Gordita Conspiracy

by Lyle Christie

  “Can we try another position as well?”

  “Of course. What did you have in mind?” I asked.

  “Will you take me from behind?”

  “Ahhh—doggie style.”

  “Doggie style?”

  “Yeah, it’s not the greatest name, but I suppose it presents the right imagery.”

  Dolunay turned over onto her hands and knees, and it brought her curvaceous rear end up into prominence to create a tantalizing visual treat. I saddled up yet again and pressed inside of her and did a few slow exploratory thrusts until she turned and smiled at me over her shoulder.

  “You’re right. It’s not a great name, but it is an excellent position,” she said.

  “And it only gets better.”

  We settled into a robust rhythm with my pelvis pounding against her lovely backside, and every thrust was accompanied by a loud gasp of pleasure. This was a tricky orientation, however, and achieving orgasm sometimes required understanding that every woman had her own unique playbook—as had been the case with the lovely Olivia. In fact, an orgasm from intercourse alone could be as rare as seeing a chupacabra, yeti, or even the Loch Ness Monster, but generally, I found success or failure was the direct result of the effort, or lack thereof, of a sexual partner. In our current position, the fabled Gräfenberg spot received ample attention, but the clitoris was left somewhat out in the cold. To amend that, I reached around, found her little patch of sunshine, and set to work applying a little manual stimulation. It required the ability to multitask by balancing hand and hip motion, but my efforts were soon rewarded when Dolunay started into yet another thunderous climax. Her entire body shook until she at last collapsed forward onto the bed and took a moment to recover before rolling over and talking to me with the giddiness of a schoolgirl.

  “Do you mind if I climb on top?” she asked, as she rolled over and shoved me backwards onto the bed.

  “Feel free to climb aboard m’lady, for I am the Desert Stallion.”

  She laughed.

  “True, and if I remember correctly, this position is called cowgirl, but I haven’t done it since college,” she said.

  “Don’t worry—it’s just like riding a bike, except you don’t have to worry about falling.”

  “Except perhaps—in love,” she said, with a smile.

  “True. Except for that.”

  She took up the cowgirl position and made me her veritable steed—the coupling causing her eyes roll into the back of her head as she let out a little moan of pleasure. She started grinding her hips ever harder against mine, focusing more on making little circles which heightened her clitoral sensation while lessening the friction on Tag junior. This, in turn, allowed me to take a moment to gather my staying power and enjoy the view of the beautiful woman before my eyes. I reached up and took hold of Dolunay’s sizable breasts, and their soft contours filled my hands as I stimulated her large hard nipples with my fingertips. She was lost to the pleasure, and it caused her to moan and increase the frequency and intensity of her gyrations. She was approaching yet another orgasm, and, as she had already had three climaxes, it was time for me to man up and share in the most primal and intimate of human experiences. I took hold of her buttocks and combined my strength with hers, and it allowed us to pick up the pace and pound our hips together until we were teetering on the edge of release. She leaned down and kissed me, and it became the spark for us to at last achieve an earth shattering mutual climax. Our cries became an ear crushing crescendo as we continued on through the successive waves of pleasure until coming to rest with our skin covered in a thin veil of lover’s sweat. My green eyed goddess leaned down and came in for another kiss, and her breasts felt heavy against my chest as our tongues engaged in a final slippery embrace. We soon parted to take a long well-deserved breath, and she dropped down beside me, wrapped her arm across my chest, and we lay in the quiet comfort of the night.

  “I might just have to follow your advice and get out of the desert more often,” she said.

  “Yeah, either that, or I seriously need to get out to the desert more often,” I responded.

  We shared a laugh then drifted off to sleep with our bodies spent and our minds at rest.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Flight of the Phoenix

  I AWOKE AROUND seven a.m. feeling completely disoriented and desperately needing to pee. I looked around the dim room for a moment to get my bearings then took a quick peak under the covers to see the very beautiful Dolunay sleeping on her stomach beside me. I kissed her shoulder then gave her backside a brief caress before venturing off to the bathroom, where I took the grandest of morning pisses. Finished, I used a piece of toilet paper to wipe the stray droplets from the rim of the bowl before putting the seat back down and heading off to the sink to find a toothbrush. There was an extra one in the top drawer, and I used it then slid back into bed to find Dolunay awake and looking especially peaceful in the morning light.

  “How did you sleep?” I asked.

  “Wonderful, thanks to you.”

  “It’s the least I could do to repay you for your hospitality.”

  “Oh it was a lot more than that. It was a new lease on life.”

  “You do a lot of good, so you should do a little good for yourself now and then.”

  “From this day forward, I shall. Now, are you ready for coffee and breakfast?”

  “You bet your sweet desert ass.”

  She got up, threw on a robe, and disappeared out her bedroom door and returned ten minutes later with a tray of breakfast goodies. She set it on the bedside table then poured each of us a cup of coffee. I added cream then breathed in the heavenly aroma before taking my beloved first sip. It was strong and aromatic and made me feel warm from my toes to my chinny chin chin. Meanwhile, Dolunay tore off a piece of bread from the freshly baked loaf, covered it in jam, then hand fed me, making me feel like the sultan of a desert palace. This experience was pretty fucking pleasant, and I couldn’t help but imagine waking up to this kind of luxury every day. Thirty minutes and two and a half cups of coffee later, breakfast was done, and I was ready for my morning movement.

  “I guess I should go up to my room and get ready.”

  “Nonsense, you can use my bathroom.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Well—um—OK then.”

  I kissed Dolunay then headed for her bathroom feeling slightly uneasy at the thought of dropping a deuce so soon into our relationship. I paused at the doorway and hazarded one last look at my hostess before closing the door and seeing that it didn’t have a lock. Shit, I’d just have to trust fate to see that it remained closed, thus making my dump an act of faith unto itself. I turned and gazed upon my kingdom and realized that it was glorious, spacious, and covered in fine marble—something I hadn’t noticed while I was taking my early morning horse piss. I walked over to the toilet, set down my half full cup of coffee, and took a minute to admire its contoured seat before descending onto the throne of immortals. The seat was room temperature, comfortable, and would make a fine pedestal on which to lay my waste. I took yet another sip of coffee, relaxed, and brought forth the first wave of defecation. Without warning, the door opened and in walked Dolunay. I froze in terror, my sphincter tightening up as I cowered, feeling like an opossum on a lonely highway as it stares into an oncoming car’s headlights. Unlike the opossum however, I couldn’t pass out from fear and instead remained fully alert and staring at my nemesis. To my utter surprise, she smiled and grabbed something from the counter.

  “Sorry, I just needed my toothbrush,” she said, holding it up before casually exiting.

  Sweet mother of God. We just had our first official bathroom crossover time with less than eight hours elapsing after intercourse. What did this mean? Was it a good or a bad omen? Fuck. Only time would tell. Still a little in shock, I finished my business then prepared for the shower by searching for a razor in Dolunay’s bathroom d
rawers. I knew she had one because of her excellent western style grooming standards. Both her arm pits and pubic areas were nicely maintained, the latter with just enough of a tuft of hair that there was no mistaking the fact that she indeed looked like a woman and not a prepubescent girl. I’m sure every man had their preference, but in the age of the Brazilian and the Jean-Luc Picard, I found it refreshing to at least find a Charlie Chaplin—though Dolunay was by no means a little tramp.

  The razors were in the third drawer down, and I grabbed a new one, lathered up with soap and had a pretty decent shave, considering I was using one of those double bladed ladies models. I rinsed my face off and finally got into the spacious glass walled enclosure, where I admired the fine tiles and six showerheads. I turned on the taps, wet my hair, then stepped to the side of the watery onslaught to grab some floral scented shampoo off the shelf. After rubbing it into my hair, I grabbed some soap, lathered up, then closed my eyes and stepped back under the torrent of water. A few moments passed, and I felt a tugging on my manhood and opened my eyes to find a very naked Dolunay, using her mouth and hands to manually inflate my penis.

  “Funny, I was just thinking that the shower seemed a bit lonely.”

  She stopped and looked up at me.

  “As was the bedroom, which is why I came in here.”

  “You are truly a humanitarian.”

  She went back to work on my wood and used her tongue the way Michelangelo used a brush. She was an artist all right, and, in about fifteen more seconds, I would be ready to paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel—in a bold although pearlescent, shade of white.

  “Wait, I feel a little selfish leaving you with this as our final act.”

  She paused and looked up.

  “I really would like to leave you with something special to remember me by on your flight.”

  “You’ve already done that,” I said, as I guided her up onto her feet and kissed her.

  I took hold of her buttocks, and, as I lifted her off the ground, she reached down and guided the tip of my manhood inside her essence. I slid in to full mount then braced her against the wall of the shower and began moving my hips fore and aft, all the while gently grinding at the apex of each thrust. The precarious position allowed for a plentiful amount of penile and clitoral stimulation that left both of us riding on the edge of ecstasy. Still, the sad realization that this might be our final coupling inspired us to increase our pace into a manic frenzy. Flesh met flesh, and our hearts beat in harried unison as we pounded away at full gallop towards an oncoming orgasm. It was all I could do to hold back the tide of my loins, but she abruptly dug her fingers into the flesh my back and kissed me, and like the night before, the touching of our lips became the final spark to set our union ablaze. We climaxed together and our bodies shook as we traveled through the selfish pleasure of release until at last coming to rest. I lowered her back to the floor, and we stood there lost within each other’s gaze until she broke the silence.

  “Honestly, I’m surprised you had anything left after last night,” she said.

  “Apparently, my well hasn’t run dry.”

  “Then you are truly an oasis in the desert.”

  She leaned in and kissed me again, then we parted mouths, rinsed off, and exited the shower to dry off and get dressed.

  “Do you know the exact time our flight is coming?” I asked, as I slid on my pants and shirt.

  “I believe it’s at ten a.m., but you never really know with these sketchy third world air transport services.”

  “I guess we better check on Farid and make sure he’s getting ready.”

  We dressed and headed upstairs to find his door closed and his room quiet. I knocked lightly and heard a sudden stirring followed by hushed voices. I looked at Dolunay, and we exchanged a knowing smile just seconds before the door opened to reveal Farid standing there wrapped up in a towel. I looked past him and saw two women still lying in his bed with the covers drawn up to their chins.

  “Did you have a good night?” I asked, bringing my attention back to Farid.

  “Dude…”

  “Let me guess. It’s seriously awesome hanging out with me again?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Oh, I’ve got some idea, but look here, Mr Menage A Trois—our flight out is around ten, so you might want to start getting ready.”

  “No problem, I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

  We left Farid and headed downstairs to wait, and he arrived about twenty minutes later looking showered and fresh as a daisy.

  “Where are your friends?” I asked.

  “Freshening up.”

  Farid grabbed some coffee and breakfast, and, once he was properly fed, we headed back upstairs to grab our things before going outside to catch a ride to the air field. Dolunay and Farid’s two female friends arrived in a Range Rover, and we climbed in and headed off on the drive along the palm tree lined lane that bordered the north side of the oasis. Soon, the trees gave way to a large expanse of desert, and there ahead lay a massive hangar and a runway. The hanger doors were open, and we drove in and parked in front of the massive Airbus A380, then stepped out to wait for our ride.

  “I’m really going to miss you,” I said, to Dolunay.

  “I’m going to miss you too. Perhaps you can come for a visit, or perhaps I could come visit you.”

  “I would love that.”

  She turned and reached into the Range Rover and pulled out a small duffel bag.

  “Oh, I packed you a little to-go bag for the plane ride, as these third world airlines can be a bit lacking in amenities. It’s got some snacks and water, and it’ll give you a place to hide your pistol,” she said.

  “Thank you, good thinking,” I said, as I slid my pistol out of my shoulder holster and placed it in the bag.

  Just then I heard the far off sound of a plane’s droning engines growing gradually louder, and I looked out to see a fairly large twin engine propeller aircraft off in the distance. It began it’s final approach then lumbered in and dropped the last few feet to the ground before slowing and taxiing over to the hangar. The plane in front of us appeared to be a slightly smaller version of the C-130s I’d flown on in the Air Force, though this one was more than a few years past its prime. At least its engines appeared to be in good working order and continued to run as the side door opened, and an Arabic man in a khaki flight uniform climbed out and walked over to greet us. He had a mop of dark curly hair and a welcoming smile that made him immediately likable.

  “Hello, you must be Finn,” he said, still smiling as he held out his hand.

  “Yes, but here I am known as the Desert Stallion,” I said, as I shook his hand.

  He laughed.

  “Excellent nickname. Who is your sidekick?”

  “This scrappy fellow is Little Gelding.”

  He laughed yet again then took a moment to regard Farid and me in our tuxedos. We definitely didn’t look like the typical Middle Eastern travelers, and he gazed at us curiously.

  “Just so you know, we do not have any kind of dress code on our airline.”

  “In America, we take flying very seriously.”

  “Apparently. Well then, let me welcome you to Jibril Airlines. My name is Rafi, and I’m the closest thing you will find to a flight attendant. Please come aboard and get comfortable. There are plenty of seats still available, and we’ll have you at your destination in just a few hours.”

  “And just where would that be?”

  “Istanbul, where I believe you have a connecting flight, though you will have to sort out those details after we arrive.”

  I turned to Dolunay and gave her a long hug followed by a final kiss.

  “It’s been a real pleasure, Dolunay,” I said.

  “Yes it has, Tag, and I really look forward to seeing you again. Hopefully sooner than later.”

  “Yeah, let’s make it sooner.”

  Farid kissed and hugged each of the women then we walked over and stepp
ed up into the plane, but I turned back to take one last look at Dolunay the Desert Fox. Her long hair was billowing in the wind created by the airplane’s prop wash, and she was looking as beautiful and exotic as ever as she blew me a final kiss. I returned the gesture and received a stoic smile. With a heavy heart I stepped aside so that Rafi could close the door, then took a moment to look around at the interior of the plane. It was a typical third world airline experience with the passenger seating in the front and a large cargo area with pallets of supplies in the back. Farid and I went right towards the seats and saw that we only had about ten fellow passengers. I couldn’t see their faces, but they were presumably Arabic judging by the fact that they were all wearing keffiyehs. We found an empty row in the middle and sat down, and I placed my bag under my seat, buckled in, then glanced out the nearest window in the hopes of catching a final look at Dolunay. She was still standing there, and it made me sad to be leaving my new friend behind, but at least I was finally fulfilling my promise to my old friend by taking him to America.

  We taxied back out to the runway, and were soon lifting off and climbing high above the desert until the oasis became a mere spec on the horizon. We banked north and leveled off several thousand feet above the desert, and I leaned back in my seat and looked around at what would be my home for the next several hours. It was old and creaky, and I wondered how this piece of shit managed to get off the ground let alone stay aloft. Rafi happened to be coming up the aisle, and he saw my concerned expression and stopped to talk.

  “You look a little nervous. Any questions I can answer?” he asked.

  “No, It’s just been a long time since I’ve ridden on a plane like this.”

  “This is a C-123 K Thunder Pig. It has been flying for forty years and hopefully will continue to fly for at least another twenty.”

  “So you do passengers and air cargo?” I said, motioning towards the rear of the plane.

  “Yes, as a small airline, we pretty much do everything. Those crates are food supplies that we are air dropping to a remote village in Jordan. They are fairly remote and have no airport nearby, so it’s the easiest way to get them supplies. Now, would either of you like some refreshments?” he asked.