Everything in this little tale is true, I just changed the names to protect the guilty. We are, all of us, guilty of something.
It's hard to believe, but we were in our late twenties once, a very long time ago. That is when the events described in this story took place.
***
5:00 PM MONDAY - NOVEMBER - 1988
I woke up on a sunny Monday afternoon at five o'clock. Five hours of sleep just was not enough. I needed a cup of coffee badly. Kristin was in the kitchen making Osso Buco alla Milanese con Risotto, bone with a hole in the style of Milan with rice, another wonderous dinner for us. I kissed Lillian who had stayed behind to cover the truck dispatch telephone and was helping Kristin with dinner. George and Punch had the kids, who had been released from school a bit over an hour ago, over at the neighborhood park.
The beautiful smell of pork shanks being tenderized by brazing in white wine, garlic, lemon and a bit of parsley filled the kitchen. Later those shanks, the bones with holes, would be served after being cooked in a sauce of plum tomatoes, diced carrots, onions and more garlic. You really can't have too much garlic can you. Then served atop rice cooked in beef stock with saffron.
Eva walked into the kitchen, being Eva she was gorgeous, and she was naked. Dinner was always at six so the pilot for our seven o'clock, that would be Lillian tonight, did not have to rush. Since the children wouldn't be back from the playground for half of an hour, I kissed Eva deeply and used my fingers to play gently with her left nipple ring. I took her right breast into my mouth before walking over and getting her a cup of coffee. When I returned she gave me a tongue kiss and took a sip of coffee.
After Kristin had put everything in the casserole pan she came over and started playing with Eva's pussy. Eva was sitting in my lap, her head was turned to her right we were kissing over her shoulder. I was holding her atop me as I was playing with her nipple rings. Kristin started two fingering her brushing her thumb across Eva's swollen glans with every stroke.
Eventually Kristin got on her knees and started licking Eva. My love Eva she was in another plane of existence. I held her tightly as she was moaning and squirting, coming and groaning and making other cute little sounds. She did not return to earth until we heard the boys knocking on the kitchen door.
George and Punch walked into the kitchen with their posse in tow as soon as Eva left to go get dressed. The boys had walked our children the four or five blocks from Coldwater Creek Elementary. Once the kids were all cleaned up from their outside play in the small amount of snowfall that we had in the 'Loo today, the children would set the table for dinner.
Kristin had a skillful way of serving a family of fifteen an impeccable dinner. Moreover, she made it all seem so easy. After enjoying it, Jamie gave my brother's wife a deep lingering tongue kiss as she traversed the kitchen on her way to her car. She had the seven o'clock flight to Springfield. Kristin returned the affectionate kiss by grabbing Lillian's lovely ass playfully.
George and I helped clean up after dinner before he left to take the nine o'clock flight south. I had the eleven o'clock flight to Carbondale and Evansville, so I was able to join in the evening's festivities, a fun little game we called 'riding Punch,' with Jamie, Kristin and Eva.
***
Before Eddie Rickenbacker was the President of Eastern Airlines he was a Dayton Ohio race car driver. When the United States entered the maelstrom of that "Great War" over in Europe he trained as a pilot at Kelly Field in San Antonio Texas. Then he went to France to fight in the U. S. Army's 94th Aero Squadron.
The red white and blue top hat in a hoop insignia of America's first aviation pursuit squadron was a consistent theme through the faux French farmhouse restaurant I was driving past on James S. McDonnell Boulevard along the northern perimeter of Lambert-Saint Louis Airport, near the buildings the Curtiss Commandos we would fly next year were manufactured in.
Although the restaurant was right next door to our hanger, we very rarely ever went there. Maybe twice or three times in five years. We worked nights. I have logged 7255 hours in the Beechcraft Model Eighteen, all of them IFR, Instrument Flying Rules. Most of them flying the "Night Express" out of Lambert-Saint Louis.
With five qualified pilots and three airplanes we ran a fixed three on, two off schedule, about 365 times in our five year stint in the 'Lou. While we flew Eva went to Nod Theological Seminary, and Kristin kept us from going insane. It was institutionalized monotony, we flew that same exact schedule every night except Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
The Beechcraft Model Eighteen had perfect timing. It first flew just before the Second World War broke out. The army bought thousands as trainers, liaison aircraft and light transports. Forgiving of newly minted aircrew and easy to fly, the passenger versions seated from seven to eleven passengers with room for their suitcases in back.
The Eighteen was a ubiquitous small market feeder aircraft; it remained in continuous production in Wichita Kansas for thirty-five years until the Arab Oil Embargo and its resulting inflation briefly killed general aviation manufacture in the United States. Our three were set up as freight haulers. We could carry an honest ton an honest thousand nautical miles. It was a perfect airplane for what we did with it.
Set up for a single pilot; our three had an Airspeed Indicator, Artificial Horizon and Altimitter centered on the left yoke. Below them resided a Turn and Bank indicator, an Artificial Compass and a Clock. To the immediate right of those were stacked the three IFR instruments, from top to bottom a VHF Omni Range, Automatic Direction Finder and Glide Slope Indicator.
The center of the instrument panel held a collection of duplex gages. Across the top were Outside Air Temperature paired with Vacuum and two Fuel Gages, left auxiliary and main, right main and auxiliary, mimicking their physical locations, then electrical system Amperage and Volts.
Below them were more double needle gages showing your left and right engine conditions side by side. Carburetor Air Temperature, Oil Temperature, Oil pressure, and RPM. The next row of duplex gages below were Manifold Pressure, Cylinder Head Temperature, Exhaust Temperature, and Horsepower.
When you took a check-ride the check-airman in the right seat had but four instruments arranged in a 'T' to consider. Speed, gyroscopic horizon and altitude above a centered gyrocompass. The fuel selector switches, engine controls, flap and gear levers, trim wheels, transponder and radios were in the middle console. All the switches and circuit breakers were on the left side under the instruments.
My flight east to MWA in Carbondale Illinois, and on to EVV in Evansville Indiana before returning to Lambert took about two and a half hours flying time at one-hundred-forty nautical miles per hour. We were on the ground loading and unloading for about four additional hours. So having left at eleven o'clock I was back on the ground at Lambert before six the next morning.
I spent a few minutes clearing up some paperwork so I could go home and shower at the same time as George. In the same shower as my big brother who had just walked into the hangar as I was putting the last of the completed forms in their appropriate baskets.
The rectangular clock on the dashboard of my little red Karmann Ghia read six-forty in the morning as I pulled out of the parking lot by the old Flying Tigers building and onto Banshee Road. I was in a hot shower, my mouth around my sweet George's penis by seven. Kristin joined us in bed. After each of my lovers had given me a sweet orgasm, and I ate my lovely girl's beautiful fragrant twat, George gave me the news from Sunday.
I was not surprised. Mom and dad were thinking very seriously about giving up life on the road. Dad had been at it since he got out of the Air Force, that was thirty-one years ago. We had a few more minutes before Eva would be waking the children for breakfast. So Kristin laid face up, her cute ass upon the bed, in the smaller of the servant's rooms while George proceded to slowly fuck her her legs extend up along his torso. Straddling her, I placed my pussy in Kristin's face and holding him around his shoulders and trapping Kristin's legs I started to french-kiss my brother.
We made a perfect living equilateral triangle. Mr. Greene, our old high school math teacher back home would have been so very proud of us.
***
I woke up Tuesday afternoon at five o'clock. After making love together and with Kristin last night, well actually this morning, George and I had slept naked and intertwined together in the little square bedroom. I did not have a flight tonight; he had the eleven o'clock flight to Illinois. But before that we had a rebuilt Continental R-9 radial engine for one of our three Beechcraft Model Eighteens, 'Millie,' 'Ferdinand' and 'Icarus,' to pick up over at Parks in Illinois.
Punch had borrowed a truck and had driven it to our house earlier. The three of us would grab an early dinner and go. We got up and found Punch. Kristin was in the kitchen making Eggplant Parmesan. She was removing the slices of those gigantic berries from a brine solution, breading them and browning them in olive oil. Once they emerged from the skillet they went into a pair of large trays atop a wondrous smelling Arrabbiata sauce.
Being a wonderful and thoughtful person Kristin had made us three portions of pasta shells stuffed with ricotta and egg mixture. They sat in the same spicy sauce made from onion, garlic, plum tomatoes, and red peppers, and were covered in the same shredded parmesan cheese that would later be added to the eggplant dish. We were out before six when everyone else sat down for dinner, and back and out of the shower by eight o'clock.
Jamie left after dinner for our seven o'clock departure west. We spent some time with the kids and helped put them to bed as Lillian was leaving for the nine o'clock flight south. George had the eleven o'clock east, so we got to play together tonight. I hoped we hadn't made him too tired to fly after spit-roasting me, Kristin and Eva in turn with Punch. He did not seem to be complaining.
After George left, I bounced the idea of having another discussion with Sam about options off of Punch and Eva. Sam's business was expanding, we had just about as perfect a record as was possible in the 'Loo. Mom and dad were looking at giving up the road. We could teach them the dispatch and they could chose a location to settle down. We could find better schools for the kids or a situation where we could start one ourselves.
Everyone was on board with the idea of exploring options. After Eva and Kristin went to bed, Punch and I snuggled together and watched an old move, 'Cape Fear' with Robert Mitchum and Gregory Peck. It could be hard to swap back and forth between flying all night and being off so I usually just made a half adjustment. I liked the movie and I loved being in the arms of Beau's father. But on that night, my mind was on the impenetrable wall of idiocy I faced on Monday.
***
9:50 AM MONDAY
After parking in the circle at the school, I stopped in the office, and tried to be friendly as I said, "hi," to the school secretary, Mrs Jacobs. The poor woman had no short term memory whatsoever.
"You are," she said.
"Lisa Saunders," I said extending my right hand.
"You are, Stuart's mother?" she said questioningly, as if we had never met before.
"In a manner of speaking, Jamie and I are his mothers and George is his father," I said politely as if it was the first time I had ever spoken to her. From her point of view it probably was.
"Is Stuart your son."
