Money!
Copyright© 2016 by Dual Writer
Chapter 15
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 15 - This is a flowing story of how money has an unwanted affect on a man until he decides to become a force for his own protection. The story will find its way to be a part of Florida Friends. There is sex in this story. Some times a lot of sex so you've been warned. It is not a sex story.
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Fa/Fa Consensual
I woke to my phone advising me that it was five in the morning. I felt fairly rested and went straight to the back entrance and stretched out. I began running after walking and jogging, and continued to run for close to forty-five minutes. The hotel gym was full of men using all the various weights and machines when I went in, so I skipped that and went to get cleaned up. I was driving to the patio ten minutes later, hoping that I wasn’t too early. I walked in with Chuck #1 who was all smiles this morning. Steve was at his special table with a mug of coffee next to him. Chuck and I poured mugs and sat with him. He reached up and turned the overhead lights on, and we heard the bang of a screen door and then saw a form walk through the grass to get to the side door. Glenda opened the door, saw all of us waiting, and said, “So all my admirers are here to see me this morning?”
We all chuckled after hugging this matriarch of morning coffee. Steve said, “There’s been a lot happening this week, and Tiny thinks we need a party. He’s ordered the big tent and all the extra food. This is going to be an extravaganza. You finish early, Chuck, so that you can help on the patio. It’s probably not necessary, but it would be good if you’re here.”
The first Chuck said, “We’ll figure it out, Chuck. I have a few extra if you want some women and babies.”
Mercy had come out of the house and smacked Chuck on the shoulder. “I’m sure he would never give one of his women away.”
I poured more coffee, and asked, “Will you really have that many people?”
Tiny and the sexy, mature ‘Ruth’ were now here, and Ruth said, “Oh yeah. People love to come to the Friday parties because everyone is in a good mood and we get to hear what successes we’ve had lately.”
It’s amazing to see all the people come for coffee and then there was a little scramble to get a favorite when a bellboy from the hotel arrived with boxes of sandwiches and pastries. Chuck’s women had some with the little guys and carrying babies that weren’t that old yet. Mickey came out holding an infant with Sue Ellen hanging onto her trouser leg. Mickey handed the baby to Steve and told him, “Juanita will come to get the baby in a minute. I think all of Chuck’s are here now, so the nursery will be more peaceful.” I wondered how that could be.
Chuck said to me, “Give me a ride to the airpark. I’m your instructor for two hours, and then I’m headed up to Minnesota for a minor problem. Wanda will meet us out there before I leave. She’s my Office Manager, does all the really hard work, and manages my other two office staff.”
I wanted to begin the day and get started on doing more than takeoffs and landings. We checked out a logbook for a G-36 Beechcraft Bonanza out at the airpark. This was an air coupe and totally different from the Cessna. It felt heavier than the Cessna when we pushed it out of the hangar. I found the preflight card and went over everything outside the aircraft with some help from Chuck. I asked, “I can understand no flight plan when we fly local around the field, but we’re not calculating weight or computing temperature data either.”
Chuck said, “I guess you did read the entire manual. I filed a VFR plan for five thousand to seventy-five hundred feet. We really don’t need one, but it is good practice. As far as weight calculations are concerned, this is a six-place aircraft with only two of us at average weight in it. There shouldn’t be a need. The temperature is cool, so the density altitude isn’t going to be a problem. I know it is glossing over some things, but I want us to fly this bird so you get a variety of aircraft during your training. Technically, since this has a six cylinder engine with fuel injection and has retractable landing gear, unlike the fixed landing gear and carburetor on the Cessna 172 you’ve trained in before, this is considered a ‘complex aircraft’ by the FAA, and you’ll need to be signed off on that as you pursue your training anyway. It’s going to fly faster and climb more quickly than anything you’ve flown up till now. Let’s get in and play with the Garmin.”
I wasn’t lost in the cockpit, as I had found a small pad with a Velcro wrap that fit on my leg so I could write notes. Chuck called it a “kneeboard”. On top of the page was the ATIS and the local tower frequencies. The checklist wasn’t as detailed as the Cessna this time and just had a line that said ‘circuit breakers all in’ where the Cessna list said to ‘make sure all circuit breakers were pushed in’. I was able to do each. The instructions went right to engine start items. I checked my seatbelts and reached over and tugged on Chuck’s. That gave him a laugh, but it was something the flight manual said to do. I dialed ATIS frequency and noted a wind change from yesterday and wrote the barometric pressure down to set the altimeter. The Garmin displayed all the data from the gauges when it came alive, making you feel even more secure.
This was going to be strange, since you had a different visual perspective than from a high wing aircraft. Chuck showed me how to set the Garmin so that it would follow us and keep us aware of airspace around other fields. I requested taxi instructions and learned that I would be going to the other end of the field to take off today, heading north instead of south.
I stopped at the runway edge line and was granted runway access. The tower said something that was different by announcing my takeoff time. We were lifting off at seven fifty-nine. Chuck said over the intercom as we climbed, “The gear up lever is right beside the trim wheel. Lift it and wait until you feel it click and watch the gear lights blink white until up and locked. Go to seven thousand feet and turn to zero one nine. We’ll let the Garmin tell us when we enter Zephyrhills’ airspace.”
The Garmin beeped and a voice said over the intercom, “Entering ZPH northwest”. Chuck said, “We’re just cutting across a small chunk of their airspace. Do an unmonitored field announcement of your position, travel direction, and intention. You are just passing by. We might not do that if we were above ten thousand feet, but the Garmin will tell you that this field has skydiving going on daily, so you should always be vigilant when you fly this direction.”
Chuck had me turn north and we went up until we entered Brooksville’s airspace. Chuck said, “Let’s see if these folks are awake and will let us do a touch and go” when the Garmin announced we were entering BKV airspace. We should be able to do it if the Air National Guard isn’t doing anything. Go to the traffic pattern on the Garmin and request permission for a long final for a training touch and go. I’ll show you how to use the Garmin for glide slope. You’ll learn a lot more during instrument training.”
I was directed to an outer marker and entered the long final with the Garmin squawking my altitude and distance. I was at three thousand feet when a beeper went off, and I automatically reached for the gear lever. I pushed down and kept my hand on the lever until I felt the click, and lights on the dash quit flashing red and turned green. I was lined up on the center line and eased down until I felt the wheels hit the runway. I dropped the nose as gently as I could and didn’t feel a bounce. I had cut power and was rolling out when Chuck said, “Okay, now adjust flaps for takeoff, give it full power, and watch your airspeed indicator.” The aircraft was airborne by the time the needle was passing the green. I raised the gear on the way back to seven thousand feet and noted there wasn’t a carb temp indicator and we wouldn’t know if we may need some heat. Chuck asked, “Did your first instructor teach you that?”
I told Chuck that I had read about that in the Cessna flight manual and figured it was probably the same for all conventional engine aircraft. Chuck said, “This engine is fuel injected and is controlled by an internal computer.” He was smiling as he added, “None of this makes you nervous, does it?”
“No Sir, I’ve prepared myself as best as possible and have done everything as exact as I can so that flying would be easy. It’s exciting and I want to do a lot more, but I know I have a lot to learn. Now I’ll have to read the flight manual for this aircraft. I’ll bet it is bigger and more complicated than the Cessna.”
Chuck said, “Fly us home and land this thing. I should have the examiner come to test you now. You’re more advanced than most of the people in instrument training. Have fun flying. Just a tip, though, about carburetor heat: Heating the intake air, whether for a carburetor or fuel injection like on this airplane, thins the air a little, so you may need to adjust the fuel mixture to accommodate that.” Chuck sort of relaxed in his seat and said, “I want to extend an offer for you to take a U.S. Deputy Marshal entrance exam. I think you would be a good one. The pay is good, hours are terrible, but the benefits are great. I know you’re retired military, and Wanda has run you through the Secret Service. You went through the wringer over that money. They’ll be trying to sort all that out for years. There is still over half missing; all that grief and you didn’t get any. Anyway, consider the opportunity.”
I told Chuck, “I’m going to finish learning to fly a lot of aircraft, and then I’ll look at what I’ll do or where I go. I have a nice home in Miami and my roots are down there. I’m very close to my sister, and I sort of have a girlfriend, both of whom may come up to visit me. It will give me a chance to evaluate the girlfriend better at the same time.”
I was lining up for final and requesting permission to land while we were talking. There would be no traffic by the time we made it to the runway, so I was using the Garmin and glide slope to put the plane on the ground. Gear down, lower power, adjust flaps, and settle on the centerline, simple stuff. Chuck said, “You’ve landed this thing twice as gently as anyone. You do have a touch. Take us up to the hangar. Your next instructor may not want to use this aircraft.”
I did all the post flight stuff and went to the driver of a fuel truck who was fueling a small air coupe I didn’t recognize. I asked if he could bring the truck over to the Bonanza and he nodded. I used that opportunity to use the bathroom, wash my hands, and get a cup of coffee. Chuck was standing at the counter with my logbook and holding another one. Next to him was a beautiful, tall woman with what looked like long breasts. There were some lookers out here.
Chuck introduced me to Wanda, his Office Manager. He said he had to get going and the two went out to one of those beautiful small jets, but not as big as a Gulfstream. This one was painted with cartoons and various slogans, and it said ‘Deputy Dawg’ with a caricature of Chuck up under the cockpit window. A voice from behind me said, “Beautiful, isn’t it. I love to fly that thing, but I’ve been busy with my kids lately.”
“Are you the lady with the quads?”
“That’s me. I’m Lisa Johnson, one of Chuck’s wives, lovers, or harem women; however you want to label us. I’m also a flight instructor and will give you your next two hours. Chuck checked you out in the Bonanza, so let’s use that and see how far we can go for an hour in one direction. She grabbed both books, and then stopped, “Come back to the pilot’s PC, file a VFR flight plan to the east coast, and we’ll go from Vero Beach north, around Cape Canaveral airspace, probably around Jacksonville, and then home. We’ll find a field for one additional landing for experience, and my two hours will be done. I’ll need to get back to my babies. This is a welcome break, and I’m told that you really have read all the manuals.”
We repeated the preflight and the cockpit stuff with her watching. I had the engine started and field condition information, and kept tapping on one gauge that wasn’t coming up. Lisa looked at it, gave me the slash across the throat gesture, and frowned. “I guess we’ll have to get another aircraft. I’ll have the mechanics look at it. Brandy will want to use it this afternoon. Take this logbook and get another. Tell the girl we’ll take anything, and have her contact maintenance.”
I took the logbook and went back out to the Beechcraft. I finished doing the engine shutdown checklist to make sure I was leaving the aircraft correctly. Lisa had taken the logbook from me and had gone inside the hangar to find the aircraft we were to use. It was a Cessna 152 that you could see had years of experience teaching students to fly. We pushed it out and I found the preflight card and quickly did all the checks, including the engine Hobbs meter that I checked against the logbook. The surprise was there was no yoke, only a stick. Okay, I thought, this would be a learning experience. Lisa easily got in and buckled up, but I noted the belts weren’t tight. I would ask her. This aircraft had all the basic things, but that was all. I did the ‘clear’ and started the engine, feeling the lesser power than the 172 or Beechcraft had. CS&S had good headsets that made it nice to call for taxi clearance. I thought the brakes were a little funky, but useable for steering. It was then that I looked for a stationary brake release the 172 manual talked about, and said it wasn’t on all models. It was on the left firewall so I released it and tested the brakes again and they were fine. Lisa asked me what I did and I told her how I had read about some Cessna 172s and other models had a stationary brake for temporary stops instead of tie downs. It was something I had read.
We easily went through takeoff and I found the stick to be easy to use as we headed east southeast toward Vero Beach. Lisa said, “We’re both going to be screwed out of time today because I have to get home and you need a half hour for lunch before Brandy shows up. I’ll see if I can get another shot at you, probably for hood time during instrument training. We’re going to be going slower, so we’ll be south of Jacksonville. There’s a neat grass field to land on that should be dry enough because we haven’t had any rain for a week. You need some grass runway experience. You’ll get some dirt and gravel experience too. I think you’re having fun with the basic flight training. That’s a good thing. A lot of people are uptight all the time. You’re going to have a ball if you decide to learn helicopters. Those things become an addiction, but can be and are lifesavers.”
The landing and takeoff on the grass field felt strange as the grass was a little long and wanted to hold us back on takeoff. I got off in plenty of distance, but it did teach me that taller grass could hold me back even more. We shut the 152 down almost exactly at twelve oh five. A fuel truck was fueling some other training aircraft and the guy said he would take care of this one. The girl behind the desk asked, “Do you want to pay for your schooling the way you said now?” when we turned the aircraft logbook in.
“Sure, use this debit card, and we’ll do it again when it is time for commercial and instrument school.”
Lisa said, “Go to the operations building. There’s food there. Be back for Brandy. She’s going to give you three hours, and that’s all for today unless you want to get some of your solo time. I think we have instructors for Saturday and Saturday night, so you’ll be racking up the hours. I’m sure you’re signed off to solo so rent one of the trainers this afternoon and Sunday and go flying. You need to get solo hours in. You’ll be a short timer and take your exam at thirty-five hours. You should be able to do that by next Wednesday. We’ll let someone give you one on one ground school session, and have you study on your own. You’ll need to be renting an aircraft and getting as many hours as possible when you’re not being taught. You’ll be busy, but it’s fun. Go eat.”
The little restaurant had hot meals, but I thought a quick sandwich with a bottle of iced tea would be best. I walked back across the field and found the Bonanza in front of the small aircraft hangar with a note on the yoke. It said a faulty sending unit was replaced. I went into the pilots’ room and finished my sandwich, used the restroom, and went back to the desk area where Betty was a familiar face. There was a woman with Betty with a little star on the side of her eyebrow. Amazing, but not unexpected, that her name tag said ‘Star’. Another woman came in and asked, “I’m looking for Chuck Miller.” She looked around and saw me and said, “There you are.”
I smiled and she stuck her hand out. “I’m Brandy, and I have you for three hours today. I see my aircraft has been fixed, so let’s get going. I want to file VFR for Miami Executive Airport, refuel there, and then fly back. That will be three hours or thereabouts. My little one will be okay while I’m gone, but won’t like it if I’m not back soon after that. All Chuck’s kids are about the same age, so we all have babies not quite one, and most of us have kids that are just over three. They are all active and probably too smart because the grandmas are teaching them to speak correctly and are already teaching them to read. The kids have the same gift as Mercy and Missy, and use it somehow.”
I was finishing the preflight the whole time Brandy was gabbing, and was in the cockpit after helping her get in the right side. I rapidly went through the checklist and started the aircraft. I checked the ATIS noting that the barometric pressure was dropping. I set the altimeter and noted the change on the Garmin. It didn’t take long to be in the air and call in to open the flight plan. We were assigned nine thousand feet and advised of traffic above and below us. I kept an eye out, and only spotted one aircraft going overhead heading north.
Brandy mustn’t have an opportunity to talk much, because she didn’t stop the whole way. She couldn’t get over how smooth I landed in Miami. We headed to the small aircraft refueling station where there was an open place. I refueled the aircraft using the card in the pocket on the door. I told Brandy that I really liked her aircraft, but it didn’t have a great range. She told me that this aircraft had a nine hundred mile range at over two hundred miles an hour. She said that I was looking at an older A-36 specs.
This might be a plane to fly my sister or maybe even Sandra up to Tampa. I asked her if this aircraft was available to rent or just for flight training on the way back. She said, “I have two of these. One’s an older model, but I’ve upgraded the avionics. This one’s the class act. Don’t you just love it?”
We did a landing at Manasota airport and took off again to just about reach altitude to descend again to enter our glide path. I loved having the Garmin keep me on track. I could look out and see where I was, but this was like really knowing where you were.
I refueled the plane myself this time, while the fuel truck driver fueled another student aircraft that was being readied to go up. Brandy filled out my logbook while I filled out the aircraft logbook. She had her own logbook and made an entry there too. She told me, “You may not have to fly Sunday to get your time unless you need more solo time.”
That Friday evening was a blast. There were so many people there you couldn’t believe it. Chuck arrived about six and was instantly required to play some music with Bonita, Lizzy, and Lisa. I was having a great time when a gorgeous girl sat on my lap and asked, “Who are you to not even stare. You ignore Donna and Nikki the same as you do me. Are you gay?”
I surprised her and flipped her to lay her across my lap and gave her five good whacks while she wailed. Donna and Nikki appeared to help her, and asked me why I was spanking her. I said, “She accused me being gay, so I showed her how much I enjoyed her female backside. I didn’t know I was supposed to bow and kiss your hands when I was in your presence.”
The two other girls were laughing, and the one who sat on my lap didn’t get up but had managed to pull her button shirt apart to show me her braless skin almost to a nipple. I asked her, “I don’t even know your name.”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.