Chapter 16
Final Landing
I had only one day off, and I was again convinced this was company policy because during that one day I had decided I wasn't brave enough to continue flying as a career. However, the next flight was an I.T. (Inclusive Tour), and as it was only to Palma and back, I decided to give it one more try. I drove out to Heathrow, but found when I got there the incoming aircraft had been diverted to Gatwick Airport because of fog. When the whole crew had assembled we were driven down to Gatwick. We hung around for a couple of hours because visibility was bad there, too. Eventually it cleared enough for takeoff. We had a divinely nutty Polish captain, an engineer, and a first officer. No nav was carried on short haul.
These I.T.s were usually complete chaos, as the passengers didn't have numbered seats. I freely admit that I used to retire to the lav and lock myself in until the passengers were seated. "Little Johnny" always wanted a seat by the window. Families of ten couldn't comprehend why they couldn't all sit together, and the best and only thing to do was to let them fight it out among themselves. I did one of these flights once with an exceptionally brave Number One. As she saw the mob stampede like a herd of cattle to the aircraft, she stood at the top of the steps and screamed, to the delight of the cabin crew and the horror of the passengers, "Stand back, you buggers, and board in an orderly fashion."
The passengers were so taken aback that they obeyed her every word, but despite her interference one guy broke his leg in the crush! If as sometimes happened you ran out of duty-free booze on the way back, you almost got lynched. One woman on one of these flights actually asked me if I would open the window for her, as she was too hot by the end of the flight. I wished I had been able to open it for her and her whole family! Our present passengers were more subdued than the usual mob, and we settled them in and secured the cabin for takeoff.
I was sitting in the Number Two seat in the ladies' powder room. Britannias do not take off at a great incline like jets do, when the aisle looks like a perilously steep pathway. Brits tend to lumber along at a nice even speed and haul themselves with what seems like difficulty into the air. From my jump seat I could see we were well off the ground, but we appeared to be flying along on a level plain instead of climbing steadily until we reached our cruising altitude. I could see the tops of tall buildings which looked alarmingly close. I knew something was radically wrong. I got out of my seat and walked slowly up the length of the cabin to the sharp end. I wanted to run to find out what was happening, but knew if I did the passengers would become extremely agitated long before it was necessary.
The girl who was flying in charge on this trip seemed a real dummy. She hadn't even noticed anything was wrong. I opened the cockpit door and went in. It was freezing cold outside, and the air in the cockpit was equally icy. I noticed to my horror that all the flight deck were sweating profusely. The captain turned his head and seemed surprised to see me.
"Where's the Number One?" he asked.
"She's sitting in her jump seat because the seat belt signs are still on," I replied and continued, "but I felt sure something was wrong, so I came to find out." The captain told me not to worry.
"That's okay," I replied. "I've already had one risky landing in Istanbul." I sounded much more confident than I felt. Fingers of ice gripped my heart.
"Oh, well, you're a veteran at this sort of thing," the captain said, giving me a bright smile which was obviously forced. "As you've no doubt noticed, we are not gaining altitude." He went on to explain what had happened; I didn't understand all of what he told me, but realized we would have to return to base. Before we could do that, however, we had to jettison fuel.
I made an announcement to the passengers telling them that owing to slight (Ha! Ha!) technical difficulties we would be returning to Gatwick Airport. We served them with coffee while the captain jettisoned the fuel into the sea. One woman was so frightened that she wet herself sitting in her seat. The four of us smiled and chatted and answered questions, and the bulk of the passengers remained calm.
There was one couple I noticed who were particularly terrified. The woman's knuckles were white as she gripped the arm rests. I smiled at them and tried to cheer them up by chatting with them, 'but to no avail. This was their third attempt to reach Palma by aircraft, but because of technical difficulties or inclement weather conditions they had had to return. The other girls on the crew were as terrified as the passengers, and so was I, but I told the girls about my experience in Istanbul and how easy and safe it had been. Inwardly I wasn't feeling very cheerful. I thought maybe as this was the second time, and especially as it was consecutive, my number was definitely up. The Number One let me assume almost complete control because out of the four of us I was the only one with experience of a real emergency. The others had only done emergency drills on the ground, which is totally different because the element of fear is not involved.
I made an announcement to the passengers informing them that we would be landing shortly at Gatwick because of bad weather at Heathrow. A few moments later the captain called me to the flight deck and told me Gatwick had closed because of zero weather conditions. Therefore I had to tell the passengers that we had altered course and were heading for Heathrow, as the weather there had improved slightly. What I didn't tell them was that we all had our fingers crossed because now that we had very little fuel on board, we had to get in somewhere and quickly! I strapped myself in for landing and hoped for the best. We came out of the cloud, and I saw to my horror that the runway was over to the left. We overshot and came in for another try. Again we weren't above the runway. The next time, we just had to make it because you are only allowed three attempted landings at any one airport, and then you must try somewhere else. I held my breath and prayed. We came bumping out of the murky low cloud halfway up the runway. We touched down. The props went into reverse thrust, and we stopped right at the end of the runway. We turned and taxied to the terminal building. We saw the passengers off the aircraft. The badly frightened couple asked me if I wanted or knew anybody who wanted two free tickets to Palma, because they were not getting on another aircraft. I replied in the negative. Little did they know I wasn't getting on another aircraft, either.
I went to the flight deck. The captain was swearing like a trooper. They had had a very rough time on landing because apart from the weather something had gone wrong with his controls, and he'd had to hand over to the first officer at the most crucial moment. We went back to the crew room. The captain made a joke about having to change his trousers! Normally we would have hung around until the aircraft was serviceable once more, but the captain had had enough and knew he and his men would be out of hours before the aircraft was fixed. Bless his lovely heart! He gave us all permission to go home, too.
As soon as I got home, I phoned my dear friend Adam who wrote the preface. He listened patiently to my non-ending tale of woe, and although it was in the wee small hours of the morning he came around immediately, carrying an iced magnum of champagne. We opened the bottle and took it and two glasses to bed. We spent the whole day in bed sucking and sinping.
When Adam calls me "nice," he really means it. Yet like most people I am not nice a hundred percent of the time. I know at times I have aggravated and annoyed him beyond endurance, but I have nearly always done this with a purpose. Please don't think for one moment I am trying to excuse my nastiness or that I am trying to say I am never a first-class bitch. Adam was and is by his own admission a bit dotty about me, and while I loved being worshipped and adored to excess, there are moments when this almost dog-like devotion drives me to distraction. At times I loved him with a passion and hated him with fervor. Adam very rarely blew his cool with me, but there were times when I incited him to riot, although there was never any malice behind his anger. I loved him best out of bed when he was riled and best of all in bed with the lights out so I couldn't see him at all-as I used to say to tease him!
Adam was a perfect gentleman at times and so vague at others he gave the impression of having no manners at all. I don't recollect ever having met anyone who was quite so vague and untidy in his worst moments. He was exceptionally shrewd and practical at his best. He always accused me of being supersensitive, but when I got upset because of my sensitivity he never failed to calm me and restore order to my life. Now I was downright terrified, and even though I had made up my mind to stop flying, I knew he would be the answer to all my ailments.
He leaped into bed with all the eagerness and erectness of a sixteen-year old. I watched him as he hopped into bed. He was tall, scrawny, and ancient. I'm not being cruel when I say this, as this is Adam's own description of himself. That's at first sight. When he smiled, his craggy face turned into that of a naughty schoolboy, and when I made him laugh, he looked endearingly delicious. Looking back on our relationship I realize that sometimes I wanted him more than I could bear, and yet other times I never even gave him a thought. But he always came to me if I needed him in any way, and I had tried to return the compliment. Thus our relationship had blossomed through the years. I knew he was sure to be in at the hour of the morning I had called him.
He took me in his arms as though I was as fragile as a Dresden china figure. He stroked my hair and face, and then my arms, as one would comfort a small terrified animal. I lay there silently while his caresses calmed my shattered nerves. He knew me so well, and although he wanted to fuck me immediately, never in all his stroking did he once touch my breasts or my pussy. I would have repulsed him, for all I needed at that precise moment was a great deal of cuddling. He also knew I would come around in my own time and fuck the living daylights out of him. He wasn't an over-imaginative lover, but terribly considerate and conscious of what I needed from him and when I needed it. In his favor, too, he had tremendous staying power and a nice big fat cock with which he could fuck for hours on end. Altogether he wasn't bad for an oldie!
"It's amazing," Adam said, "how innocent your face looks when you lie down waiting to be fucked. You look like a delicate child who doesn't know what a cock feels or even looks like. I can't believe looking at you that you are the same girl who goes wild in bed, who behaves like an angry rat, who is mad to suck cocks, and be sucked and fucked in return."
As he talked softly to me I felt myself growing eager and wet between the thighs. I moved against him gently, pressing my naked form against his. His large blue eyes looked straight into mine as I rolled over and mounted him. I lay still for a second on top of him and pressed my lips to his. One of the best things about Adam was the fact that he loved to kiss. Far too many men just want to fuck and forget about kissing a girl. Kissing and caressing are so important. Adam loved to be kissed by me. I put my tongue far into his mouth. He let his hang loose while I pushed it around or sucked it into my mouth. His hands clasped my buttocks and pulled me to him. I could feel mv blood rising and along with it a great and urgent need for Adam's manhood to be inside me.
He turned me over and took the helm and steered his warship straight into my harbor. He loved to fuck wildly, erratically pushing himself as far into me as possible. But he knew that in my present mood, I would prefer a slow soft pedaling to tremendous thrusts. He reached across and got my glass of champagne off the bedside table. He tilted my head up with one hand and held the glass at an angle so I could sip slowly. Meanwhile his cock wasn't idle for a minute. He put down the glass and kissed me. That time he led and I followed. He flicked his tongue around and around and then right back down my throat until I thought I might surely suffocate. I clutched at him. He loved to be pinched and scratched while making love and was very proud afterwards of his marked body. He started to grind slowly into me with circular movements. He knew this was something I loved above all other methods of fucking. Somehow in this slightly sideways and circular fashion of screwing I could maintain the feeling a woman gets just before orgasm. Normally it's a brief sweet moment when you know you are going to come, and nothing in the world can stop it happening. If my lover keeps still after having started me off and lets me do the moving I can stay in limbo for many, many minutes instead of a brief second. Adam knew me so well I didn't have to tell him not to move. The slightest movement on his part would have destroyed the delicate balance I had set up.
Adam often marveled at my control and the way I went after what I wanted in bed, but in getting what I wanted (which was a cock-filled cunt) I gave un-stintingly in return. After all my anxiety, I was floating in a flood of fabulous fantasy. All my troubles seemed a million miles away. I even forgot Adam, but never his cock, which he let me manipulate to my own ultimate pleasure and satisfaction. Every time I felt I was going over the brink to burst and gush with love juice I slowed myself down. Then by rotating my hot juicy cunt around Adam's cock I worked myself up to a feverish pitch of excitement again. I suppose it was really like masturbating, except a real live throbbing cock was better than even my agile fingers. I take my hat off to men who know how to use the tremendous tool they have been endowed with. Suddenly I reached the point of no return. This time I couldn't and didn't want to control myself. I scratched Adam's back and cried out again and again in pure pleasure. My cunt took over completely from my brain. I thrashed, a bit, and dug my nails into Adam's firm flesh in my passion. It was a solo affair, as Adam hadn't come with me. I lay back exhausted and completely fulfilled. I had come, but I still had the untold joy of a stiff cock within me.
I smiled up at Adam, for I knew he was going to do me his way. I clawed at him until he could take no more, and he forced my arms down onto the bed. I turned my head to one side and lowered it so I could lick his armpits as he plunged into me. With cries of, "Yes! Yes! Yes!" he gushed into me with all the force of a jet of water coming out of a hose pipe. We were one lovely, spunky, saturated mess. Sadly his cock diminished in size, but happily it stayed in the place that was tailor-made for it. We lay panting like two athletes who had completed a four-minute mile. We were awash in a vast orgasmic ocean.
As Adam lay still and soft beside me, I started to tell him of other lovers I had taken recently. Bless his heart! He tried so hard not to be jealous, but it pleased me, of course, that he was! His cock went rigid inside me as I told him of all the young men with beautiful bodies I had been to bed with on my trip before last. His face grew angry and his cock furious and rock hard, and it pounded into me over and over again. We came together suddenly, violently, and briefly. He was superb in his anger. His cock felt as though all the blood in his body had rushed into it. It was as if a red-hot bomb had gone off in my cunt. I looked up at him and laughed.
"You're beautiful when you're mad. You're divine when you get furious, and the crosser you get, the more turned-on you become," I said.
"I've never known a girl like you," Adam said. "It's like going to bed with an octopus. Your arms and legs multiply and wrap themselves around my body. You make love with your whole body; even your toes move. And you don't waste any movement. Every flick of your finger and twitch of your toe is directed at ultimate pleasure. You fulfill my wildest dreams of passion, darling Fiona."
He withdrew his weapon and bent his head until it rested between my thighs. He licked and sucked at my clit until he had drained every drop of moisture from my hidden well. His tongue felt as big and as livid as his cock as he twisted and turned it in my honey-pot. Having sucked me as dry as the Gobi desert, Adam proceeded to poke a finger into my pussy. It moved with the grace of a ballet dancer doing a pirouette. Within seconds his finger was saturated by my pussy-puss. It was oozing and gushing over his finger and down my flaming inside thigh. Somehow we had worked our way down my double bed, and Adam was kneeling on the floor, and my bottom was balanced on the edge of the bed. I felt around with my foot and found his cock. T rolled it around with the ball of mv foot. I could feel it growing to delicious dimensions under my manipulation. Adam stopped finger-fucking me and stood up. Then he bent and turned me over, shoving a pillow under my tummy so that my bottom was sticking up in the air. He took his tool in his hand and pointed it at my crotch. I felt it nosing its way around in my outer portals, and before I knew it, he had penetrated the silky soft walls of my cunt. He banged away up and into me hoisting me inches off the bed until I thought my buttocks would divide. It was as though a large blow torch had been turned full blast on my pussy, and its hot flame was burning away my insides. Adam became extremely violent in his fucking. I was on the point of passing out with pain when pleasure took over. We came together again, struggling for air.
I was shattered and drifted off into a heavy, dreamless sleep. I'd been up for hours and been fucking for what seemed a lifetime. I awoke suddenly when I felt a warm sticky substance spill onto my face. I opened my eves and saw that Adam was kneeling astride my head with his cock in his hand. I lay horrified as his fountain of sperm spilled all over my face and hair. My first reaction was to be very angry at his behavior and his taking advantage of me in such a wav. Then I started to laugh, for Adam looked so mortified that I'd caught him in the act.
"Whatever made you do that?" T asked. "Surely vou would rather I was awake and enjoying it. You know me well enough by now to realize I'd do anything you asked."
He replied, "You suddenly fell into such a deep sleep while my prick was still inside you. I tried to wake you, but couldn't, so I decided to try out a few experiments while you slept. Apart from masturbating over your face I opened your legs and forced them back as far as they would go, and my tongue explored at least five inches up your cunt. It was heavenly to have you completely submissive and to think that I could do anything I wanted with you. I even thought of buggering you, but decided not to, in case you woke up and threw a fit which might damage our relationship. I felt all around your lovely little ass-hole, but just kissed and fingered it gently. Anyway, you seemed to enjoy it, because you were uttering little moans of pleasure in your sleep," he concluded.
"I didn't feel a thing," I retorted, "and anyway, if you really wanted to bugger me, you could have had the courtesy to ask. I'd probably have said no, but that's just tough luck. I don't do anything I don't feel like doing. It's not that I'm selfish. I just do what comes naturally in bed, and that doesn't, as yet."
Adam just smiled and got some tissues to mop up my face. Then his every-ready serpent was snaking its way into my love cave. His cock was definitely snake-like. It loved warm, dark places to nestle in. My cunt felt as though the snake had given birth to a hundred other snakes which were taking over my body. I just kept coming and coming, and so did Adam. Eventually we were both utterly exhausted. I don't think Adam could have raised a hard even if BB and Sophia L had jumped on him bare-ass and given him head.
We awoke at midday and started on another bout. We lay side by side, arms crossed over as we tenderly touched each other between the legs until I sprang forth like a mountain stream, and Adam's cock filled my hand. We fucked. We loved. We kissed. We laughed. Our sexual appetite for each other seemed endless. In my case, perhaps T wanted to put out all thoughts of flying forever. In Adam's case it was sheer lust and love of me and my body. When we were finished, I lay limply back.
Adam said, "You look like a beautiful pale dead lily floating corpse-like on a pool of passion. Your hair is spread out like fine auburn seaweed."
When we were finished fucking we talked quietly. I had almost forgotten my fear of flying. Adam said maybe I should give it one more try.
"After all," he said, "you seem to thrive on flying and fucking," but he concluded, "whatever you decide to do, I know you'll make the right decision for yourself."
By the time Adam had to leave me, we had spent almost the entire week in bed. His final spoken words to me were that I was a consummate lover. He kissed the twins he loved to fondle and the cunt he loved to lick a solemn farewell as if they were quiet separate beings from the rest of me. Then he left. I felt sad to see him go, but convinced I was going to embark on a new career which I would never tire of. My innermost thoughts were right. I lay holding my pussy and thinking of the future. What lies ahead for a devoted lover of men and sex? Some of you know, some of you don't. I will reveal all in my next book. Men, T love you and your sublime cocks, and the only way to go is the way I'm going, cocksure and happy!
A few days after Adam had left, I received the following letter from him. It moved me more than any letter I have ever received. I shall treasure it always. He understood me so well. Apart from our loving moments, there had been other moments not so loving. I accept that they were entirely my own fault. I was distraught, frightened, and upset. I was not sure of where I was going or what would become of me. Adam stayed with me a whole week gratifying my passions, putting up with my petulance and ill temper. I would like to end my first attempt at writing about a small portion of my life with these words from Adam, who suffered greatly and loves me with an everlasting passion.
"My darling Fiona:
"I want you to know I miss you and that I much loved my days with you, however cross you were. I have never met anybody like you before and will not again. You have a capacity for making love that I thought was beyond mortal women. To live with you for a week is a pleasure beyond belief. I send you my love, and I mean what I say. I miss your furies and your contempt and your reluctant smile and the sight of your beautiful face.
"Your loving Adam"