Chapter 9 - The Call - Leslie can fly!

I love email. If you give me a story line, I'll name a character after you. I really need ideas for fun situations. Get it?

Morgan races, right?

I hope you enjoyed Morgan and Leslie's first journal entries. I can't believe the nice things they said. They mean so much to me. The circumstances were sad, but they've changed my life, and Amy's life, so much.

I admit, I'd forgotten the 'last blowjob' story, or whatever you would call it, or I probably would have told the story. Maybe the girls will tell more stories I missed. I will also say Leslie's story about the bus rides was hot. I know you believe that too. The thought of that boy losing his virginity on a bus full of kids is just crazy and I am completely unsurprised Leslie made it happen.

My story picks back up as we landed the helicopter at our new place. It was fun seeing the excitement in Luca and Elena's eyes. I don't think their mother's death has entirely sunk in yet. She'd been gone for a month or more, so I guess some of the grieving had passed, and they have a pretty amazing sister/mother in Sophia. Is that a thing, sister/mother? I guess as close as Uncle/Dad and Nanny/Mom, or whatever. From this point on, she is their mom.

So, we bought a house in Italy. My spontaneous purchases have changed since the days that was usually a Twix bar. Bought a few extra cars too. Jesus, my life is weird and awesome. Our financial advisor, Jason, had emailed me while we were in Italy. Apparently, the press found out about both our car purchases and our house purchase. The ridiculous audacity of both had caused us to be known. I liked, no I loved, unknown. He also warned that this meant we were destined to be rock solid in the lower part of the Forbes 400. I do not like attention, attention I do not like. The family discussed it because this meant even more care. One misstep and we were well and truly fucked. I talked to our attorney, who said he'd talk to Forbes, but he didn't hold much hope. So much for privacy.

I just reread that paragraph. I actually typed the words "lower part of the Forbes 400" and it was an autobiographical reference. Holy shit. This being super rich stuff was hard to understand. I blew close to $50 million in the last week and it did nothing, nada, to our wealth. Heck, since the cars would likely appreciate, I made investments. I ride in a luxury helicopter and rent entire airliners and it is just my normal. Hey maybe I should buy a 757 like Trump. No, being like Trump isn't my goal. Although I do like to fuck my hot daughters. Did I go there? Yes, I went there. Although the 757 might not be that bad an idea. I'll bet a retired airliner is surprisingly cheap. Have to check out operating costs.

We got our guests settled and put them in three rooms in the guest wing to give them more privacy. The new bedrooms made me think of the new furniture which made me think of Curt and his team which made me horny. That was a foursome that needed to come back into our lives, even if it was just for a passionate afternoon.

Now that they were settled, Orlando suggested a boat ride, which resulted in a lengthy discussion of which boat. The 24 is fun, the 131 is fancy, and the 52 is in the middle. Apparently, we had the Goldilocks of boats. I wasn't given a vote because the kids discussed it. Sophia is interesting because she can be an adult and part of the group with Amy and me, and just as easily be a kid with Morgan and the others. I see the bond that she has formed with Morgan and I think it is good for them both. They finally ruled out the 24 and decided we would go tubing tomorrow. That left the 52 and the 131. The 52 was fast, and they liked fast, but the 131 had a Jacuzzi on the upper deck. The Jacuzzi won.

Alison and Blake had joined us, and Alison had joined the conversation to discuss dinner, which would be on the boat. No, I don't mean she talked to me. The kids were still in charge. Amy and I just stood to the side watching, so impressed with the self-confidence of our family. They were decisive and opinionated and ornery and loving and every other thing you can say, but I summarize it all with awesome. I'd like to take some parenting credit, but even they would laugh at me about that. Amy sure, me, nah.

So, we all set out on the boat after the decision was ribeyes and steamed lobster tails. Basically, my favorites, so no complaints from me. Of course, the fact they could decide on that and it was in our refrigerator and enough to feed 10 of us was also a little amazing. Go lobster.

We left early as this was a lazy day, given the travel from Italy. It's rare, but I really have no exciting stories to tell. Yes, we spent a lot of time naked, and yes, a few people probably fucked in the jacuzzi, but that's just our normal. Nothing to see here. As it got dark, I kept us offshore and set the boat on 'hover' where it basically maintains its spot in the ocean automatically. If anything untoward happened, it would set off alarms and wake us up. If someone got too close, it would light us up like a Christmas tree and set off big horns. We were already lighting the night sky, so the risk was low. Everyone found a place to sleep and I sure didn't run around and see who slept with who. Amy and I retired to our cabin and had a pleasant evening of sensuality. I'll leave it there.

Planes, carts, and ...

"This is a male dominated sport, and this is a very competitive league. If I come in as a rich newbie, especially a girl, I'll never fit in. That means a good, but used cart, and we pull it behind my Toyota. No Mercedes SUVs and no arriving by helicopter," she said.

She had really thought this through, and I couldn't find anything with which I disagreed.

"I do want to spend some money and it won't be cheap. Our track isn't big enough and it isn't a race course, it is just for fun. Not immediately but if I am actually any good, I want to rebuild it to be useful. It will still be fun, just longer and more challenging. I think we can design it with one path for newbies and one for racers. Maybe Orlando and Leslie will get into it too."

Again, no arguments. I loved that she wanted to wait to make the big investment. Rich and frugal was good.

"I knew you'd agree, so the cart arrives today. I can learn on the current track then rent time on a real track. The guy selling it is an ex-champ. He will be in on our secret, he has to be. Oh, not those secrets, just the race related ones. He has agreed to be my coach, for a fee. Pretty sure he is still believes I'm a rich newbie and our house won't change that, but he loved my thinking on the used cart. He also designed the best track in the southeast and we will build that if we get there."

Damn, I love her. Smart, resourceful, and planning ahead. What a kid. With that, she headed out of the room, but turned at the last minute.

"I want to learn to fly. I can't drive a car or a boat, but I can learn to fly. I think that is weird, but it is what it is. So here is the problem. No one will rent a plane for an 11-year-old to fly. Their insurance won't cover it. So, we have to buy a plane. No one will insure it if I'm flying it, even with Alison, so if a crash it, too bad. But I'm serious about this. I want to be jet rated. I can solo in a single engine at 12, a dual engine at 14, and a jet at 16. I did my homework. No one has ever certified in a jet at 16. Probably because they couldn't afford it. I will be the first. I plan on beating it too because there is an age exception with enough hours. I'm sure whoever wrote it didn't expect it to be used in a jet, but it will be by me," said Leslie.

"Alison says the Cessna 182 the plane I should start in, but I prefer the TTx. It has a greater range and, well, is faster. They around $700K new. She found one locally, used, for $550K, which is a good deal. It's owned by a school that is struggling and they are about to lose the plane. They don't know I know that. I want to offer them $500k for the plane and I want you to buy their hanger. They thought buying it was a good idea and it wasn't. It is killing them. It's big and can hold all their planes and have room for the TTx, the Beechcraft King air twin you'll soon be buying me, and the Citation that will be my jet trainer. There is room for the G650 we all know you're going to buy eventually too. It is a husband and wife team and I had them background checked, and they look good, except for their financials. They may be amazing pilots, but they suck at business. I want to hire them as our pilots too and the wife can take over from Alison when I'm ready to move up. She can train me on the twin and the Citation. Oh, and Alison can train me on a small copter too, but I can't certify in that yet. No loophole," she added. She sat there waiting, clearly expecting an argument.

But I didn't have one. She had a good plan, had done her homework, and was saving their business too. I hadn't been planning on buying a jet but now I was apparently buying two.

"$2.1 million total for the hanger and the plane. It's a fair price and the appraisal will support it," she said.

"Lance, I'll need $2.1 million wired in a couple hours. Just wanted to give you a heads up," I said. I thanked him and hung up.

I just smiled. Just than Alison walked in. I suspect she had been listening but that was ok. The hint was she was smiling too.

"Can please fly us to the airport?" I asked. "Apparently we have a deal to make."

Ten minutes later we were flying towards the St. Pete airport. I hadn't even thought to ask which airport, but this was good. We landed outside a nice large hanger. Right outside the giant open door was a pretty white and red plane. Leslie pointed and very excitedly said that was the plane. Just then a man and woman walked out of the open door. A helicopter landing does get attention. They walked up and introduced themselves as Tom and Jess. They shook my hand and Alison's hand, but just left Leslie standing there. Uh, oh. Hurricane Leslie was about to arrive. She stuck her hand out and shook their hands and shared her name.

"We want to buy that plane," she said, pointing to the TTx. "We want to buy the hanger too and have a business opportunity for you too."

They both got bemused looks on their faces and turned to me. I just shook my head and pointed at Leslie. That put up least one set of raised eyebrows, but they were quick and turned back to Leslie.

"Let's get right down to business," she said. "Our offer is $2.1 million, wired to your account today. We buy the hanger and the TTx. We would also like to hire you to train me on a King Air twin, which I know you own, and a Citation as soon as Alison trains me on the TTx. I'll need a lot of hours, so I'll be around a lot, but I'm a good kid and very serious."

They both looked a bit stunned and looked at me again. I just pointed at Leslie again.

With that we got the tour. It was a big hanger. It had a nice office, two good size training rooms, several bath/changing rooms and a lot of space. What surprised me was that it had a small apartment up a flight of stairs. Two-bedrooms, a living room and two bathrooms, with a full kitchen. It didn't surprise Leslie. She clearly already knew. Leslie turned to Tom and Jess.

"I know you live in the apartment now, but we would prefer you to move out. Alison and I will regularly need it when my hours ramp up. We will hire you both on retainer, but you should still be able to run your flight school. If we reach the point where that becomes impractical, we will renegotiate the deal," she said. She named a retainer figure that was probably a bit high, but would certainly lock them in.

They were quick learners. Tom stuck out his hand and said you have a deal. He didn't offer his hand to me, he offered it to Leslie and Jess followed suit.

We finished the tour and had just come around another TTx that was a white and blue twin to the one we bought when I saw a beautiful twin engine plane. It was sleek and sexy.

"How much did you pay for the King Air, what would it be appraised for now and what's the outstanding loan balance?" asked Leslie. That was a mouthful but got to the heart of the matter.

"You can't afford that. Your cash flow won't sustain it," said Leslie. She looked at me and I gave her just the smallest smile.

"We will buy that too. We will lease it back on a per hour basis and make that favorable. I'll need it soon anyway," she said. "$7.2 million is more than fair, and we both know it."

Tom spoke up. "Is this for real or are we being punked? Everything you say is amazing and will literally save our business, but you can't be over 12-years-old." He pointed at me and added "You can't be over 25 and she keeps calling you Dad."

Leslie laughed. "I'm 11. He is 23. He is my Dad, but not my bio Dad. We are for real and if you just shut up and agree to my terms, you'll have almost $10 million wired by lunch time," said Leslie.

"I work for him and the helicopter outside is his and he bought it from Mick for cash," said Alison. "The entire conversation consisted of me telling him he needed to buy it and him saying OK."

"That is the copter Mick was selling isn't it?" said Tom. "I'll be damned. I've never seen him so happy. He is such a great guy. He speaks of your family in such positive terms, but I didn't make the connection. He said your family is a lot of fun." A lot of fun. Interesting. He turned to Leslie and added: "When do we need to move out of the apartment?"

Leslie laughed and told them we could work out the details. She turned to me and said: "You have to Uber home. I want my first lesson," said Leslie.

I assured her I could find my way home and said I'd work out the paperwork with Tom and Jess. I handed my black card to Tom and told him I'd cover any costs until the money was wired in. He laughed and said he didn't need it and threw the keys to Alison. Leslie ran at full speed to the plane and they were in the air in minutes. I called Lance and told him the details and asked him to call our attorney and have him messenger over the paperwork. I told him to wire the money now as we had already shaken on it. He hated when I did that, but my handshake is my word. OK, Leslie's handshake.

I turned to Tom and Jess and suggested lunch at a nearby restaurant that is a favorite and said I'd have my wife join us. They immediately agreed. We piled into their Honda SUV after I called Amy. All of this had happened without her knowledge so there would be some catching up. We both arrived at the restaurant at the same time. Tom almost leaped out.

"Is that a real Yenko? A convertible? I didn't know there was a convertible," he screamed.

Jess just stood there with a bemused expression and introduced herself to Amy. Amy was clearly confused and after meeting Tom, asked "Out of curiosity, how do you know Bob?"

Both Tom and Jess turned to me and Jess said: "Your 11-year-old daughter just spent $10 million dollars, including buying two airplanes and your wife doesn't even know?"

It was my turn to look a little sheepish. We caught Amy up over lunch and a nice bottle of excellent wine and Amy couldn't stop laughing at every point in the story.

"What the hell do you do that you can burn over $10 million on a child's whim and do it in a $15 million helicopter?" asked Tom. "And how do the two of you have an 11-year-old daughter?"

"If must know, we are both retired, and Leslie is the youngest of our three. She has a 13-year-old brother and a 15-year-old sister, and they are equally as impressive," I said, but then I let them off the hook and told them enough of the story to clear things up.

"Wait," said Jess. "I just read about you two. You're the surprise new members of the Forbes 400 and no one has a clue who you are. Forbes actually listed you with an alias which is something they have never done. Something about respecting your privacy."

I shared that we would appreciate the continued confidentiality. They assured us our secret was safe.

"Did Leslie mean it that she wanted to be her certified by 16? That is a ton of hours," said Tom, with a nod from Jess.

"I don't think she will do it by 16," I said to more head nods. "She found a loophole. I predict 14." Amy just laughed.

With that, lunch broke up. I had suggested that they come for dinner and that they just ride back in the helicopter. It took them a bit to understand we parked the helicopter at our house, but they quickly agreed. We all agreed to burgers so it would be a simple dinner.

Amy and I left in the Camaro. Want to guess who was driving? I'm willing to bet you got it right that it wasn't me.

When we got to the house, I heard the banshee buzz of a go-cart, but not any cart we owned. There was also a small pickup with an empty trailer in the driveway. I caught Amy up on Morgan's request and she just laughed and headed inside. I took a golf cart and headed to the track. I pulled up and got out and saw a young man I didn't know standing next to the track. Just then a blur flew by at speeds I couldn't imagine in that small track. I couldn't see the driver as they were in a full fire suit and a full-face shield helmet.

The young man stuck out his hand and said: "You must be Bob. Morgan told me all about you. I'm Ted, her coach," he said. "I sure hope you're on board with that as this has moved fast. She is a natural. I'm not sure I could run this track any faster."

So that was Morgan. I'll be damned. She was flying. I asked Ted about being retired and he laughed. He shared he was retired from carts but only because he had moved up. His goal was the IndyCar series but right now he was running a lesser series. Apparently 24 was old to break into IndyCar. He believed he was good enough but was stuck finding sponsors. I asked him how much the total cost of running a team was. He shared a number that was a lot, but not that much to us. I filed that away for now. I asked him what age was the right age and he said 19. We talked about how many drivers started in carts. Just then Morgan pulled up and hopped off, pulling off her helmet. Her hair cascaded down.

"Damn, that's better than sex," she said, suddenly realizing what she had said. "Um, or at least so I am told."

I laughed, followed by Ted. I respected he had waited for my reaction first. I told Morgan we were having guests for dinner and she turned and invited Ted to join us. He turned to me, and I nodded, and he agreed. Apparently nodding was my new method of communication. He also needed to learn that Morgan was in charge. Just then Juanita drove up in another cart. After introductions, we invited Juanita to dinner and then the three of them started talking about constructing a better course. I knew my limits and left in my cart. Before I did, I noticed Ted edging closer and closer to Juanita. Can't say I blamed him. She is stunning and today her work outfit was gym shorts and a bikini top. A small bikini top.

I found Amy sunbathing by the pool in tiny bikini bottoms and nothing else. Sophia was with her and wearing equally as little clothing. I shared that Ted was here, which forced an explanation of who Ted was. She laughed and assured me Ted likely wouldn't object to her tits or Sophia's. Well, yeah, that's true. She did agree to put on a top when she heard the helicopter but made no promises it would stay on in the jacuzzi of the 131. Blake had stocked it for dinner. There would be 13 of us, so they'd chosen the big boat again. Ok by me. The afternoon had gotten away from me and just then we heard the helicopter. Amy and Sophia did put on their tops, but as sort of a reverse striptease laughing the entire time. They made it much, much worse by coming over and rubbing my hard cock for a bit through my shorts. I damn near came in my pants, but Amy knows me well. She stopped just in time, laughing again.

"Oh, don't worry dear," she said. "Someone will get you off tonight. Maybe me. Maybe Sophia. Maybe both of us. Not sure you could handle both of us." She might have been right about, that but I'd die trying.

Just then, a golf cart pulled up with Alison driving and Leslie beside her and Tom and Jess in the back. It hadn't even stopped when Leslie leaped out, ran over to me and jumped in my arms.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said. "Flying was as awesome as I expected. I need hours, lots and lots of hours. I think you'll need to pay Tom, Jess, and Alison to do it, or I'll wear them out. You'd never see Alison again if it was just her. Most people need 40 hours to get their license, but I need 160 to qualify for the exception. I can do 20 hours on the weekend, if they work in shifts and find another 20 during the week. That means I can qualify in about a month."

All eyes were on me again because half the people had no idea what she was talking about. I added nothing and assumed she'd share with them all later.

"Multi-engine doesn't have a minimum, it just needs to have Tom or Jess sign off. I can pull that one off pretty quickly because those hours qualify for my 160. I figure I'll be ready for the Bonanza after 80 hours, so would log 80 in the King Air. If they sign off, I'm going to apply for both exceptions at once. I still have homework to do on jets, but know you certify one aircraft at a time. That means I'll certify first on a smaller plane. I think that will be a Citation Mustang -- I've already priced them out. Then when you buy a G650, I'll certify for it too."

"Leslie, let's not talk about a jet yet. We love your passion, but before we go there, you're going to have hundreds of hours in prop plane. I'm OK with you getting the hours and getting certified in a Citation quickly, just to have that honor, but no one is flying with you for a while. You'll have an instructor, or someone rated with you for a long-time," I said.

She looked disappointed, then thoughtful. She finally agreed that probably made sense. After all, we had pilots on retainer. I did turn to Alison and asked if she wanted to get multi and jet certified. Didn't I sound like I knew what I was talking about? The excitement was obvious, and she quickly agreed. I think she did a little jig.

Morgan, Juanita, and Ted drove up just then and Morgan was just as excited. She launched in on turning radius and banks and other things that meant nothing to any of us. She drew a lot of blank stares. She calmed down and remembered everyone was clueless. I suggested she could explain over dinner and suggested she introduce Ted. Before she could, Juanita did, while standing dangerously close to him. I wasn't the only one that noticed because both Amy and Sophia nudged me in the ribs.

We set out on our cruise and just drifted off shore. We'd upgraded the swim platform to hold two waverunners, so everyone took turns having a ball zooming around the boat. Most people swam and jacuzzied. Since we had newcomers on board, suits were worn by all, and we had a ton of loaner suits for our guests. Eventually everyone was back on deck and Ted and Blake set off to fire up the grill. Leslie announced she was going to take Tom and Jess on a tour of the boat and pulled them both up off their chairs. I noticed Alison give her a smirk, and wondered what was up, but Leslie was already walking off, holding their hands and heading down below. I forgot about them after a while, but about 30 minutes later, I saw them come back up the stairs. Leslie's suit was on weird and one nipple was peeking out. I motioned towards her, and she looked down and adjusted it. Jess hadn't even done that well, and her bikini bottoms were on inside out. I scooted over and pulled her back inside quickly. I pointed out the problem and told her to go back down and fix it. She had a look of brief panic so I did the only thing I could think of to calm her down. I reached out, tweaked her nipple, turned her and as I pushed her towards the stairs, slapped her on the ass. She took off down the stairs.

I went out and grabbed Leslie's hand and almost dragged her down to our cabin. After I shut the door, I said: "What the fuck Leslie?"

"Let me tell you a story," she said. "When we came back from flying, I asked if we could walk around the apartment. Tom and Jess were busy, so they just said sure, it's unlocked. We did tour and it is really nice. But you know me, I'm a snoop. I checked out the medicine cabinet - nothing interesting, but Jess is on the pill. I found something under the mattress when Alison and I sat on the bed. There was a manila folder and I pulled it out and it was full of pictures. Over her objections, we looked at them. They were amazing. They were pictures of Tom and Jess with three or four other people. No, not just people, kids. Looked like a couple boys around 9 and 10 and a couple girls around the same age. Let me tell you, I learned a few new positions from those pictures. They were hot. I knew we had new friends but had to figure out a way to bring up the subject. I figured actions spoke louder than words, so I took them into my cabin and shut the door and locked it. I think they knew that sound because they both turned around quickly. By the time they did, I'd shucked my suit and was naked. They're eyes got big and I just said, "Fuck me, you know you want to". So, they did. Very well, I might add. Their oral skills are impressive, and Tom has a very nice thick cock, I'd say about 7 inches, and uncut. Let's just say it filled me up and I'd still be dripping into my suit if they didn't both lick it all out. I showed Jess my skills too, and I know she enjoyed it. So, new friends."

I gave her a little bit of a hard time because she should have discussed it first, but knew it was just a word salad. She'd done OK and they were hot.

We went back onto the deck and as soon as we did, Juanita grabbed my arm and turned me right around and took me to a quiet corner. Amy followed us in.

"I need to talk to you both. I need advice," said Juanita, her voice almost cracking. "Ted is so nice and he just asked me out on a date. I said yes, but now I don't know. I think I need to tell him the truth, but don't really want to just blurt out that I have a cock. What do I do? I haven't dated!"

We thought for a minute and then I jumped in. "Well, you have a few choices. You could take him down to a stateroom, get him naked, then strip and offer him your cock. That could go well, or not. Another choice would be to let me have a quiet conversation with him and share the truth. That's probably the simplest solution."

"You'd do that for me?" she asked. I assured her I would and proceeded to do just that. I cornered Ted and asked him for a minute. I took him into the lounge.

"OK, Ted, Juanita has asked me to help her out. It's a potentially uncomfortable situation, but doesn't have to be," I said. "Juanita is smoking hot and a wonderful woman, isn't she?"

"It seems you have an interest in her, but there is something you should know. She used to be a he and is still packing. As in fully functional," I said.

He laughed. "I know," he said. "I'm pretty sensitive to things like that. I'm bi, and I think it is hot as hell. I like her, a lot, and want to get to know her, but if we proceed there, that's a win, not a loss. A big win."

I was a little surprised, but pleased. He went on, apparently gambling a little in the process.

"Do you know it is fully functional from experience?" he asked. "I've noticed that everyone on this boat is pretty damn friendly, even the kids. I will admit, which is a bit risky, that Morgan and Leslie are little hotties. I saw Leslie come back out with Tom and Jess and it was pretty obvious Leslie had just been fucked. Oh, and Orlando is sexy as fuck. If only I had an opportunity with that too. I can see that threesome now. If I just offended you, I apologize, but I'm a pretty blunt guy. Hell, you're hot as hell too. I can just imagine a threesome with you and Juanita. Enough cock for us all. But then again, add in Morgan and Leslie..." He drifted into silence, afraid he had just fucked up.

"We'll see," I said, and left it at that. We went back upstairs and found Juanita and I dragged them into a corner.

"OK, you too. It's all good and there are no surprises. You can dance around the issue for a while and have some nice dinners, or you can be smart, head down to a nice stateroom and fuck each other's brains out and get it out of the way. That's the approach I would take. Oh, and Juanita, he has expressed an interest in broader play, and I am sure you get my drift. If that interests you, feel free to invite others to join you. Everyone on board is cool. Just be discreet," I said. I left after seeing big grins. They started chatting quietly, my guess is choosing who to join them. Nope, they disappeared together. Guess that first fuck had some allure.

About 30 minutes later, I was chatting with Tom and Jess, admittedly fantasizing about getting them both in bed. I had been blunt and asked them if they enjoyed Leslie. After some initial stammering, they both grinned and admitted yes, she was amazing. Just then I saw both their eyes go wide. I turned to see what they were looking at, just as Juanita walked quickly out on the deck. Nothing unusual about that, well, except that she was stark naked. She was quite a sight. Firm breasts jutting out, nice cock swinging in the breeze. So much for discreet. Yes, probably eye bugging for Tom and Jess. We watched her searching a bit and finally target Sophia. She went over and whispered in Sophia's ear, which got her a big grin back. Sophia went and found her kids and we watched as all three of them followed Juanita back downstairs. We ALL watched all three of them head downstairs. Apparently, this was an unconscious trigger because when I turned back, I noticed that Leslie was standing there naked. We all noticed Leslie was naked. This got a bit of reaction, and soon everyone was naked, including Tom, Jess, and me. Our newest guests were as attractive naked as they were clothed, and I'll explore that, but let me take this on a tangent. I don't normally tell stories from watching the video because my stories tend to be more about things I have been involved in or personally observed, but I think I'll make an exception. OK, I admit I wanted to see Ted naked, but still.

I watched as Juanita brought the three newcomers into the room. Ted was laying back on the bed, gently stroking his cock. He smiled as he saw who Juanita had brought with her. I'm sure he appreciated the girls, but I suspect Luca was his target. Juanita surprised me and pointed at Elena. She hopped up and starting sucking Ted's cock, getting him completely hard. She then had Elena sit on Ted's face and let me tell you, he went to town. Juanita and Sophia then lifted up Ted's legs, giving Luca access. Yep, called it right. Luca slid in and started pounding away. What got my attention was that Sophia and Juanita took a spot next to that action and got into a spirited 69. I realized that Sophia wasn't aware of Juanita's, um, equipment but from watching the video, she clearly liked it! I stopped watching at that point, but it was damn hot. Oh, and I had permission to share that from all of them.

He was being such a dick

"OK, I am ready for the next step," she said. "I've done my homework and the plane I want is the Cessna Citation M2. I confirmed the factory has one available and we can pick it up immediately. They have a two-week certification program, onsite, in Wichita. Alison and I would go together, and both enroll. I suspect I'll have to fight them for a spot, but money talks, and I'll make it a condition of the sale. I plan on flying it home. It's $4.5 million, so actually cheaper than the King Air. I'd say sell the King Air, but Tom and Jess need it, and their hourly fees should come close to covering the amortization, but we'll be paying ourselves because a lot of those hours will be me. Even though I'm moving up to jets, I need hours in everything. In fact, since I can only fly the jet with an instructor, I'll put a lot more hours on the TTx and King Air, because after today I can fly alone."

Leslie, Jess, and I arrived at the local FAA office. Leslie had all the required paperwork filled out and ready to go, including her detailed logbooks. All her instructors had properly signed, and Jess was along to do address any questions because the certifying instructor on both the single and multi-ratings. Leslie had decided that was easier than bringing Alison along too. She had made an appointment but hadn't given them much in the way of details.

Our appointment was with Mr. Donaldson and surprisingly, we were ushered right into his office. He gave us a funny look, looking at Leslie, then Jess and me, the back to Leslie. We all sat down, and Leslie handed him all the paperwork. He carefully read through it all before responding.

"This can't possibly be correct and there is absolutely no way I will sign off on this. Never," he said. "11? and you've supposedly put in 160 hours, over 100 on a King Air. This has to be fraudulent. I'll have your license," looking at Jess.

"Mr. Donaldson," said Leslie. "I completely understand your concerns and that you find this whole thing unbelievable. However, I am a more resourceful young woman that you may expect. The hours are legitimate, properly documented, and certified by an experienced instructor, who co-owns the flight school in which I have studied. Furthermore, we have the instructor with us today and she will verify everything that I have submitted in the paperwork. In addition, because a gesture of understanding and good will, I am prepared to take a check ride in both aircraft with you. I did my homework, and know you are also an instructor and certified to train for both single and multi-engine ratings. While the statute has no provision for a check ride requirement, if your comfort level would be increased, both planes are immediately available. You might have heard the sound of a helicopter landing prior to our arrival. It is waiting outside and can ferry us to the St. Pete airport to do the check rides. I'm not suggesting you will require that but wanted to put the offer out there for you. I have absolute confidence that when you observed my flying, your concerns would vanish."

You could tell he was taken aback by Leslie's speech. It put him in a difficult situation. He really had no grounds to refuse the exception and Leslie just provided a method of proof that would be both extraordinary and incontrovertible.

"I appreciate your passion, young lady, but it doesn't matter. There is no way I am approving an exception for an 11-year-old in a single engine plane, let alone a multi-engine rating. Just won't happen," said Mr. Donaldson. He hadn't figured out he was beaten yet.

"I see," said Leslie. "Well, here's the problem. I've researched the regulation under which the exception falls. It clearly outlines the requirements, which I have not only met, but exceeded. It has no minimum age requirement. I am sure that my situation was not anticipated, but the facts are I have done it. More complicated for you, Mr. Donaldson, is the statute has no exception, no out at all, for the fact that you don't like it. You are required, by the statute, to approve it. I offered you, through my own generosity, to prove my skills to you. Your stubbornness is admirable, I suppose, but, in the end, wasted breath. We are more than prepared to litigate. In fact, our attorney is waiting for our call and is at the Federal courthouse. We anticipated your reluctance and were prepared for that as well. We don't like that we have gotten here, but apparently, we have. You have two choices. Sign on the last line of the paperwork sitting in front of you, or be a part of a lawsuit, and named personally in it. We are asking for both the approval and for monetary damages, and those would be damages for which you are personally liable. You see, our family's pockets are deep -- deeper than you can imagine -- and my Dad here supports my goals, just as I am confident that your parents supported yours. I will also forewarn you that I will be in Wichita next week going through the training for the Citation M2. Once completed, I will fly directly to this airport to file for my exception for that aircraft. It is entirely and completely up to you. We don't want to be your enemy. We want to work with you. Today will go down in FAA lore. An 11-year-old multi-engine rated pilot. In 2 1/2 weeks, it will be a jet certified 11-year-old. My goal was jets by 16 and I have handily beaten that. Jess will assure you I am damn good at this. So, what will it be, your career and your savings or your signature? Think it through quickly."

With that, she pulled out her cellphone, speed dialed a number, and put it on speaker. She set the phone down, just as the phone was answered.

"Mr. Jenkins," said Leslie. "This is Leslie as you know. We are here with Mr. Donaldson and at a bit of a stalemate. Are you at the courthouse and ready to file?" His voice came through the speaker and he assured her he was prepared and in position.

Damn, she really had thought this through and planned. Oh, and our attorney apparently takes orders from Leslie. This was take-no-prisoners negotiation and I had not opened my mouth.

"OK, Mr. Donaldson, it is your move," said Leslie. "I've played my hand and it is entirely up to you. Sign the form and we'll all shake your hand and leave, including Mr. Jenkins from the courthouse. Refuse again, and it will get ugly. Very ugly."

Mr. Donaldson sat back, with an angry look on his face. There was silence for well over a minute and I was again impressed with Leslie. She understood the power of silence. and just waited him out. Finally, he sat forward and turned to the last page and signed his name, on both applications. If you can sign angrily, he did, but suddenly it appeared if calm washed over him. He finally spoke.

"OK, I signed, against my better judgment, but in the end, you're right. I didn't have a choice. You probably saw me calm down, and I did. You are an impressive young woman, who clearly planned for every eventuality in outcome. If you plan your preflight as well as you did this meeting, I have no doubt you will be, and likely are, an outstanding pilot. The mere fact you have access to hours in a King Air is extraordinary and if you're serious about the M2, then I'll be damned. You are right about being a part of FAA lore. We'll talk about you for years. Just make damn sure that conversation doesn't end with you plowing one of those aircraft into a mountain," he said.

With that, Leslie hopped up, thanked him, and stuck out her hand. That surprised him, but he shook her hand, with a bit of a grin on his face.

With that, we left his office, filed the signed paperwork and in a short time, we left with Leslie's pilot card, complete with multi-engine rating. We dropped Jess at the St. Pete airport and then Alison flew back to the house, where everyone cheered the news. Sophia and her kids were back in Italy, so for once, dinner was just our family. Even Alison and Blake had other plans.

Oh, one more thing. At dinner Leslie shared that our attorney was nowhere near the courthouse and hadn't prepared any lawsuit. They were prepared to do so, but it had all been a bluff -- that worked.

And I'll use that as the end of this entry. Leslie has asked if she can go next, and given her performance today, how could I not agree?

Leslie's first flight was amazeballs

Yeah, back to me. That was fun taking out that FAA guy. He didn't have a chance.

So, Dad wants me to tell the story of why I wanted to learn to fly. Happy to do so, but be warned, if you're just here for the sex, there isn't that much. Oh, there is some, of course.

The origin to my story is that I'm tired of being an adult trapped in a child that is chronologically 11-years-old. Yeah, yeah, pompous of me, but I think there is some truth to it. I've grown up fast and I'm very mature. Certainly, more mature than Orlando! Well, OK, that's not saying much. He's a boy that just went through puberty. His brain isn't even connected anymore.

We live in paradise, and we're blessed with plenty of money. OK, that's an understatement. We have shit tons of money. Can't spend it all money. It's cool and all, but I don't get to play with the toys. I can't legally drive the boats or ride the waverunners or drive a car. It sucks. I drive the boat a little and the waverunners some, but don't have freedom. When we were on our way back from Italy in the big jet, I was bored and wondered about flying a plane. Well I'll be damned. Within some defined rules, I could damn well do that. So, I really started doing my homework. If I was going to propose this to Dad, I had to have it rock solid. After all, it was a ton of money, even to us.

First, I figured out all the details of hours and certification. Then I worked through the stages, from single, to multi, to jet. Then I found out the youngest to do it all. My only shot at youngest for something was jets. Single was long gone and even multi had been done. But not jets. My next step was finding planes and instructors. I won't repeat it all here because Dad was pretty clear with it all, but in the end, it revolved around Tom and Jess kind of sucking at business. Bad for them, good for me. I had researched the best aircraft choices too, and sure enough they had the TTx and the King Air. I might have compromised, but I didn't have to. What Dad doesn't know yet, is that we aren't buying a G650. We could, but they're $70 million. I did my homework and the Boeing BBJ convertible was that we leased was for sale, for $28 million. I'm willing to bet I can get them lower. Now I know what you're thinking. The BBJ is a 737 airliner at its core. That's expensive, but the operating costs aren't that bad. The G650 is around $5K an hour. The BBJ is $8K an hour. The savings of $42 million in the purchase pays for a lot of hours at the $3K an hour difference. I'll still need the Citation to get my rating. OK, I'm getting ahead of myself.

So, I'll pick up the story of my first flight. I'd just spent millions, so I sure hoped I liked flying! Alison started the lessons right away. She told me I had a ton of classroom and studying ahead of me but knew the first thing I wanted was to be in the air. So, we hopped in the TTx, which is a cool little plane. She taught me how to walk around it and ensure it was ready to fly, including checking the fuel. She showed me the preflight check list and made me run it with her several times. The last time, we actually started the engine. She had me in the co-pilot's seat and had me gently hold the controls while she took off. Once we were in level flight, she even let me fly. The concepts just seemed to click for me, and Alison told me I was a natural. She quickly landed the plane and then lined up again for takeoff.

"OK, Leslie. You're up. I'm folding my hands in my lap and you're taking off. Take us through the landing leg like I just showed you. I'll handle the radios but you're taking off, bringing us around, and landing the plane. Without me," said Alison.

What I wanted to say was "are you fucking nuts?" Seriously, other than a few banks and turns, I hadn't done shit. But I'm 11, so what the fuck, nothing is impossible. She advanced the throttles for me and I just aimed down the runway. She said rotate and I gently pulled back. We were in the air! I took us up to 3,000 feet, and the started the circle, or more like a rectangle. Alison helped me with when to turn and shortly I was descending, aimed at the runway. I was really concentrating and at just the right moment, I flared, and we kissed the ground. Alison had me pull off onto the taxiway and we found a quiet place to stop.

"You did it," screamed Alison. "That was an amazing takeoff and landing. I didn't actually think you could do it. I thought you'd have me take over. You rode on ONE circuit, and then did it yourself. That's just not possible." She leaned over to give me a hug and I leaned into it. We got a little carried away, because we kissed for a solid minute or more, tongues and all. I even groped her a little. Hey, wouldn't you? Well, we were celebrating.

"Seriously, what you just did is crazy. I took off the first time at about hour 8. I landed at about hour 15. I did the circuit by myself at about hour 20. You did it in the first hour. We're going to spend the day doing circuits like that. We have about four hours to play with, so let's get back up," she said.

So, we did. I lost count of the number of circuits we did. About halfway through, we both needed to pee, so we taxied over to the hanger. My hanger. We shut her down and chocked the wheels and went inside. Alison told the story to Tom and Jess, who at first didn't believe her. Once they realized it was for real, but both gave me strange looks, but congratulated me. Since we were on break, and they were about to start a class in the other plane, I asked if we could wander through the apartment for a minute, since I'd barely seen it. I meant it that I was going to overnight here. I wanted maximum hours. Alison and I climbed the stairs and looked around in more detail. It really was a nice apartment and Tom and Jess had nice taste.

Finally, we sat for a moment on the end of their bed. We knew they had class, so we, um, took a break. We kissed a bit, then I slid the straps off her shoulder and bared her magnificent breasts. As I moved a little closer, I felt something. It felt like something was under the mattress. Being me, I couldn't resist, and I lifted the mattress. Sure enough, there was a file folder. You know, the regular manila folder. Completely and entirely not my business. I shouldn't look. We shouldn't look. So, we looked. Come on, wouldn't you?

To say what was inside surprised us would be like saying that the second coming of Jesus happens on every third Tuesday. The folder held pictures. Pictures of Tom and Jess. Nothing special, right? Oh no, these were special. These pictures included four kids. Two boys, around 9 and 11 and two girls around the same ages. None of the people in the pictures had clothes on. Who needs clothes when you're fucking and sucking so much? Let's face it, I'm 11 and I'll pretty much fuck anyone that breathes, but it is always surprising to find others that do too. Let me tell you, in those pictures, everybody fucked, sucked, and licked everybody else. At one point I couldn't even SEE Tom in the picture, because there were so many naked bodies doing nasty things to him. I did like his nice thick cock, which was probably around 7 inches and cut. I was going to play with that cock soon, one way or another. The kids even showed me some positions I'd never seen before. Imagine a young girl doing a hand stand against a wall. It would open her right up, wouldn't it? A great opportunity for the older boy to fuck her. I have got to try that. In another one, Tom was standing, and it looked like he was bouncing the younger girl on his cock. He was holding her under her ass, and she was impaled on his cock. Later there was the same picture, but this time it was the younger boy on Tom's cock. Jess clearly loved it all too. At one point the two young boys were doing DP on Jess. Later on, the older girl. I don't know if these were all from one session, but the amount of cum on everyone's bodies was impressive. After one last look, we put the pictures away, because their class would be ending soon, and we'd been up there awhile. I would have liked to have gotten Alison off, but that would have to wait. So, we filed this new information away for the future, and headed back downstairs.

We climbed right back into the plane and practiced all day. I think Alison was as excited as I was. By the end of a long day, I had 9 hours in my log book. My first entry and it was NINE freaking hours.

Mom brought me over the next day because I was going to fly with Tom and Jess. They took turns in two hour blocks all day long and I just didn't want to stop. We started at 7 in the morning and I flew for 12 hours. Yes, 12 hours. We didn't finish until almost 9 at night. Dad came to pick me up and it was clear he was as excited as I was. He heard about the day from me, but also Tom and Jess.

"I've never ever seen anything like it," said Jess. "I've been flying and teaching for a long time and I've never seen anyone learn to fly faster or better. The fact that she is 11 makes it all the more stunning. She is an amazing young woman, Bob. She is two days into flying and has 21 hours in her log book. She is so good that I would feel comfortable with her soloing today. She doesn't need the instruction. I'm just along for the ride," said Jess. "I'm shocked."

"Not to pile on, but Jess is spot on. I'm sure Alison agrees too. Alison told us that Leslie did a perfect landing after only seeing her do it once and we didn't believe it. We figured she was exaggerating. She wasn't. Seriously, the best pilot I have ever trained, and I've trained young students that went on to fly fighter planes - F16s, F18s and more. I would put her up against them, at the same number of hours, and she'd kick their ass. Repeatedly. We've already been through all the complex crises, including some pretty hairy stalls, and she handled them all. She is the coolest pilot under pressure I've ever seen. NOTHING rocks her. I put the plane into a stall, in a spin, pretty early on. She had already handled every stall required, so I upped the ante. I didn't even take my hands off the controls because I KNEW I'd have to take over. I didn't. She recovered from that stall, in a spin, faster than any pilot I have ever seen. All pilots, me included, have to gather ourselves, assess the situation, make decisions, and act. That might just take a few seconds, but you have to do all that. Leslie doesn't. She just does the right thing. Every time. I don't want her to get cocky, because cocky kills, but seriously, the best pilot I have ever seen."

"I know she'll be back here tomorrow, bright and early, for day three in the continuing saga of pilot Leslie. Tomorrow we switch to the King Air. She's ready," said Jess.

Wait, what? Did she just say I got to fly the King Air tomorrow? The King Air! A twin on my THIRD DAY! I'll be damned. I'll be gol-darn damned. I couldn't believe what they were saying. I'm nothing special. I just love to fly and the things they do to throw me off are simple. All those steps to get out of a stall? Come on!

"One more thing," said Jess. "The King Air won't take her long. She's off this week, and unless you object, we'll be at the FAA, making the single engine petition by Wednesday. She needs more hours for the twin, but at the pace she is going, if she wants to keep it up, we'll be back at the FAA a week later certifying her for the King Air. I'm that confident."

"Yeah," said Tom. "That means if you're serious about a jet certification, you'll need a jet in less two weeks. We can't lease or rent one. No one would ever do that if they knew a kid was going to fly it. We can't risk our licenses lying; we won't risk our licenses. So, if you want her in the jet, you have a week or so to buy one and have it delivered here. Normally jet training is done at the factory, or a factory program. They won't take her. We'll argue with them and we think we'll win, but you'll need two things. First, Alison will have to go through the program with her. No way they'll let a kid come alone, if they'll even let her come. The second is she'll need hours. We need to be able to tell them that she'll be flying her own plane TO the training. That will confuse the hell out of them, but it will make the difference. It means that one of us will have to ride shotgun and fly home commercial, but we think that's the tipping point. If she and Alison go through together, they can fly the plane home by themselves. Leslie can even fly left seat, with her training certification. There is a class on the first of next month. I know she'll be back in school, but I'd pull her for a week. Either just do it, or get the school involved. Surely they'll agree it is a science special project. Remind them that every single article about this young phenom, and she is, will include the name of her elementary school. If the school doesn't buy in, the district sure will. Remember though, your anonymity will be shot. I hope that's OK, because if it isn't, you're going to completely kill her dream and that would be unforgivable. She IS THAT GOOD."

OK, this was embarrassing as hell, but wow, wow, wow. The jet in two weeks and class next month? Fly myself to and from. You can't make this shit up. Time for me to jump in.

"Uh guys, I am standing right here you know. While all of this flowery praise is fun, you're missing the point. I love this. I love every minute of it. I will be the youngest to ever fly a jet, fly it solo, and certify in it. The current mark is almost 18-year-olds and they didn't certify, just got to a solo. I will blow that mark away at a level that I don't plan on every being matched. But that means we need a plane and I already found it. It's a better deal than the factory plane. Can we go buy it now please? It's in Orlando. We can take one of the planes over or Alison can take us in the helicopter. It's a Cessna Citation Mustang, so their smallest jet. 5 passengers plus two pilots. They're asking $950K. The bank owns it. Very similar to the helicopter. I plan on offering a wire of $750K. They might not take it, but I'll bet they do. Can someone please fly me there now?" I said.

After laughter all around, we decided to fly over in the King Air, with both Tom and Jess. That way we could fly the Mustang back if they agreed. It really only took us a few minutes to fly over to the Orlando Executive airport. Tom, Jess, Dad, and me. He got the money ready on the way over. We pulled up to a hanger that was a lot like, well, ours and the Citation was sitting right inside the open doors. We pulled right up and as we all got out, a man in overalls came out, wiping his hands on a rag. I walked out ahead of everyone and no one seemed that inclined to stop me.

"Are you Joe Thompson?" I asked. He replied he was. I knew he was the owner of the hanger and a part-time airplane broker. I knew everything about him and everything about the plane. So, I got right to it.

"I understand you have a 2009 Citation Mustang for sale," I said, pointing at the plane. "Is that it?"

"Sure is, who's asking?" he replied. I introduced myself and shook his hand. I was impressed he didn't hesitate and shook my hand like an adult.

"I'm Leslie and I'd like to buy the plane today and we'd fly it home. We're prepared to wire transfer $750K to the appropriate account within the hour," I said.

"Well," he said with a drawl. "The asking price is $950K. I don't think we can do $750K. That's a pretty big discount."

"Yes, you can," I said. "It's a bank repo, it's been sitting in your hanger for over four months and as far as my research shows, the interest level is near zero. These planes are a dime a dozen because formerly wealthy people can't afford them. The bank wants it off their books, you want it out of your hanger, and you want your 10% too. Which is better 10% of $750K or 10% of nothing? Make the call to the bank. Let them know an escrow account has already been setup in your bank, with my Dad's name on it, with the full offer," I said, pointing to Dad. "We shake hands and he releases the funds."

His eyebrows rose, but he pulled out his phone. He stepped to the side, but we could hear snippets of the conversation. Things like "it's a damn kid" and "escrow account" and "the money really is there?"

He turned, with a somewhat incredulous look on his face. "Release the funds and the plane is yours. You don't even want a test flight?" he asked.

"You're going to write a 30 day return policy into the contract. If we find anything valued at more than 10% of the plane wrong, you take it back. Otherwise we own it. That won't happen. I've checked the maintenance records and it is low hours for its age. Your reputation helps too," I said. I nodded at Dad and he pulled out his phone and made a quick call. Within less than a minute, Joe's phone buzzed with a text.

"The paperwork can come later. Email it to Dad's attorney. You have the money, so just give us the keys and the log books."

So, he did. Which is why I got to ride home in a 'new to us' Citation Mustang, in the co-pilot seat, with Jess flying Captain.

As we were walking towards the Citation, Joe called out to us. "Leslie, you know I already knew who you were. You already have a reputation around Florida. I'm willing to bet you flew that King Air in yourself and I saw that landing and it was flawless. We're all rooting for you with the Citation certification. You'll be even more famous than you are now. I wasn't planning on going under $800K on that plane, but you're one persuasive kid. Good luck to you and come back and say hi in the Citation when you're certified."

"You didn't know?" said Joe. "That's funny. I suspect it all started when your family bought the helicopter from Mick. But it was the day you bought two planes and a hanger that really set your reputation on fire. I don't blame Tom and Jess. They really didn't share the story much, but somehow it spread. At first it was an urban legend. Yeah, sure, an 11-year-old girl spent millions. But then we started hearing about your flying, mostly from air traffic control. Your voice on the radio is pretty well known. The fact that you moved up to the King Air in a week is astounding. No, it's more than that. It's categorically insane. You must be something special."

"You have no idea," commented Tom. "She is the best I have ever trained, and it isn't even close. I put her into a flat spin, one that I admit even made me a little nervous, but the TTx is forgiving. I didn't need to worry. At all. I've never seen someone react like she did. I don't think we did a full 360 before she was out of it. She even knew her course when she came out. She must have a gyro in her head. It was unbelievable. She did a touch and go her second time around in the TTx. I really mean that. Her instructor did it once. She did the second one. None of us have flown a minute since. The FAA will never know, but I have no doubt she will fly Jess home in the Citation. Pure speculation because I won't be there, and Jess won't talk, but she can do it. I have zero doubt. At this rate, she'll be flying the space shuttle in two months."

I'm pretty confident I was blushing at this point. I really didn't know what to say, so I just smiled meekly. All this praise. Surely, I wasn't that special, was I? The spin was a hoot, but pretty simple to pull out of. Can't everyone? Well, I guess not. I've seen Top Gun. They didn't pull out of one, did they?

With that we headed to our planes. Tom and Dad went to the King Air and Jess and I went to the Citation. No witnesses, I guess. Tom was right. I flew it home. For the most part it flew just like the King Air, just a little faster and a little more responsive. I didn't know any of the electronics yet, but I'd learn. We flew VFR, so mostly it was looking out the window. Jess had me fly out over the Gulf for a while, so I got a solid couple hours in the left seat. We talked while I flew and realized that with my hours, even without the exception, there was nothing legally preventing me from flying the Citation as long as Jess was in the co-pilot seat. So that was the day I logged my first official hours in my logbook in a jet. My goal had been sixteen. I was eleven. I'd done it in less than three weeks. Space shuttle here I come.

We finally landed, even though I didn't want to. Tom and Jess insisted that I take a break. They were worried about me. I agreed to lunch, but after that, I was back in the left seat of whatever they'd let me fly. We'd done the research on what I could and could not do, so that afternoon I soloed in the TTx. Piece of cake. If flew to Ocala, did a few touch and goes, then flew down to Sarasota and did a few more. Then I flew over to Orlando Executive, did a half dozen, but did stop in the say hi to Joe (well, and use his bathroom).

Which is how I found myself in front of the FAA examiner, that Wednesday, with paperwork and log book in hand. I'd really pushed it and had the hours for the Citation and that's what he needed to sign. Not surprisingly, he was a dick. Again.

"No fucking way am I signing this," he said. "I'm just not. You can't have the hours. You can't have the experience. You just can't."

"With all due respect, SIR," I said. "Look at my log book. I have exceeded the minimum hours for signoff. For a jet, you are entitled to require a signoff flight. I am prepared to do it, right now. I've got a Citation Mustang sitting at the FBO and I assure you, you'll pass me in that too."

"What the fuck," he almost screams. "You have hours in a Mustang! You're not allowed to do that. You can't do that."

"I assure you I can, and I do," I said. "I know the regs, apparently better than you do. I have the hours in the Citation, with my instructor. I'm damn good at this as Jess will attest, but you already know. My reputation precedes me. I'm a better pilot than you'll ever dream of being, so stop fucking with me and sign the damn papers. If you want to continue to be a dick, fine, let's go fly. I can do it, we both know it, and you're wasting both of our time. I'll even bet you knew all this already, because I'm confident you're connected to enough people around this airport to have already heard the stories. So, stop cussing at me, because I'll match you word for word, and either sign the damn forms or get your ass out of that chair and into an airplane. You can fly right seat because I am damn well flying left."

OK, it might have been too forceful, and my voice is a little squeaky for authority, but it sat him back in his chair. What he did next was unexpected.

"You are everything I continue to hear you are, but I didn't believe it. You are one tough woman, in a pint size body. Damn, I am impressed. Yes, your reputation precedes you. Yes, I was pushing your buttons, well, because I wanted a measure of you. You're freaking 11 and you're flying hardware that most pilots dream of. I had to know. I just had to know," he said. "The stories are just not believable so yes, we're going to take a check ride. I am not signing those forms and having them bite me in the ass. I'm going to go up with you and you're going to prove it to me. I hope you meant it that you can fly the Citation, because that's what we're taking. I can tell you'll be flying it solo soon, so prove it to me and I'll sign the forms and you can do it today. You're going down in history young woman and I might as well be along for the ride."

Damn, that was not what I expected, but with that we all piled into the car and crossed the airport to the hanger. I did the exterior pre-flight, with him tagging along. Jess and everyone else got out of the way. This was my show and they knew it. He and I got in the plane, strapped in and put on our headsets. I ran the checklist and I know damn well I did it flawlessly. He had a notebook but didn't write anything down. He just watched the show. Once complete, I fired up the engines and asked for clearance from the tower.

My guess is that all this drama had spread, because not only was I given clearance to taxi, I heard the tower tell an American flight that was staged on the runway to hold because a private flight had expedited clearance. I was told to taxi around them and line up on the second set of lines. I didn't need much runway, so that was fine with me. They gave me clearance to take off, so I did my roll and rotated right when I should. I decided to give this jerk a show, so we climbed at a rate that was a bit unexpected to him. At first you could tell he thought I was fucking up, but then the grin appeared.

"You're fucking with me, aren't you?" he said. "You may have the biggest set of balls of any pilot I've ever seen. Nobody fucks with the FAA on a test ride, but you do. This is hilarious. You are one gutsy kid. Take us out about 15 miles and show me some figure eights. I'm warning you, I'm going to fuck with you a bit. I have to."

We went out over the open gulf and he did fuck with me. He started with a simple stall, which was trivial. He worked his way up, starting with a single engine failure. No problem, easy to compensate. Then he shut them both down and wouldn't let me fire them up. I banked and headed back to the airport because I didn't know how far he'd go, but at about 3,000, he let me fire them up. He panicked a bit when only one engine fired up, but then he caught my grin.

"Seriously, you're not starting the second engine?" he said. "Balls of steel. Take us home. You passed. Oh, how you passed."

As we landed, he signed the forms, and as when we got out, he stuck out his hand.

"That was honestly some of the best flying I've ever seen. You handled everything I threw at you faster than I have ever seen. Then you fucked with me," he laughed. "You're a nut, but you're one hell of a pilot. I looked at your log and you did all of this with less than five hours on this plane. What's next, a 737?"

With that, I waved at everyone and climbed back into the plane. I'm sure that caused a stir, but I raised the stairs and hopped into the left seat and fired up the engines and put on my headset.

"Tower, this is NS1323L, requesting clearance to take off. Just call me solo flight one," I said.

The tower responded: "You have got to be fucking kidding me. He signed?" came through the radio. At that point, I think they realized they'd said that on an open mike and reverted to "tower voice."

"You are number two for takeoff, behind Delta. Line up 200 back," they said. I did and watched the airliner taker off. A 727. Yeah, too old. I'll fly newer Boeings soon, I thought.

I duplicated my King Air route, first Ocala, then Sarasota, and finally landed at Orlando Executive. I pulled up to Joe's hanger and shut down the engines. As I came down the stairs, Joe walked out. As I stood there, you could tell he was waiting for someone else to get out of the plane. Then the situation caught up with him.

"Wait, what?" he said. "You're solo? Holy mother of God. You actually got signoff from the FAA? From Doug? He's a dick. How did you do it?"

I told him a bit of the story and he couldn't stop laughing. He asked me if I was really 11-years-old, and I assured him I was.

"You are a force of nature, young lady. I am proud to know you. I'm particularly pleased that airplane went to you. She deserved you. Good luck and come see me again," he said.

With that, I flew back to St. Pete. I thought I'd have to call for a ride, but when I landed, there was a little party going on outside the hanger. They had a grill going and the whole family was there, including Tom and Jess, Alison and Blake, and Juanita and Ted. You go Juanita. When I climbed down the stairs, they all started cheering. It was embarrassing as hell. We hung out for a couple hours, chatting and eating and throughout that time random people kept driving up and coming over to introduce themselves. All had a variation on the 'just had to meet you' theme. It was weird AF, but I guess I was kind of proud. I'd set my goal on soloing in a jet at 16, just a month ago. I did it at 11. I know my family believed in me, but there were lot of people that didn't. About an hour in, who should show up but Doug, my friendly FAA antagonist. He did the unexpected and brought me a nice bouquet of flowers. I was floored.

"Young lady, I think you deserve these. You not only pushed through the effort to accomplish the impossible, but you did it with me being a complete asshole. I underestimated you," said Doug. "Please don't let anybody underestimate you. Somehow, now that I know you a little better, I honestly don't think that will ever happen to you. You just won't let them. Never change."

Wow, that was so nice. From asshole to supporter. That's gotta be a new one. Even Joe called him a dick. He's going to ruin his reputation.

After way too long, it was time to head home. Alison had brought the helicopter over. We all piled in and she offered me the left seat, but I declined and rode in the back. I admit, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. It had been a hell of a few weeks. And in a few days, Alison and I headed to Wichita. To the Cessna factory. They had said no so many times I lost count, so I finally challenged them. I said if I got FAA signoff on the Citation, would they let me in a class? They laughed and assured me they would and to call back in 10 years when that happened. Oh, they sure didn't know me, did they?

The next morning, I called, as soon as they opened. I made sure I got the same person on the phone and asked if they still had two spots in Monday's class. I was confident they did. She said they did, and I started to give him our information. She stopped me.

"You're wasting my time little girl," she said. "I told you and told you cannot take this class underage without your certification. Somehow, I don't think you got that yesterday, now did you?" She ended her comments with a laugh.

"You don't know me, now do you?" I said. "I know you can look up my certifications in the Federal database. I already gave you my license number. Why don't you just get off that high horse you're riding and look me up?" There was a pause and I heard typing.

"Yeah, well clearly you're using somebody else's license. This can't be you," she said.

"Oh, really. Why don't you look at that nice field that says date of birth and do the damn math," I said.

There was silence for a while and then I heard her mutter "I'll be damned" under her breath.

"Seriously? You are certified? That can't be right. No minor has ever been jet certified. EVER," she said.

"Well, there is a first for everything. We want those slots. I've given you all the information. I gave you a credit card. We're bringing our own Citation. Tell me when and where to arrive and I will personally fly the plane. My friend isn't certified yet, but you'll do that for her, so I have to fly," I said. "Count on us being there. I promise you, I will kick ass in your class, just like I have in everything else I have set my mind too. I know those records show I passed my FAA check ride too, so can you just stop and take my damn money?"

Which is how, a few days later, Alison and I took off from St. Pete on our way to Wichita. Class started bright and early on Monday morning, and arrival time was Sunday afternoon. We landed right on time, with a perfect landing, if I do say so myself. We followed the directions of the ground controller and pulled to a stop where we were told to. Alison dropped the stairs and climbed down, and I followed her out. There was a surprisingly large welcoming committee waiting for us. A man and a woman strode up, pretty obviously full of themselves. The rest of the people just hung back to watch.

"Young lady you can just hop right back in that plane and let your baby sitter here fly you home," said the guy. "I don't know what bullshit you pulled, but you're not taking our class, no way, no how."

"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Asshole whoever you are, but I assure you that I will not only take your class, I will finish it with marks that will never again be achieved by a student. You're an insulting little pissant and where the hell do you get off treating my like this without even bothering to introduce yourself? This isn't a fucking no shirt, no shoes, no service. I signed up, paid, have all the proper certifications and just flew the fuck in on a jet that I damn well own. I'm young, but I'm good and you would do yourself a service by figuring that out before your resume has a fucking end date on this job. You do not know just who you are fucking with, but we can do this one of two ways. You can put your damn hand out, introduce yourself and welcome me to the school, or you can march your ass back into that building and pack your fucking boxes because I will make damn sure that your employment ends, for cause, in about 10 minutes. You doubted me and I proved you wrong. I am the youngest jet pilot in history, and I will hold that title for a long damn time. You can be a part of that history or you can BE history and I don't give a flying fuck which one it is. I'm pretty confident you're not the CEO of Cessna, which means you're expendable and someone else will step up. Take your choice. You have about 10 seconds to get that damn hand out, or you. are. finished."

We were clearly at an impasse. However, he had underestimated me. Badly. After about two minutes, I pulled out my cellphone and dialed a number. I had already spoken to the person on the other end of that line and they were basically expecting my call. My impression was they didn't like this douche very much and were looking for a reason to put that end date on this career.

"Bob, this is Leslie. Yep, he's being the douche I expected. He came after me without even an introduction or a handshake. I'm already tired of his shit. Him or me, your choice. I'll sell this damn plane tomorrow and Lear or Gulfstream will get all the publicity. You and I both know what that means, and we've already talked about it. I'm going to put you on speaker, and you can fix this however you see fit," I said.

"Don, this is Bob. You know that by now, right?" said Bob. At this point, Don's face fell. He clearly knew that the Bob he was hearing was the CEO. Don underestimated me. That was stupid.

"Sandy, will you let this young woman in the class?" said Bob. "You better decide fast."

"OK. Don, you underestimated this young woman badly. That's not OK. You knew you were on thin ice and you fucked up. Having a fight with an 11-year-old that showed up in her own plane was your first mistake. Letting her get the better of you was your second. You're done. I've already called security," said Bob. "Get your ass in your office and get out. Now. Sandy, you're in charge, but I already know how YOU treated Leslie and I won't stand for it. That's not who we are. History is being made and we're a part of it. She owns you right now, and she knows it. Make good choices. Leslie, take me off speaker."

So, I did. He didn't have much more to say, and he had trouble saying it he was laughing so hard. It was awesome. He promised to come down in the morning to meet us in person.

I hung up and pocketed the phone and the entire crowd started clapping. It turns out half of them were the instructors and the other half were my fellow students. They didn't like Don much. Sandy had already stormed off, so the group showed Alison and me where the dorm was and where our room was. Dinner was soon but we had a meet and greet first. No alcohol, of course, so I fit right in. I met all the other students and all the instructors. It was nice. They were very good to me and every one of them realized that this class was going to be remembered and they were clearly happy to be a part of it. After dinner, Alison and I went to our room, both fairly exhausted.

We hopped in the shower and, well, woke each other up a bit. Yes, I started it, by soaping up Alison. I tweaked her nipples a bit and then dropped to my knees. I used my tongue from the bottom of her slit up to her clit. I heard her moan. Not tired now, are you Alison? She leaned back against the wall of the shower and I showed her some of my other skills. I kept licking, and inserted one, then two fingers in. I was pretty amped up, so it was pretty fast and furious. Soon she let out a huge moan and sank down a little. I'd never seen her squirt before, but she was pretty turned on. Good thing we were in the shower. I stood and kissed her, and she returned my kiss with passion.

She pushed me away and started soaping me up. She got me squeaky clean, including washing my hair, which I find incredibly sensual. I was on fire and thought she'd do something about it, when she abruptly turned off the water. WTF? She just smiled and stepped out of the shower. I watched her dry herself off, and it was quite a show. She took her time and dried everywhere. Everywhere. She then motioned for me to step out and got a fresh towel and gently dried me off. She started with my face, then bent down and took each nipple into her mouth. My puffies were now nice small A cups, but still with my puffy nipples. I love my nipples. So does she. They got a lot of attention, but she stopped just as abruptly and finished drying me. Finally, she dropped the towel and took my hand and walked me to the bed. She motioned for me to lay down. Who was I to say no? She got between my legs and started licking, much as I licked her. With her left hand, she roamed my nipples, and with her right, she managed to get two, then three fingers in me. She kept getting me close and then backing off, over and over. It was wonderful AND cruel. Finally, she concentrated on my clit and I went off. Oh my God how I went off. I had never had an orgasm that powerful in my life. The culmination of the last few weeks, I guess. I actually pulled a pillow over my face because I didn't want our dorm mates to hear us. Finally, I came down, after what seemed like minutes if not hours, because Alison just wouldn't stop. Every time I was almost down, she took me over the top again. Over and over until I finally pushed her away. I looked down and she was smiling, with her face just shiny with my juices. She slid up my body, rubbing her breasts over my clit, then over my nipples and finally kissed me. We kissed and kissed while she ground against me and we finished by both cumming again, together.

We almost immediately fell asleep, in each other's arms. Luckily, we had set an alarm, because it went off and I don't think we'd even moved we were so tired. We took quick showers and made sure to mess up the sheets on the other bed -- can't have the maids figure it out -- and went down to breakfast before the first of what we killer 10-12 hours days. Much of the class was in classrooms and book work, so after the long days we studied. I had moved so fast in the actual flying, that I did need to catch up on the theory, so it was great for me. The instructors were tough but didn't single me out any more than anyone else, just treated me like a student. We did do a lot of flying, but I think they focused more with me on the academic work, because it was my weakness and the flying was easy to me. Each student's path was tailored, on the fly, so to speak, to their personal needs.

I didn't see Bob until Wednesday, when he came down to have lunch with the entire class. He did pull me to the side, and Alison joined us. He was so nice, and he clearly had relished firing Don, taking advantage of the situation. Bob was really nice, but the gushing was getting old. I guess I had to get used to it.

"So, Leslie and Alison. I know the class ends at noon on Friday, but would you both consider staying over until Saturday?" Bob asked. "We have something special planned and I think you'll both like it. If you'll indulge me a surprise, I'd rather not tell you yet."

We looked at each other and Alison raised her eyebrows, but I took that as a yes and we quickly agreed. I suspected it was some press stuff, and while it was, that wasn't Bob's entire goal and we would soon find out. We made it through graduation and even Sandy had come around a bit. There was a 'best of class' award given to each class and I won it. Not to be cocky, but I knew I would. What surprised me was Sandy's speech. Bob came down for it too, and I noticed they had brought a photographer. So much for anonymity.

After graduation, everyone drifted away, and all the other students left for home. That left Alison and me with Bob and Sandy. I gave Sandy credit. She really came around and later in the week even apologized to me. I gratefully accepted it -- I'm not an ass -- and thanked her for keeping an open mind.

"So, let's all have lunch," said Bob. "But before we do, let's preview your afternoon and maybe your morning tomorrow. We have a lot planned."

Just then a nice-looking older man strode up. He was dressed in what they call business casual but carried himself well.

"Oh, great timing," said Bob. "Let me introduce Bill to you both. Bill is the CEO for Boeing and is joining us for lunch."

Boeing, what the hell was the CEO of Boeing doing here? They're competitors and they're actually like best buds. I don't get it, but you know me, go with the flow Leslie. Yeah, that made you laugh, didn't it? Bob walked us out front and there was a golf cart waiting. He waved me into the passenger seat and Bill and Alison got on the back. Yes, the CEO of Cessna had me sit up front and made the CEO of Boeing sit on the back, and the CEO of Boeing did it. WTF? Boy, I say that a lot, don't I.

We drove for a while because this is a huge complex. After all, it is an airport too. Finally, we drove around the largest hanger I have ever seen, and there was an entire row of airplanes. It looked like a catalog shoot for Cessna. I knew them all, of course, and they were lined up smallest to largest, left to right. There were six Cessna jets. Latitude, CJ4, X, Sovereign, Longitude, Hemisphere. That was cool, but not the truly weird and confusing part. There were two more planes in the line. The first was a Boeing 737-Max9. The newest 737. Not even in service yet. A beautiful airplane, with sexy winglets. However, as big as it looked next to the Cessna's, it was dwarfed next to the 747-8 parked next to it, in white Boeing livery with 747-8 in giant letters diagonally up the tail. That hanger WAS big to hide this puppy behind it.

"Contrary to expectations, competitors can be friends. I've been friends with Bill for 30 years," said Bob. "I thought I'd let him share in the glory of the youngest jet pilot ever."

All of these Cessnas have the same avionics that you've already learned. This afternoon we thought we'd certify you in all six. That would bring you up to seven jets. Even if someone matches your age someday, they won't match your quantity of certifications. But that seemed pretty tame," said Bob.

"That's where I come in," said Bill. "If you willing to put in a fairly late night tonight, I have an instructor here to teach you the avionics that Boeing uses. It's not that different, just on a larger scale. Then in the morning, we'll do the certification flights on the 737 and 747."

I can't have heard that right. I just can't. Alison let out a whoop and shouted "Fuck yeah" which certainly broke my trance and caught the men by surprise. They both started laughing. They assured her they'd be happy to certify her as well on the Cessnas, but the Boeings were my show.

"This IS Leslie's show," said Alison. "I'd love to certify in them all because I plan on flying a 737 pretty soon," nodding at me. "But this is Leslie's show."

So that's how Alison and I ended up in a classroom, near midnight, finally finishing up our Boeing training. We'd both certified on the Cessna's earlier that day. They were short flights and they had two certification instructors, so we just swapped planes around and finished quickly. There was a ton to learn on the 737 and 747, but they were admittedly training us for the minimum. It was still a LOT of info.

Saturday morning was incredibly memorable. They did have a photographer, and they got some great shots of me, and Alison and me, in front of the Cessna fleet, with my Mustang parked in front. Bob asked if he could use them in advertising and while I agreed, he'd need Mom or Dad's signature on the form. That made me laugh because I was about to fly a 747, but I couldn't sign to allow them to use my picture. That's just fucked up.

Then the real story of the morning occurred. This 737 actually had built in stairs and as I climbed up, I realized just how insane this was. Boeing was letting an 11-year-old girl, me, fly their newest 737. The Boeing instructor followed me up and an FAA rep followed him. I got into the left seat and the instructor got into the right seat. The FAA woman (yes, a woman) got into the jump seat.

"I must be fucking nuts," said the FAA woman. "How the hell did they talk me into this?" We all laughed a bit, but there was a grain of truth.

"No one has ever flown this plane without simulator time before," said the instructor. "I don't quite understand why you are, but Bill's the boss. You're fucking 11. I hear you're a prodigy. Prove it to me. No test flight for you. Here's the check list. Go for it," handing me the checklist.

That threw me, which is hard to do, because we were supposed to do a demo flight first. I challenged him on it.

"Oh, this is the demo flight. I just hear you're such a badass that you'll certify on it," he said. "Up for the challenge?"

I was. I could hear the FAA woman muttering under her breath. I think it was the rosary. I ran the checklist, then asked permission to 'light them up'. The instructor just nodded.

"Tower, this is 737-Max9 requesting clearance for takeoff," I said. The tower replied in the affirmative and I grabbed the throttles and taxied us to the end of the runway. I looked over at the instructor, who just nodded. Standing hard on the brakes, I shoved the throttles to takeoff and let up on the brakes. The plane had amazing features and at the right moment, a disembodied voice said "rotate." So, I did. We were quickly cleared to flight level 20, which is 20,000 feet. I took us up and the instructor said to just follow the flight plan, which took us over parts of Oklahoma. All in, it was about a 45-minute flight and he tested me on everything he could. I think I heard a small scream from the FAA woman when he put the 737 into a stall. Apparently, you don't actually do that in an airliner certification, but it wasn't any different and I recovered quickly. Finally, he pulled back the throttle on the right engine, all the way to the stops, effectively shutting it down. I corrected and we were still flying straight and level. He just smiled at bit.

"OK, you can land now," he said, keeping his hand on the throttle, preventing me from bringing the right engine back up to power. I just looked at him and smiled.

"Tower, this is 737-Max9 requesting immediate permission to land. Right engine out, flying on the left. Request emergency crews," I said into the radio.

"Affirmative tower, 737-Max9 on one engine, requesting emergency crews," I repeated. I knew I had to ask for the emergency crew, even though I never had before. It was protocol and I am sure part of the test. The landing went fine. I had landed the Mustang on one engine many times, just testing myself, and other than the size of the plane, it wasn't any different. We rolled up to the waiting crowd. As soon as the plane stopped, or maybe even a bit before, the FAA woman was out of her seat.

"Are you fucking NUTS?" directing her ire at the instructor. "You had her do a one engine landing on a fucking check ride? In a plane she'd never flown before? With under 200 total hours in the air? She's fucking 11!"

"Well, you're damn well certified for the 737," she said. Turning back to the instructor, she added: "Just don't pull that shit on the 747." He laughed.

We put down the stairs and I was the first one down, to sheer bedlam. Everyone was speaking at once, and there was a full fire crew standing nearby, next to a fire truck, complete with flashing lights. Alison, Bob, and Bill literally ran over. They let Bill speak first.

"What happened? How did an engine flame out? You couldn't restart it?" said Bob.

"The engine was just fine," I said, pointing at the instructor. "He just wouldn't let me use the engine."

"Well, I heard she was good, and she is," he said. I hope his job survived that stunt, but given the laughter, I think it did.

"Yes. It's the correct protocol in a one engine landing of an airliner. She would have failed me if I didn't," I said, pointing at the FAA woman. I can't believe I hadn't learned their names yet.

"She's right. I would have. I knew it was a test, but the people on the ground didn't, and she was inexperienced. Regardless, a one engine landing in a 737 requires a fire crew," she said. "I'm pretty damned impressed she knew that and had the balls to call for it. Bigger balls than HE has." pointing to the instructor, who laughed again and quickly agreed.

We had a pleasant lunch before the main event of the day. Everyone spent lunch talking about the one engine landing. Bob even invited the fire crew to lunch. The crew asked me for a photo, so somewhere on their fire station wall, there is a picture of the fire crew, in full uniform, with little Leslie standing in front of them. Yeah, I can call myself little Leslie. No one else can.

As we walked out onto the flight line after lunch, Bob, Bill, Alison, and I gathered around. The instructor and FAA woman joined us. Jim and Maddy, I finally learned.

"OK, here's the plan," said Bill. "You're going to fly the 747 home. You can land it in St. Pete. Alison can fly the Mustang. Jim and Maddy can ferry the 747 back here. If you don't mind, Bob and I will ride along. We'll be your first passengers. We'd love to meet your family."

What? I get to fly cross country in a 747? Holy shit. I, of course, agreed, and they'd clearly already talked with Alison because she had all our stuff packed and loaded into the Mustang. She actually took off a bit before us because we were faster, but also to ensure everyone was at the airport to greet the 747. She didn't tell anyone about the 747, but insisted the whole extended family needed to be at the airport to greet me. They'd already planned on it, which didn't surprise me. They knew we stayed an extra day but didn't know why.

The takeoff was uneventful, and Jim put me through just enough for Maddy to sign off. It's hard to even explain the scale of a 747-8 from the pilot's seat. It's like flying from the top of a tall building. Everything changes. You have to flare for landing with your entire body screaming you're too high. If you don't, you fly the thing into the ground. It had amazing avionics, so the little voice guided me through a lot. The flight was a lot less tense than the previous one, because Jim and Maddy already knew I was a badass.

As we approached Tampa, I got on the radio. On approach, the Tampa tower guides flights into both airports, so everyone in control knew me and knew my voice.

"Tampa control, the is 747 Heavy requesting permission to land at KPIE," I said into the mike. KPIE is the code for the St. Pete airport. Tampa is KTPA.

"Leslie is that you?" came back the voice, completely breaking protocol. I recognized the voice as one of the supervisors.

"Affirmative control. Requesting permission to land 747 Heavy at KPIE," I repeated. The Heavy designation indicates to air traffic control that you're flying a wide body plane. Wide bodies are usually carrying a lot of people and always get special attention. This includes planes like the 767, 777, and 787, but the 747 is the king of the skies, even though it has been retired by almost every airline. Models of the 747 have been in service since 1974, before even Bob and Amy were born. But I digress.

The landing was just as uneventful. It landed just like the 737, which landed a lot like the Mustang. Jets are jets, regardless of the size. We taxied over to the hanger. Alison had made the right phone calls as a stair truck -- literally a truck with stairs -- immediately pulled up. The driver ran up the stairs and after clearing the checks, we opened the door. Again, I was the first one down, clutching my certification paperwork in my hand. Another crowd, another cheer.

Just telling the story wiped me out, so I'll let Bob take up the story from here in his next entry. Let's just say that the party shifted to our house and there was a lot of nudity involved. How else does our family celebrate?

Don't say I didn't warn you that this journal didn't have much sex. Unless you find airplanes sexy, like I do.

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Name	Chapters	Age	Description when introduced	Stats when introduced
Bob	All	23	Dad	6'2" (188 cm) – 165 (75 kg) , swimmer's body, 6–inch (15 cm) cut average cock
Amy	All	21	Mom (and the Nanny, to start)	5'1" (155 cm) – 110 (50 kg) , bright red hair, C cup
Morgan	All	15	The oldest of the new kids	5'5" (165 cm) – 120 (54 kg) , dirty blonde, small B cup, gorgeous
Orlando	All	13	The middle child and the only boy	5'0" (152 cm) – 100 (45 kg) , dirty blonde, 6–inch (15 cm) cut thick cock
Leslie	All	11	The youngest	4'6" (137 cm) – 80 (36 kg) , brown hair, flat–chested
Chris	6,8	11	Boat sales person but becomes more	4'11" (150 cm) – 80 (36 kg) , slim, glorious puffy nipples
Tim	1,2-3,7-8	Twenties	Jim's friend	6'8" (203 cm) – 250 (113 kg) , Black, 12–inch (30.5 cm) cock
Juanita	3,6,8-9	29	Family personal trainer and more	5'9" (175 cm) – athletic, petite, D cup, 5–inch (13 cm) cock
Lance	5,8	Forties	Co–owner, classic car restoration in Clearwater	6'2" (188 cm) – reasonably fit, average cock
Linda	5,8	Thirties	Co–owner, classic car restoration in Clearwater	5'5" (165 cm) – healthy but not fat, firm C cup
Clay	5,8	11	Lance and Linda's son	5'1" (155 cm) – skinny, cute, 4–inch (10 cm) uncut cock
Cindy	5,8	9	Lance and Linda's daughter	4'8" (142 cm) – skinny, smaller version of Clay, flat
Matt	5,8	27	Co–owner, classic car restoration in Clearwater	6'0" (183 cm) – average in every day, including a 5.5–inch (13 cm) cut cock
Terry	5,7-8	9	Matt's son	4'11" (150 cm) – average, 3–inch (8 cm) cut cock
Renee	5,7-8	9	Matt's daughter	4'10" (147 cm) – average, just a hint of puffies
Blake	5,9	Thirties	First home staff. Mechanic, general purpose everything	6'2" (188 cm) – 185 (84 kg) , blonde, ripped, 7–inch (18 cm) thin cock
Alison	5,9	Thirties	First home staff. Chef, runs the house and more	5'9" (175 cm) – tall, athletic, blonde, simply stunning, B cup, model gorgeous
Maddy	6,8	9	Mason's daughter	4'2" (127 cm) – small, flat, blonde and sexy
Antonio	7,8	Forties	Italian Vintner	6'3" (191 cm) – 220 (100 kg) , well–endowed
Stella	7,8	Forties	Antonio's wife	5'8" (173 cm) – voluptuous, A cup
Sophia	7,8-9	18	New Italian friend and Goddess	5'7" (170 cm) – stunning, simply stunning, B cup
Luca	7,8-9	13	Sophia's son	5'9" (175 cm) – chiseled, male Sophia, 6–inch (15 cm) uncut cock
Elena	7,8-9	9	Sophia's daughter	4'5" (135 cm) – sexy AF
Misty	8	10	Leslie's bus friend	4'9" (145 cm) – mousy little girl
Lyle	8	10	Leslie's bus friend	4'11" (150 cm) – super nerd, 4–inch (10 cm) cock
Lanny	8	Twenties	Jim and Tim's friend	6'4" (193 cm) – 225 (102 kg) , muscular, 9–inch (23 cm) cock
Tom	9	Thirties	Flight instructor	6'0" (183 cm) – 175 (79 kg) , trim, 7–inch (18 cm) thick and cut
Jess	9	Thirties	Flight instructor	5'9" (175 cm) – 140 (64 kg) , small B cup, runner's body
Ted	9	Twenties	Cart driving coach	5'10" (178 cm) – 165 (75 kg) – 8–inch (20 cm) uncut and thin cock
Doug	9	Forties	FAA inspector
Don	9	Fifties	Cessna school director
Sandy	9	Forties	Cessna school assistant director
Bob	9	Fifties	CEO of Cessna	5'10" (178 cm) – 180 (82 kg) – 6–inch (15 cm) cut cock
Bill	9	Fifties	CEO of Boeing	5'11" (180 cm) – 190 (86 kg) – 5–inch (13 cm) uncut and thin cock
Jim	9	Thirties	Boeing flight instructor
Maddie	9	Thirties	FAA examiner

6 June 2018

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Morgan races, right?

Planes, carts, and ...

He was being such a dick

Leslie's first flight was amazeballs

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Character information

End of Chapter