Between the Seats

They should have considered themselves lucky; really, this was not an easy flight to book on such short notice. But staring at the seats they would be occupying for the next eight hours, luck didn't pass through their thoughts at all. Something close to luck, however;

"Fuck!"

He hissed as quietly as he could. "We're sitting separately!?" Her disappointed glance answered back, they would indeed have to spend the first leg of their romantic getaway apart. She quickly took her seat, sandwiched between two older men. The both of them Mister Rogers clones, down to the cardigans and 50's style hair cuts; a dying breed.

He sat down in the row behind her, also surrounded by what appeared to be a group of geriatrics traveling together. How much more boring this flight could get, he could not imagine.

Thank god they expected to sleep through most of it. And after the plane took off, sleep took them quickly.

Hours slipped by as they all slept.

His eyes lazily parted, savoring the delirious blur the dark cabin presented him. He didn't bother to focus. Not yet. He enjoyed the delicious sensation of half-consciousness, the confidence that a simple closing of his eyes would send him back to his dreams. If only all mornings where this obligation free. He listened to the white noise airplane droning, the stillness of sleeping passengers, and felt at peace. He always slept well on airplanes, but his wife was not so lucky. It was a shame, really, that she could not feel the way he did now, in a warm bath. She couldn't sleep upright. He hoped she at least managed some rest. He allowed his eyes to drink in more, his vision remarkably keen considering the only light source was the floor running lights.

He peeked between the seats ahead of him to see his wife flat on her side and out like a light.

He grinned. The poor sucker to the left of her was recruited as a pillow. He imagined the embarrassed older gentleman staring down blankly at the girl cuddled up in his lap. It's probably been a while for him, he should count himself lucky. But his head was back deep in the pillow, his eyes shut, and his sinus's gently whistling. Everyone seemed to have found sleep.

He peeked through the other gap in the seats to see that she managed not to have spilled out onto her other row mate. Her knees where tightly curled up to her chest. He shot a mischievous glance at the daring skirt she was presently stretching out of shape. At this angle he couldn't get a peek at anything scandalous, but was reasonably sure the gentlemen to the right of her could get quite the show. He giggled a little thinking back on how he had talked her into not wearing panties, and how grateful he was now that she had chickened out at the last minute.

Remembering earlier.

"What if I get pulled aside in customs??" She spoke, honestly nervous.

"Well, then.... they're gonna strip search you anyways!" He grinned playfully, finding himself a little excited by the idea that conjured. Common sense brought him down, he was sure the reality was not as sexy as what he was imagining. She seemed to concur with the glare she answered back. So the white cotton panties went on, and the promise of intercontinental horseplay faded.

The first disappointment.

He wished he could see those panties now, but he had the whole holiday to enjoy her intimately. He smiled at the thoughts tumbling through his head and let the bliss carry him back to sleep.

Hours later he woke to the same scene; dim, silent cabin, the gentle snoring of sleeping passengers; his wife sound asleep, lounging across her two unfortunate isle mates. As his eyes became more accustomed to the light, something seemed different; a shock of white.

Her skirt had ridden up during the night. He could see her panties unevenly pulled across her exposed bottom, and if he could see, so could the man to the right of her. Blood emptied out of his brain and warmed in his lap. This was pretty sexy...

...Someone else thought so too.

An old hand reached out gingerly to the hem of her skirt and gently pulled at it. He could not believe what he was seeing; the old man beside his wife was trying to look up her skirt! As half awake as he was, he couldn't get his head around it. He watched, paralyzed. Should he cough, make a noise, interrupt this little intrusion? He pretended to sleep, letting his eyelids narrow. His wife stirred gently and the hand retreated. Good... Maybe that was as bold as he would get.

His eyes stayed fixed on his wife's exposed bottom, almost breathless. Minutes drifted by. He would love to tell her what had happened once they landed, he could see the look on her face now. She was so cute when she blushed.

The hand returned. A single index finger reached out whisper-gentle... ... and traced a slow line across where her sex hid beneath her white panties.

"What the Fuck," he thought, a territorial violence surged red through the front of his face. But the heat in his lap returned. His hips tensed. He continued to watch.

The old man's finger continued to gently caress his wife's pussy through the cloth of her underwear. Very slowly, being careful not to wake her, his finger tip grazed across the cloth. The youthful roundness of her labia unmistakable as the white cotton shifted. Every time she shuddered, or made the gentle adjustments people do as they sleep, the hand flinched back. He could imagine the older man's eyes jamming shut in pretend sleep. This carried on for at least ten minutes.

Gentle breaths could be heard from his wife's mouth. On some level, she was responding to his touches.

The cotton darkened under his finger as her pussy began to moisten, even through the cloth he could see it spasm like an open mouth. Her hips gently pushed against his hands. He became bolder and more fingers descended from his palm. His forefinger pressed down on her, causing the panties to tuck gently between her, her quickening moisture now allowed the sweet color of her lips to show through the damp cotton. Even covered, it was clear she was completely bald. It was a holiday gift for her husband.

His now shiny fingers got very brave. They looped themselves around the elastic leg band and slowly pulled her panties to the side. She gleamed like a sea shell in the dim lights, pink and shiny. A long pause followed that could only be a moment of appreciation from the older intruder.

His middle finger split her lips apart and sunk into her.

Slow.

She mumbled in her sleep enthusiastically, still quite unaware of the situation. He began to dip his finger in and out of her gently, taking care not to wake her. More fingers intruded. Every exit of his showed his digits becoming wetter and wetter. His thumb swirled around her clit in slow gentle circles. Her hips lifted to meet his strokes. He dragged a moist trail of her sweetness down to her ass, and gently pressed his finger slowly into her; into her ass.

Her Husband watched, transfixed. His hands crossed shyly across his lap, pressing rhythmically against his erection. He watched, aroused, while the old man violated his wife in her sleep.

The old man's wandering hands retreated out of view. His whole seat shook with some unseen action. A hand placed it's self tightly on the top of the chair and it sunk under shifting weight. What was he doing? More minutes passed as the chair quivered.

Now he saw.

The older gentleman had wormed his pants and underwear down to his thighs, and was furiously gripping at his huge cock to bring it erect. His constricted thighs gave no room for his snow kissed balls, pushing them up and forward. The fierce head of his cock protruded from his fist and sluggishly arced upward; a pale and tired python sniffing out its dinner. He awkwardly shimmied his hips forward to bring him closer to his wife's exposed delicates. His knuckle white dick wiggled loosely.

This was the husband's limits, it had to be. He had to stop this; this went beyond a playful teasing into something darker.

No?

He remained hypnotized; willing the other mans cock forward, vicariously hoping it would plunge into his wife. Enthralled by the peculiarity of it; his hands pressed down on his erection, pushing down with it the guilt. He wanted to see this. He needed to see this.

Contact.

The old man's hips closed in on his wife, and he gently nestled his cock between the warm cheeks of her ass. It lazed about, drunken and not nearly erect enough to do any damage. He flicked it gently back and forth across her pussy, more like a tongue than anything.... concerning. It gathered at her entrance, and his hand tightened and pushed forward to trap blood in the final four inches of his member. It reddened and tightened, proud and angry against her lips. It inched gently forward.

It stalled momentarily at her gates, and then slid in. He fed the rest of his length with a slow push of his hips. Surely this would wake her.

She indeed responded. A husky moan gathered through her teeth and she twisted in the other man's lap. Still asleep, her head rolled between his legs to face him, her jaw digging roughly into his crotch. Her mouth mawed at him like a landed fish. The fabric of his pants began to swell with the new pressure. He also had managed to sleep though this disturbance, but not all of him. A bulge tightened beneath her resting lips. His cock reached for her mouth through his pants. She unconsciously closed her lips over his covered shaft, and her teeth gently bit down. The other older man's head waved back and forth, the dream gathering in his brain not too different from the reality of what was happening in his lap. He pressed his hips forward, pushing himself into her sleeping mouth.

A few short thrusts.

He grunted sleepily, his pelvis arched forward, picking up her head, and emptied himself into his pants. His face pinked in orgasm. His come pooled under the weave of his pants and around her lips darkly, and the continued gyration of his hips spread the mess across her face. Her lips and cheeks began to glisten with his spent passion.

Her husband abandoned all dignity and pulled his cock from his pants.

The old man continued to slowly, slowly, slowly slip his ghost white cock between his wife's unsuspecting pussy lips. He watched as her labia folded and hugged around his thick, shiny shaft.

In and out.

In and out.

They all came at once. The old man pulled his brute from her pussy and it surged ferociously onto her ass. His mess practically slapping her with it's stringing velocity. Gurgling jet after jet emptied onto her bottom and oozed down her ass onto the seat below. Her pleasure was evident in her clenching buttocks, her rasping voice and the cat like arcing of her pelvis. She shuddered as her orgasm pierced her brain and shook her hips. He rubbed his cock back and forth across her, using her as a towel to rid himself of his terrible evidence.

The cabin was too asleep to be woken by their moans.

After a few seconds passed, he carefully returned her panties to the full and upright position, gently dabbed away the stickiness from her smooth ass, and pulled the sorry excuse for a blanket down to hide her gorgeous behind. The invasion would hopefully exist only in her dreams. Everyone drifted off into sleep.

The morning brought awkward smiles.