"Mayday! Mayday! This is Flight Alpha One Niner. Calling for help. Repeat! This is Flight Alpha One Niner. We are about to crash!"
The pilot slammed his fist into the dash of the diving airplane in frustration. Nothing! The whole bucket of bolts was going down, and not even the hiss of static escaped from the radio. Nothing that could at least bring the solace that he had been heard. Instead, like the rest of the electronic systems, it was out. Shorted. Compounded with a burst engine on the single-prop Cessna, the craft's fate was sealed.
It was time for the canopies...
Below, the lush green land of the Bolivian Forests stretched out like a carpet, as if trying to lure the handicapped aircraft with its apparent softness and comfort. But the pilot, Jacob Jacobbe, veteran of a hundred landings in Vietnam, knew the truth - the trees that were underneath the 'green carpet' would tear the craft in half, rupturing it and crushing the occupants within. Jacob had stared death in the face many times. It was his passengers he was afraid of.
There were just three of them, really, a family from California's Berkeley, on a vacation-cum-research trip to the South Americas. Blake Gerry was a professor at the world famous institute, well worded with over twenty books on surviving civilizations of the forests. The last one, about the Aborigines of Australia, had brought him close to the coveted International Researcher's Woodchuck Award - one of the most uncorrupted awards in the world. At thirty-eight, he still had a scientist's lifetime to get the title.
His wife, Maggie, at half a year younger, was not an academician - that probably explained why the Mister and Missus got together so well. She was in fact the true exponent of the newly rich, choosing to spend her free time with charitable causes like tea parties, Rotarian beauty contests and the like. She was a good person at heart; it was just that she was too caught up in the bandwagon to find her own place.
Amanda, the daughter of the house, was a swell-looking brunette who had no problem getting attention from the male persuasion wherever she went. A youthful, if slightly plump, figure with all the right curves in the right places, and with a brain to match, Amanda was every college senior's dream... until he discovered that her principles and interests went deeper than normal. Then it was, as a best friend put it subtly, 'breaking up time.'
Jacob felt underneath his seat for the metal clasp that would release the parachutes into the laps of his terrified passengers. There were around twenty chutes in all, but only three that he was sure would work. Blake, Maggie and Amanda could have them - like a good captain, he would go down, if he had to, with the plane. Besides, he didn't want it to crash into the dry brushes at the fringes, or worse, into the nearby town, erupting the whole place into flames.
Abruptly, the door opened with a loud noise. "Any help, guy?" Although years of teaching had taught him to modulate his voice well, Blake knew his tension showed. The altimeter was fairly steady, but the flight speed was dropping - less than eighty knots in the next few seconds, and the plane would come crashing down.
"Get out," the pilot roared back. "I am opening the lock now - strap the women onto the jump cable before opening the hatch. Count to three, and jump. Go!"
Blake turned around, the voice enough of a command for him to obey without reservation. Even as he clipped his wife's parachute line onto the jump-cable, he threw over his shoulder, "What about you?" He took what he heard was a grunt as his answer.
Twenty seconds later, three snow-white parachutes billowed open in quick succession, the wind bloating them into enormous proportions in less than a hundredth of a second. Above them, pilot Jacob Jacobbe prayed for their safety, as he relaxed the controls in his hand. There was no way the craft was going to hit something inflammable - it would crash way before the border came into view. Before him, a bare hill rose to a height just a few meters below the belly of the craft.
Jacob nosed the plane lower.
Blake shielded his eyes as the terrific explosion lit up the entire evening sky. The fireball built up into one huge orange sun before dissipating into the atmosphere. There were no other parachutes in the vicinity, the three in the air being the only survivors. Jacob had not bailed out. Somehow, that fact did not surprise Blake; in the short time that he had come to know the late pilot, the researcher had been impressed by the strength of his convictions and the unwavering sense of responsibility. And now, more than ever, they stood emphasized.
As is the nature of any living creature when its survival is under threat, Blake's instincts took over. There was no time to grieve, no time to dedicate. The ground would kiss them in a few minute's time - and unless they were prepared for the Gaean embrace, they would be rendered extinct.
Extinct in a godforsaken land, inhabited by godforsaken tribals.
For as far as he could make out, there was no sign of civilization ever having set foot there. There was, however, a small clearing towards the east. The landing strip. Blake clapped to his wife and daughter, who responded with wild-eyed fear. When he was sure he had their attention, Blake folded his hands and pointed to the patch below. At first, neither woman seemed to understand.
It was Amanda who understood her father's signal. "You mean, land in that meadow over there?" She said, pointing to the same land that Blake had indicated. At the closer distance, Blake saw that it was, indeed, a meadow - a wide, grass-covered plot in which grazed some wild boar. His wife nodded weakly, and Blake longed for the moment he could hold his loved ones in his arms again. On dry ground. On solid ground.
The landing was nothing short of a bone-breaking jar that sent shudders all the way up his spine to give him a momentary headache. Blake shook it off, concentrating on ensuring his family's safety first. Impatiently, he snapped off the cables of the chutes, almost tearing them off in his hurry. From a few feet into the nearby foliage, he could hear his daughter's cries for help. In spite of the hurt in his legs from the landing, Blake, ever the father, ran after the sound.
To his relief, Blake found his wife and daughter safe... well, almost safe. Although her mother was on the ground, Amanda had managed to entangle herself in the branches of a tree ten meters off the ground. She hung suspended on her parachute cables, dangling wildly with fear. As soon as she saw her father, she screamed even louder. "Daddy! Help! I am going to fall."
There was no time to climb all the way up the tree - there was just one other alternative. "Jump!" Blake commanded, "I will catch you. Don't worry, honey, Daddy will catch you. Just trust me." Amanda blinked at him for some time. Jump? Easy for him to say - he wasn't staring at the earth at over twenty feet above it. She was. And hardly dressed for a leap of faith...
That fact did not escape Blake's attention. His daughter had on a skirt, yes, but from his vantage position, he could see all the way up the curve of those legs, tanned and lithe, into a darker silhouette that he realized with a gasp was his daughter's pussy. A thin line started from between her legs and receded into the back of her ass, so clearly marked against the tan lines of her buttocks. The skirt billowed all around her, going up as far as her thighs, and the jungle wind, Blake knew, was notorious. Sudden gusts would come out of nowhere.
A branch snapped.
There was no more time to deliberate any other alternative. Maggie found her voice. "Jump, Am, jump! Daddy will catch you!"
Amanda closed her eyes and felt around for the release clasp. Her hands tugged at the metal piece twice before it gave way, freeing her from the strangling fiber cables. Her skirt came up to her face, blown all the way up by the air current under her falling body. She couldn't see where she was heading - the cotton cloth obscured her vision. All she felt was an instantaneous rush of adrenaline as the winds brushed against her naked pussy.
Blake positioned himself right underneath his daughter, timing his hands in such a way that they caught her around the waist just as her feet touched the ground. Unfortunately for him, his positioning was not so accurate - as he looked up in shocked realization, it was too late to move away. His daughter's crotch slammed against his face.
Amanda felt the coarse, unshaved beard of her father on her pussy just a bare moment before she slid into his arms, her hips braking themselves in his grip. Due to their closeness, her skirt was still stuck between them, but neither realized the embarrassment until they parted after the hug. They were safe.
As he moved away, Blake could smell his daughter's scent on the tip of his nose - scent left there by the accidental contact of her feminity. Absently, as he watched his wife and daughter hug each other, he rubbed the back of his palm against his nose. The scent remained, though, and Blake was aware, now that immediate danger had passed, that the touch had excited him. His nose still throbbed a little, but that only reminded him of how soft her pussy had felt against his face. His cock twitched guiltily.
.... There is more of this story ...