The Best Kind of Plummet [fullversion]

         Everything around me was a vibrating, roaring and shaking cacophony. I smiled to myself as I thought what an apt description that was, not only of the present situation, but also the “situation” yet to come. Glancing sideways, pretending there was a need for subtlety, I stared at the woman next to me. My imagination, operating on it’s own accord as usual, had taken the mere sight of her and traveled me back in time to the night before. A sweaty, warm, trembling, and dizzy night that had ended in a preposterous conversation that ended in an even more preposterous idea. It had seemed entirely outlandish at the time, even for us, yet here we were about to make good on what seemed, at the time, to be just creative pillow talk.

         I have heard many people complain about the small quarters of a Cessna A185, and granted it’s not a Boeing 747, but with a woman as intense as Karolyn; who would want to have space? My right hand agreed with this thought and responded by sliding over her slender thigh, covered only by a slinky black skirt, in a nonchalant fashion (with very not nonchalant motives).
         I kept my blue eyes fixed on the stringy brown hair of the pilot’s mullet directly in front of me, not needing to look to know the warm smirk creeping across her face. A more mischievous smile of my own appeared as my long fingers slipped under the silky fabric to brush against the even silkier skin of her inner thigh. The din around me made it impossible to be sure, but I could swear I heard her breathing change as two fingertips, ever so lightly, grazed the soft, trimmed hair between her legs. I knew I was supposed to wait, but I couldn’t contain myself. Still fixated, at least visually, on the pilot to make sure he was satisfactorily unaware of the events; my fingers danced and tickled their way up and down, just barely in, her warm slit.

         Now, I knew, I heard her breathing change as her small, manicured fingers gripped my tattooed forearm. It wasn’t a “stop” kind of grab either; this was obvious since her grip was also pulling, with surprising strength, my arm towards her. To be honest I didn’t resist much as my fingers slipped into her already damp, warm body. Her grip got tighter and my fingers moved faster, massaging her in places she would only ache afterwards. This teasing and stroking continued for at least five minutes, never really giving her much except the occasional feathered brush of two guitar string calloused fingertips across her swollen clit. Her long tan legs, now crossed to hide this from view, were trembling slightly by the time the pilot yelled back, “Hey folks, get ready! About five minutes!”

         Reluctantly I pulled my arm back and frowned over at her, an apology in my eyes. Her bright green eyes sparkled, declaring no need for an apology, though that might have been more from the previous activities. At my nudging Karolyn slid closer to the door and turned her back to me. The copilot, still unaware of what had just gone down (well not “gone down” though close) in his back seat, turned and helped me get the harness around her chest. I could see in his eyes, and the nervous shake in his hands, that things inside him begged for an accidental graze against Karolyn’s incredibly perky breasts.
         I couldn’t blame him, the girls were in top form today hidden from prying eyes only by a slightly too small red button up shirt. She loved to test the endurance of the average button, and I was often surprised how well they held; especially considering the strain on the upper several. Bo, our co-pilot, glanced at me several times, I’m sure to remind himself that a grope would not go unnoticed or unaddressed. When we got the harness secured around her, and connected to mine, he turned back around with an audible sigh. I just chuckled. “Ninety seconds!” declared the other voice from the front.

         Leaning forward, I nuzzled past Karolyn’s thick, black tresses and whispered against her ear, “Ready for this?” Her body trembling against mine was all the response I needed. I wrapped my long arms around her, under the guise of comforting her nervousness, and my still slick fingers quickly found their way under her skirt again. My fingers working faster now, paying swift attention to all the right spots, and reveling in the responding tremors. At the prompting of the pilot, I flung open the door with my other hand and lunged forward. The ruckus in the airplane could not compare to the roar of the air passing our ears. With my free hand I worked my sweat pants down off my hips, my fingers now caressing firmly, but slowly just around her throbbing sex.

         My smile was uncontainable as I held her hip with my free hand, and felt her legs spread just a bit. My own erection needed no prompting and with a practiced ease I pushed up under her skirt, feeling her wet heat against the tip of my pulsing cock. I could see her flushed cheeks, and quivering lips as she arched her head back next to mine, her eyes squeezed tight under the goggles. Thrusting in slow, deep motions I could barely breathe as I felt entirely engulfed by her trembling warmth, despite the cold air. My fingers giving full attention to her wet, needy clit with fast, hard circular strokes; I knew she was close. Her body began to spasm and tighten around me as my own muscles tensed with the heat building in my abdomen. As I had hoped the timing was perfect, and as I reached the end of the countdown I’d surprisingly managed to keep track of, I found the cord behind me.

         Moaning into her ear, with harder thrusts now, I urged her, “Cum baby, let it go” and pulled the cord with one final, simultaneous plunge. The chute, opening fast above our heads, filled with air and pulled us hard to a slower descent. It could not, however, do anything about the burning plummet we had both taken into climax. Karolyn’s tight body quaked and clenched around my pulsing cock as we drifted lazily through the air. I found her glistening neck with my nearly numb lips, kissing her while unenthusiastically withdrawing from her.

         In the remaining seconds of our descent, I managed to get my pants back up and brace myself for the landing. As my feet touched the soft sand, we collapsed in a still heaving heap. I could only laugh in agreement as she gasped out, “Fucking on the ground is for chumps.”