I could hear him chuckling through the background hiss of the headphones: "Sandra, have you really thought about that? I mean, if I do fall out, you're going to have seventy eight kilos of desperate man holding onto your tits like they've been held before. And even if you eventually shake me off it still leaves you up here on your own. How do you think you'd go at your first solo landing?"

"Oh shit!"

"Come on, Sandra, a nurse shouldn't talk like that, a nurse should be caring and gentle towards those in need, and I need you. But before we start I want you to unzip the front of your overalls and then pull up that tee-shirt so I've got plenty of bare skin to play with. I know you're not wearing anything else, I could see that on the beach. I don't know how I managed not to get stiff just looking at you then."

"Brett. . ." It was a forlorn wail of protest.

"Twenty seconds to get ready for me, Sandra. Otherwise we'll give the Jesus bolt another strain test."

"God!"

"No, I told you, just Jesus. Come on, let me see you doing something - or better still, undoing something."

I took my hands away from the sides of the seat and tugged at the zip until it was down around my waist. Then I struggled to free myself from the tight folds of the flying suit until I was back where I'd started from, with both of my tits hanging out, though held together tightly and pushed up almost as high as my chin by the narrow opening of the garment. Just to make it even more fun the zipper teeth seemed to be doing a good job of trying to saw both of my boobs off.

"Come on, Sandra, what are you playing around at? You've got an impatient man back here!"

"Shut up! I'm being as quick as I can. . ."

The tee-shirt was a tight fit as well, and as I clawed it up inch by inch the loose folds collecting up underneath my throat fluttered wildly in the wind. We were passing over a farm house, a tractor moving between the sheds like a picture on toybox. I hadn't realized how much higher we'd gone up since leaving the beach. It was cooler, too, even cold. When I lifted the last fold of my shirt up over my nipples the wind chilled them into a firming response. Brett was going to enjoy finding out about that!

"Sandra, surely you're ready by now? Or do I have to shake you up again?"

"I'm ready, you whinging bastard!"

"Both of them hanging out and bare?"

"Yes," I confessed.

He chortled with delight: "Don't worry if they're getting cold, I'll soon warm them up for you. Now, put your hands on the control bar and do your best to keep the wings level with the horizon. Don't worry, it's easy to do."

Maybe it was for him but I couldn't imagine it being easy for me. Yet when I held the bar nothing much seemed to happen, except we began wobbling more than before. I wondered if Brett was still holding onto the extensions. Then I suddenly found out for a fact that his hands weren't on the control bar because they were slipping around my arms. And this time they didn't stop until his fingers were cupping both of my breasts and making my nipples respond as if they'd been touched with live wires from a battery. Yet for the first time in my life I was being felt by a strange pair of hands and hardly noticing them beyond an involuntary bodily response. What was taking up the really major part of my attention was stopping the trike from toppling out of the sky, eyes flicking from right to left and back again as I checked each wingtip, desperately trying to keep them balanced against the horizon. In comparison to the difficulty of doing that having Brett playing with my breasts was just an annoying distraction.

"Aaah, that's nice. . . I never know which is best, flying, or getting a grip on a new pair of tits for the first time. When you can do both together that's magic. And when they're nice juicy water melons like yours, Sandra, that's a real bonus."

"Shut up, I'm trying to drive this thing!"

"Better do a good job then, sweetie, because if we pile in now in this position the accident investigation guys won't need any black box to know what happened. They'll put it on my tombstone - 'Too much cock in his cockpit'."

I couldn't prevent myself from giggling at that crack, which stopped abruptly as we hit an air pocket or something and the trike quivered like a puppy shaking off water. I squealed as the horizon dipped and began to slide around us.

"Don't worry," Brett told me calmly. "Push the bar forward - forward!" He emphasized the command by jerking my nipples away from me. It was quite painful but that was the least of my worries as I pressed as hard as I could against the bar. Things seemed to change, not that I was quite sure how, but we were still turning.

"Tilt the bar up to the right," Brett ordered, emphasizing the command by scrunching my right tit in his hand as hard as he could. I gasped and did as he wanted, until we were flying properly. Somehow we'd turned completely around again though, because the sea was in front of us now.

"Handling techniques taught with sensory input reinforcement - works wonders, every time. Hey, Sandra, you've starting some heavy breathing. It's about time you showed some reaction after all the effort I've put into getting you turned on."

"I'm frightened, not excited!"

"Like hell. I told you you'd look better than that sheila on the boat when you were stripped off and now you're wondering when it's going to happen. What you'd like is for me to land as soon as I can and then give you a good general purpose fucking - with another afterwards for luck."

He spread his fingers out as wide as he could and sank them into my soft flesh as I swallowed air again, just as I had at the beginning of the flight. I'd done it then because I'd suddenly found myself involved in something I knew I was going to go through with and now I felt the same way again. If we landed in a remote place and Brett kept pressuring me in the same places as he was now there was only going to be one outcome, because he was right, I was getting as eager to be laid as he was. Then he started crooning a romantic little seasonal number:

"Rudolph, the red titted reindeer, With your nips so tight, Won't you pull my sleigh tonight?"

I called him a cunt.

"You're lucky, Sandra, I've had a vasectomy, so we can do it the old fashioned way, with me riding you bareback. You girls really need it pumped into you before you get that final zing out of it, right? God, as soon as I landed on the beach and saw you I knew it was going to be my lucky day - one look and I knew you were absolutely ripe for rooting. So we'd better get on with it."

His hands came off me: "OK, I've got the bar. We're seven kilometres from a nice little spot for a bit of quiet nookie out in the open air, so let's wend, Pancho!"

"Pancho - what does that mean?"

"Before your time, Sandra, before your time."

The trike turned around tightly, back towards the hills. Brett kept talking. "There used to be a fire lookout tower on that ridge ahead. It's been taken down now but the Forestry Commission made an airstrip a few hundred metres down on the opposite slope. Just enough for a little biplane to land and change the firespotters over every two weeks or so. It was never worth the cost of putting in a road. So we use it now."

"What do you mean by 'we'?"

"Trike flyers. We're the only ones who can get in that area now, unless you walk, and not many people do that. It's an ideal place for some open air fucking."

His assumption that I was putty in his hands to do whatever he liked with made me grate my teeth in anger. I was torn between wanting to put scratch marks on his back or across those smiling eyes of his.

"You know something, Sandra, sometimes I teach people how to fly trikes. And one thing I have to show them is how difficult it is to fly on instruments alone and why they should stay clear of clouds. To do that I have a hood which fits over a flying helmet. It covers their eyes but it's cut away underneath so they can still breathe and look down at the instrument panel. I think that's a good idea, don't you?"

I couldn't understand what he was talking about: "What are you asking me for? I don't know anything about flying."

"OK then, I'll tell you something entirely different. When they were training hunting falcons back in medieval days they always used to tame a falcon when it landed by putting a hood over its head. I think you might be tempted to use your claws on me when we land so I think I'll tame you with the same technique, by putting my blind flying hood over your helmet. What a piece of good luck I just happen to have it handy."

The sarcastic bastard was really enjoying himself.

"Hold onto the control bar again, Sandra, and listen for any orders I give you."

I put my hands back onto the rubber grips. A second later a piece of black fabric was pulled down around the helmet, then a cord around the bottom of it jerked tightly underneath the helmet and around my neck. It all happened very quickly. As Brett had said, a large rectangular piece was cut out at the bottom of the hood but to see anything I had to literally look down my nose - or past it anyway.

"OK, Sandra, I've got the control bar again now. Incidentally, that cord is tied up behind your head now, and you wouldn't find it a very easy knot to undo. Nor can you undo the helmet straps underneath your chin while the bag's on. You've heard of the man in the iron mask? Well, you're going to be the lady in the plastic helmet until I let you out of it. Which will be after I've had the pleasure of your company."