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SONJA WAS A TYPICAL flying instructor, most of the time, but she was a remarkably shapely woman all the time. Patrick T Camberwell tried to concentrate on his flying, despite the left breast in contact with his right arm – this hidden, feminine part of her, bouncing with each ripple of the turbulent summer air.
So far the cross-country had been difficult, if not disastrous. The aircraft was not the usual Robin. It was the same basic type, of course, but many instruments were subtly different. The airspeed indicator was calibrated in kilometres per hour as well as knots – this had been pretty distracting during the takeoff and climb out. Minor controls were also in different positions, and worst of all, the radio was weak and crackly. Humiliatingly, Sonja had helped him out when he’d had trouble understanding the air traffic controller while he negotiated a military zone crossing.
But now he’d settled down a bit and things were going reasonably well, provided he made a big play of doing his lookout and FREDA check every so often. He was even holding his course fairly well on this long leg.
‘It gets very hot in here, ja?’
Ja, it was getting hot, now she mentioned it. ‘Yes, these bubble canopies become greenhouses in the sunshine, don’t they?’ Despite the long streets of fair-weather cumulous – stretching from just above, to the far horizon – they were still in strong sunlight much of the time. He looked around for the air vent lever ... Jesus, that was different too – and the bloody thing seemed to be jammed closed! Patrick hated to ask her to help out again, but she was already on the case.
‘Here, I try it ...’ She leaned across him in the tight cockpit to reach the knob and, while she fiddled, her breast jiggled deliciously in the crook of his forearm; she almost seemed to be doing it deliberately. He glanced at her. A beautiful woman with light blue eyes, she wore her long, dark hair pinned up – cleared for action, he imagined.
She smiled. ‘No, it is stuck. I think there is plenty enough to breathe, but it gets warmer.’ Almost reluctantly, she sat back again, with a big sigh – which he didn’t hear, but felt, via more breast pressure on his arm.
Jesus, this bosom contact was beginning to affect him. He glanced down. Yes! He tried to ease his four-point harness to cover his growing problem, but she’d already noticed. Sonja didn’t miss a trick.
‘Time for another lookout scan, Patrick,’ she nagged.
A slim white glider, fast cruising between the thermals under the streets of cloud, passed 500ft below, well clear. She’d already seen that too.
God, it’s hot in here.
‘You must learn to keep up your scan, whatever distract you.’ And with that, she removed her headset, loosened her shoulder harness and took off her shirt. She threw it behind her into the aft stowage.
Wow, it’s hotter now!
OK, she had a bra on, a black one, which she filled out very well. But bras, unlike bikini tops are rather private items, very much a prelude to sex from a male viewpoint. Patrick’s preliminary erection became full blown. He groaned down the intercom, but she already had her headset back on.
‘What the matter? It is hot – we make ourselves comfortable, I do, anyway. Sauna much hotter than this.’
‘I guess so, Sonja.’
Sauna? She would look spectacular in a sauna ...
He tried to relax and control the aeroplane more smoothly.
‘That much better. You are now enjoying the flight and the view.’
‘Oh, yeah!’ He certainly was, but which view did she mean? He glanced across at her. She looked up from his straining crotch and smiled. ‘I enjoy view too!’
Bugger their respective views, he had to fly this aircraft and keep a lookout! Then FREDA again: Fuel, Radio, Engine, Direction, Altimeter. It was hard in this heat and with other things on his mind. How long to the next waypoint? Fifteen minutes. His shirt was dripping with perspiration.
‘You are doing so well, Patrick. I make you more comfortable.’ She loosened his shoulder harness and pulled his shirt out from under the quick-release. ‘Now I fly while you get comfortable yourself. I have control.’
‘You have control,’ he responded, relinquishing the stick and rudder to her. Annoyingly, the aircraft steadied as if it were on autopilot. He got his almost dripping shirt right off, stowed it and prepared to take over again.
She glanced across at him and flicked her steel-blue eyes down again. ‘Are you quite sure you are comfortable?’
He followed her gaze. He certainly was not!
‘It is OK. You are wearing shorts underneath, ja?’
He was wearing boxers, ja. ‘I guess I’ll get more comfortable, then,’ he grinned. Keeping his feet well clear of the rudder pedals, he unclipped his knee-board, passed it to Sonja, and pulled off his trousers. They slipped easily over the heels of his flying trainers.
‘Ah, that’s better, Sonja; thank you.’ Without top clothes, the heat was no problem. This was pleasant. His huge erection (well maintained by the slightly scratchy push of her left bra cup against his right arm) was evident, but not obscene while tented by his boxers. It was still not clear if the woman beside him was just very relaxed about such things or wanted to proceed further – and there were clearly limits, in this small cockpit with an aircraft demanding to be flown.
‘Now I get my trousers off too. You have control.’
‘I have control.’ But he watched as she uncovered her long legs and reached forward to grab and stow the trousers.
‘You keep a good lookout – and stay on course.’
Oops, he was more than ten degrees off already! He scanned the sky as he corrected. Nothing – oh, just that big high-wing job over to the left on a similar height and heading. Well clear, and being on his port side, the other aircraft’s responsibility to stay clear.
‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’ He pointed out the traffic.
‘Very good. Now do those FREDA checks.’
‘I just did, Sonja.’
‘Do them again.’
He did, aware that she was wriggling a little.
Finally he could spare a glance across at her. Her creamy thighs still stretched out beautifully from black knickers ... But that scratchy breast pressing against his arm, now felt cool and silky smooth ...
Silky smooth skin; the bra had gone.
Her left nipple nodded amiably over his boxers as its supporting breast bobbed in the light turbulence.
She’s crossed the line. This is a definite enticement – and Lucy’s waiting for me back at Greenfield ...
Her other breast performing its own casual lookout over the right side of the bubble canopy reminded him of his duties. He glanced rapidly left to check on that other aircraft. Still well clear.
‘That traffic remains well clear. And we have right of way.’
‘Ja. I have control.’
‘You have control.’
‘You are doing very well with me distracting you, Patrick. Relax a bit while I fly. Can you please scratch my back? I have the little itch where my brassiere strap was cutting in. I hope you didn’t mind me taking it off.’
‘Of course not ...’
She leaned forward and he dutifully scratched her offered back. There were marks left by the heavy-duty garment. It was probably quite a relief for her to shed it. But surely that was not the only reason? Her unfettered boobs looked absolutely delicious.
Before he knew it, he’d reached around her and taken firm support of each smooth, cool breast, one in each hand. He watched her eyes close momentarily, and heard her deep sigh on the intercom. He felt the delicious weight and softness of her tits; he fondled her nipples until they stood proud. He simply couldn’t resist her.
Her left hand strayed across to the tip of the pole under his taut boxers. It then slipped under the waistband and had him out and upstanding in the cockpit.
Ah that felt good!
‘You have control, Patrick.’
‘Ah, I have control, Sonja.’ He let go of only one breast as he took the control stick with his throttle hand. With her own hands full, Sonja didn’t seem to notice the irregularity.
Her mouth was down upon him in a heartbeat. The warm wetness of it enveloped his cock. He could feel her tongue licking around the head and then the shaft as she took him deeper in her mouth.
My lovely instructor has gone down on me!
His mind a-jumble, he tried to concentrate on his flying – someone had to do it! He looked around. That other aircraft ... Where was it now? He looked up higher, searching ...
Shit! It’s close.
Not dangerously so, but the pilot up high could probably see the topless inhabitants of the bubble cockpit below, the woman performing fellatio in all her glory.
‘I have control!’
‘You have control.’ he relinquished as Sonja smoothly made a safe-distancing manoeuvre, turning right and down. ‘He should have kept clear of us, being on our port side ...’
‘Ja – I think he was peeping at us. He is clear now?’
‘He’s changed course to the left. He’s dropping away, accelerating ahead ... Well clear now.’
‘So. You can put your hands, back where they were on my body – it is nice while I fly ... Mmmmm! What shall we do now? You like a sauna and a cup of tea?’
‘Well, er, yes, but ...’
‘Give me the track from our present position to here.’ She marked the map with her chinagraph and passed it to him. He measured the angle with his square protractor.
‘125 degrees magnetic.’
She rolled onto that heading, allowing for drift, looking carefully around as she did so. ‘You can hold me again.’
While he handled her tits, she pressed the radio “tit”.
‘Greenfield Radio this is ah, Alpha Zulu.’
‘Alpha Zulu, pass your message.’
‘Change of flight plan. Ah, now landing out at Shepherd’s Farm. Will, ah, re-file return by phone later.’
‘Alpha Zulu, all copied. Thanks, Sonja! Greenfield out.’
Lucy would have heard all that while waiting in the club. He wondered if she’d notice the slightly gasping transmission as Sonja was being deeply fondled ... He would text his new girlfriend a reassuring message once they landed out. It wasn’t as if Lucy and he were an item – or even having sex.
Twenty minutes later, Sonja’s landing on the private grass strip was superb. Still cradling her breasts, he hardly felt any increase in their weight on touchdown, but they both surged forward, bouncing, during the necessary hard braking on the short rollout.
‘Do you know the owner here, Sonja?’
‘Ja, my husband.’
Husband!
His erection, much softened during the approach over pylons and the short-field landing, disappeared. But, presumably, surely, hubby was out?
‘I didn’t know ...’
‘He is German. That is his Pilatus,’ she pointed, as they taxied up to the large open barn that acted as a hangar. Inside it was a big, Swiss PC-6 Pilatus Turbo-Porter with a single turboprop engine, the same aircraft that had been watching them! And probably the same one he’d seen “meat bombing” – dropping parachutists, high over Greenfield last week. Just about the biggest fixed-wing aircraft you could get into this strip, he thought. It looked bloody enormous close-up on the ground, with its 600-odd horsepower turbine engine – much bigger than seen air-to-air just recently. Shit! He hoped her husband wasn’t equally big.
‘Why didn’t you say that it was your husband who saw us?’
‘Maybe it was not. There is another Pilatus in the area, and I didn’t get registration, did you?’
‘No.’
‘Anyway, it may not have been him flying. He often rents it out.’ It didn’t appear to give her much concern.
The Robin’s propeller shuddered to a stop and Sonja lifted the cockpit bubble high in the cooler summer air. Patrick found he was still supporting the German Pilatus pilot’s wife’s bare tits out in the open, her nipples crinkling slightly. Had that husband just seen them intimate together? He looked across and saw the heat-haze rippling above the turbine exhaust. Nice place – he was going to die here ...
‘We now run to sauna!’ Wearing just her knickers, she climbed out of the cockpit and loped off towards the house, breasts bouncing in all directions. She could knock herself out, running like that, he thought. He adjusted his boxers and trotted after her, wondering if he should really be running in the opposite direction, or even hijacking the unsecured Robin back to Greenfield.
He caught up with her outside the small separate building he took to be the sauna.
‘Sonja?’
‘Ja, Patrick?
The blast of hot air hit him as she opened the door. ‘Where is your ... Oh.’
‘Patrick, I would like you to meet my husband, Otto.’
Crikey – he was big, even sitting down. ‘Ah ... Hello, Otto.’
‘Hi, Patrick, gut to meet you! Get zoes boxers off and make yourself comfortable.’ He threw a small towel into Patrick’s lap. ‘Do you like much steam?’
‘Ah, not for the moment, thanks.’
‘My Swedish wife – she is nuts about the sauna. I have to build this place for her.’ He gestured with a big open-handed sweep.
‘Very nice,’ admired Patrick.
Sonja kept her black knickers on as she sat smiling beside her towel-clad husband.
Despite his surprise, Patrick did make himself comfortable, going along with the bizarre situation. It wasn’t too hot – a comfortable dry heat.
‘Sonja told me she might bring student for sauna today.’
Ah, that accounted for Otto’s relaxed demeanour, so it seemed he was probably under no immediate threat of dismemberment by the blond Teutonic giant – who may, or may not have seen them in flagrante delicto.
Surely he wouldn’t be so calm and friendly if he had? Things would be fine.
Then things changed.
‘Otto, I have been naughty.’ Sonja hung her head.
‘What have you done, mein liebling?’
‘I have been teasing Patrick when we were flying together.’
Shit! What the hell is she up to? It’s all been going so well. Patrick really started to sweat.
‘Then you must show me now how you have been teasing poor Patrick.’
Sonja sauntered across to where Patrick was sprawled, and swung her breasts only inches above his face. He had his first really close-up view of her nipples. His open mouth watered, his lips longed to suck that perfect, crinkly texture.
‘And what did you do, Patrick?’
‘Ah, well ... Ah, I didn’t do very much at all ... I ...’
‘I hope you touched her just a little bit. My wife is very beautiful woman – any man would do this – it’s OK.’
‘Well, yes, I did actually, just a bit.’
‘Show me.’
Very carefully, Patrick reached out and touched her left breast with his right hand, his heart racing – fully aware of a possible husband explosion at any moment. It was intended to be the gentlest of contacts, but Sonja pushed the ample boob into his palm, and somehow his hand ended up groping her lower breast and gripping around her upstanding nipple.
‘Maybe you use both the hands on both the breasts. You must show me – it is OK.’
In for a penny, thought Patrick. Clearly the husband/wife relationship here was a trifle exotic, to say the least. Now he fondled Sonja from the front as she leant over him, rather than from behind while she was flying – such an inviting prospect with her lovely nipples still magnetically attracting his mouth. He gave in and found himself kissing and sucking them at last – something he’d been unable to do when airborne.
Sonja sighed and moaned, hunching her shoulders as Patrick worked on her tits.
‘Well, I think this deserves the spanking for my wife.’
‘Oh, Otto!’
‘But not yet. I think there is maybe something else my wife has done. I know this woman. She must show me this now.’
Without hesitation Sonja snatched away the towel from Patrick’s lap, bent over and took him into her mouth once again. Despite the situation, Patrick was fully up for her. He revelled in the feeling of her hot mouth working on him once more. A few stray wisps of her dark hair tickled his thighs. He’d wondered why she’d kept her hair pinned up out of the way – now he knew. She was always ready for action.
Jesus, he thought, it hardly matters what hubby did or didn’t see before – he can sure see it all now!
‘And now I will start the spanking. Be very careful with him, Sonja.’
His towel wrapped around his loins, Otto stood behind his wife and eased her knickers to the floor. Without missing a beat with the motion of her mouth, she stepped out of them. The big man faced up to the bare behind presented to him. His hand swung back.
Smack!
With her mouth full, she made only a slight muffled yelp, that he felt as much as heard. The smack was probably softer than it sounded – but it sounded fairly loud.
Smack! There were many, many more, and with each one Sonja rolled her bare buttocks around in Otto’s face as if defying him. Patrick was getting very aroused. He would soon be ready to come, but as the guest here, would he be violating his hospitality if he did so? Just what was the damned protocol in these situations? As for Otto, his towel had long gone, and he showed a moderate amount of manly arousal. If Patrick had been in his shoes, he would have been quite unable to resist spearing Sonja’s lovely behind 20 spanks ago.
‘And now we change the places,’ announced the husband.
Patrick found himself facing the prospect of Sonja’s broad and somewhat rosy bottom with his rampant cock urgent for duty, while Sonja went down on her husband, who simply lay back passively on the bench, staring at the ceiling.
With one protocol problem avoided, he was now faced with another. ‘You want me to spank her?’
‘Don’t you dare to spank my wife, Patrick!’ rumbled Otto, his eyes now closed.
Well, that was clear enough.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’ Patrick happily spread her buttocks wide. Sonja wiggled her bottom in invitation as his fingers opened her lovely labia. She was very juicy. His need was so urgent. He drew the head of his cock up through her wetness until he was in position. He sighed as he slipped smoothly right up inside her, all the way. She made a muffled sound of pleasure. For a fleeting moment he wondered if this was what he was supposed to do. Of course it was! Did he need Otto’s permission? No. Fuck Otto! He had definitely been invited into this woman by both concerned parties – and he was right inside now! So he fucked Sonja.
For some time he fucked her, feeling her hanging breasts, caressing her back and buttock cheeks as he thrust, until her motion accelerated and she began to toss her bottom around in a circle. From that point, he just seemed to be holding on as Sonja’s inner muscles gripped him, running up and down his length as he sped in and out. He came at last – a come long delayed from Sonja’s earlier attentions. He filled her in long spurts, crying out with each one until, finally, her motion calmed and she seemed satisfied.
What had happened at Otto’s end, he had no idea, but Otto seemed satisfied too – almost asleep, in fact as a flushed and sparkly-eyed Sonja wiped her inner thighs with his towel.
‘That was lovely, Patrick. Would you like some tea now?’
Sonja could not be found lacking in hospitality.

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a dream. They left Otto in the sauna and had tea and dark, continental chocolate biscuits in the kitchen – still both in their underwear and she delightfully bare-breasted. She began to brief him for the flight back to Greenfield. Back at the aircraft, they dressed and did the walk-round. She fixed the cabin air vent with a little sleight-of-hand trick that made him almost certain that she’d sabotaged the damned thing in the first place.
Now here he was, taxiing up to Greenfield’s grass apron after a strange flight, performing all the Skills Test items he had practised before. He recalled that they had even diverted on the earlier cross-country – a requirement for the navigation section of the test. He was expecting to do the actual test on the next flight tomorrow. He shut down and secured the aircraft while she completed paperwork. ‘Congratulations, Patrick, you have passed all your Skills Test – you now have your PPL!’
Although he’d suspected he was being tested, he was still taken aback. He finally had his Private Pilots Licence! ‘Wow, Sonja, how can I ever thank you?’
‘I thank you as well, Patrick.’ She leant over and kissed him full on the lips for a few moments. Then she slipped him her card. ‘Please stay in touch with us at the farm. I mean it. Do not be the stranger.’
She grabbed her flight bag and headset, and jumped out onto the grass. He’d been aware of increasing turbine noise behind. He turned and saw that the big, tail-dragging Pilatus was taxiing up to the apron, swinging its long nose from side to side for visibility. Sonja jogged towards it as it swung right around, presenting its starboard side door for her to open and climb aboard. She waved and blew him a kiss before joining her husband.
Patrick stood by the Robin, spellbound, watching the big machine taxi out, raise its tail during the takeoff, and then climb steeply away.
As the turbine noise faded into the distance, he became aware of Lucy standing beside him.
‘If I didn’t know that that fräulein is a fräu with her mann, I would say I had something to worry about, Patrick ... Do I?’
He looked at her for a moment. A really lovely, golden-haired girl, but was she being rather territorial considering how briefly they’d been going out?
And where the hell was that aviatrix, Sonja, taking him? He would not be the stranger. He would go back – and maybe not alone.
Time to chill.
He looked into her beautiful green eyes. ‘No, you don’t, Lucy – unless you hate saunas. And she is Swedish, actually.’