Paper Airplane
by Egregious
Copyright© 2025 by Egregious
Romance Sex Story: Still mourning the loss of his wife and the collapse of their shared dreams for the future, Jerry reluctantly attends a school reunion. There, a chance encounter with an old flame from his school days sparks a new beginning, one he never expected.
Caution: This Romance Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Heterosexual Fiction .
A reacquaintance renews lost love.
Editor: Clarissa, my developmental editor. Many thanks for her invaluable assistance with grammar, style, and plot development. All other mistakes are mine.
Prologue:
Head teacher Elizabeth (Lizzie) Wilson, known for her organizational skills and tendency to be a busybody, decided to host a 2012 class reunion for the Victorville, CA, middle school class of 1990, in honor of their beloved teacher, Mrs. Cecilia Shaw, on the eve of her ninetieth birthday. Invitations were sent to as many fellow students as Lizzie could find an address for three months before the celebration.
Jerry White was one of the recipients. Now, twenty-two years after middle school, he fondly recalled those three years and decided it would be great to reconnect with his old school friends and happier times. With a sense of nostalgia, Jerry made an accommodation booking at a local motel for Saturday and Sunday nights, and he gladly returned his RSVP with the suggested donation.
Jerry:
The reunion was held in the school’s auditorium. I arrived on time and found Lizzie sitting at a table covered with name tags and a laptop—trust Lizzie to be organized. She was just an older version of her younger self. Still a thin-faced woman with dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail tied with a bright pink ribbon. The glasses have evolved from bulky black frames to a more modern, thin-framed gold version.
“Hi, Lizzie,” I said. “Remember me?”
“Of course! How could I forget the famous paper airplane maker!” she replied. Then she asked, “No spouse, Jerry?”
I shrugged. “No, not at the moment.”
“Interesting.” She paused, scanning the assortment of name tags before selecting one and handing it to me. “I laminated each tag with the student’s class photo, so everyone knows who everyone was.”
Then, she dismissed me with a wave toward the entrance of the hall while she proceeded to tap away at her laptop. Typical Lizzie, I thought.
I wandered into the hall, accompanied by the background music of the era, with red, green, and blue mood lights illuminating the space. Here, I discover groups of my old buddies chatting, all of whom I hadn’t seen since grade school, catching up on the many years that had slipped away.
Some were of a familiar appearance; others had changed significantly, mostly thinning hair or expanding waistlines. I joined in, shaking hands with friendly pats on the back; I was introduced to their wives, though some I also remembered from school.
Small tables and chairs were spread around the hall, leaving a dancing area in front of the stage where the band was setting up. Hanging in the center was a large, glittering mirror ball.
I decided to skip the large punch bowl of orangish liquid. I wanted to stay clear-headed and lined up to get a soda from the bartender. He pulled a glass bottle from an ice-filled cooler, removed the top, and handed it to me. I nodded my thanks and moved on. To the side was a table covered with bowls of assorted crackers, cheeses, various dips, and a large bowl of chips.
I noticed an older lady in a wheelchair being pushed to the front of the stage by someone I immediately recognized as Penny Williams, now a mature woman. The band had finished tuning their equipment, and Lizzie grabbed the microphone, tapping the top to get everyone’s attention.
“Before the band starts playing, I would like you all to pick up a glass of sparkling wine from that table over there.” She pointed in its general direction.
After a pause for us all to grab a plastic glass, Lizzie continued, “I would like to make a toast to the best middle school teacher, celebrating her ninetieth birthday tomorrow. To Mrs. Shaw.” She help up her glass for us to follow. Lizzie was always short and to the point.
I joined by raising my glass to the general chorus of “To Mrs. Shaw.”
We all walked over one by one, saying what a great teacher she was and congratulating her on her forthcoming birthday, wishing her many more. All appear to hope for some notoriety by her remembering our names. Which, in most cases, she didn’t.
With that out of the way, the band resumed playing hits from the top charting songs of that era. Several partners got up to twist and generally jiggle their bodies about to their old favorite songs. Then, a few minutes later, they were sitting back down, puffing and panting. I looked around for Penny, but she seemed to have magically disappeared.
After an hour, the night was beginning to wear thin on me. I had done all the catching up I needed, and still no Penny. I decided to slip out in another half hour. I moved to a side table away from the general crowd and the noise of the band.
I was looking at my cell phone for next week’s work roster when a shadow fell over me. Looking up, I found myself staring at the smiling face of Penny Williams. I had forgotten how beautiful she was, and the years had only enhanced her beauty.
Her blond hair was shorter now, down only to her neckline, and her cornflower eyes sparkled. We both attended the final year of middle school with Mrs. Shaw and shared a platonic boyfriend-girlfriend relationship. It ended when my father, Bill, who had an Air Force job, required us to move sixty miles away just before I entered high school.
I returned her smile, stood, and we hugged briefly. Holding her at arm’s length, I said, “I must say, Penny, you have turned into the most beautiful woman I have seen in a long time.”
“That’s most kind of you, Jerry, but I’ll bet you say that to all the women you meet?”
Indicating the seat beside me, I sat back down. “So Penny, what have you been up to over the years?”
“I became a grade school teacher and owe my choice of career to Mrs. Shaw. I’m passionate about nurturing young minds like she was,” replied Penny, sounding like a commercial for teacher recruitment. “I have two daughters, Eliza, now seven, and Isadora, ‘Issy’, five. Have you any children?”
Pausing a moment, I replied mournfully. “No, I missed my chance...”
Thankfully, Penny chose to ignore the obvious question, perhaps picking up on my somber tone, and said, “I remember you were known for your paper airplanes. They soared from one end of the classroom to the other, astonishing our classmates and frustrating the other boys to produce similar results.”
“Yes, those were the days, young and free, daring to do anything without any serious responsibilities. My father often said, ‘These are the best years of your life, son.’ At the time, I didn’t understand how right he was!”
Penny glanced at her watch and said, “I must be off to relieve the babysitter. It has been good catching up. I wish you well, Jerry.”
Standing, I replied, “You too, Penny.” Slightly disappointed at her brusque departure, I wondered if she had a partner to go home to. I kicked myself for not asking sooner.
After a hug goodbye, Penny turned to the hall exit, then headed toward her car. But suddenly, six feet away, she stopped, quickly turning—catching me in the act of admiring her from behind with a lustful gaze.
She paused, a slight smirk playing on her lips, before asking, “Jerry, are you free tomorrow? We usually have Sunday roast.”
Without hesitation, I said, “Yes, I haven’t had a roast since I left home for college. I accept your kind invitation. Thank you, Penny.”
She recited an address I knew well, her blue eyes lingering on mine, and said, “Be there by twelve.”
After picking up a bunch of flowers and a bottle of red wine, I turned up at her family home. I was met at the door by two miniature versions of the young Penny I remembered. Seeing the flowers and wine, the youngest said, “Have anything for us?”
“Issy, it’s impolite to ask such a question,” Penny called out from the kitchen.
I replied, “It just so happens I do.” Showing them my FurReal Friends purchase went down like a treat.
Around the dining room table, the girls chatted, asking me questions about what I did for a living, where my home was, and if I had a girlfriend.
I managed to answer their questions and asking them some of my own. The roast beef and baked vegetables were delightful, and I praised Penny for a delicious meal. The girls and I helped dry the dishes, and they showed me where to put them.
After lunch, Penny remarked on the sunny afternoon and light breeze, then suggested we walk down to Avalon Park for a bit of exercise to work off our lunch. While there, the girls swung on the swings and requested I push them as high as they could go, with safety. Penny sat and watched in amusement as the girls squealed at the acceleration.
On our walk back, we passed a soda shop, and I offered to buy ice cream cones as dessert. We arrived back at their home after some two hours. The girls brought out their monopoly board and insisted we have a game. On finishing the game, we tallied up, with Eliza owning the most hotels and declaring herself the winner. Penny asked me to stay for an evening meal—the girls seconded the motion. I happily accepted, enjoying my time with the family.
Eliza and Issy retired early, as the next day was a school day. They gave me a wave as they headed to their bedrooms, and Penny tucked them in. Returning, Penny made coffee, and we sat at the kitchen table.
“First of all, Penny, I must apologize for not attending your parents’ funeral. My father got in touch with me as soon as he heard. I was on a flight to England at the time. I did send a condolence card on my return.”
“Yes, thank you, Jerry,” Penny said. “I did get your card, and I was most appreciative. And what of your parents?”
“Well, sadly, my mother lost her battle with breast cancer while I was in college. Dad is still alive and retired to Florida, where he shares a house with his brother.” All this talk of death was getting depressing, I thought.
To lighten things up, I said, “I heard you moved away after high school and married.”
“I did my three years at University of California, Los and obtained my primary school teaching degree. My first teaching position at Crestview Elementary School primarily served students from Vandenberg Air Force Base. It was there I met Hank at a party. He was an Alabama boy and did his helicopter training at Fort Novosel flight school before being posted to Vandenberg.
“I think it was his southern accent that attracted me. He swept me off my feet with his southern ways, and after eighteen months of courting, he proposed. We married and lived on the base. I kept teaching, and that was where Eliza was born.”
Penny stopped to catch her breath, then continued, “A year later, my parents were tragically killed in the car accident; I inherited the family home, and I wanted to return to Victorville. Hank applied for a transfer to Edwards Air Force Base and got it. So this is where Issy was born. Two years later, Hanks’s helicopter crashed due to mechanical issues on a simple search and rescue mission, and he and his crew were killed.”
Her words caught in her throat for just a moment before she swallowed and continued with her story.
“When Eliza started school and Issy preschool, I applied for a part-time teaching position at my old primary school and, to my surprise, got a full-time job,” Penny finished.
I replied, “I’m very sorry for your loss, Penny. I realize it was some time ago, but I know from experience it still hurts.” I looked at Penny to see if she wanted any form of comfort, but she didn’t seem to. Perhaps having two children helped see her through the grief?
Endeavoring to keep her emotions under control, Penny asked, “Did you accomplish your dream of flying?”
“Yes,” I said. “As you know, at the end of middle school, my father, a sergeant in charge of the ground crew, was posted to Edwards Air Force Base. Here, I finished high school. And by the age of eighteen, like my Dad, I had obtained my private pilot license. However, I didn’t want to join the military and would rather work for a commercial airline. I then began my studies for a Bachelor of Aviation degree at California Aeronautical University.
“After obtaining my degree and with my current level of flying hours, I easily found a job with a commercial airline operation out of Los Angeles. Initially, I was the first officer and worked alongside the captain, a man fifteen years my senior who taught me the ropes.
“I did earn my commercial pilot’s license and have flown all over the world. However, after an aviation accident three years ago, I changed employers. Now, I fly small propeller and turbo-prop planes across the US and beyond, delivering them to customers or returning them for upgrades and factory recalls.”
Penny tilted her head. “Have you got a female partner?” she asked, eyes alight with curiosity.
“No, I’m single. I have dated, but I’ve not been looking since the accident,” I replied.
“What accident?”
I didn’t want to get into that long, hurtful story tonight, so I said, “Just an accident that required a change of direction.”
Without any further explanation from me, Penny changed the topic. “So that brings us up to date. What brought you to the reunion?”
“I was hoping you would be there,” I admitted. “I wanted to see you again and reminisce about those wonderful three years of middle school we had together. And a little birdie told me you had moved back home, and I wondered why.”
“Well, yes, now you know the reason for that. I must say it’s good to see you again; you look well. You obviously look after yourself.”
“I could say the same for you, and you have two adorable daughters. They do you proud,” I replied.
Finishing their coffees. I realized time had slipped away and was now approaching eleven o’clock. At the front door, I said, “We must keep in touch.” We exchanged cell numbers. I promised to reach out.
Penny followed me to the taxi, and as I opened the car door, she stepped in, lightly kissed my cheek, and said, “That’s so you don’t forget to call.”
I was tingling on the drive to the motel thinking of all the possibilities to come. All my dreams that night were of Penny.
The following day, on my way back to home base, I began reminiscing about my early grade school years with my best friend, Penny.
We rode the same bus to school every week and spent many happy summer months together, cycling, camping, fishing, or swimming in the nearby creek.
For my birthday, I was given a wind-up airplane with a balsa wood central strut, foam wings and tail, plastic wheels on long spring wires, and a strong plastic propeller driven by a thick square rubber band. The rubber band had enough energy to allow the plane to take off from the ground, or it could be used to thrust the aircraft into the air, enabling it to travel much greater distances. Penny and I spent many happy hours making more gliders, getting progressively larger.
During the last quarter of my final year of middle year, while searching the school library for a reference book for an assignment. I came across a book titled Learning to Rock Climb. After reading the book from beginning to end, I was hooked. However, I needed equipment to make rock climbing safe, and for that, I needed money.
Using Dad’s car washing kit, I spent the first two weeks of summer vacation washing cars around our neighborhood, saving the money earned. Penny helped when she could, and we had many water fights, often going home soaking wet.
In the meantime, using the phonebook, I found an outdoor shop selling mountain climbing equipment. I telephoned the store, and they sent a catalog. Using their mail-order form, I ordered a Robertson harness, thirty pitons, and three carabiners. From the local hardware store, I purchased a flashlight, rope, a cheap hammer, and leather garden gloves. All stored in my backpack. I used my sneakers as climbing shoes and my bicycle helmet for head protection. Now, I was ready to climb.
To the east of town was Deadman Hills, ten miles away, and on their north side were several cliffs of varying heights. Fitted out with my climbing equipment, I planned to scale the smaller one, which I estimated to be around a hundred feet high, to gain experience. Penny was my base camp attendant, and there in case I fell. I was halfway up when I discovered a small opening in the cliff. I called down to Penny what I had found and decided to enter the crevice. She hollered back, “Please be careful, Jerry.”
Removing my flashlight from my backpack, I entered the crevice. After eight or so feet of crawling, the space opened into a large cave, allowing me to stand. In the middle, I noticed a round collection of blacked rocks, obviously a fireplace, with plenty of ash and some small bones. There were several large rocks, all worn smooth, I guessed by being sat upon. Could this be where generations of Native Americans camped on their travels?
There didn’t appear to be any other exits, so I wondered how they reached the cave. I immediately returned to the entrance, poking my head out to see a worried Penny pacing back and forth. I called out, “Hey, Penny, you need to see what I found!”
It was here that I noticed a ledge, half a foot in width, leading off to the right. Using my last half dozen pitons, I made my way along the ledge, hammering them in as I went, until after thirty or so feet, I reached the end of the ledge. From there I was able to climb onto the shoulder of the cliff face and into a boulder-filled gully, and then work my way back down to Penny with ease.
Gathering our meager equipment, I led Penny back to the ledge, and using the pitons as anchor points, we made our way into the cave.
We kept the cave our secret. A few days later, I lit a fire, and we toasted marshmallows. That’s when we discovered a small fissure in the back of the cave, which allowed smoke to escape. We spent many happy school holidays in our cave, reading books, playing word games and the like, and generally relaxing, especially during those hot, dry summer months. I built paper airplanes and launched them out of the cave entrance.
With the decommissioning of the nearby George’s Air Force Base beginning in 1988, Dad was to be transferred. Upon my departure, we vowed to stay in touch, but over time, our letters grew more infrequent, and we drifted further apart.
A sudden question came into mind: “Did Penny show our cave to Hank?”
I called Penny in the evening, three days later, and asked her out for a date on Saturday. She responded favorably and then informed me that Mrs. Shaw had passed away on Monday. Penny attended the funeral on Wednesday, where Mrs. Shaw’s seventy-year-old son, Bobby, delivered the eulogy.
Penny read the short, heartfelt eulogy aloud over the telephone.
“On the morning of St. Valentine’s Day, my mother, Cecilia, ‘Sissy’, Shaw, peacefully passed away in her sleep. The day marked her and her husband, Jimmy’s, seventieth wedding anniversary—a love story that had endured even the deepest of separations. Jimmy, a pilot, had been declared MIA in the Pacific War in 1944, leaving behind only one child—me. After decades apart, Cecilia and Jimmy are finally reunited once more.”
I replied, “I always thought of Mrs. Shaw as someone who was married and had a husband at home like everyone else. I just assumed she did. But living all those years alone is just sad.”
Penny and I had our first date that next weekend at a nice restaurant, where we enjoyed a simple dinner and chatted about our work lives. She also shared stories about her children and their mischievous adventures. With the evening still young, we headed to a nearby jazz nightclub with a small dance floor, where we danced, held each other close, and soaked in the music. The night ended with me dropping Penny off and us sharing a passionate goodnight kiss.
Wanting to include Penny’s daughters, Eliza and Issy, in our next outing, I suggested a day at Raging Waters, a perfect way to kick off the summer. We all enjoyed the park’s many water slides, catering to both thrill-seekers and those who preferred a more relaxed pace. Instead of purchasing lunch, Penny surprised us by pulling sandwiches, bottled waters, and a thermos of coffee from her beach bag, making the moment feel even more special.
It was a fulfilling day, and the girls peacefully drifted off to sleep on the drive home. After a light supper, with Eliza and Issy tucked into bed, I wished them goodnight. At the front doorstep, Penny embraced me, and we shared a lingering kiss before I headed home. A cool shower later, I finally retired to bed, exhausted but content.
Our dating continued for the next three months, my work permitting—sometimes with the girls, and other times with just Penny and me, sharing quiet moments, renewing our friendship, and building our love for each other.
Penny never asked me about the “accident” I had alluded to previously, possibly assuming I would tell her in time. Now, we had reached a point in our relationship where I felt comfortable in telling my marriage story. We had finished our night out early. The babysitter wasn’t expecting us until nine that evening. With an hour to spare, I suggested to Penny that we drive over to Mojave Narrows Regional Park and view the river.
Once parked, I turned to Penny and said, “I have not told you of my marriage and what became of my wife, and it’s time I did.”
Corralling my thoughts, I set forth and began to tell my tale.
“After a four years into my career as a commercial pilot, I became the captain of a seven forty-seven. During a flight headed for London, a female attendant caught my eye, as many had before. But this young woman reminded me of someone I couldn’t quite place. Her name was Tabitha, or Tabby for short, and I was immediately attracted to her. We lightly flirted during our coffee break on the flight, and I had the feeling the attraction was mutual.
“Arriving at Heathrow. That evening I took Greek restaurant within walking distance from the hotel. I told her how and why I became a pilot.
“Tabby said she was the only child from an Ohio farming family and trained to become a nurse, getting my degree. But found the pressure and sadness that came with the job too much. On the advice of my cousin, I retrained to become an air flight attendant so that I could see the world. She told me her nurse’s training helped get her the job, and it had come in handy during her short career.
“So began an eighteen-month courtship culminating in our marriage in Ohio. Tabby had already moved into my larger apartment. We immediately began saving a substantial deposit for a family home and to start our family.
“After marriage, Tabby decided she didn’t want to endure those long international flights and transferred to the domestic division, flying between capital cities. I retained my current position because the compensation was excellent, and our flight crew was our in-the-air family.
“Nearly two years into our marriage, I was on a return flight from Paris to LA. We arrived on time at three p.m. As the flight crew entered the lounge, we were met by a somber company CEO, Mrs. Hazel Watkins. Usually a busy area, it was otherwise deserted, which raised our suspicions.
“She begged us to be seated. Looking at me directly, she said, ‘Jerry, I have some terrible news—Tabitha’s New York flight experienced engine issues. The pilot managed to land safely on a small runway in Kansas. The crew got everyone to the evacuation slides.
“The pilot, Bob, and Tabitha were doing a final check of the cabin when the fuel in the right wing exploded. However, for whatever reason, instead of blowing out into the atmosphere, it blew into the cabin area, and Bob and Tabitha were incinerated instantly.
“After pausing to allow us to grasp the situation, she said, ‘I and the company are very sorry for your loss, Jerry.’
“I sat there stunned, closing my eyes. I couldn’t help but picture Tabby running down the cabin with a wall of flames engulfing her, her hair catching alight, and her face boiling as the flames consumed her, all the while screaming.
“I felt a wave of nausea wash over me and then threw up onto the carpet in front of me, getting gasps from all around.
“I immediately apologized, explaining the horror my mind had conjured up.
“Hazel quickly responded, ‘No, no, Jerry. I have it on good authority that, during the initial explosion, they would have been thrown against the cabin wall and most likely killed on impact. Neither would have suffered the following firestorm.’
“No ... That didn’t help. Tabby was gone, and with her, everything we’d hoped for. I felt two people sit beside me, their arms around my shoulders. I didn’t say anything—I just broke down. The tears came hard and fast, big, racking sobs. I cried for what I’d lost, for what might’ve been. For Tabby. For myself. For the future we’d imagined. Though I wasn’t alone, I felt completely apart from the world.
A week later found me in Tabitha’s hometown to attend her funeral. After that, I flew to Florida and spent two weeks with my Dad, trying to recover.
“My work life carried on somehow, but I became restless. I still did my job to the best of my abilities, but it wasn’t enough anymore. I needed a change, and six months later, I resign and seek other employment in the aviation industry. I decided to undertake a ten-day course in Aviation Accident Investigation at the University of Southern California and see where that might take me.’
“Upon completing my studies, I earned a certificate in Aviation Safety and Security. A month later, to earn some income, I accepted a position with a small but profitable airplane manufacturer in west Los Angeles, from where I delivered planes to consumers across the United States.
“Happy with the versatility of my new job, I decided to stay. Over the next two years, I settled into my role. With a stable income, I purchased an apartment in South Los Angeles, located near my workplace. A short while later, I acquired a second-hand, single-engine Beechcraft Bonanza with low airtime for personal use.
“Life carried on—I became a fan of jazz music and swing dancing, even taking lessons, which soon led to more dating. I happily went to work each day and spent far too much time flying, both for leisure and work. I joined a rock-climbing club and often flew our small group to diverse climbing locations.
“And now, my life has taken another turn—from a confirmed bachelor to a man rediscovering lost love simply by reacquainting with you, Penny.”
Penny pulled me into her arms as best she could, given the bucket seats, and hugged me. I didn’t realize it until then—tears were rolling down my cheeks.
By this time, our romance had gotten to the stage of some heavy petting in Penny’s lounge when the children were in bed. But Penny was adamant that we would not sleep in her bed until we were engaged.
I said, “But Penny, I love you. I wish to take our relationship to the next step.”
“I know, and I love you too, but ... I have a certain status in the town; everyone knows we are dating, and I don’t need extra gossip. And besides, I don’t wish to set a bad example for the girls.” Penny smiled shyly as she added, “However, you could always fly me to your place for a weekend of delight.”
“What about the girls? Who will look after them?” I asked.
“Lizzie would be only too happy to take Eliza and Issy for a weekend,” she replied quickly. “They get along well with her daughter. I’ll set it up for next weekend.”
“Deal,” I said.
We hugged and kissed, and then I left for the evening. I was happy about the outcome and looking forward to next weekend. But at the same time, I could see her point. As I flew myself home, the beginnings of a plan formed in my mind to resolve the issue once and for all.
The following Saturday, I arrived for lunch with Penny and the girls. They commandeered the kitchen table and regaled me with stories of their week, including classes and social events. They told me how they were looking forward to a weekend with their friend, whose parents had a swimming pool and hot tub. After lunch, they left with their clothing bags, and Penny dropped them off at Lizzie’s.
Forty-five minutes later, Penny and I were walking in through my apartment’s front door, and we immediately started frantically removing our clothes. Both of us had been waiting for this moment for six months, and lust had overpowered us. I had dreamed of this day, holding her naked body in my arms, kissing her lips, and exploring her all over.
Of course, Penny was undressed first and jumped onto the bed, laying back and looking at me, struggling to get my pants over my shoes. While giggling, she said, “Shoes first, silly.”
She then splayed her long, toned legs. Her right hand snaked over her breast, tweaking her nipple as it passed, then down over her slightly rounded belly, over her trimmed bush, and further down. I stopped all motion and watched as she began caressing her clitoris. Her wetness ran down her bottom crevice. A more exotic site I had never seen.
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