John and I have known each other since we were kids at school, where each of us had acquired a kind of hero status amongst our classmates for jacking off during French. For our checkered history of misdemeanors, we had long been banned from sitting together. The principal had seated us at desks on opposite sides of the classroom.
We took fiendish delight in embarrassing our teacher, the cute and voluptuous Mlle. Lecocq, by pulling down hard on our exposed and raging erections, then letting them spring back up against the plywood bottom of our desks with a succession of resounding thwumps! and thwacks! From the depth of her scarlet flushes, it became evident that the young Mme. Lecocq must finally have guessed as to the type of percussive instruments being used to create the disturbance, and also, from our glazed expressions, those responsible for its emanation. Addressing me directly with only the hint of a smile, she had carried on regardless, "Mark n'est pas tres intelligent."
Thirty years later, John and I were sitting on our perches at the cocktail bar, chatting idly over our drinks for long enough to loosen up. Engaged in animated girl talk, Fay and Ann were comfortably out of earshot at a nearby table when Ann, my wife, glanced up from her martini to catch John's ever roving eye. He was openly appraising her credentials in open-mouthed approval. She was used to this, and acknowledged his admiration with an "eat your heart out baby" smile. Provocatively, she puckered her lips to shape a wisp of a kiss that had both John and I plunging our hands into our pockets!
Ann stands a leggy 5ft 7", marginally taller than me. At forty-five, the arrogant thrust of her proud bare breasts accented by pert, pink nipples that are always erect, are two reasons why she's such fun to shower with. Her eyes are as warm and soft as her close quicksilver hairstyle that sparkles with vitality. There is about her a slight air of sexual modesty and shyness to set a man's loins afire.
Fay by contrast at 5ft 2", is a petite green-eyed, strawberry blonde blessed with a magnificent DD bust and all the sexual assurance that such assets confer upon a woman. Her hair is long and she wears it loosely drawn up into a scroll on top. Her perfect legs excite speculation as to the ecstasy that might be found between them when they are locked around your neck.
Without ever having crossed the normal borders of conventional morality, we have shared many flirtatious evenings together and, on one such occasion after several drinks, Fay confided in front of us all that the first time she saw what John held in store for her, she cried, "My god! You're not putting that thing in me!" Thereafter Ann would sometimes pay him tribute and refer to him deferentially as, 'Big Bad John'. The girls would laugh and giggle and wiggle their tits at him, and we would all get horny, especially Ann.
The floor level indicator light rose at an alarming rate until it reached the top. A minute later we stepped out into at the hotel's heliport lounge in time to watch through the observation window the touch down of a Bell6 Dragonfly, and a stunning view of Sydney.
"Good bloody god mate, some fucking party, where the hell is it, Canberra?" I yelled against the high-pitched engine of the Bell.
"Don't worry about it now, you can figure it later after you've met and been initiated into the group ... as I said mate, it's a private party," John explained with a sly grin.
All my notions as to what the word "initiation" could imply raised my levels yet again, as we scurried towards the chopper.
* * * * * * *
The pilot stepped out onto the pad and beckoned us to board. From beneath her metallic blue helmet to match the Bell, a mass of fiery red hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. She wore a strapless, black leather bra top above matching skintight pants. "Hi John, Hi Fay," she yelled above the noise of the idling Bell, "wonderful to have you join us once again, please introduce me." She directed an appraising smile towards Ann and me.
"Hi' ya Nerilie, you sexy bitch, meet Mark and Ann," said John, lecherously ogling her small but outrageously protruding breasts.
Oh my god, I thought, as I mentally stripped her - it didn't take a lot of imagination. Even Ann didn't hide her admiration as she returned her smile. I had a raging boner and it showed.
The Dragonfly seats five passengers in all, one beside the pilot and four in two rows behind. John eagerly helped Ann into one of the two rearmost seats before climbing in beside her. Fay gave me a tantalizing glimpse of bare thigh as she raised her leg to step aboard. I swung in beside her and was about to close the hatch when a voice that I recognized as belonging to the Opal receptionist came over the radio. "Alpha November 69, hold position for your other passenger."
Nerilie lifted the mike to her sensuous lips. "Alpha November 69 to Opal Base...holding."
A minute or two later a tall, dark figure stepped onto the pad and strode towards the waiting Bell.
"Well Ann, looky who it is! ... Now aren't you the lucky one," Fay giggled as the lead drummer in whom Ann had been so interested in 'down below', swung his lean bulk into the vacant front seat beside Nerilie. If Ann flushed, then she kept it to herself and gave nothing away as to indicate her thoughts or feelings.
Nerilie greeted him with a smoldering sidelong glance, "Hi Milton, I thought you had deserted me."
"Hey dudes, thanks for waiting." Milton said, in a Deep Southern accent, "Boss man raised all hell until Big Daddy agreed to sit in for me, great guy."
After a few minutes of belting up and awaiting clearance from Mascot Tower, the Bell lifted with a roar into the midnight blue of the Sydney sky. Nerilie spoke into the cabin microphone, "Welcome aboard folks, tonight after we land I will be your party hostess so please sit back, relax, and enjoy yourselves." The microphone clicked off and the cabin lights went out.
Reflected in the Plexiglas, I caught a glimpse of John and Ann leaning into each other, "Oh my god John! Do you have a license to carry this weapon?"
"Come here you hot slut", John whispered above Ann's smothered giggles, and a rustling of her skirt.
Silence for a bit and then, "Hmm ...Ooh...Oh yes John ... yes, just there! Oooh!" Somehow it made me even hornier to hear my wife getting hot to another man's touch.
The Bell banked steeply affording us a breathtaking view of the city lights a few hundred feet below. Luna Park, the Sydney Harbour Bridge, the floodlit sails of the Sydney Opera House. And out of Circular Quay a stream of ferries etched their wakes on the harbor between Manly, Mosman, and Taronga Park. Obviously, we were heading southeast towards the coast.
Fay leaned into me as I put my arm around her. "Coo" she mimed, laying on her cockney accent, "isn't it just luverly!" She gave a wicked giggle as her hand clasped firmly around my throbbing cock! I groaned as I began fondling her through the sheer black magic of her dress.
She unzipped my pants and kept squeezing my cock, whilst at the same time lightly stroking her thumb over my corona. She soon had it weeping tears of sheer joy.
I lifted her skirt above her knees as she eagerly spread her legs as wide as the engineers that had designed this sky bubble had not allowed for. My fingertips traced the soft inner whiteness of her thighs until they reached the hot wet lips of her pantie-less pussy. I began caressing and tormenting her as I circled my finger around the hood of her engorged clitoris. She squeezed my cock tighter sending a wave of lust through my loins and legs, which spread like fire to the tips of my toes.
Like nimble fencers, we feinted and parried each other's lust. I thrust my fingers deeply into her hot wet cunt, curving them to caress her G spot. She arched in her seat and moaned, "Ooh, yes luvee, Fuck me! Fuck me with your fingers!"
None of what was going on behind him had been lost on Milton, one very sexy man. We couldn't see what his long velvet fingers were doing to Nerilie, but it didn't take much imagination. Their sidelong glances were easily readable by the luminous glow of the instruments spread before them - their bodies were on the same frequency continuously signaling each other like the Bell's transponder with Air Traffic Control.
Nerilie protested weakly, "Behave yourself Milton ... later!" then miming his accent, "How in hell do you expect me to 'flar this godam thang'!" A few minutes later Nerilie's cabin microphone broke the spell, "Sorry to disturb you folks. Please fasten your seat belts. We will be landing in about five minutes," Click.
I had lost all sense of time and had no idea as to where we were or how far we might have flown. The bright warm orb of a harvest moon rose out of the sea to port, and ahead a curving line of unbroken surf stretched before us down the coast of New South Wales. Flying at only a few hundred feet we watched in wonder the glowing patterns of phosphorous on wet sand as rollers spent their foam upon a virgin beach.
Nerilie adjusted the rotor's pitch as we began descending towards the finger of a high bluff that pointed into the Pacific. Above it, the glittering pendant of the Southern Cross was suspended in the clear night sky. A minute later we were circling an austere sandstone mansion that stood above the cliffs as a sentinel faces the sea.
Nerilie set us down softly beside two other parked helicopters, some fifty yards from the house on a large lawn that from above we could see was just a small part of its grounds. The rotors flickered to a stop, then opening the hatch Nerilie sprang to the lawn as nimbly as a cat. Removing her helmet she shook her hair free with a toss of her head, "Welcome to "Oceanview," folks," she said, as we all climbed out and stretched our legs. "And now, if you are all hot to trot, let's go party shall we!" she grinned.
* * * * * * *
In the levity given of the moment we laughed as Nerilie and Milton led us towards the house. Milton had his arm around her shoulders, pulling her slightly off balance and playfully teasing and groping her as they walked. She giggled and pretended to reject him with slaps and punches to his arm and chest, to which he reacted as a stallion under whip.
John and Fay had their arms about each other as they walked ahead of us. Occasionally they would give each other a playful slap on the butt, followed by peals of laughter. They teased each other with innuendo about the previous party, "I hope you aren't planning on spending all your savings on that blue-eyed, blonde guy again tonight, honey - I think Mark wants to make a big deposit to your money box," John taunted.
