© copyright 1999-2000
revised 2002

My name is Karen. I have a reputation as a no nonsense sort of person so you can imagine my parents and friends surprise when I married a man always looking for a thrill. In fact, he maintained he chased after me for the thrill of capturing and fucking a virgin, a rarity these day.

Something he hadn't counted on, however, came to pass. He fell in love. We have now been married for two years.

Six months ago he took up skydiving and immediately fell in love with the sport. It became an obsession... he couldn't get enough of it.

Apparently, he found skydiving to be the ultimate thrill... my subtle suggestion for moderation didn't seem to get thru to him.

Ultimately, skydiving dominated his ever waking hour... every evening, weekends, and several times in the early morning before he went to work. Not to imply he was jumping out of a plane day and night, but he could fill his hours, when not actually jumping, with folding and re-folding his chutes, meeting with friends who had a similar fervor for the sport... in general, on his mind all the time.

We knew this was beginning to have an effect on our marriage. In his infinite wisdom, he thought that if he could instill the same love of the sport in me, our common interest would strengthen our relationship. I'll have to admit, he was very convincing... at least to the point of joining him at his weekend rally's. I had such a fear of height, his vision of me ever jumping with him was, as far as I was concerned, a real pipe dream.

I really done my part. I thru myself into total participation with him, everything but the jumping. I eventually knew as much or more about the sport as his friends, his jumping friends. I just didn't jump.

Eventually, however, my limited roll wasn't enough... it became unfulfilling.

Without his knowledge, I began to train in ernest with a friend of his... someone who would keep my confidence if I failed to follow thru actually jumping from a plane. I didn't want him to know I tried if I couldn't actually go thru with it.

The day came... my first jump... I didn't sleep a wink the night before. Morning came, I decided I couldn't do it. To be fair to my instructor friend, I drove to the small airport where we were to meet... I wanted to at least look him in the eye when I admitted I was to afraid.

I don't know if I knew beforehand or not... I was to nervous to remember... but when I arrived at the meeting point, there were nine other female jumpers who were taking their maiden jump.

Bill, my instructor friend, was stressing out, trying to make sure everyone was prepared, answering questions, checking equipment. He didn't want to hear my petty reasons for chickening out. In fact, he was rather short with me... and demanded, at the very least, I prepare to go up. He could see the fear in my eyes and softened a bit... said for me to go up and he would make sure I was the last one to jump. If I changed my mind I wouldn't have to deal with the other women trying to change my mind.

Accepting the fairness of his proposal, I quickly dressed, checked my equipment and boarded the plane.

As we taxied down the runway I scanned the other women's faces looking for the tiniest appearance of fear... to let me know I wasn't alone in this paralyzing condition. Not a hint from any of them... concluding... I must be the biggest chicken shit on the plane. I realized I didn't like not liking myself... And, for a brief moment, decided I would do it. That thought didn't stay with me for long.

In my trance like state I didn't hear Bill yell out. He grabbed my by the arm.

"Okay Karen, you're going to be the first one out. Let's go."

I tried to jerk away. "Are you crazy!" I screamed out in horror. "I'm not going first. I'm last, remember. Last one out, you promised."

He literally dragged me to the door. "You're going out of this goddamn door girl, even if I have to throw you out. You know what to do... now think about it. Get your mind right cause you're going out of this door."

I was petrified. My stomach was like one big knot. Suddenly my breakfast was spewing out of my mouth... the bacon was foul.