Cock Me, Pilot Read online

  Cock Me, Pilot

  Sylvia Fox

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Frisk Me, Officer

  Mentor Me, Professor

  Drill Me, Sergeant

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  Sylvia’s Other Titles

  Drill Me, Sergeant

  Frisk Me, Officer

  Mentor me, Professor

  Cock Me, Pilot

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  Copyright © 2016 by Sylvia Fox

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter One

  There is exactly one reason I'm looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving break. As I stand in this single stall shower in the dorm room bathroom, I can picture it.

  Brett and I, in his bedroom, him stripping me all the way down until I'm standing before him in one of the trashy lingerie sets I bought on impulse last week.

  I'd have on the crotchless panties, thigh high stockings held up by a lace-up, faux leather corset with a sweet heart neckline, pushing my breasts high. He would pull down the cups on the corset, pulling my nipple in to his mouth before pushing past my unbroken hymen and making me a woman.

  Hell, I've literally never even used a vibrator in hopes that Brett would be the first cock--synthetic or otherwise--to enter me.

  Of course, my fantasy is much different than reality. I turn on the water in the shower, as hot as it can go, and lean against the cool tile wall not yet ready to step under the fiery shower stream.

  The reality is, my Thanksgiving break is going to consist of mediocre mashed potatoes at a table set for three. Mom, Dad, and me.

  I'm a college freshman, and truth be told, a few months in and I already know college is not for me. At least not now.

  What I want is to see the world. To travel and experience new cultures and food and people.

  University life may be enough of an adventure for some, but I want to explore right now. Maybe forever. I don't have crazy ambitions like my best friend Kari who is a train ride away attending Harvard. Nope, I am perfectly content working a job that provides enough for me to have a little fun on the side.

  However, a life of leisure and travel--that is another fantasy. And no amount of daydreaming gets me closer to the outcome I want.

  But Brett and me? Hell, we can become fuck buddies in my mind easily enough, and this daydream won't end with frustration. Nope. All I need is my phone and two fingers and I can achieve some satisfaction.

  After stepping in the shower, I grab my phone from the toiletries basket, which is in its eighty-five dollar waterproof case. That may seem like an extravagance for some penny-pinching undergrads, but for me, it was totally worth my work-study pay.

  My roommate never seems to leave our room. Which is problematic since I have a schedule to keep when it comes to getting myself off. Daily.

  Although lately ... it has been more than that. I am basically a fucking horn-dog at this point.

  Of course, other college freshmen ... the ones who don't sit in their dorm room all the time, might go to some kegger and get smashed, sleeping with the first piece of ass that offers themselves up. But that's not my scene. Not because I'm judgmental or a scaredy-cat. No. I just don't want to get myself in a situation where I offer some lame frat boy my V-card.

  Which brings me back to my fantasy.

  I've been saving said V-card for eighteen years. And I sure as hell am not giving it up that easy.

  Because I've been saving it for one very special person.

  Brett.

  It all comes back to him.

  I enter the four-digit code on my phone screen and click on Safari. The browser pulls up and I immediately touch the right-hand button that reads private.

  At this point, I'm guessing most people would think I'm pulling up some shady porn, some Tumblr-for-women feed or something, which would be fine.

  But I'm not most women. And I don't want to get off to some guy I don't know.

  I want to get off to the man who has known me forever.

  I close my eyes briefly as the screen loads. Knowing the tension I've been carrying these last few weeks as I've gone through these stupid exams is going to dissipate the moment I see his face.

  There are times in the past where I thought Brett might have the same desires. Times when I caught him looking at me, his eyes lingering on my legs or tits a little too long to be appropriate. But he has never acted on them.

  This summer, I was sure he wanted to.

  I open my eyes and look at the picture that has loaded. It's a photo from vacation this past summer. The first person I see is my best friend Kerry, in a bikini.

  No, this is not a lesbian best friend fantasy.

  I zoom in.

  The ocean is bright blue, the sand white. The Caribbean vacation Brett took my family on was a dream come true, he flew us in his private plane and we spent a week in paradise.

  But I don't need to see my mom and dad right now either, who are standing next to me. I zoom in again, to get them out of the shot.

  I zoom in until the only people on the screen are Brett and me.

  He has one arm around me, and of course his other arm is around his daughter. But I'm not looking at that.

  I'm only looking at Brett.

  My best friend’s dad in his swim trunks, his chest bare. We'd just come back from a snorkeling trip where we saw sea turtles and dolphins and pretty much any of the magical sea creatures you can think of.

  The magical creature I was thinking of right now did not live in the sea.

  As I spread my legs in the dorm shower, I lift my foot onto the handicap seat, running my fingers up and down my pussy, faster and faster. I use my other hand to spread my pussy lips nice and wide, rubbing myself hard, the way I want, just the way I need.

  The magical creature I am thinking about as I press one finger deep, deep, deep, and the other one right on my hood, is Brett's cock.

  I remember the way his body moved beside me in that warm seawater, everyone was snorkeling up ahead, and I stayed behind pointing at the brightly colored fish in the coral reef.

  I remember the way Brett's hand brushed up against my leg, over my ass, to the small of my back.

  I remember as he pulled me close to him by the waist, pointing at the sea turtle a few feet in front of us. He pulled me in front of him, my ass instinctively grinding against his cock, long enough to know he was hard. Long enough to know he was hard for me.

  I pressed my ass against him, wanting him to put his hand between my legs. My pussy was so tight and desperate.

  But then the water pushed us apart, my blonde hair spread around me underwater, and I looked to his bulge, I saw the outline of his cock in those swim trunks, it was so big and clearly hard, as long as a ruler. I wished he'd ripped off my bikini, right then and there, and fucked me in the ocean.

  That would've been a dream vacation.

  Of course, that didn't happen. The moment we shared was gone as fast as it came. The next day we travelled home, and I left for college.

  And it is probably for the best.

  No more sleepovers
at Kari's house where I could walk to the bathroom in the middle of the night, without any panties on, imagining him finding me in the hall, and slipping his fingers deep into my cunt.

  No more movie nights, where after Kari fell asleep--like clockwork--five minutes into the movie, where I would finger myself alone in the den, under a blanket, so wet and hot knowing Brett was in his bed just a floor above me.

  I've known Brett forever, and he will always be off-limits. And not just because he is my best friend’s dad, but because he is thirty years older than me.

  Divorced, so it's not like I want him to leave his wife for me.

  Which is a ridiculous notion anyways. I am an inexperienced eighteen-year-old, why would he want me?

  This fantasy of us is just that.

  A fantasy.

  A fantasy that makes me come hard and fast, daily.

  I rub two fingers over my clit, so nice and tight with even circles that make me pant as I look at his face in the picture. I gasp, my thighs tremble, my pussy clenches. Brett's eyes sear into mine. His broad shoulders, his rock-solid chest, a ladder of abs that I want to climb up and down.

  I come on my fingers, and I move them to my lips, sucking my juice off.

  I want a man I cannot have.

  I want him to lick my fingers, to taste my juice, to push me on the bed and spread my legs apart and bury his face against my wet pussy.

  But I can't have him.

  So instead, I'll have this fantasy.

  A fantasy where I go to his house after Thanksgiving dinner. Kari would be gone and Brett locks the door behind me.

  A fantasy where I give him that sacred V-card, and he offers me his magical creature.

  I'd ride that cock, wherever it wanted to take me.

  Chapter Two

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  It wouldn't be so bad if this weren’t all completely my fault.

  See, I thought about the plane ticket.

  I remember sitting on Expedia and booking the flight except ... well, now I'm remembering a few other things about that near purchase.

  I remember looking at flight times, which caused me to start thinking about planes. Which led me to think about pilots. Which led me to think about Brett.

  Which caused my panties to become soaked, and my hand to inch toward the waistband of my leggings. Before I remembered my roommate was sitting five feet behind me on her twin size bed.

  I slammed my laptop shut, so hot and horny, grabbed my toiletries basket and towel, and made a beeline to the shower.

  Apparently, after I finished getting myself off, I was so relaxed that I completely forgot what I had been doing.

  So.

  I never booked the flight. And now, Thanksgiving is tomorrow; and do you think there are any planes with empty seats leaving Boston headed towards Maine tonight?

  The answer is no.

  There are literally no flights available.

  I feel like such a fucking idiot.

  I should call my parents, but I can just picture my mom on the phone, "Ella, how many times do we have to tell you, you need to grow up. Be more responsible. Like Kari."

  That is their favorite line to use on me.

  What they don't understand is that, sure in some ways I may be young and inexperienced, navigating my way through life the best that I know how, but in a lot of other ways I have a solid head on my shoulder.

  The thing is, Kari isn't more responsible than me. She's just naturally smart. Not just good grades smart, she's valedictorian smart. The kind of smart that doesn't even need to study. The kind of smart that doesn't even need to try.

  She can just be her naturally effervescent self and woo the socks off my parents and everyone else we know.

  Which is fucking fantastic, for her. Not only does she have brains and beauty, she doesn't even have to work for it.

  Me, on the other hand, if I want a B average, I have to work my tail off. None of the school stuff comes easy to me, it never has. Is it the worst thing in the world to not want to be an astrophysicist with hopes of becoming an astronaut like Kari?

  Okay, I'm getting off on a tangent here, which probably isn't helping my cause, because it was a tangent that got me away from my online ticket-booking in the first place.

  Distractions.

  Maybe I have ADD.

  Regardless, the dorms are closing for the long weekend. There is no plane ride to take me home. I'm probably going to be sitting all alone on a park bench in Boston Commons, going to a homeless shelter to pick up a warm Thanksgiving meal.

  Okay, now I do sound like an immature brat.

  Buckle up, Ella it's time to focus on solutions.

  I pick up my phone and press Kari's number, then put it on speaker.

  "Kari?"

  "Hey babe," Kari answers, cheerily. "I was just thinking about you. I’m at the airport, what time do you fly out? I made it through the crazy holiday security lines and have two hours to kill."

  "That's the problem. I totally fucked up my plane ticket. My parents gave me one thing to do, book my own flight, and what do I do? I manage to screw up the reservation. Now all the flights are booked and I guess I won't be coming home."

  "First, you're not a fuck up. I’ll help you get this sorted out. I must see you. Besides, I just talked to my dad this morning and he said your parents invited us over for Thanksgiving. Apparently, they got all chummy after our vacation this summer."

  "Really?" My heart skips a beat. Brett is coming over for dinner tomorrow? Not exactly me in his bedroom, with him stroking my ass with his big hands, but sitting across from him at the kitchen table is better than nothing. "I haven't talked my parents all day. I’ve been avoiding their calls because I know I will never hear the end of it. Like my mom needs one more reason to think I'm a mess."

  "Nobody thinks you're a mess. But we can fix this." Then I hear Kari squeal, clapping her hands. "I just totally figured it out. My dad can stop in Boston. He is just a few hours away at a conference and he can fly you home."

  "Really, that sounds expensive and a big inconvenience for your dad."

  "Are you kidding me? My dad would do anything for you. You can chill on his private jet. That's way better than hoping to catch a flight on standby."

  There's always been a class divide between Kerry's family and mine. Her dad is a millionaire. Maybe more. Brett flies his own plane, but that's just a hobby. He also buys and sells stocks, trades bonds... all that sort of stuff. Which, okay. I don't exactly know what he does, but it has to do with money, and lots of it.

  Kari and I only became best friends because we attended the same private high school. I was a scholarship kid. Not that I'm ashamed of it, my parents work hard. Which is why I feel so guilty that I don't want to be the collegiate daughter they dream of.

  It's selfish to want to give it up, because what, I'm bored? Because school isn't very fun?

  Because I'd rather be sleeping with my best friend’s father?

  I know how ridiculous this all sounds.

  "Do you really think he'd be able to give me a ride?" I asked.

  "Obviously, Ella. He loves you like you're his own daughter," she replied.

  I wish she could take back that line. I don't want Brett to think of me as his daughter, because I certainly don't picture him as my daddy.

  Clearly, I can't say that to my best friend, however. Instead I just write down the phone number as she recites it to me and think about the possibility of riding Brett.

  Riding in his plane, I mean.

  Chapter Three

  His voice is gruff over the phone, it’s one of the reasons he's always turned me on. Even when I was a younger teen, when my breasts were just filling out, I still remember going to bed at night, touching my nipples, fantasizing about his low gravelly voice whispering in my ear before he lowered himself and began sucking the tight little buds.

  Over the phone he says, "Ella, I was not expecting to hear from you today."

  I tell him about t
he mix-up, as briefly as possible, not wanting to draw attention to my stupidity.

  He just laughs, and tells me that my missed flight is his opportunity. After a beat, he adds, "An opportunity to help your parents of course."

  I swallow the annoyance that he is thinking of my mom and dad and not me. Coordinating the flight is easy enough, Brett sounds so genuine that it takes away any fear that this detour is putting him out.

  Of course, internally I am freaking out.

  And after we had set the time and place, he adds, before hanging up, "Ella, I'm so glad you called. I miss your voice."

  His voice is the least of what I have been missing. I hang up knowing I have ninety minutes to kill before I need to meet him. It doesn't give me a long time to prep, but I know if I have more time it will only make me overthink everything.

  It's not that I have some grand idea that the moment I step on his private jet he is going to seduce me. I mean, obviously, that's what I want to have happen but I'm no fool.

  Maybe that day in the ocean wasn't sexual at all to him. Or is something he has completely forgotten about.

  But damn, a girl likes to dream.

  My roommate has already left for the airport. So, all packed and with ninety minutes to wait, I do what any young woman would do with the sudden prospect of meeting the man she has been admiring her entire teenage life.

  I make sure the dorm room was locked, and decide to dress in something more provocative.

  If I’m offered admittance in the mile-high club... I want to be ready.

  When the Uber pulls up to the small airport on the outside of Boston, there is a moment where I wish Kari was here with me. I can count the number of times I've been alone with Brett even though there's no way in hell I could count how many times I’ve wished I had been.

  A fluttering excitement bubbles up in my belly, and I don't think it is just because my clothes may be just a tad too tight. Plus, I'm not used to wearing thigh highs under my skinny jeans.