Sex in the Sky

When you save someone’s life, they belong to you.

I was staring out at the wide expanse of the Cascade Mountains as I piloted over them. I worked for one of the airlines, based in Seattle. I usually flew small, 70-seat commuter aircraft, but was certified to fly all the way up to a 737. I had spent almost every waking moment from the time I was 12 learning how to fly. I loved the freedom and thrill of soaring through the air.

I’m one of the few people who didn’t have to enter the military to get a commercial pilot’s license. But, with the horrid slump that the airline industry was currently in, we had all agreed to trim back our hours by just five a week in order to avoid layoffs. At twenty-six, I was one of the youngest pilots in the fleet, but I had enough seniority to avoid losing my job. But I agreed with my fellow pilots and would rather use up some vacation time to avoid anybody losing their job. So instead of being off three days out of every week, I was off four. I hate being idle; I can’t sit back and do nothing. So I here I am, piloting a buddy of mine’s DC-3, doing cargo runs to Wenatchee from Seattle.

Yet another team archaeologist finds the groove

Dr. Emory had called it a day at the tomb dig outside Sudan’s upper Nile Sulb Temple. It had been so hot that I had stripped down to a pair of cotton bush shorts for the afternoon. I was standing by the water buckets, ladling cool water over my head and letting it sluice down my body when I noticed Clint Winston, another of the archaeologists on the dig, and Dr. Emory’s personal assistant, eyeing me up and down. I registered that I’d have to be very careful with that one. If he had any inkling that I was having it on with the young Egyptian archaeologist, Mustafa, or with a strapping, very well endowed warrior of a local African tribe, he’d turn me in to Dr. Emory in an instant. And then I’d be flying home, my name erased from the archaeology team, just when we were close to opening the ancient Egyptian tomb.

Marine falls for Navy Seal.

Chapter Five

I went to Toby’s several times, with no hope that Jason would be there, but just to be in a place where we had been together. Mostly, though, I hung around the barracks and took on extra duty so I could be around to monitor the phone. I was counting the days, and too many had passed. Then one night got a call from an orderly at the hospital.

“Corporal Jason Seaborn asked me to call you.”

“He’s there?” I asked, barely able to work up the air to get the words out.

“Yeah.”

Yet another team archaeologist finds the groove

Dr. Emory had called it a day at the tomb dig outside Sudan’s upper Nile Sulb Temple. It had been so hot that I had stripped down to a pair of cotton bush shorts for the afternoon. I was standing by the water buckets, ladling cool water over my head and letting it sluice down my body when I noticed Clint Winston, another of the archaeologists on the dig, and Dr. Emory’s personal assistant, eyeing me up and down. I registered that I’d have to be very careful with that one. If he had any inkling that I was having it on with the young Egyptian archaeologist, Mustafa, or with a strapping, very well endowed warrior of a local African tribe, he’d turn me in to Dr. Emory in an instant. And then I’d be flying home, my name erased from the archaeology team, just when we were close to opening the ancient Egyptian tomb.

When you save someone’s life, they belong to you.

I was staring out at the wide expanse of the Cascade Mountains as I piloted over them. I worked for one of the airlines, based in Seattle. I usually flew small, 70-seat commuter aircraft, but was certified to fly all the way up to a 737. I had spent almost every waking moment from the time I was 12 learning how to fly. I loved the freedom and thrill of soaring through the air.

I’m one of the few people who didn’t have to enter the military to get a commercial pilot’s license. But, with the horrid slump that the airline industry was currently in, we had all agreed to trim back our hours by just five a week in order to avoid layoffs. At twenty-six, I was one of the youngest pilots in the fleet, but I had enough seniority to avoid losing my job. But I agreed with my fellow pilots and would rather use up some vacation time to avoid anybody losing their job. So instead of being off three days out of every week, I was off four. I hate being idle; I can’t sit back and do nothing. So I here I am, piloting a buddy of mine’s DC-3, doing cargo runs to Wenatchee from Seattle.

Two powerful angels descend to lay claim on a college boy.

“This story is a figment of my imagination. It has been dancing in my mind for too long and I finally decided to write it down. Hope it serves as a good read.”

*

Episode 2

“Steve.” Aiden whispered to the sleeping form. “Hey buddy, get up.”

Steve rolled towards one side and half opened his eyes to see who was disturbing him.

“Hey C’mon, let’s play some tennis.”

“What’s the time?” Steve inquired groggily.

“It’s 5:40.”

“And it’s Sunday morning right?”

“Yeah, so do you wanna play?”

They declare an unusual truce.

Edgewick guided my lovely rival, still-sniffling, to the opposite corner. I listened for extra swats but didn’t hear any, which I suppose was fair since he was freshly caned, whereas the burn in my bottom had had a chance to dissipate somewhat–while I got to watch a highly enjoyable show.

The time in the corner passed slowly, but my cock stubbornly refused to go down. Sad to say, I was unable to put the time to its intended use, to reflect on my bad behavior, as I was too busy reflecting on Khalili’s caning. I kept picturing his firm cheeks rebounding from the impact of the cane, the stripe coloring bright red, the heaving of his smooth olive-skinned shoulders. Even the sniffling and snorting. My mind was reeling. My ass was stinging. I longed to rub it, but I longed to get my hands on my cock more. Getting my hands on Khalili seemed like too much to ask.

Time to face up to unpleasant facts.

A BOY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD – CHAPTER 16

© Sadie Rose Bermingham 2006

“Another weekend, another chapter. There is a double warning on this one; it’s a very, very sad chapter, although no one actually dies… I’m the not the porn version of J K Rowling just yet! Also there is some non-consensual activity at the heart of this segment. I’ve tried my bestest to make it un-gratuitous but it’s there and it happens so anyone who isn’t into that maybe ought to skim over that part. I will apologise that there actually isn’t a great deal of SEX in Ch 16… because I don’t want to waste the time of anyone just looking for a wank. This ain’t a wank chapter, sorry guys and gals. I will try my hardest to make up for that in the next one which, very, very possibly, will be the last proper chapter before the Epilogue. I can hear you sighing with relief even now. I know I am!! LOL