Thank you to the person who suggested this topic, I named something significant in the story after you.
All of the fictional characters in this story are over 18.
*
"Want one last swig, Carrie?" Viv asks, offering me her flask.
"Sure," I say, taking a long sip of the velvety smooth brandy.
"Well, I've got to go," she says as I hand her flask back to her.
The little biplane we are riding in has stopped moving. We both know from experience the motor will stop momentarily. Viv stands up, in a stoop because the ceiling is too low for her to fully extend herself, and she smooths out and straightens her dress.
I shift in my seat and give her a little more room as the motor stops, and she opens the cabin door and steps onto the wing. I move toward the door and see that she is easing herself down on the ground. Bob, the pilot, is still getting out of the open cockpit, climbing down the fuselage side behind us.
"I would give you a hand if you would wait for a second," our pilot says.
"That's okay, Bob, I've done it hundreds of times," Viv replies.
Tony has walked from the house that serves as a combination warehouse, store, hotel, post office, and occasional hospital out here in the middle-of-nowhere. Viv gives him a big hug and says something to him that is unintelligible to me. Then she retraces his steps in reverse.
Tony puts his right foot on the metal stirrup and grabs the hand-hold, stepping onto the wing where my friend had just been. He walks to the cabin door and I sit back into the far rear seat to give him room. He closes the door and sits facing me on the seat diagonally opposite.
"Hi Carrie," he says softly with a smile.
The lightweight airplane moves around a little bit as Bob pulls two big bags of parcels and mail from the compartment directly behind the cockpit. He calls "EZ-JAL" -- the registration code for this DH.50J -- a "balanced" airplane because, with four passengers, baggage, freight, himself, and gas, it hauls as much as it weighs. But we will just have two passengers and a few letters on board when we leave 'The Creek' a rather optimistically named homestead.
Tony is smiling at me when I make eye contact again, so I stand and bend forward doing something unnecessary just so that he can look down my neckline and see my breasts. Getting very close, whispering in his ear I ask him if he "wants to" once we get airborne.
Young and muscular, but shy. Tony lives in the high savannah where there are no accessible women to date. He says "yes" to me with smiles rather than words. As I hear Bob climb back into the cockpit behind us I tenderly run my hand from his cheek to his neck to his chest and his waist. There I adjust and buckle his seatbelt before I sit back and put my own on.
After we taxi, take-off, climb and level out, I take off my seatbelt and reach over to remove his.
"Are you 'up'?" I ask, as my hand lingers on his waist after unbuckling him. "Should I take this off as well?"
"He nods." Baby steps I think.
"Look, Tony," I say, "you are a sweet guy and I know that you want something. Just say what it is that you want. It makes it rather easier to get it." Then I slowly pulled my dress off, folded it, and put it on the seat by the door.
"Well, Tony, what do you want?"
"Head ..." he says very softly.
"Right, then I'll blow you, suck you off ..." I stop, seeing that my talking is making him uncomfortable.
I shift down in front of him. The small piece of plush carpeting is cushioning my knees. I unbuckle his belt, unhook and unzip his trousers, sliding them down around his ankles. I can see his penis swelling up and tenting his underwear. In a smooth motion, I pull his boxers down and set it free.
Helpfully, he shifts towards me in the forward rear-facing seat. I think about how much I would like to be fucked and have my vagina stretched by his big beautiful dick. It isn't the longest I've seen lately, but it is nice and thick. It has a lovely vein that runs its entire length, terminating at the slightly thinner and darker opening at the tip.
Tenderly, I lick the circular opening where his outer skin turns inside to become his more sensitive inner skin. Lubricating him before I gently pull his foreskin back. Tony's penis begins to ooze pre-cum. I move my mouth over the nerve endings in his exposed glans. Gently I engulf his head in warm saliva. Softly, slowly I lick the vertical slit at the tip of his cockhead.
Tony emits a muffled groan as I hold my face off-center towards the window and slide my wet, waxed, pursed lips down the turgid shaft of his penis. Sliding down until his dickhead is at the back of my throat. Then I turn my face ninety-degrees away from the window as I pull back.
I use the skills that my mentor taught me, lessons on the skillful delivery of oral sex that Bob imparted to me when I started out. Sliding my face down on Tony's rigid member, sucking him in running my tongue all over his head. Tickling his spongy frenulum as it makes its way in my mouth. Turning my head one way as his penis goes down into my mouth and turning it the other as it comes back out of my mouth.
I ran my tongue over his hard penis every time I went up and every time I went down, over at a pace that quickened with each successive cycle. I was not only going faster, I was pushing it in and pulling back off more forcefully each time. He is moaning, as am I although my moans are somewhat muffled by the dick in my mouth and throat.
Throat, because once I had that beautiful thick prick at the entrance I continued with each cycle to push him in just a little deeper. Each thrust was harder, faster, wetter, and deeper into me. In a short time, even as big as he was, he was all of the way in. His twin balls in their hairy home made contact with my chin on each downstroke.
