Indian Aunty
..”“Yeah, I know.”“But that doesn’t stop you from flyin’ with her. Just means that when she gets with an instructor, she’s gonna probably have more practice.”“Sorta what I figured. You got a problem with doing it that way?”“No,” he said, “but I’ve never did a student in a 182. I know a little 152, over at regional, that a guy’s trying to sell.” (A Cessna 152 was a popular two-seat trainer.)Tina said, “TWO planes?”“Remember when we talked about that, baby?” I turned to Charlie. “Okay, buddy, that 152, what kind of deal is it?”“Pretty good one, actually. Just about what I imagine YOU want to do. He bought the thing to get his hours in, now he’s commercial and all the other tickets, and he doesn’t need the plane. He bought it for fifteen, he’ll take fifteen. And when Miss Tina’s licensed, you can turn around and sell it for fifteen. All her license costs is fuel and an instructor.”I looked at Tina. “If you’re serious...”Squeal!“She’s serious,” Charlie laughed.“When can we look at it?” I. She saw a discarded t-shirt upon the marble floor. The woman hunched over a small table, long blonde curls awry. Plaid mini skirt pulled up to her lower back. Marissa couldn’t tear her eyes from the normally desolate corner of the library. She watched in silence. Her mind numb, half in disgust, half appalled at her own depravity in watching them. She watched the well-toned back muscles of the young man coil and release as he thrust inside the petite perfectly tanned blonde. His brown hair showed signs of sweat, swaying with every movement. The blonde’s white blouse showcasing her ample breasts heaving, strained to get out of her bra from the pounding her body was receiving. Marissa caught her breath, unconsciously licked her lips. Anticipation washed over her. She stood there unabashedly watching. As she watched, her body tingled. She caught herself chewing on her bottom lip. She wondered what it would be like to have been in the young woman’s place. She wished to feel a hard cock.
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