NWMD!: Marnie Homeward Bound

Prologue: "NWMD!" identifies this as a part of the "Not With My Daughter!" series of adventures befalling Marnie, her friends and family. Each stand-alone part derives from the initial story where a man named Larcher under the threat of unleashing his son on Marnie's daughter, Brenda, blackmails and humiliates Marnie. This is a part that would pass the age submission guideline. If you want to read these in the order that I wrote them, feel free to contact me or visit my site. Others to follow. Please enjoy.

*****

"Well Marnie, are you glad we came?" Barbara asked her friend, as they rode on the boat back to the mainland.

"It was definitely one of the most memorable weeks of my life. How about you?"

"I can’t believe we did it. I can’t believe what I did there. And, I sure don’t want my family to know anything about it. We have to get a story together."

"Don’t worry Barb, I’ll back you all the way. Now, what we are really going to have to figure out, is how we are going to get satisfied when the horns kick in again. I know it can be a problem. I hope George is going to be up to the task for you."

"Oh Marnie, that’s right. How can it ever be as good as it was back on that island?"

"No, it won’t be as good, most likely. The haunting question is, ‘will it be enough?’"

*****

"This time I’m sleeping." Marnie said to Barbara convincingly, as they settled into their seats, a few rows back from where they started out on this trek. "So what did you book us on this time?" She asked Barbara. "I’d like to know what I’m getting into in advance on this one."

"All these youngsters are college students. They are returning from a trip around Europe visiting art institutes and museums, someone told me. I don’t think we’ll have much to worry about with serious art students, do you?" Barbara advised.

"I suppose not. I’m starting right off asleep. Wake me when we land in the good old U.S. of A." Marnie said, closing her eyes.

Barbara watched as the seats around them filled with boisterous college boys, who didn’t seem like they would respect the ladies’ wishes to sleep their way across the Atlantic. As they got under way, she sat fretfully in her seat, closing her eyes, then opening them, and wishing against hope that she would fall asleep soon. The young blond surfer looking dude next to her kept looking her over each time she opened her eyes. Eventually, he asked, "Is everything okay? I mean are you comfortable and all?"

"Yes, thank you. I’m just having some trouble getting to sleep." She replied.

Marnie was hooked on the conversation, although she was unwilling to open her eyes. "My name is Mike. We are just returning from a tour of Europe. How about you guys?"

"My name is Barbara. I heard something about your trip, to museums and art institutes? Sounds like you picked an exceptional school and have generous parents to be able to do such a thing. Was it nice?"

"Nice? Well, it was a gas. The art chicks are a lot freer than the science majors." Mike said.

"Why do I get the idea that you are not particularly into art?"

Mike leaned in to tell Barbara confidentially, "I’m not. My buddies and I take the art stuff because it is a slide on ice. In class we just view slides in the dark. Getting on this trip was a coup for my fraternity buddies and me. Can you believe we get credit for this stuff?"

"So I take it, you boys don’t really remember much of your trip of an academic nature." Barbara challenged.

"Sure we do, I remember Reubens, Titian, Manet, and Botticelli. Although plump, the babes were hot."

"Oh, I see. You don’t remember anything else, like Monet, Van Gogh, Rembrandt, or Picasso?"

"Vaguely. So where did you two ladies spend your time?" Mike asked.

"We were on a Club Mediterranean tour."

"One of those adult fantasy tours?" Mike asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, I guess . . . You’ve heard of the outfit?"

"Oh my god. Hey guys,” Mike was saying, getting the attention of the guys to his sides, in front, and behind him, "these ladies went to The Island."

Now Marnie disclosed the fact that she wasn’t able to sleep yet, as she opened her eyes to a myriad of young men staring back at the two of them from all angles. "Oh hi. I’m Mike. So Barbara, tell us about it, please. Everything."

"Oh it would be such a long story, and I’m kinda tired, Boys."

"You said you were having trouble getting to sleep. I’ll get you a drink. That will relax you so you can get ready to sleep,” Mike said pushing the orange light, "and you can tell us all about it, as you get tired enough to sleep."

"Marnie? A little help here?" Barbara asserted.

"Say boys. Why don’t you tell us about your trip first." Marnie offered.

"Okay, only if you two drink with us. It is going to be a long trip and we can all sleep it off before we land."

Marnie smiled with her hands clasped palms down in her lap awaiting her first round. For the next hour, the boys engaged the two in stories and drinking games. Barbara and Marnie felt uncharacteristically comfortable with these playful flying companions. It might have taken them back to their youth in college, where they had less commitments and responsibilities. Whatever the reason, they both enjoyed the youthfully exuberant attention from these young studs.

The noise and commotion from the front of the cabin attracted others from the back. The peer pressure to remain huddled in with the partiers required that you get caught up with the drinking, so only the serious partiers remained crammed in to be part of the goings on.

When Marnie and Barbara were pretty lose, they began to talk about their trip enthusiastically adding editorial and clarifying comments to what the other one was telling. At one point, the boys convinced them, as well as a couple of other girls, that they should show them how they dressed there. In the confusion of the drinking games, Marnie and Barbara’s blouses had already been unbuttoned all the way down anyway. The two seats to their left and the two to the right had become vacated by Mike and the other boys, and now replaced with four girls who were ready to party as far as this crowd was willing to go.

There was a spring break atmosphere happening. Here was a row of six females in nothing but their bras, panties and a drink in hand, giggling, and playfully shoving and touching. Marnie and Barbara were being transported to another time and place by the energy. Marnie’s dizzy reverie was momentarily stopped by the boy directly in front of her, who took his index finger up under the center of her bra and said, "Wouldn’t you be more comfortable without this on?"

Then she was pushed forward by two hands on her shoulders. She drunkenly drooped her body down in front, with her head approaching her knees, just long enough for some hands to unhook her bra in the back. She came back up, but as she did her seat was being lowered back. This falling feeling caused her to raise the back of her right hand to her forehead and her other hand in the air, which in turn brought her loose bra up off of her full breasts. With one more swoop of the boy right behind her, it was gone altogether. Marnie sat back in her chair holding the wrists of the young girl to her left and Barbara on her right, as she weathered the dizzying sensation in her head. She hadn’t felt this unbalanced since testing her limits by intentionally spinning around and around as a kid.

The boys were convincing the other girls to let them remove their bras as well. Barbara was resisting until she was the last one, and saw how peaceful Marnie looked with her eyes closed in the reclined seat. Barbara took her arms down from her chest and let the drooling lads do the honors of gently removing her foundation garment. Now all of the women were topless, eyes closed, and in varying states of reverie.

Boys fought for turns in the row behind at feeling the breasts of the woman seated before them. They worked it out that they would move down the row of women one by one feeling, testing, and evaluating the best feel. Marnie and Barbara started to get really turned on by the sensations these boys were creating. They, along with the others, started to sit with their hands tucked in between their legs, pushing their breasts out to the touches, trying to sneak some necessary stimulation to boot. Occasionally, when someone was too rough, one of their hands would come up touch or grab the wrist of the groper. It wasn’t long before the women were wantonly squirming and audibly moaning.

Some flight attendants appeared, but since this was a charter flight, and they were assured no one was getting hurt, they let the festivities continue, returning to their chatting and bartending in the back.

Now the boys turned this into a contest. They stopped the switching behind the women and six of them took up the task of trying to stimulate the woman in front of him to cum before the others. There was cheering the women by name, rhythmic clapping in unison, and calling out techniques like, "just the nipples," "squeeze’m," "jiggle’em," and "everything but the nipples."

Marnie didn’t need much encouragement. She needed to cum badly. She and the others started to openly stroke her nether regions in reckless abandon. The young filly to her left must have gotten a hit of energy off of Marnie, because she came first in a flurry of flailing legs. Then Marnie got a hit off of that and came in second in a body shuddering orgasm. As she was basking in it, she tuned in to the competition around her and watched as two others got off to cheers and accolades. Now she grew concerned for Barbara. Barbara was just squeezing her hands between her legs still and trying to come from just her breasts being stimulated. Without thinking, Marnie put her hand between her friend’s legs and started to stroke her so she wouldn’t come in last. Marnie, the competitor, took over and tuned in to Barbara’s responses to the point that she helped her cross the bridge into nirvana by a cunt hair, just before the last girl on the far right did.

Barbara was too lost in her own release to ponder what just happened at the hand of her friend. Marnie, however, started to feel weird and embarrassed by the happenings and her impulsive act. In the cheering, laughing and jostling, she piped up, "Now you boys have had your fun. How about if the shoe is put on the other foot." She said, distracting herself from thoughts that would haunt her from the moment just before.

"Like what do you have in mind?" Mike said coming down from laughing.

"Like you boys should line up with your pants down and we get to feel You up." Marnie said with drunken resolution.

Mike cleared the front row at the bulkhead and directed five boys besides himself to sit in the seats with their pants down to their knees. "Okay ladies, batters up."

The women now rallied behind Marnie who started to feel the equipment of each boy in turn. She thought she was entering heaven as she went from one set of cock and balls to the next. The others followed her, including Barbara, who by now had learned to follow suit so as not to stand out. The women rotated down the line as the boys had done. Even some women that were not part of the original six got into the act. One of them said, "We should be testing them for size and stuff, like they did to us."

Mike said, "The only way I know to test us for size and Stuff, is to sit on it."

The women huddled, looking back at the row of stiff pricks with smiles on their faces. Then one of them pulled her panties down to her knees and backed down onto the first stud with obviously pleasurable results. Then each of them got in line and took a slide or two on each one of the boys as they rotated down the line.

"Aren’t you gals gonna make this a contest, like we did?" Mike challenged. "Somebody get some music going. You each can work one of us until the music stops. Then you switch. When one of us comes, we are removed. Then when the music starts again, and someone is without a pole to ride, they’re eliminated too. Viola. You’ll eventually have a winner."

It sounded logical, reasonable, and doable, so the game began. The women unanimously shut their eyes, to be able to focus on nothing but the sensation the pole, they were squatting on, was creating at their core. The music would stop and they would reluctantly wait to slide down another pole stuffing them as they squatted up and down. The cheers went up again, a rhythm was created for them by the clapping in unison, and they began to sweat from the physical exertion this game was now requiring. One by one a lad would push his mare off of his pole so he could shoot off to the cheers of the onlookers. One by one the women got eliminated when the music started again, and they couldn’t snare a new pole to sit upon.

Marnie and Barbara were more determined than the younger girls it would appear. They were the only two left. When Marnie’s stud pushed her off and shot off on her rear, she knew that she would be fighting her best friend for the last pole position. Then she thought "how embarrassing is this, the humiliation of doing this last boy with everybody looking on. Oh, I can’t do it. I’ll just let Barbara beat me to the pole." Marnie thought.

Marnie and Barbara were waiting facing each other with their hands on each other’s forearms for the music to start again. When it started, neither of them moved. They both must have been thinking the same thing. Marnie started to move Barbara in the direction of the horny lad waiting for whomever it would be to finish him off. Barbara then did the same. When it was clear to Marnie that Barbara really didn’t want to do it, she thought to herself, "I don’t care. I’m really horny; I’ve got to cum. I’m not going to let this lad leave my horns unclipped."

Then Marnie looked Barbara in the eyes one last time to be sure, and returned to the seat of honor on the horny lad’s pole. She worked it at her own tempo, one hand rubbing her clitoris, the other her breasts, oblivious to the rest of the spectators present. The music stopped, just for fun, it had no further bearing for the game, but Marnie kept on going as if she and this lad’s pole were the only things on the plane. The lad was obviously about to cum as he started to place his hands on her rear. Marnie pinched off the base of his cock with her left hand, as she continued to bring herself closer to the brink with her right. The lad moaned in some discomfort at the interrupted flow, but was too weak and far-gone to insist that Marnie get up. Finally, something burgeoned inside Marnie. It was like a mushroom cloud shooting up and expanding in her brain. She let out a scream and pushed down hard on the boy’s lap. The boy was slapping the side of her cheeks to get her to get up. "Oh my god lady. I can’t stop it." He declared and he let go his juice up into her contracting womb.

The boys whistled and cheered and the girls looked on envious and frustrated for having their own release cut short by their eliminations. Marnie’s gutsy, take-charge display had a sobering effect in the end on the frivolity, and the impromptu party began to wind down. The rowdy comments started to wane, as people collected their clothes, redressed, and retook their assigned seats.

Barbara sat kind of sidesaddle looking at Marnie. Marnie avoided eye contact with her, by looking at her nails that she was fiddling anxiously with, hands resting in her lap. "Marnie?" Barbara asked.

"Yes?" Marnie answered, still looking down.

"Thank you for caring about me and looking after my well-being." Barbara said with an appreciative smile.

"Sure thing." Marnie got out, managing to avoid tears, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and they finally got that intended sleep all the way back, despite events going on around them.