Mile High Club — Shenanigans!
I’m just trying to run my Business
My father was a pilot and my father’s father was a pilot. I’ve followed suit, except for what type of plane or flights I take on. They were both all about the passengers, while I on the other hand, fucking hate people.
When the odd opportunity came my way to snag up an original, fully functional 1947 Antonov An-2, I took it. It allowed me to continue flying the friendly skies, but limited my cargo to just that, cargo. No people to fuck every thing up.
My business was going good for a long time, until some other larger company fucks moved in on my territory and top transport tickets. I’m way too small to fight them, so I was left with two choices:
Allow my business to slowly go down in flames or, start allowing people and Shenanigans on some of my flights. I fucking hate Shenanigans with a passion, but hate the idea of my business in flames even worse.
I try my best to put on a happy smile, but can’t help but look like a Stewardess with resting bitch face. The latest two people line up for a flight, insisted on posing with Anton and I. Yeah, just like a car, I named my plane. I know, I’m lacking in creativity, but so far, none of my cargo has ever complained.
So it seems that Sesame and Dianne have some kind of To-do or bucket list thing involving riding on all kinds of boats, vehicles, planes and more. When they saw my Anton, they just lost it.
They were over excited to get a ride. Didn’t even matter where I was going. Honestly, their smiles, giggles and excitement made me sick to my stomach and I wasn’t going to take them anywhere . . . and then they offered to double my fee.
“Ok bitchchachis,” the blonde one called Dianne and myself something like that, “Get your asses on board, find a crate, sit down, shut up and don’t fucking touch anything.”
Another reason I shouldn’t be around people. My complete lack of people skills, shine brightly at moments like this.
Dianne asks, “Do you dom on the weekends, because you have the attitude down?”
No idea what she’s talking about, but since she licked her lips at the end of her question, I’ll take it as a complement. As loose as their outfits were, climbing in to Anton, the material tightened up across their asses long enough for me to enjoy the view, before quickly switching back to baggy pants mode.
Me, I’m all about flaunting it if you got it. I not only love the way my form fitting flight suit hugs all my curves, but it has also increased my overall customer base.
Sesame’s nose did a cute little rabbit thing before she commented, “It kind of smells in here. Is that rotten fruit or something?”
I reply, “Animals. Hate to say it, but I was forced to add some random animal transports to my roster to make ends meet. Really despise them in my plane, but nowhere near as much as people. They’re the worst form of animals out there.”
Sesame tried to ignore my comments and find a crate near Dianne to sit on. As I said, people skills aren’t on my list. Want me to fully disassemble and reassemble my 750 kw, 1010 hp nine-cylinder Shvetsov ASh-62 radial engine blindfolded, I’m your girl.
If you want me to be all polite and serve these bitches freshly baked Southwest Airlines chocolate chip cookies and give them an inflight rom-com to watch, laugh and cry to . . . well it isn’t happening on Anton.
Working my way through the crowded aisle to my cockpit, I can hear behind me the bitches whispering, laughing and giggling with each other. Just sickening I tell you! Sickening!
Flying out of the short runway open field, Anton takes off like a champ. The back is pretty full, but nothing back there is too heavy this flight. I’m so happy for the roar of my Shvetsov, because it’s helping to block out their constant chattering and girly giggles.
As on every flight, some random crates slide, tip and tumble during lift off and during my first big pitch and yaw. Both of them fall off their crates and onto the floor. I’m sure there’s some bitching about it, but none from the rest of the cargo.
We’ve only been airborne for a few minutes and I’m already regretting becoming a slave to the almighty dollar. Maybe I should just fly drugs or something way less stressful than having these two pretty perfumed pussies to worry about.
I remember my father preaching over dinner how, “The passengers are always right.” No dad, they’re not. The passengers are what make being a Pilot suck. Glancing over my shoulder, I see they made it back onto one bigger crate.
A second glance and I see their glasses are off and both of them have their zippers all the way down and their breasts hanging out! “Hey! Fucking stop that! Now! Anton is a classic, not some hotel for sluts!”
If I had autopilot on Anton, I’d go back and cunt kick these two out the door. “Parachutes? I’m sorry Judge, your Honor. I swore they brought chutes. Anyway, I had to keep flying, I couldn’t stop them from jumping to their deaths.”
Looking back again and Dianne’s head is blocking my view of Sesame’s breasts. Damit! Don’t get confused now. I said I hate people. I didn’t say anything about not liking a perfect set of breasts.
“HEY! FUCKING BITCHCATCOS!” Really need to ask Sesame what that word was. “HEY! KNOCK IT OFF!”
Had they asked me up front if they could Mile High it for a price, I would have got them a dirty blanket to fuck on. But they didn’t ask and that’s what’s pissing me off. Turning a quick hard left, a crate full of melons break open and roll across the floor.
Dianne now has more melons than she can handle and finally stops sucking on Sesame’s as she once again falls backwards off their love crate. I get a quick view of Sesame’s guns before she falls forward towards Dianne whose face up, riding the melons like she’s being lifted across a mosh pit.
As Sesame falls, she slides out of the rest of her jumpsuit and is now only in the tightest of hot pink bikini bottoms! Fuck! Dianne smacks hard into several more crates, breaking open one full of WWII memorabilia. Shit!
Finally getting to her feet and seeing Sesame beat her to “Bikini Bottoms Only Beach”, Dianne quickly steps out of her jumpsuit also. Her bottoms are the same intense blue as her jumpsuit and fit just as nicely as the blonde’s. Wow!
Half of me wish I were back there with them, while my other half turns hard right. Naked breasts to naked breasts, the two of them fall into the stack of cargo and standard emergency supplies strapped to the wall.
Trying to catch her balance, Dianne pulls on the, “OH FUCK NO!” inflate cord for the emergency water landing life raft! “FUCK!”
As it pops open and inflates in record time, Sesame flies towards the cockpit while Dianne is not anywhere to be seen! The raft is filling Anton from his floor to his ceiling and wild animalistic screams can be heard from behind it.
Sesame looks up just in time to see me grabbing my machete, which I keep sheathed on the side of my seat.
“Oh my god! There’s something alive back here! Help Me!” Is being screamed from behind the raft.
“We’re so sorry, don’t kill us!” Begs Sesame as a glimmer of light shines off my blade.
“I’m not going to kill you bitch! I’m giving you this so you can pop the life raft you two will be reimbursing me for.”
Another even more panicked scream from behind the raft, “LEAVE ME ALONE! OH GOD HELP!”
Sesame grabs my machete and runs to rescue Dianne. For the moment, I keep Anton level so she doesn’t stab herself. Two quick pokes into the raft and the white powder used to prevent the rubber from sticking to itself on the inside, shoots out in clouds of confusion!
The blonde falls onto her back as Dianne, whose hair is covered in freshly smeared poop, runs through the cloud as three non-boomeranging bananas come out of nowhere and hit her in the back of the head!
She falls face down onto Sesame, hugs her, and thanks her before starting to make out with her. Sesame slips a hand inside of Dianne’s tight bikini bottom just as she does the same. Both of their bodies start to shudder!
“Oh My Fucking God! Really? You sluts!”
The bitches are completely ignoring me as they try to quickly bring each other to orgasm! “Nope!”
Pulling back hard, Anton and I aim high as the two reasons I hate people tumble towards the tail. They get caught together in the deflated raft as the bundle rolls into the powder cloud and back within range of the assorted flying fruit.
More crates have joined them as a third of my cargo is now flowing and falling freely inside of Anton’s belly. After fifteen intense warning beeps, the engine stalls and now we’re aiming earthward at an even faster pace!
I no longer have any idea where they are, if they got caught up on something or pulled an Indiana Jones and went out the door in the raft. Sadly, if they did, that raft would just be a rubber wrap to make finding all their body parts easier.
It takes all my might to level out again before we die! Several oranges, a cantaloupe plus a honeydew end up around my feet. Dianne and Sesame pop back out of the cloud, both with shit in their hair and what looks like bits of watermelon dripping down their stomachs, thighs and hairless pussies.
They’re tipping back and forth, almost drunk and fucking giggling again! “Check that box!” Says Dianne, just as a pair slaps her in the back of the head, another banana hits Sesame and then a flare from the WWII crate hits the side of the plane behind them so hard the tip breaks off.
We all stare at it, grateful that nothing, “FUCK!” It lights up next to some clothing donations so Dianne grabs it and tosses it away from the burnable items . . . and right into a pile of much more burnable items!
“FUCKING PUT IT OUT!”
Sesame tries her best to reach it, but the peach to her forehead compliments her peach shaped ass before she can get to it. The juices get into her eyes and all I’ve got now is stumble, fumble and fucked to save Anton from meeting his maker!
Using a canvas belt, I tie off what I can and hope we stay level. Running back, I smack face first into Sesame who smells a combination of watermelon, peach, cocoa-butter lotion, Starbucks and fresh poop.
My D.I.Y. autopilot fails as we go into a spin as all three of us fall and the flare rolls to the other side and into even more flammable items, as in the parachutes! Give me one break please! Just one fucking break!
Looking towards what I think is up, “Dad! See! This is what people do!”
Stopping the fire is no longer an option. The only thing left is getting us back on the ground! Lifting myself up, by pushing a hand on each of their breasts, Dianne gives me a, “Hey!”
“Really? Fuck You!”
She quickly replies, “No, I wasn’t complaining. I wanted more.”
We’re all about to die, and this one just wants more sex. As I head back to the controls, the bitchfanishes go at it once again. Keeping low behind some wayward crates to avoid any more flying fruit while they fuck.
I have to land before we’re all burned to death. With the cabin filling with both smoke and heat, I slide open the window. Another note to dad, something you can’t do in a jet.
With them on the floor and the smoke up high, we’ll make it if I can land quick enough. Looking for an open spot isn’t an option with the time we have left. Pushing forward, I take Anton into a 45 to get less than 500 feet as fast as possible.
Just as I do, the honeydew and cantaloupe roll under my rudder controls, so I can’t push them down! “Fuck! Dianne! Grab the melons!”
Dianne says, “Yes Mistress. Anything you want Mistress.” Before grabbing onto Sesame’s breasts.
OK, so she’s useless. I push down hard to avoid hitting a mountain, causing the melons to break open and the pedals to once again work.
“Now what Mistress? Sesame is moaning.”
The flames were hot enough to crack a window, then blow through and have moved outside to the right wings and tail! Oh God! The strain I’ve put on Anton has blown at least one cylinder and the engine is hardly turning.
Turning off the engine, dumping the fuel, I get set to turn, just as a pineapple finds its way into the pile of melon chunks and again, under my rudder controls. There’s no way I can crush it with my feet! I try again to get Dianne’s help, “PINEAPPLE! GRAB THE FUCKING PINEAPPLE DIANE!”
With there being only one pineapple on board, and hopefully, her not having pineapple as a nickname for any other of Sesame’s parts, Dianne has to grab the one under my feet. She pulls it out just in time as I bank into the only open hole in the jungle below.
“What should I do with the pineapple Mistress?”
“STOP CALLING ME MISTRESS AND YOU CAN SHOVE IT UP” The sounds of metal, trees, crates and bodies flying, may have drown out my last few words, but it still felt good to scream them.
Quickly opening the left side exit, I drag and toss Sesame and Dianne’s naked bodies out onto the ground, just as our path out is covered in flames. Stumbling to their feet, they move to the one area not engulfed in flames or smoke.
They are once again hugging each other and giggling away as my life burns just feet behind me. Shenanigans somehow made it out alive and is sitting on a rock under the right wing. He’s acting like nothing even happened. Fucking Monkey!
If I weren’t so busy aiming my gun at the bitchoramas, I’d switch to shooting Shenanigans in his hairy little ass. Sesame turns to see my gun and how fucking pissed off I am at what they’ve done to check a damn box off a To-do list.
Just as Dianne turns, she lets out a small, “Ouch!” Grabs her neck and falls to the ground. Sesame, seeing what happens, says, “Not again.” Just before grabbing her neck and falling into the arms of six Pygmys that popped out of the jungle.
These tiny-handed, tiny-footed Pygmys break all the rules of hand to cock size ratios. Although they are all closer to four feet tall, they have cocks that would put the tallest of NBA players to shame.
Knowing I’m about to join the girls, I turn to shoot Shenanigan . . . who’s now gone! Fuck! “Ouch!” I drop my gun and crumple into twelve tiny-hands who carry me off into the jungle as I completely black out . . .
© 2023 Zatanna Dark All rights reserved.
Note from Zatanna: “I’m sure you’re frustrated wanting to know what happens next, but this is a story about the Mile High Club. Not a story about naked helpless girls being gang fucked by big cocked Pygmys.”
Looking for a BDSM Erotica Story you’ve been unable to find? Feel free to contact me anytime here on Medium. I’ll do what I can to add one to my Collection. Thanks! Zatanna Dark