Sky-Fuck Frenzy: Dentist Rides Pilot Cock at 3000 Feet

Phone buzzes in my bag—another patient bailing. Fuck ’em. I’m here for Clément’s cock after days of dirty texts post-dental 69. Heart hammers as I park my blue Twingo at the aero-club. Morning heat clings like sweat. Short skirt barely covers ass, no panties—bush peeks if I bend. Bolero strains over braless tits, nipples poke like bullets.

He waves from the tiny plane, short hugging his bulge. His cologne hits—musky, manly, mixed with aviation fuel. Instant wet. ‘Not late?’ I purr, legs shaky. We chat itinerary. I climb wing, skirt flips, hairy mound flashes. He stares, hungry. Good boy.

The Approach

Straddling the stick, legs split wide. Right thigh fights—stiff from age. He grabs ankle, eyes glued to my lips parting. ‘Should’ve worn panties, but too hot,’ I tease, cheeks flush. Verrière shuts, sauna inside. Taxi to runway. Spread thighs for controls test—pussy gapes, juice slicks thighs.

Airborne. Stomach flips. Tense at first, then landscape blurs below. ‘Hotter up here,’ I whine. ‘Get comfy—no one’s watching.’ Bolero off, heavy tits flop free. Natural, sagging perfect. He offers controls. Grip stick, nails red, focus. But his hand snakes—pinches nipple. Jolt. ‘Clément! Gonna crash!’ Trajectory dips.

Fingers trail down, skirt bunched. Seat soaked. ‘Confused? Tainting seats,’ I gasp. No—love it. He circles clit, engorged like a mini-cock. Bush mats wet. Days of chat buildup explode. Urgent. Now.

The Explosion

He yanks stick. ‘My turn, slut.’ Cock strains shorts. I fumble zipper—thick, veiny, pre-cum beads. Stroke hard. Plane levels. ‘Suck my pilot dick,’ he growls. Lean awkward, mouth engulfs. Salty skin, balls heavy. Slurp loud over engine hum. His fingers plunge pussy—two, then three. Squish-clap echoes. ‘Hairy cunt so wet, Besson. Drip for me.’

Thrust tongue on head, gag deep. He curls fingers, hits G. Waves build. ‘Fuck my dentist hole!’ I mumble, drool strings. Phone vibrates again—ignore. Sweat mixes his scent, pussy musk fills cockpit. Body arches, tits slap dash. ‘Cum on fingers, bitch!’ Orgasm rips—squirt floods hand, thighs quake. Pet farts slip out, silent at first, then ripe bursts. Giggle shakes me.

‘Your turn.’ Yank shorts, jerk furious. He grunts, jets hit my tits. Hot ropes streak. Lick clean. Plane banks gentle.

Cum-glow settles. Wipe up, tits back in bolero. Landscape returns. Land smooth. Taxi in silence. Climb out, skirt drops, bush hides. Shake hands formal. ‘Great flight, M. Clément.’ ‘Pleasure, Mme Besson.’ Eyes say more. Drive off, pussy aches happy. Strangers again. Phone buzzes—work calls. Back to teeth.