Friday, November 30, 2012

Icarus Vicarious

© Guyspencer 2012

                                                     Icarus Vicarious  


Tim was only 16, but had been flying gliders alone since 14.  Lean, adventurous, and flush with male hormones, he was in the prime of his teens.  Still, sex remained something he enjoyed mainly as a vicarious fantasy.  You see, Tim knew he was different, yet was clueless how to deal with that difference.  Oh he liked the girls at school, and they liked him better than he knew, but how do you explain to a girl that more than anything you wish to spank her round, bare bottom? 

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The glider, a Schleicher Ka8, belonged to his soaring club.  It was a single seat training glider, made of a curious combination of stout timber and drum-tight fabric.  After giving his little aircraft a pre-flight inspection, he climbed in & belted up.  Impatient, he waited on the green turf runway.  In a ritual as old as aviation, he intoned his pre-flight checklist as he tested each control: “Belt, Elevator, Aileron, Rudder, Canopy closed, Altimeter set, Trim set, Spoilers closed”.

The glider was older than Tim, and likely infinitely more reliable.  When asked about the glider’s age, his instructor had joked, “Don’t worry.  It’s wooden.  You can trust a tree”.  All the same, Tim wore the required parachute.  He hoped to never use it! 

He gave the lineman a “thumbs up”.  After giving the glider a once-over, a helper connected the thin winch rope to the glider’s tow hook.  The helper stepped back, walked to the left wing, and checked that the runway was clear.    He nodded to Tim, who gave him a second “thumbs up”.  The helper reached down, and lifted the wingtip, holding the glider level.         

Tim took a firm hold of the control stick, took a deep breath, and then tapped the pedals to fan the rudder back and forth.  That was the signal to the winch operator, “ready for launch”.

The winch had a huge drum full of special plastic rope connected to a wheezy but strong truck engine.  The operator gunned the engine and threw a lever, which started the drum turning furiously.  Tim’s head snapped back as the rope accelerated his glider down the placid runway.

At first the glider balanced on its single wheel as it gained speed, but then Tim pulled back on the control stick, launching him and the glider on an exhilarating uphill ride into the blue sky.

On his way up, Tim kept his eyes open and his brain in gear.  He had been taught to always expect an emergency, usually a broken winch rope.  Should it happen near the ground, he must lower the glider’s nose and land straight ahead.  If at a medium altitude, he would fly straight ahead before suddenly hooking back to land where he had started.  A higher altitude would allow a more leisurely circuit of the field, followed by a normal landing.  There were no firm rules to guide his decision, all depended on today’s conditions.

Fortunately, the rope didn’t break today.  When he was almost over the winch, he leveled the glider, and pulled the release lever.  There was a “THUNK” sound, as the glider’s last connection to mother earth popped loose and fluttered down under a tiny parachute.  Nearly a kilometer high, Tim soared free of all things earthly.

Once there, Tim’s hormones took control.  He had noticed something on his last flight.  He hadn’t mentioned his discovery to anyone else, but he hoped to see more today.

He flew away from the airport, gradually losing altitude as he passed two grassy pastures.  Then his sharp young eyes spotted what he needed next.  Over a dark plowed field, he saw a flock of circling birds.  They weren’t flapping!  By the time he got there, he was several hundred feet lower than the birds.  Skillfully centering himself under the flock, and slowing to the glider’s best climb speed of 32 knots, he circled, slowly gaining altitude in the same column of rising hot air that supported the birds. 

As he climbed higher and higher, the birds finally took notice.  Looking contemptuously over their shoulders at this human interloper, they flipped their wings and peeled away.  Now high enough to glide a considerable distance, Tim flew towards his next goal, a certain farmhouse, behind which he had seen a shapely female sunbathing on his last flight!

Approaching the farmhouse, Tim spotted the white blanket that the girl had been laying on before.  Near the blanket a box threw a shadow.  Perhaps it was a picnic basket or cooler? 

 He fondly remembered the girl, long red hair, shapely body, swelling hips.  Last time, she had been wearing a very brief blue bottom, and no discernable top.  Today the girl was...gone.  “Dammit!”  Tim felt a huge letdown as he realized the blanket was unoccupied.  Still, the fact that it was still there gave him hope.  Perhaps she had just popped into the house for a moment?

No!  Wait!  As he flew closer, his eagle eyes picked out a splash of blue in the middle of the white blanket.  It couldn’t be... Could it?  He finally decided it was!  It was her pants, without her in them!  Hormones bubbling furiously, Tim glided on towards the house.

With a new urgency, the boy scanned the yard.  As he overflew the house and gained a new angle, he made out a sight that would inspire his masturbatory fantasies for years to come.  Seated on something, perhaps a stump, was a man.  Stretched across the man’s lap was...the girl!  She appeared to be nude.  His arm moved purposely, his purpose unmistakable.

Quickly pulling back on the stick, Tim slowed the glider to minimum sink speed.  Carefully coordinating the controls to keep the yaw string centered, he rolled the glider into a tight spiral.  Circling like a raptor, he could enjoy the corporal action from all possible angles. 

To anyone on the ground, the glider was totally silent, stealthy.  However, it was different for Tim.  He barely needed to peek at his airspeed indicator because the sound of air whistling past his canopy told him his speed.  The old airframe also spoke to him with squeaks and thumps.  If  he allowed the airspeed to get too slow, it would vibrate in warning.  If he ignored that warning, the glider would stall, its nose seemingly eager to mate with the earth.

He couldn’t tell the age of the man.  His hair was grey, or possibly blond.  Her father?  Grandfather? Lover?  Tim would never know.  Obviously, this was no play spanking!.  Her legs kicked, her bottom colored, her red hair tossed, her bottom bucked.  He saw her hand sneak back to protect her bottom, but he intercepted it, tucking it behind her. 

The spanking continued. 

Tim was now flying with two sticks between his thighs.  One was the glider’s control stick, the other was part of Tim himself!

Thankfully, Tim had enough altitude to linger for several minutes.  As his efficient but engineless glider circled, it gradually descended.  As it descended, Tim’s view continually improved.  The more her globes colored, the more beautiful they became.  Tim was totally entranced.  His mind on those buttocks, he flew the plane automatically, without conscious thought.

Finally the man stopped spanking her.  He held her on his lap for a few moments, and then apparently released her.  She rolled off his lap into the grass.  Sprawled on her back, (which must have hurt her livid bottom) Tim could see breasts and a fetching patch of red hair. 

Looking at the sky unfocused, the girl caught a movement.  Her mouth formed into an “O” when she realized what it was.  Just then, Tim thought to look at his altimeter.  His mouth formed into an “O”.  He was at 500 feet and descending!  If he didn’t find lift fast, it would mean an embarrassing forced landing. 

Quickly forming a plan, he rolled the glider level and flew back towards the plowed field that had been his benefactor earlier.  If he didn’t find lift there, he would make an impromptu landing in the grassy meadow beyond.  There was little danger to Tim or the glider, but the club would have to truck the glider back to the airport.  That incident would make Tim the butt of jokes until the next club member inevitably made the same mistake.

Perspiring, and with the girl temporarily forgotten, Tim accelerated to an efficient speed and watched for any sign of lift.  He was less than 200 feet high, and ready to give up and concentrate on landing when his cringing bottomcheeks finally felt an upward push.  Thankful, he slowed and circled, allowing the upward push of the “thermal” to thrust his glider back up high.  It was “touch & go” for awhile, but Tim and his glider finally climbed up into the azure sky. 

Once again high and safe, he was tempted to return to try to spy on her again, but he thought of the girl.  If he never returned, she might convince herself that the glider had just innocently flown over, and that nobody had really witnessed her disgrace. 

So he made the manly, sacrificial decision.

With the image of that spanked girl safely stored away in his brain where it would harmlessly nourish and fuel a lifetime of spanking fantasies, a much richer young man aimed his glider back towards the airport and towards the rest of his life.


© Guyspencer 2012

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