Airsick

by Arthur Saxon
meganeura@hotmail.com

Adrian Stonecutter had barely settled into his seat when a pretty blonde flight attendant came down the aisle with a young black woman in tow. “Excuse me,” she said. “Sir?”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“This young lady would very much like to be able to sit next to her husband, the gentleman sitting next to you. They were unable to reserve adjacent seats when they booked … would you be willing to swap?”

Adrian glanced to his left, at the young black man looking at him hopefully. “Oh!” he said. “Of course! I’d be happy to. Wouldn’t want to keep a young married couple apart.” He reached underneath the seat in front of him, retrieved his laptop, and got to his feet. At six foot three, he towered over the two women as he fetched his carry-on from the overhead compartment.

“Thank you so much!” said the young black woman, smiling happily.

“Your kindness is appreciated,” said the flight attendant. “I’ll show you to your new seat.”

Adrian glanced at her lapel badge. “You’re welcome, Vanessa,” he said. He followed her down the aisle until she stopped and turned, gesturing to an aisle seat in the left. “Hi,” he said to the timid-looking teenage girl sitting in the middle seat, and the older woman in the window seat who was presumably the teenager’s mother. The family resemblance was obvious: both had very fair skin and striking red hair, and both were very attractive. The main difference between them was that the mother was fuller in the face and figure, while the daughter was very petite. The mother was wearing a collared blouse and a miniskirt, and lots of makeup. The daughter was wearing a short sundress, whose spaghetti straps appeared to be the only things going over her shoulders. This strongly suggested that the girl was not wearing a bra. She did have quite small breasts; perhaps she felt that she did not need one.

The mother smiled warmly. “Hi there!” she said. “Wow, you’re a big fella, aren’t you? Have a seat!”

“Thanks,” said Adrian, putting his carry-on in the compartment above the teenager’s head. Then he sat down, carefully.

“I’m Dorothy,” said the mother, “and this is my daughter, Marina.”

“Nice to meet you both!” said Adrian. “I’m Adrian.”

“Do you have family in England?” Dorothy inquired.

“No, I’ve actually just been visiting my family,” said Adrian. “They’re all in Michigan. I live in England, all on my lonesome! Little village called Bramley Heath. How about you?”

“My cousin Meg lives in London,” said Dorothy. “She invited us to stay for a couple of weeks. But I gotta ask … what made you move to a little English village?”

“I needed a change of lifestyle,” Adrian explained. “Ten years in civil engineering in Chicago – it was killing me. I took a vacation to England last summer because I needed a break, and found myself in Bramley Heath – the most beautiful little village you could imagine. Thatched cottages, trees everywhere, a village green, an old stone bridge over the river that flows through the middle of the village … oh my gosh, well, I just fell in love with the place. Actually…” He fished his phone out of his pocket, and pulled up a photo album containing all of his favourite village photos. “Check it out.” He held the phone towards Dorothy and Marina.

“Ohhh, I love it!” gasped Dorothy.

“It’s so pretty!” Marina exclaimed.

Adrian nodded. “I had just broken up with my girlfriend,” he said, “and had nothing to keep me in Chicago. So I applied for a visa, sold up, and moved there. Bought a cottage, started an engineering consultancy business, and now I’m living my best life.” He sighed. “I feel very fortunate.”

“Is there much call for civil engineers in a rural English village?” Dorothy inquired.

Adrian smiled. “Well if the pandemic taught me anything,” he said, “it’s that I can work from home just as effectively as in the office. After a few months of that, I figured I could live anywhere I wanted. And that’s what I’m doing. I live in the perfect house, in the perfect place.”

Dorothy looked at him slyly. “Now you just need someone to share it with, right?” she suggested. “A pretty little bride to make your life complete?”

Adrian chuckled. “That’d be nice,” he said. “Not many English girls are attracted to fat, broke Americans.”

“You’re broke?” asked Dorothy, sounding disappointed.

“Well, I’m still getting myself out of debt,” Adrian elaborated. “But the past few months have been very promising, business-wise, and I’m starting to build a loyal customer base. I should be in the black by this time next year, and after that I expect to be doing pretty well for myself.”

Dorothy smiled. “I’m sure you’ll find someone,” she said. “You’re a nice-looking guy, and plenty of girls like to cuddle up with a big ol’ teddy bear of a man.”

Adrian smiled. “I hope you’re right.”

*

Meanwhile, a few seats further forward, twenty-five-year-old Claire Britten was feeling rather stressed. She had booked herself an aisle seat, but having reached it, she now found it occupied by a large man wearing a denim jacket with no sleeves. His thick bare arms were covered in tattoos. Summoning up all her courage, she said, “Um … sir? My boarding pass says …I mean, I think maybe … this is my seat…?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” said the man. “My seat’s actually this one…” He patted the seat next to him. “…But I was really hoping this one would be available. I have a … a bit of a medical issue, you see, and it would be best if I could have easy access to the aisle, in case I need to run to the toilet. I hate to ask, but … would you mind letting me have this seat, and take mine instead?”

“Um … sure,” said Claire. She was not at all happy about this arrangement, but she was far too kind a person to refuse a polite and reasonable request like this. With a slightly forced smile, she squeezed past him as he stood up to make room for her. As he glanced down into her cleavage, the buxom brunette found herself regretting her choice of a low-cut t-shirt to wear with her dark yellow pleated skirt, which stopped just short of the tops of her knees. As she sat down, she was glad she had not chosen a shorter skirt; she could feel the man’s eyes all over her. She could also feel his shoulder and biceps.

“Sorry if I’m taking up more than my share of the space,” he apologised. “It’s a little cramped, isn’t it? Maybe the window seat will stay empty, and then you can have that one.”

“That would be nice,” she said hopefully. She wondered if she might have misjudged this man.

“My name’s Shaun,” said the man.

“I’m Claire,” said Claire. “Nice to meet you.”

“Sorry to make you move,” said a male, English-accented voice, “but I believe that’s my seat. Would you mind awfully…?”

Claire looked up to see a stocky man in his early thirties, pointing at the empty window seat. His facial features implied Chinese ancestry, but he sounded as if he had just emerged from Buckingham palace.

“Of course,” said Shaun, getting to his feet again. “The lady and I were just introducing ourselves. She’s Claire; I’m Shaun.”

“Pleased to meet you both,” said the newcomer, standing back so that Shaun could step out into the aisle. “My name’s Benny.” He smiled down at Claire’s cleavage as he sidled past her. Having taken his seat, he tucked a small bag beneath the seat in front of him, then he sat upright again.

Claire now found herself sandwiched between two rather large men, and she felt very small and squished. She also felt as if both of them were peering down into her cleavage. This was going to be a very long flight…

*

A few rows from the back of the plane, first-time flyer Timothy Buckley had just taken an aisle seat next to a woman in her mid-thirties. She was an attractive and curvaceous Italian-American lady, and her large breasts were practically spilling out of a very low-cut red dress. She gave Timothy a warm smile. “Travelling alone?” she asked him.

Timothy nodded, trying not to look at her chest. “I’m on my way home,” he said. “I’ve been staying with … with a girl I met on the internet.”

“Oh!” said the woman. “And how did that go?”

“Not very well,” Timothy confessed.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the woman sympathetically. She extended a hand. “My name is Rosita,” she said.

Timothy shook her hand, blushing. “I’m Timothy,” he said.

“I’m happy to meet you, Timothy!” said Rosita. “I have a feeling we are going to become good friends.”

“Thank you,” said Timothy, a little flustered. Changing the subject, he gestured to the old man sitting on Rosita’s other side. He was leaning against the side of the plane, with his head slumped forward and his mouth open. He seemed to be asleep, or unconscious. “Is … is he okay?”

glanced at the old man, and nodded. “That’s my Nonnino,” she said. “My grandfather. He feels he is not long for this world, and asked me to take him to see Italy one last time. He grew up in Calabria, in a beautiful little town in the countryside…”

“It’s really nice of you to do this for him,” said Timothy.

Rosita smiled. “What else is family for?” she said. Then she grinned. “It’s okay to look, you know. Why do you think I wear this dress? Come on … get it out of your system.”

In great relief, Timothy allowed himself to stare openly at Rosita’s mesmerising cleavage. “They’re so … beautiful…” he breathed.

Rosita laughed. “I’m glad you like them,” she said. “Now put your tongue away, there’s a good boy.”

Abashed, and rather aroused, Timothy smiled shyly at her, then he turned and resolutely faced forward, paying close attention as the flight attendants began the safety demonstration.

Ten minutes later, the pitch of plane’s engines began to climb. “Oh God,” Timothy muttered.

“Are you nervous?” asked Rosita. “There’s no need to be nervous. Would you like to hold my hand?”

Timothy smiled at her sheepishly. “Would you mind?”

Rosita smiled, and took hold of his hand. “Just look at my chest, if you need a distraction while we take off,” she said.

“You’re very kind,” said Timothy. “Of course I’d love to. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “Okay, here we go.”

Timothy squeezed her hand as he fixed his eyes on the twin fleshy mounds bulging out of her neckline. They began to jiggle with the plane’s vibration as it picked up speed. Trying to ignore the shaking and the sensation of acceleration, Timothy focused intently on Rosita’s chest for the next few seconds, only briefly glancing up to note in surprise that her grandfather was somehow sleeping through this experience.

Then the shuddering eased off, and Timothy looked out of the window, gasping at the ground sinking away out of sight. “We’re in the air!” he said.

Rosita chuckled. “Yes we are,” she said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Timothy looked down at her chest again. “It was very good,” he admitted impishly. “I was sort of hoping they might … pop out…”

Rosita laughed. “You wish!” she said. Then she winked at him. “Perhaps I’ll give you a little treat later – if you’re very good.”

Timothy’s cheeks and ears blazed crimson at this thought, and he grinned excitedly.

*

About half an hour into the flight, the flight attendants served dinner. “Hmm, this is pretty good!” said Adrian, after swallowing a mouthful of his beef stew. “And so much of it! I wouldn’t have expected this from airplane food.”

“Atlantic Air definitely has the most generous meal sizes of any airline,” said Dorothy. “Makes up for the lack of leg room. A bit.”

“Yeah,” agreed Adrian, grimacing a little as he tried to flex his knee joints a little. “This isn’t the best airline for tall people.”

*

Fortunately the lack of leg room was of little concern to the five-foot-three Claire Britten, who was more bothered by the lack of space between Shaun’s right elbow and Benny’s left. She was also bothered by the vulgar conversations the two of them kept having over the top of her head, though she was too timid to voice an objection. The comments they were making directly to her, too, were getting more and more lewd, and this was making her very uncomfortable.

Once a flight attendant had collecting their trash, and she had put her tray table back up, Shaun smiled down at her cleavage. “What size are those boobs, anyway?” he inquired. “E cup?”

“D,” she replied, blushing to the roots of her hair.

“Ah,” said Shaun. “They probably just look bigger because you’re so small.”

“Good things come in small packages,” remarked Benny.

“True,” agreed Shaun. “Your body may be small, Claire, but it’s beautifully formed.”

“Th-thank you,” she stuttered, wishing she were somewhere else.

“I had a girlfriend once,” said Benny, “who had the most delightful breasts. Unfortunately she also had a flat bottom and chunky legs, which is not the best combination.”

“Well you can’t have everything,” said Shaun. “Even that Chrissy Teigen … you know her? Model. Internet celeb. Beautiful woman, lovely boobs and legs … but zero ass. Freely admits it, too.”

“Isn’t she married to some hip-hop artist…?” Benny hazarded.

“John Legend?” said Shaun. “He’s not hip-hop! Jeez, dude. Anyway, Chrissy’s pretty entertaining. I follow her on Twitter.”

“I don’t,” said Benny, “on account of my not being a twelve-year-old girl.”

“Ouch!” said Shaun, grimacing. “Look, I make no apology for following a witty model on Twitter. She makes me laugh.”

“If you say so,” said Benny, chuckling. “I’ll take Claire over some Hollywood bimbo any day, though. She’s got a pretty face, marvellous breasts as far as I can tell … I’m guessing she has the legs, from what I can see of them…”

Shaun leaned forward, and peered down at Claire’s left leg, which was bare from knee to ankle. “Looks good from the knee down, I guess,” he said. “But I don’t know. Maybe the reason she wears knee-length skirts is because she has chunky thighs.”

“Can you please talk about something else?” said Claire plaintively.

“I think you struck a nerve there, Shaun,” said Benny with a chuckle. “Is that right, Claire? Is it your thighs that let you down?”

“No!” said Claire, feeling rather indignant. “My thighs are just fine, thank you very much. But I’m not about to show them to you!”

“Why not?” Benny inquired. “You show them to total strangers at the beach, don’t you? Or at a swimming pool?”

“Maybe she doesn’t,” suggests Shaun. “Maybe she’s too self-conscious about them.”

“The beach is different!” said Claire, feeling very stressed. “This is an aeroplane!”

“Aer-o-plane!” said Shaun, laughing. “Isn’t that the cutest?”

“Cute or not, it’s merely correct,” said Benny. “You Americans and your butchering of the English language…” He smirked. “Sorry – I shouldn’t poke fun. Look, Claire, this is different from the beach – you’re right. It’s more private! Hardly anyone can see you right now, and even fewer will know if you show us your thighs. To ease our curious minds, why not pull up your skirt a bit? We’re not exactly asking you to change into a bikini, right?”

“I … I’m not really comfortable…” said Claire, her cheeks bright red.

“That’s just because you’re worried something bad will happen,” said Benny. “But nothing’s going to happen, I assure you. You think we’re going to risk having our wicked way with you, right in the middle of a packed Boeing 737 with flight attendants patrolling every few minutes? Of course not! Besides, I’m not that sort of chap – and I’m sure Shaun isn’t either.”

“I’m definitely not that sort of chap,” said Shaun, mimicking Benny’s accent and grinning.

“Would it be fair to say,” Benny went on, “that you’re nervous about what we’ll think of your thighs? What we’ll say?”

“Yes,” Claire admitted.

“Then let us probe to you that your anxiety is unfounded,” said Benny. “Would you permit me to take your hand?”

“Um,” said Claire, but Benny had already taken her right hand in his left. He gently stroked her fingers with his thumb.

“Try to relax,” said Benny soothingly. “You’re so tense! Shaun, take her other hand please.”

Shaun took Claire’s left hand in his right, and stroked her fingers, like Benny was doing. He had no idea where this was going, but he was happy to tag along.

“Now,” said Benny, taking hold of the hem of Claire’s skirt with his free right hand. “Shaun, could you grab the other side? Claire, Shaun and I are going to slowly pull your skirt up to uncover your thighs. Just tell us if you become uncomfortable with how much we’ve exposed.”

“I’m uncomfortable now!” said Claire nervously. She was not happy about having both of her hands held, so that she could not hold her skirt in place.

“This isn’t going to work, Claire,” said Benny reproachfully, “if you’re going to act like a frightened little mouse. If you’re truly not embarrassed about your thighs, just relax and allow us to take a look at them. Then we can give you our objective opinions … and I’m sure you won’t be unhappy to hear what we have to say.” He began to pull on the skirt, tugging it slowly up her thighs. On his side, Shaun did the same, keeping pace with Benny so that both thighs became exposed at the same rate.

“So far, so good,” Shaun remarked, as the skirt’s hem reached mid-thigh.

“I think that’s far enough!” said Claire, with a little nervous laugh.

“Not quite,” Benny corrected her, continuing to pull her skirt up. “Seeing just the lower half of your thighs isn’t really enough to make an informed evaluation. From what I can see, you have lovely thighs … but in order for Shaun and me to be truly sure, we do need to see a little more.”

“Can … can you please let go of my hands?” Claire pleaded. “I’m feeling … trapped.”

“I’d be happy to,” said Benny, “except that you’d immediately pull your skirt down, and we’re not ready for you to do that yet.”

“I won’t,” Claire said desperately. “I just … I’d just like to have my hands free.”

“Hmm,” said Benny. “I don’t know. Do you promise?”

“I … I promise,” said Claire.

“Say, ‘I promise I won’t pull my skirt down if you let go of my hands’,” said Benny.

Claire bit her lip. “Will you promise to pull it down for me?” she asked anxiously.

“Of course,” Benny assured her. “Shaun and I will return your skirt to its former coverage when we’re done checking out your thighs.”

“Okay,” said Claire wretchedly. “I promise I won’t pull my skirt down if you let go of my hands.”

Benny smiled. “There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said, letting go of her right hand. “Shaun, you can let go too.”

Shaun did so, but like Benny, he continued to pull Claire’s skirt up her thighs, until her white panties began to peep into view.

Claire gasped. “That’s too far!” she whisper-squeaked.

Benny grinned at her panties. “No, this is fine,” he said. “Your panties are clean, and pretty, and cover everything they’re supposed to. They’re not showing anything a bikini wouldn’t. Now, let’s talk about your thighs.”

“Yes,” Shaun agreed. Together with Benny, he pulled up Claire’s skirt even higher, then bunched up and folded back the material until, when they let it go, it remained in place, with most of the front of her panties on display.

“You have lovely thighs,” said Benny simply. “Absolutely top-notch. Don’t you think so, Shaun?”

“Yep,” Shaun agreed. “Grade A thighs.”

“Thank you,” said Claire uncomfortably. “Can you pull my skirt down now, please?”

“Not yet,” said Benny cheerfully. “Shaun and I haven’t finished checking out your thighs. We’ll just leave your skirt up for a while.”

Shaun chuckled dirtily as he ogled Claire’s panties, and Claire whimpered unhappily.

*

Not long afterwards, the cabin lights were dimmed. Rosita’s grandfather was still fast asleep, and Rosita reclined her seat so that she could have a nap too. “No molesting my boobs while I sleep, Timothy,” she admonished her young companion.

“I would never!” Timothy replied, shocked.

“I know you wouldn’t,” she replied, smiling at him warmly. “I was just teasing you. Still…” She paused thoughtfully. “I’m sure you’ll be tempted…. You know, if you want … why not give them a little squeeze? Just this once. I don’t mind; you’re a nice young man.”

Timothy stared at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded. “Go on – have a little play.”

“But,” said Timothy, wide-eyed, “your husband…?”

“Ex-husband,” said Rosita. “He has no say in the matter.”

Wasting no more time, in case she changed her mind, Timothy turned to face Rosita. Taking hold of both of her breasts through her dress, he began to squeeze and caress them. “Wow…” he breathed. “Amazing…”

Rosita smiled. “Surely you must have touched a woman’s breasts before?”

Timothy blushed. “Well … yeah,” he said. “Once. But they weren’t anything like yours.”

“Awww,” said Rosita. “Your time will come, cutie. In the meantime, I think that’s enough. I’m going to try and get some sleep.”

Timothy let go of her breasts. “Thank you very much, Rosita,” he said earnestly.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she said, reclining with her eyes closed. “You should try and sleep, too.”

“I will,” he replied.

*

A little while later, flight attendant Mary Wolsey was heading down the right-hand aisle when she paused next to Shaun, who was chatting to an unhappy-looking Claire. “Excuse me,” she said, frowning. “Is there a problem here?”

Claire looked up. “These two men pulled my skirt up!” she said indignantly.

“Oh really?” said Mary, glaring at Shaun, and then at Benny. “I’ll deal with you two later. In the meantime, Ma’am, pull your skirt down, and I’ll see if I can find you another seat.”

“I’m not allowed to pull it down,” Claire replied dolefully. “I promised I wouldn’t.”

“What the…” Mary began, puzzled. Then she pursed her lips. “Look, don’t involve me in whatever little game you’ve got going on here, please. I have a job to do.” And she turned away and resumed her walk down the aisle.

“Tut tut,” said Benny, shaking his head. “That was naughty, Claire.”

“You totally ratted us out!” said Shaun, annoyed.

“I’m sorry!” said Claire, quailing.

“Perhaps we should evaluate your breasts next,” mused Benny.

“Please don’t!” said Claire desperately.

“I don’t mean bare,” said Benny. “You can keep your bra on. Just take off the t-shirt.”

“Please no!” gasped Claire.

“What’s the matter?” Benny teased her. “Your bra provides the same coverage as a bikini top, right?”

“Yes, but…” Claire bit her lip, not knowing what to say to dissuade Benny.

Benny chuckled. “All right, you can keep your top on,” he said. “But only if you promise not to complain any more about your panties being uncovered. They’re going to stay uncovered for the rest of the flight, okay?”

Claire’s shoulders slumped. “Okay,” she said.

“Good girl,” said Benny.

Shaun’s bowels rumbled. “I don’t feel so good,” he muttered.

Benny nodded. “My tummy’s not very happy either,” he said. “Maybe there was something wrong with the fish. We all had the fish, right? How are you feeling, Claire?”

“Not very well,” she confessed, rubbing her abdomen.

*

Moments later, the plane lurched. Adrian’s face paled, and sweat began to bead on his forehead. “Ugh, turbulence,” he muttered. “I hate turbulence.”

The plane lurched again, and Vanessa staggered to the intercom. “Please remain in your seats,” she said. “We are currently experiencing some turbulence.” The plane dropped suddenly, lifting her off the floor. She landed unsteadily. “I repeat, keep your seatbelts on, and do not leave your seats!” she said urgently. “This turbulence is severe, and may cause injuries if you are not properly secured.”

The plane continued to bounce around, and Adrian clutched his stomach.

“Goodness!” said Dorothy anxiously. “I’ve never known turbulence like this! Are you okay, Adrian?”

Adrian turned to answer her, but then the plane lurched again, and this time his stomach did too. “HUUUUUAAAARRRRGHHHHHH!” Vomit exploded from his mouth, deluging the front of Marina’s sundress. The teenager shrieked in horror.

“Ugh!” she cried. “Look what you’ve done, you jerk!”

“Marina!” her mother scolded her. “It’s not his fault. Please apologise.”

“It’s okay,” groaned Adrian, as the plane continued lurching unpleasantly. “She’s understandably upset. I’m so sorry, Marina.” Then, “HAAAAUUUURRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!” He clutched his stomach as he bent forward, pouring vomit all over her chest. Marina shrieked again.

“Oh my!” said Dorothy, recoiling a little. “Still, Marina’s already messy, at least. You might as well keep throwing up on her, rather than mess up your nice clothes.”

“Mom!” Marina exclaimed in dismay. “Oh my God! I need to go clean up!”

“You can’t get up right now,” said Dorothy firmly. “You’ll get tossed around so bad you’ll probably break an arm or something. Sorry, but you’ll have to stay in your seat for now.”

“Ugh!” Marina groaned. “But my dress…”

“Your dress will easily wash, honey,” said Dorothy soothingly. She began to wipe down the front of her daughter’s dress with her bare hand. The sodden material clung to Marina’s small breasts and plastered itself around her slim, flat belly like a second skin. But as Adrian’s vomit poured down into her lap, the messy teen hastily lifted up the hem of her dress, attempting to form a bowl in which to trap all of the vile chunky liquid. Despite his nausea, Adrian could not help looking down at Marina’s bare thighs with interest … and Dorothy noticed this. “That’s a good idea,” she said. “Make a little parcel of it all.” And she ‘helped’ Marina by pulling the hem of the dress back over the top of the pool of vomit, enclosing it completely and, in the process, exposing her daughter’s panties to Adrian’s startled gaze.

“Mom!” said Marina anxiously.

“Oh don’t worry, honey,” said Dorothy calmly. “Poor Adrian’s far too unwell to be concerned with your panties. Wouldn’t you say so, Adrian?”

“Mom!” Marina protested.

“I’m so sorry, Marina,” was all Adrian could manage to say.

“If you need to throw up again,” said Dorothy kindly, “just aim for Marina again. She’s already…”

But then, with the plane lurching again, and the stench of vomit in her nostrils, Marina herself now lost control of her stomach. Putting a hand to her mouth, she heaved, and funnelled a full pint of vomit down the front of her dress. Her mother, acting quickly, opened up the sundress parcel and caught the descending mess in the increasingly hard-to-contain vomit lake within.

“Oh dear, this is getting quite hard to manage!” she remarked. “Perhaps you should just take the dress off, honey – then we can spread it out, and catch any more that … comes out.”

“What?” Marina gasped. “No, Mom! I’m not wearing a bra!”

“Oh yes, I’d forgotten that,” said Dorothy, nodding. “Oh dear. Well, we’ll have to lift this up higher, in any case…” She began to fold up the parcel again, this time exposing a few inches of skin above the waistband of Marina’s pale blue panties.

Adrian was queasily rummaging through the pocket in the seat in front of him, looking for a paper bag. “They don’t have barf bags on this airline?” he wondered aloud.

“None here either,” said Dorothy, investigating the pocket in front of her. “But seriously, Adrian, don’t worry about it. Just throw up on Marina again if you need to – it’s fine.”

“Mom!” Marina exclaimed in exasperation. “Stop telling him that!”

“It just makes sense, honey,” said Dorothy, unruffled. “Adrian’s clothes are currently clean, and yours aren’t. As soon as the turbulence ends, you can go clean up.”

“Thanks,” said Adrian, feeling rather faint, “but I think I’m … HEEEUUUUURRRRRGGGHHHHH!!!” He doubled over, vomiting all over Marina’s panties and upper thighs.

“OH MY GOD!” Marina shrieked, horrified.

“So … sorry!” spluttered Adrian, spitting out chunks as he slowly straightened up, his face ashen.

*

Meanwhile, Claire Britten was clutching her abdomen and groaning in discomfort. “I really need to use the toilet!” she gasped. She had reclined her seat a little in order to sleep, but with the turbulence and the pressure in her bowels, there was no way she would be getting any sleep anytime soon.

“Me too!” said Shaun through clenched teeth as he gripped the sides of his seat. “I need to poop so bad!”

“Same here!” said Benny, writhing in his seat while punching his right thigh with his right fist. “Ugh! What the devil was wrong with that fish?”

“I don’t know!” Claire wailed, “but I … oh no!!!” She gripped the armrests either side of her, and froze in panic. “It’s … I’m so sorry!”

“What?” asked Shaun. “Are you … pooping right now??”

“Yes!” Claire exclaimed in distress. “I can’t stop it! Oh … oh! It’s coming out!” She could feel her panties filling up with soft poo, and she lifted her bottom off the seat in disgust, only to have another lurch slam her back down. “Ugh!!”

“Jeez!” said Benny, momentarily distracted from his own torment. “You’re really doing a poo? Oh heck, I can smell it.” He waved a hand in front of his face, grimacing.

“Ugh!” said Claire, once again holding her bottom off the seat. “There’s so much! But I can’t hold it in anymore, I’m sorry!”

“Take off your skirt,” Benny instructed her. “Or it’ll get as disgustingly messy as your panties. You’ll want something clean to wear after this is over.”

“Ohh!” Claire groaned.

“You might as well!” Shaun grunted. “You’ve promised to keep your panties uncovered for the rest of the flight anyway. What difference will it make?”

“Ugh, I don’t know!” said Claire.

“I’ll help,” said Benny, and he unhooked and unzipped the side of her skirt. Then, since she was still holding her bottom off the seat, he dragged her skirt downward, beneath her now-bulging panties, and down her thighs to her knees and beyond.

Claire was beyond caring. She had given up trying to fight against her poo, and was now actively pushing it out. She sighed with relief as it poured into her panties with the consistency of warm porridge, causing the stretchy white material to expand away from her bottom. “Ahhhh…”

“Does that feel good?” Shaun inquired. “I’m almost envious.”

“It’s horrible!” Claire lamented. “But … at least the pressure is going away…”

“I’m not going to shit myself!” Benny growled, rubbing his forehead in great stress. He glanced at Claire’s hugely bulging panties. “Ugh, I can’t help feeling like you’re the lucky one, though. This is torture!”

“Tell me about it!” groaned Shaun, sweating profusely, his face contorted with pain.

Benny now spotted something in the seat pocket in front of him. “Aha!” he said, pulling out a flattened paper bag. “Sorry, you two, but I’m going to defecate into this.” He opened it up, then unfastened his seatbelt.

“Should you be doing that?” asked Claire anxiously. “The turbulence … what if a big one hits? I only loosened my own seatbelt…”

“The only ‘big one’ that’s going to hit,” said Benny grimly, “is my poo hitting this bag. Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.” He hurriedly unbuckled his belt, and unzipped his trousers. Then he stood up, pulled down his trousers and underwear, and squatted, holding the open bag beneath his bottom with both hands. The plane jolted, and he was thrown against the side wall, then back so that he fell across Claire’s bare legs. “Bugger!” he said.

“Are you okay?” asked Claire.

Benny got to his feet, rubbing his bruised shoulder. Then he handed Claire the bag. “You’ll have to hold it for me,” he said tersely. “I need my hands to brace myself.”

“Ugh, really?” said Claire, trying to support herself with just one hand while holding the bag with the other. “Oh goodness … all right … I’ll do my best…” She moved her knees to the left as Benny positioned himself almost in front of her, facing away from her and squatting, with his bottom above her upper thighs. She held the open bag beneath his anus, grimacing.

With his hands gripping the head rest of the seat in front of Claire’s, Benny relaxed his anus, which immediately expanded as a thick soft turd began to slither out. But then the plane lurched again, and Benny’s feet were lifted clean off the floor as he was thrown upwards and backwards. Cursing, he managed to keep hold of the head rest, but as he came down with his arms extended, his bottom landed squarely on Claire’s chest. Unable to stop himself from emptying his bowels, he pushed hard.

Claire squealed in alarm as she felt Benny’s warm poo forcing its way between her breasts and into her cleavage. “Benny!” she exclaimed. But Benny just groaned in relief, and Claire whimpered as she felt his poo surging down the front of her belly, inside her t-shirt.

“Oh my God!” gasped Benny. “Such a relief…”

“I’m so messy!” Claire wailed. “Benny, I can’t believe you’re doing a poo on me!” She could feel it piling up around her belly, as friction and the tightness of the t-shirt kept the poo from slipping all the way out at the bottom.

Shaun chuckled. “That looks fun,” he said, before grimacing again. “Ugh – my turn, Benny!”

Benny squeezed out the last of his poo, and then he pulled up his underwear and trousers. “Thank God for that!” he said. “All yours, Shaun.”

“Wait – you’re not going to do a poo on me too, are you?” Claire gasped.

“What difference will it make?” Shaun demanded. “You’re messy already! I’m still clean, and I’ve put myself through hell to stay this way! You’re going to have to shower and clean your clothes anyway, right?”

“Yes, but…”

“So a bit more shit won’t kill you!” said Shaun, unbuckling his belt.

“Can’t you use the bag?” asked Claire desperately, as the big man stood up and pulled his jeans down. “I can hold it for you…”

“That didn’t work out so great for Benny!” said Shaun. “Nope – your chest is a bigger and easier target.” He put one foot up on his seat, leaned back until his bare bottom was positioned above Claire’s chest, and the stricken young woman watched in horror as an inch-thick rope of soft poo began to rapidly extrude from between the American’s meaty buttocks. It hit her left breast, two inches above her neckline, then bent over and fell across her cleavage, before looping back and starting to pile up, gradually becoming a vast, shapeless mass, which began to sink into her cleavage as more and more weight heaped up on top. By the time Shaun was done, half of Claire’s chest was covered in poo, and her eyes were watering from the smell. With the plane still bouncing around as well, she started to feel distinctly queasy.

*

Meanwhile, Timothy was looking for a bag. “I think I’m going to be sick!” he groaned. “This turbulence is awful!”

Rosita nodded sympathetically; she herself was feeling only slightly unsettled, thanks to the Dramamine she had taken before the flight. Sleep, however, was currently out of the question. She rubbed Timothy’s shoulder. “Take deep breaths,” she said. “Would you like to lay your head on my chest?”

Timothy paused his search. Such an opportunity could not be missed. “Yes please…?” he said hopefully.

Rosita smiled. “I thought that might take your mind off your stomach,” she said. “Come – rest your head on my breasts.”

Timothy sighed happily as he put his right arm around Rosita’s waist and snuggled up against her, laying the side of his head upon her ample bosom. Her cleavage, dark and inviting where it disappeared into the neckline of her dress, was so close to his face that he could not properly focus on it. Hesitantly, he puckered his lips and kissed the soft flesh of her left breast. She made no objection, but instead laid her hand upon his head and started stroking his hair.

Emboldened, he raised his left hand and gently cupped her right breast, slowly kneading and caressing it while he rested his head. Still, Rosita did not object. ‘What a wonderful woman she is!’ he thought to himself.

The plane lurched again, and his stomach suddenly rebelled. Before he could even lift his head, he abruptly convulsed, his upper body tensing up as vomit surged up his gullet and erupted from his mouth. It cascaded over the twin mounds of Rosita’s breasts, most of it then pouring into her cleavage and disappearing inside her dress. Some of it, however, spilled over and ran down her front.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!” he said, aghast, as he raised his head. What an awful way to repay this lovely lady’s generosity!

“Hush, sweet boy,” said Rosita softly, as she gently pulled his head against her breasts again. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“But … I’ve got you so messy!” said Timothy.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, stroking his hair. “And if you need to throw up on my breasts again, just go ahead and do it. It’s really okay.”

Timothy relaxed. What a woman! So beautiful and kind. The plane bounced around some more, he felt suddenly queasy again … but this time he remained relaxed and let it happen, retching and then opening his mouth to let his vomit gush over Rosita’s breasts and into her cleavage. But the flow was so great and the vomit was so chunky that her cleavage became clogged so that it overflowed, and a river of vomit poured down the outside of the front of her dress, ultimately pooling in her lap.

“That’s it,” she said softly, cradling his head and stroking his hair gently. “Just let it out…”

*

“Ugh, this is so gross!” Claire wailed, staring at the disgusting misshapen soft brown mountain on her chest. “What am I supposed to do with all of this horrid poo?” She was leaning back against her partially reclined seat, and the poo pile was currently staying in place. If she straightened up, however, it would no doubt slide off and land with a splat on her thighs.

Shaun shrugged. “Stuff it down into your cleavage,” he said. “Looks like it’s heading that way anyway.”

“And then what?” she asked plaintively. “It’ll all just fall right through, on to my lap! All of Benny’s poo is already about to do that…”

“So hold your panties open,” Benny suggested, “and let them catch the poo as it falls through.”

“Ugh!” Claire exclaimed, horrified. “I can’t do that!”

“Your panties are already full of poo,” he pointed out. “What’s a bit more?”

“Well for a start it’s a LOT more!” said Claire. “And it’s, you know … in the front! It’s different from in the back.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Claire,” said Benny sternly. “I think you’ll agree that these are exceptional circumstances, and needs must. So chin up, stiff upper lip and all that. And don’t worry, Shaun and I will help you.”

“Help me how?” asked Claire nervously.

“Best if we just show you,” said Benny. He turned toward her, and carefully took hold of the material of her t-shirt, down at the bottom, where it was bulging with his poo. “Okay, Shaun, get ready to pull open the front of her panties.”

“What?” said Claire, alarmed. “No, wait…”

“Wait for what?” Benny inquired, as Shaun leaned over and took hold of the waistband at the front of Claire’s panties with both hands. “You just going to sit there with a pile of poo on your chest for the rest of the flight?”

“Well no,” fretted Claire, “but there has to be a better solution…”

“There isn’t,” said Benny firmly. “Bombs away, Shaun!” And he pulled Claire’s t-shirt away from her belly. At the same time, Shaun pulled out the waistband of her panties, briefly exposing her pussy to Shaun’s and Benny’s eyes, though not to her own; her view was obscured by the mound of poo on her chest.

Benny’s sludgy poo now slid and oozed down her belly and into her panties, slowly burying her pussy under a growing pile of smelly excrement.

“Whoa, there’s a lot!” Shaun remarked. “I don’t think it’ll all fit in your panties, Claire. When I let go of the elastic, the waistband will just snap against the side of the pile, rather than over the top.”

“Open your thighs, Claire,” said Benny. “Some of it’s going to have to go down between your legs, I’m afraid.”

“But then it’ll be … you know…” said Claire uncomfortably.

“That’s fine,” said Benny, “it’ll just join up with what’s in the back. Go on Claire, spread those lovely legs of yours.”

Claire hesitantly parted her thighs, and some of the sludgy poo began to sink down between them, sliding down the gusset of her panties and oozing past her vaginal opening. “Ugh!” she muttered unhappily.

“It’s working,” said Shaun, “but I don’t think it’ll be enough. Plus there’s all the poop on her chest. What are we going to do with that?”

“Well,” said Benny, “if her panties are full, there’s always her bra…”

“Oh no!” Claire gasped.

“Oh yes!” said Shaun. “Plenty of room in that, I’d guess.”

“Can you get your bra off, Claire,” asked Benny, “without dislodging all that poo on your chest?”

“No!” said Claire, very red-faced. “Definitely not.”

“I suspected that might be the case,” Benny acknowledged. “Okay … the t-shirt will just have to come off, then.”

“What?” said Claire anxiously.

“Your bra will be way too hard to remove with your t-shirt on,” Benny explained. “So take off your t-shirt, then your bra. Once you’ve filled your bra with the poo on your chest, you can put your t-shirt back on.”

“But in the meantime, I’ll be topless!” Claire exclaimed. “No! I’m not doing it!”

“But if we don’t put all that poo in your bra,” said Benny reasonably, “where are we going to put it?”

Claire had a brainwave. “The sick bag!”

Benny picked it up off the floor, and looked at it. “Oh,” he said. “I’d forgotten about this.”

A head appeared over the top of the seat in front of Claire. It was male, and aged about thirty. “Did I hear you say you have a barf bag?” asked the man. “We don’t have … what the heck??” He stared in shock at Claire’s bulging panties, and the mound of poo on her chest.

“Never mind the young lady,” said Benny. “She’s having a bit of a rough flight.”

“I thought I smelled poop…” said the man, “but anyway – as I was saying, we don’t have any barf bags over here, and my wife’s been throwing up all over herself. My dad’s with us, too, and he’s feeling pretty crappy. Could he have your barf bag, please, before he loses his dinner and makes even more of a mess?”

“Sure!” said Benny, instantly handing it to the man.

“Thanks!” the man replied gratefully, wresting his eyes away from Claire’s poo-filled panties.

“Benny!” Claire cried in anguish.

“Sorry,” Benny apologised, “but it seems his need is greater than ours.”

“I wouldn’t say that!” she said mournfully.

“Well, we don’t have a bag now,” said Benny, “so we’ll have to use your bra. Come on – off with the t-shirt.”

Claire whimpered.

*

Vanessa Hill, meanwhile, was feeling completely overwhelmed. This was her first time on a transatlantic flight for a major airline, and she had never experienced anything like this. A dozen lights on the seat map were blinking, indicating passengers requesting assistance, but her boss, Elvis Horton, had at first not allowed her to respond to any of them. “You think you’re immune to the effects of extreme CAT just because you’re a flight attendant?” he had inquired. “If you hadn’t been strapped in half a minute ago, you’d have been thrown against the roof! You could have broken an arm or a leg, and then where would we be?”

“I’ve never even heard of CAT being this bad!” Vanessa had exclaimed.

“It’s rare,” Elvis had replied, “but it can occasionally be deadly. Don’t take any chances. You can go help passengers once the captain gives us the all-clear, and not before.”

The captain had, a few minutes later, given the all-clear for the flight attendants, but with minor turbulence still ongoing, there was chaos among the passengers. Many had thrown up, and a few – some of whom had complained of not feeling well even before the turbulence had struck – had lost control of their bowels. There was vocal suspicion that something had been wrong with the fish dinner.

“Can’t we let them go clean up?” she asked Ava desperately. “People are pooping in their seats, and there’s vomit everywhere! What happened to all the barf bags? Most rows don’t seem to have any at all!”

The plane lurched again, and both women staggered. “Only staff are allowed out of their seats,” said Elvis firmly. “Not the passengers – yet. And if this continues, we might be ordered back into our seats ourselves. In the meantime, just do what you can. I’ve no idea why there are so few barf bags, but it’s academic right now. What happened to your skirt?”

“What does it look like?” said Vanessa, with a helpless shrug. “Some kid threw up all over it.”

“Well you can’t attend to passengers like that!” said Elvis. “You’ll gross them out. Okay, gross them out even more. Go and change into another skirt, or pants.”

Vanessa bit her lip, embarrassed. “I … I don’t have either,” she said. “All I packed were some snacks and … personal items. I figured I’d just wear the same uniform for the return flight.”

“Silly girl!” said Elvis, rolling his eyes. “Always bring a spare uniform! Well, I guess you’ll have to learn the hard way. You’ll have to finish up this flight without your skirt.”

“I’m sorry?” said Vanessa, thinking she had misheard.

“You heard me!” said Elvis. “Take off that messy skirt. You can’t wear it in its current state.”

“But I can’t attend to the passengers skirtless!” Vanessa exclaimed. “They’ll … they’ll see my underwear!”

“Yes, they will,” said Elvis grimly. “And you can explain to them why. At least you have your pantyhose – pity it isn’t more opaque.”

“You can’t seriously expect me to work without a skirt on!” said Vanessa, turning pale. “This … this is sexual harassment!”

“You watch your language!” Elvis snapped back. “It’s nothing of the sort. If you read your regulations, you’ll see that you are an ambassador for the airline while wearing that uniform, and are required to keep it clean and in a good state of repair at all times. You cannot, repeat, CANNOT perform your job in a soiled uniform. If working without your skirt on is too beneath your dignity, then you can just go find another career. Because no airline will hire someone who was fired for working in a vomit-covered skirt!”

Vanessa gulped. “I … I’ll take my skirt off,” she said. And, turning very red in the face, she unzipped the side of her skirt and pulled it down to her ankles.

As she stepped out of it, Elvis smiled at her white panties, clearly visible through the gauzy tan-coloured nylon of her tights. “Good,” he said. “Now go do your job … and if any male passengers try anything, report them to me. Your state of undress is not an excuse for them to harass you.”

Vanessa nodded. “Understood,” she said.

*

Adrian Stonecutter was feeling no better, but he was doing his best to help Marina get a little cleaner. As she held up the hem of her dress, forming it into a bowl that contained a mixture of her vomit and Adrian’s, he was scooping up double-handfuls of his vomit from her thighs and depositing them into the dress-bowl.

“I’m so sorry about touching your thighs like this, Marina,” he apologised for the fourth time.

“Don’t worry about it!” said Dorothy. “Seriously, Adrian. You’re being very kind by helping Marina to get her thighs clean, and it’s inevitable that you’ll need to touch her thighs and panties while you do it.”

“I’d rather you were doing it though, Mom,” said Marina morosely. “What if he cops a feel?”

“Well it’s his mess,” said her mother, “so it’s only right that he should clean it up. And if he cops a feel … well, could you really blame him? He’s wiping the thighs of a beautiful young woman – the temptation to misbehave must be hard to resist!”

“Mom!” Marina exclaimed anxiously. “Don’t give him ideas!”

“Don’t worry, Marina,” said Adrian. “I’m a gentleman; I wouldn’t take advantage of this situation.”

“You see?” said Dorothy, nudging Marina with her elbow. “He’s a nice man.”

Nonetheless, Adrian’s squeamishness about getting close to Marina’s panties was somewhat lessened after that, and with the last of the vomit now right up against the sodden material, at the very top of her thighs, he bit his lip. “Um, in order to get the last of it,” he said uncomfortably, “I’m going to have to, um…”

“You go ahead, Adrian,” Dorothy reassured him. “We understand; just do what you gotta do. Who knows – maybe Marina will even enjoy it!” She chuckled, and nudged her daughter with her elbow again.

“Mom!” said Marina, horrified. “I’m not going to enjoy it!”

“Oh, lighten up,” said Dorothy, rolling her eyes. “A very nice man is about to rub your panties; you can either be miserable about that, or try to enjoy it. I suggest you do the latter.”

“Gross, Mom!” Marina protested. Then she grimaced, as Adrian cupped his hand, and scooped vomit up the front of her panties, firmly stroking her panty-clad pussy with his fingertips. He tried to remain detached about this, but it was impossible not to feel a little excited.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, emptying his cupped hand into the vomit lake Marina was holding in front of her. “Oh, there’s a little more…” He reached down again, sank his fingers between her thighs, and slowly scooped upward, his fingers pressing into her soft labia through her vomit soaked panties.

“Ugh,” said Marina, shuddering.

“Keep rubbing, Adrian,” Dorothy encouraged him. “She’ll come around.”

“Mom!” Marina exclaimed.

“I’m not going to grope your daughter, Dorothy!” said Adrian uncomfortably.

“Thank you!” said Marina. “At least someone here wants to protect my body from getting pawed by strange men – even if it’s the strange man and not my own mom!”

Dorothy shrugged. “I just think you need to relax and enjoy being a woman,” she said. “When I was your age, I’d already had sex with four different men!”

“I’m not like you, though!” said Marina. “Thank goodness!”

“Don’t knock what you haven’t tried,” Dorothy advised her.

Adrian shook his messy fingers above the vomit lake, then looked around for something to wipe them on.

“What am I going to do with all this puke?” Marina asked plaintively. “I can’t hold it like this for the rest of the flight!”

“We need another container,” said Adrian. “I hit the button to summon a flight attendant several minutes ago, but I guess they have a lot on their plates right now…”

Dorothy nodded. “Do you have anything suitable in your purse, Marina?” she asked. “A zip-lock bag, or something like that?”

Marina shook her head. “Nope,” she said, “everything in there is loose. I do keep a spare pair of panties in there, which I would love to change into … but there’s not much point until I get rid of all this vomit. Also, I can’t hold my dress like this and change at the same time – it would be impossible.”

“You could probably do it with help…” her mother suggested.

“I’m not having Adrian take my panties off!” snapped Marina, rather more loudly than she intended. Then she looked around nervously.

“I was going to do it myself,” said Dorothy. “Although I’m sure Adrian would be happy to help too…”

“Oh,” said Marina. “Well … okay then. I really do want to change my panties. I think it’s the stomach acid in the vomit. It’s kinda … burning...”

“Well you should take your dress off too, in that case!” Dorothy advised her.

“No!” said Marina quickly. “My dress isn’t bothering me so much. It’s just my … look, I shaved this morning, okay? Down below. It’s a little sensitive.”

“Ah, I see,” said Dorothy. “Well, we should definitely get you into some clean panties in that case.” She reached down, and pulled Marina’s bag out from beneath the seat in front of her. “Which pocket…?”

“The one with the green zipper,” said Marina.

Dorothy unzipped the bag, and pulled out a white pair of panties. “Got them. Okay, how shall we do this? Can you lift your bottom up off the seat…?”

“Um … you’ll need to loosen my seatbelt first,” said Marina.

Dorothy did so. “How’s that?”

Marina straightened her body a little, so that her bottom rose off her seat by a couple of inches. “Okay,” said Marina, “um … Adrian? Can you turn the other way?”

“Best if he keeps facing this way, honey,” said Dorothy, “in case he throws up again.”

“Mom!” said Marina, aggrieved. “Why do you want him to keep throwing up on me?”

“If he throws up in the other direction,” said Dorothy, “it’ll be all over the floor of the aisle. What if a flight attendant slips in it? Or another passenger?”

“He can throw up all over himself,” Marina muttered rebelliously.

“Now now, honey – no point in him getting messy too,” said Dorothy.

“I’ll keep my eyes tightly closed,” said Adrian. “I won’t peek – I promise.” He closed his eyes.

“Is that okay?” asked Dorothy. “I believe he’s a man of his word.”

“I guess so,” said Marina reluctantly. “Okay Mom – pull them down.” She glanced around anxiously, hoping nobody was looking in her direction. Fortunately the only other people with a clear line of sight to her panties – the two middle-aged couples in the central section immediately to Adrian’s right – were currently obscured from view by Adrian’s hulking torso while he was turned towards her. Also, they were far too wrapped up in their own misery to concern themselves with what the teenage girl to their left was doing.

The plane dropped suddenly, and Adrian’s stomach lurched. He had been wondering if he had fully emptied it yet; he now discovered that he had not. Bending over, yet still managing to remember to keep his eyes closed, he felt new vomit surging up into his mouth with great force.

“HUUUUOOOORRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!” he vocalised involuntarily. A torrent of vomit poured out of his mouth, directly on to Marina’s naked, newly-shaved pussy. From there it rapidly spread sideways, some of it climbing up her abdomen and some flowing out towards her hips, but most of it getting channelled along the valley between her pressed-together thighs.

Marina squealed. “Pull them back up! Pull them back up!” she yelled urgently at her mother.

Dorothy quickly did so, just as the deluge from Adrian’s mouth was finishing. She therefore scooped up practically all of the vile yellow mess, efficiently capturing it within Marina’s panties, and as Dorothy tugged them snugly back into place around her daughter’s bottom and pussy, they bulged obscenely from all of the trapped vomit.

Marina stared down at her bloated panties. “What the hell!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean for you to catch all of the puke!”

“You told me to pull your panties back up!” Dorothy retorted. “I did exactly that. Do you want me to take them off again?”

“No!” said Marina. “I’m all messy now! I can’t put my clean panties on now or they’ll get messy too! But jeez, Mom – now I’ve got vomit all over my pussy!”

“Hush, honey!” said Dorothy nervously. “Adrian, you can open your eyes now.”

“Ugh,” said Adrian weakly, opening his eyes and staring down at Marina’s bulging panties. “Once again I’m very sorry…”

“Oh God!” Marina groaned. “My pussy! It’s burning worse than ever!”

“What if you part your knees, and let all the vomit drain into the back of your panties…?” Dorothy suggested. “Unless you shaved your buttocks too, it won’t sting as much back there.”

“Gross, Mom!” said Marina with a pained expression. “But I guess it’s worth a try … anything’s better than this!” She parted her knees, then parted them more, and the bulge slowly began to settle as the large quantity of vomit in the front of her panties started to flow down the gusset, past her vagina, and into the back, where it spread out to form a new, slightly sagging bulge. “Ugh – there’s still some on my pussy, and it really stings!”

“You’ll need to wipe it off and work it down into the back,” said her mother.

“How?” Marina demanded. “I need both hands to hold my dress and prevent all this other vomit from spilling everywhere!”

“Well don’t look at me!” said Dorothy. “My days of wiping clean your nether regions are long gone. Maybe you could ask Adrian nicely; it’s his mess after all.”

“Mom!” Marina complained. “Stop trying to get Adrian to grope me!”

“Fine,” said Dorothy calmly. “Feel free to sit there with your shaving rash marinating in vomit for the next few hours.”

Marina ground her teeth silently for a few moments. Then, “Ugh! I can’t believe you’re making me do this, Mom. Fine! But only because I’m desperate and in pain. Adrian, please could you wipe your vomit off my pussy and push it down into the back of my panties?”

Adrian’s jaw dropped. “Wh…what…?” he gasped.

*

Claire, meanwhile, was now topless. She had tried persuading Shaun and Benny to use one of their own items of clothing as a poo receptacle, but they had quickly shot down that idea, on the grounds that it would be simplest all round to confine the mess to one person and their clothing. Unable to muster any further counterarguments, she had reluctantly allowed Shaun to help her out of her t-shirt. It had not been easy, getting it off without dislodging the pile of poo being supported by her bra-clad breasts … but the deed had been accomplished, reducing her clothing to just her underwear and shoes.

Then Benny had reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. “Bra next!” He and Shaun had then pulled her straps off her shoulders, down her arms, and off completely.

Because she was using her hands to support herself and keep her bottom from squishing down on to her poo, Claire was unable to use them to cover her breasts, though she would dearly like to have done so. Shaun and Benny were being very complimentary, but the more they talked about the size and shape of her breasts, and the colour and perkiness of her nipples, the more she wished a hole would just open up in the top of the plane and suck her out to a merciful death.

Eventually, though, the work of filling her bra had to be done. “Don’t look at me,” said Shaun. “I’m not touching the stuff.”

“It’s your poo,” Benny reminded him.

“No, it’s my poop,” Shaun corrected him. “I’m an American, and I poop, I don’t ‘poo’.”

“Did you urinate after you defecated?” Benny inquired politely.

“No!” said Shaun. “Fortunately, no, I didn’t pee.”

“So there was no ‘p’ at the end of your ‘poo’,” said Benny. “Ipso facto, quod erat demonstrandum.”

“Huh?” said Shaun. “Look, whatever you wanna call it, I’m not touching it.”

“Neither am I,” said Benny. “Claire, you’ll just have to fill your own bra with Shaun’s poo.”

“Ugh!” Claire exclaimed. “Why do I have to? Haven’t I been through enough?”

“We’ll it’s either that or balance Shaun’s poo on your chest for the rest of the flight,” said Benny. “While topless.”

Claire wrestled with this choice for a few moments. “Ugh!” she said again. “All right. I think I can brace myself using just one hand … but one of you has to hold my bra open in front of me as I fill it.”

“I can do that,” said Shaun. “Just don’t get any poop on me!”

Secretly Claire thought that it would serve Shaun right if he got some of his own poo on him, but she was not going to make that happen on purpose. “I’ll try not to,” she promised.

Fortunately, the turbulence had settled down to a mere mild buffeting by now, and Claire found herself able to hold her bottom off the seat by bracing her feet against the floor and her upper back against her seat, with just her left hand gripping an armrest to keep her stable. Shaun held her bra unsteadily in front of her, cups horizontal and concave side up, and Claire, with a grimace of disgust, scooped up a large handful of the poo on her chest. She reached out, planted the chunk of poo in the left cup of her bra, then went back for more. Soon both cups were full, but there was still more poo on her chest, so she began piling the poo higher in both cups, until no more remained on her chest except for brown smears.

“Gross!” she said. “And my hand’s filthy now!”

Shaun helpfully began wiping her chest. “Here, we’ll soon have you cleaned up,” he said.

“Hey!” Claire protested. “Couldn’t you have used something other than my t-shirt?”

“Maybe,” said Shaun with a shrug, “but it was what was handy. Here, let’s get your hand clean too.”

“All right,” said Claire reluctantly, as he enclosed her hand in the material. “But I’ll really need to wash it!”

“Seems like the turbulence is settling down,” said Benny. “They’ll probably let us get up and use the toilets soon. But isn’t cleaning your hand a little premature, Claire? You’ve still got to deal with the overflow from your panties.”

Claire stared down at the poo mounded atop her pelvis and only partially contained within her panties. If she attempted to get up, or even if she sat up straight, a large portion of it would slide off her and spill on to the floor, if it did not flip the front of her panties down entirely and empty out a whole lot more.

“Maybe we could wrap up that excess poop in your t-shirt,” Shaun suggested. “Since it’s messy already.”

“But what am I supposed to wear?” asked Claire desperately.

“Your skirt’s still clean,” said Benny. “Maybe you can wear that as a kind of top, with the waistband beneath your armpits. Or you could just stay topless. People will understand. Do you think you’re the only person who’s ruined their clothes on this flight? Have you heard the number of people throwing up all around us? And do you think we’re the only people who had the fish?”

“I’ll try the skirt thing,” said Claire dolefully. “But everyone will see my panties!”

“By the time we disembark,” said Benny, “hopefully you’ll have had time to get them reasonably clean.”

This was not very comforting.

*

“I’m so sorry!” said Rosita, aghast, as Timothy stared at her in shock. “I … I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it in. It just … the pressure just became so intense!” She was holding her bottom up off the seat.

Timothy took her hand in his, and squeezed it. “It’s okay, Rosita,” he said. “You’re not the only one. I overheard the couple in front of us – they seem to think there was something wrong with the fish dinner – it made them both lose control of their bowels. You had the fish too, right?”

“Yes,” Rosita admitted. “But … I’m so embarrassed!”

“There’s no need to be,” Timothy assured her. “I’m the one who should be embarrassed. I threw up all over you! At least you kept your poo to yourself.”

“Yeah, but the smell…” Rosita began.

“…is barely noticeable among all the other smells in this plane right now,” said Timothy firmly. “So stop worrying.”

Rosita relaxed a little, and smiled. “Sweet boy,” she said. “Thank you – you’re very kind.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t have the fish!” said Timothy. “I’d hate to be gushing at both ends. But I feel very guilty now. I’m still perfectly clean, while you’re getting increasingly messy!”

Rosita smiled, and shrugged. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “I don’t mind being messy. I’m going to get a cramp though pretty soon, if I have to hold myself up much longer. I hope they let us go to the restrooms soon.”

Timothy bit his lip, and his cheeks reddened a little. “It … it could be a while,” he said hesitantly. “You may have to, um, you know … settle in and get used to it.”

Rosita raised an eyebrow at him, and smirked slightly. “Do you think I should, Timothy?” she inquired. “Do you think I should sit down, firmly, with my panties full of poop?”

Timothy’s cheeks reddened still further. “I … I know it’ll be pretty gross,” he said awkwardly, “but I wouldn’t want you to get a cramp. Besides, it might not feel … too bad…”

Rosita suppressed a smile. “I think there’s a lot of poop in my panties,” she said. “If I sit down on it, it’ll squish all around … it’ll get … everywhere…”

“Everywhere…?” Timothy whispered, his eyes wide. Then he cleared his throat. “I … I think you should do it,” he said. “You’re already pretty messy after all.”

“I am,” Rosita conceded, and she began to lower her bottom down on to the seat. “Well, here goes…”

“Wait!” said Timothy suddenly, in an almost strangled voice. “Wait … um … before you do … could I … maybe … see…?”

Rosita stared at him in surprise. “See what, Timothy?” she asked him. She knew very well what he was talking about, but she wanted to see if he was brave enough to spell it out.

Timothy hung his head a little. “Never mind – I’m sorry,” he said. “You’ve been so generous to me already, I have no right to ask for more…”

Rosita smiled at him affectionately. “Silly boy,” she said. “You want to see what my panties look like, full of poop, before I sit down and squish it all – is that right?”

Timothy blushed, startled by her candour … but then he nodded. “I’m … I’m just curious…”

Rosita glanced at her sleeping grandfather. Then she smiled at Timothy. “All right, sweet boy, you can take a peek if you want. I’m not shy.”

“Thank you!” said Timothy excitedly. He leaned forward, and craned his neck around so that he could see up Rosita’s dress as she hiked it up her thighs.

The curvaceous mother of three smiled affectionately at the flop-haired head of her young admirer, and spread her thighs apart. “Like what you see?” she asked him.

“Wow!” Timothy breathed, staring transfixed at the front of her white panties, down which a chunky river of vomit was slowly flowing. Below and further back, the garment ballooned downward under the weight of what looked like it must be a massive quantity of poo. The underside of the balloon was resting gently on the seat below – or rather, on the back of Rosita’s pretty dress, which she had tucked beneath her as she sat down and was now protecting the seat.

“That’s a lot of poo!” said Timothy. “Can you … can you sit down now…?”

Rosita slowly settled her full weight down on her bottom, while keeping her thighs apart. Timothy therefore had a perfect view as the balloon began to squish, then burst as soft poo erupted from the elastic leg seams. The vomit-soaked front of her panties now began to bulge outward as poo was forced forward, seeking more room. But then the smell and a new outbreak of turbulence made him feel queasy, and he sat up.

“That was extremely sexy,” he reported, his face pale, “but I’m afraid I might throw up again.”

“Awww,” said Rosita, pulling his head against her chest again. “Poor boy. Throw up into my cleavage again if you need to.” She paused. “You really thought that was sexy?”

“Oh yes,” he replied earnestly. “Very! I … I’m sorry. That probably seems really weird…”

“It’s pretty weird,” Rosita agreed. “But maybe we’re both weird, because I’m finding the experience … quite pleasant actually.” She wiggled her hips.

Timothy managed a faint grin. “Brilliant,” he murmured.

*

Not far away, Vanessa Hill stared in shock at the elderly English gentleman who had just thrown up all over her legs. “Sir!” she exclaimed in dismay.

“I do apologise, young lady,” said the man, mortified, as he dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief. “It’s this ghastly turbulence. I’ve never known anything like it in over forty years of flying!”

Vanessa marched grimly toward the front of the plane, where she met another flight attendant, Kirsty Dunbar. “Look what just happened!” she vented. “First my skirt, then my jacket, and now my pantyhose! I’m guessing Elvis will insist I take it off as well. This is so humiliating! What if someone throws up on my shirt next?”

“Then you’ll be in your undies,” said Kirsty with a shrug. “At this rate, we all will.” She herself had already lost her jacket.

“Don’t you have a spare uniform either?” asked Vanessa.

Kirsty pursed her lips. “I do,” she admitted, but then she saw Vanessa’s suddenly hopeful expression. “But I’m sorry, Vanessa, I’m not lending it to you. I’m likely to need it myself.”

Vanessa sighed. “Fine – I just really hope I get to keep my shirt on!” She grabbed the sides of her tights, and began pulling them down. “I can’t believe I left social work for this,” she muttered.

*

Meanwhile, Adrian could hardly believe what he was doing to the pretty teenage girl sitting to his left – and not only with her consent but at her express and urgent instruction. Marina was currently looking up at the glowing seatbelt sign with a grim expression on her face, clearly trying to ignore Adrian’s hand, which was industriously wiping vomit from her naked pussy. Dorothy was currently holding out the waistband of her daughter’s panties to allow him full access, and watching the cleaning action with a big grin on her face. “That’s it,” she encouraged Adrian. “Give her a good rub; she could really use it!”

“Mom, for heaven’s sake,” Marina growled, but her cheeks were flushed, and she was no longer being quite as vociferous in her protests as she had been earlier.

This fact was not lost on her mother. “Feeling better?” Dorothy inquired impishly. “Come on, admit it – it’s nice to feel a man’s hand gently rubbing your bits.”

“He’s being gentle because he’s a nice guy!” Marina snapped, rather disconcerted. “He doesn’t really want to do it, and I don’t want him to! I just needed to get all that vomit off my pussy.”

“Of course,” said Dorothy contritely. “My mistake.” Then she fell silent, and simply let the situation play out. Adrian had wiped Marina’s pussy pretty clean by now, but he was continuing to gently massage her labia, and with her eyes closed and her mouth open, she was making no objection.

Then Adrian stopped, feeling rather ashamed of himself. “I … I’m sorry,” he said, withdrawing his hand. “I’m afraid I let myself get carried away there. I’m so sorry.”

Marina opened her eyes, and for an instant she looked a little disappointed, as her mother let her panties snap back into place. “I can’t really blame you,” she said, “with my mom giving you all kinds of inappropriate encouragement.” She glared at Dorothy, and started to sit down, but as her buttocks began to settle into the reservoir of vomit now in the back of her panties, she hastily lifted herself up again.

“That’s very kind and forgiving of you,” said Adrian. “But if you feel the need to press charges, I’ll understand…”

“Oh don’t be silly!” said Dorothy quickly. “Nobody’s thinking of pressing any charges.”

“No,” Marina agreed. “You’re a nice guy, Adrian, and you were only doing what I asked you to do. And … you know … it wasn’t at all unpleasant…”

Dorothy smiled happily. “There you go!” she said. “And I’m sure you enjoyed it too, right Adrian?”

Adrian took a deep breath, and let it out. “Dorothy, you’re clearly trying to push me and your daughter together,” he said. “Perhaps because you’re hoping I’ll make a home for her in a very nice part of England – I don’t know. But I gotta ask … why don’t you hit on me yourself, instead of throwing your daughter at me? We’re surely closer in age…”

Dorothy laughed. “Flatterer!” she said. “How old do you think I am?”

“Um,” said Adrian. “Forty?”

“Try forty-eight,” said Dorothy.

“Oh!” said Adrian, surprised. “Well, okay. But you don’t look it.”

“I’m also married,” said Dorothy, holding up her left hand to show him her wedding ring. “Not to Marina’s birth-father, whoever he might be. But to a good man who does his best, and certainly doesn’t deserve for me to run off with a younger man.”

“She’s on husband number four,” Marina remarked with a smirk.

“Now now,” Dorothy scolded her, “there’s no need to be telling him that. The point is, Adrian, I’m unavailable. Marina, however, is very much available, and moreover a virgin…”

“Mom!” Marina protested.

“You must be tempted, surely…?” Dorothy pressed Adrian. “She’s a pretty girl, she’s nice and slim…”

“She’s lovely,” said Adrian, a little shortly. “It’s just a little hard to think about this kind of thing when I’m feeling like throwing up.”

“Again?” Dorothy inquired. “Is there anything left in your stomach?”

“Probably not,” admitted Adrian. “But that isn’t helping me feel any better. If only this plane would stop bouncing around…”

“Well if you’re done throwing up on me,” said Marina, with excusable bitterness, “can we figure out what I’m going to do with this vomit in my dress? I’d like to be able to cover up my panties again.”

“Hmm,” said Dorothy. “You’ve already got vomit in your panties; why not just put the rest in there? Then it’s all in one place, at least.”

“Not a good place, though!” complained Marina. “A terrible place!”

“True,” Dorothy agreed, “but that’s just where it is. Here, I’ll help you.” And she pulled open the front of Marina’s panties again.

“Ugh!” said Marina in disgust.

“Don’t be shy – Adrian’s already seen your pussy,” said her mother. “And you’ll need him to clean it again shortly. Now just unroll your dress, and let all the mess flow into your panties.”

Marina let down the front of her dress, and tried to make it into a valley so that she could give some direction to the vomit contained within. Initially she managed to get the chunky mess to pour into her panties in front of her pussy, but her mother subtly pinched the underside of the dress material and tugged it backward, so that the vomit began pouring on to Marina’s pussy. “Ugh!” exclaimed the teenager. “Wipe it off, wipe it off!” She tipped her dress at a steeper angle, trying to finish the pouring process more quickly.

“Would you mind wiping her dress down, Adrian?” Dorothy asked.

“Um, sure,” said Adrian, and he began rubbing his hand down Marina’s belly, shepherding the remaining vomit down the front of her dress and on to her bare pussy.

“I meant wipe it off my pussy!” said Marina.

“He’ll get to that,” Dorothy assured her. “Got to get it off your dress first! Okay, that’s good, Adrian. Now give her pussy some relief.”

Adrian moved his hand down to rub Marina’s pussy, and this time she simply closed her eyes and began breathing more heavily.

“Take your time,” said Dorothy. “There’s no rush.”

Since both mother and daughter seemed to want him to do this, and it was undeniably a pleasant task, Adrian started to sensuously massage Marina’s vulva, rather than diligently wiping it clean. He smeared the chunky vomit around, squishing bits of it into her clitoris, working the vile yellow fluid into every crevice. Marina’s small chest rose and fell, and she arched her back in response to the obvious pleasure she was feeling.

Dorothy caught Adrian’s eye, and winked at him. Then she raised the middle finger of her free right hand, and made little thrusting motions. Adrian stared at her; the woman was crazy! She clearly wanted him to stick a finger inside her daughter. He quickly shook his head, but she nodded enthusiastically.

Marina was clearly getting more and more aroused. Her hands gripped the ends of the armrests on which she was bracing her elbows. Her breath was coming in gasps. Adrian, despite his reluctance, was fondling her pussy ever more lewdly, exploring the contours of her vulva and paying particular attention to her clitoris. His fingers often slid down the groove between her labia, even as far as her vaginal opening, but so far he had not dipped inside. Bowing to Dorothy’s encouragement, however, he now dipped a vomit-lubed fingertip inside, before pulling it out again.

Marina’s only response to this was a little moan, so a moment later he tried again, going slightly deeper this time. His third and fourth visits went deeper still. Her vaginal opening was below the level of the surface of the vomit lake in her panties, so he inevitably found himself pushing bits of vomit inside her each time he inserted his finger, but either Marina was unaware of this or she did not care, for she had by now unconsciously spread her thighs wider and was undulating her hips, grinding her pussy against his hand.

Adrian, now highly aroused himself and lost in the thrill of this adventure, buried his middle finger deep inside Marina and began thrusting it in and out with a squelching sound. Marina bit her lip, trying not to make a noise; she too was so wrapped up in the excitement of this extraordinary situation that she now wanted it to continue more than she wanted it to stop. When she had first felt Adrian’s finger dip inside her, she had been inclined to react with indignation, but upon feeling the finger withdraw, she had been surprised to find herself feeling disappointed. Then, when the finger had returned, she had almost willed it to go a little deeper this time. And now, of course, it was far too late to credibly protest … even if she wanted to.

“Ohhh … oh yes…” she gasped.

“Slow down,” Dorothy murmured to Adrian. “Take your time; make it last. No need to rush her to orgasm.”

Adrian slowed his pace, and Marina spread her legs wider, pushing her pelvis forward, trying to impale herself more deeply on to Adrian’s finger. This experience was so surreal – she was lying almost horizontal, her legs spread, her panties full of mushy vomit, her mother holding open the front of those panties so that a strange man, his hand half-buried in the vomit, could probe her vagina with his thick middle finger. And against all reason, she was enjoying it…

*

“Um,” said Timothy Buckley timidly, “Rosita?”

“Yes, sweet boy?” Rosita replied, stroking his hair fondly.

“May I … please … have another look at your panties?” Timothy asked hopefully.

Rosita said nothing for a moment. Then, “I don’t see why not,” she said. “Pull up the hem of my dress, and feast your eyes.”

“Thank you!” said Timothy, and be lost no time in following her instructions. “Wow…” The bulge in the front of her white panties fascinated him. “May I … look inside?” he ventured cheekily.

“Getting a little greedy, aren’t you?” Rosita remarked with a smirk.

“I’m so sorry,” said Timothy, mortified. “That was too much to ask. I apologise humbly…”

Rosita laughed. “You can look,” she said. “You may not like what you see, though.”

“I’ll take that chance,” said Timothy happily. Reaching down, he delicately grasped the waistband of Rosita’s vomit-soaked panties with his finger and thumb, and pulled it outward, away from her pelvis.

Inside, he saw the upper edge of a neatly-trimmed patch of dark pubic hair. The rest of it was hidden behind a smelly towering mound of dark brown poo, flattened from front to back, which had arisen like a demonic tongue from beneath Rosita as she sat down with her thighs apart. Timothy stared at it in fascination. The thought that Rosita’s pussy was pressing into that disgusting stuff was weirdly erotic.

The plane dropped like a stone, leaving Timothy’s stomach behind. When it caught denser air again it jolted, and Timothy’s eyes bulged as he heaved, bringing up a fresh load of vomit. It surged from his mouth, pouring directly into Rosita’s panties, swamping her pubic hair and the upthrust tongue of her poo. Both were quickly buried, but the deluge continued until Timothy finally gasped for breath, spitting chunks into a yellow gloopy lake of vomit that filled the front of Rosita’s panties. He let go of the waistband and it snapped almost shut, enclosing the majority of the vomit. The rest was squeezed up over the top, and ran down the front in a short-lived vomitfall which disappeared between her thighs and then ran back, following the underside of her panties until it met the back of her dress. There it pooled, soaking in, and beginning to congeal.

“I’m sorry!” moaned Timothy. “What a way to repay your kindness!”

“You know I don’t mind you throwing up on me, sweet boy,” said Rosita with a warm smile. “Come here. You look white as a sheet! You must be feeling so miserable, poor thing. Lay your head on my chest again. Play with my boobs for a while, if you want. Hopefully the turbulence will end soon.”

Feeling groggy, Timothy laid his head back down, his open mouth leaking yellow drool into Rosita’s cleavage. He brought his hand up, and began caressing and squeezing Rosita’s right breast through her dress, while she resumed stroking his hair. “There there,” she said.

*

Up near the front of the plane, an elderly woman in first class had vomited all over the floor in front of her. “Clean it up!” she barked at Vanessa.

“Ma’am, we don’t have the resources for that,” said Vanessa, feeling exhausted. “We’re only cleaning up messes in the aisles right now, since they’re a safety hazard.”

“You can’t leave it like that!” exclaimed the old woman indignantly. “Do you know who I am? Get me your supervisor!”

Vanessa nodded, and went off in search of Elvis. She soon found him: he was trying to reassure a hysterical mother of two crying toddlers that no, the plane was not going to crash, that it was built to handle turbulence even this severe, and no, she could not go to the bathroom to empty her panties.

“Elvis, I’ve got a grouchy old witch in first class demanding I clean up her puke,” she told him, when he had managed to get away. “It’s all over the floor, but not in the aisle, so I told her…”

“Gladys Dolomite?” Elvis inquired. “White hair, purple jacket, strings of pearls?”

“That’s the one,” said Vanessa.

“Vanessa, she’s a VIP!” said Elvis in exasperation. “Worth a fortune, rubs shoulders with world leaders, that kinda thing.”

“Oh God!” Vanessa groaned.

“You need to go back to her,” said Elvis firmly, “apologise, and clean up her mess as best you can.”

“Ugh!” said Vanessa. “Damn it. This flight is getting worse and worse!”

“Yeah, talk about a baptism of fire,” Elvis acknowledged. “It’s not always like this, trust me. Frankly, it’s never like this! You just got really, really unlucky.”

“Tell me about it,” Vanessa muttered. “Okay, I’ll do what I can.”

She grabbed a roll of paper towels – the last one, alarmingly – from the supplies cupboard, and returned to Gladys Dolomite. “I apologise for not cleaning up this mess right away, Mrs Dolomite. I confess I did not know how important you are. I’ll clean this up right away.”

“Supervisor gave you a lecture, did he?” the old lady inquired with a satisfied grin. “Anyway it’s Miss, not Mrs. I never married.”

Vanessa got down on her hands and knees, and began wiping up Gladys’s vomit. “Never?” she asked. “Wow – how did you manage that? You must have had lots of opportunities!”

“Lots,” the old woman agreed. “Lots of fawning suitors, all eager to dig their greedy paws into my bank accounts. No thank you!”

Vanessa sat back on her heels. “But didn’t you ever … you know … fall in love…?”

Gladys sighed, and looked dreamily into the middle distance. “I sure did,” she said. “Linda Farrell. Beautiful girl. Loved horses, wine, and me. I took her on as my live-in secretary, and we spent forty-three wonderful years together.”

“Wow!” said Vanessa. “Good for you! Is she…”

“Died nine years ago,” said Gladys. “Liver cancer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” said Vanessa.

Gladys shrugged. “She was old,” she said. “It happens. We had a good life together, at least. Now stop slacking off, and finish cleaning!”

Vanessa bent forward again, and was in the process of scooping up some more vomit when the plane gave another sickening lurch. The old woman bent over almost double, heaved, and unleashed a fresh torrent of lumpy yellow fluid. It hit Vanessa squarely in the middle of her back, then rapidly spread outwards, flowing down to the small of her back as well as laterally, following the curvature of her rib cage. The thin material of her blouse quickly became soaked through.

“Oh my God!” Vanessa exclaimed, freezing in horror.

“Uurghh,” groaned Gladys, sitting back in her seat and clutching her stomach. “This turbulence will be the death of me.”

“My shirt!” Vanessa wailed. “Now Elvis is going to make me take it off!”

“You don’t have a spare?” Gladys asked, intrigued.

“No!” said Vanessa. “I’m going to be wearing nothing but my underwear and shoes!”

“What fun!” the old woman cackled. “Well you’re halfway there already. Go on – take off your blouse.”

“I’m not doing it for your entertainment,” said Vanessa peevishly.

“If you have to do it, do it!” said Gladys. “Whether I enjoy it is irrelevant.”

Worried that the vomit would run off the bottom of her blouse and on to her panties, Vanessa reluctantly sat up and began undoing her buttons. A moment later, she was carefully extracting her arms from the sleeves.

“Very nice!” said Gladys approvingly, her gaze flitting from Vanessa’s face to her C-cup bra to her panties, and then back up again. “You’re an attractive woman and you obviously take good care of your body.”

“Thank you,” said Vanessa uncomfortably. Then, with a sigh, she folded up her blouse with the mess on the inside. Setting it down next to her, she pulled a few more paper towels off the roll, and resumed mopping up the old lady’s vomit.

*

While these events were unfolding, Claire Britten was arguably having an even worse experience. Weary of constantly having to hold her bottom up off the seat, she had been shifting her weight from one side to the other, alternating between her left elbow and her right. Then something happened which made her feel – at least temporarily – ten times worse. The plane lurched suddenly – this was the event that made Gladys vomit all over Vanessa’s back – and Claire’s left elbow slipped off its armrest. This had two immediate and very unpleasant effects. Firstly, the edge of the armrest dug into the fleshy part between her humerus and ulna, painfully squishing her ulnar nerve. “Gyah!” she exclaimed, immediately lifting and extending her left arm to relieve the sudden shooting pain. “My funny bone!”

“Ouch,” said Shaun sympathetically. “Hate it when that happens.”

Secondly, of course, with her primary means of support removed, Claire’s bottom thumped down into her seat. As the shock of hitting her funny bone wore off, the horrible sensation of her bottom and pussy squishing firmly into her poo – and Benny’s – began to sink in. “Ugh!” she groaned. “I’m sitting in all the poo now!”

Benny chuckled. “It was probably inevitable,” he said. “You couldn’t have held yourself up forever. Better sooner than later, I suppose.”

“Easy for you to say!” Claire retorted. “Your private parts aren’t squishing into someone else’s poo!”

“No, they’re not,” Benny agreed. He shuddered. “God, that would be horrible!”

“It is!” Claire confirmed vehemently. She flexed and straightened her arm a few times. “You can’t imagine how disgusting this feels!”

“Well,” said Benny thoughtfully, “there is a solution to that, I suppose…”

“I’m all ears,” said Claire grumpily.

Benny shrugged. “You could just take off your panties and clean yourself up.”

“With what?” asked Claire. “Also, then I’d be naked!”

“With your skirt,” said Benny. “It’s the only garment of yours that isn’t full of poo already.”

“But then what will I wear when we leave the plane?” Claire wailed.

“You can still use the skirt,” said Benny. “Sure it’ll be messy, but it’ll be a temporary thing. At least, for the rest of the flight, you’ll be relatively clean and your pussy won’t be squishing around in my poo.”

“That does sound preferable,” Shaun agreed.

“But … I’ll be naked!” said Claire plaintively.

“You almost are anyway,” Benny pointed out. “It’s a very small step further.”

“Easy for you to say,” Claire muttered again.

“Come on,” said Benny. “See if you can get those panties off without making too much mess.”

Claire whimpered.

*

For the third time, thanks to Adrian’s thrusting finger, Marina was about to reach her orgasm … when once again her mother put a stop to it by laying her hand on Adrian’s arm. He immediately stopped moving, causing Marina to growl in frustration.

“I think it’s time for the two of you to have sex,” said Dorothy.

Adrian stared at her. “What??” he said incredulously.

“Mom!!” Marina exclaimed. “Are you crazy? Why would you say that?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Adrian agreed.

“Don’t look so shocked,” said Dorothy cheerfully. “I know you both want it, even if you aren’t willing to admit it.”

“I do not!” said Marina indignantly. “I’m willing to admit I’m very horny and would very much like an orgasm, but that doesn’t mean I want to lose my virginity right now, while covered in puke and with a stranger!”

“He’s not a stranger,” said Dorothy. “He’s our friend Adrian, and you’ve said yourself he’s very nice. And the two of you, I’d like to point out, have already been intimate – he’s got a finger inside you, for heaven’s sake – so it’s no good pretending he’s still a stranger. You like him, don’t you?”

“Well, yes…”

“And isn’t it high time you lost your virginity?” Dorothy continued. “To someone who actually cares about you? And he does – he’s demonstrated that already.”

“I do care,” Adrian agreed, “but that’s not the point, is it? Even if I wanted to have sex with Marina, I wouldn’t want it to be under these circumstances, and I’m sure she wouldn’t either. For such a special event, she should be properly romanced! Candlelight dinner, flowers, soft music, a nice clean and comfortable bed – the works!”

“Ohh,” said Marina, wide-eyed. “Yes – exactly! That sounds really nice.”

“And you can absolutely do that – at another time,” said Dorothy. “But it needn’t be on the first occasion you have sex. First times are never that good. They’re uncomfortable, painful, awkward … and no amount of flowers and candlelight is going to fix that. Best to get the first time over with, so you can get past that whole virginity issue and focus on figuring out what makes each of you feel good.”

“That’s very cynical,” Adrian remarked, a little testily. “The fact remains that I don’t want to have sex with your daughter, and I’m sure she doesn’t want to have sex with me.”

“I notice you’ve still got your finger in her, though,” Dorothy observed.

“Because I feel like I owe her an orgasm, at this point!” said Adrian. “The poor girl’s been on the verge of a climax for ages now; it doesn’t seem right to leave her hanging! Besides, she’s had a rough flight so far, thanks to me – I’m keen to make it up to her any way I can.”

“Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” Marina inquired, her feelings a little hurt.

“He does,” Dorothy assured her. “He’s just trying to do the appropriate thing.”

“Well … that’s true,” admitted Adrian, “although I seem to be failing at that…”

“So you do want to have sex with Marina?” Dorothy pressed him.

Adrian shrugged helplessly. “Who wouldn’t?” he said defensively. “She’s sweet, she’s pretty … she’s just too young!”

“Fifteen years is quite an age gap,” Dorothy conceded. “But it’s hardly unheard-of. When I was twenty-four I married a forty-year-old.”

“That’s a little different!” said Adrian, finally pulling his finger out of Marina, and his hand out of her panties. “But out of curiosity, how did that work out for you?”

“We divorced,” said Dorothy candidly. “But not because of the age gap. He just couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Ugh,” said Adrian, wiping his hand on a clean part of Marina’s dress. “I’m sorry, Dorothy. Cheating husbands are the worst. My dad made my mom’s life a misery with his affairs. I swore I’d never be like him.”

Dorothy smiled at her daughter. “You hear that, Marina? You could do far worse than Adrian – he’s kind, decent, had good prospects … and he clearly knows how to use his fingers, which is a skill you shouldn’t overlook. Why not try having sex with him? It won’t commit you to anything, but at least you can make a more informed decision. The same goes for you, Adrian.”

“Good grief?” said Adrian. “The way you keep trying to push us together! I prefer to enter into a relationship with a woman more … organically.”

“Me too!” Marina agreed.

“And I’d love for that to happen with the two of you,” said Dorothy, “except that I only have a small window of time to work with. And the two of you are so cautious! So you need a little push. Marina, if you let this one get away, along with the chance to start a happy new life in a beautiful part of England … I promise you, you’ll regret it.”

To Adrian’s surprise, Marina was looking conflicted. “It’s no good though, Mom,” she grumbled. “Even if he wanted to do it with me, we can’t, for two pretty major reasons. Firstly … how would we even accomplish it?”

“Exactly,” said Adrian. “We’re strapped into our seats, Marina’s panties are full of vomit … there’s no way we could manage it. Even if we wanted to,” he added hastily.

“Secondly,” said Marina, nodding, “we’d get into so much trouble! We might even get arrested! You can’t just have sex on an airplane! Maybe if we could get to a toilet … but we can’t! They won’t let us leave our seats.”

Dorothy smiled. “If I can solve both of those problems,” she said, “will you give it a try?”

“No,” said Adrian shortly, just as Marina said “Maybe…” He stared at her in astonishment. “You … you’re actually considering it?” he gasped.

Marina shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve got to lose my virginity sometime,” she said. “I’ve avoided doing it with boys at school because … well … they talk, don’t they? More than one of my friends had had their reps tank because they did it with a boy who then told all his friends about it. But you seem … safe. And despite the fact that you’ve thrown up all over me, I kind of like you. Your finger’s been doing some really nice things…”

Dorothy laughed. “See?” she said. “Adrian, come on, what do you say? Are you really going to pass up an opportunity to slide your hard cock into this sweet girl’s vagina? C’mon, it must be ready to burst out of your pants by now, right? She needs it from you; she wants it! Won’t you give the poor girl what she needs?”

Adrian’s cock was indeed rock hard at this point, and contorted uncomfortably by his clothing. It yearned to be free … but he was not the type of man to let his hormones rule his decision-making. “I don’t see how you can overcome the obvious obstacles in such an exercise,” he said stubbornly.

“But if I can?” Dorothy pressed him. “To both Marina’s satisfaction and yours?”

Adrian doubted it very much, and since Marina seemed to have become somewhat keen on the idea, he decided to hinge his entire argument on Dorothy failing to make her case. This would serve the dual purpose of getting him out of a highly awkward sexual encounter, while allowing him to boost Marina’s self-esteem. Simply rejecting her seemed like an unnecessarily cruel option, when practical considerations would do the job.

“I would be thrilled and honoured to be Marina’s first time,” he said. “You’re a beautiful girl, Marina, and although I still think you’re too young for me, and I’m too old for you, I can’t deny that my attraction to you is powerful. However, I really don’t think there’s any way around the logistical problems involved with doing it here and now. If you can convince me otherwise, Dorothy, then by all means – though I’m shocked to hear myself say this – I would love to have sex with your daughter.”

“Excellent!” said Dorothy, clapping her hands.

Marina’s cheeks had turned bright red. “Wow,” she said, stunned.

“And only,” Adrian added hastily, “if you yourself, Marina, are happy about the idea. I’m sure you feel no attraction for me, and that’s understandable.”

Marina hung her head. “I wouldn’t say there’s zero attraction,” she said. “All the vomiting doesn’t help, of course. But more importantly, you’re a nice guy … and that goes a long way.”

“It does,” said Dorothy happily. “All right! The first issue is logistics. I think that’s solvable. Marina, you’ll need to get on Adrian’s lap, straddling him. Adrian, I assume you can pull out your cock without too much difficulty? Marina’s panties being full of vomit presents a problem, but I think if you carefully slide them to one side, just enough to allow access to your vagina, you should still be able to keep the mess contained.”

“There’s no way his pants won’t get messy, though,” said Marina sceptically.

“Honestly, that’s the least of my concerns,” said Adrian. “As messy as I’ve gotten you, I could hardly complain if I got a little on myself.”

“Still,” said Dorothy, “let’s keep you as clean as possible. All we need is a cloth between you and Marina…”

“Most airlines have a blanket for every seat,” said Adrian, a little grumpily. “I don’t know why this one doesn’t.”

“They do seem rather ill-equipped, don’t they?” Dorothy agreed. “What about Marina’s dress, though?”

“Uh – covered in vomit?” Marina quickly pointed out.

“Only the front,” said Dorothy. “If you take it off, we can lay it down on Adrian’s lap, messy side up, clean side down.”

“Mom!” said Marina impatiently. “I’m not wearing a bra, remember?”

“I know, honey, but if you’re having sex with Adrian, it’s really no big deal if he sees your boobs, right?” said Dorothy.

“It won’t be just Adrian, though!” said Marina, mortified at the idea. “Those folks across there will see me … as will the people behind them … and anyone walking down the aisle, like flight attendants…”

“Which brings us to the second issue,” said Dorothy. “Getting into trouble. Now, don’t you think the flight attendants have bigger things to worry about than a couple of people discreetly having sex…?”

“That’s arguable,” said Adrian, “but frankly we’re not yet done with the first issue. Marina’s supposed to be strapped in. If she takes off her seatbelt, and the plane bounces again, she could get hurt.”

“You’ll be holding on to her,” said Dorothy. “As tight as you like! Just give her enough room to bounce up and down on your cock. She’ll be safe enough. If the flight attendants can walk up and down with nothing to hold on to except for the backs of the seats they pass, I think Marina will be fine with you holding her in place.”

“Fair enough,” Adrian conceded. “Okay, so let’s say the logistics issue has been solved. That still leaves the issue of getting into trouble. I don’t believe for a minute that the flight attendants are so busy that they would turn a blind eye to a near-naked teenage girl bouncing up and down on a man’s lap.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” said Dorothy. “I’ll warn you if one of them is approaching, and Marina can stop bouncing.”

“Sitting on a man’s lap, then,” said Adrian. “Heck, Marina will get into trouble just for being topless!”

“Possibly,” Dorothy conceded. “But … maybe not. Excuse me!”

Vanessa, on her way to the back of the plane, stopped next to Adrian. “Yes?” she said to Dorothy, staring in astonishment at Marina’s spread thighs and her vomit-soaked and vomit-filled panties. “Goodness!”

“I know it’s not exactly decent,” said Dorothy, “but would it be okay if my daughter takes off her dress? It’s soaked in vomit and kind of burning her skin.”

“Oh, sure!” said Vanessa. She gestured to her own bra and panties. “Look at me! I can hardly complain about a passenger taking off her dress when I’ve had to remove my whole uniform for the same reason.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind…” Adrian began, when the plane lurched again, and his stomach suddenly heaved. “HUUUURRRRGGGHHHH!!” Vomit sprayed from his open mouth, splashing across Vanessa’s chest.

“Oh my God!” shrieked Vanessa.

“I’m so sorry!” Adrian groaned.

“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault,” said Vanessa bitterly. “But my boss will probably now insist that I take off this bra.”

Adrian wiped his mouth. “Can he do that?” he asked in dismay.

“I don’t know,” Vanessa admitted. “I’m not allowed to wear a soiled uniform, that much I know. But at this point I’ll be in good company; several passengers have already taken their messy clothes off, and I’ve seen a couple of topless women. Normally they’d get in a heap of trouble for that, but under the circumstances…”

“I quite understand,” said Dorothy. “Thank you for clearing that up.”

“You’re welcome,” said Vanessa. She took another look at Marina’s panties, shuddered, and then hurried on her way.

“You see?” said Dorothy in delight. “Marina can take off her dress with impunity!”

“So it seems,” Adrian agreed. “But can she sit on my lap? That’s another question entirely.”

“A minor one,” said Dorothy dismissively. “If anyone asks, you can say she’s just scared by the turbulence, and seeking comfort.”

“From a strange man instead of her mother?” Adrian inquired sceptically.

“They don’t know how close the two of you are,” said Dorothy. “We can say you’re a family friend … which I’d say is perfectly true at this point.”

“All right,” Adrian conceded. “Damn … I think you’ve covered everything.”

“So … we’re going to have sex?” asked Marina nervously.

“Yes, honey,” said Dorothy, patting her daughter’s hand.

“Wait,” said Adrian, panicking slightly. “Are you sure, Marina? You don’t have to…”

“I think I want to,” said Marina. “As crazy as this is, I … I want to lose my virginity to you, Adrian.”

“Holy cow,” Adrian muttered.

*

“No, you don’t have to remove your bra,” said Elvis, to Vanessa’s relief. “If you want to, you can – it’s debatable whether a soiled bra is more or less acceptable than no bra at all – but you are required neither to remove it nor to keep it on.”

“Thank you,” said Vanessa, “but why on Earth would I want to take it off if I didn’t have to?”

Elvis shrugged. “I don’t know,” said Elvis. “Maybe you would rather show a clean pair of nice-looking boobs than a vomit-covered bra. Maybe the vomit is irritating your skin. But whatever – the option’s there if you need it. But the panties stay on, whatever happens! We can’t have you showing your pussy to the passengers – that’s definitely crossing a line.”

“Don’t worry!” said Vanessa with a shudder. “Hopefully my panties will stay clean, but even if they don’t, I have absolutely no intention of taking them off!”

Elvis nodded. “Good,” he said.

*

Adrian stared at Marina. Marina stared at Adrian. She was now topless, and straddling his lap, with her dress laid out across his thighs. Her hands were on his shoulders; his were on her hips.

“You’re, um, very pretty,” he told her awkwardly. “Your breasts are lovely.”

“I wish they were as big as Mom’s,” she said, blushing. “But thank you.”

Dorothy was fumbling with Adrian’s zipper. “I can feel something big and hard in there!” she said. “Let’s get it out in the open … there! Ooh, it’s nice and big – you’re a lucky girl, Marina!”

Marina bit her lip. “Is it going to hurt?” she asked nervously.

The nearer of the two middle-aged couples to Adrian’s right were staring at him and Marina. “I say!” said the husband, aged about fifty-five. “Are you two doing what I think you’re doing?” He had a rather posh English accent.

“She’s just a little scared,” said Adrian unconvincingly, as he tried to conceal his erect cock, which Dorothy was now massaging, from the couple’s curious gaze. “She wanted a cuddle.”

“I don’t want to die a virgin,” Marina elaborated, causing Adrian to groan in mortification.

“Oh, I don’t think there’s much chance of that, is there?” said the wife, looking suddenly anxious.

“No!” said Adrian quickly. “We’re all going to be fine.” Dorothy was now pulling Marina’s panties to one side while directing the head of his cock to her vaginal opening. The plane lurched, and Marina sat down hard. Adrian gasped as his cock, lubricated by his own vomit, slid deep inside the teenager on his lap. “Oh my God!” he gasped.

“Ahhh!” said Marina, wincing.

“And there goes your cherry!” said Dorothy excitedly. “Wonderful!”

Adrian’s blood was roaring in his ears. How had this happened? How had Dorothy talked him into it? This was so unlike him – to have sex with a stranger – but he could not deny that it felt amazing. His cock was gripped wonderfully tightly by the moist warmth of Marina’s vagina. Its bulbous head was engorged, bulging and pulsing and pressed up against her cervix. It felt ready to explode. Not yet! he told himself.

“Start bouncing up and down,” Dorothy urged her daughter. “Gently!”

Marina did so. “Warn me before you, um, climax,” she said to Adrian, “so I can get off you in time. I really don’t want to get pregnant!”

“When was your last period, honey?” Dorothy asked.

“It finished about a week ago,” said Marina.

Dorothy practically squealed in excitement.

*

Claire had carefully placed her poo-filled panties on the floor, and was now standing unsteadily in front of her seat, trying to hold on to the back of the seat in front of her with her right hand, while wiping her bottom and pussy with her skirt held in her left hand. It was not easy.

“You really need to hold on to the seat with both hands,” Benny advised her. “You’re likely to get thrown off your feet like that.”

“Then how will I clean myself?” Claire demanded irritably. She was feeling extremely self-conscious.

“Shaun or I can clean you,” Benny offered. “I know, I know – there’s a chance we might get poo on our hands – but I’m willing to take that risk, if it’ll help you get yourself clean more expeditiously.”

“Very generous of you,” Claire replied, a little huffily, “but I’m more concerned about you touching my intimate parts!”

“Through your skirt,” Benny reminded her. “And it’ll be in a good cause – getting you clean. We might even manage to prevent you from getting a yeast infection.”

Claire shuddered. “Even so, I’ll pass, thanks,” she said, before being suddenly thrown off her feet by a sudden double-jolt in which the plane first dropped sharply, then seemed to lurch both upwards and sideways. Claire tripped over Shaun’s knees and fell across his lap, knocking her head on his left armrest.

“Oops!” said Shaun. “Guess I’m glad I was strapped in for that one! Are you okay, Claire?”

“Ugh – yeah I think so,” said Claire, her head swimming.

Benny deftly lifted her feet on to his own lap. “I think that proves,” he said, “that you can’t do this clean-up on your own, Claire. I’m happy to help you, with your permission, and I promise I’ll do a thorough and professional job of it.”

“You should take him up on that offer,” Shaun advised her. “If you try and do it yourself, you might end up with a serious injury.”

“Oh God,” Claire groaned. “All right then – what do you want me to do?”

“Lie on your back,” Benny instructed her, “with your shoulder blades on Shaun’s armrest and your bottom on this one. Then pull your knees up to your chest. Shaun will hold you steady, won’t you Shaun?”

“Absolutely,” Shaun agreed.

Claire used her elbows to manoeuvre herself into the position Benny had described. As she pulled her knees up, she was acutely aware that she was giving Benny a very intimate view of her poo-smeared nether regions, and she groaned in embarrassment.

“There we go,” said Benny, pulling her knees apart and grinning at her messy pussy. He took the skirt from Claire’s hand, and arranged it so that he could hold on to a clean part and maintain a barrier between himself and all the poo. “There’s a fair bit of poo on your seat,” he reported. “I’m going to clean that up first, so that you won’t get all messy again when you sit down.”

“Okay,” said Claire, staring up at the underside of the overhead luggage compartment.

Benny reached beneath the armrest, and carefully gathered together the chunks of poo on Claire’s sea. When he had amassed quite a large lump, he scooped it up into the material of the skirt, and drew it back beneath the armrest. “Okay,” he said, “now I’ll start cleaning your pussy.”

Claire bit her lip, and said nothing. Then she closed her eyes tightly as she felt a warm touch on her pussy, and steeled herself for what was sure to be an unpleasant groping. As long as she got clean, though, she could endure it: anything was better than sitting with her pussy squishing around in someone else’s poo.

But Benny was now in fact pressing against her pussy the entire lump of poo he had collected from her seat. With an expression of fascination tinged with disgust, he used his palm to squish, through her skirt, the whole mass of poo against her clit and labia, causing it to flatten and spread out, up over her pubic bone and down to her vaginal opening and beyond, even as far as her anus.

“Ugh!” Claire groaned. “This doesn’t feel like getting clean!”

“It’s got to get worse before it gets better,” said Benny, now moving his hand around in small, slow circles, so that the squished poo smeared disgustingly all over Claire’s pussy and surrounding areas. He grinned as he watched her face, contorted in disgust and horror … and noted the gasp and the flush of colour in her cheeks as he pressed against her clitoris with the firm upper part of his palm. Encouraged, he focused on that area, pressing more firmly, and rubbing back and forth with a steady rhythm. A soft, involuntary moan escaped from Claire’s lips.

“Dude, gross,” said Shaun, wrinkling his nose at the sight.

Claire was mortified to find herself becoming aroused, and moreover expressing that audibly. “Stop that!” she protested, as Benny continued massaging her clitoris with his poo. “You’re supposed to be cleaning me!”

“And I will,” Benny promised. “But you’ve had an awful experience so far on this flight. If you can get something good out of it too – a bit of harmless pleasure – would that be such a bad thing? And if I can help you achieve that, perhaps it might make up for the fact that I did a poo on you…?” He continued sensuously massaging her clitoris through her skirt and his poo.

“Ugh!” gasped Claire, breathing heavily and getting more and more aroused against her will. “It’s not fair for you to decide that for me! I don’t want to be horny, with poo all over my nether regions!”

“Why not?” asked Benny calmly, while rubbing a little harder.

“Ahhh … because it’s … disgusting!” Claire protested breathlessly.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting all right,” Benny agreed. “And yet you’re clearly enjoying this. Maybe the disgustingness is part of the appeal … ooff!!” He broke off as Claire’s right shoe smacked him in the cheek and temple. This was not, however, an intentional act of rebellion on Claire’s part, but simply the result of a fresh bit of turbulence acting on Claire’s unrestrained feet.

“Sorry!” said Claire quickly. “That wasn’t deliberate!”

“I’m sure,” said Benny, rubbing his cheek. “These clodhoppers of yours are a bit of a health hazard though. I’d better take them off.” He took hold of the shoe that had struck him, and pulled it off her foot.

“Okay…” said Claire dubiously, realising that this would leave her completely naked. But with her naked, poo-smeared pussy already having already been on lewd display for Benny’s viewing pleasure, the loss of her shoes seemed hardly consequential.

Benny had removed his right hand from Claire’s skirt in order to take off her shoes, but it did not matter; her skirt was now plastered to her pussy and in no danger of going anywhere. Having placed both shoes on his lap, Benny once again cupped her messy vulva through her skirt. “Now, where was I…?” He resumed rubbing.

“Please stop!” Claire begged him. “I really don’t want to have an orgasm under these circumstances!”

“That’s a pity,” said Benny, continuing to work his poo into every fold and crevice of her pussy. “An orgasm will make you feel so much better…”

“I don’t care!” said Claire desperately. “I just want to get clean!”

“Hmm,” said Benny. “I’d really like to give you an orgasm though. Will you let me do that, if I remove every trace of poo from your pussy first?”

Claire, who had been beginning to think Benny was going to keep her messy with his poo for the entire flight, jumped at this offer. She knew it meant giving him licence to grope her more, but if that came with a guarantee of cleanliness, it was far better than the alternative. “Okay,” she said. “Get me clean, and then … okay.”

Benny grinned. “Excellent,” he said. He carefully removed the skirt from her pussy, and stared at the damage he had wreaked. “Oh dear,” he said, regarding the large area of lumps and smears and ridges and pancakes of poo covering her pussy, buttocks, pubic area, groin, vagina, and anus. “What a mess! I’ll start by making a pile…”

“Dude, that’s vile,” Shaun complained, tucking his nose into his shirt. “You’re gonna make me hurl.”

“If you’ve managed to keep your dinner down despite all the turbulence,” said Benny, “I’m sure you can put up with this for a bit.” He wiped from the edges of the mess towards the centre, building up a pile about the size of a large orange. “Hmm, where to put this…?” he wondered aloud. “Ah, I know.” He carefully grasped the lump of poo with a fold of Claire’s skirt, picked it up, and deposited it into her left shoe. Then he turned the skirt around, found a clean part, and diligently set about wiping her bottom and pussy until no visible trace remained.

There was plenty of poo now captured within the folds of the skirt now, of course, and Benny began carefully gathering it all together in one place. When he was done, he had managed to press it all into a single, tennis ball-sized lump. This he dropped into Claire’s right shoe. “There!” he said, folding up the skirt with the clean part that he had been holding on the outside. “All done – you’re as clean as I can get you without soap.”

“Thank you,” said Claire, opening her eyes. She began to sit up.

“Oh, don’t go anywhere,” said Benny with a grin. “I’ve still got to give you that orgasm.”

Claire’s heart sank. “Oh,” she said, her stomach cramping. “Right.”

*

“Excuse me!” said a young man, calling out to Vanessa as she passed. “Is it all right if my girlfriend takes off her bra? It’s covered in vomit and her skin is reacting to the stomach acid or something – it’s really uncomfortable for her.”

Vanessa looked at the young woman in the window seat; she was clutching her chest and seemed in pain. “Do you want to take it off?” she inquired.

“Kind of,” the woman admitted. “It stings! But … I’m so embarrassed! Nobody else is going topless!”

“They are, actually,” said Vanessa with a sigh. “My boss even suggested I go topless myself.” She pointed to the vomit on her bra. “Trust me, you won’t get into trouble. This flight … it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen. A lot of people have been taking off their messy clothing, and nobody’s going to judge you for it.”

The woman stood up, as much as her seatbelt would allow, and looked around, attempting to peer at the clothing of her fellow passengers. “I … I don’t see anyone else topless…”

“You can’t see many people from there,” said Vanessa. “Believe me, there are other topless passengers on this flight right now.”

“Female passengers?” asked the woman doubtfully.

“Yes!” said Vanessa, more impatiently than she intended. “Look.” She reached behind her back, unclasped her bra, and took it off. It was actually a relief to so so; she too had been experiencing an unpleasant stinging sensation as the acid in the vomit soaked through her bra. And now she had a perfect excuse to ditch the garment: solidarity with a nervous passenger.

“Wow,” said the young man, staring at Vanessa’s attractive and perky breasts.

His girlfriend dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t be a jerk,” she said. Then she reached back to unclasp her own bra. “Thank you – that helps! Will you be staying like that…?”

“I guess so,” said Vanessa ruefully, before staggering and clutching a nearby seat as the plane bounced again. “I do hope we get out of this rough air soon though!”

“Me too!” said the young woman, looking with a trace of envy at Vanessa’s breasts. Her own were smaller, though nice enough in their own right.

Vanessa returned to the front of the plane, where she dropped off her bra with the rest of her clothing. As she headed back to answer another passenger summons, she passed Elvis, who nodded at her chest. “You changed your mind?”

“I had a passenger,” she explained, “who wanted to take her bra off but was afraid to do so. I told her there were other topless women, but she … took a little convincing.”

Elvis smiled. “Fair enough,” he said. “Lose the shoes; they’re covered in vomit spatters.”

“Ugh, what?” said Vanessa in dismay. “I can wipe them clean…”

“You haven’t, though,” said Elvis. “And they’re likely to pick up more spatters anyway. Come on, surely you’re not afraid of getting a little vomit on your bare feet, after what you’ve been through so far?”

“I guess not,” Vanessa conceded grumpily. “Fine, then, I’ll just spend the rest of the flight in nothing but my panties!”

“Attagirl,” said Elvis.

*

Over the past few minutes, Timothy had been getting bolder. His gentle caress of Rosita’s right breast had escalated into a full-blown massage of both breasts through her dress, as he sat up straight, facing her and staring happily at her vomit-caked cleavage.

Rosita smiled at him. “Would you like to get them out in the open?” she asked him. “I think it’s time you saw what you’ve been playing with.”

“Yes please!” he said eagerly.

“Go ahead,” she encouraged him.

Wide-eyed, Timothy pulled her dress off her shoulders. Then he took hold of the neckline, and slowly pulled it down, gradually exposing her large-cupped white bra. “Wow,” he gasped. “May I ask … what cup size are you?”

“Right now I’m a G,” she said. “At times they’ve been a little bigger than this … and at times a bit smaller. Three kids will do a lot of things to a woman’s body.”

Timothy nodded, and took hold of the tops of her bra cups. “May I…?”

Rosita glanced around. “Go ahead,” she said.

Timothy slowly pulled both cups downwards, ha mouth opening slightly and his eyes widening as Rosita’s bare breasts gradually became exposed. They were so large, and round, and … yes, he could see some stretch marks, but they bothered him not at all. Lugging these beauties around for years had inevitably taken a toll, but he was grateful she had borne that burden rather than getting them surgically reduced, as so many big-chested women seemed to do these days.

And now her nipples came into view – prominent, puffy, perfectly centred in large areolae. “Mamma Mia!” he whispered.

Rosita giggled. “Gotta work on that accent a bit there, Timothy,” she said. “You like?”

“Very much!” he said, before a sudden series of lurches drained the colour from his cheeks. “Oh shi…HUUUUUURRRRRRGGHHHHH!!!” Vomit blasted from his mouth and deluged both breasts. Rosita jumped, startled, but then she calmly took hold of her bra cups as Timothy released them, and held them horizontal as the young man’s vomit drained off her breasts, filling both cups. Then she lifted the cups back into place, covering her breasts again and causing some of the vomit to spill out. With vomit now flowing into her cleavage again, she tugged her dress back up over her shoulders.

“I’m … sorry,” Timothy gasped.

“No need to be, sweet boy,” she assured him. “But now you’ve filled my panties and bra with your stomach contents. I hope there’s no more left, otherwise I don’t know where I’ll put it!” She laughed lightly.

Timothy managed an awkward grin. “You’re the best woman ever, Rosita,” he said. “I know we live on opposite sides of the ocean, but … would you consider, you know … having a … a relationship with me…?”

Rosita chuckled. “I’m far too old for you, Timothy,” she said. “You have your whole life ahead of you. You need a sexy young woman who can discover the world with you.”

“I’m terrible when it comes to women my age,” said a Timothy mournfully. “And none of them can hold a candle to you anyway. Please think about it, Rosita! I may be young, but I’ll put everything into our marri… our relationship. I’ll move to the States. I’ll show you how good a boyfriend I can be. I’ll be loyal, hardworking, I’ll provide for you … I’ll make love to you as often as you want…”

Rosita stared at him. “Silly boy,” she said affectionately. “You’re really thinking about marrying me?”

Timothy blushed. “Yes,” he admitted. “How could I not? You’re … you’re the most extraordinary and wonderful woman I’ve ever met. I feel like we’ve started a relationship already. And … I don’t want it to end…”

Rosita smiled. “You’re cute,” she said. “But I do like you. Listen: on our way back from Italy, we’re stopping for a night in London. If you come to my hotel that night, we can have sex if you like. Maybe it’ll get me out of your system and you can move on. Or maybe – who knows? – maybe we’ll both decide we’d like to try something longer-term.”

“Yes please!” Timothy exclaimed. “Oh wow, yes please! God – I can’t wait!”

“Calm down, loverboy,” said Rosita, chuckling.

*

“I … I’m getting … close again,” Adrian panted.

Marina stopped bouncing. “Already?” she asked, a little disappointed. This was the fourth time she had had to stop and wait for his excitement to abate somewhat. Each episode of bouncing – which she had been enjoying – had been shorter than the last, and the waits had been getting longer. It was a little frustrating.

“I’m sorry,” said Adrian. “It’s just … you feel so good…”

Dorothy laughed. “Maybe you should just continue, honey,” she said, “and let him finish.”

“Not inside me!” said Marina quickly.

“No, of course not,” said Dorothy soothingly. “Although … would that be so terrible? There’s always Plan B…”

“Why subject myself to a high-dosage cocktail of hormones if I don’t have to?” asked Marina peevishly. “Besides, Plan B doesn’t always work.”

“All right,” said her mother placatingly. “But poor Adrian needs his orgasm, and I’m sure he’s getting frustrated…”

“I’m fine!” said Adrian. “This still feels kinda wrong to me, but it feels really good too…”

“Still,” Dorothy continued, “he’ll have to climax at some point. And I’m sure you don’t want to have to finish him off with your mouth…”

“Ugh!” said Marina. “No thank you – he’ll probably taste of puke! Can’t he use his hand?”

“And get arrested for having his cock out in the open?” Dorothy inquired. “No no – I think it’s best if you get him to the brink of orgasm, then pull out just as he ejaculates.”

“That sounds like a recipe for disaster!” Adrian exclaimed. “A split-second too late, and I’ll cum inside her!”

“So give her a countdown,” Dorothy suggested. “She can lift herself off you in a fraction of a second.”

“Still sounds risky,” said Adrian dubiously, “but perhaps I can pad the countdown a little, to be on the safe side.”

“Don’t do that,” said Dorothy. “If she lifts off you too soon, you’ll miss out on your climax entirely.”

“Better that, I’d say,” Adrian remarked, “than accidentally get her pregnant against her will.”

“Thank you!” said Marina. “You really are a decent guy, Adrian.”

“I bet he’d be a great dad, too.”

“Mom, stop!”

“Look, after all this delay,” said Dorothy, “you just gotta have your orgasm, Adrian! You must be dying to cum by now.”

“Yeah,” Adrian admitted. “But I’d rather go unsatisfied than ruin Marina’s life.”

“Nobody’s going to ruin anything,” said Dorothy smoothly. “Just give us a realistic countdown, and Marina can jump off at the appropriate moment. It’ll be fine!”

“All right,” said Marina, who was keen to resume her bouncing. She now did so, causing Adrian to gasp and clutch her hips.

“You know,” said Dorothy, “it occurs to me that you’re having sex, but haven’t even kissed yet! I think you should kiss her, Adrian.”

Marina, her cheeks flushed, looked a little uncertain about this, but as her eyes met Adrian’s, and saw him look back at her in a kindly manner, as if to say, “You don’t have to, you know,” she made up her mind. Leaning in, she pressed her lips against his, temporarily slowing her bouncing almost to a halt.

“Good, good…” said Dorothy excitedly, as she saw their mouths open and their tongues meet for the first time. “Put your hands on her breasts, Adrian!”

Adrian did not respond, until Marina drew back to take a breath. “May I?” he asked. When she nodded, he raised his hands and planted them on her small breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Oh, they’re perfect,” he whispered to her. “Just the right size for my hands. I love them.”

Marina blushed happily, and leant in for another kiss. Then, with her lips still locked to his, she began to raise and lower herself again. As her bouncing slowly intensified, she broke off from the kiss and started moaning with pleasure. Adrian gave her breasts a final squeeze, then returned his hands to her hips. “Oh … yes…” he gasped. “Getting … close…”

Marina closed her eyes, and bounced still harder and faster, biting her lip as her arousal rapidly increased.

“Countdown!” Adrian panted. “Five … four … three … two … one…”

Marina, approaching her own climax and unwilling to stop, waited until the very last second before she stopped bouncing and began to lift herself off Adrian’s rigid cock. But Dorothy reached over, putting one hand on her daughter’s thigh and the other on her shoulder, and pulled her back down. Her vagina sank fully on to Adrian’s cock, which pressed firmly up against her cervix just as his orgasm hit.

“Cum, Adrian!” Dorothy urged him. “Cum inside Marina!”

“Ohhh! Oh God! Ohhh!” Adrian groaned, his semen erupting powerfully and spurting deep into Marina. With the head of his cock lodged in the teenager’s cervical opening, almost all of his sperm was injected directly into her womb.

“Mom!” Marina shrieked, slapping her mother’s hand away from her shoulder. “What have you done?” She was so shocked that she did not even attempt to get off Adrian’s cock now.

“Please don’t hate me!” said Dorothy, looking very guilty and anxious. “I just really wanted him to cum inside you.”

“But why?” asked Marina plaintively. “You know I don’t want to get pregnant!”

Dorothy hung her head. “I just really want the two of you to get married and have a baby,” she said. “I think it would be a wonderful thing.”

Marina groaned in despair. “Mom, I can’t believe you just betrayed me like this…”

“Don’t be too mad at her,” said Adrian quickly. “I … I should take some of the blame. I knew it was wrong – I should never have let it go this far. And I knew that countdown idea was too risky, but I went with it anyway, because … well, perhaps because deep down, on some level, I too wanted to cum inside you…”

Marina stared at him. “Were you hoping to get me pregnant?” she asked.

“No!” he replied. “Not at all. It just … it felt so good … I didn’t want it to stop. I know I should have started the countdown sooner…”

Marina shook her head. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’m sure you were tempted to cum inside me, but you did what you were supposed to. It’s Mom. She just wants to see me knocked up, for some reason. You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“I still do, though,” said Adrian dolefully.

Marina leaned forward and kissed him. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “For what it’s worth, I reality enjoyed it … up until Mom jumped in.”

Adrian smiled at her. Then he turned and frowned at Dorothy. “That wasn’t a nice thing to do,” he said. “But what’s done is done. For better or worse, I seem to have fallen into a relationship with your daughter. If she wants to pursue it further, then it would be my pleasure to invite the two of you to stay with me in Bramley Heath, for as much of your vacation as you want. And if she…” He paused, then turned to Marina. “If you get pregnant as a result of … this … and if you would like to live with me permanently … then I would be very honoured and happy to ask you to be my wife. If not – which would be totally understandable – I’ll nevertheless support the baby financially.”

Dorothy beamed. “That’s wonderful!” she said. “What do you think, Marina?”

“I think you’re an interfering, scheming wench of a mother!” Marina snapped. Then she blushed, and hung her head. “But I … I’d like to think about it. I mean, the permanent thing. I’d really like to see your house in the meantime, Adrian…”

“We’d love to come and stay with you, Adrian!” said Dorothy eagerly. “For the whole two weeks of our vacation, if that’s okay? I’ll call Meg; she’ll understand.” She clapped her hands, as giddy as a schoolgirl. “Oh honey – I’m sure you’re going to get pregnant! If you do decide to stay with Adrian permanently, your baby will grow up in a beautiful place, with wonderful parents … and I’ll be a grandma, finally!”

“Mom!” said Marina in exasperation. “I’m not going to get pregnant! Thanks to you, I’ll have to take a Plan B pill or whatever, but…”

“Oh but honey,” Dorothy interrupted her, “you said yourself, you don’t want to be taking a cocktail of hormones, particularly when it often doesn’t even work…”

“Mom!”

“Just take some time to think about it, okay?” said Dorothy, patting her daughter’s arm. “Keep an open mind. You never know, you might come around to the idea. Plus, shouldn’t Adrian have a say in it? He’ll be the father, after all.”

“The only say I get,” said Adrian grimly, “is that the only person who gets to decide what happens to Marina’s body is Marina.” He took the teenager’s hands in his, and looked her in the eyes. “Whatever you decide,” he said, “you will have my full support. I’m happy to offer you my opinions and advice, if you want them, but once you’ve made your decision, whatever it is, I’ll support you in any way I can. And love you – if that’s what you want from me.”

Marina bit her lip. “Okay then,” she said. “What’s your advice, Adrian? What do you think I should do?”

He smiled at her. “Take a Plan B, go back home to the States with your mother, finish your education without having to look after a baby, and eventually, find a nice young man your age to settle down with.”

Marina nodded slowly. “But is that what you want?”

“I want you to be happy,” he said. “And I think that’s the best way of achieving that.”

“I’m not so sure…” Dorothy began, but Marina shushed her.

“But,” Marina continued, “what do you want for yourself? How does this end, ideally, for Adrian?”

Adrian smiled sheepishly. “I confess I rather like the idea of having a beautiful young wife,” he said. “And raising a baby with her … with you. But I really don’t think that would be best for you.”

Marina said nothing for a few moments, while Dorothy watched her with bated breath. Then she said slowly, “Can Mom and I come and stay with you, then?”

“Absolutely,” said Adrian.

“I … I’ll hold off on the Plan B thing for now,” said Marina. “While I get my thoughts in order. I want to check out your house first, and your town, and see what it’s like to live with you. We can get to know each other better. Then I’ll decide.”

“Good plan!” said Dorothy happily.

“Oh shut up, Mom,” Marina muttered.

*

“Ahhh … ahhhh … ahhhh!” Claire was getting closer and closer to orgasm, and she was not even trying to fight it. She knew that Benny would not be satisfied until his fingers had brought her to a climax. He was, in truth, very good at what he was doing. He had started off slowly, teasing her clitoris with just the gentlest of touches, then gradually escalating the speed and firmness of his touches while varying his technique between making small circles, side-to-side flicking, and up-and-down rubbing.

Then Claire gasped in shock, as without warning he sank two fingers deep into her vagina. “Benny!” she squealed.

“All part of the service!” he said with a grin, as he began thrusting both fingers in and out of her. In doing so, he contrived to rub against her g-spot, which sent a whole new set of pleasurable signals sparking from her loins. Putting all thoughts of propriety and embarrassment out of her mind for the moment, Claire arched her back, spread her thighs wide, and ground her pussy against Benny’s hand. Her orgasm was close.

But the turbulence, it seemed, was determined to spoil her pleasure. After at least three minutes of experiencing nothing but gentle buffeting, Claire suddenly found herself lifted off both of the armrests supporting her, only to be unceremoniously slammed back down upon them. “Ow!” she exclaimed.

“Yikes,” said Benny, whose fingers had been jerked out of Claire’s vagina. “That was a bad one. Are you okay?”

“I’m going to have bruises!” she complained.

“Shaun, you’ll need to hold her down,” said Benny. “Put your hands on her chest.”

“Okay!” said Shaun happily, putting his hands on Claire’s breasts and gently squeezing them.

“Hey!” Claire objected. “Look, Benny, I’m genuinely in pain. This isn’t a comfortable position, and if we get another jolt like that, I could break my spine!”

“Then let’s get you into a better position,” said Benny. “Safety first! I’m sure I can pleasure you while keeping you secure and protected from the whims of the turbulence.”

“I don’t know, Benny,” said Claire doubtfully.

“I’ve got it!” said Benny. “Turn over. Get on your hands and knees. Hands gripping Shaun’s armrest, knees on your own seat, and your lower legs tucked underneath this armrest.” He patted the one between her seat and his. “You’ll be locked in place, and I’ll have perfect access to your pussy and vagina. And your anus! Maybe I’ll slip a finger in there too, as a little extra treat for you.”

“Please don’t!” said Claire uncomfortably.

“No?” said Benny. “All right then. But get in the position anyway – it’ll be best for everyone.”

Claire was not at all sure about this, but despite her pain she was still horny enough to want to reach her orgasm, even if this meant letting Benny finger her again. If she had felt she genuinely had a choice in the matter, she might have decided differently, but since she had promised to let him give her an orgasm, she reasoned, it made sense to comply with his request.

So she turned herself over, tucked her feet beneath her right-hand armrest, and adopted the position he had described. It did in fact feel much more secure than she had been before. Now, however, she could not see what Benny was doing behind her.

And what he was doing, as it happened, was taking out his erect cock. Shaun raised an eyebrow in surprise, and then quickly averted his eyes; Claire remained completely oblivious.

Turning towards Claire, Benny slowly pushed two fingers of his left hand into her vagina, sank them all the way in, and then began thrusting them in and out. The angle was awkward for him, but he did not intend to do this for very long. Closing her eyes, Claire bit her lip, but her breathing started to quicken as her arousal quickly grew again.

To Benny’s consternation, Shaun unzipped his jeans and, after some fumbling, pulled out his own cock. Benny vigorously shook his head, but Shaun just shrugged.

Claire, sending something was afoot, opened her eyes, and gasped at the sight of Shaun’s towering brown cock just inches from her face. “What the…” she began.

“Go on, give it a suck,” Shaun encouraged her.

“What? No! I’m not that kind of girl!” Claire protested.

“Of course you’re not,” Benny said quickly. “But the fact is you’re stark naked and getting your vagina fingered by a total stranger. You may not be this kind of girl normally, but on this flight, due to some strange and extreme circumstances, for the moment you’re playing the part of one. When we land, you can go back to being a good, chaste girl. But for now…”

“I’m not chaste, and I’m not a prude!” said Claire, feeling oddly offended. “I’m just not the kind of girl who jumps into random sexual encounters.”

“My mistake,” said Benny. “Poor choice of words. My point is … take this opportunity to live a little. Suck Shaun’s cock. ‘Pay it forward’, as the saying goes. Get him off while I get you off.”

While he spoke, he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of Claire’s vagina, and her arousal was growing by the second. Feeling hot and horny, she stared at the engorged head of Shaun’s cock. Then, on a sudden impulse, she leaned forward and lowered her open mouth on to it. “Oh yeah!” said Shaun, delighted and amazed that Benny had so easily managed to talk her into it. But whether her horniness was messing with her judgment, or he and Benny had awakened something inside her, or she really was the kind of girl she claimed not to be … he was not about to question it.

In actuality, Claire ordinarily was a very straight-laced sort of person. Currently single, she had been ditched by her last boyfriend, Rupert, for being too ‘unadventurous’ – by which he meant unwilling to flash strangers and suck him off in public places. If only he could see her now! This felt, to a certain extent, like revenge … which was a large part of the reason for her impulsive decision.

Despite her arousal, however, she was feeling unpleasantly dirty as she sucked on Shaun’s erect penis. She tried not to think about it. Once this awful flight was over – as Benny had said – she could go back to being her usual self. In the meantime, his fingers … ugh, they did feel good … really good … better than fingers had a right to feel, actually…

The awful notion that Benny might have replaced his fingers with his cock, once it occurred to her, would not leave her alone. Surely he wouldn’t … would he? I mean, that was rape! Wasn’t it? She had consented to be fingered … but no more than that. Come to think of it, there had been a moment where he fully removed his fingers … not long after she began sucking on Shaun’s cock … only to plunge them – or something – back in a moment later.

She lifted her head off Shaun’s cock, and looked back over her shoulder.

“Surprise!” said Benny, grinning as he thrust his erection in and out of her vagina. He was kneeling on his seat, holding the back of his seat with his left hand for support. His right hand was on her hip.

“You … how dare you!” she gasped.

“Don’t look so shocked!” he said, thrusting happily. “You’re naked, and you were sucking one stranger off while getting fingered by another. You can’t plausibly claim to be outraged by me slipping you some sausage. And you can’t tell me it doesn’t feel good...”
“You scoundrel!” she said indignantly. “You should have at least asked! You’d better have a condom on!”

“Nope!” he replied cheerfully. “But don’t worry – I’m clean as a whistle, I assure you.”

“That’s not the point!” she said. “Well it’s partly the point. But also, I’m not on the pill!”

“Oh!” said Benny. “Well don’t worry, Claire – I’ll be sure to pull out before I climax, and decorate your back with my jizz.”

“Ugh!” she said. “Gross.” At least that was better than him cumming inside her, though – a thought which genuinely terrified her. As a born-and-raised (though somewhat lapsed) Catholic, she was uneasy with the idea of contraception, strongly opposed to morning-after pills, which she called ‘abortion pills’, and of course resolutely against abortion itself. Not that she was militant about it – she hated political arguments – but she knew she would absolutely never get an abortion herself. Or take a morning-after pill.

Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to endure the pounding Benny now gave her. It was actually not that difficult to do. Despite feeling annoyed at Benny, she had to admit two things: first, that he had played her with considerable skill – she would never in a million years have believed, before this flight, that any strange man would be able to manipulate her out of her clothes and into a threesome with another strange man … and on an aeroplane of all places! Secondly, this did feel pretty good. In fact, if Benny kept this pace up, she would be reaching her climax before too long.

Shaun pulled her head back down on to his cock, and she resumed sucking on it. What else was she supposed to do, at this point…?

*

Vanessa Hill was on her hands and knees again, this time wearing nothing but her panties – much to the delight of the teenage boy whose vomit she was mopping up from the floor of the aisle. His mother was less happy. “You shouldn’t be showing your breasts to kids!” she insisted.

“Believe me, I’d rather not be!” replied Vanessa. “But my bra was soaked in vomit – and not even my own!”

“Ugh,” said the woman. “But even so, it’s not right. Fred’s only fourteen!”

“Feel free to complain to the airline when we land,” said Vanessa shortly. “I’m doing the best I can, ma’am, under very trying circumstances.”

“I’m sure you are,” said Fred’s mother grumpily. “I just wish you were more covered-up.”

Vanessa finished the job, using the last of her paper towels. “There,” she said, standing up. “Now please don’t vomit on the aisle floor again, young man. I don’t have any more paper towels.”

“Where am I supposed to throw up, then?” Fred asked, staring at her breasts. “Mom told me to do it in the aisle.”

“I’m not having him throw up on me!” said his mother firmly. “Or on himself, if he can help it. Those pants are brand new!”

“Excuse me!” said a male voice behind her. “Miss!”

“Just … try to hold it down,” said Vanessa, before turning around. “Yes?”

“When are we going to be allowed to use the bathrooms?” demanded a man in his early forties. “My daughter here has done a large and very smelly poo in her panties, and needs to clean up!”

“Dad!” said his mortified daughter, putting her head in her hands. She was in her early twenties, Vanessa guessed.

“I’m sorry,” said Vanessa, “but until the captain says it’s okay, we can’t take the risk of passengers getting injured by the turbulence. We have a great many people in the same predicament, and we’re certainly sympathetic to their desire to get clean, but this is an unprecedented situation, and we’re all trying to do the best we can…”

“HUUUURRGHHHHHAAAAHHH!!!”

Vanessa shrieked as she felt warm liquid splashing over her buttocks, and then running between her legs. She whirled around, the waistband of her panties snapping back into place as she confronted Fred. “What the hell?”

Fred wiped his mouth. “Sorry,” he croaked. “I didn’t know where else to do it.”

“So your solution was to throw up in my panties?” Vanessa demanded incredulously.

“Don’t you dare take them off!” Fred’s mother said warningly.

“I won’t!” Vanessa snapped. “I’m not allowed to anyway. But for heaven’s sake! Now I’m going to get just the worst diaper rash, I just know it! Ugh!” She marched off down the aisle with tears forming in her eyes, while her buttocks slid wetly against each other and her soaked panties sagged slightly under the weight of Fred’s vomit.

Then her feet left the floor, and she came close to cracking her head on the ceiling. “Jeez!” she exclaimed, landing hard and clutching the nearest seat.

“Flight attendants, please take your seats,” came the captain’s voice. She did not need to explain; the turbulence was getting worse.

Vanessa grimaced as she sat down and strapped in. She felt vomit squishing into her pussy, and retched … but fortunately managed to keep her stomach contents down. Other people, she could hear, were not so lucky.

“Great,” she muttered. “More mess to clean up.”

Kirsty Dunbar now arrived and sat down next to her. She had lost her blouse and jacket, but apparently nothing else. She sighed. “What a day…”

“You seem to be doing okay, though,” said Vanessa enviously. “Clean skirt, clean bra, clean shoes … how have you managed it?”

Kirsty glared at her. “I’ve gone through two jackets, two blouses, and one skirt!” she said. “If I get vomit on this skirt, I’m in a heap of trouble! I’m … I’m not wearing anything underneath…”

“Uh-oh!” said Vanessa. “How come? Do you normally go commando on flights…?”

“No!” said Kirsty. “But I … I had the fish…”

“Oh!” said Vanessa. “And you…”

Kirsty nodded. “Filled ‘em up pretty good,” she said. “Ruined them, tossed them. Thought I had a spare pair with me, but no, apparently not…”

“Ugh,” said Vanessa. “Well I’d probably be more sympathetic, but I just had some kid use my panties as a barf bag.”

“Ewww!” said Kirsty, shuddering. “And you’re … sitting in it…?”

“What choice do I have?” Vanessa grumbled. “I don’t have a spare pair to change into, and I can’t go naked. Like it or not, this is my outfit for the rest of the flight.”

“At this rate I’m gonna be naked within the next half-hour,” Kirsty replied. “We’ve definitely got the worst aisle – Mary and Elvis have had it easy.”

Vanessa nodded. “You can’t go naked though – Elvis said we couldn’t. I’m guessing he’ll let you keep your skirt on even if it gets messy.”

“Hopefully!” said Kirsty.

*

“I’m cumming!” groaned Benny, thrusting harder than ever inside Claire. The most recent jolts had caused him to temporarily pop out of Claire, but the bump his forehead had sustained had not deterred him in the slightest.

“Me too!” gasped Shaun, holding Claire’s head tightly against his loins as he pumped semen down her throat. “Oh God…”

Benny shuddered, pulling Claire’s bottom firmly against his hips as he spurted his semen deep inside her. “Oh yeah…” Pressing the tip of his cock against her cervix, he shot his second spurt directly into her womb.

Claire was too busy swallowing semen to realise what had happened, but when she finally lifted her head off Shaun’s softening cock and wiped her mouth, it suddenly occurred to her that Benny had stopped thrusting, and yet was still inside her. She gasped. “Did you cum inside me, Benny??” she demanded.

Benny grinned, and gave her buttocks a squeeze with his hands. “Sure did!” he said happily. “When you said you weren’t on the pill, I just couldn’t resist the opportunity to knock you up.”

“Damn it!” Claire exclaimed. “Benny, I’m trying to start a career right now, not a family!”

“Can’t you do both?” Benny inquired. “What kind of career?”

“I’m an actress!” said Claire. “Or trying to become one. I had a walk-on part in Eastenders last year. I’m trying to get noticed, you know? Being pregnant won’t help!”

“Cool!” said Benny. “Well, I always wanted to be balls-deep in an actress … and now I am!”

“Can you pull out, please?” said Claire plaintively.

“Mmm,” said Benny, sighing with pleasure as his cock gradually softened in the midst of a mixture of his semen and Claire’s own juices. “Sure … but first I have a proposal for you, Claire.”

“What’s that?” Claire inquired suspiciously.

“Well, you’ll no doubt be coming after me for child support,” Benny mused. “And I don’t particularly want to be paying money to a woman who isn’t in my life. So … how about we get married?”

“What??” said Claire in astonishment. “Are you joking?”

“What the…” said Shaun, staring at Benny,

“I’m totally serious,” said Benny. “Look, I may not be the nicest chap in the world, but I have money, and if you get pregnant, I’d actually quite like to try being a dad. I also happen to think you’d make a good wife.”

“You know nothing about me!” Claire exclaimed. “And vice versa!”

“So let’s spend the rest of this flight getting to know each other,” said Benny calmly. “But I think you’ll come to realise it’s in your best interests. You see, I actually like the idea of marrying an actress. And I think I can probably help you with that dream. I’m no great judge of these things, but it seems to me that you’re a pretty girl with a good face for television. And films. I don’t know anyone in the industry, but I do know a lot about networking and making useful connections.”

“Are you crazy, dude?” asked Shaun. “You already banged her! Why the hard sell now?”

Benny chuckled. “Because I really mean it,” he said. “What do you say, Claire?”

“I say I think you’re off your trolley!” said Claire. “And I don’t want to marry you! But … I do want to be an actress, and I don’t want to be a single mum… Look, I’m willing to spend the rest of our flight getting to know each other, but I really doubt I’ll like you enough by the end of it to agree to marry you! I want to marry a man I’m in love with! Also, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to continue this conversation face to face, without your cock inside me!”

Benny was getting hard again. He began to ease himself slowly in and out of her. “But you haven’t yet climaxed,” he said. “Let me show you how I earned the nickname Double Dip at university.” Grasping her hips, he started thrusting a little harder.

Feeling helpless to resist, Claire groaned.

*

Timothy sighed happily as he snuggled against Rosita, gently playing with her breasts through her dress. Then he lifted his head, and looked at her. “Rosita,” he said. “May I … kiss you?”

Rosita smiled. “I was wondering when you would get around to that,” she said. “Of course. Give me a kiss, Timothy.”

Timothy eagerly moved his face in as she closed her eyes. He pressed his lips to hers, and then opened his mouth. To his delight, she opened hers too, and their tongues met, sending a little spark of electricity through his entire body.

The kiss was wonderful, but it lasted barely ten seconds before the plane dropped suddenly again, and Timothy’s stomach convulsed. Vomit rushed up his oesophagus and out of his open mouth, immediately filling Rosita’s. She pulled back in shock, only to get a face full of yellow chunky fluid. The last of the flow hit her neck and upper chest, as Timothy belatedly pulled away in horror. The whole thing had lasted barely a second.

“Oh no, Rosita, I’m so sorry!” groaned Timothyin despair. He was sure he had just ruined everything.

Rosita bent her head, and spat his vomit down into her cleavage. “No need to apologise, sweet boy,” she said kindly, wiping her face with her fingers. Vomit was dripping from her hair, from her eyebrows, from her nose and from her chin. Let me just clean my face, and then we can get back to kissing.”

“Are you sure?” asked Timothy, bewildered. “You’re not … disgusted by me?”

She smiled at him fondly. “Absolutely not,” she said. “If you’re not disgusted by me pooping in my panties, why should I be disgusted by you throwing up in my mouth?”

“What if it it happens again?” asked Timothy nervously.

“So what if it does?” she replied. “Timothy, I really don’t mind you throwing up on me. You can do it wherever you like: on my face, in my hair, in my mouth, on my breasts, in my panties … anywhere.”

Timothy stared at her. “You’re extraordinary,” he said. “I would never have believed that a woman like you could exist. I … I can’t wait to … to make love with you.” He put his hand on her thigh.

Rosita chuckled. “I’m looking forward to it too, sweet boy,” she said.

Timothy grinned happily. Then he slowly slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, underneath her dress, all the way to her panties. “May I?” he asked hopefully.

Rosita spread her thighs apart. “Have fun,” she said. Then she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

Timothy was fascinated to feel the squishy bulge at the front of her panties. He pressed it inwards gently, cupping his hand around it. Then he slowly moved the bulge around, rubbing Rosita’s poo against her pussy. He was rewarded with a little moan of pleasure. “You like that?” he whispered.

“It’s very … dirty,” she replied, with her eyes still closed. “Go on.”

He pressed harder, his fingers sinking into the bulging white material. The poo gave way beneath his touch, until he could feel the firmer softness of Rosita’s skin. Feeling around, he sought out the cleft between her labia, and the little nub of her clitoris.

“Naughty boy…” Rosita gasped, arching her back as he began rubbing it through her panties, and lubed with her poo and his vomit. “Kiss me…”

He kissed her, and this time he did not propel his stomach contents into her mouth, thankfully. His enthusiastic rubbing of her pussy, however, was certainly having an effect.

“Oh my God,” she murmured, breaking off from the kiss. “Who knew it would feel so good to have poop rubbed into my patata? Are you sure you don’t mind doing this? Your hand is going to smell pretty bad…”

“I don’t care,” said Timothy. “A smelly hand is nothing compared with what you’re going through.”

“Che succede? Cos’e questo odore?”

Timothy froze. The old man sitting next to Rosita had suddenly awoken, and seemed agitated.

“Non preoccuparti, Nonnino!” said Rosita, apparently trying to reassure him. The two of them conversed for a few moments in Italian; the old man fortunately did not notice Timothy’s hand up his granddaughter’s dress. Eventually, tucking his nose into his shirt, he closed his eyes, and was asleep again within half a minute.

Timothy and Rosita resumed kissing, and Timothy continued his rubbing of her clitoris. Soon her vomit-caked breasts were heaving and her breaths were turning into gasps and moans. Timothy now played his most opportunistic card.

“Rosita,” he whispered in her ear. “My darling Rosita. I want to have sex with you. Right here, right now.”

“Silly boy!” she panted, squeezing his thigh with her left hand. “How are you possibly going to accomplish that?”

Timothy grinned. “It’ll be easy,” he said eagerly. “Just recline your seat as far as you can, raise your knees up, and I’ll lie on top of you.”

“What about my panties?” she asked breathily. “And all of the poop and barf inside? You will get covered in it…”

“I don’t care,” he told her firmly. “I just want to be inside you, Rosita.”

“Ohhh, sweet, silly Timothy,” she replied with a sigh. “I am so tempted. But do you even have a condom?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Then you will have to pull out before you climax,” she said. “Or you will likely get me pregnant.”

“I can do that!” he said excitedly. “So we can do it?”

“It is a very foolish idea,” she told him, her cheeks flushed with passion. “But I do want you inside me, Timothy. I guess we are both fools. Quickly, before I change my mind, or a flight attendant comes, or my Nonnino wakes up again.”

“Oh wow!” said Timothy, hardly able to contain his glee. As Rosita reclined her seat, he fumbled with the zipper on his jeans.

*

Vanessa got to her feet. “Back into the fray, I guess,” she said with a sigh. “God I can’t wait for this flight to be over.”

“Yeah,” Kirsty agreed. “Prepare to be famous, though. This flight is going to be headline news tomorrow, and your boobs are going to be plastered all over social media.”

Vanessa groaned. “I did spot a couple of men taking photos,” she said. “I asked them not to publish them, but…”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” said Kirsty, smirking slightly. “All right, back to work.”

Vanessa’s first task was to put some luggage back in an overhead bin, which had popped open during the last bit of turbulence. “It landed on my head!” said the aggrieved man who had summoned her. He was cradling the side of his bald cranium. “Damn near gave me a concussion!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said Vanessa calmly, as she lifted the bag back into the compartment. “We’ve never experienced turbulence this bad before.”

The man stared suspiciously at the yellow stain climbing the front of her panties. “Did you … wet yourself??”

“No!” she replied quickly. “One of the other passengers thought it would be a good idea to throw up into my panties.”

“Oh, okay,” said the man, relieved. “With everything else that’s going on, I wondered if people had started peeing themselves too.”

“Not to my knowledge,” said Vanessa. “The fish is making some people poop, and the turbulence is making a lot of people throw up. All over me, mostly,” she added bitterly.

“Yeah, I assumed that was how you lost your clothing,” said the man, smirking a little at her breasts. “I didn’t have the fish, thank Christ, but I’ve thrown up twice already.” He pointed to the floor at his feet, which was swimming in vomit.

“I’m sorry, I can’t clean that up for you,” said Vanessa. “We’re only doing aisles, and…”

“Yes, so I’ve been told,” the man replied, frowning. “But could I maybe have a towel or some tissues to clean it up with myself?”

“We’re out of paper towels,” said Vanessa shortly. “Sorry, I’ve nothing I can give you.”

“Well what kind of shoddy airline is this?” the bald man demanded. “No barf bags, no blankets … and I’ve never encountered this kind of issue with turbulence on American Airlines or United! This is a travesty! It’s the worst airline I’ve ever flown on!”

“Sir, please calm down,” said Vanessa nervously. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was air rage.”

“I’m calm, I’m calm,” said the man irritably. “Don’t go calling security on me. I just feel like I have a legitimate grievance! Everyone here does. You too – unless you’re happy doing your job topless.”

“That’s between me and the airline,” said Vanessa stiffly. “Now if you’ll excuse me…” But at that moment, the plane bounced again, almost throwing her on to the man’s lap. She caught the seat in front of him just in time, then jerked her head back to avoid the door of the overhead compartment, which had just popped open again and dropped down heavily. She grabbed it, stepped forward, and slammed it up into place again, hoping this time it would stay put.

“HUUUUURRRRRGGGGHHHHH!”

Vanessa shrieked in alarm as she felt a cascade of warm lumpy liquid hit her abdomen and pour down over her pussy. Horrified, she looked down to see a bald head bending over the front of her panties, which he was holding open by grasping the waistband between the forefingers and thumbs of both hands.

“What the heck – you can’t do that!” she protested.

The bald man let go of her panties and leaned back, wiping his mouth and grimacing. “Well I wasn’t the first, was I?” he remarked. “If you’re not going to let me clean up the floor at my feet, I refuse to add to the puddle down there.”

“Ugh!” Vanessa exclaimed, turning and marching away from him. The vomit in the front of her panties quickly flowed down and backward along her gusset, joining up with Fred’s vomit in the back. “I have to empty my panties out,” she muttered.

But she was waylaid by a passenger who needed help with her hysterical daughter, and for the next five minutes she had to bring all of her social worker skills to bear in an effort to calm the fourteen-year-old down. Then she had another issue to deal with; and then another; and the vomit in her panties slowly dried out and congealed…

*

Kirsty paused in the aisle, and stared suspiciously at Marina. “Excuse me,” she said. “Why are you on this gentleman’s lap?” The girl was wearing panties – very messy ones, by the look of it – but was otherwise naked. And far too young for the man she was sitting on.

“It’s all right,” said the older woman in the window seat. “This girl’s my daughter, and the gentleman is a family friend whose being very kind and comforting in what I think you’ll agree is a pretty scary time!”

“I was scared,” said the teenager, leaning against the man and hugging him. “Uncle Adrian’s my big teddy bear.”

“Her clothes got covered in barf,” said Dorothy. “Sorry she’s so naked, but the girl refuses to wear a bra!”

Mollified, Kirsty nodded. “All right,” she said, and she continued down the aisle. But just as she was passing Adrian, the plane lurched again, and Adrian’s cheeks puffed out. With Marina leaning against him, he turned his head to avoid throwing up all down her back. Vomit sprayed from his mouth, splattering against Kirsty’s skirt.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed in horror.

“Sorry!” said Adrian. “It was you or Marina. And she’s suffered enough. But I’m sorry about your skirt.”

“Ugh!” Kirsty cried. “Now what am I going to do?” She turned and marched off towards the front of the plane.

Marina sat up, smiling. “We got away with it!” she said.

“We sure did,” replied Adrian with a chuckle.

Marina bit her lip, blushing shyly. “Adrian,” she said, “I can feel that you’re, um, hard again. Would you mind if I … started bouncing again…? I didn’t get to, you know, finish…”

“Oh, by all means!” said Adrian. “It’s unlikely I’ll be able to cum again so soon, but feel free to do whatever makes you feel good. Would you like me to … help? By, uh, rubbing you…?”

Marina giggled. “No, it’s okay,” she said. “I think I can get myself off just by bouncing. But I’ll let you know if I need extra help.” And she raised herself a few inches, then lowered herself back down, fully impaling herself on his erect cock once again. Up, down, up, down, faster and faster…

Dorothy watched her daughter happily. Today could not possibly be going any better…

*

“Are you ready?” Timothy asked, trembling with anticipation.

“Oh I’m ready, honey,” said Rosita with a smile. “The question is, are you?”

“I’ve been a virgin for twenty-one years!” Timothy replied. “I am SO ready!” At Rosita’s suggestion he had removed all of his clothes – even his lime green boxer shorts – so that he didn’t get any poo or vomit on them. With his erection standing out proudly, he lay on top of her, the bare skin of his torso pressing against her vomit-soaked dress.

“Then go ahead,” she said, her hands on his shoulders.

Gingerly pulling Rosita’s poo-filled panties to one side, Timothy pushed the bulbous head of his cock against her vaginal opening. Lubricated with her poo and his vomit, it slid inside with surprising ease. “Oh my gosh!” he gasped. “This feels amazing!”

“I feel bad that your first time is so … messy,” said Rosita. “You deserve better.”

“Oh, no!” said Timothy, shaking his head. “I couldn’t ask for a better first time! I just hope I don’t throw up all over your face again.”

“It’s okay if you do,” she assured him. “Just take your time, and remember to pull out before you cum. I already have three kids; I’m not looking to have a fourth.”

Timothy nodded, and began thrusting. But the pleasure this brought him was so intense that he climaxed immediately, spurting semen all over Rosita’s cervix. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed. “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

“You didn’t…” said Rosita, dismayed.

“I did! I came!” said Timothy wretchedly. “I’m so sorry, Rosita. I let you down.”

Rosita pulled his head against her shoulder. “Never mind, sweet boy,” she said. “I know you didn’t mean to. But I’m afraid it really is very likely I’ll get pregnant. My mom was churning out babies until she was forty-nine, and I’m … well, a lot younger than that.”

“How old?” Timothy asked curiously. “Now that we’ve … you know … I’m hoping it’s okay for me to ask…?”

“I’m thirty-six,” she told him. “Sorry, honey.”

“Don’t be sorry!” he said earnestly. “Thirty-six isn’t old! And it doesn’t remotely put me off wanting to marry you. In fact I hope you do get pregnant! I want to pack up and move to the States and marry you and raise our baby together.”

Rosita sighed. “It’s a nice fantasy,” she said. “But you’re not prepared for the reality. My kids are eight, eleven, and thirteen – you wouldn’t be raising just our baby, but them as well. And you’re too young for all that responsibility.”

“I can handle it,” said Timothy firmly. “I’ll learn. I’ll work hard. I’ll be the best dad I can be, to all four kids. I’ll love you and take care of you and get a good job and support you. I promise, Rosita. I’ll be the man you need me to be.”

Rosita smiled at him. “Sweet boy,” she said. “You don’t know what you’d be taking on…”

“Don’t underestimate me, Rosita!” said Timothy. “Give me a chance to prove myself. I’ll show you I can do it. I know it’ll be difficult, but I assure you I’m up to the challenge. You’re worth the effort.”

She smiled at him fondly. “God knows what my kids will think,” she said. “But I kinda want to keep you in my life. All right, let’s give it a try…”

“Thank you, Rosita!” said Timothy excitedly. “You won’t regret it! I’ll…” Then the plane began lurching again, and he threw up all over her face and hair.

*

Benny shuddered, and gripped Claire’s hips firmly as he came inside her for the second time. “Oh yeah…” he gasped.

“Oh God,” Claire groaned. “I’m getting pregnant, for sure!”

“Then marry me,” said Benny. “Come on, you know it makes sense. You’ll get a dad for your baby, a husband to support you while you work on your acting career – which, as I’ve said, I can help with. Who knows, we might even fall in love. You’re a pretty girl, I’m a rather handsome chap if I do say so myself, and I really think we could be good together. Plus, I’ll be the natural father of your baby. You may not like me much now, because I’ve sort of forced you into this, but once you accept your fate, I think you’ll discover it’s actually the best thing for you. And if you don’t … well, I think you know that your life as a struggling actress and single mother won’t be easy. So why not make it easy? Say you’ll marry me, and you can stop worrying about how you’ll be able to make a living and look after a baby while trying to get acting jobs.”

Claire’s shoulders slumped. What Benny was saying unfortunately made perfect sense. He was definitely an arsehole … but marrying him would give her a path to success, which might well be closed to her otherwise. “All right,” she said glumly. “I’ll marry you, Benny.”

“Holy shit!” said Shaun, hardly able to believe his ears. “You both crazy!”

Benny grinned, and slapped Claire’s right buttock. “Crazy, possibly,” he said. “But also engaged! Congratulate us, Shaun!”

“Uh, congrats?” said Shaun, bemused. “I guess?”

Benny pulled his wilting cock out of Claire. “Now turn over,” he instructed her, “and lie on your back, with your knees up. We have to make sure you do get pregnant.”

“But I don’t want to get pregnant!” said Claire morosely, as she extracted her legs from beneath the armrest.

“But you’ve agreed to marry me,” Benny pointed out. “It would be terrible if, having committed to that in order to save yourself from single motherhood, you then didn’t get pregnant! So be a good fiancée, lie down across the armrests like you were before, when I was cleaning you, and pull your knees up.”

Wondering how Benny had managed to take control over her so effectively, Claire adopted the position he had described. Benny pulled his phone out, and gleefully filmed her as she lay there, thighs spread, with semen oozing out of her vagina.

“Tell me why you’re lying there like that, Claire,” Benny instructed her.

Claire slapped her hand over her pussy. “Hey, why are you filming me?” she asked plaintively.

Benny took hold of her wrist, and pulled her hand away. “We’re engaged!” he said. “We should have a record of this happy event. Years from now, it’ll be fun to rewatch this and remember how we met. Now, for posterity, tell us why you’re lying there like that.”

“I’m trying to get pregnant,” said Claire dolefully.

“And why are you trying to get pregnant?” Benny asked her, grinning.

“Because we’re engaged,” said Claire, “and I don’t want to be engaged if I’m not going to get pregnant, so this is a way of ensuring I’m making the right decision.”

“Good girl,” said Benny, delighted. He reached out with his free hand, and filmed himself pushing semen back into her vagina with his finger. “Now stay like that for the rest of the flight.”

“It’s not very comfortable!” Claire objected. “I can’t stay like this for long.”

“Fair enough,” Benny conceded reluctantly. “I suppose not. But I don’t want my sperm coming out of you for at least the next hour. Can you survive that long?”

“An hour?” said Claire. “In this position? No.”

“All right,” said Benny, disappointed. “I suppose I’ll have to plug you with something.”

“Plug me?” Claire inquired uneasily.

“Plug your vagina,” Benny explained. “Like a cork in a bottle. Or, you know, a plug. In a bath or sink.”

“I know what a plug is!” said Claire. “But what would you use?”

“This day is just getting weirder and weirder,” said Shaun, shaking his head. But he had no objection to Claire’s head resting on his lap, and since her chest was well within reach, he took hold of her left breast and began to massage it gently.

“Hey!” said Claire grumpily. “Stop that, Shaun. I’m engaged now, apparently.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” said Benny cheerfully. “Feel free, Shaun – grope away. I’m not the possessive type.”

“Well what about me?” asked Claire indignantly. “Don’t I get a say?”

“In theory, of course you do,” said Benny. “But your objection to Shaun groping your breast was that you’re engaged. You didn’t invoke your bodily autonomy as an argument, just your relationship with me. Which tells me, and Shaun, that you’re okay with it as long as I am. And I am.”

“Well Jeez!” said Claire, disgruntled. “Just because I invoke one argument doesn’t mean others don’t apply.”

“That’s a fair point,” said Benny, “but your choice of which argument to use does speak to the importance you attach to it, relative to any others. Anyway, let Shaun have his grope. You didn’t know either of us from Adam a couple of hours ago; you had no reason to favour either of us over the other. Yet I’m the one who’s impregnated you and is now engaged to you, while all Shaun got was a blowjob. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to let him have a little fun with your luscious boobs.”

“You’re disturbingly articulate, Benny,” Claire grumbled. “I worry you’ll be able to talk me into anything.”

“Anything more significant than marrying me, or having my baby?” Benny inquired. “I think you’ve left it a little late to worry about that, Claire. But take heart: one day, perhaps soon, and maybe often thereafter, I’m going to be bringing my verbal skills to bear on your behalf. Helping you with your career, advocating for you with doctors, teachers, acting agents – whatever you need. I think you’ll find I can open a lot of doors for you that have been closed to you before.”

Claire found herself feeling quite encouraged by this idea … until she realised he was still manipulating her. “There you go again!” she said. “Smooth-talking your way past my defences!”

Benny held up his hands. “Just because I put it eloquently doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he said. “But you don’t need to take my word for it. I’ll show you that I can be a good fiancé – and a good husband. I promise I’ll help you achieve your dreams.”

Claire smiled grudgingly. “I believe you,” she said. “Even though I probably shouldn’t.”

“Well that’s a start,” said Benny. “Trust takes time, I know. But for now, I need to figure out what to plug you with…. Oh! I know – how about a lump of poo?”

“What?” Claire gasped.

“Oh man,” said Shaun, grimacing. “That’s gross.”

Benny grinned. “Yes, it’s gross, but it’s also perfect. Let me explain why…”

*

“HUUUUUAAAARRRRGGGHHHH….”

Vanessa squealed as she felt warm vomit pour over her buttocks. She whirled around, the waistband of her panties snapping back into place. “For God’s sake!” she exclaimed, only to fall silent as she found herself facing not a pervy middle-aged man or a cheeky teenage boy, but a very attractive woman in her late twenties.

“I’m so sorry!” gasped the woman. “Your panties were already full of vomit … I … I confess I was sort of staring at them … then the turbulence hit, my stomach heaved, and I … I just reacted instinctively. I’m sorry.”

“Well, thank you for your apology,” said Vanessa, rather stiffly. “I do wish you’d found somewhere else … anywhere else … to throw up, but I understand we have a shortage of receptacles…”

“Let me make it up to you,” said the woman. “Maybe by taking you out for coffee, after we land, in London…?”

Vanessa stared at her. “Are you asking me on a date?”

The woman smiled. “We don’t have to call it that, if you’d rather not. And if you have other plans, I totally understand…”

“Just sleep, and a return flight tomorrow,” said Vanessa. “But I should have time for coffee in the morning. How about I give you my number? I don’t have my phone on me…” She gestured at her near-naked body.

“Sure!” said the woman, pulling out her phone. She really was very attractive. “My name’s Erin. Here, you can enter your number yourself.” She handed her phone to Vanessa.

“Okay,” said Vanessa, feeling a little awkward as she typed in her number. She had never been on a date with a woman before. “I’m Vanessa. I guess I’ll be hearing from you soon, then…?”

“Count on it,” said the woman, giving her a wink.

Vanessa had butterflies in her stomach as she hurried back up the aisle, her panties now filled with mushy vomit. Each time somebody threw up in them, the liquid would mostly drain through pretty quickly and run down her legs; what remained were the lumps, chunks, and whatever liquid was too thick to easily pass through the stretchy white fabric. The low pH of this gunk was irritating her skin a little, but she barely noticed that as long as she kept moving and busy.

*

“Ahhhhhhh!!!” Marina let out a final blissful moan as her orgasm passed its peak and began to ebb away. “That was great…”

“Good!” said Adrian, pleased. “I’m glad.” He himself had not yet been able to cum a second time, and he was still rigid and vertical inside her.

Dorothy smiled happily. “You two are so good together!” she remarked. “I can’t wait to plan your wedding!”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” said Adrian. “There’s a lot for Marina and I to discover about each other, and who knows? She might decide she doesn’t like living in England.”

“Not much chance of that,” said Marina breathlessly. “I’ve got friends in England; I’ve always wanted to live there.”

“You’ve got friends in the States too, I’m sure,” said Adrian.

Marina shrugged. “Only one that it’ll be hard to leave behind,” she said. “But she can come visit us, right?”

“Of course,” said Adrian. “If you decide to stay with me…”

“I’ve decided,” said Marina. “I want to marry you and live in England.”

Dorothy squealed in excitement and clapped her hands.

“Just like that?” asked Adrian, bemused. “You don’t want more time to think about it? You can have all the time you want…”

“I don’t want more time,” she said firmly. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it. Make me your wife, Adrian. And keep having sex with me – without a condom. If I don’t get pregnant as a result of this, it doesn’t matter. Just keep having sex with me until I do get pregnant. I want a baby.”

“But you’re so young…” said Adrian uneasily.

She leaned against his torso, and put her arms around him. “That’s okay – I want to be a young mom,” she said.

*

“There,” said Rosita, wiping the last trace of poo from Timothy’s pubic hair with one of the few remaining clean parts of her dress, which she had removed a few minutes ago. “All clean.”

“Thank you Rosita,” said Timothy gratefully. He quickly put his clean boxer shorts back on, hoping to get his seatbelt fastened before the next bit of turbulence hit. “I feel bad that you’re still so messy, though!”

She smiled. “There’s no way I’m getting clean now until I get in the shower,” she said. “But that’s okay – I don’t mind being messy.”

“So it seems!” said Timothy. He sighed happily. “Such an extraordinary woman…”

*

“Tell me again why I’m doing this?” said Claire unhappily as she hesitated, holding between her fingertips a golf ball-sized lump of Benny’s poo.

“I’m not going to say it all over again,” said Benny firmly. “I explained it once, and you agreed. Now push it in.”

Claire grimaced, then slowly pressed the lump of poo against her vaginal opening. She shuddered as she felt her orifice begin to dilate, expanding around the lump as it intruded into her most sacred area. Then the widest part was through, and she shuddered in horror.

“Good!” said Benny. “Push it deep.”

Claire bit her lip, and pressed against the ball of poo with her fingers, pushing it deeper inside her. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said mournfully.

“Now my sperm is trapped inside you,” said Benny with satisfaction. “Soon you’ll be preggers, and in nine months, out will pop our son or daughter! Won’t that be nice?”

Claire said nothing, but silently hoped that some miracle would deliver her from this fate. Unfortunately, even as she was thinking this, in the ampulla of her left Fallopian tube, thousands of Benny’s sperms were gathering around the egg that had emerged from her left ovary three hours ago, and were trying to force their way through its tough gelatinous outer membrane. As Claire carefully wiped her fingers on a clean bit of her skirt, one of those tiny sperms, its tail thrashing powerfully, managed to break through…

*

The turbulence had settled down, and the plane was finally flying smoothly. Marina, still naked but for her panties, and still with Adrian’s cock inside her, was lying against his torso and snoozing with her head on his shoulder. Inside her, Adrian’s sperms were swimming energetically up both of her Fallopian tubes, searching for an ovum that would not emerge for another thirty hours. As soon as that happened, they would be ready.

“Excuse me,” Dorothy whispered. “I need to go to the little girls’ room.”

“Good luck!” said Adrian. “Have you seen the line?”

Dorothy looked down the aisle at the long line of people waiting for one of the toilets to become available. “Ugh!” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to wait then.” She sat back down.

*

“Ugh, look at that line!” Vanessa complained. “I was really hoping I could empty out these panties and try to clean them up a bit once the turbulence stopped.”

“How does it feel?” Elvis inquired. “Is it … stinging?”

“It was,” said Vanessa. “Not so much now that it’s dried out a bit.”

Elvis nodded. “Let the passengers clean up first,” he said. “Unless it’s really bothering you, you might as well resign yourself to spending the rest of the flight like that.”

“But I need to pee, Elvis!” Vanessa protested.

“Elvis, you gotta come sort this out!” exclaimed Kirsty, now completely naked as she emerged from the first class section. “Every single toilet is occupied by someone who’s attempting a full clean-up of their body and clothing. One of them has been in there twenty minutes! Other people need to use them – not just for clean-ups but for peeing and pooping! They can only hold out so long, Elvis! The last thing we want is dozens of people peeing in the seats and aisles because they can’t get into a toilet!”

Elvis nodded. “Okay, let’s start sending everyone back to their seats that doesn’t urgently need to pee. Pooping can wait – and besides, there’s plenty of poop in passengers’ underwear already. I hate to say this, but I don’t think anyone should be allowed to clean up until we reach London.”

“Elvis!” said Vanessa, aghast.

“I’ll get the captain to confirm,” said Elvis, “and then either she or I will make an announcement. Sorry Vanessa, but desperate times call for desperate measures.”

Vanessa groaned.

*

Timothy sighed contentedly as he laid his head on Rosita’s chest and played with her bare breasts. She had temporarily removed her vomit-filled bra, and was now reclining in just her messy panties and shoes. Inside her right Fallopian tube, an egg was on the cusp of being released into a cluster of hyperactive sperms.

Then the captain’s voice emerged from the speakers. “Folks, I apologise, but we’re closing the toilets for all purposes except urination. Clean-ups are taking too long and preventing usage of the toilets for more urgent purposes. Yes, I know a lot of you are desperate to empty out your underwear – myself included – but you’ve endured it this long, and we need you to endure it just a little bit longer please.”

“The captain pooped herself?” Rosita remarked in surprise. “I guess that makes me feel a bit better.”

“I’m sorry you won’t be able to clean up for a while,” said Timothy sympathetically.

Rosita smiled. “You think I’m in a hurry to do so?” she asked.

“No,” Timothy conceded. “Which is sort of amazing. Are you really … enjoying it? Being covered in my puke and sitting in your poo?”

“I’ll let you into a secret, sweet boy,” she replied. “This is not the first time I have pooped in my panties. I haven’t done it in years – having three kids doesn’t allow for much privacy – but yes, I used to do it for fun quite often. I haven’t ever been thrown-up on like this before, but … it’s an interesting experience.”

Timothy smiled. “Sorry, but I’ve no more left in me. And the turbulence has stopped anyway.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a grin. “If you and I stay together, I imagine there will be other flights.”

“Yes!” said Timothy. “Although … I was thinking I should take a motion sickness pill before any future flight…”

“That would be a shame,” said Rosita with a wink. Then she laughed. “I’m kidding. It can’t be pleasant to throw up so much. Of course you should take a pill … although I doubt we’ll ever again experience turbulence this bad.”

Timothy smiled. “I won’t take any pills,” he said. “It would be my pleasure to throw up on you again.”

Rosita kissed his forehead. “Sweet boy,” she said.

*

Benny tweaked Claire’s left nipple. “Wake up,” he said. “We’re landing.”

Claire sat upright, rubbing her eyes. “I need to get dressed!” she said.

“Relax,” said Benny. “You’ll have time once we’re on the ground.”

Claire nodded. “I suppose so,” she said.

*

“Ugh, landings are the worst part,” Adrian muttered.

Marina took his hand. “Don’t worry, Adrian,” she said with a smile. “We’ll be fine!”

He chuckled. “A fine specimen I am,” he said, “when I need to be reassured by a teenage girl.”

“I’m not just any teenage girl though, am I?” she reminded him. “I’m your fiancée.”

He smiled at her. “Are you sure you want to be?” he asked. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

“I know,” she said, patting his hand. “And that’s why I’m sure I won’t.”

*

“I’m going to miss you, Rosita,” Timothy said glumly, as the plane taxied towards a gate. “I wish I had time to buy you an engagement ring.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that kinda thing,” said Rosita, pulling her dress down over her breasts and belly. “We can meet up again briefly after I get back from Italy. After that…” She sighed. “If you truly want to move to the States to live with me, though, you got some work to do, Timothy. I’ll help as much as I can, and you’ll have a home to move to when you come, but the next few months will be very busy for you.”

“I can handle it,” said Timothy confidently. “For you, I’d paddle to America on a raft if I had to.”

Rosita smiled. “I almost think you would,” she said. “Sweet boy. I still don’t think you fully realise what you’re getting into, but I want to believe in you. If you can truly get everything organised and come to New Jersey to live with me … then we can get married if you still want to.”

“Oh yes!” said Timothy excitedly. “Of course I’ll want to!”

Rosita smiled. “You’ve got nine months, I guess,” she said. “Though if you can do it sooner, that would be good.”

*

Claire grimaced as she pulled up her heavily-loaded panties, and the cabin-temperature poo squished against her buttocks and pussy. “Ugh, this is so gross!” she said. She tugged at her smelly, poo-smeared skirt, which when zipped up was tight beneath her armpits and covered her breasts and belly, but not her panties. “I can’t walk through an airport looking like this! I look ridiculous!”

“Yeah, kinda,” Shaun agreed.

“Don’t be mean, Shaun,” Benny admonished him. “Claire, almost nobody’s been able to clean up, and half the passengers are covered in vomit, have filled their undies, or both. You’re not going to be alone in your predicament. Even the flight attendants are naked, or nearly so. Just hold your head up high, ignore the negative comments, and explain to anyone who asks that you were on the flight with all the vomiting and poo. I’m sure word has spread by now. I’ll meet you at baggage claim, and then we can go to my place, and you can clean up and have a nice long bath.”

“Okay,” said Claire morosely. “Can I take the poo out of my vagina?”

“Absolutely,” said Shaun. “We’ll be having sex later, and I want you nice and clean for that.”

Claire shivered as she stood up to retrieve her carry-on bag from the overhead compartment. How had her life so suddenly spun out of control like this…?

*

“Thank you for flying Atlantic,” said Vanessa automatically, as passenger after passenger exited the plane. The vomit in her panties had dried to a gloopy mush, and so far she had not been able to dump out any of it at all.

“Thank you for a wonderful flight!” said one young man with surprising enthusiasm. “Thanks to you, I met the love of my life!” He put his free arm around the short but buxom dark-haired woman next to him, whose low-cut dress looked utterly saturated with vomit.

“All right Timothy,” she chided him gently. “Let’s not upset the flight attendants by holding up traffic.”

“It’s fine,” said Vanessa. “Stories like yours make a difficult day like this worthwhile. I’m very happy the two of you found each other.” Privately she thought that the woman was rather old for the young man, but on the other hand she was otherwise way out of his league, so perhaps it would work out for them both.

“You have beautiful breasts!” said the next young man to walk past her, before getting a slap on the back of his head from a woman who was likely his mother. “Shut it, Raymond!” she berated him. “Don’t be gawkin’ at the young lady!”

Vanessa smiled politely, and thanked them for flying Atlantic.

*

“Are you sure Marina shouldn’t put her dress back on?” asked Adrian nervously as they waited in the long queue for customs.

“It’ll be fine!” Dorothy assured him. “She’s not the only one half-dressed.”

“A little less than half!” Adrian remarked. “I don’t see anyone else wearing nothing but panties and shoes… What if I give you my shirt, Marina?”

“That’s very kind of you, Adrian,” said Marina, but her mother did not give her a chance to accept or reject the offer.

“With the greatest respect, Adrian,” said Dorothy, “I think the world would rather see Marina topless than you.”

“True, but I’m less likely to get into trouble for it,” he replied.

“Relax!” said Dorothy. “Nobody’s getting into trouble.”

“If you say so,” said Adrian doubtfully.

*

“I guess this is goodbye,” said Timothy sadly.

“Yes,” agreed Rosita. “But not for long. We’ll keep in touch, and meet up when Nonnino and I get back from Italy.”

“We’re not in Italy?” asked the old man, puzzled.

“No, this is London,” Rosita explained patiently. “We have another plane to catch. But first I need to clean up.”

“Yes – you’re a mess!” said her grandfather. “And you smell terrible!”

Rosita chuckled. “I do,” she conceded. “Bye, Timothy.” She put her hand on his shoulder, and kissed him on the lips.

Her grandfather looked on in surprise. “Who’s this?” he asked.

“Timothy,” said Rosita. “He sat next to us on the flight. We’ve become very close.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, sir,” said Timothy.

The old man nodded, then he turned and began wandering away.

Rosita smiled at Timothy, then she turned and hurried after her grandfather.

“I love you, Rosita!” Timothy blurted out.

Rosita stopped, turned, and blew him a kiss. Then she continued on her way, until she was out of sight.

Timothy sighed, and picked up his bag.

*

“Well, that flight was something else, wasn’t it?” said Erin, smiling at Vanessa across the table.

“You can say that again,” said Vanessa fervently. “Sorry about my clothes; I got them as clean as I could.”

“Oh hush,” said Erin. “You look great – though not as great as you did in just your panties.” She winked.

Vanessa blushed. “I’m not…” she began. “I mean … I’m generally into guys…”

“Yet you agreed to a date,” said Erin, regarding her with a shrewd smile. “So you must be at least curious…”

“I guess so,” Vanessa admitted. “But I’d never have agreed to it if you weren’t … so damn beautiful.”

Erin giggled. “So are you,” she said. “We’d make a spectacular couple, don’t you think?”

“I’m not sure how it would work, though,” said Vanessa, reeling a little from having her compliment returned so casually. “I live in New York, and…”

“What a nice coincidence!” said Erin. “So do I. I was going to try to convince you not to rule out a long-distance relationship until one of us can move closer to the other … if it works out, you understand … but perhaps that won’t be necessary! Where in the city?”

“Staten Island,” said Vanessa. “Westerleigh, about half a mile east of 440.”

“Oh, okay!” said Erin, nodding. “I’m a Bronx girl myself – but only for the past three years. Before that I lived in Pittsburgh.”

“What brought you to the Big Apple?” Vanessa asked.

“Work,” said Erin. “Modelling, specifically.” She smiled.

Vanessa chuckled. “Of course,” she said. “Why the Bronx, though…?”

Erin shrugged. “Close to Manhattan, but cheaper,” she said. “So … you think we could meet up? When you next have some time back home…?”

“I’d like that,” said Vanessa.

*

“Well, this is it,” said Benny.

“It’s nice,” Claire conceded, looking around his flat. “Looks expensive.”

“I do all right,” said Benny.

“Can I get clean now, please?” said Claire plaintively, half-expecting him to come up with some other excuse for keeping her messy. The journey across London – particularly the part on the Tube – had been torture, with her feet squishing around in the poo in her shoes, and her poo-filled panties on display to everyone.

“Of course,” said Benny. “That’s why we’re here. Get clean, have a hot bath, and I’ll wash your clothes in the meantime. Then we can go and meet your parents.”

“Okay,” said Claire nervously. She liked the sound of having a bath, and clean clothes to put on afterwards, but she was anxious about taking Benny to meet her parents. It would make their engagement official, and real, and part of her was still hoping to wake up from the nightmare.

Then she caught movement in the corner of her eye, and gasped as she turned to see another man enter the living room. “What the…” said the man, surprised. He was younger than Benny, but there was a certain resemblance…

“Hi Sam!” said Benny cheerfully. “Claire, this is my brother Sam. Sam, this is Claire. She’s my fiancée! We just met and got engaged on the plane, after I did a poo on her and it ended up in her panties.”

“Whoa!” said Sam, astonished. “Engaged??”

“Sorry about the smell,” Benny apologised, “but she’s about to have a bath, and I’ll throw her clothes in the washing machine – once she’s scraped the poo out of them! She cleans up very well, I assure you. What do you think? Pretty girl, eh?”

“She’s … lovely!” said Sam, holding his nose.

Benny grinned. “You’ll be getting to know Sam very well,” he said. “He’s my flatmate! And we share … everything. Don’t we, Sam?” He winked at his brother.

Claire gulped.

*

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” said Dorothy, staring out of the window. “Isn’t it, Marina?”

“Yes,” Marina agreed, looking out at the thatched cottages, stone walls, hedges of box and yew, and well-tended gardens of Bramley Heath. “Looks like a very nice place to live.” She spotted an elderly couple out for a walk. “Does anyone my age live here, though…?”

“Oh yes,” said Adrian. “There are plenty of young families here. There’s even a school. But if you’re worried that it won’t have the kind of social experience you’d find in a bigger town or city, you’re right. I can’t promise you won’t get lonely for company your own age. But I’ll try to help you with that, any way I can…”

“Don’t worry, Adrian,” said Marina. “I’ll be fine. I’ll cope. I’ll have all my social media, and honestly I’m gonna be glad to get away from my old social circle. I like the idea of starting fresh in a new place.”

“Well, that’s encouraging,” said Adrian, “but I’m not sure you’re entirely ready for the culture shock that will inevitably come with a move to England. Anyway, this is my house…” He pulled into the driveway of his cottage.

“This is yours?” Dorothy squealed.

“Ohhhh!” said Marina, wide-eyed.

“It’s small,” Adrian apologised, “but I kinda love it.”

“It’s beautiful!” said Dorothy.

“I think I’m gonna like it here,” Marina murmured.


THE END

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