Triked, Tricked, Trolloped

I took my hands away from the sides of the seat and tugged at the zip until it was down around my waist. Then I struggled to free myself from the tight folds of the flying suit until I was back where I’d started from, with both of my tits hanging out, though held together tightly and pushed up almost as high as my chin by the narrow opening of the garment. Just to make it even more fun the zipper teeth seemed to be doing a good job of trying to saw both of my boobs off.

“Come on, Sandra, what are you playing around at? You’ve got an impatient man back here!”

“Shut up! I’m being as quick as I can. . .”

The tee-shirt was a tight fit as well, and as I clawed it up inch by inch the loose folds collecting up underneath my throat fluttered wildly in the wind. We were passing over a farm house, a tractor moving between the sheds like a picture on toy box. I hadn’t realized how much higher we’d gone up since leaving the beach. It was cooler, too, even cold. When I lifted the last fold of my shirt up over my nipples the wind chilled them into a firming response. Brett was going to enjoy finding out about that!

“Sandra, surely you’re ready by now? Or do I have to shake you up again?”

“I’m ready, you whinging bastard!”

“Both of them hanging out and bare?”

“Yes,” I confessed.

He chortled with delight: “Don’t worry if they’re getting cold, I’ll soon warm them up for you. Now, put your hands on the control bar and do your best to keep the wings level with the horizon. Don’t worry, it’s easy to do.”

Maybe it was for him but I couldn’t imagine it being easy for me. Yet when I held the bar nothing much seemed to happen, except we began wobbling more than before. I wondered if Brett was still holding onto the extensions. Then I suddenly found out for a fact that his hands weren’t on the control bar because they were slipping around my arms. And this time they didn’t stop until his fingers were cupping both of my breasts and making my nipples respond as if they’d been touched with live wires from a battery. Yet for the first time in my life I was being felt by a strange pair of hands and hardly noticing them beyond an involuntary bodily response. What was taking up the really major part of my attention was stopping the trike from toppling out of the sky. My eyes were flicking from right to left and back again as I checked each wingtip, desperately trying to keep them balanced against the horizon. In comparison to the difficulty of doing that having Brett playing with my breasts was just an annoying distraction.

“Aaah, that’s nice. . . I never know which is best, flying, or getting a grip on a new pair of tits for the first time. When you can do both together that’s magic. And when they’re nice juicy water melons like yours, Sandra, that’s a real bonus.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to drive this thing!”

“Better do a good job then, sweetie, because if we pile in now in this position the accident investigation guys won’t need any black box to know what happened. They’ll put it on my tombstone – ‘He had too much cock in his cockpit’.”

I couldn’t prevent myself from giggling at that crack, which stopped abruptly as we hit an air pocket or something and the trike quivered like a puppy shaking off water. I squealed as the horizon dipped and began to slide around us.

“Don’t worry,” Brett told me calmly. “Push the bar forward – forward!” He emphasized the command by jerking my nipples away from me. It was quite painful but that was the least of my worries as I pressed as hard as I could against the bar. Things seemed to change, not that I was quite sure how, but we were still turning.

“Tilt the bar up to the right,” Brett ordered, reinforcing the command by scrunching my right tit in his hand as hard as he could. I gasped and did as he wanted, until we were flying properly. Somehow we’d turned completely around again though, because the sea was in front of us now.

“Handling techniques taught with sensory input reinforcement – works wonders, every time. Hey, Sandra, you’ve starting some heavy breathing. It’s about time you showed some reaction after all the effort I’ve put into getting you turned on.”

“I’m frightened, not excited!”

“Like hell. I told you you’d look better than that sheila on the boat when you were stripped off and now you’re wondering when it’s going to happen. What you’d like is for me to land as soon as I can and then give you a good general purpose fucking – with another afterwards for luck.”

He spread his fingers out as wide as he could and sank them into my soft flesh as I swallowed air again, just as I had at the beginning of the flight. I’d done it then because I’d suddenly found myself involved in something I knew I was going to go through with and now I felt the same way again. If we landed in a remote place and Brett kept pressuring me in the same places as he was now there was only going to be one outcome, because he was right, I was getting as eager to be laid as he was. Then he started crooning a romantic little seasonal number:

“Rudolph, the red titted reindeer,
with your nips so tight,
won’t you pull my sleigh tonight?”

I called him a cunt.

“You’re lucky, Sandra, I’ve had a vasectomy, so we can do it the old fashioned way, with me riding you bareback. You girls really need it pumped into you before you get that final zing out of it, right? God, as soon as I landed on the beach and saw you I knew it was going to be my lucky day – one look and I was sure you were absolutely ripe for rooting. So we’d better get on with it.”

His hands came off me: “OK, I’ve got the bar. We’re seven kilometers from a nice little spot for a bit of quiet nookie out in the open air, so let’s wend, Pancho!”

“Pancho – what does that mean?”

“Before your time, Sandra, before your time.”

The trike turned around tightly, back towards the hills. Brett kept talking. “There used to be a fire lookout tower on that ridge ahead. It’s been taken down now but the Forestry Commission made an airstrip a few hundred meters down on the opposite slope. Just enough for a little biplane to land and change the fire spotters over every two weeks or so. It was never worth the cost of putting in a road. So we use it now.”

“What do you mean by ‘we’?”

“Trike flyers. We’re the only ones who can get in that area now, unless you walk, and not many people do that. It’s an ideal place for some open air fucking.”

His assumption that I was putty in his hands to do whatever he liked with made me grate my teeth in anger. I was torn between wanting to put scratch marks on his back or across those smiling eyes of his.

“You know something, Sandra, sometimes I teach people how to fly trikes. And one thing I have to show them is how difficult it is to fly on instruments alone and why they should stay clear of clouds. To do that I have a hood which fits over a flying helmet. It covers their eyes but it’s cut away underneath so they can still breathe and look down at the instrument panel. I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?”

I couldn’t understand what he was talking about: “What are you asking me for? I don’t know anything about flying.”

“OK then, I’ll tell you something entirely different. When they were training hunting falcons back in medieval days, they always used to tame a falcon when it landed by putting a hood over its head. I think you might be tempted to use your claws on me when we land so I think I’ll tame you with the same technique, by putting my blind flying hood over your helmet. What a piece of good luck I just happen to have it handy.”

The sarcastic bastard was really enjoying himself.

“Hold onto the control bar again, Sandra, and listen for any orders I give you.”

I put my hands back onto the rubber grips. A second later a piece of black fabric was pulled down around the helmet, then a cord around the bottom of it jerked tightly underneath the helmet and around my neck. It all happened very quickly. As Brett had said, a large rectangular piece was cut out at the bottom of the hood but to see anything I had to literally look down my nose – or past it anyway.

“OK, Sandra, I’ve got the control bar again now. Incidentally, that cord is tied up behind your head now, and you wouldn’t find it a very easy knot to undo. Nor can you undo the helmet straps underneath your chin while the bag’s on. You’ve heard of the man in the iron mask? Well, you’re going to be the lady in the plastic helmet until I let you out of it. Which will be after I’ve had the pleasure of your company.”

He sounded about as happy as a man could be. Which, under the circumstances, was probably justified. A nice day flying around, see a woman you fancy, swoop down, pick her up, squeeze her teats, make her helpless and then spend a happy afternoon giving the stupid bitch the thorough shafting she deserves for her trusting stupidity. I wondered if he was as inventive a lover as he was a liar and a flier.

The trike began turning and turning, presumably over the place where he intended to land. With my head craned back as far as I could get it I could just manage to look straight down into a frustratingly narrow field of vision. There were the slopes of the ridge, littered with large stones, then some trees close together, an open expanse of grass, a kind of large wooden framework which must have been the base of the fire watching tower. What looked like a sheet of canvas had been tied between the stunted wooden legs to cover the ground between them.

I saw something else as well, small differently colored scraps of material fluttering gently from the sides of the four legs, like bunting outside a used car lot. The difference was that I was sure this bunting was exclusively composed of girls’ panties. Not bunting, but little flags of triumph, two or three tied to each leg.

“Can you see our wind markers, Sandra? You’re not the first flying fuck up here, not by a long way.”

“You’re the most arrogant man I’ve ever met!”

“Yes, but am I the most arrogant man ever to fuck you?”

“You haven’t done it yet.”

“Well, Sandra, I hoisted up most of those panties myself, and yours are definitely going to be the next pair to go up.”

“And did you have to blindfold the other girls too?”

He laughed: “Every one a blind date, Sandra, every one of them. Until it was time for them to suck my cock. Then I let them see what they were doing.”

I would have given my life’s savings for a chance to get some of my own back on the bastard. Even just to scream abuse at him, but it didn’t seem like a good idea while he was landing the trike. Nor did it seem sensible to have my head twisted over to one side as the grass came nearer and nearer. Better to sit upright and ramrod straight in case it was a hard impact. Staring into the black depths of the material over my face plate, I held on and waited for the thump. There was one, hardly noticeable, then the same vibration from the wheels as had happened when we were running along the beach. I hastily took my feet off the foot bars, where I’d been resting them without remembering Brett’s instructions to keep clear of them as we landed.

Then the vibration ended and the engine stopped. No more wind blowing past, only the chilled skin on my breasts as a reminder of it and the hot sun warming them already. The pod creaked as Brett got out.

“Hold the control bar, Sandra.”

This time, after he’d taken the wing tip ground pin out from under my seat, he put his hand right up between the legs of the flying overalls and rubbed me slowly. I think what he enjoyed most about it was that I made no protest, no effort to stop him. The truth was that I was unable to make up my mind what to do. I hadn’t resisted Brett in the air because I’d been afraid of us crashing. I couldn’t do much to stop him now, even if I wanted to, not being almost totally blind. Even if the mask and the helmet were taken off, I’d still be on my own with him way out here in the bush. But the first thing to do was to try to persuade him to undo the stifling mask, no matter what I had to do for him afterwards.

“Please, Brett, let me take this helmet off. It’s like having my head in a bucket with it on.”

“Later, Sandra, later. When you ask nicely enough I’ll let you give me a blow job. Tilt the bar now and hold it while I secure the wing tip. Gently, gently, that’s far enough.”

His shadow across my legs moved away as he went to secure the wing. Now I could feel that a breeze was blowing up here in the hills, a hot gentle breeze fluttering around the open flying suit and the tee shirt drawn up tight around my throat, almost as tight as my throat muscles were inside. It would have been wonderful to have felt the wind on my flushed face. Something hit the ground, probably Brett’s helmet. He’d wasted no time in taking his off, I noted angrily.

“Put your hands down by the sides of your seat, Sandra. I want to take a good long look at the scenery.”

He was standing next to the trike. He had to be for me to hear him through the helmet – anyway, I could see his shadow falling across my knees again. God, he must be loving this! I imagined myself as he was seeing me, helpless and undone, my big boobs scrunched up and hanging out like ripe fruit in the sunlight, ready for the picking. Brett’s shadow blotted out everything else as he bent lower and I was surprised when his hands went down to unfasten my seat straps, rather than further up or lower down. It occurred to me that perhaps he wouldn’t risk a struggle anywhere near his precious microlight. He helped me out of the pod anyway, then led me away by the hand as I stumbled along behind him, trying to keep my eyes on my feet as we stepped through the rough grass. Spears of it stabbed through my beach sandals and made me gasp in pain. One thing was certain, I wouldn’t be running away, even if there had been anywhere to run to.

“Almost there, now, Sandra. A few more paces.”

A few paces it was, into the shade that I felt more than saw on the ground. No dapples in it, no flecks, but a total shield from the sun. We weren’t underneath a tree, so we must be below the canvas sheet I’d seen flying overhead in the trike. The wind was still fluttering over my boobs though, so it wasn’t like a tent, there were no canvas walls. We were still in the open air, standing in the remains of the old fire watching tower. The ruins decorated with all those intimate feminine articles presumably left behind by other visiting trike fliers. My knees began trembling.

“OK, Sandra, shake them for me.”

“What?”

“Put your hands up underneath your tits and shake them up and down for me.”

I tried to summon up my remained of my self respect. “And what if I don’t?”

Even with the thick plastic dome over my head I heard his chuckle: “Then the helmet will have to stay on until you decide to do what you’re told.”

It was the obvious response, an easy and effective one. He knew how much I wanted to take it off. I sighed and did as he wanted, gently juggling myself for his benefit. Brett had won at every deal in the game and now he was starting to claim his winnings. And he was probably sighing too, if he really thought I was as fuckable as he kept on saying I was.

“Now that’s a job I wouldn’t mind helping you with. In fact I think I will help you with it.”

Yes, he did sigh, with satisfaction, as he put his hands back on top of my nipples and plucked them into hardened points. It was skillfully done work which had me holding them up to him for the treatment to continue. He obliged with his tongue, his lips and his teeth. A very odd experience, not to be able to see but to be seen, to be almost blind and yet to be right out in the open air. I wondered if there were any bush walkers in the area with binoculars held to their eyes as they watched the performance. Especially when Brett suckled me so fiercely that I had to hold onto his shoulders to stop from overbalancing.

“You bastard, Brett, you bastard . . .”

“I think it’s time we stripped you off some more, Sandra.”

I felt his hand tugging unzipping the front of the flying suit, all the way down to the bottom. He was moving around me, behind me I thought, then knew I was right as he tugged at the collar of the suit and pulled it down along my arms and off over my hands. The suit fell down, leaving me with the tee-shirt still hauled up over the tops of my breasts and my panties. I felt their waistband pulled back behind me and then I yelped as he twanged the elastic against my spine.

“Beautifully posed, Sandra, beautifully posed. Just one slight adjustment and you’ll look perfect.”

One fast tug and the panties were down where the flying suit was, below my knees, with Brett laughing aloud at my instinctive and totally useless attempt to grab them as they were plucked away.

“Brett!”

“Christ, Sandra, you’re built like a brick shithouse. Love those legs, you must be a blood stirring sight in a miniskirt. Now let’s see if your cunt feels as good as your tits do.”

I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that I out in the middle of the bush, naked between the pulled up shirt and my knees, with a hand creeping up between my legs, another on my right nipple and a mouth over the left one. And what did I do about it? What I did about it was to grip Brett’s shoulders again to keep my balance while I stood there like a knocked kneed cowgirl so the exploring fingers could have all the room they needed. Oh, and as a final touch of encouragement, he must have been able to hear my grunts of satisfaction coming from beneath the helmet. Even to my own ears I sounded like a pig snuffling through garbage. Brett snorted too, he snorted with laughter when he stopped sucking my nipple because he knew I was shivering with eagerness for everything and anything he wanted to do with me.

“OK, Sandra, take two steps forward and put your hands out in front of you.” His voice was brisk and commanding.

“There’s a table there, a wooden one we found here. On top of it there’s a mattress. Don’t worry about it slipping, it’s tied to the table. Turn around and sit on the end of the mattress, then lie down on your back and spread your knees out to show off your cunt.”

“You’re a real charmer, Brett, aren’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not interested in massaging your ego, Sandra just the rest of you. Get your arse on that table and spread them, because I’m coming for you, ready or not.”

I did as he wanted. The edge of the table appeared underneath my chin as I shuffled forward, and the mattress as well. It seemed low enough for me to able to lift myself up on it without much difficulty. It was also thin, and old, and dirty, and sticky. None of which was surprising considering what it was used for. Yet although I’d reached the stage where I needed to have the same thing done to me, it was still a humiliation to be sitting there with my clothing twisted up around my legs as though I was sitting on a toilet bowl.

“On your back, Sandra.”

There was no point in trying to argue. I leaned back on the tacky mattress cover, to find that the helmet supported my head quite comfortably. Through the gap underneath the hood I peered down my body, but my tits blocked out almost all the view, except for an occasional glimpse of movement at the end of the table. Then I saw his dark hair for a second as he lowered himself between my legs. His hands spread my knees even wider apart than they already were.

“Ah, my favorite food – a gently simmering cunt that needs a long slow steaming.”

The first touch of his tongue set me quivering. After the first few minutes I was not only shaking but surprised that he was taking this much trouble to put me on heat when he already had me helpless. But he was and I was. The only real trouble was that the helmet was on the wrong person – I could hardly find the breath to encourage him underneath it, and he must have needed it badly as I pinned his ears back with my thighs. Big licks, slow licks, fast licks, quick licks and all artfully crafted licks, with an occasional halt while he took off my sandals, the flying suit, and then my panties. Each pause left me seething with impatience for him to start again. Another pause then, as he used his fingers to make sure I was properly on the boil after being the well nibbled entree.

“I’ve got you where I want you now, you big titted bitch,” Brett gloated as he worked me, the table creaking underneath my spine. I wondered if I was the heaviest girl that had ever been laid on top of it and whether it was going to collapse when Brett started fucking me.

“Now I think we’ll take that helmet off so I can watch your face while I’m sticking my cock into this mincing machine yours.” His fingers were doing the mincing, churning around inside my inner muscles as I began to go crazy. “But we have to go by the rules here, so there’s one little job left to do.”

He seemed to more self control than I did. Probably because he was older. I didn’t care what rules he was talking about. Not until I felt a tingle from a length of thin metal links thrown over my stomach.

“Before you ask, sweetie, I’ll explain what I’m doing. There’s a length of fine chain looped around the table top with a small padlock securing it. I’ve undone the padlock and now I’m going to refasten the chain again, around the table and around your middle. There’s no way you’d ever got hips or tits like yours past it, so you’ll stay on top of the table until I undo the padlock. But I will leave it slack enough so you can turn over, or crawl up to the end of the table to give me a blow job.”

His entire hand seemed to be inside me now.

“I think they’re satisfactory arrangements, don’t you, miss big tits? Because there’s no way you’re ever getting off this table until I decide to let you off it.”

“God, yes, anything you want, Brett, anything you want.”

He didn’t answer. I tried to look around and saw nothing, though I heard movement. I guessed that Brett was taking off his flying suit. Afterwards he put his fingers underneath my neck and undid the knot behind the hood. It seemed to take a long time before it came loose. It seemed to take even longer for him to snap open the chin strap and to ease the helmet off. The light was dazzling and the rough material of the mattress was scratchy against against the back of my head. Above me the canvas was flapping gently.

“Well, hello, Nurse Pearson.”

I screamed in shock as hands grabbed my wrists and elbows. There were men, naked men, all around the table. But the only one I had eyes for was the one between my held out legs, the swarthy man with black hair all over his body who was carefully sheathing his cock inside me as if he was slipping into a hot bath.

“Doctor Gottlieb,” I whimpered. Only the most detestable medical man I’d ever met, the one with the ugly cow of a wife who was always trying to make up for his miserable marriage by trying to chat up the nurses. I despised the ugly creep and now he was fucking me in front of an audience!

“And the doctor is in!” He jammed everything he had into me and I gasped. The bastard had more to him than I’d ever expected, but when it came to bastards. . .”Brett!”

He was at the end of the table, looking down and laughing. “Don’t worry, Sandra, I’m next. But when I called all the guys up on the radio and told them I was going up to the tower with a red hot nurse one of my mates said he had a passenger who was a doctor at the Kilkenny hospital. We thought it might be a good gag to have you meet like this – the Doc was all for it, especially when he found out who you were. Of course I didn’t let you see the parked up trikes when we landed but you’ll get to meet all the guys pretty soon. You’re our Christmas box.”

Two of the guys had already grabbed hold of my tits, as a convenient way of encouraging me to rub their cocks for them. Two more of them were holding my legs as Gottlieb ploughed away between them and I writhed away under his increasing weight as he spread himself on top of me. Never, never, never would he allow me to forget this and all the other things he was to going to see. And they’d all been standing there with their hands over their mouths, nearly bursting with laughter as I’d shaken my tits for Brett and let him strip and lick me. If it had been his tongue! I burned in anger, and in fear at the thought of Jeff finding out about this.

“Brett, you fucking bastard!”

“Sorry, Sandra, but that’s not really my name. I’m really Monthy Python, the pilot with the big cock, and this is my flying circus. . . .”

He had a can of coke in his hand, he held it up. “Can’t drink when I’m flying, but a Christmas toast everyone. Here’s to a happy time stuffing our Christmas turkey.” The men guys cheered and whooped in encouragement. “And God bless us all, everyone. . .” Brett leaned forward, watching what Gottlieb was doing with a sardonic smile on his face “. . . even Tiny Tim!”