‘Is it alright if I take Janey for a picnic tomorrow, Mrs Carter?’
Mum was a little reluctant but she agreed. So he picked me up, gave Mum some tinned meat and he took me for a picnic and taught me how to fly.
He’d spread out the blanket and we sat down and then he took me in his arms. We kissed and I felt his shoulders and back and rough chin and the smell of his oiled hair and his masculinity, there was no deodorant in those days. I pressed my body into his, feeling its warmth and strength and his hands were on my hips and waist and bit by bit moved over my bottom, caressing then gripping. Without realising, I’d opened my legs and his hips were between them and I could feel his hardness and I wanted him but I knew I shouldn’t and I had to push him away.
‘What’s the matter, babe?
‘We shouldn’t, I want to but we shouldn’t.’
‘I’m sorry babe, I just got carried away, you’re so gorgeous. Here,’ he said, leaning back and spreading his legs, ‘look what you’re doing to me.’ He nodded down to his crotch. I could see a large bulge in his trousers.
‘Is it uncomfortable?’
He undid his trousers and released his cock. It stood proud and rigid in front of me.
‘Not any more it’s not,’ he said, smiling, a glint in his eye. I’d never seen a cock before. I was surprised by its size, it looked regal.
‘Do you like it babe?’ I was fascinated. ‘Why don’t you touch it? it won’t bite.’ He laughed. I reached out and touched the tip. It twitched. I withdrew my hand, giggling.
‘Do you know what a joystick is, Janey?’
I shook my head.
‘When we fly planes we use a joystick to direct the plane. You move it around to control the direction of the plane. Now, if you learn to manage a man’s joystick you can take him anywhere you want. Would you like me to teach you?’
He was still smiling that wicked smile and I laughed and nodded.
‘OK, babe. First of all take a firm grip. Go on.’
I curled my fingers around his cock and was surprised by its warmth.
‘That’s it, babe, just a little higher.’
I adjusted my grip and felt the ridge of his glans under my curled forefinger. ‘That’s it, babe, perfect, now I’m ready to fly.’
I could feel his cock pulsing in my grip.
‘Now, babe, with a plane’s joystick you move it from side to side and back and forth, but with a man’s joystick you move it up and down. Just give it a try.’
I moved my hand clumsily up and down his cock.
‘Oh, babe, that’s wonderful …now, a little bit faster.’ He lay back and I watched his eyes shut and his hips push upwards as I moved my hand up and down his hard, warm cock.
‘A little faster, babe, that’s it …oh, babe …that’s it.’
And then he bucked and ejaculated a spray of white semen and he cried out and I screamed in surprise. No one had ever told me about this. He laughed and I fell back giggling. He sat up.
‘Oh, Janey, that was fantastic.’ He cupped my chin in his hand and kissed me.
Johnny gave me a lot of flying lessons after that. It was such fun. I learnt the basics first, grip, tempo, pressure and having mastered these I moved on to other areas. And somehow my mouth was drawn to his cock. Delicious. Smooth, warm and so beautifully hard and I loved the way it deflated after I’d drawn its precious juices. Then I’d stroke it back to its full magisterial poise and we’d start all over again.
And then the time he brought me to orgasm. I was on my knees, my head bent over his lap, one hand cupping his balls, the other gripping his cock. He’d been running his hand under my dress, up and down my thigh, brushing over my bottom. I was becoming agitated, I knew I shouldn’t let him go there but my pussy was juicy and aching to be touched and I raised my bottom slightly and his fingers had eased themselves inside me. I sat on his hand and his fingers wriggled and played me to orgasm and all I could do was hold on to his cock and cry out into the summer air. After that, there was no stopping me. He christened me ‘Plane Jane’, and I got to fly him regularly, and his flying lessons became the focus of my life.
I used to see the planes flying over in formation and coming back from missions regularly, but I don’t think I fully understood the danger they were in and the crucial role they were playing in protecting the country from invasion. It was only years later that I read about the Eagles, the Americans who volunteered to fight as pilots in the R.A.F., before their country had entered the war.
I turned to my granddaughter. ‘I met my first boyfriend here,’ I said, ‘he was an American pilot, very handsome.’
She giggled. ‘I can just imagine you holding hands together under an apple tree, must have been very risqué in those days.’
‘Yes, I suppose it was.’ I smiled to myself. Yes, everything was very innocent then, just as sex should be, but God was it exciting and exhilarating. I’ve never topped the excitement of those first experiences. My mind took me back to that last picnic. It was the beginning of July, another wonderfully sunny day. The day Johnny Genarro flew me to heaven.
We lay kissing and, feeling him harden, I pushed away from him and began to undo his trousers.
‘Time to fly,’ I said, easing his cock from his trousers.
‘Final lesson today, Janey. If you pass this you’ll get your wings. I’m taking you further than you’ve been, so you need to trust me. Do you trust me Janey?’ His eyes had the devil in them, but a gentle devil. His cock, as usual, was rigid and I began to stroke and caress it. I hadn’t seen him for almost a week and I was already wet, I wanted his fingers inside me.
I nodded. ‘Of course I trust you,’ and I parted my legs and he eased his fingers into me. Immediately, I began to gasp and Johnny watched me, smiling, then, just as I felt myself about to come, he withdrew his hand, rolled away from me and reached into his jacket pocket.
‘Oh, don’t stop, not yet, Johnny.’ I was still gripping his cock.
‘See this Janey?’ He was tearing open a packet and from it he took out something I hadn’t seen before.
‘It’s a rubber, it means I can really make love to you and we can both enjoy it and there won’t be any risk.’
I watched as he sat up and rolled the sheath over his cock and I laughed at the sight of it and he laughed. Then he kissed me, rolled me onto my back, lifted my skirt and filled me and the sensation was indescribable and as he filled me, again and again, I kept shouting his name and then he withdrew. He knelt up and began removing his clothes and I did the same and then we lay naked in the fresh orchard and fucked and fucked and it was glorious.
Afterwards, as I lay in his arms, he reached over to his jacket and took off a small metal brooch.
‘Here,’ he said, laughing, ‘you earned your wings today, Janey, you flew me to heaven. I don’t think there’s another pilot that could do that.’
I pinned the brooch to my dress.
‘Well, it’s a fine plane,’ I said, ‘you need a good machine if you’re going to fly properly.’
He laughed and then he said, quite seriously, ‘Janey, when this is finished, will you come home to America with me? You’d love it there and I can introduce you as the British flying ace that could fly a man to heights he’d never been and make him perform like no other. Whaddya think?’
That day was the happiest of my life.
I never saw Johnny again. He was shot down whilst escorting a convoy of bombers over Calais.
I fingered the brooch on my dress.
‘He taught me how to fly,’ I muttered.
My granddaughter squeezed my hand.
‘I’m sure he did grandma, I’m sure he did.’
Fire Down Below
by Landon Dixon
You see plenty of wildlife from a hundred-foot-high fire tower. Especially with a pair of high-powered binoculars.
I was manning Tower #2 in the national park one fine, sunny morning, sweeping the treetops with my glasses for any hot spots, when I flashed
on to some wild life that soon turned yours truly into one raging inferno. Two camping girls engaged in an early morning skinny dip.
Nothing too unusual, I thought initially. But as a Park Ranger fully trained in water safety, and legally constituted to enforce the ordinance on public nudity, I felt it my duty to monitor the situation; make sure the two women didn’t get into any trouble, or cause too much. So I zoomed in on the bobbing water nymphs, pulling them right up into my cloud-scraping platform with the powerful lenses.
They were up to their necks in the sparkling blue wet stuff, but I could tell they were buff by their bare shoulders – not a swimsuit strap or bikini string in sight. One girl was a blonde, the other a brunette. They both had pretty faces, the blonde, blue eyes and a diamond stud in her right nostril, the brunette, brown eyes and the plushest pair of lips I’d ever ogled from distance.
They were laughing and yelling and splashing water at one another, enjoying nature in the raw; as I enjoyed their raw, playful natures. And telepathically urged them to move into shallower waters – where my hungry eyes could feed more fully.
But then something even more dramatic happened, something that will be burned into my memory for ever, like the first time I met Smokey the Bear. The brunette dipped her head down and dove underwater. And then the blonde suddenly burst up out of the water and into the air, propelled skyward by her mischievous playmate, breaking the surface bare and glistening and big, big busted!
My eyeballs almost popped the glass lenses. Blondie’s tremendous sun-burnished, tan-lined breasts flung up into the clear, blue heavens like twin Free Willys, water streaming off their velvety skins, pink nipples snouting up and out, poking holes in the sunshine. Until gravity did its worst and they and she flopped back down into the water with a heavy splash, swallowed up by the lucky lake once again.
I took a step back, tingling all over, a tree growing up in my Ranger-issue khaki shorts. Then I gave my dizzied head a shake and screwed the spyglasses back into my eye sockets. And was hit between the peepers by another thunderous set of breasts – the brunette’s this time. She’d discovered the sandbar in the middle of the lake and climbed aboard, baring herself to the watching world from the waist up, showing off a pair every bit as breathtakingly large as her blonde gal-pal’s, only tanned all over.
My legs buckled. My mouth and eyes watered, wooden pole tenting my shorts like the horniest of happy campers.
This was a fire tower once-in-a-lifetime observation too good to pass up without the proper acknowledgement. So, violating every rule of decorum in the Park Service book, I unzipped and pulled my log out into the open, commenced rubbing like a Jack London character desperate to build a fire.
Just in time, too. Because now Blondie had joined her breast-bud on the sandbar, both girls bare-chestedly exposed to the warm sunshine and my perverted, prying eyes. They danced around kicking water at each other, giggling and shrieking, boobs flopping and flapping, nipples bouncing.
My binoculars bounced right along, capturing the latticework of tiny blue veins all around the blonde’s shockingly pink areolas, the satiny-white, untanned skin that was normally hidden by a swimsuit almost blinding me. I swung over to encompass and count the pebbles on the brunette’s enormous, caramel-coloured nipple halos, to survey the entire gleaming, golden expanses of her breasts. All the while stroking and stroking and stroking my hardwood.
The binoculars shook in my right hand, as my cock stretched in my left. And then we hit Code Red on the Fire Warning Chart. As Blondie splashed over to the brunette and fell into her arms. And the two women stopped playing around and started fooling around.
They gazed into each other’s eyes, their bodies and boobs pressed hotly together. Their slickened heads moved forward, arms squeezing tighter, until their wettened lips touched, stuck.
I had to wring the head of my cock like the neck of a chicken, to keep from exploding. Even Old Faithful would’ve blown early exposed to the blistering sight of those two freshwater mermaids lip and tit-locked together in a lovers’ embrace.
I ogled the scorching scenery for all I was worth, not giving a damn if the whole picturesque, Congress-protected park went up in flames on my watch. And when Blondie caressed the side of her girlfriend’s blossomed-out breast, stroking and rubbing the shining skin, I just couldn’t hold back any longer. I had a raging fire down below and only one way to douse it.
“Come-bombs away!” I yowled at the smooching sirens, cock going off in my jerking hand.
White-hot semen jetted out of my cap and sailed clear over the metal railing, splashing down a hundred feet in the forest below, the whole tower shaking right along with me. I struggled to keep the jumping binoculars trained on the bussing, bumper-to-bumper babes, as I fisted like crazy, saluting their beauty and boldness with blast after blast.
Until, finally, they broke laughingly apart, just as the last of my seed soiled the earth down under. Holding hands, they plunged back into the deep water, submerging themselves and their, and my, lust in the warm liquid again.
I sank to my knees, totally devoid of warm liquid.
It took me a full minute to recover. Then I zipped up and then down, riding the tower ladder steel railings to the ground like I was sliding down a hundred-foot fire pole. Abandoning my post was the grossest dereliction of duty, especially with Big Betty, the arse-busting supervisor, due for inspection at any time. But this was a personal emergency of the highest urgency.
I piled into the Park jeep and burned pine needle, speeding out to the secluded beach where the hootered hotties freely frolicked offshore. And in five minutes flat-out, I was tumbling out of the rolling vehicle and racing over the grassy dunes that led to the water’s edge.
Skidding to a stop at the shoreline, I was just in time to get another sizzling eyeful, up-close and in-person this time.
The girls were swimming around in the glittering water, and floating around. Plump, boisterous buns flashing edible enough to sink your teeth into when they paddled; ripe, round breasts and rubbery nipples bobbing luscious enough to wrap your hands and mouth around when they floated. I watched the erotic water ballet, cock pumping up again, kernels in my nut sack popping.
And just before the girls caught on to my presence, I managed to gather up my senses enough to gather up their clothing strewn all over the beach and toss the whole bundle behind a bush. Then I pulled out my whistle and blew taps on their skinny dipping.
“OK, ladies, out of the water!” I bellowed. Then held my breath.
They stared at me and my uniform. Then started swimming, splashing, crawling towards me, using the water to blanket their bodies.
“This is a family camping area,” I croaked, when they were a mere twenty feet away from where I stood on shaky ground.
“Sorry,” the blonde said sweetly. “We were just having a little fun.”
The brunette nodded, grinning. “Yeah, we just got kind of carried away, I guess.” She glanced over at her girlfriend, and they both giggled. “Could you throw us our clothes, please?”
I looked around – elaborately – but just couldn’t seem to find their duds anywhere.
“Drat, someone must’ve stolen them,” the blonde lamented. “You didn’t happen to see any perverts lurking around here, did you, sir?”
Not without a mirror I didn’t. Then added out loud, “I’ll drive you ladies back to your campsite, and you can get dressed there.” I didn’t bother offering them any of the blankets we keep in the jeep.
They looked at each other, at the pressure-bulge in my khakis that was impossible to hide. And then they rose up out of the water.
I gazed at the dripping wet goddesses like the Greeks must’ve gazed at the Venus de Milo unveiled. Their breasts bumped and swayed, jounced and shimmied, as they waded towards me. And they were as bare below-the-waist as above; the both of them sporting strip-shaved pussies winking with moisture. My boggled eyes bounced back and forth between the pair like I was refereeing a game of nude beach v
olleyball.
“I’m Stacey,” the blonde said, four feet, and thirty-eight chest inches, away from me; naked as my lust. “And this is my friend, Holly.”
“P-park R-ranger P-phil,” I stammered.
Holly lifted up her arms and arched her slightly chunky body, stretching, pushing her breasts out into the neighbouring state almost. “Mmmm, that sun feels sooo good,” she purred. “And the water, too. We just couldn’t help ourselves, Park Ranger Phil.”
Stacey nodded, hugging herself around her ample waist and sighing, rocking from side-to-side. Her forearms all but disappeared, boobs swinging like overripe fruit on the vine. “You’re not going to arrest us, are you, Park Ranger Phil?”
I didn’t, couldn’t respond for a moment, hypnotized by the pendulum motion of her breasts. “Huh? Uh no, no,” I snapped back to life. “Usually I just issue a warning, or a small fine.”
“Oh,” Stacey cooed.
“That’s fair,” Holly breathed.
Sweat trickled down my palms and forehead, my cock throbbing in time to my racing pulse. As we all stood there looking at one another under the glaring sun.
Until Stacey suddenly strolled right up to me and touched the insignia on my left shoulder, her right breast reaching out and touching my bare arm, all warm and soft, rigid nipple pressing into corded forearm. “Could you possibly just let us go with a warning, Phil?” she asked.
Holly hit me up from the other side, running a finger along my hat brim, rack rising like buoys on a wave to swamp my right arm. “We’ll be good girls from now on, Phil. We promise.”
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