Carb heat, Throttle, Fuel Mixture, Flaps.Directly in front of the seat was a device called a Yoke. A cut down and squared-off wheel, it was a push-pul..., left-right control. Amy mounted into the cabin from the right hand door, a similar Yoke in front of her seat.NOT the stick of the Cub. What with the mass of instruments in the Cessna, I knew I was going to miss the simplicity of the Cub.Rats ... bought the wrong thing ... again.We buckled up.Amy said, “Hands just touching the yoke, feet resting. She kept moaning and I kept pounding. This was not making love; this was pure unadulterated sex for pleasure. She loved it and I did, too. I suppose I should have thought more about her actions at the time, but I was horny, too, and was enjoying the completely physical encounter.She stayed in that position, her hands on her knees, as I slammed my dick into her. I looked down at how hard I was holding her hips where my fingers were gripping tight enough that there might even be marks left on. More

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