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It is Sunday night. The Reno National Championship Air Races, the finale of the air racing season, were over, ending Dusty's first year as a professional air racer after his Wings Around the Globe Rally win. It had been an extremely successful first season. Between all the races he'd managed to win, he had racked up eight points toward his championship title. If the next season went as well as this one, his name would read “Am. Ch. Dusty Crophopper” on the leaderboards the year after. Maybe even “Am. Ch. Dusty Crophopper OCR” if he really pushed himself. He should be celebrating. Instead, Dusty Crophopper sits alone at a bar, no longer able to ignore the pangs of longing that he had been feeling for the last four and a half months now that he suddenly didn't have racing to focus on, and by now this had become an itch that he couldn't simply scratch himself anymore.
The former crop duster looked around wistfully at all the other planes in the bar pairing up as the upbeat tempo of the bar's music played, and he knew by looking at them that things were not looking very hopeful for him. All likely males were already occupied with their prospective partners for the night, and Dusty already knew that none of the available females would be interested given his young age and the inherent inexperience that came with it. Plus he was so damn small, easily the smallest in the building. At his age, he was as long and tall as he was ever going to get, and it would be a few more years before he filled out the rest of the way and reached his adult weight; and he still was only about 3/5 the size of most others in his model range. Sure, he had gained a little fame now, but with all that he had going against him, it didn't count for much.
As if to drive poor Dusty's summation home, Skipper was elsewhere in the same bar, and the orange and white plane watched as one of the older males that Dusty was having to compete with, a yellow T-6 Texan, decides to show off by posturing at the tired old warbird. Skipper did his best to ignore him, but the Texan had potential tail to impress, and so he kept egging the older male on, at which the Corsair finally moved out of his spot to face him. Everyone was watching intently now, except for the wizened old forklift behind the bar keeping an absentminded eye on the proceedings as he polished the oil cans, as it was clear, to him at least, that this T-6 was picking a fight with the wrong old person.
The two planes locked eyes, the Texan's posture stiff as he snorts through his engine, but Skipper seemed patiently relaxed as he waited for his opponent to make the first move. Seemingly undeterred by the older male's nonplussed attitude at the situation, the T-6 charged, and only in that instant does Skipper's frame tense up. Cowl flaps flaring and control surfaces raised, he planted his landing gear and lowered his front in preparation to take the blow instead of turning away like the younger male expected. The fight is immediately over before it even began as the cowed Texan falters and turns away, slinking out of the bar in embarrassment. Skipper watches him leave before deciding that that was enough fun for one day, and moseys out of the bar himself, but not before casually catching eyes with one of the female planes that had been watching as he passes, who shortly followed behind him.
Dusty sank into his landing gear, closing his eyes in exasperated despair and sighing. How exactly was he supposed to impress anyone with his small, scrawny self after such a display? When he opens his eyes again, he finally notices that another plane has been watching him. It was a plane like he'd never seen before, so unfamiliar that it took him a second to realize that they were female. She was a slightly short-coupled pusher-type, with her wings set somewhat far back on her fuselage and a short V-tail, and she was incredibly small. She couldn't have been more than thirteen or fourteen feet long. He almost couldn't believe that this was a full grown adult, but he already knew how strict the gaming laws were in Nevada as far as enforcing drinking ages; he was still getting stopped in every casino and bar he went into. Her livery was mostly white but for a layered green, orange, and yellow stripe on her flanks that winged up into her tail fins. It was a simple but pretty paint scheme that really made her eye color pop.
Suddenly realizing that he had been staring, Dusty quickly dipped his nose, acknowledging her attention, and she responded by dipping her nose as well. Dusty smiled, and she smiled back, and then the air racer checked slightly as she dropped her nose again before quickly bringing it back up in a beckoning gesture. He quickly moved from his spot at the bar, but as he approached, she moved from her spot to meet him halfway just as quickly. Not expecting this, he was unconsciously prompted to lift his front up as she drew near, tilting back and sitting up higher in his landing gear as he extended his flaps. Now able to see a little more of him, the little female gives him a quick once over with her green eyes sparkling a bit as she smiles again. Then she reached up toward him, and for the first time in his life, Dusty Crophopper has the distinct pleasure of tilting down to touch noses with someone.
“Hi,” Dusty says after they part, “I'm Dusty. What's your name?”
“I'm Newby,” she answers, her sweet voice tickling the young male's hearing in an unfamiliar but good way.
“Newby?” he repeats, tilting slightly to the side, his expression softly curious.
“Yeah. Well my actual name is New Baby, but I tend to go by Newby. My parents couldn't figure out a name for me right away so they just started calling me New Baby while they thought of a name, but nothing ever stuck.”
“Ah. My parents took a while to name me. They weren't really expecting anything to come from their nuptial flight; their models were really different,” Dusty explained as they both moved back to where Newby had been sitting.
“Oh,” Newby took note of the “were”, but pressed no further except to ask, “What were they?”
“My mom was a crop duster; specifically a Cessna-Air Tractor mix, and my dad was a T-45 Goshawk,” Dusty answered.
“Oh, wow, I never would have guessed,” Newby admitted, “If you hadn't told me, I would have only taken you as being a crop duster.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Dusty chuckled, “Anyway, like I said, they weren't expecting me and I was so small when I was born even though I was the only one in the litter, they were really hesitant to give me a name too soon; everyone was so scared that I wasn't going to make it. I was almost a year old and I still didn't have a name until an unfortunate accident where I found the chain that opens and closes the damper in the chimney. I ended up dumping a bunch of soot on me and the dust got all over the hangar, and I'm still Dusty to this day!”
Newby giggled, and Dusty smiled, just barely able to contain a gleeful shiver as he felt a swelling in the heart of him at the noise.
“So, if you don't mind me asking, I mean, what are you?” Dusty continued, “I've never seen a plane like you before.”
“That's because there are no other planes like me,” Newbie answered, looking somewhat glum, “At least as far as anyone knows. I've been examined by so many doctors and mechanics. Nobody really knows what I am. My parents are both purebred Senecas; I look nothing like them. Even my brothers and sisters from my parents' first litter are all Senecas too.”
“Gosh, that's gotta be rough,” Dusty acknowledged, feeling bad now, “Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up a sore spot for you...”
“Nah, don't worry about it,” she said, taking the last sip of her drink, “At twenty-nine years old, I'm over it.”
“Good, good...” said Dusty, deciding to change the subject anyway. “So, you a fan?”
“Ah, not really,” she admitted truthfully, and Dusty smiled, although he still winced a bit before she continued, “But I know who you are. I'm a Reno native; we're kind of all fans by proxy.”
Dusty chuckled, appreciating her candor, then he looked around as suddenly the lights dimmed, and the music grew loud as the bass thrummed up.
“Oop, guess it's 9PM now,” Newby said, moving closer to Dusty so that she didn't have to shout so loud.
“Oh. Yeah, I noticed the dance floor when I came in,” Dusty added as his eyes followed the other couples moving toward it, “They play pretty good music here.”
“That they do; that's why I usually come here more often then some of the other clubs.”
Meteor had started playing, and both planes had got the same idea to lean even closer to one another without knowing that the artist behind the song was a favorite of both of them. This pressed more of their frames together, and caused such a rushing in the heart of him as Dusty had never before experienced. The shudder in response to the feeling tettering through his entire frame from nose to tail came on too quickly for him to try to suppress, and he drew in a deep breath. And with a sickening feeling he knew that she felt that, as she suddenly looked up at him, asking, “You alright?”
Fuck... Fuck...
“Y-yeah, I'm okay,” he tried to cover, his frame still buzzing and feeling both hot and cold at the same time. Maybe if he moved around a bit... “You wanna dance?” Dusty then asked, smiling gently, and Newby's brows pulled in in endeared amusement, her light green eyes sparkling a bit in the lights of the bar.
“Yeah. Let's dance.”
It did help, in fact, to move around. It was an easy enough song to get into a dancing mood, and also, to study one another. Dusty watched her bounce and sway rhythmically in her landing gear. The lights beaming down on the dance floor turned the white in her livery all sorts of colors, and when the chorus came she did this twirling motion, rolling her wings as she came back around, and the crop duster-turned racer felt that same something from before do a back flip inside of him. Song after song, Hung Up, South Side, DARE; this DJ had talent, and knew exactly what they were doing in keeping everyone's minds on one thing. By the time Tech Noir had started playing Dusty's nervousness regarding his standings as far as more romantic encounters went had long been replaced by his usual uninhibited social confidence. Newby had found herself mesmerized by Dusty's dancing in how he seamlessly adapted his wheel work and movements to every beat and every change in tone in each song. This country fool could dance, and he had been breaking out his best moves during this last song as they both danced and sang along. Newby had seen enough; she needed no more convincing. Once the song ended, and the DJ put on a slow jam with the intent of giving everyone a break, the smaller female came in close into the crook of Dusty's wing, and leaned up into him.
“Where are you staying?” she asked, speaking near the little window behind his left eye.
“I'm up in the Tuscany Tower in the Peppermill,” he answered, “Are you tired?”
“I am, a little,” confirmed Newby, “And you must be, you've raced three days in a row. Why don't we go on up to your room? My hearing could use a break.”
“S-sure,” Dusty replied with a crooked smile.
XXxx
“So when were you going to tell me that you're an amazing dancer?” she teased later as Dusty slid the doors closed behind them after letting her in.
“Well I thought it would be faster to just show you,” he chuckled.
“Wow, this is so tacky, I love it,” remarked Newby as she looked around at the décor.
“Heh, yeah. The rugs are pretty nice even though I'm not crazy about the patterning, and this room has quite a view,” Dusty went on as he stood in front of the wide, wrap around window of his corner suite.
“Yeah...” Newby echoed, coming to stand next to him as they looked out onto the mountains and hills, the big neon lights on the sides of the building flashing different colors into the slightly dimmed lighting of the room.
She leaned up against him again, and there was that feeling. The one from those two times in the bar, and Dusty had just realized that it was the same exact feeling as those pangs that he had been getting during the whole racing season. Only instead of little flashes, it was constant now, that rushing, swelling feeling in the heart of his being that was both euphoric and painful.
“I had a lot of fun earlier,” Newby continued, snapping him from his thoughts, “You've really surprised me; you're nothing at all like what I expected.”
“Oh yeah?” said Dusty innocuously, his breathing growing shallow as he once again attempted to not give himself away.
“Mmm hmm,” Newby answered, “I mean, don't take this the wrong way, but all the other racers I've seen, they're all just so sharp and highly bred. You just get this feeling that they're like, a cut above, and you're just a commoner and shouldn't be bothering them. I don't get that feeling with you at all. You're so approachable. And it's not even intentional, it's just the way you are.”
“Is that why you chose me tonight?” Dusty asked softly after pulling in a sudden, deep breath, realizing that this little plane had been learning him faster than he was learning her.
“Yes. Fame doesn't seem to have changed you at all, and I hope it never does. Don't stop dancing, Dusty Crophopper.”
The orange and white plane drew in another deep breath through his intake, prompting Newby to pull away from him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, looking up at his face with a concerned expression, “You've been breathing kind of funny the last few minutes.”
“...Newby? I...” he faltered as he looked into her soft eyes.
It was now or never. Dusty leaned down and forward into Newby's space. He felt her warm breath on his lips as he closed the distance and, tilting slightly, pressed a soft kiss there. It was incredibly chaste, and yet Dusty was now panting as they pulled away from one another ever so slightly, lips still touching somewhat. Then he felt Newby smile against him, and she kissed him back deeply, causing him to release a soft, shaky whine. It was so intoxicating that Dusty almost forgot to breathe until Newby opened her mouth against his and ran her tongue over his lip, drawing a startled gasp from him, and his tires dug into the floor beneath him. The next time they pulled apart, she giggled.
“N-Newby...” Dusty panted, his normally sky blue eyes darkened down to a deep sapphire now.
“You can kiss me back and touch me, you know?” she said, “You don't have to just stand there.”
Dusty remained frozen, unsure. He wanted more than anything to touch her, feel more of her.
“But-” he started to protest, feeling embarrassed and not knowing how to tell her that this was the first time that he'd ever done anything like this with anyone.
“Dusty,” Newby interrupted as she leaned up to plant a kiss near the corner of his mouth, then his cheek before nuzzling him, “Stop thinking so much.”
He almost laughed at the absurdity of such a request, but, maybe, she had a point. Gently, tentatively, he gave her a kiss on the cheek as well, nuzzling her back and moving forward to press more of his body against her. He then leaned down and started kissing and licking around her wings and control surfaces, his massaging and grooming causing her eyes to flutter at the sensation. Her sighs and soft little noises were making him delirious, and he pulled away again and they kissed hard, Dusty immediately matching her when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. But then she moaned, and a heavy exhale left him as he quickly disconnected and moved away, a backing up onto the sleeping mat. He was bursting at the seams now as his arousal raged behind his ventral access panel, and he needed to lie down before he ended up humiliating himself; he had to tell her.
“Newby, I...” he stammered, “Before we go any further, I just want to let you know... I've never done it... before... I've never even kissed anyone before tonight. I mean it's not like I don't know how, I just... You were talking about expectations earlier. I didn't want to ruin them...”
Newby stared at him, and Dusty thought he'd shrivel up and die, but then her expression of concerned confusion slowly morphed into a soft, amused smile as he spoke.
“Oh, Dusty... You're so sweet...” she said as she moved toward him, and when she stood in front of him she was so small that they were more or less at eye level when he was lying down. “That's alright. You don't have to worry, there's no pressure. Just enjoy yourself. Enjoy me. Either way, the pleasure's all mine.”
Dusty could have cried.
“That being said...” Newby went on, “I have something I'd like to do first.”
“What's that?” Dusty replied in an almost bemused manner in spite of the current situation.
“Stand back up?” she asked, and Dusty's brain short-circuited.
“Huh?”
“Well I can't get to you very well if you're laying down, silly.”
“O-oh!” he stammered again, quickly scrambling to his landing gear, but something made him hesitate again.
He wanted this. God, he wanted this. He wanted her. So badly. But… Dusty flicked his eyes back to Newby, searching her gaze. Was this really okay?
"Please?" she asked then, batting her eyes a bit at him.
!!WARNING; ADULT CONTENT AHEAD!!
Oh, now how was he supposed to say no to that? Dusty gathered up all of his bravery as his ventral access panel split apart and slid back, and his cock emerged in one smooth motion as it was finally freed. He looked at Newby, and he swallowed thickly, as she wasn't looking at his face anymore. She tried not to look too shocked at what she was seeing, but it honestly looked like it belonged on a bigger plane. For Dusty's part, it still didn't feel like this was finally happening, and he was trying his damnedest to not betray that he was screaming like a little girl on the inside.
“Well,” Newby began, “Talk about expectations; that's certainly not what I was expecting.”
Dusty could only grin awkwardly at that remark. Newby moved slowly toward his tail, telegraphing her movements as if she were afraid that he would spook and run away, and truthfully, Dusty had half a mind to do just that. This was... so much. And what was even worse is that he would be able to see everything that she was about to do. Why, oh why did he get the room that had a mirror along one wall near the sleeping mat?
“Okay?”
Dusty snapped out of his thoughts as he heard Newby's voice, and could only nod in response, his tires tensing and wadding up the sheets underneath him as they turned a bit. Then he felt her finally touch him, gently pressing her lips against the tip. A heavy, keening breath escaped him as he watched her plant more massaging kisses along his length, examining and feeling him out as she went. There was no doubt in her mind now that he was not the plain, pure-bred crop duster that he looked like on the outside. She'd been with a few of them, along with some jets, to see that he indeed had some jet in him. Working vehicles, such as agricultural planes, tended to have more robust equipment, but the groupings of the rubbery nodes around the underside of the head, with two rows going down each side of the underside, plus the arrangement of the thin plates that made up the outer shell also spoke of the elegance of jets.
Her touches, while still feather light, were threatening to overwhelm Dusty entirely, and he closed his eyes and pulled in a deep breath to steady himself, then he yelped when something soft and wet began brushing over the head of his phallus. His eyes flew open to find Newby flickering her tongue, running over his slit and collecting the precum that had been dripping. His dick jumped at her touch, and he nearly failed to stop himself from kicking his body forward. He shivered, biting his lip to hold back another embarrassing noise.
“Newby...” he breathed.
Then she licked along the sensitive underside of it before taking him further into her mouth, and Dusty moaned loudly, rough and needy. It was even harder now to keep from thrusting forward as she slowly moved back and forth, and he practically whimpered with the effort it took to hold himself still. She had only taken about half of him, but the wet heat of her mouth felt incredible. He wanted so badly to buck up into her mouth, but he didn't want to hurt her. His landing gear shook and twitched, but he managed to otherwise stay still and watched, enraptured, as she took down more and more of him. It was too good already. Distantly, Dusty realized that this could quickly become a problem. He had been worked up for way too long, and was dangerously close to making a complete fool of himself. She pushed forward even further, and as he felt himself bottom out against what he knew was the back of her throat, he cried out, threatening to stutter forward again as he chased the sensation and- oh. Oh no. He felt that familiar coiling pressure, that intensifying tingling, threatening to snap if he wasn't careful.
“Newby,” Dusty panted, “I'm-”
As soon as the words left his mouth, she pulled off of him. He was painfully close, and they both watched as another bead of precum immediately welled up and dripped down onto the sheets.
“Damn, Dusty, you're really worked up,” Newby said, turning and coming back up to his face, and giving him a soft kiss. “But I'm guessing you'd rather try and save it for somewhere else, huh? Why don't we give you a break for a little bit then?”
This girl was going to be the death of him; she already knew, and instead of causing him relief, it only turned him on that much more. In lieu of simply telling him what she had in mind, she moved away, moving out onto the floor onto one of the rugs and turned her back to him, facing the mirror. She tilted her nose up, extending her control surfaces, showing him her back as she lowered down on her landing gear. It was an openly suggestive, flirtatious movement, one of the few formal gestures that aircraft had for one another, and it was triggering all sorts of reactions in Dusty's hind-brain as he watched her.
“Would you like to return the favor?” Newby finally asked.
“Yes!” Dusty nearly shouted before catching himself, “I-I mean– Please. Yes...”
She then lifted her tail for him, her own ventral access panel opening, revealing herself to him, and it was obvious that she was just as turned on as he was. The smell of her, which had been slowly growing more and more intense, was hitting him full in the face now, and he could see glistening hints of her arousal in the tights folds of her cunt already.
Dusty tore his eyes away long enough to look up at her face in the mirror, and he saw her smile and nod. He turned back to her sex, and, hesitating for only a moment, gave a cursory lick up the length of her entrance. Newby let out a sighing little gasp that he was immediately taken by. He needed to hear it again. Dusty's tongue danced over the rubbery nub of her clitoris a few moments before moving back and going deeper in and licking right up into her. His eyes stayed locked onto her face, watching as her green eyes slid closed and her lips parted in another sigh. Hearing her gasp and cry out as he worked caused him to release a low hum as he put the dexterity of an aircraft's tongue to the test, his engine rumbling softly into it as his cock gave a great throb, because he knew it was him causing her to make those soft, sweet little noises.
“Dusty?” she panted.
“Yes?” he responded after retracting his tongue.
“I'd like more, if you would. Please.”
While it may have been a battle between his mind and his dick earlier, he didn't need to be told twice now, and he heaved himself up over her back, albeit a little clumsily. He wanted more of her too. Her scent, and now her taste, had flipped his systems over into full breeding mode. He twitched his tail gear up slightly, adjusting his position and pressing against her entrance as she shifted over a bit to allow him better access. Then he began pushing into her. He nearly choked on a moan at how wet and hot she was inside. This was it. This was really happening. Newby panted hard and fast through her intakes as she felt herself stretched further and further, causing the most pleasurable ache as her body tried its best to adapt to him, but then he suddenly stopped.
"Dusty?" she asked breathlessly.
"Mmnn," was Dusty's reply, struggling with the concept of the spoken word at this point. Having been so focused on her pleasure earlier, he had thought that he had calmed down sufficiently. “Just... Gimme a second...”
“You close again?”
“Y-yeah...”
“Don't worry, I'll move for you.”
Newby shifted her frame a little, and began to carefully back herself onto him. All of his higher brain functions had seemed to cease, focused only on the little female under him and the all the points where their frames were touching. Her frame fit him so well and her plating was so warm smooth; Dusty was about to lose it and cum his brains out before she had even taken it all. Finally, he was fully hilted inside of her, Newby moaning softly at the incredible feeling of her opening stretched around the girthy base of his cock. Dusty opened his eyes just in time to see her eyes rolling back as they closed, panting deeply through her open mouth, still struggling to keep his own breathing level as she started to gently move against him. To her credit, she really was being very mindful in lifting her tail and arching back up without shifting him too much inside her, but he felt amazing and she only had so much control over how her body reacted. Feeling her walls spasm around him, Dusty sucked in his next breath sharply through his intake and quickly clutched her hard in his landing gear to hold her still.
"Slow," he begged, "please, slow."
Newby changed her tactics then, switching to a languid, shallow grinding. Dusty shivered, keeping his eyes locked on her face as he twitched and throbbed inside of her. His mouth was hung open, each exhale coming out in a small, keening whine. Her movements quickened slightly again, and every now and then, despite her best efforts, her walls would clench. Dusty found himself pressing up into her, struggling to not thrust. He needed more as his engine made odd sounds as it would suddenly turn over and thrum up before dying away again.
“Newby... Newby...” he murmured, using his landing gear to pull her against him, and she let out a soft exhaling whine.
"I-I'm close," she panted, rocking against him in a steady rhythm as her voice began to pitch higher. "Don't cum yet, wait for me."
“Oh... Oh, god... fuck... I... I can't,” Dusty barely got out as he failed to hold back another thrust.
“Th-there!” Newby gasped, and her movements lost their rhythm and she came undone.
Dusty forced himself to keep his eyes open; he needed to see her face as she came on his dick. She cried out and keened as she felt it rush upon her, her entire frame going rigid. Then it hit her as she clamped down hard around the pair of larger nodes at the base of his phallus, and his final remaining self-control snapped; he was going to cum whether he wanted to or not now. His engine stuttered and revved harder as he instinctively thrust once, twice, then finally let go with a hoarse, strangled sound from his throat, and everything faded away but the sounds and sensations of their coupling as his cock kicked hard, unloading his seed into her. Newby continued gently rocking back into him, soft gasps and whimpers tumbling from her lips as she felt herself being filled.
Dusty panted hard above her, his body shaking. His arousal had still not waned. The pleasure of his first orgasm with a partner had gone straight to his head and overwhelmed him, and all rational thought was replaced with the need for more. Newby nearly squealed in surprise as he began thrusting again in earnest.
“Dusty!” she yelped in ecstasy, spurring him on.
“Sorry, 'msorry, feels so good,” he slurred as he drove into her like a plane possessed.
His strokes came in deep and fast, needing to bury himself as deep within her as he possibly could, not just for his own pleasure, but he wanted to make her cum again all by himself. Newby cried out against the onslaught, her tiny wheels bracing against the rug, not expecting the amount of power she was experiencing from a plane his size as Dusty was losing himself to the tight heat, to the rise of her moans, and the sweet sounds of her begging him to go harder, faster, deeper...
Her pussy had started fluttering around him again, and, hopeful that she would achieve another climax, he adjusted his angle and set a savage rhythm despite the servos and hydraulics in this landing and tail gear painfully screaming at him. Newby shrieked as she was driven into, and Dusty felt his over-stimulation morph into that coiling feeling, tighter and tighter. Fuck! Not yet!
“Gonna... Oh god, gonna cum again...” he breathed.
“Dusty,” Newby gasped, lifting her tail now to meet his thrusts, “You can do it. I'm... almost there. Again... Please, again!”
Her pleading drove him on, and his engine throttled up again roughly, only instead of dying away like it had been doing, the RPMs clicked over down into a low but loud, reverberating hum. Newby's insides immediately tightened down on him again upon her own release once the nodes along his cock amplified the vibrations, and once again sent him over the edge. He groaned through gritted teeth as he felt himself throb and pump more of his cum into her, the mental image of all of it dripping out of her when they were done causing him to shudder euphorically as he exhaled roughly at every jet.
They remained connected for a long, blissful moment as they both caught their breath, but mostly because Dusty was unable to move but for continuing to gently press himself into Newby with slow little thrusts. Not that Newby minded at all; she was used to putting up with the weight of heavier partners after all. The former crop duster whimpered at how sensitive he was as he started to come back down from his high. He could probably go again, but he was exhausted and he was sure that Newby was going to be quite sore after this, if she wasn't already. Although he was sure from her reaction that her underestimation of his endurance had been yet another pleasant surprise, that would have to wait for next time.
But would there be a next time? An odd feeling grew in his belly at the thought. Both planes had the distinct, inexplicable feeling after this encounter that they did not belong to each other. At least, not in any kind of exclusive or permanent way, but they did belong to each other in that the memory of this night was precious to both of them, and they both knew without a doubt that the other felt the same somehow. Dusty squeezed Newby fondly in his landing gear.
“That was amazing,” Newby said with a soft laugh, and she saw Dusty smile tiredly in the mirror at her.
“Yeah... it was. I'm... I'm, uh... I'm... gonna pull out now,” he said, feeling his face grow hot.
Why that embarrassed him after everything they just did, he wasn't sure. Newby made a slightly pained gasp, whining a bit at the way her body continued to hold onto him as he attempted to pull out. Finally, after some gentle, gradual tugging, his dick came free, bringing a large amount of accumulated ejaculate with it.
“Well that rug's toast,” he remarked, and the soft gaze that Newby gave him in response made his face grow even hotter.
Then Dusty slid off of her, and his landing gear damn near gave way the very instant they hit the floor. His hydraulics and servos, some of the components of which had only been used for the very first time tonight, felt like they were going to explode, but he needed to tend to Newby first before he would allow himself to lie down. He started licking her tenderly, gently cleaning her of their fluids.
“I'm not hurting you, am I?” he asked in a soft voice, after hearing her stifle a few small grunts and mewls.
“No, it's okay,” Newby replied, “Thank you.”
“You don't need to thank me,” Dusty said, a tiny spark of annoyance flaring up inside him at her reponse's implication of her past partners not offering to do this.
After he felt she was sufficiently clean, they both went over to the sleeping mat, where he all but collapsed down onto it, physically unable to stand any longer. Newby came to lay down close beside him, leaning against him and nuzzling him.
!!END ADULT CONTENT!!
“Thank you for, um... that...,” he started.
“You don't need to thank me,” she teased, throwing his words back at him as she playfully nudged him. “Besides, you were really great. I'm glad we did this.”
Dusty smiled as they simultaneously leaned against one another then, cuddling and purring, the thought of what might happen between now and the time that they see each other again never crossing their minds to trouble them. They had this night, and even if they were to never have another again, life being as unpredictable as it was, it was still more than enough.
The next morning, Dusty was with Skipper at Reno-Tahoe International, preparing for the flight home. His mentor eyed the ginger way in which his smaller companion had been taxiing and moving around with knowing suspicion.
“So what all did you get up to last night after I left the bar,” the old Corsair asked casually.
“Oh, nothing much,” Dusty tried to deflect, but he was sure Skipper already knew.
“Indeed. I was young once...” Skipper trailed off without going on to elaborate further.
Dusty would have only half paid attention anyway, his mind repeating Newby's words that morning before going their separate ways back to their lives.
“Don't forget to look me up when you're in town next year,” she said to him after kissing him deeply. “And even if something has changed by then, please, don't you ever stop dancing.”