Mile-high club

I once read about the Mile-High Club, the group of people that had had sex in a plane. I wonder if having sex while actually being about a mile tall would be enough to qualify.

After not much thought I decide that from now on I’m the only valid member of the mile-high club. The name is much more adequate for me than for any mite-size human, in the end. I feel so strongly about it that I decide to let the people know. Looking up, my keen eyes pierce the clouds and I soon enough find some commercial jetliners.

I’m back to my full senses, so I’m not afraid to use some of my abilities again. Two new beams exit my eyes, but this time they are not meant to disintegrate but to capture. The difference in size with the now tiny jetliner is so remarkable that I almost have to apply no effort to stop it first and then to drag it towards my ready left palm. It felt easy and the plane does not really take all of my palm, so I repeat the operation with three more planes before I consider myself satisfied.

I love being able to hold four obviously packed airliners in a single palm. It’s not as if I have thought on what I’ll do with them. Their shapes are appealing but they are, of course, way too small. I don’t need them to take care of my urges, though. Three steps later I’m already straddling the Glock.

I wonder what to do with the planes.

“DID ANYONE INSIDE ANY OF THESE TOY AIRCRAFT HAVE SEX DURING THE FLIGHT?

 Without too many ideas coming to my head, I just bring my hand in front of my face and blow, sending them into their last flight.

I don’t think I’ve ever been so lubricated. I mean, I really, really need to have sex. In order to understand that, you need to take into account that if you count the days that have passed since I became sexually active, the number of screws I’ve done since then is higher. Looking like I do and thinking like I do it has been easy, really. I’ve never lacked offers.

I start bending down until my swollen lips touch the tip of the Glock. It’s kind of cold and it sends a shiver down my spine. I keep going, engulfing more of the high-rise within me as I say:

“THIS IS GOING TO BE A MASSIVE ORGY”

I wonder how many people will end up inside me. Thousands probably. I would barely feel them, were it not for the building they are at. My knees have touched the ground, and so have my lips, the Glock now completely inside me. It’s time for the most delicate operation yet: pulling out without breaking the building.

I’m more careful than I’ve been with any of my lovers over the last years. I’ve often been told that I’m as wild as I’m hot… so you can imagine how wild that makes me.

I thrust down again with care, letting the cold glass structure slide inside me. No matter how careful I am, though, a minor (at least to me) earthquake ensues once I touch the ground again. I moan, more out of power than out of physical pleasure.

I repeat the operation a couple more times. Then, I become a little rougher. It was only a matter of time before I got carried away and soon I’m riding the skyscraper like I would any guy I picked from a club.

Those buildings in the city that had been miraculously been left standing after my previous antics cannot outlast my new ones. If I were not so focused on my own horniness I would have probably put some more thought to how ironic it is for them to have been finally beaten by a love-making session, after all they’ve endured.

“YESSS!” I scream as I feel that I have finally found a match for my desires. A plane falls out of the sky and crashes not too far away from me and I snort as I realize that the only cause for it has been my lust-filled scream.

Realizing about this sort of power reinforces my arousal, which at the time makes me shove harder, making me feel even more aroused.

The ground around me is starting to break as I punish it with more and more of my body’s momentum. The city was a wasteland already, but it’s shape is starting to feel more like a moon crater as I keep going. I keep moaning as I go, effectively broadcasting my sex session live into five states.

It was too good to be true. The Glock has resisted admirably, but at some point my passion is too much for it and a too hard gyration of my hips rips it entirely from the ground.

“FUCK!” I yell aloud

I let myself fall backwards and carefully pull the building from within me. It’s still pretty much in one piece, even though just the act of holding it makes some debris rain from its base. I try using it as a more conventional dildo… but it’s no good. Apparently the building’s foundations had a lot to do with its ability to resist my efforts… up to a certain point. The second time I try to push it inside me, the entire skyscraper starts breaking.

“FUCK!” I say again, this time even louder

Out of frustration, I push the Glock even harder. It crumbles into pieces inside me. I stand up and then, out of frustration, I stomp down hard. Anything that was left standing fifty miles around me goes down. I don’t think I have ever feel so frustrated. I was so close to what promised to be the best orgasm in my entire life… I’m really close to throwing a temper tantrum.

I manage to keep calm long enough to look around me, trying to find an alternative to the Glock. Unfortunately, the area around me is nothing but a massive swamp now… thanks to me.

The world is saved from a second, harder stomp when my eyes set on something in the distance. Of course, I know Carlson’s Peak. At my height, I can see its snowy top even from this distance. I know the rich and powerful in Palmsdale ski there, even in summer. It’s one of the only ski resorts in the country that’s open all year long. Almost without thinking, I start walking towards it. My body stretches as I do.

My foot covers a slightly bigger area and sinks a little deeper with each step. My view of the landscape is also getting wider and wider as I advance. Carlson’s peak is about level with my knees by the time I’ve covered the 100 miles to it, less than five minutes later. I’ve never been too good at math, but I don’t think I’d be too far away if I said that I’m about 10 miles tall.

The night is dark, but this does not prevent me from seeing different cloud layers as I look down. The lowest ones reach my mid-shin. Others are right in front of my knees, pussy, belly-button and tits.

From this high I can see hundreds of cities at the other side of the mountain range. I cannot prevent vaporizing one of the largest ones with two carefully aimed shots from my eyes. It was so tempting. When I see a cloud raising to form a familiar mushroom shape I cannot hold myself anymore and I straddle the mountain with ease.

Then I move down on the peak. I see hundreds of tiny lights in the air as I do so. I had not seen them before since they were too low for my new viewpoint. I realize with admiration that standard commercial planes fly at about the height of my belly-button now.

I forget about them the moment my lips engulf the mountain. Two ski stations, three dozen hotels and four villages get deep inside me as my knees bend and I work my way down the mountain slopes. I let go my loudest moan yet and hundreds of lights in the air suddenly turn into explosions.

I’m even hornier than the moment I met the Glock for the first time, so I get rough almost immediately. In the end, if a mountain cannot offer some sort of resilience to me, what will?

I wonder if I will be heard from the East Coast as I keep thrusting and moaning in unison. I never knew that the Carlson was an inactive volcano or something. Well, the truth is that it probably isn’t. I guess that with all my pounding I might have turned the Earth crust into some sort of pudding, so previous geological knowledge doesn’t matter too much anymore.

The moment the mountain “ejects” its burning stream of lava into me is unexpected, but it’s incredibly welcome. The planet and I reach our climax at the same time and I yell so loud that a few of the illuminated cities in the distance catch on fire a few seconds later. Only God knows what sort of disaster my voice created there.

The feeling of the lava is so pleasurable that it moves me to thrust one last time. It’s a mistake. What I thought impossible finally happens. I’ve broken the mountain. I hardly care. I can just let myself drop backwards, as the peak of Carlson’s Peak rolls down my thighs. My body hits the ground with the force of a thousand hydrogen bombs, finishing those cities within my view that had miraculously survived until now. I’m panting heavily. Then, the stars start to blur and I doze off. My last thought as the sky turns completely dark is that life cannot get any better!

End of Vicki’s first day as a Giantess