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on top of me. She guided my saliva covered pleasure stick in her tight young pussy. She told me she felt so full she rode me like a stallion in that cockpit. Then she leaned down and kissed my ear and whispered in my ear that she wanted me to cum in her ass. She slid off of me and turned around to place her asshole at the tip of my cock. I slid my pulsating cock in her ass as she rested her breasts on the instrument panel, thats like the dashboard in your car. I fucked her hard and she was begging for more, finally I said I was going to cum. I could feel my balls twitch as my cock pulsated and shot load after load of cum deep into her waiting ass feeling her ass tighten as she came with me. She said she could feel my vein throbbing cock pulsate inside her as it pumped her full of cum. When I pulled out of her she let out a cute little raspy fart then slid her thong back in place over her gaping puckered hole so my cum would not drip out. Then she went back down on me licking and sucking her cunny juices off of my cock and balls to leave no trace on me of what happened. She then finished putting on her clothes and buttoning up her vest when the First Officer called on the intercom telling us he was done and ready to come back in. She then kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear, "Thanks for letting me in the Mile High Club" then opened the door and let the First Officer back in and she went back to her passengers to continue the services. When we were done for the day and were going to our hotel rooms she gave the First Officer her well-used Thong and said see you next time, but thats for him to tell you that one. Capt. MileHigh

546 Main Street, on the corner of Carolina Avenue - somehow that address has figured large in my life for nearly 20 years now. Things always seemed to just "happen" there, good and bad. These days its a Starbucks coffee shop but in my teenage years it was "Carlos Ice Cream and Soda". Back then, we used to hang out at Carlos, share blissful hours listening to the old jukebox and flirting with all the local boys. Hanging out there after school and at weekends we learned about life, dreamed of escaping our small town, made friends over cokes and lost friends when we heard theyd driven their fathers Buick into the river. It was there I met my first lover, my first husband and it was there, much more recently, that . . . oh, Im getting ahead of myself. Old habits die far too hard and even today, on any given Saturday, I spend an hour or two at 546 Main Street,


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sharing a coffee and all the latest small town gossip with my best friend of 20 years, Shanie. That particular Saturday we were a little earlier than normal, Shanie had an optometrists appointment and we planned to have our coffee before heading off to pick out some new frames for her. That evening Shanie planned to take time away from her young family and join me at a concert by one of our very own local boys made good; John Porter. John, or Johnny as we knew him, was born and raised in the next town, went to school with lots of us, made it to California and found success with his band. Most of us around here knew members of Johns band, hell I even dated his drummer, a long time ago. These days John still manages to hit the lower end of the Billboard charts with his CD releases, still tours all over the country, and still lives a Hollywood lifestyle. It had been a long time since he played his hometown, and a lot of us, especially those around my age who had known and gone to high school with John and his band, were looking forward to the concert. "So, your date with Ed wasnt a success then?" Shanie returned to our table and set my second latte in front of me. She immediately set about sipping her own cappuccino. "Nope." I thought back to the previous evening and my quiet dinner with a colleague who I thought might be poised to be something more. Ed was a nice guy, but obviously shy and not ready to move on from his last girlfriend – I knew that, even if he didnt! Like most of my dates in the previous few years I started out with hopes of passion and finished the evening relieved that it was over. At thirty-three, fit and still with most of my looks intact, I craved companionship, intellectual stimulation and passionate lovemaking like never before. Having been through one husband and sixteen lovers of various skill-levels and durations, I was running out of options in our small town. "Im figuring all the decent men have moved away now." I wistfully stared into the froth on my drink. "Not much left out there that I havent dated, loved or been stood-up by." "Im sure theres someone out there doesnt fall into that category." Shanie tried to be positive. "But theyd probably fall through the door drunk every night." "Thank goodness Ive got Frank," Shanie started off down a familiar monologue about how her husband was always ready for her, was such a good lover and had the biggest cock in town. I always thought that, knowing Shanies history, she was well-placed to judge. Self preservation had me switching off from the conversation at this point, a lack of sexual activity for over a year now had me wondering if I would ever know what a cock felt like inside me again, never mind finding a good man to share a good