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by Julius © 2010
“I’m not what everyone expected am I?”
He had no diplomatic answer for that one. They sat in the truck waiting for the last flight to arrive. It was dark with perhaps a hint of the long-set sun on the western horizon.
“No, not quite.”
“No doubt I was to have blonde hair, long legs and big boobs?”
“Well I think everyone had different ideas,” he said, wishing they could change the subject.
Jill had been a bit of a disappointment. Shorter and wider than ideal, hair that was cropped quite short and she wore nary a trace of makeup. Perhaps nobody had been really surprised when she arrived. After all, what really attractive woman would willingly take a job that would break her nails, ruin her skin, weather her complexion and deny her any real social life. Not to mention the fact that she’d be stuck with a crew of grumpy, cynical, foul-mouthed old men.
But, she did have interesting bumps in the front of her coveralls.
The foreman had teamed the two of them up. His excuse had been that Jack and Jill belonged together. Jack wasn’t so sure, but as his regular workmate had just retired he supposed it was a natural enough choice.
Not that it was all bad. Jill knew more about computers and electronics than the rest of the crew put together. The latest Boeings and the Airbuses were loaded with computers and new gizmos and everything had an acronym instead of a proper name. A new generation of planes didn’t sit well with an older generation of mechanics no matter how many of them were sent on how many courses. It was a case unteachable old dogs Jack supposed.
And she did have those interesting bumps.
“You’ll just have to pretend I’m a real mechanic,” she said.
“Oh you’ve proved that already.” She had too, seeming to have the knack of managing the heaviest of items, even wheels that weighed twice as much as her. More importantly, she’d been a blessing when it came to the newfangled aviation that threatened to swamp them all. All except Jill that was. She’d listen to an electronics snag from the flight crew and always seemed to know what to do to affect a fix.
“Married?” she asked.
“Very,” he replied. Very indeed he thought. Thirty some years, thirty-three, he was almost sure.
“With marriage? It’s been a long one.”
“You sound like my dad. Trouble with him I think, is, he isn’t getting any.”
“I know how he feels,” Jack said without thinking.
Jill gave a little chuckle. “Do men ever think of anything else?”
“Sad isn’t it?”
“Sad yes, but natural enough.”
A breeze blew through the cab. The wicked heat of day was finally easing a little. Jack wanted to unzip the front of his coveralls. He wore nothing under them. He never did in weather like this.
“God it’s hot,” she said.
Jack grunted an affirmative.
The sound of a long slow unzipping surprised him. She must have read his mind he thought.
A sigh followed. “That feels good.”
“What possessed you to become a mechanic?”
She was quiet for a moment. “My dad was a mechanic in Toronto. When my husband walked out I applied for a course at the Community College. Then I worked for a couple of small outfits and finally applied to the airline.” She paused and added, “and here I am.”
Glad to be off the subjects of her looks and his marriage he leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Do older guys really still get the urges or is it all macho stuff?”
Jack sighed. He did like her so what the hell, tell her what she wanted to know.
“Yes we do. The chemistry still works,” he said and added, with a chuckle, “and the hydraulics”
“Hydraulics, my favourite subject in trade school.”
“What, male hydraulics?”
“No silly, aircraft hydraulics. But male hydraulics are fun too.”
They were silent for a while. The radio clicked and Sandy’s voice from the hangar told them that flight 619 would be half an hour late.
“Well then,” Jill said, “you can tell me all about those male hydraulics.”
Jack wasn’t sure about this. It was strange enough having a female workmate without having to talk about sex with her.
“So if you’re not getting enough what do you do?”
He felt himself blushing furiously in the dark of the cab.
“My dad takes care of it himself,” she paused and went on, “he’s got a pile of porno tapes. You can learn a lot from those tapes.”
“I’m sure you can,” he said, thinking about the ones he had and promising himself to take care of himself when he got home.”
“Ever had a blow job?”
Jack looked sharply across at her silhouetted profile. “What sort of question is that?”
“The sort of question you ask if you want to know the answer.”
“OK. Yes of course I have,” he replied. In fact he had had one, just one, many years ago. Jenny had tried and she’d freaked when he’d come. “Can we change the subject?”
“I’ll admit I’ve never given one.”
Jack wondered what she’d say if he asked her if she like to try. He realised his cock had stirred itself into a half erection.
She giggled. “I shouldn’t tease you.”
“It’s alright. Having a girl mechanic as a partner is all new to me and we are a generation apart.”
Silence reigned in the truck for a while. He heard her take a deep breath and she half turned towards him.
“After my husband left I told myself I was done with guys. Four years later here I am, all alone. So we’re not that different you and me. Needful souls are we.”
Jack wasn’t sure what she meant by ‘needful souls’. He could see her unzipped coveralls had opened and he could see the swell of her right breast and the small, dark shadow of her navel.
“What do you say Jack? Shall I give you the benefit of my first ever blow job!”
He was speechless. Was she serious?
“If I was drop-dead gorgeous and all legs and tits would you say yes? You never know, plain-Jane Jill might be quite good at it.”
“I ,” he began.
Her giggle came again. “It would be on company time remember,” she said softly.
His cock was hard between his belly and the fabric of his coveralls. He wished he could stroke it. He wished he were home with a tape playing, a beer at his elbow and Jenny sound asleep upstairs.
Jill scrambled up and knelt on the bench seat facing him. There was a pale strip of her between the open halves of her coveralls. He thought about getting out of the truck or perhaps driving it up to the hangar. Jack was in uncharted territory and he felt lost.
“I’d expect payment,” she said.
“Well, you’d have to pay in kind. You know, go down on me? That’s only fair.”
“You mean?” He thought the unthinkable. Jenny would have gone ballistic if he’d even mentioned it. Yet it always looked great in his movies. The women went crazy and the guys seemed happy to perform the act. He wondered what it would be like. This strange young creature in the truck with him. His cock ached, it really ached.
“Well all you have to do is unzip. They were saying you guys wore nothing under there in the summer.”
Jack glanced at her nervously. His eyes were drawn to the open coveralls.
“I’m not really ugly am I?” she pulled the coveralls open.
Her breasts were lovely. Not big, but not small either. Perfect hemispheres the size of grapefruit. The surrounds to her nipples were big and very dark against the pale of her flesh. Jack swallowed audibly.
“Not ugly at all. How could you say such a thing?”
“Oh I scrub up quite nice. Put on a bit of make up and presto.”
He tried not to stare at her breasts but it wasn’t easy.
“Are you going to unzip or would you like me to help?”
Her hand reached out and found the tag of his zipper. She began to slide it down.
Zippers and cocks don’t go well together in any man’s mind. He caught her hand and lifted it gently away and ran his zipper all the way down.
She had his cock out in a moment “Oh my, isn’t he splendid?”
The feel of her hand! He gasped and heard himself say, “Oh yes!”
Her head went down and he felt the soft heat of her mouth close over his cock head. Her hand was on the shaft.
“That feels so good,” he told her. Amazingly he felt tears prickle his eyelids. How long since there’s been anything like this in his life?
In the distance he saw an aircraft’s landing lights go on. Their flight was coming.
Her professed ignorance didn’t matter; he was no expert after all. It felt amazing, the suction, the lips, the massaging tongue. She was sucking his cock. Her hand slipped from his shaft and began to play gently with his balls.
“Oh god!” he said and he kept on saying it. He began to thrust up into her mouth and she gagged as he hit the back of her throat. She lifted her head a little to give him room and kept on bobbing her mouth up and down him, her tongue working its own magic.
He suddenly realised he was going to come, soon, very soon. The fierce heat, the uncoiling sensation behind his balls.
“Let it happen Jack,” he heard her say, then her mouth was back on him, sucking pulling. Her hand was back on his shaft. She was getting noisy now, making wonderful slurping noises, just like on his movies.
The Airbus taxied by. Light flooded over the truck for a few moments and Jack’s body went rigid. He came. She jerked her head away and he spurted up over his stomach. Once, twice, then a succession of drooling pulses.
He leaned back in the truck. He felt as weak as a kitten, he felt wonderful. She was playing with her fingers in the come on his belly. He watched as she put a finger to her mouth. She said, almost to herself, “I’ll try to swallow next time.”
Jack turned to look at her. In his head he said, ‘Next time.’ Aloud he said, “That was wonderful.”
“I enjoyed it too Jack. But it’s going to cost you.” She slid her hand, the one that had played with his come, down inside her coveralls. “It’ll cost you.”
“I’ll pay,” he murmured.
“Let’s go look after our plane.” She zipped up and scrambled out of the truck.
“Wow,” said Jack to himself. His come was suddenly chill on his skin. He wondered what Jill’s pussy would be like. Miraculously his cock stirred. He got out of the truck and followed her on legs that were still inclined to tremble.
Jack drove into the parking lot the following afternoon. Jill was already there, he could see her battered little Civic, he parked next to it.
The weather hadn’t changed. It was still hot and humid with a brilliant sun in a cloudless blue sky. Again he swore his next car would have air conditioning.
“Howdy pardner,” Jill greeted him as he got into the truck.
“Another sweaty one,” he said.
Their toolboxes were on the back of the truck. Jill was behind the wheel with a mug of coffee in her hand; one for him was on the dash. She had the happy knack of always being ready.
She started the truck, drove across the empty hangar and out of the wide-open doors. Another afternoon shift had begun. He stomach did a flip-flop as he remembered her words of the night before, ‘It’ll cost you.’
Her meaning had been perfectly clear. Jack had never gone down on a woman. Jenny had made it plain enough that she wasn’t having any of that perverted stuff. What a pity she’d not made the rules clear before they’d married.
If only the humidity would go. The air coming in through the truck windows seemed almost fluid. You could drown, just breathing.
Day shift had left them a wheel change to do on a DC9. At least the other guys’d made a start. The aircraft was jacked, tyre deflated and a new wheel on the dolly ready to go on.
The aircraft was parked at the far end of the ramp, far from the public eye. Jill stood looking at the job, no doubt as unenthusiastic as he. She slid the zipper of her coveralls down to her waist and he caught the white gleam of her bra. She must have sensed his disappointment.
“Rough denim and nipples don’t get along.”
He knew what she meant; he’d gone without underwear himself the day before. The tip of his cock had chaffed. It had done it before, he should have known better, but it did feel so good to let it all swing free in that kind of weather. So it was boxers today.
“Ready?” he asked.
He got his tools and set about removing hubcap and wheel nut.
He heard her zipper again and glanced up and gave a little groan. Her zipper was all the way down and she was pantyless. The brown curls of her bush were maybe two feet from his nose. He swallowed and looked up at her face. She met his gaze and grinned; seemingly unaware that anything was out of the ordinary.
His brain had registered the details though and had sent the appropriate messages. His cock reared in his boxers. A second memorable shift had begun it seemed.
Wheel changed, paperwork done, they set off for the hangar with the wheel-change cart in tow. The evening’s rush hour would begin soon with flights arriving one after the other.
“Just time for wash-up and tea?”
“Almost,” He gestured. A 767 was inbound a couple of miles out, lights on, gear down, “the overseas is early again.”
Back on the ramp it was like an oven. He could feel the black tarmac’s heat glowing through the soles of his boots. The air was thick with the reek of jet exhaust. Jack did the walk-around praying he’d find no cut tyres or leaking fluids. God bless Boeing, their ‘67s usually came and went like Greyhound buses.
He saw Jill coming down the steps off the bridge and they headed for the truck. Her hands were full, always good galley loot off the overseas from London. They drove to end of the ramp and sat in mouth-filled silence, consuming grapes and chocolate cake.
It was midsummer, the light was late fading, even so it seemed the heat would never diminish. Jack went up the steps onto the bridge for a little cooling off. On the plane it was wonderfully cool and empty. This was one of the overnight aircraft. Jill was sitting in first class, log books in her lap. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling. She opened one eye and smiled up at him.
“Soon be payback time,” she said in a husky whisper and her lips formed a kiss. Jack thought he’d never seen a woman look more sweetly wicked. Her coveralls were unzipped and a line of bare flesh stretched from her throat, between her breasts, past her exposed belly button to the edge of the logbooks. She had a deep, deep inner he noted; he liked that.
“They never gave a thought to girls wearing these things,” she said, touching her coveralls. Imagine, struggling out of these every time you need a pee.”
She got to her feet and handed him the logbooks.
“So, I took the zipper out, slit them right down past the crotch and put the zipper back in.”
“Very clever,” he said. He was busy imagining her squatting in just her bra, with the coveralls round her ankles.
“’Course they don‘t zip up the neck any more but at least I can take a pee in a hurry.“ She grinned at him. “Never gave a thought to how handy it would be for Jack to get at Jill.”
His brain sent out its signals and his face and cock each received rush of blood.
“So, shall we tow this to the hanger?”
Jack slapped the tractor’s horn button; Jill flashed the 9’s nose lights. He squirmed round in the seat to look behind and began pushing back.
Not many feet above and behind him Jill’s feet would be on the rudder pedals and her thighs would be parted. He pictured her furry puss in front of his face a couple of hours ago. He had a rigid cock for the whole tow.
By the time Sandy had given them a lift back down to the ramp, two more aircraft had arrived. One was going through, the other was another overnighter.
Walk-rounds done, oils checked and a few minor snags fixed saw the clock move round nearly an hour.
They watched the Torbay flight being pushed back.
“Let’s take a break eh? The sweat’s trickling down my back” Jill said and put the truck in drive and headed for the end of the ramp.
Jack sat; eyes closed, and imagined Jill’s sweat trickling down her back and into the cleft of her ass.
She parked and got out. Jack felt the truck move as she climbed on the back.
“Come on out and look at this,” he heard her call.
He got out and went round the back. There wasn’t enough light to see properly and he climbed up onto the back of the truck. She was lying on her back on the platform over the cab. Her feet rested on the top step of the short access ladder. Jack took two steps towards the foot of it.
He could hardly believe it. She lay with her coveralls open. She was, in effect, naked. He could see the twin swells of her breasts and a couple of feet away, the shock of curls that adorned her mound. The coveralls did indeed give him access.
“Well?” she said, “now it’s really payback time.”
Jack had spent twenty-four hours of mixed emotions leading up to this moment. Half wanting so badly to do it and half dreading his own lack experience.
He moved closer, closer still until the denim covering her thighs was brushing his ears.
Then he smelled her. They’d spent almost a whole shift in heat and humidity. To his utter amazement, she smelled wonderful. He had no words for it. Hot honey came to mind but really she just smelled of warmth and sweat and something. Musky, it was an idea not a scent. His cock reared and he wanted her with a sudden desperation that seemed to hammer inside him.
He leaned close and let his nose touch her pubic hair. He heard her murmur and she moved her hips, which moved those curls under his nose.
He was an expert from all his porn watching; he was a novice, nay, even a virgin of sorts.
Then it all seemed to come naturally. He pressed his mouth between her parted lips. She was soft, she was warm, she was wet.
Jack knew all about clits and vulvas and pee-holes. He’d never explored before, not properly, not in this place.
From far away came Jill’s voice, guiding, encouraging, coaxing. That voice got more excited, more breathless and finally stopped altogether.
He loved it. She tasted wonderful, if she had a flavour at all. She smelled wonderful, like fallen leaves, like honey? He decided she smelled like Jill.
He knew to bite and kiss and lick and to leave the titbit that was her clit until last.
His cock was an iron bar that stood straight up his belly inside his boxers. But for the time, just being having his face between Jill’s legs was enough. She was loving it and he was loving loving her. Her springy pussy curls, her soft creaminess, he was in heaven.
Then, to his amazed joy, she was coming and telling him and the breeze that swept airport. She bucked, her pubic bone jarring against his nose. She writhed and struggled under his face. She seemed to get suddenly wetter. Jill was coming! Jack buried his mouth and nose in her and rode out the storm until she was begging him to stop.
He stood and looked down at her, intensely proud of what he’d wrought. Her chest and lovely breasts heaved and her head rolled slowly from side to side. She brought a hand down, cupped herself and clamped her thighs around the curled fingers.
The moments slipped by and then, her thighs opened slowly, wider and wider. Her hand released her.
“Now finish the job Jack, climb up and finish it.”
Not able to believe what she asked Jack climbed up the ladder’s first two treads. He ran his zipper down its last foot and awkwardly pushed his boxers down inside his coveralls. The cool air on his hot cock was wonderful. That cock was perfectly positioned opposite the luscious pussy he’d just tried to devour.
It was the most natural thing to slide his hardness into her heat and he did.
Her, “Oh - dear - fucking - god!” somehow matched what he felt. She was so tight, so hot, so slick.
She’d drained him the night before but it didn’t seem to matter. He was close to coming in ten strokes. He paused, willing himself to be still, to hold off if he could.
“No Jack, no!” she begged, “just let go, just fuck me.”
Her fingers grabbed his coveralls and she pulled at him, helping him bury himself deep again.
He thrust, once, twice, thrice and came. For the first time in his life Jack had fucked a woman who really wanted fucking. His heart seemed to swell in his chest.
He emptied himself into her, sobbing and struggling.
Her ankles were locked behind him as her pussy milked him.
In the darkness a 727 taxied in, turned and rocked the truck with its exhaust.
© 2010 Julius. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Bio: Julius? A smut writer since my teens. I wonder, what were those stories were like; the ones written by a virgin, male teenager? An Englishman by birth but now a long-time Canadian and quietly proud of both. Why write smut? Well, sex is lovely isn't it? Women are wonderful aren't they? Writing about "it" and "them" seems natural somehow. THE ACT and the delicious frolicking and foreplay that lead to it are surely the stuff of stories. So I write about it. If my audience 'gets off' on what I write? Wonderful - that's what it's for! That is praise indeed. So, this tall, bearded, bald, old guy writes erotic tales when he's not building his model railway. More Julian wickedness at: http://eroticklyours.blogspot.com
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