Air Travel Torment

"Holly spasmed a few more seconds, and then collapsed down onto the pilot's shoulder.

CHAPTER FIVE

Vern was already wiping his cock off and putting it back in his pants, his sunglasses having never left is face. He sat down in the co-pilot's seat, put his headphones on, and began calmly checking instruments.

The pilot was coaxing the still-panting Holly to stand up. He also stood up, and helped the shaking wife off of him. Holly unsteadily worked her way around the seat and past the center console, her tits still out and her skirt still up to her waist. The pilot removed his used rubber, and tossed it into a waste can behind him. He put his wet cock back into his pants, put his headphones on, and took over the controls, like nothing at all had happened.

"Vern," said the pilot, "Tell the air marshal I want to see him."

"Yes, Captain," Vern acknowledged, and stood up. "Time for you two to leave," he said to us. Holly glanced at me for the first time since she started "being friendly" with the flight crew, but it was a quick, guilty-looking glance. Holly pulled her skirt down and smoothed it out. The co-pilot was already opening the door, while Holly was rushing to get her tits stuffed back into her bra cups.

I was just stepping out the door in front of Holly, when somebody pushed me aside and rushed into the cockpit. Suddenly it was pandemonium all around me - in the cockpit, in the front area, in the aisles. A large dark-haired man was holding what appeared to be some makeshift handgun to Jack the Sky Marshal's head. The man that ran into the cockpit had a similar plastic-looking handgun. Another man had Sky Marshal Scotty pushed up against the bathroom door, holding a makeshift knife of some sort to his neck.

The few women passengers were screaming, and some men were shouting, but most were silent. By the time things got orderly, I counted four Arabic-looking men on the plane. One in the cockpit with a gun on the pilot; one in the very back of the plane with a handgun, one with a handgun on the sky marshals and the three flight attendants; and one with a knife now pointed at Holly.

"Quiet! Quiet! Hands on your head! Hands on head!" yelled the man in the back. Before many of us even had a chance to take it all in, Scotty was cuffed with his own handcuffs, and Jack had been whacked in the head with something and had his hands and feet bound with tape. The two male flight attendants and Vern the co-pilot were on the floor at the front of the plane, also getting their hands and feet taped.

The terrorist with the knife on Holly was a tall, muscular-looking man of about forty, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a very intimidating expression. I recognized him as one of the Arabic men that had been behind Holly and me in the line at the security checkpoint. He ordered the bitchy flight attendant to get the P.A. working and give him the phone to speak into.

"Let's not have heroes, right?" He said in a heavy accent. "Nobody wants to get this woman hurt, or the pilot, or anybody else. Keep your hands on your head for a moment. We have no problem killing anybody that does anything wrong!

"Yes, this plane is hijacked. But before you get too frightened, let me say that our objective is not to crash the plane. Our mission is to force the American government to release our prisoners at Guantanamo. To do this, we will simply land the plane at your destination exactly as scheduled. Then we will set the plane on the tarmac, and hold you all hostages until our prisoners are brought to us. So your death is not imminent.

"Presuming none of you had time to use your cell phones and alert the authorities, nobody knows we have taken the plane. By staying on course, no jets will be scrambled, and we will not be bothered." He looked at his watch. "So for the next forty-seven minutes, we have nothing to do but wait."

He looked down at Holly. His left arm was around her neck from behind, the knife held loosely near her chest below her neck. At least he didn't seemed to be too tightly wound. Holly still hadn't finished putting herself back together after the going-over the pilots gave her. Her blouse was still open with the missing button, and her left breast was only halfway back into her bra cup. Her dark areola peeked out of the top of her bra.

"By the way," he continued. "I would like to thank this beautiful woman. We were confident that our disassembled weapons would not be detected in our carryon luggage. But to be safe, we had kept the security guards under surveillance for quite some time, and were aware that two of them liked to give special attention to shapely women. So we managed to get in line behind this chesty woman, and she kept the guards distracted while we got through the ex-rays.

"Then she helped us identify the sky marshals. And she helped us get into the cockpit. And finally," he chuckled, "she gave us all something to look at didn't she?" The other terrorist at the front of the plane chuckled along with him.

"So now we wait," he finished, and dropped the phone down. He looked down at Holly again as he held his knife around her neck. He stared at her chest. "Hmm," he moaned. Then he reached down and put his hand onto her half-exposed left breast, and touched her nipple.

"Ohh!" squeaked Holly. But when the knife moved up closer to her neck, she held still. Holly simply whimpered, and shook noticeably. When the terrorist put his hand inside her bra cup and groped her tit, she simply scrunched up her face, and arched her shoulders in.

"Hahaha!" laughed the terrorist leader as he roughly and rapidly squeezed and shook my wife's tit in her blouse and bra. Holly writhed in reaction to his gropes. Her shoulders gyrated, her chest heaved in and out, and her eyes alternated from half-closed to wide open, staring out at the passengers. Her mouth was open as if she was gasping, but no sound was emitted.

I had been pushed back into one of the front seats, my hands still cuffed behind me, and I had a point-blank view of my wife's body as she was groped in front of all the passengers. Her tit was still in her bra. The top of it was jiggling out as it got squeezed, but her nipple was not visible. I found myself half-hoping that he'd expose it. I didn't know why.

The terrorist moved his face closer to Holly's. He said something to her, and she turned her head towards him. "Kiss me," is what I think he said. "Tongue. Stick your tongue out." So show her, the terrorist stuck his tongue way out, less than a foot from her face. He pulled the knife closer, and said, "Stick tongue out," again.

Holly reluctantly stuck her tongue out between her closed lips, and pointed it at the terrorist's tongue. The terrorist leaned in, and the tip of his tongue touched the tip of Holly's. She recoiled once, but he held her tighter, and ordered her to stick her tongue out again. This time, when the terrorist touched Holly's tongue with his, she stayed still. The terrorist circled his tongue around Holly's, and the two tongues jousted and licked each other. Occasionally the terrorist moved in and pressed his lips against Holly's, but the tongues stayed out as much as they were in. For some reason I found this as much as a violation of my wife as the co-pilot sticking his cock in her mouth, and Holly looked way more repulsed by the tongue than she had the earlier cock.

The terrorist slid his hand out of Holly's bra, and moved it down her front. He stuck his hand under the front of her skirt, and lifted it. He pulled it up to her waist to expose her panties. He crudely grabbed her pussy mound, and rubbed up and down over her tight panties. Then he slid his hand in the side of her panty crotch, and rubbed her pussy. Holly gyrated her hips, attempting to evade the invading hand. At least that was what I thought she was doing at first. But then it looked like she was reacting to the touches. She thrust her hips in and out irregularly as he groped her crotch, and squirmed left to right. "Ohh! Ooohooohoo!" she whimpered. The terrorist alternately looked down at her pussy, and then went back to French kissing her.

CHAPTER SIX

The terrorist leader was distracted by the other front terrorist relaying a message from the hijacker in the cockpit. He released Holly from his grip, and she fluttered her eyes and leaned back against the bathroom wall behind her. Her skirt fell back down over her panties, and her tit was back in her bra cup, but her bra was still exposed in the front.

"Perfect, perfect! Too easy!" Said the lead terrorist to the other gun-toting hijacker.

The lead terrorist looked up at the overhead video monitors. It was the first time I noticed that a movie was showing. It must have started when we were in the cockpit. The film was some recent contemporary musical. Which one I didn't know, as I don't like musicals. "Yes, music! You think Muslims don't like music? I like music! And I like sexy women!" He said, smirking at Holly. "Idiot Westerners! You educate your women and send them out to work. A woman like this should only look pretty and dance for you men and try to gratify you."

He turned to the bitchy flight attendant. "Turn up the sound. Get the sound on over the speakers!" He demanded. The flight attendant picked up the phone that was used as the P.A. microphone, placed it next to some headphones, and the tinny and slightly distorted sound blared out of the overhead speakers. Apparently it was good enough for the lead terrorist.

"You!" he said, pointing to Holly. "Dance. Dance while you take off your clothes."

Holly stood motionless, staring wide-eyed at the terrorist.

The terrorist pointed his knife at her, and then looked at me. "He's your husband, yes? Dance, or I'll kill your husband."

Fortunately for me, that got Holly moving. She tentatively started to move her hips from side to side. The terrorist smiled and nodded his approval. Holly ran her hands through her hair, and then shook her hair, as if she wanted to look her best. She didn't know what to do with her hands, and sort of ran them down her side in what was actually a pretty sultry move, whether she meant it to be or not.

"Take off your blouse!" Ordered the terrorist, pointing his knife to her garment.

Holly gave him a wide-eyed look, and then reached up and started to unbutton the remaining buttons of her blouse, pulling the shirttails out of her skirt, and unbuttoning from the bottom up. While still swaying her hips and shoulders side to side, she opened the blouse as wide as it would go, holding it open for a moment, and then slowly slid it off of her shoulders. She danced with the garment behind her back for a moment while working the sleeves off her arms, and then subtly dropped it behind her. Her large smooth pink bra was completely exposed to nearly everybody in the plane as she continued dancing.

The lead terrorist smiled and nodded his approval. So did the second terrorist on the other side of Holly, and the lead terrorist and the one in the rear of the plane shared some approving laugh in Arabic. If he wanted a sexy strip dance, he was getting one. Holly's face looked scared to death, but whether she meant to or not, she was doing a real sultry dance. I knew that Holly was a decent dancer. But I've never really just sat back and watched her moves. They were sexy. And I'd never seen her do a strip tease like this. Instead of praying for her torment and my humiliation to stop, I had to admit to myself that I was dying to watch my wife's humiliating strip continue.

The terrorist and I were thinking along the same lines. "Skirt!" he said, pointing his knife downward.

Holly reached back to unhook her skirt. When the terrorist motioned for her to turn around, she turned her back to the rest of the passengers and me. I watched her trembling hands fumble with the top clasp of her skirt. When that was done, she slowly unzipped the back zipper, while her butt slowly swayed from side to side. Her panties slowly came into view. Holly shook her ass while hooking her thumbs into the sides of her waistband, and started to tug the skirt down her hips. When she pulled it past her rump, she arched her back and stuck her butt out at her audience, and lowered the skirt to her knees. From there the garment fell to her feet, and she deftly stepped out of it without missing a beat with her dancing.

Her tight panties had ridden up a little, and were showing some white ass flesh. The terrorist only moaned, while Holly swayed her ass around like a hula dancer.

He told Holly to turn around, and when she did I could see her panties pulled tightly over her pubic mound. Her panty waistband was low cut, and dipped just a little in front. She continued her sexy swaying, thrusting her pussy forward.

"Bra now!" Ordered the terrorist. After a moment of pause, my wife arched her back, reached behind, and unclasped her bra. She held the garment up with one hand, while lowering her left bra strap, and then her right. Finally when the terrorist raised his knife and nodded again, Holly pulled her hand away from her chest, with the bra still in her hand, and dropped it on the floor at her side.

Immediately her tits began to slowly sway. Her nipples were hard and sticking straight out at her audience. They looked damned good. She could have been a stripper. All of the terrorists laughed and cheered her on.

I glanced around to see virtually everybody staring at my wife's bare chest. There was no hint of chivalry anywhere. In the back of the plane I could detect Kurt and my other two co-workers standing up. They would tell everybody at work about seeing my wife dance topless.

Holly continued moving her hips up and down and in circles. Her hands roamed up and down her sides. She slid them up over her tits once, quickly lifting them and dropping the jiggling jugs. She ran her hands up through her hair again, and then rested her left hand behind her on her hip, thrusting her chest out.

The terrorist pointed his knife at her panties. Holly didn't hesitate this time, and obediently grabbed the sides of her panties. She stretched out the waistband, alternating left and right, lifting each up and then pulling it down, as her dancing focused on her thrusting pelvis.

The tiny panties started to roll down her legs as my wife bent her knees and leaned forward, and her brown pubic hair came into view. Holly continued dancing as she pulled the panties down to mid-thigh, and left them there for a moment while she rubbed her hips and sides again. There was a whistle from the terrorist in the rear, and the lead terrorist moaned and smiled while staring at her pussy point-blank. Holly moved her feet together to let her panties fall, and they slowly rode down her legs, until she had do squat down to push them off her feet.

Holly turned her back to her audience, spread her legs, and wiggled her ass. Her tan lines approximately delineated where her thighs ended and where her ass cheeks started. Her butt looked bigger than it had before her pregnancy, but it was still round. For some reason I fixated on her ass crack, seeing it exposed to others for the first time.

Holly turned around again and continued her sultry nude dance for the terrorist's pleasure. She spread her legs slightly and bent her knees, her hands continuing to roam all over her naked body.

The lead terrorist laughed, threw his left arm around Holly's bare waist, and groped her right tit. Holly lowered her head, her hair hanging over her face. After trading some laughs with the second terrorist at the front, the second terrorist also approached Holly, and he felt her left tit with his left hand. They roughly squeezed and grabbed her tits, as they bobbled all over the place.

The lead terrorist pushed Holly against the cabin door, leaned over, and planted his mouth on Holly's tit. The second terrorist did the same. Holly let out a loud moan as she had her two tits sucked on by the Arabs. I saw her glance up and around. Everybody was still watching her.

The two men used their free hands to grope my wife's ass, and run their hands over her pussy mound. Holly squirmed and writhed, emitting little moans and squeals, throwing her head back, but not fighting at all.

The third terrorist, in the back of the plane, hollered out something in Arabic, the lead terrorist answered him. Then the lead terrorist said to Holly, "He wants to feel your tits, too. Go to the back of the plane." Holly was released from her grip. She glanced at me briefly, then back at the first terrorist, and then started walking towards the back of the plane. The plane was hitting some turbulence, and Holly walked slowly, holding onto the seats as she walked, her naked tits jiggling. I could see heads turning to watch her as she walked by each row. Her ass looked pretty good jiggling down the aisle.

Holly reached the rear of the plane. The rear terrorist reached out and groped her tits, while Holly steadied herself by hanging onto a seat, her legs spread. The terrorist also reached between her legs and rubbed her pussy, and squeezed her jiggling ass.

"Now, everybody! Let everybody feel you!" Yelled the rear terrorist. He pointed his weapon at the man in the very rear aisle seat, and said, "Feel her up." When he hesitated, the terrorist turned to Holly again, and said, "Tell him you want him to feel your tits. Say it – 'Feel my tits'!"

After some rehearsal, Holly was forced to say to the passenger, "Feel my tits," in a weak wavering voice. Finally the passenger reached out, and touched Holly's left breast. He looked at the terrorist as he did, and the terrorist apparently told him to feel them harder or something. I couldn't make out his exact words from the other end of the plane. All I could see was this man getting more aggressive while he felt my wife's tits. Soon another man was reaching out for Holly and feeling her up.

The back terrorist made Holly turn to the opposite side of the aisle, and repeat her "Feel my tits" line. Men from the aisle, middle, and window seats stood up and felt her tits. The terrorist said something else, and the guy on the aisle seat reached around and felt her ass.

The terrorist was taking Holly up the aisle, and making everybody feel Holly, while Holly repeated such lines as "feel my ass," and "rub my hairy pussy." Apparently the first English words this guy learned were the dirty ones. She was made to lean forward while men felt her dangling tits, and spread her legs so others could cup and rub her pussy. "Pinch my nipples." "I'm naughty, spank me." "Coffee, tea, or me?"

In about the fourth row from the back, I spotted my three co-workers, Kurt, Alex, and Neal. Holly leaned forward letting her tits dangle, while Kurt in the middle reached out and played with her. He was the first of the passengers to have a smile on his face while he groped my wife. Neal was in the aisle seat, and I watched helplessly as he inserted his middle finger into her pussy and rapidly finger fucked her. Alex also grabbed a tit and pulled on her nipple. Damn! Those bastards will tell EVERYBODY how they fondled my naked wife!

Holly continued up the aisle, repeating her lines to the passengers, and everybody getting their feels in, even some women. The drunk that had earlier groped her had woken up and played with her tits, as did the old guy that had sat on the other side of Holly. And so did the two guys that had sat on either side of me.

The rear terrorist rushed things a bit as he got closer to the front, but most passengers managed to get their feels in. As Holly was deposited back at the front of the plane, the second terrorist had pulled out a beverage cart to get himself a pop. He pushed the cart into the aisle. He threw a blanket over the cans on top of the cart, grabbed Holly by the waist, picked her up, and dropped her butt on the cart. Holly squealed as the rear terrorist pulled her backwards, and laid her flat on her back on the cart, her legs dangling over the other edge. The second terrorist grabbed her hips, burrowed his head between her splayed legs, and began eating her muff. Holly squealed again, as the rear terrorist felt her tits as they sat up on her chest. The lead terrorist also reached over the cart and played with one of the tits, as Holly squirmed and writhed.