The storm clouds were billowing in the sky outside my window. The small plane tossed turbulently in the dark air. I held onto the armrests of the tiny, uncomfortable seat, my knuckles turning white with my grip. "Shit," I muttered under my breath, cursing the weather and my bad luck. I hated flying and this weather and turbulence only increased my terror. My breathing came in short, ragged spurts. My teeth clenched in fear, my eyes wide.

    The plane, a tiny little death trap, dropped dramatically, pitching to the left. The lone stewardess was strapped into a small seat, facing the center of the plane. I stared out of the window, looking at the breaking waves thousands of feet below. The stewardess tried to reassure the three passengers. I heard her mumble that she had been in worse storms than this, and how good the pilot was. I ignored her pleating. I was uncertain if she was talking to the passengers or just trying to comfort herself.

    The two remaining passengers, a beautiful, dark-haired woman of about thirty-five looked secure. She had an air of confidence about her, strong and unfazed by the dancing plane. The last passenger was asleep.

    I stared at the sleeping man, and my grip tightened on the armrest. I had absolutely no idea how he could be asleep with the machine of death pitching like a bucking bronco. As the plane attempted to right itself, the man stirred but did not rouse.

    Amazing.

    The plane tipped left again and then I shouted. A squeal of terror escaped my lips as the plane toppled and began to plummet downward. Frantic shouting could be heard from the cockpit, loud shouts of "mayday" reached my ears and I knew I was dead. Not a rational thought, perhaps, but in my situation I did not care. A bright flash caught my eye and I turned my head to stare out the window at the demon sky.

    The clouds were black, ominous, foreboding. I squeaked, an unintelligible, unwanted sound that I could not control. My panic was climbing faster than the plane dropped. The sleeping man roused and looked out the window at the bleak sky. He glanced up at the terror written on the face of the stewardess, a look that matched my own.

    "Ladies and gentlemen," the overhead announcing system squawked, static hissing in the small space. "This storm is ...ad an ..hat I am attempti..do is to try an ..and on any o..and down there. Please buckle tight" The sounds trailed off. The announcement was slightly garbled, but the gist was clear. The pilot was as scared as the rest of us. He would try and land, anywhere.

    The passenger to my left, the lovely woman with the air of confidence pulled her seatbelt tighter. If she was afraid, she did not show it as readily as I did. My face was bunched up in a rictus of fear, my eyes wide, my mouth tight. "Please," I whimpered, uncertain where the small child that was speaking came from. Again, "please."

    The plane dropped and spun heavily to the left. The stewardess screamed, her voice tight. My grip tightened on the armrest as the plane fell from the sky. The man behind me vomited onto his lap as the plane dropped. He tried to scream as well, but his voice was weak, an only a rasping issued forth.

    Next to me the strong woman had her hands gripping the armrests. Her arms were taut as she held the chair firmly. She did not speak; she just looked out the window. I was surprised to see her looking up, wondering what was above her. Then it hit me. She was looking up, at the approaching ground. The plane continued to fall, spinning heavily as the sky swallowed up the dead air behind us. One loud squawk emerged from the announcing system before being swallowed up by the shouts of terror that was emitted by my throat. "Help," I wailed and shut my eyes tight.

    Again, "please," a soft whimper of a lost child.

    A loud thunderclap shook the spinning plane. The lights in the plane snapped off as the plane lost power. The plane pitched and once again righted itself briefly. I glance at the passengers again and was not surprised that I could not see anything. The interior of the plane was as dark as a tomb, black and cold. I could not see anything. My stomach flopped heavily as the plane spun, pitched forward and then flipped over, the nose pointing towards the rising earth. Once again I pinched my eyes shut.

    I heard the sound of screeching metal as the pilot tried to right the plane. The plane tossed and flipped. Lucky for me, I lost consciousness just before the plane hit the ground.

    I awoke unsure how long I had been out. Cold rainwater washed over my bearded face, running in short rivulets into my eyes. I stared at the dark sky, at the flashing lightning, and reasoned that it could not have been long, the storm was still brewing. I was lying on my back, twenty feet from the wreckage of the plane. I sat up to survey my surroundings, swaying as my head erupted in anguish. The plane was a mangled piece of metal. The left wing was twisted behind, pushed under the main fuselage. The right wing was absent, and a quick scan did not reveal where it could have landed.

    There was a gaping whole where the left side of the plane had been. I realized that this is where I had been tossed from. Looking at the plane, at the wreckage that was nearly indescribable, I realized how lucky I had been. Alive, I giggled nervously, alive.

    There was no power to the plane; the normal bleating of the guidance lights was not present. I wondered briefly where the pilot, stewardess and passengers were. I tried to sit up and swayed dizzily. My hand went to my head and I pulled back to stare at my hand, dripping with blood. I pulled my wet shirt off my back and balled it up. I held the shirt to my forehead and rested my elbow on thigh. I held the shirt firmly against my head, trying to stop the flow of blood.

    I shifted my body to a more comfortable position, but my head still pounded. I lowered myself to lie against the wet sand and continued to hold my shirt to my face. I shut my eyes and continued to lie there, thankful to be alive.

    In time, I slept.

    I awoke with the heat of the day bearing down on my body. My shirt was lying uselessly next to me. I brought my hand up to my face and grimaced as my fingers came in contact with the cut on my face. It had stopped bleeding, luckily, and only a dull throb remained. I worked my way to my feet. It dawned on me that maybe, just maybe; there were other survivors.

    Once again I stared at the wreckage and was surprised that I had lived. I put aside any hope that there were other survivors, still it warranted a look. There was always hope, or at least as long as there were children and Santa Clause, and God and Country, there was hope. Without hope, only despair remained, so there had to be hope.

    Walking dizzily I approached the fuselage. The whole in the side of the plane spanned a length of twenty feet. Sharp edges of metal pierced the air, pointing into the plane. I stood next to the plane and stared at the long trail that ran along the beach before disappearing into the ocean. It appeared that the pilot had spotted the island and tried to land. He had misjudged the beach, or the tossing plane had plummeted earlier than anticipated, but it seemed that he had first landed in the water. He must have bounce against the hard, breaking waves before striking the hard sand of the silver beach.

    With caution I climbed into the dead plane. The sun illuminated the corpse of the rear passenger. He was still strapped into his seat and I could see dried vomit decorating his shirt, a reminder of the turbulence of the night before. The left-hand side of the plane was missing all of its seats and their whereabouts was unknown.

    The right hand side seats were there but the woman that had been sitting there was nowhere to be found. The overhead bins that held the luggage were open on the right side, and I could see a few pieces of luggage resting inside. The left-hand side of the plane was missing the luggage bins much like the seats were gone.

    Walking forward I spotted the stewardess. Her head was mangled and dried blood stained the wall where her head had smashed into the steel frame behind her. She was still strapped into her chair and the streaming sunlight danced across her face, illuminating the mask of terror she had worn the night before. Her dress was torn across her chest and I spotted a large wound on her calf. Dried blood stained her ripped white stockings.

    I struggled to hold back my gorge as vomit threatened to issue into the dim room. I could smell the death in the air, a tortured scent of urine, feces, and decay. The scent was almost overwhelming. I inched forward and opened the small door that lead into the cockpit. The pilot was strapped into his chair a huge piece of glass wedged into his chest. I turned around and pushed my hand to my face. I struggled towards the back of the plane, towards the exit that the hole  in the side of the plane had become. I needed air, I needed life, and I needed the faint sense of the hope that I had been searching for. I ran from despair.

    I exited the plane and heard a soft moan. "Hello," I shouted, my head throbbing for my effort.

    Only silence greeted me. Again I shouted, "hello."

    Another soft pleating sound reached my ears. I strained to hear over the crashing waves that assaulted the beach. I searched frantically, hope showing its beautiful face. I spun around when once again I heard a soft whimper of pain. The woman that had been sitting across from me was buried in small shrub, mostly hidden from view. I ran, my head throbbing, and pushed the fronds of the bush away. She was groggy, her face bruised. I pulled her from the brush and sat down next to her. I rested her head on my thigh and softly brushed her hair out of her shut eyes.

    She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, because she was hope, desolation escaping my lips in raspy gasps. Glancing up towards the still sky, I whispered a polite "Thank You," to the Heaven's above. I sat on the beach, lightly caressing this lovely woman's forehead, and cried.

    Tears fell from my face as I hitched happily. I was happy to be alive, happy not to be alone, happy that hope had not disappeared from the world.

    Time passed. The woman opened her eyes and stared at my tear-streaked face. "What."

    I whispered. "Are you okay?"

    She struggled to sit up and I offered my arm in assistance. She looked confused, dazed and dizzy. She brought her hand up to hold her head. She moaned heavily, an aching, throaty sound. She scColletted the beach and looked at the broken plane, "I lived through that?" Her voice sounded confused, surprise giving way to delight. "I"

    She fell backwards and I caught her in my arms. I lowered her gently back to my lap. She glanced up and noticed me for the first time. "Who?" Her voice sounded raspy, dry.

    "Hi," politeness giving way even in these odd circumstances. "My name is Dennis. I was sitting across from you when" my voice trailed off.

    "Collette," she whispered, shutting her eyes wearily.

    I forced a smile.

    We sat in stunned silence; each lost in the thoughts of the night before. Still, hope was alive, and my face reflected that fact.

    "Collette," I whispered, "everyone else is, they're all" my voice cracked.

    "I know, or at least, I figured."

    We spoke about the crash, what we remembered, which was not much. I mentioned how I felt that we needed to bury the dead, and Collette agreed. I asked her if she would help me gather up the luggage. I offered to go into the plane again and toss out the bags. I did not want Collette to see what I had seen. Hell, I didn't want anyone to ever have to see what I had seen.

    Once again I climbed into the wrecked corpse of the plane. The stench that assailed my nostrils was stronger now, the heat of the day baking the plane's interior. I quickly tossed out all the luggage to Collette who gathered the bags and pulled them away from the plane.

    The plane felt dead, a cemetery where life would never return. I threw out all of the bags. I found some food in a small refrigerator that was still good. The power had been off for less than a day, and the food was still cold. Carrying my cache I returned to Collette's side.

    We ate the food, our stomachs accepting the gift happily. We left some fruit untouched for later, as we had to find another source of food assuming we would be here for a while.

    I made another trip into the plane and found some flares, a first aid kit, which we used to treat our surprisingly mild wounds. I discovered a small shovel, six life jackets, and some flashlights and matches. Our basic needs would be met it seemed with the emergency kits that the airline fortunately kept for just such emergencies.

    The shovel was a godsend as I used it to dig three shallow graves. I asked Collette if she would like to find us some water and she knew why I asked. She agreed and while she ran off to fill the ice buckets from the plane I dragged the rotting corpses to their new home. It wasn't much, but I felt better knowing the dead were taken care of.

    Collette returned a lovely smile on her face. She explained that there was a fresh water waterfall about two hundred yards away. Water, it seemed, was no longer a concern. The heat of the tropics boiled down on us, and heat could be seen rising off the white sand of the beach. Continuing her discussion Collette held up a small bunch of bananas. Food was not much of a concern now, though it seemed the menu would be limited.

    Still, hope was winning.

    We set up camp midway between the wreckage and the waterfall under a small canopy of trees. We had pulled all the luggage to our makeshift camp and with a tiny fire burning we took stock of the contents of the bags. There were very few things that were useful, though we did find a bottle of scotch in one of the bags. We added it to the tiny bottles of booze that the airline had placed on the plane.

    Collette opened up a large, brown suitcase. "What have we here," she giggled. I glanced up and saw Collette digging through the case. She pulled out a small chain with clamps affixed to each end, nipple clamps. Inside the bag were various dildos, gags, cuffs, rope, chain and other sex toys. She was giggling in delight, giddy with her discovery. She turned over the name tag and smiled again, "these are yours." I realized it was not a question.

    I blushed, thankful that the dark night and dancing fire hid the tint on my cheeks. There was no reason to deny the obvious, "yes." My voice was weak, choking in embarrassment. I hung my face and stared at my feet. My cheeks were burning and my voice cracked as I spoke, "please, close that."

    Collette smiled and set the case aside. We continued to search the suitcases. We found our clothes as well as the clothes of the remaining passenger, a couple of books that we had not read, and a spare magazine or two. Other than the scotch we found very little to assist us in our new, and hopefully only temporary, home.

    I watched with a nervous blush as Collette reached for my suitcase again. She dug through the toys and would not stop her queries until I answered. I explained the uses of the devices from the cuffs for bondage to the dildo and harness. Each toy I owned prompted questions from Collette and I choked on the answers as I explained their uses.

    Finally Collette asked the question I was dreading, "why do you have them all with you?"

    I hesitated. I did not want to alienate my only companion, but still my cheeks burned. I choked on my answer, "I was on vacation, flying home actually, and I used them while I was on the island. They can be fun."

    "Don't they require more than one person to be effective?" she asked holding up the dildo and leather harness.

    I nodded, explaining that I hoped to find someone to play with while on vacation. Sadly, I admitted, I had not.

    Collette smiled, "you have explained wonderfully."

    I watched in disbelief as Collette beckoned me to her side, crooking a finger in a come hither motion. I inched to her side and Collette handed me the face harness. "Show me how this works," she said, her voice firm.

    I nodded and reached into my tattletale case and pulled out a seven-inch dildo. I pushed the artificial penis into its protective sheathe. I opened my mouth and shoved the three-inch penis gag into my mouth, and strapped the leather harness to my face. The dildo stood proud in the firelight, thrusting up from my mouth. The gag filled my mouth, making it impossible for me to speak.

    Collette smiled at the device. "Wonderful," she breathed. I watched as she stood up and doffed her white halter top. Her breasts sprung free and I swallowed around my gag. Her breasts were perfect spheres and I longed to hold them, to fondle and caress them. Collette unbuttoned her white shorts and pealed them down her shapely legs. She set her shorts aside and then snuck her fingers into the waistband of her cotton panties. She pulled the delicate garment off her legs and stood naked in the firelight.

    I stared at her beautiful, naked body. "You know," she said to me as she straddled my face, "you did a good job of describing the toys, but I knew what they all were. We may be stranded, but I know I will have fun."

    I realized with that sentence that she was dominant, that she did know what the toys were. Her reactions on the plane, her strength and calm were another indication that she was indeed a strong-willed woman. It took a plane crash to introduce me to what I had been seeking on my two-week vacation.

    I watched with appreciative eyes as Collette lowered her pussy onto the extended end of the dildo. She sank lower until the dildo was buried and her sex rested against the hard leather of the harness. She slowly pulled her sex off the dildo before squatting again to fully impale her wet sex. She pumped the dildo into her pussy for a few minutes before stopping.

    "You know," she smiled down at me, "why am I doing all the work?"

    I watched as she lowered herself onto her back, the flames of the fire sending erotic shadows dancing along the beach. Collette spread her legs and began to caress her beautiful breasts. "Now, fuck me with the dildo," Collette commanded, her voice confident.

    I crawled towards Collette's prostrate body and knelt between her widely parted thighs. Bending forward, my forearms supporting my weight, I slowly inserted the dildo into Collette's cunt. I pressed forward and buried the dildo fully inside Collette. With the dildo fully inserted I began pulling my face away from Collette's pussy. The scent of arousal caused my cock to throb inside my jeans. I pushed my face forward slowly spinning my head in lazy circles. I used my head to press the dildo completely into this lovely woman.

    I began speeding up, pulling my head back and thrusting it forward in slowly increasing speeds. Collette continued to massage her breasts and tweak the hardened nubs of her nipples as I fucked her with the artificial cock. Collette was moaning loudly as I continued to pound the dildo into her dripping sex. Each thrust drove the gag against the back of my throat, and at times I had to struggle to breathe.

    Collette was breathing heavily and her moans of delight grew in intensity as I continued to corkscrew the rubber penis into her pussy. Spinning my head as I pushed and pulled the dildo I pleasured this woman. Her moans escalated and one of her hands snaked down her body to caress her clit.

    Collette's hand made frantic little circles over her engorged clit as I continued to fuck her. Her scent was overwhelming and I longed to taste what I could only smell. Collette clamped her thighs around my head when I finished a strong inward thrust. She held my head trapped in between her thighs as she bucked in orgasm. Her moans became shouts of pleasure as her hand dug at the soft sand.

    Collette released my head and pushed me away. Her breathing was ragged and I pulled myself into a sitting position, the gag still shoved in my mouth, the dildo still standing proud. Collette leaned up on her elbows and smiled at me. "That was great," she spoke into the warm, tropical air. "You can take that off," she told me. "Make sure you clean that dildo. You should use your mouth."

    Reaching up to remove the harness I stared at this woman. She was beautiful, her dark eyes dancing in the firelight. I had found what I had been looking for.

    I realized that hope was indeed present, sometimes it just took its time showing up.