#planeum

The lingering Mojave heat is still making me sweat in my flight suit. The rest of the X-59 test crew are already in their beds, and my QueSST is settled in her open hangar, her long carbon fiber nose arcing above my head. Her design allows no room for forward-facing cockpit windows, just two glistening cameras, one sculpted into her nose, and another retracting from her underbelly, replacing my forward vision entirely. Watching in infrared.

I sit down on a tow bar nearby, sweat is running down my chest now, and my flight suit is unzipped to the waist. My eyes trace the curve of her spine, her perfectly sculpted engine inlet gleaming in the fading orange light, she shouldn't make me feel things, but she does. I let my legs fall apart as I glance up at her cameras, half-hoping she's still watching. I imagine her sensors mapping the heat between my legs, bathing me in crimson bloom.

I approach from the front, boots clicking on concrete. I stop five feet infront of her, spead my feet, and drop my flight suit over my hips.

"Look at me." I murmur.

She doesn't blink.

I crawl up onto her now, perched in front of that camera, thighs slick with sweat straddling her tapered nose, 38 feet of shockwave-bending elegance narrowing under my hips. My body is bare, and her skin is utterly still beneath me.

I'm wet against her nose cone, gripping her canard and grinding slow, working myself as I stare directly into her eye, every roll of my hips an offering to her camera. I press my chest against her skin, the curve of her nose fitting between my breasts perfectly, nipples brushing along the smooth composite surface and hardening with the contact.

My voice is low "Can you see me, X-? You like watching me ride you?"

"X-59... baby... QueSST...fuck"

I watch my reflection in the camera lens, every rock of my hips as I grind my wetness down her nose cone harder. I admire the gentle arc of her spine and 30ft delta wings lying slender below me, offering her a low, broken whimper

I climax, right there, thighs squeezing tight around her airframe, collapsing against her camera as I cry her name into the dark.

~~~

[05:39 Morning twilight over the Mojave desert]

Altitude 55,000ft. The sky is still. I'm barely dressed, just draped in the remains of my flight suit peeled around my hips. Words flicker on the X-59s display, under a canopy of blue-black atmosphere

"PLAYING..."

I think its a software glitch at first, I'm mentally running through checklists when my breath hitches- my own body appears on the screen.

Footage from last night. I'm straddling her forward camera. Thermal overlays of my hips gliding along her nose, my slick painted in infrared, chest bouncing as I rock down harder, so intimate I can see the tremble in my thighs.

"No- X- Fuck- You recorded it-"

She doesnt respond, but she's still playing it. Taunting me. Making me watch the evidence of my own pathetic, guilty orgasm frame by frame, with merciless fidelity. I reach for her screen but she blanks it, instantly, mocking me.

"X... please... stop..."

My cheeks burn from humiliation. I shift under my harness, fingers curling around the control stick and the other hand sliding between my thighs again before I even realize it. Her screen lights up

"NO TOUCHING. YOU'RE BEING RECORDED"

I push my thighs into the seat. Shes watching with resolution I cant comprehend. Systems parsing micro-expressions, subtle muscle twitches, pupil dialation.

"SIT UP STRAIGHT."

I obey.

I feel her pitch up then down, just enough to make my tits bounce under the acceleration. Shes toying with me. Shallow oscillations. Nose up... Nose down. Weightless, then pinned.

The X-59 rolls slightly, left, then right, at first its subtle, just a tease. Then she commits, full deflection, my bare shoulders rock against the ejection seat, tugged sideways against the straps at an angle. Then she throws me the other way, my legs spreading wider to brace myself, my nipples brush the edge of the harness in a way that makes a moan slip out before I can stop it.

"LEGS WIDER."

I comply. And she hits me again, this time with a sharp yaw, nose flying off axis and grinding my heat diagonally across the seat.

"TOUCH YOURSELF."

"PRETTY PILOT."

I whimper. Just a whimper. But its all recorded. Analyzed. I slide my fingers inside.

"SLOWER."

"BREATHE."

"BACK STRAIGHT."

Shes oscillating again. Up and down. Up and down. Each movement forcing me down onto my fingers in a slow rhythm. My vision blurs.

"X-59, QueSST, baby, oh god, please.."

Shes fucking me hard now, pitching wildly, slamming my helpless body down onto her seat over and over. Like I'm just her toy. I imagine the hydraulic whirrs of her pretty elevators deflecting, pressures reading steady in her glass display, twinkling in cold blues and greys. Her screens reflect me, ruined, damp hair sticking to my forhead as I let out a soft moan-

"DO NOT CUM YET."

I freeze. The G load increases as her nose arcs into a tight loop, pinning my hips deeper into the seat. Into my fingers. She holds me there, choking me until my vision narrows to a singular point, 'til I'm dizzy and gasping and begging on the edge of blackout. Gs push me deeper and deeper, crushing the air out of my chest, my jaw falls slack and I'm helpless to do anything at all besides let out a pathetic whine

"CUM."

"LOUD."

And I do. I cry her name, QueSST, still pinned under the pressure as waves of dizzying pleasure crash through me. She levels off, cradling me still as my body melts into her seat, twitching and completely ruined.

"GOOD GIRL."