Ruby and Gabe

24 August 2018

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Tim Buchanan

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Let's celebrate!

We got back to plans, big plans for Ruby and Gabe's party. It was really a late party for their last birthday, so Ruby was still 8 and Gabe was still 10. 3rd grade and 5th grade. They'd decided to invite the whole grade, which was about 150 kids. Each. So 300 kids and their parents. Honestly, no big whoop, but it did require planning. We wouldn't be doing carts or waverunners, as they were too young, but we could do boat rides and helicopter rides. Lots of swimming, of course. We'd let them do short saunas and steams, but were assigning an adult to check them in and out. Short saunas. Short steams.

Jackson had been smart in the RSVP and had asked if parents were staying. This big a party, he needed to know. The word must have gotten out about the cheer/swim party, because just about every parent was staying. 300 + (2 * 300) and suddenly we had a party of close to 900 people. That changed the dynamics a bit, although the only major change is Jackson arranged for more helicopters and made sure they were still good for sightseeing, but bigger. We'd never done a 900 person party, but Jackson and Sofia were not worried. I was assigned my role early on. Nothing. I had no role. Not even burger cook. Too many people, so they brought in the pros. I wasn't good enough to flip a burger.

So, they made me the greeter. If I only had a WalMart vest. As it turned out, it was a fucking awesome job. The outfits of the day were skimpy speedos on the boys and teeny tiny bikinis on the girls. Both the 8 year olds and the 10 year olds. I am afraid I did spend much of my greeter time hard, but luckily was in loose shorts, but they did tend to tent out. It didn't help that most of the parents were late 20s/early 30s, as most of them were, well, fuckable too. Surely we'd make a few more friends out of this day, right?

Time for the next family. They walked up and appeared to have a 5th grade girl and a 3rd grade boy. A two-fer, so to speak. The Mom stuck out her hand.

"Hi, I'm Beth," she said. "You must be Bob. We understand you and your wife Amy are our hosts for the day. Thank so much. This is my husband Topher, our daughter Meg, and our son Drew."

Damn, they were all cute. Suddenly, Beth reached down and squeezed my cock. In full view of her family. The kids smiled. So did Topher.

"We understand we have a mutual friend. Masako was my college roommate. She says your family is a ton of fun," said Beth. Well, given you're holding my cock in your hand, I'd say yours is too. She quickly let go, as another car pulled up.

"That's so nice to hear," I said. "Perhaps later, I could give your family a special tour of our home."

"Oh, we LOVE special tours," said Beth. "Perhaps some of your family could assist in the tour. Maybe even the guests of honor." Oh yeah, they'd be up for it. Ruby's skills. Oh.

My greeter job was a lot more fun now, but my shorts were pretty obviously tenting. Most people tried to ignore it, and at least one Mom gave me a dirty look. What was I supposed to do? It sure wasn't her that did it to me.

About 20 minutes later, another attractive family walked up, again with a boy and girl, but switched. The boy was older, and the daughter younger. She couldn't be a 3rd grader though. They were Hispanic and a gorgeous family. This time the Dad stuck out his hand.

"Hi, I'm Christian," he said. "Are you Bob by chance?" I assured him I was.

"Oh that's great. Jamie said to say hi," said Christian. Oh good.

"This is my wife Gabrielle," he said. "And our kids Cisco and Gabby. We hope you don't mind that we brought Gabby. She's only 6, but should fit right in. Our babysitter fell through."

"Of course," I said. "The more the merrier." Damn, are you kidding. She had a mean camel toe going and one nipple completely showing. She motioned for me to lean down.

"I am really good at sucking cock," said Gabby. I think this time I swooned. "Can I suck your cock?"

"Sure you can," I said. "Perhaps I could return the favor for your brother and father." They both grinned and nodded. "I have some things I could do for your Mom too." That got another grin.

"Find me later," I said. "I can invite others to join us for a special tour. A really special tour."

Damn, two families. Could I handle it? Turns out I had spoken too soon. The next family up were interesting, and had two boys, one from each grade I would guess. The Dad was white and the Mom black and the boys mixed. Fuck yeah.

"Hi, I'm Jill, and this is my husband John," she said. "You're Bob?" I assured her I was. As I said it, she very obviously looked down at my cock, and gave me a smile.

"Lance and Linda said to say hi," said Jill. "Our families are very best friends. They can't speak highly enough of your entire family, in so many ways." Oh my.

"Oh, I am remiss in my introductions," she added. "This is Curtis and this is Max." Both boys very formally shook my hand. After he did, Max let his hand drop and 'accidentally' rubbed my cock. I think I let out a little moan, because Jill and John both laughed.

"Oh, he has many skills," said John. "Many." Take me now, please. They wandered into the party. I didn't even suggest a tour. A third one would kill me. The crowd arriving was winding down and I was about to head inside when one last car pulled up. An Asian family got out of the car. They were all incredibly attractive. I laughed to myself and thought that if this family was in play, I'd have a nice breadth of choices. They looked a little harried. They had two kids that looked to be twins of Ruby's age.

"Hi, my name is Craig and this is my wife Mia," he said. "And these are our daughters Tara and Kara. They've been friends with Ruby since pre-K. They've learned so much from Ruby and brought it home to share with us. So much." Was I reading that right?

"I think you understand my meaning, don't you Bob?," said Craig. Well now I did. Damn. I wanted those girls badly. They were both wearing what looked to be last year's one-piece bathing suits. They were pulled into their crotch, showing more than even a camel toe normally shows. They were stretched at the top too, and both girls were showing just a little bit of their nipples. A nip slip if you were.

"Cute little things, aren't they," said Mia. "Perhaps before we join the party, you'd like to give the girls a special tour? Ruby says the tours are very, very special. We'll head on in. You can just take the girls." With that, they walked away. They just walked away. Not to pass up and opportunity, I took each girl by the hand and headed into the house and turned towards our bedroom. We walked in to find Amy in bed, being absolutely pounded by Max. 7 year old Max. Cisco's cock was in her mouth. Little Gabby was sitting next to her and Amy had a finger buried in her. Deep in her. It was quite a sight.

"Oh goody," said Tara. Or maybe it was Kara. "More friends. With that, they both stripped off and turned and pulled down my shorts. They led me to the bed and had me laid down next to Amy. One of them took me in her mouth. The other sat on my face. In that last second while I could still see, I saw Cisco move around and start fucking the girl that was sucking me. Doggy style.

I licked and sucked and the girl on my face started moaning. Suddenly everyone shifted around. The girl on my face moved over to sitting on Amy's face. The girl sucking me climbed up and lowered herself onto my cock. God she was tight. That left Cisco hanging, so he did the only thing he could -- he shifted up and offered me his cock. For a 10 year old, he had a nice 5 inch cock. I could taste the girl on her (Tara? Kara?) and it was nice and tangy. He must have been close, because he came, hard, in my mouth. A lot of cum for a 10 year old. He immediately leaned down and kissed me. What a kiss! I pushed his cum back into his mouth. Did he swallow? No! He turned and pushed it into the mouth of the girl bouncing on me. The sight was too much and I came inside her. She rolled off and Cisco immediately started licking and sucking my cum out. This load went to Amy.

Fuck I was wiped out.

We finally worked out way back out to the party. The grills were fired up and a ton of kids were in the pool. Amy and I walked out together. Wait, what? Not a girl in the pool had a top on. I guess I could get the 8 year olds -- not much to show -- but some of the 10 year old girls were pretty developed. The parents were all standing around, not a care in the world. Interesting. Well, not quite accurate. I'd say about half of the Dad's were visibly hard. I understood this at one of our 'special' parties, but the entire fifth grade? Roll with it, I guess.

I looked over to the entrance to the sauna, and saw several kids coming out. Oh they were flushed, but not because of the steam. Some 10, some 8. Was there an orgy in the sauna? I wandered that way and went into the sauna. Someone had turned it down, so it wasn't too warm. The benches were filled with parents -- Moms and Dads -- who were the audience for the show. The kids had spread towels on the floor. One small girl was naked. Clearly an 8 year old. She was on her knees and two 10 year old boys were pumping their cocks in and out of her mouth. Just as I sat down one of the boys pulled out and covered both her face and the other boy's cock with his cum. He immediately dropped down and started licking his cum off the little girl's face. The remaining boy pivoted and slid his cock in the mouth of the first boy, just as he came. He couldn't hold it all, as some dripped out, but then he turned and pushed the cum into the mouth of the 8 year old! Where did they even learn all this?

That was just one show. On another towel, a younger boy was pounding away at an older girl, doggy style. Lying below the girl was another older girl and she was licking and sucking her with abandon. The girl getting licked clearly went over the top just as the boy made the cum face. They all pulled apart. All the kids got dressed at that point and wandered off and all the adults got up. We walked out and to my surprise everyone in the pool was fully dressed.

Did I just hallucinate everything? Maybe.

How civil

Leslie here. I know this is a complete left turn from the party, but hey, it's our lives. The party was great fun and we made new friends. They were all fun, but Cisco had some serious skills and Gabby. Oh Gabby. Yeah, those stories will come later.

So, on to my story. It is quite unbelievable, even to me. You'll see. As it turns out, joining the Civil Air Patrol has been great fun. I've tried to keep a fairly low profile, but did use the loophole to certify in helicopter. Yay! Our planes are Cessna 182s, that I can fly in my sleep, but I like the other kids and the head of our small group quickly figured out I am a good pilot and let's me help some of the newer pilots. He has no clue what I can fly, but that's OK. I did tell the kids that fly with me that they can put it in their logbooks as instructor assisted time, and I sign their logbooks, but I asked them not to tell. Yeah, well that didn't last. Somebody squealed. I got called to the Commandant's office and he was hot.

He had the newest kid's logbook opened to a page I had signed. He started yelling before asking any questions. While he was yelling, I pulled out my wallet and very gently put my instructor card on the logbook. It's a picture ID, so he'd be able to see it was really me. It took him awhile to wind down, as he just kept yelling. I'd stopped listening, so I had no idea what he said. Finally, he reached down for the logbook to make his final point and saw my ID. He picked it up, looked at the picture, looked at me, back and forth three or for times.

"This is not possible," he said. "Not possible."

I just shrugged my shoulders.

"This says you are an instructor in single engine, multi-engine, and jets. Jets!", he said. "No fucking way. You're fucking 11. You can't be certified, let alone an instructor."

I reached back into my wallet and pulled out my pilot's license. It listed my ratings and the specific models of jets in which I am certified. You know, most of the Cessna lineup, and now most of the Boeing lineup. Last time I took the 747 to Seattle for service, Bill had run me through a bunch of certifications. The 777 and 787 were probably throwing him, given they're the latest models. Of course, the 747 certification was special too. Oh, and I went through the training and certification for a G650, but we haven't bought one.

"This can't be right," he said. Denial is strong in this one. Finally I waved him to come with me, and walked out of his office, down the hall, and out onto the tarmac. From the front of their building, the biggest thing in sight was our 747.

I pointed at it. "Want me to take you for a ride?," I said. "That's mine."

He clearly still didn't believe me. So I started walking. Towards the plane. I give him credit, he followed me. I walked under the plane into the hanger and waved at Tom. I grabbed the remote for the ramp, and turned around. He was still with me. I pressed the button and the ramp lowered. I walked around the plane and did the pre-flight. Then I walked on board, up the ramp, with him still following. Not sure why, but there was a Porsche 911 Turbo strapped into the hold. I walked to the elevator and waved him in and got in. Once we got upstairs, I walked through the living room, into the cockpit and sat in the captain's seat and waved him into the co-pilot's seat. I again give him credit, he sat.

I pulled out the checklist and handed it to him. He ran the checklist with me. Finally we were ready for engine start and I lit them up. I put on my headset and waved for him to do the same.

"Tower, this is 747 Heavy requesting taxi and takeoff," I said.

"Request approved. You're first in line, so taxi to 22R and proceed to take off," said the tower. "Have fun Leslie." Well, they know me pretty well. By this point, he was just staring at me.

"The view is better out the windscreen," I said. By then we were at the runway, so I set the brakes and ran the engines up. I released the brakes and we rolled down the runway, and I rotated us into the air. I asked the tower for clearance over the Gulf, VFR at 15, which means 15,000. It's the perfect ride, as it isn't in any major route, is too low for the jets and too high for the prop planes. We could just fly around for awhile. But the again, I was hungry and it was about 11.

"I'm getting hungry," I said. "There's a great little restaurant a short distance from the Pensacola airport. Only 30 minutes away. My treat. You in? We can take the Porsche."

He just looked at me, confused as hell, and nodded. It was a short flight, and it was one of my best landings. I taxied to the FBO. I knew it as I liked this ride. Usually I took an Uber, but I was making a point. It's not like I can drive a car. That wouldn't be safe! I found the keys and had him get in the Porsche. I did the quick release. They're truly cool and simple. I hopped into the passenger seat and told him to back down the ramp. He did it without comment. I closed the ramp with the remote and gave him directions to the restaurant. I'll bet we hadn't said 10 words.

Once we got seated and ordered, he clearly had a ton of questions. That was fine. That was the point.

"OK, listen," I said. "None of what just happened is remotely believable." I gave him the short G rated version of the entire story. He laughed at the right points and loosened up considerably. Oh, he finally believed me. After all, I had just flown him here in a 747.

Finally he asked for a second and pulled out his phone.

"Dave," he said. "You still have the F22 Trainer? Yeah, great. Can you take an experienced pilot on a check ride? Maybe let them fly front seat. Yeah, jet instructor. Certified in most Boeings. Yep, yep. How about this afternoon? Can you get approval for us to land there? Sure. Just a sec."

"What are the tail numbers?," he asked. I told him and he shared with the person on the phone.

"OK, you done? We have somewhere to go," he said. I didn't know exactly what, but I heard F22 and that sounded like a hell of a lot of fun. We drove back to the plane and locked down the Porsche and went up the elevator to the cockpit. Interesting. He stood WAY too close this time and was clearly hard. Well, he is damn good looking for mid-50s.

Before we took off, he told me we were flying directly to MacDill Air Force base in Tampa. I looked up the coordinates and put it in the system. I also filed a flight plan, as it was required to fly into restricted space. We had to have approval before we took off. We got it almost immediately and I asked the tower for clearance. This was Pensacola, so it happened fast. It's a short run to Tampa, so before long I tuned to the MacDill tower.

"MacDill tower, this is 747 Heavy requesting permission to land," I said. I rattled off our tail numbers.

"Did you say 747 Heavy?," came the response.

"Affirmative. Requesting permssion to land," I said.

"Approved. Line up for 115L," came the reply. "Pull off on the first available exit and wait for escort."

I landed and made the second turn off and held. I think that confused them, as I saw a pickup running towards us from much farther up the runway. He pulled in front of us, and I saw the word ESCORT in giant letters. We followed him to a hanger and I shut it down. We went down the elevator and, yep, still hard. I dropped the ramp and we walked down. Just as we stepped off, an officer approached. Damn, he had three stars on his collar. I'm not in the military, but I felt like I should salute or something. Oliver (I found out his name was Oliver), the CAP commandant DID salute and then held out his hand.

"Damn good to see you General," said Oliver.

"Now stop that Ollie," said the General. "You know damn well I am just Dave. Now where's this hot shot commercial instructor you want us to take up."

"Let me introduce you to my star student," said Ollie, introducing me. I shook his hand.

"Well it is a pleasure to meet you Leslie," said Dave. "But seriously Ollie, where's the pilot of this bird."

"You just met her Dave," said Ollie. "She's the owner and pilot of this bird. She's also certified on damn near every other Boeing. She's also a jet instructor and helicopter certified too."

Dave started laughing. "Yeah, and I'll bet there's a nice Porsche in the hold too", still laughing. Now that was just mean, so I waved him up the ramp, which was still down. He walked up just far enough to see the Porsche. He turned around and said one word: "Seriously?"

"You got a radio to your tower?," said Ollie. Dave pulled out a handheld radio. "Ask them who landed this plane." He got on the radio and asked.

"Sir, that was Leslie," they said. "We all know about Leslie." He looked at me in shock, and I just handed him my instructor card and my license. He finally started laughing.

"Damn," said Dave. "You are an impressive young woman. And I just recognized you. You won the Oscar for the Spielberg movie, didn't you. Best actress." I just nodded, and now it was Ollie's turn to stare.

"Ok, let's go," said Dave, and pointed us to an Army green golf cart. Ollie pointed to the front and climbed in the back. Yeah, I rode with the General and we drove across the entire field and pulled up to the most graceful plane I'd ever seen.

"The only two seat F22 Raptor ever built," said Dave. "And you're going up in it Leslie."

Just then a man in a flight suit walked around the plane. He walked up and asked when the pilot was going to be here. We did the same 'it can't be you dance'. I found out he was Frank, and the instructor. He was a full Colonel. I'm used to it. Finally they took me inside and found a flight suit that would fit. They're full compression suits, and I'm a little short. We climbed into the plane and they let me fly front seat. Wow. The avionics were all familiar, given the number of jets I can fly. I didn't know how to launch a missle, but didn't plan on that today. The canopy closed and we were ready to take off.

"OK, Leslie, the aircraft is yours," said Frank. I know he was yanking my chain, but I asked him the questions I needed to be safe. He answered, clearly surprised by the questions. Fuck him. I had him run the checklist. He told me our call sign was just 'Trainer' today and the channel. I knew it, dickface, I just landed here. OK, I just thought that.

"Tower, this is trainer, requesting taxi and takeoff," I said. "Approved for 115L. Taxi and takeoff. First to take off. Have fun Leslie." Frank was clearly taken back that they called me by name. I heard the little gasp.

I lined us up, took us to full power, and let us roll. I rotated perfectly, pulled into a steep climb and pushed the throttles into afterburner. Hey, nobody said I hadn't read all about the F22. We shot into the sky like a missle, and I pulled the throttles back and leveled off at 15,000 and pointed us over the Gulf. He was clearly pissed, as he asked for control and I gave it to him. He then put us into a double barrel role, than pull out and did a loop. Fuckin' A, that was cool. He gave me the controls back and told me to do it.

So I did, except when I did 2 1/2 rolls and did the loop right side up, and came out inverted. I held us there, flying upside down, and asked him what to do next.

"Turn us the fuck over," he said. So I did. I can take direction.

"Are you fucking nuts?," he said. "An inverted loop? Hell, I've never even done that."

"It's within the design parameters," I said. "It's been done. Just not often." That actually got a laugh out of him.

"OK, let's see how you do in an emergency," he said. He put us in a stall at the word how. I was out of it before he got the word emergency out.

"Damn," he said. "Hot damn. That was impressive as fuck." Well yeah, dude. I'm 11 and an instructor. I'm the shit. We flew around for another half hour and he put us through the inverted loop. His wasn't as smooth as mine and he admitted it. I think I won him over.

We landed and pulled up to the hanger and climbed down. The General almost ran over.

"What the fuck. You did two fucking inverted loops with a civilian on board?," yelled Dave.

"Nope," said Frank.

"What do you mean nope," said Dave. "We fucking saw you do it."

"I mean nope," said Frank. "I did the second one. She did the first one. Hers was better. The fucking Blue Angels couldn't have done it better," he said. I just smiled. The General turned to his aide.

"Get an F35 out here," he said, much to the shock of his aide. "And get Cliff too."

He ran off and not two minutes later a tow truck pulled out an F35. Also a beautiful airplane, but I already knew it wasn't any better than the F22. Lots of controvery about that. Another pilot came out, in his flight suit. I'm guessing that is Cliff.

"OK, Cliff. Simulated dog fight. You're in the F35," he said. Cliff nodded and started to climb up.

"Frank, explain the rules to Leslie, and get your ass in the air," said Dave. "Leslie, you're in command. You're going to dogfight Cliff. It's like a giant game of laser tag. Frank will explain, but you're the Captain. He's only in the plane to pull your ass out of the fire, which I doubt he'll have to do, and because they'd have my job if I let an 11 year old take up my trainer by herself."

Yeah, I'll bet they would. Frank spent 10 minutes explaining the rules of contact. He also went over the limitations of our plane and the weakesses of the F35 which we could exploit. Finally Dave said Go, so we climbed up. They'd topped off our tanks, so we we ready. The plan was to engage 15 miles off shore. Cliff took off first. I took off moments later and was near vertical when the missle tracking alarm went off. Cliff was cheating. I rolled inverted and popped chaff, and oriented towards the threat. I saw him and he was lazy. I rolled up into a semi-loop and forced a stall and a spin. The spin did just that, and left us right on his ass. I quickly launched two sidewinders, simulated of course, and they both flew right up his tail pipe. We'd been off the ground less than 90 seconds and he was toast. We got on the radios and he suggested we could land first.

We pulled up to the hanger and he pulled up moments later. We all climbed down and Cliff was HOT.

"You put a fucking fighter in a stall and a flat spin in a damn dogfight on purpose," he screamed. I let him yell for a few minutes until he quieted down. Before I could talk, the General jumped in.

"It was fucking brilliant. Both of you would have been taught in training that a move like that was impossible. Nobody told her she couldn't do the impossible, so she did. I've been flying for 25 years and that was the stupidest, gutsiest, balls out there move I have ever seen. I timed it. You lasted 72 seconds from take off to shot down. 72 fucking seconds and you cheated by coming after her during her climb. You fucking cheated and she blew you out of the sky and you were in our latest and greatest. Sorry Cliff, you will never, ever live this down."

"Young lady, I underestimated you. I put you up against Cliff to embarrass you and put you in your place," said the General. "You put me in mine. When you graduate high school, you call me. You'll be on the Blue Angels in a year."

He turned to his aide and told him to get every pilot on base into the ready room in thirty minutes and to put the video of the two loops and the dogfight on loop until we got there. We went into the building and went into his office. They asked a lot more questions about my flying and it was the first time that Cliff heard that I'd flown us in on the 747.

"Wait, wait," said Cliff. "I get that you just killed me in a dogfight and I don't even understand how an 11 year old kid was flying an F22, but you're telling me you personally flew in a 747?"

"Would you like her to teach you Cliff?," said the Ollie. "She is certified as an instructor on it. I flew in right seat. When we get back to PIE, I'm putting my right seat time in my logbook and she's going to sign it. I'll actually have almost 3 hours in an airliner. Who ever thought that would happen?" Jaws around the room dropped. With that the General stood up and we walked out of the room and into the back of the ready room. No one noticed us. They were watching the video of the loops and the dog fight. They were all jabbering at once. I heard things like "A fucking spin" and "On purpose" and "How the fuck did they survive". OK, maybe the spin was a little out there, but I didn't think so. With that, the General cleared his throat and made a signal to stop the video. It happened to pause just at the spot where I recovered the spin and was aimed right at Cliff's ass.

We walked to the front.

"So, you all seem to be of the consensus that what you just saw was stupid, dangerous, and a few other profane words," said the General. There were a lot of "Fuck yeahs" and other choice words.

"Before we got there, what did you think of the two loops?," said Dave. The general consensus was the first one was flawless and the second one was terrible. Well, yeah.

"Well, I think those positions are skewed by the fact that not one pilot in this room could have pulled off that move. Raise your hand right now if you think you could and we'll head right outside for you to prove it," said Dave. No one moved an inch.

"Then let me introduce you to the pilot that pulled that move," said Dave, introducing me. Yep bedlam. Finally he got them all quieted down and I heard a lone voice. "Oh, and the first loop was her. The second loop was Frank."

"Wait, we're being punked. I know that girl. I saw her in the movie that won best picture this year. She won best actress and shared it with her sister," said the pilot. "I feel better. That was just CGI bullshit, not real." Dave, Ollie, and Cliff all laughed, which got a smile out of that pilot, because he thought they were confirming his theory.

"I think I'll let Cliff respond," save Dave. "He was in the F35."

"As embarrassed as I am to admit it, that was real video shot less than an hour ago. Worse, I cheated. We were supposed to fly out 15 miles and engage. I went after her on her climb out," said Cliff. "A nasty move on my part, but fuck she's 11 and shouldn't have even been in the damn plane. As it turns out, she deserved that seat. She put a fucking F22 into a flat spin on purpose and recovered in 180 degrees to put two sidewinders up my ass. Let me repeat that. She recovered a flat spin in 180 degrees. I was in the air and I didn't know what the fuck had happened, I just knew I was a kill. I had to land to have it explained to me, and I just saw the video for the first time and it was amazing. Simply fucking amazing."

I couldn't resist. I just couldn't.

"174 degrees," I said. That's all I said. More bedlam.

"Wait, what?" said Cliff.

"I recovered in 174 degrees. That's the position I needed to take you down. If I had recovered in 180 degrees, I would have missed the shot," I said. People were really shouting now, but the General waved them down and turned to me.

"That was a calculated move?," said Dave. "You didn't just spin it and pray? You knew the angle you needed and recovered a flat spin at a specific angle?"

"Sure," I said. "That's how I won. When I rolled, I got a glimpse of him through the canopy, so I knew the angle I needed. I spun it and calculated when I had to recover. It was at 142 degrees. It was a little bit of a gamble as I was roughly 60 seconds into my second flight in the plane, but I calculated that once I recovered it would spin through 22 more degrees before I had complete control."

"You made that calculation during the time you were inverting? In your head?," said Dave.

"Sure. When the hell else would I have made it? It's not like I had a damn calculator handy," I said, being, well, a little cocky. This time there was no bedlam. There was absolute silence. I could hear a plane taking off in the distance.

"Young lady, you are something special. That was simply the best flying I have ever seen and if you actually were in the air force you would likely have been court martialed for doing it," said Dave. That got a look of surprise from me.

"Yes, you would. We fly in defined parameters," he said. "That's what keeps us safe. Sadly, that's probably also lost us aircrafts and lives. But it is the safest approach. Had this fight been real, our rules, our parameters, would have killed you, not Cliff. Your insanity, and it is the right word, would have saved your life. Do you realize that we've lost three F22s to flat spins that couldn't be recovered? Top Gun had that part right. Flat spins are disorienting. Pilots can't recover. The good news is that all three pilots survived. The bad news is we have less than 200 F22s and that took out three of them. You shouldn't have been able to recover. You damn well shouldn't have been able to recover in exactly 174 degrees. It cannot be done."

I didn't know how to react to that, so I just stood there and then I spoke.

"I admit, I didn't know that. I'd recovered from a flat spin in a Cessna TTx. It was simple, at least to me. My instructor, I admit, had told me my recovery time was quick. The TTx is forgiving. I thought they all were. I guess my cockiness could have gotten us killed, but dammit it was simple, even in the F22," I said. They were all just staring at me and it was unnerving.

"OK, who wants to fly the F35 against Leslie, without cheating," said Dave. Not one person raised their hand. Who wants to risk being embarrassed?

"OK, then, I'll do it," said Dave. There was a collective gasp. I just turned and raised an eyebrow. Frank jumped in.

"The General has won three of the last seven Top Gun competitions," he said. Well sure. Why the fuck not. I might get shot down, but I'd get shot down by the best.

The next hour was one of the most thrilling of my life. It was one hell of a lot of fun. I was told later that dogfights rarely last more than ten minutes, but we battled for a little over an hour. At least twice I heard Frank screaming. That made me laugh. Yeah, those moves were, um, aggressive. The second time I heard him scream was roughly 3 seconds before I put a sidewinder up the General's ass. Yep. I did. The General radioed me and told me we were going to tandem land. I heard Frank gasp. Again. He explained what it meant. Hell I didn't know. It meant we'd fly wingtip to wingtip and land on the same runway and the same time. It had to be seriously close as the runway isn't that wide. We flew into position at about 1000 feet, and the General kept telling me closer. We were less than a foot apart when we kissed the tarmac together and rolled up to the hanger. As soon as we got out, to my surprise Frank went after the General.

"You don't fucking tandem land an F22 and an F35 together. It's never been done. It's stupid. They're too different," yelled Frank, AT the General, who laughed.

"Well, it's been done now," said Dave. "Let's not tell Leslie what she can't do. That way she can teach us what she can." Well, that was nice.

Just then all the pilots ran out of the building. Frank quickly told me they had been watching the fight on live video. They all started talking, well yelling, at once. The General raised his hand.

"Men, that was the toughest dogfight in which I have ever been in. It was also the longest. My previous record was 22 minutes before I got the kill and that was in a Top Gun finals. This lasted 63 minutes. Leslie countered every move I had. I had used all my best moves in the first 10 minutes, and had used them all again by 20 minutes. I tried some things that I'd dreamed about and never tried. I tried stupid things. She dodged them all. I don't think he knew his mic was live, but I heard Frank scream like a girl just as Leslie made that last move and put one up my tailpipe. She won fair and square and now I'm going to take her to dinner in the mess hall and you are all welcome to join us."

"Screamed like a girl?," I said. "I didn't scream." That broke up everyone, including the General. When we got to the mess hall, they'd made a video of my inverted loop, my kill of Frank, and my kill of the the General and played it over and over. As we walked in and went over to an open table, I heard things like "who the hell was flying", "that move was nasty", "fucking nuts", and "that was really the General getting shot down?". I heard that last one a lot. By now I was back in just shorts and a T-shirt, and my hair was in a pony tail so I looked every bit of 11. The General went to the front of the room and everyone quieted down. He waved me up and I went and stood next to him.

"In response to many of the comments I heard," said Dave. "That move was indeed nasty, it absolutely was fucking nuts, and yes, that was me getting my ass shot down, after a 63 minute dogfight," said Dave. The 63 minute comment got a collective gasp.

"This young lady next to me is the pilot in all three of those clips," he said. Just then the aide handed him a ball cap. He turned, put it on my head, and adjusted the size. He even pulled my pony tail through the strap. I didn't even know what it said.

"I know you can't read it, Leslie," said Dave. "But they can. It says Top Gun. It's the hat I won at the last competition. You deserve it more than I do." With that, the entire room gave me a standing ovation. Yeah, I think I blushed. Dave waved the crowd down again.

"Oh, one more thing," said Dave, turning to me. "While we were in the air, my aide made some phone calls. He had a bit of trouble getting anyone to believe him, but he got through to the General that runs the Top Gun competition. He told your story, to much disbelief. His query was whether they'd let you into this year's competition. We often allow foreign fighter pilots, and his suggestion was that we give you enough time in the F22, in the next three months, to qualify. He even told them that you were in a dog fight with me at the time. The General apparently laughed at him. He ended the call by saying that if you beat me, you were in. I don't think he expected that to happen. We just sent him this video. I'll read you the text I just got from him." He pulled out his phone.

"Unfucking believable. Impossible. I thought there was no chance, but I am a man of my word. She's in."

Turning to me, he said: "Leslie, you have three months. You need hours in the F22. No pilot has ever competed with less than a thousand hours in aircraft. 90 days. We need you here as often as you can fly. Can someone drive you over regularly? If you can't, don't do this.

"Can I land a helicopter here?," I asked. The General looked at me funny. Oh yeah, he hadn't seen my license. He didn't know.

"Sure, but someone will fly you over in a helicopter?," he asked, in front of the whole group. Oh well.

"No. I will. My family keeps one at the house," I said, confusing the fuck out of him. "I can fly myself over."

"You're certified in a helicopter?," he said. I just pulled out my license and handed it to him. He muttered one word. "Damn". He handed it to his aide, and whispered something to him. The aide pulled out his phone and took a picture of my certifications. Just for fun, I handed him my instructor card and he took a picture of that too. Not a minute later, the video stopped and my certifications popped up on the screen. Yeah, yeah, I heard a lot of interesting conversations at that point. It was up for a short time and then was replaced by my instructor card. That caused even more noise. Finally another officer walked up. The General saluted her. Yep, a woman, and the General saluted.

"Heather, I had no idea you were in town," said Dave, who proceeded to introduce me to the Secretary of the Air Force. The big dog. The boss.

"Young lady, I should probably have Dave's stars for letting you into that dogfight, but I watched the live stream. That was some amazing flying and you beat him fair and square," she said. "I'm going to let you train and compete, because I think it will be good for the Air Force, but I do have a request that you let us do some publicity around it. It might be the single best thing for recruiting in Air Force history. You see, I know who you are, and I know what you did to save Class 1 offshore racing, with your sister. I also know your other sister just won the Indy 500 at 16," she said. "Fucking amazing. My turn to talk."

She turned around and cleared her throat and the entire room leapt to their feet and saluted. She waved them back into their seats.

"What you just saw was an amazing display of flying by an unlikely pilot. Apparently I am the only one in this room that knows their story. Does no one actually read Sports Illustrated? Or maybe you skipped over the article about a little girl. Oh, I don't mean Leslie. She was in the article, but that one was about her sister Morgan. Maybe you heard that a 16 year old girl won the Indy 500?," said Heather. Sure, I call her Heather. "That was Leslie's sister Morgan. Or perhaps you follow offshore racing and are aware of the two young women that dominated this year and won Class 1 racing by the largest margin in history. The pilot of that boat was Leslie's sister Chris, and Leslie was on the throttles. Every single person in this room underestimated this young woman. Cliff did and it got his ass shot down, even though he cheated, by the most amazing flying I've ever seen in my career. I don't think Dave underestimated her, but he did get his ass shot down. So yes, she's going to compete in San Diego and if I was a betting woman, I'd put money on her."

Stella who?

Orlando here, and we're going to go down an odd tangent and I get to tell the story, and even I can't believe it. I think I found my new calling.

You see, I got the strangest call, from Stella McCartney. I may be a backwoods hick from Florida, but even I know who she is. She called me with an emergency. New York Fashion week started tomorrow and one of her male models had gotten sick. She needed a 'fresh face', as she put it and wondered if I could get to New York tonight. Me? Really me?

Well, I had grown a lot recently. I was 5'10", 165, and pretty fucking ripped. I did not look 13, and I sure wasn't going to tell her. How the hell she found me, I don't know. I assured her that my parents would approve and yes I could be there in a few hours. She said she would hold five tickets for the rest of my family. She had done her homework.

I wrote down when and where I should be. 6 am at the MOMA. And yes, I knew where that was. Apparently I was going to be busy as she had me in 6 different shows in five days. She laughed when I said I had never modeled.

"I know," she said. "That's why you're perfect. You're young, hot, and approachable. You'll have models hanging all over you. Try not to fuck them all. Now, one problem and I'm still working it out. I don't have a place for you to stay. I had a 6 bedroom house outside the city and it fell through. I had my youngest models there. Not only that but the chaperone fell through. We are in a mess. That's my next crisis."

"Oh, that one I can solve. My parents can be the chaperones. We have a six bedroom apartment off Central Park," I said. "I'll text you the address."

"You do?," she said. "Six bedrooms? But where will the rest of your family stay?"

"No worries," I said. "We have another 4 bedroom place in the same building. It's 11 now. Do you want to meet there at 3?"

"Yes, yes, yes," she said. "But can you get here that fast? And I don't understand any of this but you're my savior."

"Sure," I said. "See you then."

I tracked down Mom. We all know she is in charge. I told her the story. She was both proud of me and couldn't stop laughing.

"Take a BIG box of condoms. Just don't tell anyone your age. If they ask, just smile," she said. "We promise to give you privacy. Go get your sisters and tell them to pack fashionable clothes."

Good advice Mom on how to get laid. I found the girls and they were excited. I packed my nicest stuff, including a couple suits. I can dress up.

We all flew up in the BFP. We flew to the apartment and got there just before 3. As we walked into the kitchen the doorbell rang. Oh we cut it close. I flipped on the monitor and saw Stella surrounded by the most beautiful young women I had ever seen, not counting my sisters, who could all be models. Not a man or boy in sight. We opened the elevator but they needed two trips. Stella and 9 models. Uh oh. She counted on 5 rooms, two apiece. What did that do for me? Roll with it Orlando.

Stella swept in the room. The whole family was well dressed and we actually looked respectable.

"Holy shit," said Stella. "This is your family? I loved your movie and the TV drama. You're actually siblings? Wow, just wow."

She introduced all 9 girls. I knew them all. I'd spent the entire flight researching young models. I'm not stupid. As I met each one, I shared a show they were in and a particular outfit I liked. I did like the outfits but research is important. It clearly blew them away.

"Well we do have one problem," said Stella. "This was supposed to have 5 bedrooms for 10 girls. You are decidedly not a girl. Anyone willing to share a room with Orlando?" It helped my ego that 9 hands shot up.

"Assuming your parents don't mind," she said. Mom laughed and said, and I quote "go for it." That got a laugh.

"Well," said one of the models. "We have five nights. We will draw straws." Ok by me.

"As long as you all give me your number," I said, jokingly. One of the girls saw a pen and paper on the counter and went and wrote something down. The other girls actually got in line. Wow. Fuck yeah. I'm Orlando. My super power is fucking supermodels. I hope.

"Now what will we do for dinner? Every restaurant is packed," said Stella.

"What time would you like dinner?," asked Mom.

"Early. We must all be at MoMA at 6," said Stella. "Let's shoot for 6, but I don't know where."

"No worries," said Mom. "I got this." She pulled out her phone and sent a short text. She got a reply almost immediately.

"Reservations for 16 at 6," said Mom, naming the trendiest place in town.

"But how?," said Stella. We all laughed.

"We own it," said Morgan. "Why don't the girls and Orlando go choose tonight's rooms and then we can sit out on the patio. It is quite nice." With that she asked Alexa to open the patio and the wall opened, to much ooh-ing and ah-ing.

I walked the girls down the stairs. All the walls were closed. I walked them into the first room and then said "Alexa, All 5." The walls moved around and it left the all the bedrooms not including the master as one big room. They all stood there stunned.

"If you don't need privacy, we can leave it this way," I said. "I like an audience and I like groups." Yeah, I went there. All 9 girls immediately agreed.

"Can I blow you?," asked one of the girls.

"Help yourself," I said, which is how I found myself naked on a bed with an equally naked supermodel blowing me and 8 more watching. Once I was hard, she climbed up me and settled on my cock. Damn she was tight.

"My face is free," I said. There was a flurry as 8 other models stripped. It was a sight to behold. I thought they would come to blows.

"Girls, girls," I said. "We have all week. This is a particular skill of mine. One of you climb on, and the rest help each other out for now. The youngest of them all made it to my face first. She was ready, as she got off quickly. I hadn't even cum yet. I managed to get three girls off, and finally I came, hard. She laid down beside me.

"Girls, are we going to leave her all messy?," I said. Yes, someone dove right in. They knew how to clean well, if her continuous orgasm was an indicator. We all got dressed and went upstairs to find everyone outside. We walked out, and I got THAT look from my sisters. What can I say, I'm a model stud now. We all found a place to sit, and one of the girls noticed the helicopter. Well, it is huge, and was RIGHT THERE.

"I've been meaning to ask," said Stella. "Amy, do you and Bob fly or did I miss a pilot or two?"

"You missed them," said Mom. "Leslie and Chris are our pilots. They flew us up to LaGuardia, and then here on that." That led to, you know, our standard spiel. We are fucking weird.

The week was amazing, and yes, I did OK on the catwalk. I didn't fall once. This was the first year with private changing cublicles, but I got to see a lot of naked girls every night. In my bed. By the end of the week, I had, well, fucked them all, including one that was a virgin. I spent a lot of time with her, privately, making certain that she was sure. I wasn't going to fuck her just for the points, so to speak. She was ready and yes, she loved it. I am the virgin whisperer.

Oh, and I had all their phone numbers. Two were coming down for the weekend, after the show. Yeah, baby. Oh, don't think my sisters were left out. I didn't share THAT secret, but they got a lot of girl on girl play all week. I also added a lot more numbers to my list as the week went on. Girls and boys. Oh yeah.

Top Fucking Gun

Orlando's story is so cool. He had a ball, so to speak, and yes, I got to play. They might be supermodels, but they came just like me. Oh, I really mean that. They came just like me. What fun. Oh, Leslie here.

But now we're back to Top Gun.

It's a beautiful day when when Morgan, Chris, and Mom landed in San Diego. I was allowed three guests, and one of them had to be an adult woman, as I needed a chaperone, which made me laugh. It's particularly silly, because I landed earlier in the day in my F22 that I'd be using for the competition. Oh sure Leslie, fly cross country in an F22, but on base, your Mommy needs to be with you. Well, I wasn't going without Morgan, my rock. Chris was an easy choice too. My new sissy. Oh, and somebody had to fly the Hemisphere. Yeah, she could fly solo now. I'd signed off on her and Doug hadn't even hesitated to sign her paperwork.

I still cannot believe I am here. Oh, I got plenty of hours in the F22. I flew damn near every day. It was summer break. Who the hell would pass up seat time in a fighter jet? Dave and I did dogfights at least 4 times a week. By the end of my training I fought every pilot on the base at least twice. Dozens of dogfights. Want to know how many I lost? Well, you don't need any fingers. I beat Dave in 12 fights, head-to-head. He didn't win one. I think it demoralized him a bit. When Chris and Mom pulled up, Dave was waiting with me. He complimented Mom on her landing and she laughed.

"Oh, I don't know how to fly a plane," said Mom.

"Me neither," said Morgan. Well, that just left Chris. She was in shorts and loose T-shirt, which didn't exactly show off her little puffies. She even had pigtails. I swear she looked about 9 and I think she did it on purpose. She introduced herself to "General Dave" as I usually called him, and said she was the pilot. He looked at her and at me, and just moved on. He didn't even ask a question. At least he was catching on. We needed to get moving though, as the pilot's meeting was in 30 minutes. Dave sent the family off with an escort and he and I rode in a golf cart to the meeting.

We walked in and it was clearly about to start. We found seats near the back. A man got up and introduced himself as Oscar, the head of Top Gun, and did a little welcome than turned it over to his aide to discuss today's practice session. I saw the aide look at me funny. You see, almost no one was in on my participation. Oscar, Dave, and Heather decided it would be a bigger splash if it was secret and swore everybody that had been in the room to secrecy. Apparently it had held, even through hundreds of hours of training and tons of air battles.

"Excuse me miss," he said. "I don't know how you even got in this room, but this is pilots only. I'll get an escort for you. You'll need to leave." I'm sure it didn't help that I was in shorts and a Nirvana T-shirt. Keep'em guessing. Just then Heather walked in the side door and you've never seen a group stand and salute faster. She walked over to the podium.

"No, she doesn't need to leave," said Heather. "Come on up", waving at me. I walked up and stood next to her. She's tall, so I am sure I looked like the kid I am. She introduced me, which was embarrassing.

"Leslie is the pilot to beat in this competition," said Heather. "Come on up here Dave." He walked up and by his expression, he knew he was about to be embarrassed. I got a wry grin.

"You all probably recognize the General," said Heather, to murmurs of agreeement. "What if I told you that in 12 gunfights over the last 3 months against the same opponent, the General was 0 for 12. Lost them all. The first one lasted 63 minutes." Yeah, that got a big gasp from the crowd.

"The final one lasted 2 minutes. He was toast in TWO minutes," said Heather. They were all on the edge of their seats, clearly stunned.

"Leslie here," said Heather, motioning to me. "was his opponent. Remember that folks. 2 minutes." With that she waved us back to our seats and sat down in the front row. I gave the aide credit, he finished the briefing as if nothing happened.

The practice day was interesting. They actually ran it as a mini version of the contest, but all in parallel. They'd blocked out sectors over the Pacific, and would run 16 concurrent dog fights. Once complete, you landed and refueled. If you won, you went right back up for the next round. 32, 16, 8, 4, 2, 1. You flew as many as 5 sorties if you made the finals. I was going to damn well make the finals. The posted the brackets on the wall. Beside their names, it showed their best finish in Top Gun competitions and the number in which they competed. They stacked the brackets. The first bracket was all the rookies and fairly new pilots, except one. Dave. Setting me up for a rematch? No one had over two previous competitions and no one had finished higher than 8th. I wasn't in that bracket. I was in the other bracket. The one with all the past champions and Top 5 finishers. Thanks Heather. My first round was against a French figher that had been Top 3 for 5 straight years and won the two years Dave didn't. Seriously? My first fight? I am guessing the pilot that would have taken the 32nd spot was pissed. He got bumped by an 11 year old girl. Oh well, I'm better.

I suited up and went to my plane and got in. I got clearance to take off. I was in the farthest sector and had instructions on how to fly to get there. You had 32 fighters in the air, so we have to be careful. This was a rigorous process and I knew the rules. I just hoped I didn't get knocked out in the first round, but damn, the guy I was fighting must have been good. We got the signal to fight, and he was oh so predictable. Like a bully throwing a roundhouse punch, he came directly at me, trying to intimidate me. I waited and waited until just about too late, and dove under him then inverted a short loop and put one into his left engine, while I was still inverted. 55 seconds. Come on, give me competition. We flew back on the prescribed route and landed. The rules included post-fight photos of us shaking hands. That was awkward. He was pissed and embarrassed. He let out a stream of French and I'm guessing it wasn't polite. I just smiled. Finally he calmed down.

"You waited too late! Way too late! Then you made a fucking insane move. You shot while inverted and in afterburner. That's not how it is done," he said. He was a prick. I just couldn't resist.

"It is now," I said and stuck out my hand. The photo is hilarious. I'm smiling my biggest sweetest smile and he is fucking angry. I love it.

I made it through the next three rounds with only one fight being competitive. This was weird. These were the best. The one that was competitive was also a former winner and he was in an F35. I knew the weaknesses of that plane and exploited them. He did last over 10 minutes, and fought hard, but in the end I took him down. He was really nice though and the picture was actually of him giving me a hug. OK, horny little guy too, as he was clearly hard.

So, final round of the practice day. A precursor to the real final perhaps? Me and Dave. Dave and me. We'd done 12 fights, all recently. We knew each other's strengths and weaknesses and knew them well. I needed something different to get this kill. The fights start off with a flyby. You fly past each other and as your planes pass, the fight is on. I knew I shouldn't. I knew it. I knew I'd get grief for it. But I did it. You know I did it. As soon as we passed, I put it into a spin. The timing was critical, but this one was so simple. I knew exactly where he was. I came out of the spin and there he was. I put a sidewinder into his engine. Time to kill? 11 seconds. We landed and pulled up and Heather was there to greet us and couldn't stop laughing. She finally calmed down.

"That was the dumbest, stupidest move I have ever seen. Worse than the first time you did it, because now you know better," said Heather. "I'd toss you from the Air Force for that move, but you're not IN the Air Force. I've already gotten four calls to toss you from the competition, but why the hell would I do that? You have cojones girl. I am, however, going to tell you never to do it again. If you do, you lose, and you never fly one of our planes again. Period." Damn, should have saved it for the real final I guess. That's OK, I can win without it. I was just showing off.

I noticed the other pilots had stripped off their flight suits and were in shorts and T-Shirts. Thank God, that suit was hot as hell and I'd flow 5 sorties. I was sweating. I unzipped my suit and stepped out of it and heard a collective gasp. I looked down. Oh shit. I hadn't thought ahead. I was in cheer shorts. Not exactly the standard, but they were OK. The problem was my shirt. I knew it would be hot, so I was wearing a tight white tank top. You know, THAT tank top. It was the right size, so no belly showing, but still form fitting. What I had not anticipated was the amount of sweat. Yes, I was standing there next to the female Secretary of the Air Force wearing a wet T-shirt. A soaked through wet T-shirt. Showing every single bit of my tits and nipples. See-thru. Fuck. Luckily somebody reacted and an enlisted man ran over and handed me a T-shirt that had the logo of the competition on it. I pulled it on and it was huge. I was wearing the competition T-shirt dress. Oh well, better than my nipples. Heather was laughing again. Apparently I am entertaining. I did notice her check out my tits. Hmm...

There was a welcome banquet that night and I got to sit on the dias. That was surreal. It was all the Air Force brass and the winner of the practice shootout. I found myself sitting between Heather and the Chairman of the Joint Chief of Staff of the entire military. Apparently no one bothered to brief him, as he was confused on why he was sitting next to a little girl (as he put it). He was supposed to sit next to the winner of the practice challenge. I stuck out my hand and introduced myself and assured him he was. Yeah, that got a funny look. We spent most of dinner with Heather talking across me and telling MY story. I think I blushed a lot.

OK, this has been one long story, so I'll bring it to a close with the news you want. Yes, I won. No it wasn't against Dave, as he came in third. The final match was exciting, but short. I won in under a minute, which was the shortest fight in the finals ever. I flew against a Chinese pilot in their new J-20 fighter that just went into service. It was supposed to be hot shit, and I suppose it was, given he made it to the finals, beating Dave in the previous round. Too bad. On this day I was better.

Yeah, Morgan made the cover of SI two weeks ago. To my surprise, I made the cover of Time this week. They used the photo from the first round of the practice round. Remember, the one where I'm smiling and the opposing French pilot was angry. Kind of said it all.

Oh, and yes, Ollie is a good fuck. A very good fuck. We had to be discreet, but I had an apartment at the airport, remember? He was particularly fond of anal. Well, when we started he was fond of being an anal top. But I introduced him to Tom and Jess. They joined us. Regularly. It wasn't long before he kept asking for anal, but he meant as a bottom. I won't share any more stories, as I really shouldn't. Just remember who liked my wet T-shirt the most.

I'm still in the Civil Air Patrol, but I spend most of my time at MacDill. Dave still laughs when I land in the helicopter. Every once in awhile I fly over in the 747, just because I can. I got to know several of the other pilots very well. Very, very well. There were advantages to being able to give tours in the 747. One in particular was great fun, as he was the single Dad of three children. I guess I can go ahead and share that story. I never did find out why he was a single Dad, but I do visit them fairly often. Sometimes I take my siblings. He wasn't very well endowed, but had other skills.

His name is Jimmy, and his kids are so much fun. I've taken them to the movies several times, and sometimes just to the McDonalds, but that's not the story you want to hear, now is it. His kids were Jimmy Jr, Willy, and Milly. Seriously. Anyway, JJ was 11 and Willy was 10. I would later find out they had some serious skills, both with their cocks and their mouths. But the most fun was little 6 year old Milly. She loved to lick and suck things. Nipples, pussies, cocks. She'd lick anything. She was still a virgin, so nobody got to fuck her, and that pissed her off. A lot. I finally had a chat with Jimmy, you know, their Dad, and discussed whether Orlando should take care of the situation. Jimmy agreed, as he felt like she needed someone special.

But first, let me share the first time we were together. I actually volunteered to babysit, so Jimmy Sr. could go out on a date. I got to meet the date, and he was smoking. Oh, that's not what you expected, was it? I just hoped they'd tag team me later, and I'm sure Jimmy knew that. Jimmy had already fucked me, a lot, and hinted that the kids liked to play, but I never had gotten to. They left me home with the three kids. I know JJ and I are the same age, but let's face it, he still played with toys. My toy was a 747. A little more maturity.

Jimmy wasn't out the door with James five minutes before the kids wanted to play. Yes Jimmy and James. Wouldn't that be confusing if they ever got married? Anyway, it was Milly that started things by wandering into the living room naked, with her finger in her pussy. OK, I could take a hint. I picked her up and laid her on the carpet. I pulled apart those tiny pussy lips and started licking, while I rubbed her clit.

"Put in a finger or two," she said. So I did. I stood up for a minute and stripped and went back to work. I didn't even notice JJ come into the room until he slid his cock in, doggy style. He might be young, but damn he was good. He reached around and rubbed my clit while he was stroking in and out. Milly didn't last long and neither did I. When I came, he came, and a surprising amount. When he pulled out, I laid down on my back. Milly knew what do do and cleaned me out.

I'm going to hand the pen to Orlando, as he wants to tell some story about drag racing. Can't be as exciting as flying, but I suppose it is to him.

Da race, da race

Hey, that's not fair. I know my sisters are doing amazing things, but I like what I do. I'm this year's cart champion. No one mentions that, but mostly because it's already been done. By Morgan. Oh well, I'm proud of them all.

I did work with Jason as I asked Dad if I could. We bought all the land to easily build the track out to 1/4 mile. I'm not sure why they never did. Probably cost. It wasn't cheap. We were fair, but never let on we were putting together a big parcel. Someone would have held out for big bucks. We worried until we closed the last deal, but got it all. Finally I setup a meeting with the owner of the drag strip. He knew me from my racing, and is a really nice guy, but was confused on why I wanted to meet him outside of race days. I ubered over, as this was my deal, and I dressed in nice khakis and a polo shirt, with actual shoes. For me, I was dressed up. For some reason I was nervous, even though I was about to gift this guy almost $10M in property AND pay another couple million to extend the track, if he couldn't do it.

"Orlando, a pleasure to see you," said Johnny, shaking my hand. "I admit you have my curiosity up on why you wanted to meet. Don't know much about you, other than your driving has really improved and your family seems to have an unlimited supply of amazing cars. Oh, and that your Mom is hot. Oh, I meant on the track. She's a good driver." I had to suppress a laugh, as he turned bright red.

"It's OK Johnny," I said. "I'm 13. I can see that Mom is smoking hot, and I DON'T mean on the track. You should see her in a bikini." We both paused for a second, imagining just that. OK, in my case without the bikini, but you get my point.

"I'm here to talk about the track. I love racing here, but it is an 1/8th mile. I'd sure love it to be a 1/4 mile and I might be able to help you accomplish that," I said.

He laughed and said: "Hell, I'd blow you if you could do that." OK then.

"Great, should I unzip here? I'm 13. I am always up for a blowjob," I said. He got a funny look on his face. It certainly looked like he would enjoy giving me that blowjob.

He stammered a bit: "Joke, Orlando, joke," he said, but his voice had gotten husky.

"Well, I can help you," I said. "And I am holding you to that blowjob. Who knows, maybe I'll bring Mom by and you can bang her too, but my blowjob comes first." I think he almost came in his pants.

"Anyway," I said. "My family happens to now own all the property to make that dream come true," I said.

"You do? I'll be damned. That must have been a challenge. That's cool and all, but I can't possibly afford to buy it from you," he said.

"I'm not asking you too. Our family is weird, and there is a reason we have that supply of cool cars, and it means that we can't risk owning part of a drag strip," I said. "We're prepared to gift you the property. We'd just want a contract that you'll immediately begin construction to extend the track to 1/4 mile. We'd also like the courtesy of runnning whenever ever the track is available. Meaning track days for our family at no cost. We'll cover any expenses, like your crew, but no rental fee. Oh, and unlimited blow jobs," I said.

"You're serious. Your family can and will do this," he said. I put the contract on this desk. He slowly read through it. I do love our attorney though, as it was in really clear English.

"You are serious. This is fucking amazing. Why would you do this?," he said.

"Because we love to race, and Orlando and Bradenton are too far," I said. "There are some serious committments in there. You should have your lawyer review it."

"No, I'm good," he said. "I actually am a lawyer. I just got tired of it. Now I do this for a lot less money." He picked up a pen and signed it, made a copy, and handed me the original. Mom had already signed it.

"I'll have the crew in here tomorrow. When can we have occupancy of the land?," he asked. I told him immediately. That had been a requirement of each purchase.

With that, he got up, and walked around to my side of the desk and got down on his knees. I'll be damned. I unzipped my nice khakis and dropped them to the floor. I was commando, of course. He proceeded to give me an outstanding blow job. I particularly liked it that he saved my cum and kissed it back to me. Oh, you know I returned the favor. He had a nice 6 inch cock and was a fucking huge cummer. I had to swallow some, but he got a lot back. I suspect we'll enjoy working together.

"You still got enough for a second round?," I asked. He perked right up. Yeah, down there.

"What did you have in mind?," he said.

"Well, Mom's picking me up," I said. His eyes got wide. And yes, I got to watch him bend Mom over the desk and fuck her. The time of his life.

As it turned out, his partners in the track were just as much fun. I spent a lot of time there during the construction. I blew a lot of cocks. Got a lot of blowjobs and there were a lot of cocks in a lot of asses, including mine. The most memorable afternoon was the day Mom came with me. They fucking lined up for a chance. She took eight of them in a row. Her only requirement was they had to eat their own creampie. They all did. I didn't get in line. I didn't think I'd share that with them. I did get to watch though.

Finally we were at opening day of the new track. They'd built it carefully to keep the existing track open as long as possible, but eventually had to close for a couple weeks. In the end, we did help them with constructions costs, as we wanted a world class track. That meant ripping out the entire existing track. Opening day was on Wednesday night, which meant our family got all day Tuesday to ourselves. It was fucking awesome. When I said world class, I meant world class. At one point I was standing with Johnny and Leslie came up.

"So Johnny, Orlando tells me you have a very nice office," said Leslie. "Would you like to show it to me?" She then gave him one of her million watt smiles. His eyes got big and he turned to me. I just smiled and nodded. Last I saw was them going around the corner towards his office, but when I saw him next he looked like he'd been ridden hard and put up wet. In other words, hurricane Leslie. Not sure he could handle a threesome with Leslie and Chris. I barely can and I have the advantage of youth.

Well, Leslie wants the pen back. She says she forgot to tell a story about Jimmy and James. Not sure what that is all about.

And one more thing

Leslie here. Yes, I forgot that story and it is worth telling.

I had all the kids in bed when Jimmy and James came home. I was watching a stupid movie and didn't hear them come in. I was absentmindedly rubbing my pussy, having pulled my cheer shorts to the side. I was pinching a nipple through my T-shirt too. Oh, I'd gotten fucked but I was still horny. I only realized they were there when the stood in front of me, naked, and hard. They had intentions, but I was in charge. I told them they could both fuck me, but I wanted to watch them fuck first. Oh, they accomodated me in every possible way.

Characters in the stories




Oliver (Ollie)
General Dave




The oldest of the new kids
The middle child and the only boy
The youngest
Adopted daughter
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe's guest
Ruby's guest
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe's guest
Cisco's sister
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe's guest
Ruby's guest
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Gabe and Ruby's party parent
Ruby's guest
Ruby's guest
Civil Air Patrol commander
Commander, flight squadron
F22 Instructor
F35 Instructor
Secretary of the Air Force
Pilot friend of Leslie's
Jimmy's boyfriend
Jimmy's son
Jimmy's son
Jimmy's daughter
Drag strip owner


6'2" - 165, swimmer's body, 6 inch cut average cock
5'1" - 110, bright red hair, D cup
5'5" - 120, dirty blonde, small B cup, gorgeous
5'0" - 100, dirty blonde, 6 inch cut thick cock
4'6" - 80, brown hair, flat chested
4'11" - 80, slim, glorious puffy nipples
5'5" - dark hair, shapely, C cup
6'1" - 180, blonde, 6" cut, thin
4'8" - AAA cup, dark hair, cute AF
4'6" - blonde, skinny, 3 inch thick
5'10" - muscular, well tattooed, 7 inch thin.
5'4" - voluptuous and sexy, D cup.
5'2" - skinny, 5 inch thin.
3'11" - tiny and cute.
5'8" - white, athletic, C cups
6'4" - black, 220, 9 uncut, average
5'4" - mixed, 90, 6 uncut
4'8 - mixed, 60, 5 uncut.
5'8" - Asian, 140, 5 cut and thin
4'11" - Asian, 90, A cup
4'0" - flat, idential twins
4'0 - flat, idential twins
5'8" - 150, 5 cut and thin.
6'2" - 180, 7 inches of thick BBC
5'0" - 120, 4 cut and thin.
4'10" - 100, 3.5 cut and thin.
3'8" - little and cute.
6'0" - 210, slight beer belly, but carried it well. 6 cut and average.

End of Chapter