Stephen Keshner - Cockpit Confessions of an Airline Pilot

Layover time spent with Farnsworth would be fun, but could be hazardous, since Filthy was a heavy drinker/philanderer. Young girls were his specialty, the younger the better, and his “rep” was further polished by the hint of a cocaine habit. I was still a light-weight drinker, and faithful to my wife, Geri.

Lovell was always a lost cause to us on layovers, since he invariably had an advance babe set-up, no matter where we wound up. I’m convinced that Jerry Lovell would have a woman ready in Mombassa, Mumbai or Kabul, were we heading there.

Sure enough, on the flight down, Jerry is tantalizing us with descriptions of his Sidney sweetheart, who he had dated only once before. He’s alerted her to his impending arrival, and now he was salivating with anticipation. Jerry loved to drive me crazy, teasingly refusing to tell me anything about his girls. I just got that Cheshire grin of his, and his patented “life is good!” routine.

After a shower and a nap, I’m down at the bar expecting Filthy to show up, but he’s missing in action. He must have hooked up too. Just as well, at least I’ll be staying out of trouble. To my surprise, Jerry Lovell enters the place. He’s alone, seemingly crushed, the body-language wind is definitely out of his sails.

“What happened to your date?” I ask, half in disbelief, half secretly glad that he’s struck-out.

Jerry orders a Long Island Ice Tea, explaining the components and proportions to the bartender, who’s eager to learn how to make this Yank concoction.

“Keshy, there’s no accounting for the wondrous ways of the female animal,” Jerry begins…

It’s going to be like that, so I switch from beer to double Stoly’s, rocks, with olives. “Okay, I’m ready” I say.

Jerry smiles, it’s going to be good, and he begins: “For months I’ve been joking around with those girls behind the registration desk, here at this hotel. Never thought much of it, just funnin’ around. Three months ago, I’m opening the door to my room, and the phone is already ringing. It’s Rita, calling me from down in the hotel office. “Can I meet her for a drink? Can I be discreet? Nobody in the hotel must know, all that….

“Yeah?” Anticipating the juicy parts.

“It’s jammin’ at the bar she told me to meet her at that night, Aussies wall-to-wall. She’s in a sexy, white-knit dress, sitting at the bar watching for me, and she’s saving a seat for me. She greets me with a wet kiss, we have a drink, she excuses herself to go to the loo. When she climbs back up onto her barstool, her dress hikes up some, beautiful bare thighs. She leans close and whispers ‘put your hand under my dress.’

As I slide my hand up the inside of her thigh, she opens her purse on her lap to show me that she’s removed her panties when she went to the bathroom.”

Jerry slurps an impossible amount of his Long Island Ice Tea up the two straws. I find that I have forgotten to breathe. My dick hasn’t. It’s filling it’s lungs with blood, waiting for the payoff.

“Chubby, as she closed her leather purse, givin’ me that pure evil, Mona Lisa-sitting-on-a-dildo smirk, she opened that velvet, warm, woman-purse thing of hers for my hand. My God, did she know what she was doing to me, it was like liquid gold in there, peaches-and-cream ice cream, put in a microwave for just twenty, thirty seconds.

“She takes my wrist gently, removes my hand from under her skirt, slowly brings my fingers up to her face, slides her lips all the way down those fingers, and sucks off her own juices, never taking her eyes from mine. ‘Buy a bottle of vodka and let’s go,’ she says.”

“Goddam, Jerry!”

“Wait…. You know that the bottle shops and bars are normally separate deals here in Sidney, but this bar includes its own bottle shop, near the entrance.”

Jerry’s ready for another Long Island Ice Tea, and the place is empty except for us, so this time the bartender allows Jerry behind the bar, watching carefully as Lovell professionally brews the otherworldly concoction.

My erection is now a nagging embarrassment, preventing me from leaving my bar seat. I beg another double Stolys, breaking the bartender’s concentration from Lovell’s demonstration. Glancing down at my newly arrived drink, I realize that my first glass is still half-full. I Close my eyes, finishing my first vodka in one long slow pull, then I start working on the olives and ice. Squeezing the pimento and juice into my new glass, I suck the remnants off my fingers and am jolted back to visualizing Rita and Jerry’s fingers, and I feel a pulse surging between my legs.

Jerry settles back in. “I pay for a bottle of Stoly’s, brandishing it in the air above the crowd, and Rita and I grab a taxi to her place. It wasn’t far, but she was holding the bottle in one fist and me in her other the entire trip. I think my dick was harder than the bottle.

“We’re into her bedroom and out of our clothes so fast, I only have time to notice what a real playground it is, room for elbows and knees, a huge bed. Stevie, for hours we are devouring each other everywhere. She has these swollen strawberry nipples, a pretty, trim golden-red little pussy,

with tiny, close-set lips. Her clit was gorgeous, a half-hooded, lightly-oiled oblong pearl, and at the center of her perfect cheeks lived a rose

bud asshole, it pulsed open and closed like an expensive camera lens, and it had a mind of its own. She enjoyed getting on top, with my dick deep in the tight rings of her throat, my tongue probing, working between her cunt, and that perfect, puckering asshole.

More tea, I watch the tan liquid travel up the straws into Jerry’s mouth. My face, I realize, is flushed, I feel dryly feverish, slowly rolling the cold, perspiring outside of my Stoly’s glass along my forehead and lips.

“Stevie, what she loved best of all, was to get on her knees, her face buried in soft, cool pillows, her arched back presenting her butthole to me. She told me to put it in deep and slow, wanting me to withdraw and re-enter each time, all the way in, all the way out. I learned quick, I don’t have to tell you. Watching those fingers of hers dancing on her clit and jamming in and out of her cunt, while my dick, bigger than it’s ever been, is driving slowly all the way in and out of her warm ass was infucking-credible.

“At the height of all this, she’s saying ‘it’s so pink, it’s so pink….,’ and she goes on to describe her girlfriend’s pussy-lips and cunt, how she only just had her first three-way with a girlfriend and some guy. It was her first experience down there, and she loved it. Now her eyes are tight closed, her face screwed up with concentration as she’s fantasizing the coral and pinks of her girlfriend’s sex.”

Jerry is face to face with me now, our drinks forgotten. “Then she starts to spasm, her whole body is orgasming, and she screams ‘Jam it deep, jam it deep…’ It was one of those magical nights for me, my cock never went down. I don’t even remember if I came after that first time in her mouth, but God, it didn’t matter. We stopped long enough to damp towel off, order a pizza, and break open the bottle of vodka. She was fun, to boot, she has this great, quirky sense of humor, and we both knew it was all shits and giggles.”

“So what’s the problem?” I ask, “What happened with her tonight?”

“Wait,” he says, now ordering some tap beers for the two of us. “When the pizza arrives, we only eat a slice each, but we start in again. She’s manging down on my dick after slapping a slice of pizza around it, I’m feeding cheese pie up her tight little hole and chewing her and the pizza out at the same time, it was fun, it was great, and we finished it with another serious session.