Bush Pilot

It was the closest I've ever been to hell, and heaven, on this earth.

My name is Christine Wonderle. I'm a divorced, 32 year old small transport plane pilot in Alaska, one of the hundreds of "bush pilots" that earn their living in Alaska, ferrying people and goods from small town to encampment, and back again. Alaska is pretty much as wild as people picture it, with many areas only accessible by plane or boat. I'm good looking, and don't lack for dates, but I'd been working hard on my business, so I didn't get out much socially.

I had been contracted to bring a pictorial team for "Venture" magazine out to a pretty wild part of the state, but a particularly picturesque one. The stay was supposed to be for 3 days, arriving in the mid afternoon the first day, setting up, shooting pics the second day, then returning at first light of the 3rd day. I was carrying a photographer, Mike Shannon, and a young 'supermodel,' Misty Wikkins, an up and comer in the business. She was supposed to model a series of summer and fall outfits for a pictorial. It was springtime, and darn chilly where we'd be headed.

I'd never met either of them, but I'd done work for Venture before, and knew the routine. I only hoped that turbulence in my Cessna wouldn't cause either of them to get sick. After all, small planes aren't much like a 767! As it turned out, they were both troupers. Unfortunately, just before landing at an unnamed lake identified only by its GPS coordinates, we hit a wind shear and slammed into the lake sideways.

The plane tore off the right wing, skated on the pontoons for about 200 yards, then settled in the chilly water upside down. I had slammed my head against the instrument panel, losing consciousness momentarily, but came to when I heard a woman screaming. I struggled back to consciousness, and took necessary action to aid survivors.

It was obvious that Misty was alive, from her cries in the back. I looked next to me at Mike. I could see from the blank, staring look in his eyes, and the unnatural angle of his neck, that he hadn't made it. Although we were in no danger of sinking as long as the pontoons retained air, water was coming in and hypothermia was an immediate problem. I reached back to Misty, and on feeling my touch, she immediately calmed down.

"Misty, we've got to get out, now," I said. She nodded, and said, "Mike?"

"I'm sorry, Misty, Mike didn't make it. But we can survive, If we do the right things, right now," I said, looking directly into her brown eyes. She nodded again, and I followed my training. We soon found ourselves on shore, with almost no supplies. Soon, we were spotted by a search plane, and picked up, to return to our lives.

A month later, I had worked hard to forget what had happened, and put my life back in order. Insurance had paid for the plane, and I was working to put my small business back on an operating basis.

That's why I was so surprised to receive a call from Misty.

"Christine, I'd like to come visit you. May I?" Misty said.

"I'm pretty busy, Misty, I'm trying to get started again, and-" I began.

"Please, Christine, please." Simply that, no explanation of what she wanted. I sighed.

"Okay, if you must. I'm at-" I began again.

"I know," Misty said. What could this 18 year old budding superstar model want with me, an aging female bush pilot? Yes, we had a tragedy in common, but it needed to be put behind us, I thought.

Three days later, I heard a quiet knocking on my apartment door. I opened it to see Misty standing there, much as I remembered her. About 5'9" tall, maybe 95 pounds, long, silken brown hair, deep brown eyes, perfectly complexioned, perfect, white teeth, a modest bosom and perfectly proportioned ass, and an absolutely beautiful face. You've seen her on countless fashion runways since then. She's still a wildly successful model.

I compared her to myself and thought there really was no comparison. I'm 5' 5", 130 pounds, light blonde hair that's already got a few, stray silver hairs, tits that are too big, an ass wider than I'd like, though on the good side, people say I'm quite attractive, though I've noticed faint crows-feet at the corners of my blue eyes. I sighed.

"Uhh, hi Misty, won't you come in?" I said, with as much courtesy as a roughhewn pilot could muster. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you a tea, or coffee, or-" I said, but not knowing how to finish.

"Water would be fine, really," she said. She looked at me then, for a long time, not saying anything, after I brought her a glass of spring water. Finally, though, she spoke.

"You don't remember, do you?" She said.

"Remember what? The crash? The rush to get out of the plane? The rescue? Misty, I can't sleep at night because that's all I think about." I said, with a sigh. "That's all I think about."

"You don't remember, do you?" She said again. "You're blocking out. Think about what you just said."

"What do you mean?" I said. "The whole spectrum of events still parades through my mind. How about you?"

"Don't change the subject," she said. I looked at her curiously. "The whole spectrum, you said," Misty repeated. "But it's not."

"But it is," I said. "From start to finish. Crash, 5 minutes out of my life. Leaving the plane and pulling out essentials, 3 hours. The rescue a few hours after that, 5 hours from pickup to landing in Anchorage. That's it."

"Christine, we weren't found for 5 days," Misty said quietly.

"Oh, god, I, I, don't, know- I don't know what, what you, you mean-" I began. For some reason I started crying. Misty took me in her arms and held me as I sobbed, and I didn't even know why I was crying.

"It's okay, baby, let it out, let it go," she said soothingly. Here I was, a 32 year old blue collar female sobbing and shaking in the willowy arms of an 18 year old kid, with absolutely no idea of what was going on. I felt the brush of her lips on the back of my neck as she held me, and the gesture brought images of lips meeting in passion, of hands softly stroking necks. I don't know where they came from.

Eventually, my soft crying slowed and stopped. I pulled back from her, and looked at her again. Something was familiar about seeing Misty's beautiful, placid face from such a close distance. "It's coming back to you now, isn't it...baby?" Memories flooded my mind now, images of my putting together a small structure to protect us from the weather, of drying out our wet clothing so that we wouldn't suffer hypothermia, of our sharing our bodies' warmth to keep from freezing. And then, our first shared kiss, our thrusting our loins together, and exploding in passion, the feel of her wet pussy as I thrust my fingers inside her. Her cries, and moans, and my equally passionate replies, as we brought each other to orgasm after orgasm in our simple little shelter. Praying for rescue, but dreading it too, as it would mean an end to our...what?

The memory kept flooding in. Our first night together, when shock fully hit us both, and we both nearly died. How I stripped down and wrapped Misty in my clothes to preserve her body heat, then wrapped myself around her soft, supple body. How our faces, so close together in seeking warmth, brought our lips together in a passionate kiss, one that went on for hours and hours, while Misty was delirious and I was rational.

Then, less clear, the second day, when Misty had returned to sanity and recovered from mourning for her good friend Mike, but I was hit with some kind of infection from the lake water. I dimly recall Misty returning the favor as I shivered in fever and delirium, removing all her clothes and wrapping me in them, then embracing me and infusing me with life. Her lips to mine, her mouth to mine, the feel of her soft breasts reassuring, the smell of her musky pussy vaguely comforting me. The final 2 nights, with both of us fatigued, a crude mutual sleeping bag formed out of our now dry clothing, the two of us cocooned naked inside it, joined at every point.

Sisters. Lovers. One from two. We were joined in so many ways then. And I had shut it all out of my mind.

"Misty, I remember now. We were so close, but I shut out all memory of our experience," I marveled. "I'm sorry, I don't know why..."

"Christine, you've still been in shock this whole time," Misty said.

She looked into my eyes, held my hands in hers and said, "you helped me to survive, can I help you to heal?"

I started crying again, and didn't fight her when she helped me stand, then led me toward my bedroom. There, she gently stripped off my clothes until I was naked, and helped me under the cool sheets of my queen size bed. A little later, as I was dozing, I felt her slip in next to me, her naked skin silky smooth and warm against mine.

She kissed me gently on the lips, and I snuggled into her, then drifted off to my first real sleep in over a month. It seemed like days later when I awoke, to find Misty asleep, her face against my naked breasts, her warm arms around me. I never felt such a sense of peace and satisfaction as I felt then. I even noticed birds chirping merrily outside my window, the beams of sunlight slanting beautifully in the window, something I'd never noticed before.

I felt Misty's eyes on me as she awoke. She pulled herself up level with my face, and looked uncertainly into my eyes. "Is this okay, Christine?" She said.

I smiled at her, and whispered, "yes. Oh, yes." She brought her lips to mine, and I felt every square inch of her soft lips as they contacted mine, the heat from her mouth exciting me, the smell of her body arousing my every pore. I felt myself wetting between my legs as her tongue tentatively entered my eager mouth, and became more demanding of me, a challenge I welcomed.

As Misty felt my hips wiggling from the unfamiliar sensations of sexual arousal, her hand softly traced over my hip, and rather impudently seized on my bare pussy. I was at first embarrassed by my wetness, but when Misty slipped her slim index finger inside me, my embarrassment soon evaporated, replaced by lust and desire for this beautiful woman. I thrust my hips against her soft, smooth hand, and she plunged deeper inside me. Our tongues battled so intimately, and my hand went naturally to caress her perfect breasts.

Misty purred, and lay back, her fingers still caressing my labia softly. I took one of her pink nipples into my mouth, and gently rasped my tongue across the stiffening flesh, as it hardened into a nub. The perfume of her body as it heated up with passion overwhelmed me, sexual excitement infusing me. Her other hand held my mouth against her, as she whispered to me.

"Christine, Chris, I've missed your touch so much, I need you on me, and in me, and with me. Love me, love my body, kiss me, be mine my love." Her words inflamed me further. "I desire only you, sweet Chris, be mine forever, touch me." I suckled harder at her breast, and she groaned with passion, clutching me harder to her as she came in the first of dozens of mini-orgasms. My hand sought out her wet pussy, and easily slipped between her legs, as she was spreading them for me, to allow me the most intimate access.

"Yes, please, touch me Chris, there, and there!" Small gasps of pleasure escaped from Misty as she came under my touch. I slid my finger around her cunt more aggressively, then, seeking out the silky pearl of her clit. The moment I touched it, Misty shuddered in ecstasy, and sped up her fingering of my pussy, setting off a series of major orgasms coursing through my pleasure-wracked body. We both collapsed then, me on top of Misty, her lying supinely under me, catching our breath.

"I want to taste you, Chris. Your scent is driving me crazy," Misty said, and I lifted myself up to allow her to move. She pushed me back on the bed, and moved between my legs. I spread my legs further, as Misty looked approvingly at my full bush of blonde hair, and pink labia. I closed my eyes and released myself into her hands. Misty brought her face close to my cunt, and inhaled deeply and loudly, causing me to giggle. "I'm glad you can laugh again, Chris. I've wanted that for you." She then pushed her nose directly into my pubic hair, not into my cunt, as I hoped.

"Did you know that pubic hair, and underarm hair, evolved as wicks for sexual musk, to signal readiness to mate? Mmm, from the smell of you, I think you're ready to mate," Misty said, and I giggled again, and with a smile, said, "And does that attract you? Do you feel like mating?"

Misty grinned back and said, "Please leave your hair down here long, for me. And let your underarm hair grow, too, please? I want to smell and taste you when we make love from now on. I love your bush" I felt like a little girl. A hot, randy little girl, but young again, and eager to fuck. It had been so long...

Further thoughts went right out of my head, when her stiff tongue thrust against my slick clitoris, fireworks exploding through my head and body. I heard loud moaning, then realized it was me. I soared through a universe of pleasure, female musk maddening me, long, supple limbs beckoning me, wet lips calling me.

"Misty, please, please...I want your pussy on my mouth, now, now...now, and forever, love. Please," I said weakly. Misty lost no time in moving herself into a 69 position, her hips poised above my face, her lips still grasping my clit softly. I pulled her musky pussy close to me, her well-trimmed brown pubic bush just hairy enough to hold her delicious scent for me, and lapped at the creamy moisture collecting inside her. I had never tasted another woman's pussy before, and knew now that I would always remember Misty's essence filling my senses.

For countless hours we pleasured each other's vaginas with our tongues, and blossomed under each other's touch, Misty on top attacking me on occasion, I overwhelming her at other times. I discovered my new-found appreciation of the female body, caressing Misty's beautifully formed and delicious ass. I found that the very sight, taste and smell of Misty's naked rear end could cause me to cum, and I came repeatedly that way. Misty's orgasms, too, were countless, and soon weariness overcame us.

Before we both dropped off to a long, 18 hour nap, I murmured to Misty, "Why me, Misty? I wasn't a lesbian. How did you know?"

Her voice, fading as I nodded off comfortably, said "I wasn't a lesbian either, Chris. I just fell in love with the Christine I saw inside you..."

We've been together ever since. Misty is a top model, and budding businesswoman, investing the millions she's earning now for us against the day when she won't be beautiful on the outside.

But, she'll always be beautiful on the inside...