Flight Risk Part 6

By soppingwetpanties

“I don’t know …”

“Give her a chance Jacks. She’s clung to your bedside this past week … the moment they allowed her to visit. She loves you. It’s obvious to me. It’s obvious to everyone who’s been around her. She fucked up. Deal with it. Don’t push her away.”

* * *

Six Months Later

“This sucks,” I told my co-pilot. I tossed the company provided sandwich into the trash can. We were in the “ready” room, if that’s what you could generously call it, for a local freight forwarding firm. After the crash, my vision wasn’t good enough for the Navy, so I was given a medical discharge and disability pay. My sight was good enough to land this job.

But I shouldn’t have complained. As a civilian, I could live at Ronnie’s full-time. We lived in her house in Visalia and went up to the cabin on the weekends. We could now talk about Alex without Ronnie descending into one of her moods. But Alex was still with us, whether I liked it or not. I decided I could live with that.

Ronnie was terrific as I went through a three month rehab. She took me to all my physical therapy appointments and helped me with my exercises between visits. I recovered full mobility after the cast on my leg came off, and the blurriness in my vision cleared up after a few weeks.

The kind, generous and witty Ronnie was back, and I hadn’t seen a trace of the nasty drunk that almost permanently marred our relationship. The prospect of her falling off the wagon was omnipresent in both of our minds, but like all relationships where alcoholism is a factor, it’s something that never goes away. We were now deeply in love with each other.

I went home that night with my sex drive in high gear. Ronnie came back from Rusty’s, making the long drive down to Visalia earlier that afternoon. She was there when I got home.

I opened the door. She closed it behind me and I pushed her against it, pinning her shoulders against the door with my hands. I was much stronger than her, and she didn’t resist.

I put my face inches from her. I wanted to kiss her, but that wasn’t what I really wanted.

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”

Ronnie wanted to surrender control to me, and I discovered I wanted it. It was now ingrained into our lovemaking.

“No … Jacks … I haven’t.”

I unbuttoned her pants while still holding her against the door with one hand. I pulled down the zipper and thrust my hands inside her panties. She was already wet. She was waiting for me to come home. Maybe she was naughty.

I pushed a finger inside her. Her eyes widened and she let out a gasp.

“You’re wet Ronnie. Too wet not to have been a bad girl.”

I added a finger, stretching open her pussy.

“Isn’t that right? You’ve been a bad girl? Don’t lie to me Ronnie.”

I pushed both fingers all the way inside her. Her breathing quickened until she was panting.

“Yes … I’ve been thinking about you. I … I was using my vibrator.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I was … I was thinking about the nipple clamps. How you’d put them on me …”

“And then?”

“And then you’d tie my wrists and ankles to the bedposts.”

“You’d like that … wouldn’t you?”

“Yes … yes …”

I pulled her into the bedroom and stripped off her clothes. She had filled out since she had stopped drinking. She was the full-figured woman of my dreams. My lust for her made me push her onto the bed.

“Lie still,” I told her.

She watched me anxiously as I went into the nightstand drawer and pulled out our favorite pair of nipple clamps. I fastened one, then the other, loosely.

“You love me, don’t you?”

“Yes … Jacks … I love you with all of my heart.”

I turned the adjustment screws one full rotation.

“Unhhh!” she uttered as the tender skin on her nipple was compressed.

“And no one else?” I turned the screws another rotation.

“No … no … Jacks … there’s no one … no one else,” she swore.

I elicted this confession each time was had this type of play. It made me feel good to hear it, even if it was after two turns of the clamps.

I got out the Velcro cuffs. Our bed had four posts, which made it incredibly convenient for those times when you want to tie up your lover. This was one of those times. Ronnie liked to test the strength of those bonds. It made her feel more helpless, and that made her hornier.

I got the big vibrator out of the drawer. It was Ronnie’s favorite. I was going to use it unfairly. But love’s not fair, is it?

I moistened my fingertip and rubbed it gently against her clit. I knew the clamps would increase her sensitivity to stimulation, and tugged lightly on the chain that connected them, watching her lift her hips off the bed, trying desperately to increase the pressure of my finger.

“Oh God,” she gasped. Her nipples were stretched out to twice their normal length.

“Quiet,” I told her. “I didn’t ask you a question.”

I started to grind my thumb against her clit. Her eyes got to be the width of silver dollars.

She squeaked, but didn’t say anything.

I gave one of the nipple clamps an extra quarter twist.

“JoAnne’s a slut,” I told her.

She nodded. I knew the extra pain was driving her crazy.

“Say it.”

“JoAnne … JoAnne’s a slut,” she answered.

I gave the other clamp a quarter turn.

“And you don’t like sluts, do you?”

“No … no … I don’t like sluts.”

I switched on the vibrator, pressed it hard against her clit, using the other hand to pull off the clamps.

“That’s good Ronnie. You should cum now.”

“Ahhhhh … ahhhhh … ahhhhh …” Her head was thrashing in every direction as the stimulation from her nipples and clit drove her over the edge.

I imagined the rush of blood into her nipples caused a explosion of sensation at the same time that the vibrator was pounding her clit. Her eyes rolled back. She shuddered again, involuntarily, and then stilled, taking in gulps of air before her breathing became steady.

The smell of sex was heavy in the air. We rested there on twisted sheets, her satiated, and me, wanting her even more. I waited for her to float back to Earth, cradling her head in my arms. She was mine now. I never thought we’d get together again, yet here we were.

I looked her in the eyes, bright eyes now, the sadness gone. “I forgive you Ronnie,” I told her, absolving her of her sin.

Every time we made love I made that vow to Ronnie.

She smiled … the smile of contentment … the smile of a love shared.

“And I forgive Alex,” said Ronnie, putting all three of us at peace, and letting go her anger and despair once again.

I never got tired of hearing it.

* * *

Oh, one last thing I had to share with you. It was about a year after Ronnie and I got together. I was hanging out at Rusty’s, as usual, though by now Rusty allowed me to help her out. I did a lot of odds jobs for her, picking up food, helping her with catering jobs, cleaning up after close, and tending the bar. Over time, Rusty trusted me with running the bar while she took time off or needed to run an errand.

On one of those occasions, Rusty wanted to take a few hours off to go to some new spa that opened. I told her I’d cover for her, no problem. It was early, about ten in the morning, and I’d just gotten my first cup of coffee. I was scanning the headlines on my phone when the door opened and in walked JoAnne. She looked the same, and acted like she owned the place.

“Hey you …”

I realized she yelling at me. She was about ten feet from me.

I stood up. She shaded her eyes to focus on me. I was still taller than her.

“Oh … you … blondie …” she said somewhat sheepishly, her voice tailing off at the end.

“Yeah me,” I replied, acting bored. I sat down and went back to reading my phone. I think I took another sip of my coffee before she spoke again. Still standing in the same spot.

“They posted a job for a waitress and I was wondering if you knew if Rusty was here.” She was very polite when she asked. The swagger was gone. Maybe she thought she was sucking up to me and somehow had forgotten the horrible things she’d done to me.

“Oh … Rusty’s not here right now,” I said dismissively. That was the truth.

I shook my head as if annoyed and went back to my phone, this time pulling an edge off my raison Danish and washing it down with hot coffee. I was on my second bite of the Danish before she gathered up the guts to ask me another question. I think my takedown of her in two seconds flat still weighed heavily on her mind, especially at that moment.

“Well … uh … do you know who’s watching this place while she’s gone?” she asked me, again politely, and even sweeter.

“Well … uh … that would be me,” I answered, mocking her delivery. I still hated the bitch.

“Oh … well about the waitress …” she started to ask me, but didn’t finish because I didn’t let her.

“Fuck off,” I told her.

She stood there in stunned silence.

Ronnie clapped loudly and slowly. She was sitting in a dark corner of the bar, drinking coffee, hanging out with me till Rusty got back.

JoAnne turned towards the sound and squinted and recognized Ronnie, starting to smile.

Ronnie stood up and gave her the finger.

Having no reason to stay, JoAnne left with her tail between her legs.

That’s the last I saw of her.

Ronnie got my attention. It was only the two of us in the bar. She was wearing some flimsy dress that was easy for me to take off of her. She wore it because it was summer, or at least that’s what she told me as her excuse. She pulled down her dress and bra to show me more of her breast.

She knew how to jerk my chain.

Maybe I’d pull on hers later.

* * *

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