My best sex ever was... with a pilot
A cockpit encounter had Emma* flying high in more ways than one...
I had been on a few dates with Andrew*, and although there was chemistry between us, our flirtation had never really gone anywhere. He was an airline pilot, so his work schedule always came first. Still, we remained in touch occasionally. I enjoyed perving on his Instagram shots from the cockpit and the odd picture of him looking outrageously fuckable in uniform.
I’m a frequent flyer for work, and spend most of my disposable income on weekends away. On one of our dates, Andrew had told me to text him whenever I was flying on his airline, in case he was the pilot. Every time I found myself rushing towards Heathrow, I would drop him a message and hope that his shift would correspond with my sun-seeking escapism. It never happened. Until it did…
As I was boarding a flight to Barcelona, my phone pinged. I looked down to see his name lighting up my screen. “Flight 484, Emma? Welcome on board.” I tried to maintain my composure as I was greeted by an air steward, who upgraded me before handing me a pre-take-off glass of champagne.
Mid-flight, Andrew announced that we would be landing into glorious 26°C heat in under an hour. I suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted the flight to end. We touched down on the runway rather abruptly, making everyone jump (myself included).
Safely back on solid ground, I tipsily gathered my belongings, preparing to disembark into the Spanish sunshine. Then, an air steward lightly touched my arm and said, “Ma’am, could you hang back for a second? The pilot would like a quick word.” As the last of the passengers exited, I was ushered into the cockpit. There he was, laughing and joking about the noticeably bumpy landing with his co-pilot. “I'll give you some privacy,” said his second-in-command, retreating with a grin.
The door swung shut. “Great landing,” I whispered. “That was your fault, your presence distracted me,” he deadpanned, and informed me that we didn’t have long and I’d have to be quiet. I felt my nipples harden as he undid the buttons on my shirt, and I reached down to loosen his belt, unzip his fly and unleash his sizeable cock.
He spun me around, pushing me against his pilot’s seat. Kissing my neck, he prised my legs apart and took me doggy style, one hand pressing into my lower back to arch it, the other over my mouth, muffling my screams. The fact that air traffic control might have been indulging in a spot of voyeurism only heightened the thrill.
We both came, then collapsed in a sweaty mess as a message on the cockpit’s radio rudely brought us back to earth. Rushing to get dressed in such a confined space was a comical conclusion to our encounter, but as I went to leave, Andrew pulled me back towards him. “Fly with me again soon,” he smiled. With that, I turned and half-floated out into the fading Mediterranean heat. They say life is about the journey, not the destination... and for once, I had to agree.
“He spun me round, pushing me against his pilot’s seat”