Chapter 2

We couldn’t wait to christen our little house attached to the Nome hanger.

Beth read the instructions and put a rubber on my steel hard dick. I knelt between her legs. She spread her slender thighs as wide as they would go. She guided the head of my cock between her pussy lips and into her dripping wet hole. I pushed gently into her, and before I knew it, my cock head was stretching her.

“Shove your dick in me. I need you. I’m going to need you every day. I think maybe more than once a day. Aren’t you glad you married me?” Beth said.

I did what Beth told me. It wasn’t a struggle because all my instincts were telling me to burry my prick in her tight little pussy.

“Oh baby, you are so tight, it feels so good to be inside you,” I said.

It was cool because we seemed to be in tune, and we started fucking right away. We weren’t a bit awkward either.

“I love the way your cock makes me feel all full when you are inside me,” Beth said.

“I hope you’ll like it enough to want to do it with me and practice until we get really good at doing it together,” I said.

“Oh baby, I already want us to practice every chance we get!” Beth said.

It was kind of like a miracle because Beth was able to cum from my frantic thrusting. As soon as she whimpered, “Oh Mike, I’m cumming!” I exploded and filled the condom with what seemed like a cup full of cream.

We cuddled after, and I thought the kissing and petting was just as exciting and a lot sweeter than the sex. We practiced a lot that night, and I was able to last longer and longer so Beth was able to cum three or four or five times before I filled up other condoms. I’m undoubtedly an asshole because I was thinking I liked giving Beth multiple orgasms better than I’d ever liked the idea of making Betty Lou cum like this. Somehow it seemed like Beth did everything to please me, and Betty Lou always seemed pretty selfish.

Beth got on the pill right away. After a month of using condoms, we were able to throw away the rubbers. I was always glad that Beth liked the feel of me squirting inside her. She was never prissy and never complained about the wet spot. Of course, I was kind of proud of getting to make a wet spot with such a beautiful woman, so I slept in the mess as often as Beth let me.

Beth was serious about doing everything I liked as often as I wanted. It was excellent that we both enjoyed the same things. We never disagreed about what to do or how many times to do it. Sometimes I think Beth would have liked it if I’d been able to go again a time or two on some nights when she was wound up extra tight, but she never complained when my cock refused to get hard no matter what she did, and she never said anything about my flesh being weak because she knew my spirit was willing as hell.

It was like heaven on earth to have as much sex as I wanted with no begging, and especially for my wife to be willing and eager any time I wanted her.

Beth got a degree in Accounting and Small Business management. We bought up a few failing bush plane operations and hired the pilots who weren’t drunks or druggies. I found a couple of outstanding mechanics with A&P (Airframe and Powerplant) licenses who could do all the work and inspections required by the FAA, in house. We set them up in half our Fairbanks hanger. We built a maintenance facility next door to the hanger so there was room for maintenance and inspections that didn’t interfere with flight operations as soon as the shop was finished.

When we had scheduled routes to ten cities, Beth decided we were big enough.

I did make a couple of deals on my own that made us the dominate air service in Alaska.

There was a particularly slippery KGB agent who kept getting in and out of the US at will. I found out where he was coming ashore and trailed him until he made the mistake of getting too close to a ridge line with an overhanging cornice. I threw a grenade at the overhang and triggered an avalanche. It put him under a few million tons of snow. Sometimes a bullet isn’t required to do a job, and the absence of physical evidence makes the opponent wonder enough to get jumpy. Hopefully if your outfit has been compromised that uncertainty will make the mole make a mistake.

That job got us enough money to buy all turbine engine planes and sell all the piston engine airplanes, so we only needed to keep jet fuel at our bases. That eliminated the chance of a mistake that could kill people. You see there are two classes of piston airplane engines and they take two different octane ratings for their fuel. The refinery puts red dye in one and blue dye in the other, but people still get mixed up all the time. If the plane has the wrong fuel, it won’t fly correctly. The wrong fuel can lead to fatal problems. Turbine engines just need jet fuel. You need the anti-icing additives, but if the truck says “Jet-A” you will be good.

The Director wanted to get some special cargo delivered to some classified locations. The equipment was too big for our planes, so a brand-new C-130 landed in Nome one day. It taxied up to our hanger and the crew made sure I hadn’t forgotten how to fly a Herkey Bird. Lockheed’s nickname for the C-130 was Hercules. Air Force guys shortened that to Herkey.

The instructors taught my maintenance guys how to put skis on the plane and then taught me how to land on skis. I delivered the gear, and I got to keep the C-130. That meant anyone with a bulky or heavy load they needed flown somewhere in Alaska came to us. It was expensive because the C-130 uses lots of jet fuel, but some outfits don’t care about the cost.

When they started building the Alaska pipeline, no one else could compete. We got rich hauling drilling and pipeline company people and gear to remote places.

All our pilots wore black Nomex flight suits, but Beth had ours made to measure by a tailor, so we all looked sharp. No baggy flight suits for us.

Beth got bored keeping the books, so she got her pilot’s license. She always flew with me on any bird that required a copilot. It was hilarious watching Beth fight that big mother C-130, but Beth never quit and always got the job done.

My wife matured into an elegant and beautiful woman. She stayed skinny as a young girl, but she grew to six feet, two inches tall. Kissing her never put a crick in my neck, because I was six feet, three inches, so we were on the same level.

Beth had the tailor make her flight suit just a little tight across her chest, so her A+ Cup breasts thrust out impressively, when it was warm enough not to be swathed in a parka. Beth’s breasts were perfect as far as I was concerned. They were cones, high on her chest. They didn’t sag a bit. Her nipples were sharp points, and if I sucked them, my wife was going to fuck my brains out within a few minutes.

Seeing Beth stride across the flight line in her black flight suit and climb into one of our birds was an inspiring sight.

I guess over the years of being married to Beth I decided mother nature made the perfect woman and I was lucky enough to be married to her.

Beth was serious as a heart attack about doing everything it is possible for a man and woman to do together. She was also serious about doing everything I liked as often as I wanted. I think she liked sucking my cock almost from the first time. It gave her visible evidence I thought she was sexy and wanted her. Sucking me made sure I was hard enough to penetrate her tight little pussy. Beth never seemed to get stretched out at all. Even after years of having sex every time we got a chance, she was still virgin tight.

Beth would have been glad to have anal sex as much as I wanted. The thing was, I didn’t like it much.

Why didn’t I like butt fucking? Her ass wasn’t any tighter than her little pussy, and it didn’t have that silky, wet feel only a pussy has. Beth’s pelvic muscles make her vagina grip my cock tightly and her pussy muscles ripple all around my dick when she cums. It’s almost like her cunt is trying to suck me off. It’s highly effective at making me squirt, by the way. Sticking my dick up her butt seemed to me like it wasn’t worth the time and trouble for an enema and clean-up.

When we’d been married for ten years Beth asked me, “Hey Mike, do you still want to knock me up?”

I grinned and answered, “Hell yes!”

Beth got checked by an OB/GYN in Seattle, and when she was cleared, stopped taking the pill. It was highly entertaining for us to do the sexy talk that went with trying to get Beth pregnant. We’d never done much role playing, but we jumped on impregnation fantasies with all four of our feet.

It took almost a year for her body to become fertile again after ten years on the birth control pill, but one morning Beth told me I was a bastard for knocking her up and making her heave all the time.

Once Beth got through the first two months and stopped getting sick all the time, we enjoyed her pregnancy induced perpetual horniness. We hired some extra pilots so I could stay home and take care of my horny wife more often.

Beth’s breasts grew to B Cup size. She enjoyed bouncing her tits around with her cupped hands and shoving them in my face. I loved sucking her nipples and I’d keep it up for as long as she wanted me to.

I knew Beth was tough, but I didn’t want to take chances, so I flew her down to Seattle in the Citation. I used the Cessna business jet to ferry large parties up from Seattle to Fairbanks or Nome where we split them up and put them on bush planes.