A Close Encounter on the Plane

Based on a true story, though some details have been changed for narrative purposes.

*****

The unexpected can provide a refreshing fillip, as a recent adventure illustrates. A tedious flight was transformed into something quite different.

Jo and I were enduring the final leg of a long plane journey. As you'd expect, we were both very tired and were running on the adrenaline the body produces in order to cope with such taxing situations. Well, not just adrenaline. We'd been drinking heartily too and the combination had been successful, creating a type of altered mental state: slightly dazed, almost manically cheerful and passably alert, but not too far from exhaustion.

I doubt if I am unusual in finding that this state makes me especially prone to lust. Being on a plane always feels a bit otherworldly and dreamlike, as if one is in the inter-zone, on the edge of being outside time and space. Well, that's how it seemed: slightly unreal, a twilight zone of sorts, neither here nor there. I felt this general sense of detachment: as if normal conventions and inhibitions no longer applied.

No doubt the fact that planes and airports are full of strangers contributes to this. Nobody knows who you are and they are unlikely to see you again. It could also have something to do with the background noise and how stingy they are with the fresh air circulation on planes. Lower oxygen levels are known to affect mood, especially when alcohol has been consumed.

When we reached our row after boarding, a well-built man was already seated in the right-hand window seat. Jo shuffled in next to him and I took the aisle seat. Once we had finally taken off, I sat back, closed my eyes and tried to rest, but after a while I noticed animated conversation to my right. Jo and the stranger were getting to know each other and seemed to be getting along famously, playing with their smartphones and discussing the merits of the gadgets one gets on modern planes. I was a bit surprised by how enthusiastically Jo was bonding with the fellow with the posh English accent. He had a confident demeanour, not quite arrogant, but self-assured.

I put Jo's exuberance down partly to the nervous energy people often get when tired or stressed. She's also been known to be a bit impulsive at times. My tinge of possessive jealousy wasn't completely unwarranted though as Jo is accurately described as a cute and pretty minx, sexy as fuck, very clever, petite and eminently fanciable. Not to mention her charm and cheekiness.

She may have been older than the man in the window-seat, but I could see that he rated her: she has that effect on men. I think it's got something to do with the way she can initially seem to have a girlish innocence, which on closer inspection is found to be sexily misleading. You just know she's got a wild side, a suggestion of hidden mysteries.

It is of course very difficult to pinpoint the exact nature of lust and sexual attraction: the so-called chemistry. It's not just driven by physical appearance, the mind behind it is what really counts. It can be seen in the eye banter, the teasing challenge of a daring stare - the challenge of conquest.

There is also the idea of risk, the possible danger: is the other person a bit bad, likely to lead you astray into unknown pleasures? Well, it's all that and more and whatever it was, they seemed to share it. He did seem just a little nervous though as Jo and I were clearly travelling together, but he was definitely becoming bolder.

This airline's headphones came with three variations of do not disturb stickers: adhesive labels bearing messages. Wake me at meals, never, in the event of a crash: that sort of thing. Jo cheekily asked him, suggestively and somewhat breathlessly I thought: "I wonder where one is supposed to stick these?" He laughed and leaning into her, whispered something I didn't catch.

Whatever he said, it made Jo giggle coyly. And did I catch her submissively lowering her eyes from his assertive gaze? That and her eager to please, receptive body language triggered in me a surge of the notoriously invigorating bedfellows of jealousy and arousal as I imagined the strength and filthiness of the crude innuendo he had no doubt uttered into my good wife's willing earhole.

Jo knew just what I was like though: inclined to a variety of perversions, including a tendency to get very turned on by this very scenario. I doubt that I'm unusual in this. My jealousy was fairly mild, but sufficient. After all, jealousy and arousal operate at a largely non-rational level and I suspect that if there was no jealousy at all, my excitement would have been diminished. I certainly wasn't bored, unlike most of the rest of the plane journey, when time had passed like chilled, low-grade sludge.

Once the meals and the many empty wine bottles had been cleared away, we all rested, though Jo and he chatted on and off, off and on. They were quite loud at times, as was their frequent laughter. Jo was rather tipsy by now and he'd had a few. I left them to it. I didn't catch all the conversation, but it generally seemed mild enough, though I did sense an undercurrent of ambiguity in places, as well as suggestive tones of voice.

To be honest, it smacked of flirting. It transpired that he was a musician, which is always a popular profession with the ladies. I wonder if that has something to do with their proximity to dancing. They talked about his band and that they were touring, Jo being delighted to find that they would be playing near our town. She also quizzed and teased him about the debauched rock 'n roll antics he must get up to, even asking him straight-out whether he was married.

Again I didn't hear all the answers properly, what with the aircraft noise and their soft, conspiratorial speaking volume. Disappointingly, they then moved onto a duller topic, though this time I could hear them clearly. Since his exploits were such a potentially sordid subject, I was really hoping that she would pump him harder. I didn't exactly expect Led Zeppelin style tales of mud sharks or whatever, but surely he could have come up with something salacious and titillating? Even if I wasn't able to hear all of it.

Little was said for the next half hour, maybe because Jo was afraid of coming across as too much of a groupie, though I couldn't neglect the possibility that he had told her something particularly intriguing and Jo was delightedly mulling over the implications. That incessant, hard to pin down plane hum of rushing wind, jet engines and air-conditioning droned on and I was left to marinade in my sexual thoughts.

At one point, the plane encountered turbulence and the resulting jolting caused her right leg to press against his left. Well, that was a possible cause, anyway. As I buckled my seat-belt, I noticed that neither of them moved away, both content with the bumpy contact. There was definite eye contact though, and eye feedback to boot, but neither overtly made the next move. I lay back, immersed myself in the plane's white noise and enjoyed the sensation of my cock hardening, the droning sound of speed somehow enhancing my excitement.

Since they had gone quiet, I eventually dozed briefly, still wishing that she had probed him more deeply about his band. Surely that was a ripe and promising subject eminently suited to flirting? I didn't see her flirting as infidelity; hell, I flirted myself sometimes, it's almost like an instinct sometimes, a form of sport. Yeah, I got it, the thrill of the chase, the flattery of it, the sexual kick, the excitement. It's much more intense with a stranger and when flirting right under the nose of one's spouse, there is the added taboo element, which is always a pleasure.

Yeah, I did understand the flirting kick. I also understood that my excitement needed to be piqued by at least the idea of a risk of infidelity, for without that, there would be much less of a thrill. Yeah, Jo had to flirt with him like that in front of me, she had to play the game: for my sake. As it was getting late, the plane's lights were dimmed and I had plenty of time to run over these thoughts in my mind. The more I contemplated it, the more excited and titillated I became.

Quite some time later, I gradually awoke. It took me a while to adjust back from the edge of reality, but sure enough, there were suggestively soft sounds on my right. Feigning sleep, I cracked open my eyes a sliver and peeked in their direction. The cabin lights had long been dim now and most people were attempting to sleep. Jo also seemed to be asleep but as my eyes adjusted to the light, it dawned on me that he was doing something to her hair.

Jo's hair had somehow become pinned to the seat's headrest by one of the stickers and he was gallantly freeing her; or just maybe, attaching her more securely. It was hard to tell, though I had a definite preference for the second option. She presumably had put the sticker there herself, since it was on his side of her head, much less visible to an attendant: deliberately invisible, no doubt. I surmised that she must have hoped that the sight of her head being fastened and restrained in some mild simulation of bondage would drive him wild. It worked on me, for I could feel my cock hardening at the very idea.

Nor did I discount the possibility that he had initiated the pinning and that it was somehow related to their earlier whispering. I can't remember the exact wording, but the gist of the message on the label in her hair was: "Do Not Disturb". Judging by his behaviour though, the small print may as well have read: "Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law."

As he dealt with her hair, Jo maintained the appearance of sleep, but was letting slip little sighing noises and her mouth was sensuously open. She attempted to shift her head, but it was held fast and she emitted another sigh. He pressed her hair or maybe her ear firmly into the seat, causing her head to tilt slightly towards him. He hadn't been disentangling her after all: he was taking liberties instead.

He glanced over at me, but I concocted a snore which seemed to satisfy him. I certainly didn't want him to stop. Emboldened, he carefully lifted the blanket Jo had placed over her lap and then I noticed two more stickers, loosely stuck to the back of her hand, as yet unallocated. She had followed the airline's advice and her seat-belt was still tightly buckled, as if she was being restrained for his pleasure. My heart pounded. Something special was unfolding.

Hearing the sound of a passenger in the aisle, he let the blanket drop back again and waited, as did I. Just when it seemed that the coast was clear, another passenger passed, so we waited again. In fact, the events I am describing all took a lot longer than my description of them here, as did the build-up, but telling the story in real time could try your patience. Every time we feared a disturbance, our activity usually ceased, or at least slowed.

Anyway, we all stewed and savoured the ongoing situation, including the often long gaps when nothing much physical happened. It wasn't in the least bit dull though, as all of us had plenty happening in our minds and there was lots of time. Did I mention that I had an erection of various strengths for hours on end? I doubt if I was the only one. It became tense and a bit frustrating at times, but that only ratcheted up the anticipation.

I continued my intermittent mock snoring and when the plane had got quieter, he glanced at me and carried on his ministrations; though I had my suspicions that he was aware that I was watching, as I was gradually adjusting my position so that I had a better view. Either way, he wasn't stopping now, to my amazed delight he was moving to a new level.

Jo was wearing a loose skirt which he proceeded to ever so slowly raise, first up her lower leg, then over her knees, pausing frequently to check Jo's face for objections. There were none. He traced a finger softly along her exposed flesh, taking his time, for there was no need to hurry. At this point, yet another passenger walked down the aisle and he suspended operations, gently covering Jo's lap again with the blanket. During the interlude, I leaned further towards the action, daring and challenging him to carry on.

When the passenger finally passed again to return to her seat, he looked at me and I thought I detected a smile, but it was hard to tell in the murky conditions. I shifted closer and opened my eyes a little wider anyway, assuming that having gone this far he wouldn't want to stop. I was proven right for he soon raised the blanket again and this time I was greeted by the sight of Jo's naked thighs, as she had changed her position too, having lifted her knees higher by placing her feet on the footrest.

Since he'd already raised her skirt above her knees, her helpful adjustment had caused her skirt to drop down her thighs a little, further exposing her. We both looked at Jo and saw that her mouth was open and her breathing was unlike that of a sleeping woman. Her eyes were closed, but not gently, it was as if she was screwing them shut. Her face betrayed her pleasure and it was now fairly clear that all of us were wide awake. I decided to end the pretence of sleep so that I could get a clearer view, willing him to proceed. I shifted even closer and in doing so better shielded them from any potential onlookers.

He looked at me and hesitated. Would he dare to blatantly toy with my wife right in front of me? You bet he did, and since he no longer needed to hide his actions from me, he promptly lifted Jo's skirt above her waist so that her brief, lacy panties were fully in view. She'd chosen wisely, wearing a pair I'd encouraged her to buy just the other day. I was sorely tempted to reach up and turn the reading light on then, but restrained myself.

To allow us more privacy and to free his hands, I took hold of the blanket, establishing myself as a participant. The only significant risk was if someone in the row behind us chose to stand up and peer over, but I'd been checking for that and it seemed safe, so far. Of course, the risk of danger enhanced the excitement, but actually being caught probably wasn't a good idea.

He caressed his fingers up her inner thigh, higher and higher till he reached the little tufts of hair that protruded slightly from her sexy, new black knickers. Jo's breathing hastened and her thighs trembled in response. She then closed her legs, blocking his access. He hesitated, but persisted, prising her legs apart, but she again rebuffed him.

This time he paused for a long time, uncertain, so I firmly gripped her left knee and pulled it towards me. He took the hint and did the same with her right. Jo struggled against us, but we were stronger, insistent. Her breathing was heavy now, but she made no comment, only little gasps. She had tested us with her token gesture of resistance, but had been overcome and was now starting to submit.

Resolve suitably stiffened, he moved in, straight to her slit, repeatedly pressing her panties into it. It seemed like he was variously stuffing the gusset right inside her and pinioning her clit down with the bunched up material. Jo, cunt lips partly exposed, murmured and wriggled, again closing her legs, but he pinched her clitoris and her resistance evaporated. When he returned to her pussy, he found that she was now pushing herself onto his hand. She was being won over.

I leant in closer, and could now smell her sex. It was heaven. My heart was racing now and my erection throbbed and pulsed; all thoughts of jealousy gone. I willed him to do his worst, or best as the case may be.

Now, I'd seen her cunt before, and it is a wonderful sight at any time, but watching it being probed and prodded by a stranger who knew I was watching, added to the semi-public location: well, that was above spectacular. It may sound hyperbolic, but at the time I felt as if I hadn't really fully lived till this moment. When I recall the incident, I feel the same way. Life is short.

Jo's panties and remaining modesty had to go, so leaning over and placing a thumb under the waistband at each side, he tugged. Jo seemed to assist him by raising her cute bottom a touch, but I couldn't be totally sure. Her knickers stretched, due to the gusset remaining partly embedded in her, but after the next tug the gusset was freed and her panties dangled askew around her ankles, and then lay forlorn and discarded amongst the debris on the floor.

Personally, I prefer the sight of her knickers around her thighs, knees or ankles: it being so suggestive of violation in progress, but I accepted that removing them completely was more practical in this instance. He placed them in Jo's sticker-laden hand where she gripped them firmly. Her palms may have been clammy before, but her tightly squeezed knickers made them quite damp and very fragrant. I checked for tell-tale trickles of cunt juice, but the light was poor.

He moved in on her again, attempting to part her flaps and expose her pinkness, but she still defied him, moving her right leg inwards to impede his access. She'd pushed her luck too far this time, and I had to see more, so I pressed into her midriff and unclasped her seat-belt. She tensed, uncertain of the implication. After extending the right-hand male, tongue side of the belt to its maximum, I placed her right hand on her right thigh, passed the belt over her wrist, then under her thigh, towards him. He got the picture and pulled its clasp towards him.

The effect was twofold, clamping her wrist to her thigh and drawing her thigh towards him. He pulled again and the belt dug into her flesh. One more tug and her thigh was firmly pressed against his: it was going nowhere. He bedded the clasp under his thigh to seal her fate. Jo trembled, wriggled and squirmed from the mild discomfort and the sexually titillating humiliation of being so blatantly used and available, in a plane seat of all places.

Unfortunately, her left thigh was now relatively free. The female, buckle side of the belt was too short, so I dangled the cold buckle on her hot lips. I then unclicked my belt. Jo must have clearly heard this as she froze on realising the significance. I extended my belt, removed the buckle resting on her pussy and pressed the cold, hard metal tongue of my seat belt slightly into her cunt, crudely imprisoning her lips, then trapping and compressing her clit against her pubic bone.

Jo drew a sharp intake of breath. I teased her further, pressing the edge slowly in between her lips. She dared not move, as the consequences could have been painful. I pushed gradually further inwards, tormenting her. She let out a scared whimper and I paused, then suddenly withdrawing, I repeated on her left leg what had been done with her right, wrapping it in the belt, her arm attached helplessly. I pulled the belt firmly towards me with a satisfying tug and marvelled at the sight of her imprisoned pale flesh and the way her cunt opened a little further each time.

So keenly delicious was it that I couldn't resist pulling the belt even tighter, as tight as I dared, testing my cruelty. When I stowed the tongue under my thigh, she was now fully spreadeagled, arms bound to obscenely compressed thighs, cunt gaping and fully vulnerable. Our hands now unencumbered, we had total control. As a sign of finality, I took her hard button between my fingertips and ever so slowly, squeezed it harder and harder, until my fingernails started to bite. She breathed in, moaning: her defiance had vanished. She was at our mercy.

To encourage her to simmer and anticipate, and to remind myself not to get too carried away, I removed my sticky fingers and replaced the blanket over her lap. To an outside observer, it would have seemed innocent at first glance, though her unnatural posture would have hinted at something more sinister. Jo stayed still, confused as he and I gazed at her with wicked smiles on our faces. She was a picture.