Damon and Alexa were both waiting for us on Friday when we landed at the airport in Elkins. They’d just finished a flying lesson themselves, and they introduced us to their instructor, a thin, sour man in his sixties with a full head of snow-white hair and piercing blue eyes. He was an Air Force vet who’d flown cargo planes in China and India during World War II. We made small talk for a few minutes, and I told him I was working on my instructor’s rating.
“Well, you kindly taught ’em the basics,” he admitted, “but don’t interfere with my training otherwise.”
“I won’t,” I said as politely as I could. “For now I’ll give them time at the controls and let them build their confidence.”
He gave me a look that said I might not be capable of even that, so I forced a smile and told him we’d better get going. I asked the teens about him on the ride to the inn. Damon shrugged and kept his opinion to himself.
Alexa wasn’t as reserved.
“I think he’s mean,” she said. “And he stares at me.”
She had her mother’s beauty and the promise of a figure to match, but without the maturity to deal with men who ogled her.
“Do you want me to say something to your parents?” I asked.
“It won’t do any good,” she said. “He’s the best instructor around.
Everyone says so.”
“Well, ‘everyone’ isn’t a teenage girl who looks like you. Does he stare at your mother too?”
“No,” she said sullenly.
“Okay, so he only does it to someone who can’t do anything about it.
Right. He sounds like a first class lech.”
“She’s just overreacting,” Damon said. “It’s fine.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said firmly. “She has a right to feel comfortable around someone.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is. So he stares? It isn’t like he touches her.”
“How would you feel if I stared at your crotch?” I shot back. “What if I did it all the time? So what? It isn’t like I’m touching you.”
He squirmed as he imagined it.
“See what I mean?” I said. “It makes you uncomfortable, doesn’t it?
That’s how Alexa feels, but she has to live with it every day, and not just from guys like your instructor.”
Alexa nodded silently from the back seat.
“She shouldn’t have to put up with that crap,” I said to Damon. “And you shouldn’t make her feel like it’s her problem. It isn’t. It’s yours and mine, dude.”
He was too polite to come right out and disagree with me.
“You don’t think so? You think she wants guys to stare at her?”
“No. But so what? It’s flattering.”
“Oh, really? So it’s flattering when I stare at your crotch?”
“No. It’s gross. And rude.”
“Ah, I get it,” I said sarcastically. “Alexa doesn’t deserve the same respect you and I take for granted. So it’s all right to stare at her but not you.
I see.”
“I didn’t say that,” he protested.
“Yeah, you did, dude, when you said she’s overreacting.” I paused to let that sink in. “Fair is fair. Alexa has a right to feel comfortable, to not be stared at. The same as you do.”
In the back seat, Alexa was fighting back tears.
Christy touched her hand and squeezed. “I’ll say something to your mother and tell her he was staring at me.”
“No,” Alexa said. “I’ll do it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind.”
Alexa shook her head and wiped her eyes. “I’ll tell her.”
I gave Damon a pointed, expectant look.
He hunched his shoulders and kept his eyes on the road.
I stared harder.
“Yeah, all right,” he said eventually. “I’ll back her up.”
“Good. That’s how a real man treats women.”
Christy had brought a special outfit for dinner: a matching blue plaid skirt and jacket with a white blouse. I didn’t realize what was special about it until she unbuttoned the jacket. The blouse was transparent, meant to be worn over a camisole. Her breasts were clearly visible until she grinned and re-buttoned
the jacket, which turned her into a proper young lady again.
“Oh, that’s clever,” I said appreciatively.
“Thank you. I thought you’d like it. I know you’re still upset about this weekend—”
“I’m not upset,” I said. “I’m just… eager. Very, very eager.”
Her eyes flashed with a smile. “I know. I can tell, Mr. Trouser Tent.”
“What can I say? He’s eager too.”
“Maybe after dinner he can take me to that little side street?” she suggested. “You know, the one where—”
“Oh, I know the one.” I chuckled. “We both do.”
“I was hoping you would.”
“What about later?”
“I brought some scarves and a blindfold, and… um… Wren’s Polaroid.
With extra film this time.”
“Oh?”
Her eyes flashed with eagerness. “I wanna see what I look like tied up.”
“You are a kinky little thing.”
“But only for you.” She slipped into my arms and looked up at me. “Do you need a little attention now?”
“What do you think?”
She sank to her knees and unconsciously moistened her lips as I unzipped my fly and carefully extracted my hard-on.
“Hello, Mr. Big,” she said earnestly. “I know you want to meet Miss Kitty, but you have to wait. Are you okay with that?” She pretended to listen.
“What’s that? ‘Only if I suck you a million-billion times?’” She laughed playfully. “I dunno about a million-billion, but I think I can manage five or six.” She listened again. “Stop talking and start sucking? Mmm, okay!”
I rolled my eyes.
“He can be very insistent,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Then you should do what he wants.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
The next morning we hit the slopes when the lifts opened and skied until they closed. Then we returned to the inn, where we soaked up warmth in the big
claw-foot tub until I was too waterlogged to stand it any longer. We went out for a quiet dinner at a nearby bar and grill. No one could really tell that Christy was braless under her sweater and turtleneck, but we knew, which was enough to keep her at a simmer through the whole meal.
Back in our room I used her long silk scarves to tie her spread-eagle to the four-poster bed. She’d brought a black satin blindfold as well, and I slid it over her head to cover her eyes. Then I spent nearly an hour teasing, tormenting, and taking pictures. She came quickly the first time, mostly from pent-up desire and anticipation. I let her calm down and then slowly worked her up to a second major orgasm.
I still hadn’t come myself, and the little head was in rare form. He wanted to fuck her senseless, to hell with what she wanted. The big head knew better, but I could almost feel his resolve crumbling.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I was planning to do when I knelt between Christy’s spread thighs and teased her pussy with the head of my cock. She gasped and squirmed but didn’t say anything to stop me. I lubricated my glans in her channel and then slapped her clit.
I spent several minutes teasing her with my hard-on and rubbing it through her folds without ever going too far. Still, I thought of excuses in case I “accidentally” entered her for real. I waited for her to use her safe word, but she never did.
Do it! the little head shouted. She’s practically begging us to.
Christy strained against her bonds and whimpered when the head of my cock nudged her clit again.
See? She wants it. Give it to her. Now!
I finally shook off the fog of lust and came to my senses. I slid my rod along the top of her slit. My balls touched her pussy itself, and the base of my cock pressed down on her clit. Her stiff nipples strained toward the ceiling as she arched her back.