The Best Kind of Plummet contestversion

         Everything around me was a vibrating, roaring, shaking cacophony. Which was an apt description, not only of the present situation, but the “situation” to come. Glancing sideways, pretending there subtlety was needed, I stared at the woman next to me. My imagination, operating on it’s own accord, took the sight of her and traveled me back to the night before; a warm, trembling, dizzy night that ended in a preposterous conversation, which ended in an even more preposterous idea. It seemed entirely outlandish at the time, even for us, yet here we were about to fulfill what seemed only creative pillow talk.

         I’ve heard complaints regarding the small quarters of the Cessna A185. Granted it’s not a Boeing 747, but with a woman like Karolyn; who wants space? My right hand agreed and responded by sliding over her slender thigh, covered by a slinky black skirt, in a nonchalant fashion (with very not nonchalant motives). I kept my blue eyes fixed on the stringy brown hair of the pilot’s mullet in front of me, not needing to look to know the warm smirk creeping across her face.
         A mischievous smile of my own appeared as my long fingers slipped under the skirt’s silky fabric to brush the even silkier skin of her inner thigh. I could swear I heard her breathing change as two fingertips, ever so lightly, grazed the soft, trimmed hair between her legs. Still fixated, at least visually, on the pilot to make sure he was satisfactorily unaware of the events; my fingers danced and tickled their way up and down, just barely in, her warm slit.

         Now, I knew, I heard her breathing change as her small, manicured fingers gripped my tattooed forearm. It wasn’t a “stop” kind of grab, obviously, since her grip was pulling, with surprising strength, my arm towards her. I didn’t resist as my fingers slipped into her already damp, warm body. Her grip got tighter; my fingers moved faster, massaging her in places she would only ache in afterwards. This stroking continued, never really giving her much except the occasional feathered brush of two guitar string calloused fingertips across her swollen clit. Her long tan legs were trembling by the time the pilot yelled back, “Hey folks, get ready! About five minutes!”

         Reluctantly I pulled my fingers back and frowned over at her, an apology in my eyes. Her bright green eyes sparkled, declaring no need for apology. Karolyn slid to the door, turned away from me. The co-pilot, unaware of what had gone down, leaned back to help me get the harness onto her. I could see in his eyes, and his nervously shaking hands, that things inside him begged for an accidental graze against Karolyn’s perky breasts.
         Who could blame him? The girls were in top form, hidden from prying eyes only by a slightly too small red blouse. She loved testing the endurance of the average button, and I was often surprised how well they held. With the harness secured around her, and connected to mine, he turned back with an audible sigh. I just chuckled. “Ninety seconds!” declared the voice from the front.

         I wrapped my long arms around her, and my still slick fingers quickly found their way under her skirt again. At the pilot’s prompting, I flung open the door with my other hand and lunged forward. The ruckus in the airplane could not compare to the roar of the air passing our ears. With my free hand I worked my sweat pants down off my hips, my fingers now caressing slowly just around her throbbing sex.
         My free hand held her hip as her legs parted. I pushed up under her skirt with a practiced ease, feeling her wet heat against the tip of my cock. Her flushed cheeks came into view as she arched her head back. Thrusting in slow, deep motions I could barely breathe, as I felt entirely engulfed by her trembling warmth, despite the cold air. My fingers gave full attention to her wet, needy clit with fast, hard circular strokes. Her body began to spasm and tighten around me as my own muscles tensed, the heat building in my abdomen. As I had hoped the timing was perfect and as I reached the end of the countdown, I’d surprisingly managed to maintain, I found the cord.

         Moaning into her ear, with harder thrusts now, I urged her, “Cum, just let go” and pulled the cord during our simultaneous plunge. The chute, opening fast above our heads, filled with air and pulled us hard to a slower descent. It could not, however, do anything about the burning plummet we had taken into climax. Karolyn’s tight body quaked and clenched around my pulsing cock as we drifted lazily through the air. I found her glistening neck with my nearly numb lips, kissing her while unenthusiastically withdrawing my dick.

         In the remaining seconds of our descent, I got my pants back up and braced myself for the landing. As my feet touched the soft sand, we collapsed in a still heaving heap. I laughed in agreement as she gasped out, “Fucking on the ground is for chumps.”


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