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A note to readers: This is a long story that unfolds chapter by chapter through the eyes of two protagonists – Mark and Elsa, and as in many of my other stories involves a growing spate of horny characters. Every ten chapters or so I will provide a short summary at the start of that episode to bring new readers up to date (see start of Ch. 30). This story could appear in a number of genres (Loving Wives, Incest, Lesbian, Fetish, and more) depending on the chapter, but the overall theme is Group, so I have applied this moniker to all chapters. The story is still being written, yet I intend to post a new chapter every couple of days. Enjoy.
Chapter 31 – Mile High Club. Prepping For Vegas Trip
There is some kind of mystique about the Mile High Club. To become an ‘official’ member, you need to fuck somebody in an airplane. I was a member. Elsa, Cindy, Sheila, and Melanie were members. The rest of the vacationers riding home on my custom 737 from Puerto Vallarta were not members when they got on the plane.
Carter started things once we at altitude by raising the subject with KC – who also was not a member. The two of them decided that would be a fun thing to do.
My large plane – the 737 – had a stateroom at the rear of the plane with a large bed in it. I have used it on transcontinental and transoceanic trips to sleep. During the three-hour flight back home, my bed had an entirely different purpose. It was the birthplace of multiple memberships in the Mile High Club.
Carter and KC started things off, but there were more guys who weren’t members than girls, so KC wanted some company. After they’d been fucking for a while, KC came out from the stateroom completely naked and asked whether anybody else wanted a chance to join before she showered. There was damn near stampede to the back of the plane.
Brita and Margo joined her as well.. The three women became the cum buckets for Carter, Deke, Ryan, Mike, James, Andy, and Tom – all potential new club members. Since there wasn’t a lot of room in the back, most of the clothing got removed up where the rest of us were sitting. The naked acolytes of high altitude sex then joined the throng at the rear of the plane and the serious fucking began.
The rest of us – already members in good standing in one of the most exclusive clubs in the world – sat outside and talked and listed to moans, groans, shrieks, giggles, and laughter coming through the open door to the stateroom.
Occasionally, Elsa would get up and peer through the door to see what was going on, often after some unusual shout or sound. She’d come back and sit beside me, but report in some way to all of us; something like, “Brita has James in her mouth and Carter in her pussy,” “Margo is being DPed by Deke and Tom,” or “KC has both Ryan and Mike’s cocks in her cunt – double vaginal. They are looking really hot.” Of course, she’d look again five or ten minutes later, and the whole configuration would change – different people with different people, and different sex acts. Mostly the group in there stayed two guys on one girl.
Elsa reported that the three women were very happy with the state of affairs. An excess of swapping partners also occurred, so that every guy got to fuck each of the three women, in some cases over and over again. My plane had never seen that much sex.
We started our descent to City Airport about thirty minutes before landing. The engines made a decided change in pitch, and the plane nosed over slightly. After that, one by one, the newest members of the Mile High Club came out of the stateroom after having used the tiny shower in the rear bathroom. Everyone looked bright eyed and bushy tailed, as my father used to say.
When all ten of them were with us, Elsa broke out a bottle of champagne and little plastic flutes. We all had a toast to the club and new members, gave a cheer for sex, and then settled down for the last of our approach and landing. Our vacation was over.
We soon stood at the bottom of the aircraft stairs parting ways with some of our group. Melanie had arranged a limousine to take the five young men in our group to their homes: Carter, Deke, James, Mike, and Ryan. Andy and Margo had a separate limo and security at that point. Tom and Brita were staying with me, as well as my other five ‘wives.’ There were also the security teams, although three war wagons had come to escort the limousines to their destinations.
The English language needs an expanded vocabulary for group situations. I have ‘sister wives,’ like that TV show, only they aren’t sisters or wives. The women are all my girlfriends, but that understates the significance they represent to me. The closest word is wife, but you’re only legally allowed one of those. Men don’t normally talk about their wives, unless they’re like me with six of them, in which case that’s a misnomer. Did the Mormons have some special vocabulary that they hid from the outside world?
I ruminated on the different ways güvenilir bahis I could describe what had happened and who I was with to some of the other people I worked with. Saying I was with my six girlfriends on vacation is kind of a show stopper unless someone knows what the situation is with us. Oh, and then there’s Margo. What should I say, ‘Oh, yes, I was also making love to one of the wives that came along.’ Now that really sounds indicting.
We rode into the downtown area in a matter of minutes. Sunday evening traffic was very light. As we came into the condominium from the elevator Barnes greeted us. He and Elsa had talked, and the result was a tasty set of hors d’oeuvres and then a buffet meal for the eight of us.
We reminisced about the vacation, each of us recalling a high point or two. I blushed when Elsa and Melanie cited The Experience from me as a high point. Cindy especially enjoyed a poolside gangbang where all eight men had fucked her to one frantic climax after another as the rest of the women looked on and jeered at her. Brita had never made love on the beach before with the water lapping under the chaise. Sheila spoke of fucking Mike and Ryan while they had one of the little sailboats about a mile offshore. KC spoke of an unusual threesome with the only married couple on the trip – Andy and Margo. Elsa and Cindy both added in the time with Lucas. Tom found himself with three girls when he was at his horniest; he managed to satisfy all three. I cited the ring ceremony at the restaurant when KC and Brita joined our circle of love, and Margo was included, and then the special night we shared after that.
After some more conversation and drinks after our great dinner, Tom collected Cindy and Sheila and headed off to the guest room for the night. The two girls looked very happy to go with the vibrant man.
I had my other four ‘wives’ and we had a smooth time slipping into showers and bed. Yes, I made love with all of them, had sex with two as the other two made love, and then we slept.
The next morning, Tom, Sheila, Melanie, Brita, and I were in the office by seven o’clock. I’d set up a couple of meetings for Tom, and he went off for those. I tasked Melanie with sorting our notes from our brainstorming sessions in Mexico into various types of action item lists. I didn’t have to explain much; she was one very smart cookie.
Sheila went off to tend to a week’s worth of accumulated mail, email, and action items coming to my office that had been collected and hopefully organized by the temporary staff that HR had provided for the time we were away. If the past was prolog, she’d handle about ninety-nine percent of it without my further involvement.
Brita and I started a meeting with nine other executives associated with our pharmacological and medical devices divisions. I had a couple of pages of notes I’d made during our time in Mexico, so was full of ideas to test on my cohorts. Brita also had about fifty major ideas to toss around too. I wondered what they thought about the two of us sitting with them with deep dark all-over tans.
We met until noon when a catered lunch arrived in my office for the eleven of us in the meeting. We were making some great strides in redesigning our part of the organization, redeploying some of our management and professional talent, and integrating Danskpharma into part of Worthington, and part of Worthington into Danskpharma.
When we had a moment aside I asked Brita whether she was happy with the direction we were taking. She assured me that what we were proposing and implementing far exceeded her expectations for our mutual association.
In a further whispered aside, Brita said, “By the way, handsome men with great ideas who manage the way you do make me wet. I hope you plan to make love to me later because right about now sex with you is my prime concern.”
I stole a kiss since we were alone. I told her, “You know there are a few rules for the females around this office. You might check with Melanie or Sheila about those.”
During our afternoon break, Brita disappeared for ten minutes along with the other executives to tend to calls and other crises. When we started to reconvene, Brita handed me a large manila envelope that was bulging slightly.
I opened the envelope and looked inside. There were the lacey light green panties that Brita had put on that morning, and a whiff of her aroma overtook my nostrils and gave me an instant hard-on. I smiled at her, but quickly closed the envelope so the others in our meeting wouldn’t get too curious and peer over my shoulder at what was inside.
Brita smiled at me and whispered so the others couldn’t hear, “I’m just trying to adhere to the rules for women in your office. I believe commando is what I heard you call it in Mexico. Melanie said she was never allowed to wear undies. Sheila validated that claim. I like your rules.” She gave me a lewd grin.
I put the envelope in my top drawer. As I did I saw pairs türkçe bahis of undies from Sheila and Melanie from weeks earlier when we started my informal dress code. I love compliant women.
“Elsa, we hate to do this to you right after you come back from vacation, but we need you to go with Sean out to Las Vegas and play the role of his assistant. The city commission out there is challenging the entire design of the large condominium complex we put together for Baker Consortium. You worked on all of the design, structural calculations, and safety elements, so know the material inside out and backwards. Unfortunately, you’re not an architect, but Sean is, so he’ll actually front for you with the commission. I hate to put it that way since you know so much more than he does about this stuff, but … well, you do and they want a licensed architect there.”
I smiled at Greg, my boss. “Glad to help. When do I have to go?” After a week away, it was nice to walk into a fire drill within ten minutes of being back at work. The way Greg had put the request made me feel valuable.
Travel was rarely part of my job since I was a behind the scenes kind of person, but I expected that like the other professionals in the office I’d be on road occasionally for one reason or another.
“We’d like the two of you out there for meetings with the city starting first thing on Monday, so a Sunday evening trip. Sean talked to the code enforcement division and the city engineer for the commissioners, and he thinks it’ll be a two or three day meeting. Just to be safe, plan on coming back Wednesday afternoon, but you might get out of there Tuesday. I don’t know how good they are at estimating meeting time. Check in with Sean. The two of you have this week to prepare. Make it good, otherwise we’ll be in for months of delays and hence cost overruns, and a very unhappy client.”
After that lovely news, I walked across the building to Sean Ware’s office. He was sitting with piles of paper around him, and three computer screens blinking away showing the spreadsheets I’d done months earlier. I could tell he had the Las Vegas Project front and center. He looked up at me as though I were a lifeboat in a sea of despair.
“Elsa! I’m sooooo glad you’re back. I need you. We need you. Our client needs you. The City of Las Vegas and the consortium need you. Help!” I’d never seen my colleague so stressed out. At least on this project I’d worked circles around him, and I’d be sure to remind Greg later that he was making at least twice what I did.
“Relax, Sean. I’m here, and all is cool. I’m your savior.”
We went through the issues Sean knew about and guessed a few others. Being better organized than Sean, I made a list. The rest of that week we prepared backup material for each issue in nice tidy packets we could leave with the City. The packets had been my idea, and Sean liked it. The harder part was guessing what issues the City had with our plan for the condominiums.
Mark was a little surprised that evening when I told him I had to travel for business. He teased me about going to Vegas. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, Baby,” he told me, “only you need to come home and tell us all about it so we get aroused.” Mark had become a true libertine. It wasn’t that he tolerated our being playful when we were away, he actually hoped we did something sexual so that we’d have some kind of sexy stories to tell when we came home.
I asked Mark explicitly, “What if I hook-up with somebody in Vegas, will that make you mad?” I again wanted that validation that he’d be OK with whatever happened. I didn’t have plans, but you never knew whom I’d meet.
“Mad? Hell, no. I want to hear all about it when you get home, but I’d hope that you had fun and got out of the encounter whatever you’d hoped.”
I thought about taking Lucas with me for ‘protection,’ only when I went to his office ten floors below Mark’s condo, he was into scheduling the various guards for the month. He told me he would not be traveling with me, but that a new bodyguard named Jana Taggert would be my protection. I was to book her on my flight and in my hotel, keep her informed of our local travel plans, but other than that Jana planned to keep a low profile. By implication, I was also to be well behaved and not do risky things. As usual, I thought ‘Bah’ to that.
Jana stopped by the next evening to introduce herself. She was nice enough, and under the right circumstances I could see how she could appear quite threatening. She was about Andy’s height and weight, and Andy was overweight but she wasn’t. I believe the polite expression is big boned. I felt sure that the bulk under her slacks and blazer was all muscle and two Glock 30s. I explained to her the purpose of my trip to Las Vegas, who I was traveling with, our expected itinerary, and the probable hotel off the strip.
My dating Mark Worthington and having a bodyguard around was not widely known in the Darwin Architectural Group güvenilir bahis siteleri but it also wasn’t a secret. Sean wasn’t in on the news, but Greg knew and had helped orchestrate my security coverage so it wasn’t daunting. On Wednesday, I explained to Sean about Jana traveling with us, and the reason why. I thought I’d have to call 9-1-1 to get his jaw off the floor. I had been a little vague.
“Sean, a woman named Jana Taggert will be traveling with me on the trip. She’s my bodyguard, however, she won’t be a problem and most of the time you won’t even know she’s there.”
“WAIT! WHAT? What do you mean your bodyguard? What are you talking about?”
“I’m Mark Worthington’s girlfriend, and he wants me to have some kind of protection at all times, so I always have someone assigned to me.”
Sean reacted like he’d just had a hot poker stuck up his ass, “You’re seriously Mark Worthington’s girlfriend? Holy shit!” His voice went up two octaves repeating that statement back to me as a question. There was awe in every word.
“One of them. There are about six of us.”
“Hoooooollllllllyyyyyyyy sssssshhhhhhhiiiiitttttt,” Sean reacted. He seemed stuck on those two words.
“Sean, it’s not that big a deal. Mark is a nice guy – lovable actually, if you happen to be my sister, a few others, or me. He just happens to have a keen business intellect.”
Sean sputtered, “Keen business intellect? He’s like brilliant and worth billions – like he could pay off the country’s national debt or something.”
I commented, “The last I read in Forbes I believe the number cited as his personal wealth was eighteen billion, but that also depends on which assets you count and how you value them. The number has been as high as forty and as low as seven-hundred million, but that was two years ago. I suppose it’s more now.”
Sean sputtered on, “You were on vacation with him in Mexico last week, right? I’m putting two and two together.”
I amplified, “There were fifteen of us, plus our security team. We had a lot of fun in Puerto Vallarta. We got back last night in Mark’s private jet.”
“And you are so suntanned. Was it fun being with a billionaire eighteen times over?”
“Yes, it was a lot of fun. We didn’t wear clothing most of the time.” I had decided to have some fun at Sean’s expense. He over-reacted to about everything I said, so I thought I’d throw some gasoline on the fire.
“You … you … you … didn’t wear clothes? You were all naked?” Sean’s eyes raked over my sexy body.
“Yeah, and we were all making love to each other all the time too – you know, fucking. It was a fantastic vacation – eight men and seven women.”
That tripped Sean’s circuit breakers for a while. He sputtered but no intelligible words came out of his mouth. I continued to sort some of the papers we’d printed up into the various packets of information we were taking with us.
Sean finally got his act together, “Were you at a nudist colony?”
“No, but we did sort of make our own at the villa we stayed at. I think my sister started it first, but I was right in there with her. That was only a few minutes after we arrived. The others followed right along. We each have all-over tans, even in those delicate little places you wouldn’t expect the sun to ever shine on. We did wear sport clothes to go into town for dinner, or when we left the villa we were at. I also wore them during my training sessions.”
“Training session?” Sean asked. “What training session?”
I wanted to tell him they were training sessions for sex in some special way, but I resisted. I figured the precise truth would be as mind blowing for him as teasing him. “Cindy and I are studying martial arts and handguns. The extra clothing was for protection when we’re sparring. The practice sessions have been fun and very athletic.”
“Are you a black belt or sharp shooter or anything?”
“I’m moving in a direction that doesn’t do black belts – it’s called urban survival.”
Sean said, “What’s urban survival? I haven’t heard of that.”
It means we can cope bare handed with the worst threats anyone could find in the urban jungle by seriously maiming or killing the threat.” I held up my hands; “These are deadly weapons – just as deadly as my Glock 30 pistol.”
“You have your own gun? Are you any good at shooting?”
“My weaponry instructor tells me I am proficient at a sharp shooter’s level, at least with my Glock. That’s mainly what we’ve practiced with although I have shot some other weapons.”
“But you’re not carrying now, right?”
I just said, “Wrong.” I pulled back the side of the cardigan sweater I was wearing to reveal my shoulder holster and the matted black handle of my Glock 30. Sean’s color left his face. I worried he’d faint. His eyes enlarged to about three times their size as he gawked.
Sean’s estimation of me had changed in a dozen ways by orders of magnitude in the five-minute discussion. He asked, “Does the front office know?”
“Of course. There’s also an armed guard just outside the building, and I wear a panic button to alert them of any trouble.” I reached into my cleavage and pulled out the little RF button I’d been asked to wear.
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