Date: Sun, 3 Nov 2002 14:10:10 -0800 (PST)
From: Lisa Summers <uarkfan2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bush Pilot (F/F, oral, romance)

This is a fictional story of sex between two consenting adult women. Don't
read it if you're too young, etc. Also, please make a donation to this free
board so that I can continue to post more stories like this. Thanks!
Copyright 2002, Lisa Summers.

=======================================

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 Wikkins.

"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 dozed off, 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 perfume 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 like 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 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....

======================================

Well, it's been a while since I had a new story out, sorry for the delay! I
hope you enjoyed this one. Please write me at uarkfan2001@yahoo.com and let
me know what you think!

Love, Lisa