This story is an entry into the third Friendly Anonymous Writing Challenge (FAWC). The true author of this story will be kept secret until Wednesday, November 20, 2013, when the author will be revealed in the comments section following this story. There are no prizes awarded during FAWC; this is simply a friendly competition.)

(Inspiration for this and all FAWC 3 stories was taken from a single picture, which can be found

here

)

(The tags for this story are: airline crew, confusion, swingers, hunks, babes, lesbian, cruising, beach, and humor.)

* * * *

"Oops."

"What?" The voice of the copilot was clearly panicked.

"Just seeing if you're awake."

"Don't pull crap like that, Tenley. Hong Kong's one of the trickier airports to land in, and we're being recorded."

"I've landed here a million times, and my cockpit recordings get peddled around for their high entertainment value. Just sit back and dream of a thousand virgins. You're new to this route, aren't you?"

"I've landed here a couple of times," Copilot Peterson of the Cathay Pacific jetliner answered.

"I fly out of Sydney occasionally—the LA route mostly," the pilot said. "And Hong Kong to London too."

Peterson knew that flying the longer routes, especially as captain, was a mark of seniority and trust at the airlines. Something he was still years away from. "I usually do the Sydney to KL route—and to Penang and Bangkok too," he offered. He wouldn't even give a hint that he'd try matching skills with this guy in conversation—in several realms. The guy had been bragging nearly nonstop, but at least on the topic of flying, he had the credentials.

"Ah, Penang. I get your route occasionally. Got a little hideaway resort in Penang I go to on long layovers. Wooden bungalows right out over the water. Shallow water, white-sandy bottom. A whole lot of local talent there."

"Local talent?"

"Pussy. Good place to take a honey too. Isolated. Nothing to do but eat, fuck, swim, and fuck, and she can't just hop a taxi and go into town if you treat her too rough. No town, except Georgetown, and it isn't much of a town and is pretty isolated itself. They staff the place mostly with Malaysian and Thai sweeties. Probably from local brothels. They'll put out at the flash of a rubber and a bit of cash. Don't even have to bring your own pussy."

"Quite the ladies man, are you? You talk to all of them like this?"

"Oh, no. The way to keep the ladies sucking and riding your cock is to treat them like princesses in public and like whores in bed. They really go for that."

Peterson had heard this type of prattle all across the Pacific from LA. He didn't know if the guy was for real or not. Quite good looking and built and looking hardly old enough to have piloted the LA-to-Hong Kong route as much as he claimed. But Peterson had to admit the man handled the bird well, despite the juvenile talk and sick joking. Perhaps he handled the other birds, as he called them well, too.

"You'll have to give me the name of the resort," he said to redirect the conversation. "We'll have to give it a whirl."

"Place is called Paradise Bay. You and your woman looking for places to get away from it all?"

"Yeah. She works for Cathay too, in Sydney."

"Just the one woman?"

"Yeah. That's me a one-woman man."

"You don't look the part. Pretty well put together. Airline life is built for the cruising stud. Lots and lots of poontang. Stewardesses must be all over you to get in your pants. Stewards too." He laughed at that little joke. The copilot didn't.

"And I suppose you have a woman in every airport."

"Don't need that shit. Like I said about horny stewardesses, I travel with my pussy. You seen the stewardesses back there, the one named Denise? Seen the rack on that one? And the Oriental one named Mai Lai. God, can she suck. And the Filipina's got a pussy that'll draw you right in."

Not having been able to redirect the conversation, and as they were approaching Hong Kong International Airport, which he understood was really a piece of cake to land at now, the approach to the former Kai Tak airport before China took over Hong Kong having been a hairy approach between mountain peaks with a fast drop, Peterson went silent. Tenley was humming to himself, but he was handling the landing expertly. He didn't ask Peterson to help with anything.

When they were on the tarmac and rolling to the terminal, Tenley reopened the conversation, "You got a layover here?"

"Yep," Peterson responded. "Two days, then a hop down to KL and picking up the KL-Sydney route again. Captaining that route."

"Where you staying here? At the Regal Airport Hotel, where most of us stay?"

"Yeah, I guess. Haven't made reservations anywhere."

"Got plans tonight?"

"Pretty tired. Dinner, calling my honey, and then sacking in, I guess."

"I'm having a balling party with Denise and Mai Lai. We could easily find someone for you—that Filipina, Maria, puts out real good."

"Naw, thanks. Thanks, but no. Just a one-man woman, as I said."

First thing Peterson did when he got into his room, which was more of a process hassle than he thought it would be, was to take a shower and call Sydney. Most of the Cathay Pacific crew members were regulars at this hotel. He wasn't, so he had to go through some hoops to establish that he should get the airline rates. She picked up on the second ring and the smoothness in her voice told him she was glad he'd called. He ached for her. He liked talking to her on the phone when he was in the nude. He played with himself while they talked and dreamed of what they could be doing. They didn't meet up in Sydney nearly enough.

"Hi."

"Hi, yourself," She answered. "Rough flight?"

"A bit. A new route for me."

"I can hear it in your voice."

"I wish you were here." Oh, god, how he wished she was here. He'd gotten hard as soon as he'd heard her voice. It had been three weeks since they were together. He hadn't realized it until he heard her voice, but he really needed it.

"Me too," she answered in a soft, sexy voice.

At first he thought she was saying she needed to fuck too, which made him go even harder. But then he realized that she was responding to what he'd actually said, and that she was tired too.

"Maybe we can get away soon," he answered. "I heard of a place in Penang. Just the two of us. You could use some of your Cathay Pacific mileage points and meet me there when I can arrange a long layover."

"Yes," she whispered in a breathy voice. "It's murder here without you."

"I'm lonely too."

"The feel of you on me, between my legs. That thing you do to me with—" So, she was needing a fuck too.

"Stop. You're killing me. I'll arrange something with the airline. Meet you in Penang."

He barely was able to get off the phone before he had to go into the bathroom and take care of himself. But he didn't really take care of himself. There was only one real way of doing that.

He ate by himself in the hotel restaurant, weary still. He'd go straight to bed afterward. What a life, though. Everyone thought driving a passenger jet was exciting, but he thought it might be one of the most lonely professions going. Maybe not for someone like Tenley—if he was telling the truth and had a woman wherever he landed. Even brought them with him—at airline expense—Peterson thought. He did laugh at that thought.

As he passed the bar, he heard a cheery voice call him. "Peterson. There you are. Come on in and had a drink or twelve. This was my copilot, Peterson, ladies. Isn't he a stud and a half? Look, Peterson, I seem to have my hands full and need some help here. This is Denise, and Mai Lai. And, look, Maria has joined us too."

Peterson woke up four hours later—or rather, rose out of a drunken stupor—with the Filipina air stewardess, Maria, coming up on top of him from where she'd been crouched between his legs on one of the double beds in the hotel room, sucking his cock. With a groan, he rolled over on top of her, he hesitated there, bulb poised, struggling internally. But he knew he couldn't stop; his need was too great. He learned then that what Tenley had said about Maria proved to be true. It was as if her labia parted, reached up, closed over his bulb, and drew him inside. Sublimating any thinking at all, he thrust inside her with his hard cock and did with her what he so dearly wanted to do with the "only woman" back in Sydney.

The bed springs were bouncing and Maria was giving him lust in her eyes and egging him on in Spanish as he pounded and pounded and pounded inside her.

Tenley was humping Mai Lai on the other bed, with Denise sitting by and squeezing one of Mai Lai's breasts with one hand and helping to guide Tenley's thrusts with the other hand on his buttocks.

At least, Peterson thought, Tenley hadn't been shitting him about his sex life.

* * * *

Jasmine wasn't happy, and when Jasmine ain't happy, ain't nobody happy. And Jasmine was horny, which was a big part of her not being happy.

She'd flown all the way into Penang via Hong Kong from London, a grueling flight, where she'd had to play "grab ass with a smile" with a bunch of sweat-smelly and fat German businessmen in business class—and no Jim. The long flight had worn her out. She was more accustomed to the shorter Southeast Asia routes. It had been his idea to meet at the Paradise Bay resort for a "quickie" four-day romp. And now he was going to be late. All because a pilot on the run from Seoul got the runs from too much kimchi. Jim had reset the rendezvous just two days later than originally set up, both could stay the full four days originally planned, and the resort could accommodate them.

But, damnit, she was horny now. And when she was horny and mad there was no telling what mischief she could get into.

She had been standing at the resort's reception desk when she got the news from Jim. He hadn't had the nerve to contact her directly. He'd called the hotel, left a note for her, and made the change in arrangements—without even consulting her on whether she could juggle her layover so that she could be here the two extra days. Of course she would. He had a cock to die for. But he was just taking advantage of her.

While she stood there, the young German hunk she'd spied earlier—Klaus he'd said his name was—wafted past her and gave her a hungry look. He was in a Speedo, flip-flops, and aviator glasses and was carrying suntan lotion and a paperback book with a pretty-much naked woman on the cover. The cover model was as chocolate-skinned as Jasmine, but not as curvy as she was, the Jamaican beauty thought, with a sniff. But definitely an indication that the German liked his women dark skinned. After the greasy tubby German businessmen on the plane, this guy certainly looked good to her—no, he looked great. Big, built, muscle-hard, and blond. Some body hair, but that was blond too, so she could enjoy it as she pleased and ignore it when she "don't please."

She looked at his hands and his toes. Big plump things. Her experimenting on what that might indicate was big elsewhere had so far played out to 70/30 percent, which she considered to be very good odds. That's what she really liked about Jim. He was hung.

Jasmine shook her head. She certainly

was horny

. Damn Jim for putting her into this state. She'd been horny for him ever since he'd

graced

her with the suggestion they camp out here for a couple of days. Mr. Perfect. Such a perfect gentleman in public, treating her like she was his one and only. And then rough, dominating, and bigheaded when they were alone. But then, he was bigheaded elsewhere too and knew how to use it. Which brought her back to the German, Klaus. How big was he? Did he know how to use it? It would serve Jim right if he did.

On an impulse, she asked for the phone back and called the Cathay Pacific desk at the airport. There was no trouble getting whatever information she wanted from her own airline. She ascertained that Klaus was booked out on a plane early the next day. Perfect, she thought. A one-afternoon stand and he'd be well gone before Jim arrived. No hassles. She handed the receiver back and went back to her own room, a grass-roofed wooden shack, which was a whole lot more luxurious inside than it looked like on the outside, suspended over the water of the bay on stilts.

"The red bikini, I think," she said. Easy on, easy off, she thought.

Looking across the shallow, white-sand-bedded cove from her room, one of a string of huts on silts radiating out from the resort's main building into the water, Jasmine could see that the German hunk had picked out a spot outside the curve of the windows of the indoor pool. Decking extended out from the curve, and sunning ledges were sectioned off by reddish-orange vinyl barriers and floored with vinyl matting of the same color. There was room for two sunbathers in the one he occupied. All of the other sections were unoccupied, as, Jasmine had seen when she went to change into her bikini, was the indoor swimming pool. There had been a boating trip and beach barbecue outing to some nearby islands laid on today, and nearly all of the resort's guests were on that.

Good, she thought. Room to seduce, although the way the German's tongue drooped out of his mouth when he had passed her at the reception desk, Jasmine didn't think much seduction would be needed.

Klaus was sitting up on vinyl-covered pillows, rubbing suntan lotion on a magnificently muscled chest. The other portion of the section was unoccupied, as if he'd known beforehand that Jasmine would be in the need of a place to sun. The section he had chosen enjoyed the best angle of the sun's rays.

She had worn the red bikini for a purpose. She stood on the pier connecting one hut with the other until she was sure that the color of her bikini and a few deft movements of her torso and legs had caught his attention. Assured of that, she executed a beautiful dive into the water and swam around in the small cove, making sure that he'd stopped applying the lotion and was watching her. He was watching her, of course—over the top of his paperback book, but as he was trying to read it upside down, Jasmine knew where his interests were really focused. From here she could see the tenting in the crotch of his Speedo too, so she knew she had him. Or that he was going to have her. Or whatever.

His response was much too obvious. She took the upside-down book and even the pose he took that had his crotch jutting out as part of his own mating dance. She was sure when she saw him let his hand drift down to his crotch and palm his package.

She did the breast stroke around the cove for a few minutes, and then, thinking about doing the breast stroke, she managed to shrug her bikini top off, tuck it into the side of her bikini bottoms, and float on her back for a short while. She fancied she could hear the deep growl in his voice from here.

He helped her up onto the deck when she swam up to the edge and motioned what she wanted. She'd actually asked him to help her up, but he gave her a confused look.

Great. He doesn't even speak English, she thought. Well, not all language was spoken. Both of them had just been clearly negotiating with each other with no word said by either.

She stood there, at his feet, where he was stretched out—and something was really stretching the crotch of that Speedo. Her eyes could follow the line of the cock, and she decided he was well worth an afternoon's dalliance.

"Want to fly me, handsome?" She asked.

No response other than a cocking of his head and a silly grin.

"Fly me? Fuck, fuck? Want to fuck, fuck?"

Still the silly grin. There was no doubt in her mind that they were going to fuck. He was just doing that annoying thing of assuming that it was the man who was timing the seduction.

"Oh, fuck it," she said, rolling the bikini bottoms down to her knees and making a stroking pantomime with one cupped hand. "Want to be a stud and fuck me?" she repeated.

He understood that—or at least understood what he could see—came up on his knees, and then back on his haunches, as he grabbed her hips and pulled her muff into his face. He feasted on her clit and cunt, as she laughed and ran her fingers through his blond hair. Her laughter segued into moans and groans and then purring and murmurings about how she wanted this encounter to proceed from here, as he won her completely over with his prowess.

Most surprising was how he'd managed to get his Speedo off—she hadn't noticed that it buttoned at the sides—and where he'd managed to find and sheath himself with a condom. What was not surprising at all was that he was hung and athletic, as he just pushed her onto her back between her bent legs while rising on his knees, grabbed her hips, and pulled her cunt onto his cock in a long, deep slide.

So, much for foreplay, she thought, not particularly resenting the escalation of the encounter, as he pulled her to a deep penetration and held there, stuffing her with a throbbing cock, until she had stopped shuddering and writhing at the length and width of the invasion. He had one arm around the small of her back and was using the thumb of his other hand to work her clit. When he began to pull her on and off the cock and lowered his lips to her nipples, she congratulated herself on being able to find something to fully occupy her afternoon.

So there, Jim, she thought. I managed to get what you promised me today—even despite a language barrier.

After he was done and had included a nice number of explosions for her in the process, he lay back and dozed, while she sat beside him, leaned over him, and played with his wispy blond chest hair by running her fingers through it and blowing on it to watch the hairs move in little waves.

He wanted to fuck again, but she pressed him down with one hand in what was only a symbolic gesture—he was muscular enough to have done anything with her he wanted, which was a large part of the charm she saw in him—and she leaned over and gave him a slow, sensuous blow job.

When Jasmine left the young German hunk, she assumed she had put him to sleep with her post-sucking attention. But she had barely made it to the door to her hut, out near the end of the pier over the water, when she saw him padding down the pier toward her.

This was when she learned that he truly had the power to master her as he would. Making no attempts to seek her permission at all through some silly pantomiming, he just brushed past her into the room when she opened the door, pulled her inside, shut the door, and fucked her roughly and relentlessly into the night—on the bed, over a chair, on the floor, in the shower. Klaus had clit for dinner and Jasmine enjoyed a nice slice of cock.

He left her only when and because, she knew through her telephone call to the airport, that he needed to be checking out and catching a flight back to Munich. She was glad that she had ensured Klaus wouldn't be staying around until Jim arrived. On the other hand, she regretted that he was leaving Penang as the sun came up. Now she had another day to kill before Jim arrived, and the German had only made her more horny.

* * * *

Sue had dropped the bombshell that she hadn't realized was a bombshell as they were starting down the aisle with beverages and snacks on Cathay Pacific's Sydney-to-Penang run. Elizabeth's jaw had dropped and she'd given Sue a shocked look, but all she'd hissed then was a "Later."

They were halfway down the aisle when Elizabeth raised her orange juice container as a signal that she needed a refill, and Benton, one of the stewards, sashayed down from the kitchen separating first class from steerage with a refill, bent his ear to Elizabeth's mouth to receive a bit of gossip, and then also looked up and gave Sue a shocked glare.