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It only took a few minutes for Dusty Belcher to get the Cessna 182 off the ground. We were the only flight traffic on the runway. Remidios quickly reviewed the exact same safety instructions that Sammantha had given me at our motel, but adding one more note.
“Bend your knees when you’re about to land so you stay flexible. There’s one more instruction that I’ve never given to any other students in fifteen years … It’s time to take off all your clothes.”
(Take off our clothes? We’ve been doing a lot of that on this vacation. We could be paid as professional strippers.)
I couldn’t believe how fast this process was going. It only took 20 minutes for the Cessna to reach 13,000 feet. Once we were naked, Remidios got busy clipping us together. Sammantha kneeled, looking away from me. There were two connections near our armpits and two near our butts.
Now I felt the large pack hanging on my back. “Whoa … What does this parachute rigging weigh?”
“Thirty pounds, kid. But once you jump it’ll weigh zero … You better start working on your boner, kid … and I ain’t helping you … but no pressure.”
(The pressure was horrible.)
“Sweety, do you think you can drift off mentally like you did when we were with the shark? I’m going to reach being me and slap your penis back and fourth.”
Yes, this is certainly romantic. Okay, I guess I need to zone out and imagine Penelope once again, grinding her genitalalia against the tip of my penis. The fantasy of Lolita teasing Humbert is a powerful tool of arousal … and thankfully, it worked again.
I sat down on my butt, and Sammantha wasted no time sitting on my erection. We had no lubrication so she had to press down on me with force. She used her impressive muscular form to rise and fall on my boner. It wasn’t long before she increased the speed of her repetitions.
I broke from my fantasy as it was no longer needed. Sammantha was making sure that I would reach the point of no return without me doing a thing. That feeling began building after about sixty seconds. I was trying to wait till the last possible moment because I was scared that I’d slip out of her after we jumped.
I had all kinds of fears but I had to do it. The moment came … the point of no return. I hit Sammantha’s head twice really hard and then grabbed her waist as she fell forward, bringing me along with her. It didn’t take long for the wind to be hitting my face at 120 miles per hour.
Stay in … Stay in … Let it happen … I squeezed her waist tightly … and felt tremendous relief pumping the big juice into her vagina eight times. I yelled my ‘No’s’ five times, although no one could hear me … and decided that wet ejaculations were more satisfying than dry ones. I had such a big smile for the camera phone in her outstretched left hand, and I bopped her on the head another two times to relay the message ‘success’.
Sammantha pumped her arms in triumph and gave me a thumbs up. In few seconds, she pointed to the right and gave me a ‘toss it’ signal. Now separated from my partner’s vagina, I pulled the hackey to the right and let go. The small pilot chute came out first to slow us down a little. It was followed several seconds later by the main canopy chute.
That was a beautiful sight, seeing the whole canopy chute deployed above my head. We slowed down and it felt more like floating now, than falling. We could see the entire island below us. It was a great view.
Below me, a minute later, Sammantha moved both her fists up and down. I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I looked around, and then below. Uh oh … We were starting to float off course, away from the designated landing area. Her fists meant for me to grab the toggles and try to steer us back.
It was supposed to be a calm day, but the wind somehow picked up enough to carry us east … and there was nothing I could do to steer us back. The way I was angled, when I pulled on the toggles, we would go slightly north or slightly south, but the wind kept pushing us east.
This was not good at all. Our nude bodies were going to come down quite east of the landing target. What if we hit a tree or the roof of a building. I felt like Neil Armstrong when he had only thirty seconds of fuel remaining to find a spot to land the lunar module on the moon.
We were now a good half mile off course. And we seemed to be drifting towards a clearing which was good … until the closer we got, we realized that the clearing was filled with a series of very long tables.
Unbeknownst to us, a large religious group, Women of the Lord, were holding their annual spiritual empowerment retreat breakfast, with a membership of some 300 ladies … all dressed very nicely for the occasion. (We were not.)
At an altitude of 100 feet, we already started hearing screams from some of the ladies. I wasn’t sure if it was because we were naked or because we were falling on them.
“Bend your knees!” Sammantha screamed at me.
My head was spinning … What are we going to do? What if we’re injured on the landing? What if all those ladies attack us? What if we survive the fall, only to be killed on the ground?
We weren’t falling straight down, but rather coming in at an angle. At 50 feet, there was no doubt we were going to hit one of the tables … but I gave the right toggle a little tug so that we’d be moving down the length of the table, like a runway, rather than hitting it crosswise. That would have worsened the disaster.
To Sammantha and me, it was a perfect landing. When we hit, we ran several steps farther, kicking away a good number of breakfast plates as the canopy parachute settled ahead of us … covering up five or six well dressed ladies. They weren’t very happy.
Three hundred screaming women can make a very loud noise and I could barely hear Sammantha’s terse orders.
“Let’s un-hitch and get the hell out of here!”
Her cell phone was still attached to her wrist by a strap while the video continued to run. She unbuckled both of us quickly. Almost in a panic, we leaped off the table (Batman and Robin style) and looked around for an avenue of escape. We were not alone. The ladies were chasing the nudists.
I tried to run my fastest, but one of the ladies in a nun’s habit and track shoes caught up and tackled me around the ankles. As I fell to the ground, she reached forward and grabbed my penis, pulling on it hard enough to attempt to detach it front my body. I struggled to escape her grip. (It reminded me of the scene in the movie ‘Porky’s’ where the boy put his penis through a hole into the girl’s shower room, and the female gym teacher grabbed it and pulled the boy’s member with all her might.)
Sammantha turned around and kicked the woman’s arm away from me. As a psychologist, mom had a few tricks up her sleeve I wasn’t aware of.
“RRRRRoooooaaaaarrrrr!!!!!” she howled the voice of a mountain lion, and bared her teeth and claws (fingernails).
The ladies backed away. Apparently it’s human instinct to regard crazy people as dangerous … and best to keep your distance.
I got up again and we ran like hell again. We found an alleyway leading to the street, and the direction to turn was obvious.
“Downhill toward the sea,” she told me.
We jogged through the residential neighborhood, offering big ‘hellos’ to some of the early rising natives. We were just a couple of streakers out for a morning run. Every one of them returned big smiles and shouts of ‘good morning!’.
In a few minutes we were back down to the main drag, Veterans Drive, near the seashore. Then we crossed the street eyeing a place to hide. What could be more lovely than kneeling naked behind the trash dumpsters at the local KFC?
Thank goodness Sammantha kept her cell phone strapped tightly to her wrist, and she immediately punched up the contact number for our instructor, Remidios Dedios.
“Hey, where are you guys?” came his quick response.
Sammantha replied, “Hiding behind the trash dumpsters at KFC, on the main road. We landed at the convent … you know, Women of the Lord.”
“Oh shit … Today’s their annual breakfast. There must have been fifty women there.”
“Try three hundred.”
“Oh shit … What did they do when they saw your boy’s penis?
“They tried to pull it off.”
“Oh shit … Are you guys okay? Did you get fucked okay?
“Oh yeah, the jump was fabulous. We just didn’t stick the landing. But we could sure use some clothes and a lift back to the airport.”
“Yeah, Dusty landed the plane and I’m in the van now … on the way. But listen to me. You’re going to need to change your plans.”
“Well the St. Thomas VIP is unpredictable.”
“The Virgin Islands Police. You heard how crazy they were with that ‘blob’ thing. Those ladies are no doubt calling them right now. And the chute will be immediately traced back to us.”
“What do you think we should do?” Sammantha asked warily.
“Leave the island of course … And now would be a good time. Believe me, those cops will be intimidated by the nuns. The Women of the Lord have a lot of political clout. The cops are going to charge you with everything from public indecency to vandalism to starting a riot. You should take the next flight out of St. Thomas … to anywhere. They like to advertise St. Thomas as a tropical paradise, but believe me, the St. Thomas jails are anything but a paradise.”
“Okay, Remidios, but we’ll need to grab our stuff at the motel.”
“Do it fast. Dusty and I will shut down our office and leave the airport till noon … and we won’t answer our phones. After that, the cops will shake us down and we’ll have to give up your names so we don’t lose our license. We’ll tell them we had no idea that you two wanted to be streakers until the last second. And we won’t even mention the sex.”
Sammantha checked her watch. “We really appreciate your help, Remidios. That gives us a five hour head start to get our butts out of Dodge.”
“Right. If you’re still here after that, the airport authorities will have your names and will arrest you. They may even try to tack you down at your next airport, so I suggest you get lost.”
I tapped Sammantha’s shoulder. “Mom, please no more bucket list items, okay?”
She nodded. “This time I’m on your side, sweety.”
Stories of Age/Time Transformation