Im pilot handling. I'm also Captain, so there's no one to look to for help. The buck rests firmly on my four barred shoulders. The flight was unremarkable, the approach was perfect, but when we touched down, two tyres blew out. Oh, we practice emergencies in the simulator until we die of boredom, but the real thing....that's something else. The aircraft told me something was amiss in the usual way, a shitload of red lights, bells, and warning flags. Even without all this, I would have guessed something was wrong because it didn't want to steer straight either. For a few seconds, I had my hands full, literally. Reverse thrust, check reverse operating, stay straight, lots of rudder inputs as tyres worked their way off rims, and weren't too fussy about which direction they did it in, and then, at the moment my fucking great big rudder became ineffective, over to the far less effective tiller which steers the whole fucking thing via the nose-wheel. I could use body gear steering because of the defective tyres. Emergencies aren't over when they're over. For one, I had a planeload of,passengers and crew stuck on a runway. For another, airports rather like using their runways, and I was being a definite nuisance sat there. For another, when anything like this happens, there a shitload of paperwork, and a meeting with the chief pilot. Bugger.
So, back in the crew room, I felt odd. This was my first real in flight emergency, and I guess it should have left its mark, but I felt decidedly odd, and I couldn't put my finger on it. The Management captain was female, and she listened to what had happened, (she had already talked to my F/O, and the ground maintenance staff who had already pulled the flight data....they don't piss about) and she knew I hadn't over braked, and that this was one of those things. No one to blame, just a burst tyre...well...two as it turned out, and a third that needed replacement. Then, she turned off the tape. (Meetings like this are recorded for the flight safety people, in case I change my story). "Now" she said " I'm going to say something that might sound odd. You are feeling.....strange....correct?" I replied that I was. "Yes. It's not in any of the books, but when something like this happens, your body goes into hyperdrive to cope with it. You are flooded with adrenaline. What you need is a flood of dopamine. What you need, is sex. My advice to you is go and do something....different, kind to yourself." So saying she left the room. A few minutes later so did I. The airfield I was on has one single runway, but the grounds are massive. So big, in fact that on the north perimiter there are several flight schools, and on the south and east perimeters, nothing but massive fields. There was talk of developing the area and maybe even a second runway, but those plans came to nothing. I decided that a good long walk would help, so I notified airport security (they can be a trifle tetchy about people wandering aimlessly around their airfields) and toddled off. By the time I passed the flight schools, the tears were rolling uncontrollably down my face. Stupid reaction, but when you're responsible for so many lives, even though this wasn't a life threatening event, it brings home that while flying if the safest form of transport it isn't without risk. Half a mile further on, in the green area where there are only a couple of WW2 pill boxes, it hit me hard. I felt almost uncontrollably horny. I could feel the wetness between my legs, and I touched myself over my uniform trousers....even they felt damp, and for a moment, I wondered if I'd actually wet myself. I passed the first pill box, and was approaching the second. By now, my breasts actually ached, my nipples went one better and hurt, and my clit......fucking hell.....my clit was on fire! These pill boxes lost their roofs years ago, and so they are free from Australia's usual complement of large hairy spiders, or snakes. I ducked into this one, and loosened the waistband of my trousers and let them fall to my knees. My panties followed, and I saw the large wet patch. I slipped my hand up under my uniform shirt and cupped my right breast. The touch was almost agony. I don't know what I intended. I guess I'd decided to masturbate as I usually do, taking my time, gently stimulating myself, building the orgasm until finally allowing it to take me. Whatever I intended, that's not what happened. Almost instantly, I found myself leaning forward from the wall, being supported only by my bum and my feet which were out in front of me, and my knees were bent, and I had two fingers inside myself and was fucking myself hard.....really hard. Hard and fast. The last time anything like this happened was when I'd asked a boyfriend to pretend to force me. He had literally ripped off my clothes, torn a hole in my tights and fucked me really violently. I had loved it! And that's what I was doing to myself now. I realised the pain in my right boob wasn't oversensitivity, it was because I was squeezing it and pinching the nipple so hard, I almost split the skin. The orgasm wasn't pretty. It slammed into me making me scream out loud. Thank fuck there were no groundstaff anywhere close. I yelled, screamed, swore, came and came and came, and squirted down the wall. Sometimes during sexual release, pain helps. There was something sharp digging into my back, and as the orgasm hit, I pressed back against it, rebelling in the pain....it helped the orgasm too. I have no idea how long I stayed there, arse against the wall, leaning forward over my knees and panting. I remember coming down from the orgasm and thinking at one point that if anyone appeared in the pillbox's doorway, anyone at all, airport staff or tramp, I would let them take me any way they wished. Eventually, though, I did come back to earth, and I realised the management Captain had been right. The rush of dopamine had counteracted the adrenaline, and I felt normal again. Back in the offices, I learned that my aircraft was to have all the wheels and tyres replaced on the port main, even though the others looked ok. There's always a risk of metal shavings perforating what appears to be a healthy tyre. I caught up with the management Captain about an hour or so later, after I'd typed up my incident report. "You look so much better" she said with a wry little smile.
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