Amazon Flight Three Treats 4 Gabe

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Being a pilot, I had fun with this story, and took liberties that in no way reflect on the great profession and sport of flying. There is adventure here, some kink, a real story and of course some good sex. If you are looking for sex only, save this one for a rainy day in front of a fire. I welcome feedback and will respond to any with return addresses. Remember, if you don’t add your address, it comes to me as “anonymous”. Thanks so much for your time and comments.

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Gabe waited. He looked again at his watch and wondered if his passengers would arrive in time. His orders from “Flight” were to land at the busy, mostly charter and corporate Teterboro Airport just north and west of New York City, and “Pick up three for Hanscom Field, a similar use airfield just north and west of Boston. It was a simple trip in a Piper Saratoga, a six seat, single engine aircraft, and should take no more than an hour and a half, door to door. If the small air charter company had no more work for him tonight, he’d visit a few old haunts in the city then find a motel if he didn’t score and sleep with someone special.

Last night in New York City, after a ferry job of two executives to Pittsburgh and back, was about as hot as they come. The two guys were so happy with their business results, and the banter with their pilot during the two comfortable flights, they had invited Gabe to join them for dinner at the Waldorf. Somehow, on a trip to the men’s room, he’d lucked out and stepped on the toe of a petite little brunette and a conversation developed out of profuse apologies. In the end, and that’s where this hot little number liked it most, she’d invited him up to her room and fucked him silly with every hole, juice and trick she could muster. All he could think of while waiting for his next fare in the Teterboro airport was how lucky he’d been, and how he’d likely never have luck like that again.

The only hitch with the delayed passengers, and the reason to hurry, was that the weather was deteriorating up that way. A nor’easter was rolling in off the sea and that meant wind, rain, fog and a very uncomfortable ride. The “Toga” was oxygen equipped, but not pressurized, and having passengers don masks was not exactly an attractive prospect. They would remain below twelve thousand feet, probably a lot lower than that.

Last night went through his mind while he waited. The rich little wench had been on a shopping spree in the City while her husband was on business overseas from their Washington, DC home. Once he’d broken free of the two exec’s who couldn’t seem to wink enough times at his luck, he’d taken the elevator to her floor and knocked on her door.

She answered the knock and opened the door for him to see her in a classic, white laced teddy, strapped to hold up a pair of matching white stockings. Her high spiked heels and a pair of lush lips gave her a look that said, “Insert here.”

He stepped inside, or was pulled in, and she held nothing back from their very first contact. Within minutes, she had her panties off and his big dick right up her ass. She kept telling him all the time to fuck her like the slut she was, like her husband failed to do. She couldn’t get enough.

Gabe accommodated her every wish and of course never complained. She had an agenda from the start and he was there for her every step and plunge and drop of the way. Eventually she tired and fell asleep directly under him, face down on the king sized bed. She looked incredibly tantalizing still, lying there with that same look on her face, but with the words more aggressively stating, “Fuck me, now, anywhere!” He took her name and address from her driver’s license and made a mental note to call her sometime during the day, hopefully when her hubby was at work. You never know when their paths might cross again.

He looked impatiently once again at the front door of the Teterboro General Aviation building for a group of three people. On this occasion, his timing was perfect as the door opened, and three very broad shouldered, very tall women entered the waiting area as if on cue.

They marched rather than walked into the center of the big room, their boots clicking in unison on the marble floor. All three were long haired, one each blond, redhead and brunette, all well over six feet tall, and all with accentuated facial features that told anyone within a hundred feet that they were different, and probably not to be messed with. They looked like fighters!

Each carried a large duffle bag over their shoulder, like G.I.’s, all of those bright blue and yellow and similarly emblazoned with logo’s, a color scheme that matched their sweat suit uniforms. Gabe’s heart skipped a beat before realizing they could not be his party. They were so big and his plane was so small! The weight limit alone might be a problem. The headroom issue would surely be a problem, and that would have meant serious complaints back to the home office. He sighed with relief when they journeyed over to the counter and not toward him. His relief was dashed however, when the clerk immediately pointed his finger directly at Gabe.

The twenty-eight year old pilot was five feet, eight inches tall, weighing one seventy-five only because he worked out religiously between flight assignments in gyms and paths through forests around the country. He loved to run, climb and swim as much as he loved to learn new machines and master them. He worked his mind furiously as the huge women approached. These monsters could be his match.

“Can I help you guys, uh, ladies?” He asked unconsciously, then regretting the mistake, not to mention dreading the answer. He saw the words “Wrestling” in the mix of color proclamations and logo’s on their tops, along with substantial orbs protruding against the loose cotton material.

The women looked at each other in a moment of shock at the little man’s insolence, but decided without signal that they would let the mistake slide. They needed to get to Boston tonight and this was evidently the transportation arranged for them. The redhead asked in a gravely voice, “Green Air?”

They stopped in front of him, but not more than a few inches away, and with one on each side forming a “U” he felt suddenly anxious to back out of, especially with the speaker’s finger pinned on the charter company’s emblem on his chest. “Three Treats.” She added.

“Gabe Wellman.” He put his hand out to her, while panicking for this was the name he’d been assigned to fetch. Now he knew what the hell it meant. “Pilot.” He looked up and scanned the faces of all three of them and suddenly remembered walking among the redwoods in California. “You’re the ‘Treats’?”

He saw the dreaded answer coming from her mouth like a wave crashing on his beach. Not a damn thing he could do to stop it. With a loud whoosh, it clapped down on him with a resounding, two syllable, “DUH-UH.”

She wouldn’t let go of his hand. He pleaded with his eyes, but the redhead had him in a vice, while she smiled at her friends towering either side of him. “So, Little Man. Where’s our chariot?” The women smiled conspiratorially.

Besides having picked up a new nick name, Little Man, he wanted to ask them their weights, but could scarcely get the courage up to give them the bad news. Hmmm, maybe if they saw how small the plane was. He wanted to offer to carry one or more of their bags, but they seemed to be glued to the women’s shoulders. Finally, he backed out the only exit they left him and muttered, “Uh, this way.”

They followed him through the building and out on the ramp. As he passed the front desk, he looked pleadingly at the agent, but got no more than a smile and roll of the eyes in return. They arrived moments later at the Saratoga and suddenly his courage returned. He did love to fly.

He did an about face and with the little plane behind him acting as backup, and said, “As you can see, I was not informed of the, uh, requirements and as a result I have insufficient equipment here for you to….”

“How much fuel on board?” The redhead demanded, walking over and examining the prop as if she knew to look for nicks on its leading edges.

Gabe, off balance by the request and inspection, simply looked back at her, dumb and stupid.

“How much fuel!” The words were a demand now. She stooped down to look under the aircraft.

“Little over half, why?” He didn’t know what else to say.

“We’ll manage. Let’s go ladies.” She signaled the others to follow her to the wing where they climbed up on the designated path and entered the small cabin through the passenger seat door.

Gabe saw the plane dip under the weight of each as they stepped up and somehow managed to get their huge frames inside the aircraft. Before he could stop them, they were all on board, their bags strapped into the two aft seats, and talking up a storm as if Gabe weren’t even on the same planet.

He walked around to the pilot’s side of the plane and stepped up on a similar marked strip to stick his head through the pilot’s door and announce, “Ladies, this is a Piper Saratoga and it has a weight limit of…”

“Gabie!” Redhead, sitting in the passenger seat, stopped him mid sentence. “Between us all, you are looking at a combined weight of less than four average men, though I don’t see any around, do you?” She mimed a scan of the horizon, overlooking Gabe, and her friends chuckled with her antics. “This plane might be a bit light on your side, but otherwise within weight limits and balanced. Now get your skinny little ass in here and take us to Hanscom Field before the weather closes in.” She didn’t yell. She didn’t have to. Her voice resonated like that of a drill instructor and she was obviously used to being obeyed.

Five minutes later, his stomach in his chest, the pilot lifted the small bird off the ground at Teterboro and breathed for the first time since run up. The plane handled normally, and they were flying without any indication of trouble. The bird was balanced and there were no signs of stress in the controls or the instruments. He allowed himself a moment to breathe and smile in relief. This brought back last night again, and that was not good.

“Hey! You gonna answer that? Or you want me to?” The words came through his headset, not from the dream.

“What?” He fumbled on the “stick” and pressed the intercom’s “talk” button, “What?”

“I said, Little Man, are you going to answer that call?”

Gabe looked to his right and saw the redhead was speaking into her headset mounted mic. She had put the set on while he was busy taking off and watching what he was supposed to be watching.

The call came again, “Piper three, four, victor, Teterboro. Do you copy?”

It was the tower. “Three four victor copy contact control on one, two, two point three Good day.” He’d heard the call and didn’t even know it. The tower’s transmission had been entering his ears but not making sense in his mind until he’d been disturbed. He looked at the redhead and said over the intercom, “Thanks….”

“Thanks for what, Little Man?” She looked at her friends again and back at the pilot. “You weren’t here. I don’t know where the hell you were, but you weren’t here! You aren’t still worried about weights and balance, are you? You want me to take over?” She reached for the stick, actually two vertical hand grips with several buttons and control of the flying surfaces for the aircraft.

The woman knew too much about flying. Only someone in the field would use such language. He had to think about what to say to her, but he didn’t have to think about contacting Air Traffic Control. He switched radio frequencies, scanning all the rest of his instruments as he did every minute or so, and arranged to pick up on his flight plan to Hanscom Field. Then he called for weather in the area and found that it was deteriorating sooner than expected. They weren’t going to make Hanscom Field before Boston was socked in.

When he looked at the redhead, she was already turned in her seat and discussing something with her friends. They were using the noise of the aircraft to hide their conversation. Suddenly she turned to face him, punched the intercom button on her duplicate steering system and demanded, “What?!”

He looked at her forlornly and began, “The weather is closing in….”

“We’re going anyway.”

His jaw fell open and he was for the moment speechless. Not only had she heard his weather report, she had already discussed it with her friends and come to a conclusion only he was authorized come to. He looked back forward and said, “Like hell we are!”

Nobody was taking control of his airplane. Gabe looked at the new chart display on his console. Punching various keys he was able to plot a course to Danbury airport a few dozen miles ahead. They would pull in there and the monsters would just have to take a freaking bus. He keyed his mic to call the tower at Danbury.

“Wait!”

The hand on his forearm was gentle, even warm. He looked at the redhead and held the transmit button a moment longer.

“I’m sorry.” The redhead said, batting her eyes like a woman might do. “We can get a bit, well, pushy. It’s our business. Sometimes we get a little carried away.” She and the others laughed at something private.

“Listen. I have a few hours in the left seat. Sometimes it goes to my head. Part of the image too. We, uh, are kind of used to getting what we want.” She smiled and pushed her chest out as a symbol of her size, or source of her power. This tightened the sweat shirt dramatically.

Gabe’s eyes could not miss the huge melons pushing out in the stretched blue and yellow fabric. The size point was made already, but this brought new meaning to the issue. “Listen, the sweater, I mean the weather’s closing in. You heard the report. We’ll set it down in Danbury and wait it out, or you can take public transportation.” Despite their sudden softness, he still wanted out of this airplane in a hurry. These broads were dangerous.

The redhead said, “Okay, whatever you say. I’m sorry for coming on so strong, what was your name, Gabe?” She didn’t wait for his nod. “It’s just nature of the beast, so to speak.” She and the others chuckled. “The weather’s still a long way off, so why not keep going until we get closer to Boston, okay? We promise to be good, and when you say land, we land.” She held up three fingers and the two in the back laughed loudly at a private joke.

Gabe scanned his instruments as if he weren’t listening. Then he nodded without looking at her. She squealed her delight and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. She pulled back suddenly when she felt the hard muscles in his neck. The redhead turned and twisted her face in appreciation to her friends.

“He’s got neck!” She turned to the pilot with a new found appreciation. “I’m Candy,” She said with a smile.

“I’m Cookie!” The brunette chimed in cheerfully from behind.

“And I’m Kisses!” The blonde was nearly ecstatic.

Then they all said, “And we’re You’re Three Treats!” They laughed.

Gabe forced a smile but was still wary of the powerful women beside and behind him. If any of them became agitated, there’d be no way he could control them and the aircraft at the same time. He decided to try and keep them calm and just get through the flight. “I’m Gabe, and I’m the One Pilot!”

They were silent for a moment, then laughing aloud like men. The blonde sounded off, “Three Treats for Gabe!” They laughed some more. The title “Little Man” had mysteriously disappeared from Candy’s vocabulary.

Danbury passed under the starboard wing while the women continued to chat. Every now and then, one would ask Gabe a question to try to draw him out, only to be answered by a raised hand and a sudden radio call he would have to make. They tolerated his aloofness and chatted on.

The Hartford airport was next to pass by, this also to starboard, and the first signs of a cloud cover to the east became visible. The daylight was furnished by the sun, setting in still clear air behind. He scanned the horizon for signs of trouble and saw only Candy’s large breasts, or at least that was all that registered. Had someone else been sitting there, perhaps he’d have seen trouble coming and avoided it. Then again, if someone else was sitting there, he’d have already had them all safe on the ground in Danbury or Hartford. The next possibility was Worcester, Mass.

Candy, the redhead, saw him looking back and forth from the clouds on the horizon and the chart display on the console and knew what he was thinking. “Can’t we just go for it? We’re almost there and we have such an important meeting in Boston tonight. We don’t mind some turbulence.”

She was pleading now, a sizable switch from earlier demeanor. The two women in the rear didn’t seem to agree with her assessment, but said nothing. He looked at her, then back at Cookie and Kisses and laughed at the absurdity of it all. Their names alone were enough to disarm the angriest of men. “What are you guys, anyway? Cheerleaders?”

Candy was grateful for the chance to distract him from a decision, “We’re wrestlers!”

“Wrestlers!” He smiled and muttered, “Bunch of phonies…”

“What!” Candy had heard him.

“I said, uh, ‘Crunch some bonies,” He fumbled the words, fighting the fear of three, big angry women in the small cabin.

Candy sat back, holding her temper. “You better watch yourself Mister. Any one of us could drop you like a stone.” Then she caught herself and added, “But we are naturally very nice girls, aren’t we girls?” She looked aft.

The others nodded and Kisses said, “Oh yes! We are very nice girls.” She reached forward between the seats and laid her hand down on Gabe’s groin, closing her massive mitt on his genitals. The grip was firm, but not yet painful. He smiled tentatively, looked at Candy and back at the horizon forward. “I’ll push on a bit more, maybe to Worcester. It’s not a bad run from there to the City.” The grip relaxed and the hand withdrew, allowing Gabe to let out a breath. Then he eyed the high cloud ceiling that they had somehow crawled under while he was worrying about other things.

The first bolt of lightening was completely unexpected. The forecast contained no mention of electrical activity in the approaching storm. This had to have come from something else, perhaps heat in conjunction with moisture aloft. Suddenly the world went bright white, and then dark.

They were in the clouds. Gabe checked his instruments instinctively and saw all was well, except that he was off course nearly ninety degrees to the south. He turned the aircraft back north of east and checked around the cabin to be sure all his passengers were okay. By the time he turned back to the front, the horizon and all signs of everything else in the world were gone. The light of day had turned to near complete darkness, and the world they’d flown in for the last fourty minutes had suddenly been replaced by one of angry clouds, ominous encroaching darkness and suddenly wind with turbulence.

“Tighten all safety belts!” He said without looking at his passengers. “Check ‘em out!” He commanded Candy in the passenger seat, while he was busy shifting to instrument flight and readying to call Control for a change in flight plan. The next bolt of lightening struck the plane.

The aircraft went dead silent in the few seconds it took for the engine to spin down. He feathered the prop. Someone screamed in the rear seats. The engine was dead. All lights in the cabin were dead. He thought about the previous instrument reading that he was off course. That was probably wrong too and now they were headed due north. He began to set the glide path.

Gabe felt the controls fighting him and realized Candy had grabbed the yoke. He assessed the aircraft’s status as quickly as he could but just getting the aircraft into glide configuration was impossible with her fighting him. He instinctively grappled the stick in Candy’s panic for a moment but realized there was no way to regain control of the aircraft against her. He looked at her and in the dim light and saw her determined, blank stare. They would break the controls before she would let go. The plane began to turn. Gabe realized if he didn’t get control back soon…