Chapter 1

The airport workers and the employees of American Southeast Services (ASS) never failed to smile when asked,

“Are there any direct flights to Boca Muerte?”

The destination was no longer on any schedule for any airline flying passenger traffic out of San Diego International Airport because of sporadic rioting and unrest with the local indigenous populace. The queer headhunting tribe of light-skinned natives in residence was known to lack any appreciation of the benefits of encroaching civilization. Most importantly, the fact that the only airfield in Boca Muerte was located in a low valley, with a badly placed mountain at the end of the too short runway, made it too dangerous, except for the smallest of airplanes or commercial passenger helicopters.

There was an epic legend of some illegal activities at the “Club Gato Negro” just outside Boca Muerte that caused the rumored dismissal of a number of employees of ASS during the special holiday for the celebration of the dead.

Where the truth ended and the lies began, nobody was absolutely certain, but if even half of it was true, it was understandable that scheduled flights to the place were out of the question.

The past year had seen the approaching demise of ASS as a viable competitor for passenger traffic at the San Diego Airfield due to their suspected involvement with organized cartels and dismissal of two long-time pilots for flying under the influence of a white-powdered substance known to cause addiction in all except a few hardy souls with amazing tolerance for such nonsense.

This unwanted notoriety caused ASS to lower their ticket prices and all of the employees were given a pay cut that made most of them turn to other sources of income to supplement their lifestyles.

Captain Bradley Shadow was on the verge of quitting his job as a helicopter pilot with ASS because of the disturbing pay cut and the fact that he was tired of being introduced jokingly as “The Man from ASS”. He had not been involved in the criminal activities at the “Club Gato Negro” down in Boca Muerte, but he was known to partake in illicit drugs from time to time and most of the female employees described him as both demanding and overly “rough” when it came to matters of a carnal nature. That reputation made in-house pussy hunting virtually a non-starter and he was forced to chase after female passenger charms with a pretense of acceptable behavior. Fortunately, he had not received any complaints because regardless of his methods, he was a man that always delivered the goods for feminine satisfaction as efficiently as he deposited his passengers to their final destination with a perfect record to date.

“Brad” was a favorite with the female passengers over the age of thirty because he never hesitated to take one of them to the rear washroom for a nice bend over the stainless steel sink. He loved the close-up looks at each other in the inches-removed mirror that reflected their facial contortions and he loved the muffled grunts and groans of high altitude coupling between total strangers in his favorite position of doing it “doggy-style”. The hostesses giggled at his transparent horny excursions and made a show of timing his behind a locked door adventures. It was rumored they were tagging him with the nickname of “ninety second Brad” behind his back and he swore he would find out who started that rumor and make her take it from behind a lot longer than a simple ninety seconds.

That gave pause to Happy Piper, the newest addition to the ASS hostess team because she had been rump roasted by Brad shortly after joining his flight as the junior hostess on the team. It was an experience she did not want to repeat anytime soon because she was unable to sit down comfortably for several days after her welcoming initiation into the ranks of ASS.

The co-pilot was an ex Air Force fighter pilot called Harry Walker.

Harry was one of those military types that enjoyed following orders and seemed a little bit lost in the civilian world where some degree of incentive was needed to stay ahead of the curve.

Brad was more than satisfied with Harry because he liked a team that simply followed orders and didn’t make him think too hard about all the alternatives to any issue. His favorite female was the type that knew when to get on their knees and when to bend over and bring matters at hand to a swift conclusion. He would rather have a few plain Janes like that instead of the “super-model” types the main office was in a habit of sending to learn the ropes out in the lesser traveled routes assigned to ASS traffic.

Senior ASS hostess Mercedes Macalister had been with the airline for almost three years and she had given Brad a ride on her perfect heart-shaped hips more than once. He seldom thanked her for her cooperation because he knew with perfect intuition that she had to have it and she wanted it from him more than any of the other pilots employed by ASS. Of course, she pretended it was all such a bore to give it up to him because of his cavalier attitude but he was certain she would say yes if he ever decided to ask her to marry him on the spur of the moment.

Recently, he had taken the liberty to navigate her narrow anal channel high in the clouds over endless horizons of green carpet trees without any sign of civilization in any direction at all.

Mercedes was not the type of female that appreciated having her private rear door forced open by the biggest ass thief in ASS even if he was her commanding officer and she was required to follow his instructions to the letter. She was ashamed of the fact that she had begged him not to shove his big thing up there like she was one of the girls at Mama Shirley’s down in Boca Muerte always ready to take it all the way up their rectal passageway, if the price was right.

It was only after a couple of weeks of heavy-duty ass humping that the super-model hostess grew accustomed to his size and his fit inside her private space. After that, she dropped her color-coordinated hostess uniform panties at his slightest suggestion hoping that the other crew members and the passengers didn’t suspect she was taking it all the way up her behind in the tiny restroom in the rear of the twelve passenger commercial helicopter with added storage space.