David Atkins is trapped at the airport when his flight is grounded due to fog. He thinks he has found the perfect solution to his problems, but forgets that strange things can happen when it is Halloween on Witch Mountain.
WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories. If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.
All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
All characters involved in sexual activity in this story are over the age of 18. If you are under the age of 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2021 by The Technician.
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David Atkins stirred in his sleep and lazily almost opened his eyes. The steady thrum of the aircraft engines was such a lulling sound. Then it hit him. Jet engines don’t thrum, they purr. He came fully awake with a start and looked frantically around. If his seat belt hadn’t been holding him tightly in the seat, he would probably have jumped to his feet. He stared out the window at the silver wing and the two rapidly spinning propellers. The wing was straight and shaped differently from what he normally saw. It looked more like something from an old movie.
“Am I still dreaming?” he asked himself aloud. Then he closed his eyes and tried to remember. His flight had been cancelled. ALL flights had been cancelled or delayed. The airport was totally fogged in. One plane, too low on fuel to continue on to a fourth alternate, had been forced to land, but visibility on the ground was so bad that a ground support truck had to go out to the end of the runway and guide them to the terminal. A couple of small private planes had taken off. Evidently they could see well enough to find the end of the runway and could rely on their instruments to keep them on the right path up through the fog. But the few big planes already at the airport would not risk taking off through the fog. David was stuck at the airport.
David’s flight wasn’t technically cancelled. It was delayed. He could see his plane through the windows of the boarding lounge. It was right there. If the small planes could take off, why couldn’t the big jets with their much fancier electronics do it? Emboldened by several trips to the bar, he loudly asked that question of the harried agent staffing the boarding desk.
A pleasant sounding voice from behind him said, “Because there is no pilot alive who is willing to take off over Witch Mountain in the fog on Halloween.”
Dave turned to face what was obviously one of the plane’s pilots. Her copilot stood alongside her. They turned and faced the crowd. “Since it is my...” She paused and pointed to her copilot... “... our decision not to take off, I feel I owe you an explanation.” She pointed out the window. “That is Witch Mountain out there, and with the terrain around us, there is no way we can take off from this airport without going over Witch Mountain.”
The smile suddenly left her face. “There have been four major crashes out of this airport since it was built during World War Two. All were in the fog. All were into Witch Mountain. And ALL were on Halloween.” She once again smiled. “I’m not superstitious by nature. The circumstances of these crashes are probably all just a coincidence, but I’m not willing to bet your lives on that. We will take off when the fog clears. ... Or, if it is still foggy in the morning, we will take off then. But I am not flying a planeload of people over Witch Mountain in the fog on Halloween night.”
That’s when the young woman– a rich, spoiled young woman by the looks of her– spoke up loudly. “Then I’ll go find someone who has the balls to fly,” she said loudly as she stormed out of the packed boarding area. David lifted his glass– actually paper cup– to her as she stomped away.
She was back a few moments later with a crowd of other young ladies. “I found a charter,” she said loudly, “but we can’t leave unless we have at least a dozen passengers. We just need one more. Is anyone willing to join us.”
David didn’t wait for anyone else to respond. He bolted upright and said, “Count me in.” A tall, beautiful blonde also stood up and said, “Of course I’m coming.” The gaggle of young ladies found that very funny for some reason.
In a way, David had no choice. If he wasn’t at work tomorrow morning, he could kiss his job goodbye. Working for Druthers Industries wasn’t the best job in the world, but it paid very well and it would be a good line on his resume when he moved on in a couple of years.
So he followed the group of young women down an older, dimly-lit hallway toward an equally dimly-lit old airplane gate. Obviously charter planes didn’t get the same modern facilities as the major airlines.
Including David and the tall blonde and a petite Asian-looking stewardess, there were fourteen of them. David was the only male, but he didn’t really think about that as he walked out onto the tarmac toward what looked like an older commuter airplane. The only thing he could think of was that he was finally getting a flight home. As they approached, a ramp lowered from the tail with steps up into the plane.
He must have fallen asleep as soon as the plane began to taxi because he didn’t remember taking off. In fact, he didn’t remember actually boarding the plane. The next thing in his memory was hearing the engines and looking out the window.
He shook his head as he tried to acclimate himself to his surroundings. He couldn’t remember how he got a prime seat in the first row, but that was obviously where he was. There was nothing in front of him but the partition and door separating the cockpit from the rest of the plane.
He could hear voices behind him. They seemed to be chanting something, but it was garbled and unclear. He twisted his shoulders and neck around the back of the seat so he could see what was going on and gasped loudly. He would have jumped to his feet if his seatbelt was not holding him firmly in place.
There were no seats next to him and no rows of seats behind him. Everything had been cleared out and thirteen naked women were dancing slowly around what appeared to be a narrow stone altar. David could now understand their chant, “Source of life, bring us life. Source of life, set us free.” They were repeating it in time to their dance. The words and the dance were growing faster and faster. The naked women twisted back and forth as they danced sideways around their circle, always chanting, “Source of life, bring us life. Source of life, set us free.”
David struggled with his seatbelt, trying to release it so he could stand up but the latch seemed to be jammed. “Please don’t struggle,” a pleasant voice said. “We will not harm you. The others were a mistake.”
“What others?” David said nervously as he looked up at the tall blonde. Since she was naked, David could tell that she was a natural blonde.
“The other planes,” she said calmly. “We were alone and confused and we tried to draw life from them as they flew over us on our power night.” She suddenly looked very sad, “We caused their planes to crash and destroyed their lives. We did not mean to do that.”
The stewardess and the drunk rich girl now stood next to him. The stewardess began to explain, “So we decided to go back..”
“... or forward,” the rich girl said.
“Time is so confusing when you are no longer a part of it,” the tall blonde added.
“Well, I’m confused,” David said rather forcefully.
“Don’t be,” the tall blonde said firmly. “You are here because we need to draw life from you.”
David thrashed wildly in his seat. The blonde put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder and said almost sweetly, “But you will survive.”
“And you will enjoy it,” the rich girl said, almost giggling. She then reached down and unbuckled his seat belt.
Several sets of hands were now pulling him up out of his seat. More hands joined them as they quickly stripped him of his clothing. Even more hands joined in as they lifted him up above their head and carried him the short distance to the stone altar. He could clearly see the rivets in the ceiling which held the plane together as they moved down the aisle.
“That night we just wanted to dance above the glen of our ancient sisters and gain power from them,” the stewardess said, almost flatly as he was lowered onto the altar.
“But when we got sky clad for our dance,” the tall blond said sadly, “it distracted the pilots. They were watching us rather than carefully watching what they were supposed to be doing as we circled the mountain.”
“So we crashed,” the rich girl said with a sigh. “Now, we are trapped on our ancient sisters’ mountain. And unlike them, we do not have the power to leave, except for a few hours on this night.”
“How is killing me going to help you leave Witch Mountain?” David said angrily as they stretched his hands straight above his head and tied them in place.
“Oh,” the tall blonde said, “you misunderstand. We aren’t going to kill you. We are going to draw life from you, all thirteen of us. With that life our coven will have the power to live in the ether and move freely wherever we wish to go.”
David could feel his feet also being tied in place, slightly spread, at the corners of the altar.
Thirteen pairs of soft hands now caressed his body. Despite his fear, David soon felt himself responding– especially when two mouths began kissing and suckling at his nipples.
“I will be first,” the tall blonde said, “I am the High Priestess of our coven. I will be first... and I will be last.”
She then climbed up onto the altar and straddled David. Her hands were flat on his chest right over his heart. Her knees were alongside him almost at his armpits. Her pussy was just above his stiff manhood.
The other twelve witches again formed their circle and again started their chant, “Source of life, bring us life. Source of life, set us free.” On the first “Source,” the High Priestess lowered herself onto David’s prick. On the second, she raised herself up almost off of his shaft.
The chant continued and so did the High Priestess’s slow bounce on David’s prick. She kept her hands flat on his chest with her eyes closed and her head tilted slightly back as she slowly moved toward an orgasm. At one point David could feel his balls about to boil over, but when his prick twitched slightly she suddenly opened her eyes and said harshly, “No, no, no, my source of life. You will not release until I do. You will cum only on my command.”
After that, it was almost torture for David. Yes, it was pleasure, but in and among and on top of that pleasure was the intense need to ejaculate. He desperately needed to cum, and yet he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. Finally she opened her eyes once again and said simply, “Now.”
David felt like a gallon of sperm gushed forth from his cock as the blonde High Priestess keened softly and dug her fingertips into his chest.
After a few moments, she lifted herself off of him and swung her leg over so that she could stand next to the altar. The rich girl climbed up onto the altar, but stopped with her knees between his legs. She looked up at the other girls and said, “They tease me that I’ve got a clitoris in my throat rather than tonsils, but that’s OK. If I do, it means I have two clits where your prick is going to be rubbing me.”
She paused and looked around waiting for something. Then, as the chant and dance began once again, she lowered her mouth down onto David’s prick. He immediately became stiff as her tongue slid along the bottom of his prick while she sucked him deep into her mouth. If her tonsils were clits, then he was definitely rubbing them.
Like the High Priestess before her, she matched the bobbing of her head to the tempo of the chant. David began to moan in delicious agony. He once again was ready to spurt and once again the blonde commanded him, “I will tell you when!”
He was thrashing and squirming on the stone altar that was starting to get wet with his sweat. He could hear his own voice calling out, “Please, please, please, let me cum.” But the chat went on and on. Finally the chant stopped and the High Priestess said firmly, “Now!”
Once again it felt as if gallons of cum gushed forth from his prick as the rich girl greedily sucked all of it down. When she stood up, David cried out, “No more. Please, no more. I can’t stand it.”
The petite Asian stewardess stood next to him. She bent down and said softly, “You have only started, but I think I can get your prick back at attention.” She then climbed up onto the altar facing his feet with her knees between his legs and her ankles propped over his thighs.
“Do you think you’re slick enough to spear my rosebud?” she asked lightly. Then she lowered herself down until she had his prick trapped between her ass cheeks. She slowly settled herself down further until the tip of David’s prick was past her inner sphincter. Then she nodded her head and the chanting began.
The stewardess bounced slowly up and down in time to the chant, but now the pressure on David’s prick was twice as bad. The tiny Asian’s asshole gripped his shaft like a tight band as she moved oh so slowly up and down, up and down, up and down.
David was soon thrashing and moaning and crying for mercy. “Please, let me cum,” he called out loudly. “Please, please, please, LET ME CUM!” but the stewardess paid no attention until at last the blonde High Priestess called out, “Now!” and the explosion of cum once again erupted from his prick.
The petite Asian hopped off the altar and a somewhat plump girl with a dark complection and dark, wavy hair stood next to him. She spoke with a slight Mediterranean accent as she said, “I will give your poor prick a break.”
She then climbed up onto the altar facing his feet with her knees about at his hips. “I hope your tongue is a stiff as your cock,” she said as she settled herself backwards pushing her cunt against David’s mouth.
His nose was buried between her asscheeks and he lay there trying to breathe through his mouth until the High Priestess’s voice suddenly commanded, “Lick her, suck her, take her high enough to draw power from you.”
David didn’t know how he did it, but his tongue slid out far enough to reach up and touch her clit. Then it slid into her cunt and curled back slightly so that it was just behind the opening for the ureter... right on the location for the G-spot.
“Keep with the chant,” the High Priestess commanded and then the circle again began to dance. David tried his best to time his licks with the chant. When the chant said, “Source of life, bring us life,” he would rub his tongue against the dark girl’s clit. When the chant said, “Source of life, set us free,” he would stab his tongue into her cunt and attempt to spear her G-spot.
His prick was very stiff and sticking straight up into the air and his balls were tight against the bottom of his prick. If his timing got off, he would receive a sharp smack just below his balls. Needless to say, his timing improved as the dark girl’s juices continued to flow down on his face and into his mouth.
After what seemed like forever, the High Priestess firmly said, “Now!” and the wavy-haired girl tilted back her head and screamed out in orgasm while at the same time ramming her cunt and ass onto David’s face. He couldn’t breathe. He was suffocating. He was trying to call for help, but his mouth was totally blocked by cunt and his nose was blocked by ass. He felt his balls emptying gallons of cum up into the air as a black curtain fell over everything.
When he regained consciousness a different girl was now straddling his prick. The chant was beginning and she was lowering herself onto his prick. “No, no,” he moaned. “I can’t do this.”
“Yes, you can,” the blonde High Priestess said firmly. “And remember that you don’t release until I say so.”
Somehow David became hard for the fifth time. And for the fifth time he endured the slow chant and the slow bounce until the blonde said, “Now!” and the girl above him tilted back her head and groaned out in orgasm. For the fifth time, it felt as if gallons of cum spurted out of his prick
This was to repeat eight more times. David would become hard. The girl would mount him or suck him or force him to eat her and he would cry out in torment until the High Priestess said, “Now!” Then his prick would gush forth with gallons of cum.
Finally, the blonde High Priestess again climbed up onto the altar. “This is the last time,” she said as she centered herself over his prick. The chant began and her slow bounce started. It seemed to go on forever– longer than ever before. David felt himself becoming stiffer and stiffer and stiffer. His balls seemed to be boiling with tons of cum, but he couldn’t release. The blonde was now keening softly. Her fingers were nearly digging through his chest.
Finally, she said “Now!” and the world exploded. White, intense heat overwhelmed David. Then blackness.
He was cold. All around him was darkness with what seemed like very intense fireflies flying through the sky. Then a voice called out, “We’ve got a survivor!”
Suddenly there were faces all around him. He was on his back and being carried rapidly toward something. A face looked into his and said, “I’m going to give you something to help with the pain.” Darkness once again overwhelmed him, but this time, it was a calm, peaceful darkness.
When he awoke, he was in a hospital bed. At least a dozen men and women were standing around his bed. Some were obviously doctors and nurses, but others were much more business-like... or perhaps military-like.
“What can you tell us about the flight you were on?” the most military of them said. “The tower reported that a Martin 4-0-4 TWA Skyliner took off without permission exactly at midnight and crashed shortly afterwards into Witch Mountain.”
One of the others interrupted and said, “That has to be wrong, General. Those planes haven’t flown for years... decades.”
“What can you tell us about the plane?” the general said firmly, looking angrily at the one who had interrupted.
“It wasn’t a jet,” David said. “It was a propeller plane that had straight wings. That’s all I know. Except that there were 13 women on board with me.” He looked groggily around and then asked, “Did any of them survive?”
“There were no other bodies,” the general said flatly. “In fact, there was no wreckage except for the seat in which you were strapped naked.”
“I could explain that,” David said, relaxing back onto his pillow, “but you would never believe me. I think it is best to just say that some Halloween ghost stories are true.”
“I think we would believe anything you tell us,” the general said with a grimace. “The serial number on the seat you were strapped into corresponds to the only one not recovered after a TWA Skyliner, chartered by thirteen rich, young socialites, crashed into Witch Mountain on October 31, 1954.”