Elena’s lips came down on his with the burn of cheap tequila, while her hands roughly yanked down his zipper. Her tongue forced its way past his teeth as her hips already ground against his taut thighs, the thin fabric doing little to block the seeping heat and dampness. The cockpit was thick with the smells of alcohol, engine oil, and the salt of her sweat. "Don"t just sit there like a f*****g virgin," she gasped against his mouth between breaths, grabbing his hand and shoving it against her chest. Through the tight uniform fabric, her n****e was already hard as a pebble. His fingers fumbled clumsily for the closure of her flight suit until she impatiently tore the shoulder strap down herself, letting a breast spring free, the dark areola glistening wetly in the faint glow from the contro
