I returned to my seat as if in a dream, cock forced downwards by her panties and ass aflutter because of the intense vibrations coming from the buttplug. I couldn't believe what just happened-or happening. I had gone from taking a routine flight to being molested in the bathroom of an airplane, forced to eat this stranger's pussy, wear her panties and suffer the pleasurable discomfort of a plastic vibrating intrusion in my ass. I sat down, pressing the plug deeper into my ass. Junko made the rounds through the cabin, ensuring that all seats and tables were in the upright position. And buckled my seatbelt again, too tightly of course. We landed a few minutes later and my mind turned to the more mundane aspects of travel, like dealing with suitcases and immigration. Junko had disappeared, leaving me wondering even more about what had happened on the plane- I just wanted to get to my hotel, remove the buttplug and jerk off.
I found myself in the customs line, still walking a little bowlegged from the buttplug and with my cock still tenting up in my pants. I kept my erection covered with my carry-on bad and wheeled my suitcase behind me. I was next in line. "Please step forward." She looked at me hard through her steel-rimmed glasses as I stood in front of her counter. "Anything to declare?"
Oh shit, the magazines. What the hell am I gonna do? "N-n-no, nothing", I said a little too slowly.
"Bags on the counter." I held the carry-on still, not wanting to display myself.
"All bags", came the quiet command. My carry-on followed and I could swear she was staring right at my crotch. I started sweating a little, but looked away, trying to remain calm. Her delicate but obviously strong hands started going through the suitcase, searching thoroughly. Then she opened the carry-on and I knew I was fucked. Out came the paper bag containing the magazines and then out came the mags themselves. Her efficient hands stopped. She looked right at me. I tried to look away, but her eyes commanded my attention. She started to flip through uncensored pictures of women spanking men, men trussed up in tight leather with hoods, girls peeing on men's faces, dominas with tight smiles buggering men with strap-ons, pausing at the more heinous offenses to her moral code. I was mortified.
Never in my life had I felt so small or wanted to flee so badly. The vibrator in my ass started to feel like a jackhammer. The customs officer finished flipping through the magazines, I started to try to explain, "I didn't..."
"Quiet", she cut me off, "You are in possession of numerous pornographic materials that violate my country's censorship laws." Her voice was quiet, melodic, and completely in control. "Follow me." With that she flipped down a barrier behind me and stepped out of her booth, nodding at two customs officers who were standing about thirty yards away. Not knowing what to do exactly, I picked up my bags and followed her down a narrow hallway, with the two additional officers trailing behind. She opened a door to a small room and motioned me in; the two escorts turned to go back to their stations.
I walked in, put my bags down and waited while she locked the door and marched to the other side of the room, seating herself behind a desk. She motioned to the chair in front of her. I sat down with a sharp inhale as the buttplug jammed deep into my ass. What a mess. I looked around the interrogation room- the long desk, two chairs, a waist high padded table, and a small porcelain sink in the corner. "It is not often that we deal with foreign pornographers- our country has many forms of this garbage, but their product is of a censored variety." Her English was clipped, precise, slightly inflected.
