Billionaire and the Sisters Ch. 70

"You have a flat in London on Hamilton Terrace, near the cricket grounds; a ski lodge in Aspen you saw once in the summer when you bought it four years ago thinking you'd take up skiing because you liked snow that year; and a condo on Fisher Island, near Miami, you bought the next year because you wanted a place where it didn't snow.

I thought a bit. "Sell Fisher Island, and keep the others. I would like to buy that villa we stayed a couple of weekends at down on St. Croix. If not that one, something like it. I want very private and secluded beach for our kind of swimming, pool, and lots of room for parties and play. Talk to Lucas about security there too; keep him happy. You can talk to your sisters too and see what they'd like. When summer ends, we should take a trip to go buy something."

Sheila stood, "That's it. I had a feeling you'd want to shift things around in that part of your portfolio."

I smiled, "That's not quite it."

"Huh?" Sheila looked perplexed.

"I need to check whether you are adhering to my office dress code."

Sheila broke into a grin and came around my desk and stood beside my chair. I slowly ran my hand up under her skirt, making her whole body shiver. Her legs spread and a few fingers just happened to slip into a warm moist pussy.

I kept the fingers of one hand embedded deep inside my love, and pulled her head down to me with the other hand. I kissed her tenderly. "I love you."

"Oh, God," she sighed. "I love you too. You are so fucking sexy. I wish you'd do me on your desk right now."

Elsa

"Miami Center, Citation Two Mike Whiskey with you at flight level four one zero, GPS direct St. Croix."

"Radar contact, Two Mike Whiskey. Proceed on course."

Over the cockpit intercom, Cindy said, "That was easy. We'll get another handoff in thirty minutes or so." I nodded. I was pilot-in-command on this flight down to St. Croix. Cindy was my copilot. We'd switch around roles on the return flight. We were both constantly scanning the clear skies at our altitude as our flight route in the Cessna Citation X came over the west coast of Florida heading southeast to St. Croix. We could see the entire state, and even Cuba in the distance.

I commented, "Yes, but the handoff is intra-center, we go from Miami to Miami Oceanic, and after that we pick up San Juan Center."

Cindy was thumbing through a series of maps on her iPad, but agreeing. I practically had the frequencies memorized for the whole trip, right through San Juan Center on 128.65 MHz, and onto St. Croix Tower on 118.6 MHz. I expected the GPS Runway 10 approach, and had it programmed into the main GPS, although I'd also programmed in the GPS Runway 28 approach as well, just in case they'd decided to use the runway from the other end. Either way we expected the visual approach to land.

Cindy said, "I'm going in back for a pee."

"No hanky-panky back there."

"Don't forget to wear the oxygen while I'm out of the cockpit."

I pulled the quick-donning oxygen mask over my head and adjusted the strap. Wes and Scott had recommended that for single pilot operations above fifteen thousand feet in the jet that the pilot always wear the oxygen in case of a sudden depressurization. That would ensure one soul onboard able to respond to the emergency and safely get the plane to a height where the oxygen was more abundant. A sudden depressurization at 41,000 feet would only allow about five to ten seconds before incapacitation occurred with death from asphyxiation soon to follow. We were almost flying in outer space.

Cindy was only gone five minutes. She came back and squirmed into the copilot's seat, getting her headset back on and adjusting her quick-don mask but leaving it off her face. I lowered mine. She volunteered, "Mark is working; on the phone with Italy I think. Our sisters are sleeping or reading. The guys are playing penny ante poker."

We had a full plane this trip - capacity twelve, souls on board twelve. Cindy and I were piloting, a first when Mark had let us go on a long trip in the jet, with passengers, without John his chief pilot along. Mark, Sheila, Melanie, KC, and Izzy were from our core family, and Ryan, Deke, Mike, James, and Carter were our guests for the five-day long weekend. The presence of the extra men ensured some balance between the sexes for our sexual forays into pleasuredom.

As we flew, I continued to scan the instruments even though we were on autopilot. I also had the manual for the 737's hydraulic systems in my lap as light reading material in between scans: read two or three sentences, scan, read two or three sentences, scan, and so on.

As soon as we were handed off by Miami Oceanic to San Juan Center, we started our descent into St. Croix, keeping our airspeed up for a while, but descending at 3,000 feet per minute. Our jet instructors hadn't been too far off when they described the glide ratio of the small jets as not much better than a rock.

Twenty minutes later the sleek corporate jet's wheels made a small squeak as they touched down on hot runway 10 at St. Croix at about 160 miles per hour. We taxied to the general aviation FBO, got waved into a parking space by a young man directing us with red batons, and then shutdown the engines. Cindy quickly entered the flight into the plane's and pilot's logbooks as I went through the final shutdown checklist.

It amused the men at the check-in desk when Cindy and I went in to order up jet fuel and register the jet with them for our stay. Women pilots, especially of high performance aircraft, were a rarity. We both were wearing short dark skirts (commando, of course) with white pilot's shirts complete even to the epaulets on our shoulders with captain's stripes on them. Although we wore flats to fly in, we'd shifted and put on spike heels to walk into the FBO office. We blew them away - two hot babes as pilots of one of the hottest jets on the market.

A war wagon rolled out to the plane accompanied by three Jeep CJ-6s in sporty colors. We wanted to have some fun driving around the island this time, and security be damned, we had the vehicles to do it with. We loaded our luggage into the cars and divided ourselves up between the fun vehicles and then followed one of the war wagons to the same villa we'd stayed at before.

One purpose of this trip was for Mark to look at three other villas that were for sale; the one we were staying at and had stayed at before was not for sale. Sheila had been riding herd on Mark's real estate holdings, divesting some he never used, revamping our plans for some winter ski weekends at Aspen (more flying; good!), and for this trip identifying three Caribbean villas large enough to be our party headquarters when chilly and icy weather settled over the central United States.

We were urged on this trip in part by the first cold snap of the season to hit the city where we lived. Suddenly, we had gone from warm weather that allowed us to use the pool and our swimming hole by the river, to chilly temps. The cold autumn rains had also arrived, and we would soon change from daylight savings time, so the day would be dark not only when we went to work but also by the time we got home from work.

Mark insisted that we all look at the properties Sheila had found and express our opinions and observations, even the five men we usually partied with. That whole discussion triggered the 'but it's your money' argument with Mark, and he played the 'but I love you and want your input because we're partners' card. Needless to say, he won. Cindy and I kind of let him win anyway because we also played the 'OK, if you win this argument we want to pilot the jet to St. Croix' card. We were the pilots.

The trip to the villa we'd stayed at before was a ball: great company, sunny day, warm temperatures, Caribbean aroma in the air, and a lot of laughter. Ten minutes after arriving at the villa we girls were naked and racing down the steps to the beach. The twelve of us went surging into the water, clearly overcompensating for missing the action that skinny-dipping provided back at The Meadows.

To our amusement, Lucas and Marcia came strolling down the path a few minutes later naked and holding hands. They'd been the advance team to check out the villa, our favorite restaurants from our last trip, and liaise with the local police and security force. They too were wearing only their birthday suits, but sported large 'guess what we just did' smiles. I had to take some credit for how Lucas had loosened up after Cindy and I started to work on him.

I went and hugged Lucas and then Marcia. "You both look so relaxed. I assume from your smiles that everything is just fine here." Mark came up and joined me, even putting an arm around Marcia's shoulders, kissing her, and then hugging her to him. We noticed how one of Mark's arms around her shoulder just happened to allow his hand to fall onto her breast and stay there toying with her nipple. Marcia sighed and looked very happy.

Lucas nodded, "All appears all right. The same men and women we worked with before are with us, and that makes me happy. We had them checked out on your last trip, so it saved us some time. We had a security team meeting about two hours ago; everything is up and running. Marcia and I also got to see one of the homes you'll be looking at tomorrow. It's a nice place, even from a security point of view."

I lured the others to join me and we waded back into the sea. The water was such a delightful temperature - so refreshing, plus all my best friends were around me. Lucas and I made out a little; he was glad to see me, especially when I captured his tumescent cock between my legs and faux fucked him for a few pumps with his cock rubbing up and down my slit. He rapidly rose to maximum performance. I loved that I could turn him on the way I did.

I got him to confess to me that he'd fucked Marcia an hour earlier. The two of them enjoyed their romantic encounters together, but Lucas was also quite public about his interest in Linda Boyd, the nurse I'd had in the hospital when I'd been shot.

I looked around me. We weren't the only couple doing something sexual with each other. In fact, as I looked I realized that we were the last couple to do something sexual together. Except for a foursome consisting of Mike, James, Izzy, and my sister, everyone else had coupled up with someone. Most had left the water and were on chaises with fingers and hands doing erotic things to their partners. Marcia knelt in the shallow water near me sucking on Mark's hard cock. From what I could see, she'd been doing her homework and practicing.

Lucas led me up to one of the chaises. Before I could say anything, he had me lie back and had his mouth on my cunt proving that he too had been studying up on his cunnilingus skills.

Cindy and I had talked in the cockpit on the way down about how flying the complex jet was an aphrodisiac to us. Under the right circumstances, we both thought we might even orgasm just from flying the jet. Instead, here we were, less than an hour from the cockpit, and I was soon going to have a large 'cock' belonging to a handsome and ruddy man sawing into my hot love 'pit.' Cock-pit - what a great word. Fucking - what a great word. Fucked - what a great feeling.