Flight 769 to Boca Muerte
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2018 by harry lime

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The airline was on its last legs. One more crash and they would have to declare bankruptcy. These flights to Boca Muerte were highly profitable even though they were skirting the limits of legality. The crew of flight 769 was ready to risk their lives again to make the airline a success.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Mult   Teenagers   Coercion   Consensual   Romantic   BiSexual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Workplace   Incest   Mother   Brother   Sister   Father   Humiliation   Spanking   Group Sex   Orgy   Anal Sex   Cream Pie   Exhibitionism   Masturbation   Oral Sex   Petting   Safe Sex   Sex Toys   Squirting   Voyeurism   Public Sex   Size   Violence  

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.

They generally flew fully loaded with all twelve passenger seats sold at much reduced rates to the moderately popular South American resorts off the beaten trail and with bargain room rates that fit the budget of fun-seeking younger people and bargain hunting females hoping to get laid without spending a fortune.

Their lack of added cargo items allowed them a longer range of flight than called for in the specs. It looked like they would make it all the way down to Boca Muerte without any need to stop to refuel along the route. That was a good point because a stop would mean an added two hours to the flight and he did not want to have that on his conscience at a time when he was doing his best to stay on schedule and out of trouble of any sort.

They only had three parties of passengers on this flight.

There was the large corporate contingent for the popular Spanish langue magazine that featured sleazy stories about famous celebrities that had been caught fooling around with partners other than their spouses or some other equally distasteful bit of gossip about their personal life and choices.

The party was composed of five females and one male.

However, the single male in the group was arguably more feminine than any of the five females.

His name was Victor and he was the sort of man that wore silk panties under his tight jeans and liked to pat baby powder on his bottom so it always smelled nice no matter the circumstances. His most recent heart-throb was a young banker from Rio de Janeiro that liked getting massages from older females that worked his prostate with authoritative fingers that never showed mercy no matter how distraught.

The five females were like close sisters with the same preferences in love-making positions, the same taste for expensive coffee from the hills of Colombia and instinctive distaste for male control over their need for sex. They were all in their twenties and at least four of the five had been anally tested repetitively by close friends and distant relatives. The only girl with a virgin brown eye was Maria with the thick bushy eyebrows and a shaved vagina that leaked incessantly with female joy juice despite constant frigging with a pencil or a pen that had that scent of a woman unmistakable in its pungent odor.

The other four girls were constantly crossing and uncrossing their legs like a row of Dallas cheerleaders trying to stir up an orgasm to take away the sense of frustration at lack of masculine cock to make the trip a bit more interesting. Most of them considered the addition of Victor to the group was a bit of theater that made them seem less of a woman and more of an experiment in female equality.

The second group was a party of four that was a father, a mother, a sister and an adopted brother to round out the picture of family bliss. The father had a terrible handlebar moustache that seemed totally inappropriate for his age and puffy appearance. His name was Adam and his wife at his side was so heavy that she almost needed a second seat to hold her widely spread buttocks.

Senior air hostess Mercedes tried without success to put her into a seat belt but gave up after several tries and simply pushed her wide ass into the pillow that stretched across the entire back row.

The two children were both eighteen and had recently consummated a physical relationship that spanned all of young Tammy’s eager sexual entryways. Her same-age adopted brother Mark never bothered to use condoms with his oversexed sister because she had told him repeatedly that she had the “next-day” pills to take care of any unwelcome family problems. She like the fact that he would often cover her with his teenaged spunk and she didn’t really mind the taste of it if it accidently found its way in between her lips.

The last party was a honeymooning couple that had done it so often the last couple of days that they were worn out and sick to death of penises and pussies. It was beginning to look like their marriage would be shorter than usual because the female called Alice was prone to hitting on unattached females rather than married men and she had practiced her run-munching tricks on any available hostess and even a number of female passengers with no sure solution to the question of unprotected sex. She didn’t think it needed with her female partners because there was no chance of having a child. Still, the specter of some unwanted urinary tract infection kept her from taking a more passive path to safety.

Her new spouse was a clarinet player called George that swore he just needed a half day of rest and he would be right back up for it and she would forget all about those super-model types with their tight little bums and their pert little breasts. In fact, George was getting all worked up thinking about the celebrity magazine writers and their need to get masculine relief.

Alice rubbed her sheer panties and felt the wetness buried inside.

It was too late to pester George for some honey, leading poor Alice to take up a position down on all fours in front of the party of six hoping that one of the girls would help her out without much comment.

Surprisingly, it was junior ASS hostess Happy Piper that lifted her short skirt and pulled down her skimpy “smiley face” panties to test the tightness of her twat with the airline issued strap-on for in-flight celebrations. It was not what she had envisioned but it was a solution of sorts and she took that weight on her spine with no objection whatsoever.

The source of this story is Storiesonline

To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account (Why register?)

Get No-Registration Temporary Access*

* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.

Close
 

WARNING! ADULT CONTENT...

Storiesonline is for adult entertainment only. By accessing this site you declare that you are of legal age and that you agree with our Terms of Service and Privacy Policy.