High above the Chartreuse massif, the tiny plane hums. Sweat beads on my skin. Mme Besson’s bare tits sway as she grips the stick, red nails flashing. Her skirt’s hiked up, hairy bush exposed, thighs spread wide over the controls. My fingers tease her swollen clit. She’s dripping. Seat’s soaked. Her pussy lips dark, puffy, framed by that thick black bush I crave.
Heat builds fast in the cockpit. Glass canopy traps it. I pinch her nipple hard. She gasps, plane dips. ‘Focus, slut,’ I whisper. No, she loves it. Her hand trembles on the yoke. I slide two fingers into her slick hole. Hot, velvety walls grip me. Juices squelch loud over engine drone. She moans, hips buck. Trajectory wobbles—left, right. Altitude drops 50 feet. Heart races. Forbidden thrill spikes my cock hard against shorts.
Taking Control in the Skies
I decide: push her over. Thumb circles her fat clit, like a mini-cock, throbbing red. Fingers curl inside, hit her G-spot. She whimpers, ‘Monsieur Clément… oh fuck!’ Plane banks sharp. Mountains rush closer. Her bush scratches my palm. Musky scent fills cabin—pussy sweat, arousal tang. I pump faster. She abandons flying, thighs quake. Free hand claws my arm. ‘Don’t stop! Gonna cum!’ Cock strains, pre-cum leaks.
No holding back. I devour her reactions. Body tenses like bowstring. Pussy clenches my fingers vise-tight. Flood hits—hot squirt sprays my wrist, soaks my thigh. She screams, muffled by wind roar. Long, guttural. Body convulses. Plane spirals wild. I yank stick from her limp grip. Level out hard. She slumps, panting, tits heaving. Bush glistens wet. Aftershocks ripple her ass. I taste her nectar off fingers—salty, divine.
Afterglow and Landing Secrets
Grab controls fully. Stabilize at 4000 feet. She giggles nervously, face flushed. ‘Nearly crashed us for pussy.’ Pets my bulge. ‘Your turn soon.’ I grin, cock throbbing. Fly steady toward home field. She strokes me through shorts, balls ache. No time for more—tower calls. Line up, flare, wheels kiss tarmac smooth. Taxi in silence, her hand lingers on my thigh.
Park, canopy pops. Cool air rushes. She pulls top on, skirt down—bush peeks last tease. No panties still. Climb out awkward, legs jelly. Ground crew distant, clueless. She whispers, ‘Best flight ever. When next?’ Hug quick, feel her hard nips. ‘Soon, doc. Your bush owns me.’ Drive off separate. Normal life snaps back—me to home, her to whatever. Secret burns hot. Society’d freak. But we shared that peak. Craved the risk. Her squirt on my skin reminder. Can’t wait for episode four.