Copyright by Marathon Brad, 2025, permission given to Gay Demon to reprint this story. It may not be copied to another website without prior approval from the author.
After I said goodbye to my college wrestling mentor, Coach Franco, my long journey to Sydney began with a flight from Philadelphia to JFK. In New York, I had a short layover before I boarded an Australian Airlines Airbus A380, the world’s largest passenger jet. The double-decker aircraft did not appear to be fully booked for the 19-hour journey. Fortunately, I was the sole occupant assigned a first-class seat in the upper cabin.
Mike, my new boss at the Milk Me Company, had booked the flight tickets for me. He shared that he thought the crew on this specific Qantas’ flight would take good care of me and attend to my comfort. I am blessed with all the ways Mike has been showing his appreciation of me taking the job. He is definitely making sure I am going to have everything I would need to enjoy Sydney and my new career. I feel privileged to be Mike’s Chosen Office Boy.
As soon as I found my assigned seat going to Sydney I sat and closed my eyes, reflecting what had happened during the past three days with Coach Franco. The quiet music on the parked plane helped me remember the way he called me his team’s Trophy Boy while staying with him. He kept telling me that he wanted to make sure I knew how much he had appreciated my physique and me.
During my visit, Coach had been firm about one thing: I was not allowed to wear much—if anything at all. “You are here to be admired, Brad,” he had told me with that deep, assuring tone. “I want to see you… all of you.”
I wanted to please Coach for all that he had done toward making me an excellent college wrestling champion. Therefore, I tried hard to give him some moments to remember before I left. I did as I was asked—walking around his home in the little pieces of apparel he had provided, or sometimes completely bare, feeling the heat of his stare as he appreciated my fully toned body.
Coach had a hobby of photographing things and these past few days were no different. He spent several hours during the weekend photographing me—posing me on his bed, on the floor, in front of the mirror. He had asked me to show off—arched back, legs spread, ass propped, hole exposed. I followed every direction to make him proud. “Good Boy,” he would whisper.
Franco had placed cameras all over the condo to film me. One humbling scene had me laying on his kitchen island, legs raised, completely exposed and fucking myself with different sized dildos. I had never used a dildo, or even seen one. He had numerous toys for me to enjoy during “play time” periods. In addition, there were a few vibrators that he would control and pleasure me. I was content to make my Coach happy.
However, it was not just Franco that would be photographing me. Coach had quietly arranged for a few of his trusted athletic friends to stop by in intervals—one at a time. Each of them came with a camera. I stood still while they took their shots, Coach watching closely, his hand occasionally brushing my hip or slightly gripping my thigh, reminding me who I was doing this for. Sometimes, I smiled for his friends. Sometimes, I looked needy. But always, I let them see me exactly how Coach wanted.
Between those visits, we shared softer moments, too—long kisses on the couch, whispered words while I sat on his lap, my bare chest against his shirt. But the passion always returned. Coach used my holes with slow, deliberate power—claiming them again and again, whether bent over his bed or riding him as he sat beneath me.
Each of Coach’s friends had arrived at different times—always alone, always greeted by Coach with a firm handshake and a quiet nod toward me. I stood ready, just the way Franco wanted—bare or nearly bare, my athletic body clean and glistening, my cock usually thickening more and more with each anticipating request.
One of the first to arrive was Arad, a lean, tanned, very handsome track coach with a clean-shaven head and sculpted abs. He wore white shorts and a skimpy white tank top that clung to his hairy chest.
A little brown bottle was pulled from Arad’s pocket and he opened the cap. “Here, Golden Boy. Inhale some of this.” He held the bottle for about 15 seconds under each of my nostrils. I became a bit woozy.
I remember Arad circling me slowly, camera hanging from his neck, but his warm hands found my waist before the first photo was even taken. “Damn, Franco, you were not exaggerating,” he muttered, gripping my hips as he guided me into a crouch, my bubble butt flexing back toward him. Arad fingers then slid lightly down my spine, even going lower and exploring my muscled ass cheeks. He then had spread them slightly to expose my slick hungry hole for his camera.
Feeling Arad’s desire, my leaking cock had also twitched. I held still for him, letting him play and tease my cock. I nearly lost it when Arad had bent over and placed the head of my cock in his moist mouth. I could tell by the look on Franco’s face that he really enjoyed the slurping sound that Arad’s mouth had made while sucking my hard cock.
Later came Marcus—attractive, olive skinned, with a perfect trimmed salt-and-pepper beard and strong, toned arms. He was a former wrestler, as well, and the way he handled me showed it. Marcus had me straddle naked on the back of the leather couch, then pressed his palm to my lower back, easing my chest down. “You are a very strong, fit young man. I can see why you are a national college wrestling champion,” Marcus whispered. “You should be worshipped like your Coach has suggested. I am going take my time and enjoy your athletic beauty.”
As Marcus rubbed my thighs, his fingers trailed upward to gently caress my hole. I whimpered as he played and fingered my opening for nearly five minutes. My cock had throbbed against the couch cushion, pointing downward, wetting the sofa leather. His camera would click with every twitched of my body.
Jalen was last—strong and striking, I recalled, with a chest full of tight hair and a large smile that told me he was enjoying himself. He took shots of me lying flat on the floor, legs bent, hole visible between my cheeks. He knelt beside me, running his hand across my abs, then lightly teasing my nipples for some time until my body arched for him. I remembered gasping as he leaned in and said, “you really like being played with and shown off, huh?” My cock was hard and drooling again. Jalen made sure to get the shot just as a drop of pre-cum dangled from the tip.
Each of Franco’s friends had their turn. Each took their time. None of them rushed. They gently touched my wrestling body with the confidence of me obeying their requests. Coach Franco stood nearby each time—sometimes watching silently, other times giving directions. He never stopped me. Never told them no.
He wanted me admired.
He wanted me remembered.
And I wanted to give him everything before I left for Sydney.
After the last of his friends had left and the condo finally fell silent again, Coach pulled me into his arms. I was still naked, fresh from being touched, directed and admired for hours. Camera flashes still had danced behind my eyes from the spot lights that Coach brought into the home for the photo sessions. All I wanted was to make Coach proud.
He then carried me to his bed—not to pose, not to photographed me—just to hold me. He laid behind me, one arm across my chest, the other cradling my hip. His lips pressed to the back of my neck, warm and slow. “You were perfect, Brad.” He whispered. “They saw what I saw every time I looked at you… my star college wrestler. A body that deserved to be worshipped. A Trophy Boy who had learned how to be used and still stay proud.”
I had swallowed hard, my chest tight.
Coach then turned me onto my back, eyes locking with mine. “I did not just invite them here to look at you,” he said quietly. “I wanted them to see what kind of young man I have had the honor of coaching. You gave yourself to me without fear when you were a freshman. You let me show you off because you trusted me, wearing the smallest white, transparent singlets when I handed them to you. Not questioning me. You did what your Coaches told you to do. That was very special, Brad.”
He kissed me deeply, his tongue slow, his hands firm on my sides. And then he moved between my thighs and made love to me—fucking me not rough, not rushed—just strong and deep, his eyes never left mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist and held on, letting myself feel everything: his very hard cock, his weight, his warmth, his pride.
When we both finally came, it was quiet—no loud grunts or shouts—just breathless moans and shivers, my body pulsing around him as he filled me one last time.
Afterwards, he had cleaned me carefully, then laid beside me, hand tracing my muscled wrestler’s chest. “I will never forget these last few days,” he said. “Neither will my friends. But most of all… I hope neither will you.”
And he was right. I did not sleep much that last night with Franco, curled into his arms. Although I was a little sore, I was stretched and I was claimed. Those last days had belonged to him. I wanted every inch of my athletic body to be his.
The plane continued to quietly hum before we pulled away from the gate, I drifted toward sleep, I could still feel my college wrestling coach behind me… inside of me… calling me his Chosen Boy one last time.
The attendant assigned to the upstairs cabin was Jack, a dark-haired flight attendant in his early thirties. He needed to shake me out of my light sleep to go over the safety flight instructions before we took off. Jack greeted me and ensured I would have a comfortable flight. He wore his uniform impeccably, perfectly tailored to his form. Jack took an interest in my upcoming job as an Office Boy. I pondered how he appeared to know something about me.
Shortly after Jack left me, one of the pilots, Timothy, came and chatted with me. He said he saw in the camera that I was the only one seated in the upper cabin and he wanted to make sure I was comfortable. The handsome pilot remarked that I had the physique of a young athletic man. He became particularly intrigued by my college wrestling background. Once again, I wondered how a crew member knew something about me. Subsequently, the pilot told me I could get very comfortable when I lounged during the flight since I was the only one in the upper cabin. Timothy said that he would definitely come back later in the flight.
After we were in the air, I decided to take advantage of Timothy and Jack’s hospitality and indeed get more comfortable as the upper cabin’s temperature was warm. I thought I would get a bit undressed before I dosed off again. While standing and slowly taking off my sweat shirt and pants, I noticed Jack coming up the stairs. The clothing that I had left on underneath was a short-cropped tee shirt and a pair of itsy bitsy white transparent shorts.
As Jack approached me, I unfortunately needed to bend over to stretch and get rid of a kink, arching my back and flexing my legs. However, I really did not want to bring much notice to me. I heard Jack sigh a bit.
Since the air temperature was so warm I removed my cropped shirt, as well. While the shirt covered my face when I took it off, I had to fully exposed my abs, chest, and hairy armpits to Jack. I could hear another silent gasp coming from the attendant. I was embarrassed as I knew he was looking over my entire, fully stretched out body.
After I had my shirt completely off, I looked up and acted with a surprised expression when I met Jack’s eyes as he stood in front of me. Jack responded with a wink and a bright smile. “I can see why you were a successful wrestler,” he said, breaking the silence.
I half smiled in return, thanking Jack for the compliment. Nonchalantly, tossing my clothes onto the seat in front of me, I told Jack I thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to try and get comfortable for a good nap.
Jack kindly offered to demonstrate how to recline the seat into a fully flat position. As he explained the adjustments, I felt his deliberate closeness, his body making gentle contact with my skin. Noticing his warmth as he leaned in, I could smell his masculine scent and the enticing cologne he wore.
When lying back on the stretched-out seat, I positioned my arms behind my head, offering Jack another full view of my body from head to toe as he stood above me. I watched Jack lick his lips discreetly as he took in the sight before him. I really wasn’t trying to become one of Jack’s desired passengers.
Before Jack walked away, I quietly asked him if he had a blanket I could use. I watched Jack go into a storage cabinet and then offer to place the blanket on top of me. He took his time with the blanket and tucking me in. I was definitely going to fall asleep with confused thoughts of how this flight was starting out with both Timothy and Jack’s flirtations.
About two hours into the flight, I slowly opened my eyes and became a bit unsure of where I was at the moment. The first-class cabin was so quiet. However, unbeknown to Jack, I noticed that he was silently standing near me, smelling my removed clothing. I flashed back to similar moments that I enjoyed smelling my roommate Carlos’s athletic gear when he was not around our duplex. However, I have never seen anyone smelling my clothing. I laid very still and knew that Jack could not see that my eyes were open as the cabin was almost totally dark.
When I had seen Jack going back down the spiral staircase to the cabin below, I stretched out my barely clothed body under my blanket and wondered what I could do now as I still had many hours to go before landing in Sydney. I was not hungry or wanting to read, but instead was becoming very horny after watching Jack’s behavior with my tossed clothing. I started to fondle my cock and lightly teased my right nipple.
I decided to connect my phone to the plane’s internet and watched porn. After becoming quickly aroused, I pulled the blanket off of me, stretched out my body, and released my hard cock out through the shorts’ leg opening. With my legs spread, I was easily abled to reach and play with my nearly exposed ass hole. Watching the film, I fantasized and did exactly with my body what the hot porn actors were doing with their bodies.
As I moved my fingers between my salivated mouth to my butt hole, my erect cock became so wet from the pleasure of playing with myself. Watching the actors fuck, my fingers were eager to do a lot of ass to mouth action. I have learned how my fingers could explore and please every inch of my body.
My body was loving all of the attention I was giving it. My cock was so hard, wet and full of pre-cum. My ass hole was moist and loose. Since I was using my ear plugs, I told myself that I had to be careful not to have Jack walk in on me masturbating. I kept my moans at a whisper.
As my wild jackoff session went on, I also thought of the other older men that had recently enjoyed my body. I flashed back to the recent playful moments with my new boss, Mike, Coach Franco, and his baseball coaching friend, Cooper. I also thought of our college’s baseball players and Nico’s appreciation of pleasing his sexual desires. Finally, the scene at the Pool Party where I earned so much money for the baseball fundraiser. I have allowed my athletic-toned muscled body to be used anyway that a man had wanted in the last few weeks. I wondered if I was becoming a slut?
Having these thoughts currently in my mind and watching the porn film, I finally shot a load of cum all over my chest, hitting my face and the seats all around me. I remembered that some of Coach’s friends had taught me how to scoop up my cum and place the white stuff into my mouth, savoring the taste. I could not believe what I just did on my flight, but I loved every moment of it.
After cleaning myself up the best that I could I was able to fall back to sleep while still wearing only my itsy-bitsy shorts. The airplane was so quiet in this upper cabin. It felt pretty cool, like I was someone important. I smiled and stretched out in my seat, again.
Several minutes later the fit, handsome pilot that I met earlier, returned to my now half lit cabin. Timothy had on his sharp pilot uniform. His dark hair was neat, and he had bright blue eyes that sparkled when he smiled.
“Done sleeping, pretty boy?” Timothy asked, voice low and teasing. “Looks like you ended up having this whole section all to yourself. Lucky guy.”
I laughed and shrugged. “Guess so.”
He stepped a little closer and looked me up and down, not even trying to hide it. “You comfortable enough? We want to make sure you are… very well taken care of.”
I felt my face blush. Timothy’s eyes continued to look over my barely covered body.
Not meaning to bring more attention to the small blanket covering me, I unintentionally stretched, allowing the blanket to slip a little and showing more of my skin.
“Trying to wake up,” I whispered.
Timothy looked around quickly and chuckled. The cabin was quiet—me all alone upstairs, the lights were dimmed for the long flight. He leaned closer. “Come with me,” he whispered.
My heart raced. I pulled the blanket around me and stood up, feeling the slight chill on my bare legs. Timothy’s eyes dropped, catching a full view of my thighs and my little tight transparent shorts peeking out underneath.
Without saying another word, I followed him down the aisle toward the back of the upper cabin. My cock began to swell with excitement as Timothy reached back and pulled me along. We slipped behind a heavy curtain where the crew could rest between shifts. Timothy pushed me gently against the wall and began to run his hands down my sides, feeling the strong lines of my youthful body. His fingers tugged at the blanket until it fell away, leaving me fully exposed except for my tiny shorts.
“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath, staring hungrily at me. “You are even hotter than I imagined.”
I blushed as the pilot slid his hands over my chest and down to cup my ass through my shorts.
Timothy growled low in his throat and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me hard. His body pinned me against the wall as I felt the heavy bulge in his pants pressing into my bare thigh.
One of his hands slid between my legs, rubbing me, making me leak into the pouch of the thin fabric shorts. His other hand grabbed the waist band and snapped it against my hip.
“You are a troublemaker,” he whispered, kissing down my neck. “I saw everything on the cabin’s camera that you were doing to your body just a bit ago. Your jack off scene was beautiful.”
I moaned softly, knowing I was completely at his mercy, tucked away behind the back curtain area, my totally erect cock throbbing for more.
Timothy looked me over, his hand roaming from my chest down to my abs—tight, defined, the kind of midsection that only comes from youthful years of wrestling on the mat, lifting weights, and earning every drop of sweat. The dim lighting cast gentle shadows across my bare, golden skin. I stood there in just my shorts—the tight, thin fabric hugging my hips, framing the thick curve of my wrestler’s ass, my cock bulging forward already wet with anticipation. My pecs rose and fell with every breath. My blanket now laying at my feet.
“You are the Milk Me Company’s Chosen Jock, huh?” he muttered, “I have heard, property of the CEO, Mike.”
My lips curled into a smile, “The Office Boy to the CEO,” I softly corrected him.
The pilot slid along the inside of my thigh, brushing close to the stretched pouch of my shorts.
“Mike’s one lucky boss,” expressed Timothy.
I inadvertently leaned into his touch, my body responding naturally, chest rising, ass flexing.
Timothy stepped in closer, his toned body brushing mine—his pilot uniform just tight enough to show off his broad chest and strong arms. He ran a hand slowly up my side. “You are unreal,” He whispered. “That waist… those glutes… you are built like you were born for this.”
His fingers hooked the back waistband of my skimpy shorts and gave it a slow pull, letting it snap back gently.
“I have flown across the world and have not seen many perfect bodies like yours,” he said. “You are like a damn trophy. A Golden Boy.”
I blushed as the attention made my cock throb. I was being admired—not just for being pretty, but for the hours of training, the discipline, the shy secret slutty streak that Mike had discovered and now, others like Timothy were tasting.
Timothy’s mouth moved to my neck, kissing slowly down to my collarbone. I arched slightly, not meaning to offer more of my chest to him. He then licked a trail down the center, letting his tongue swirl over my pecs, teasing my right nipple with the soft touch.
I gasped quietly, my head falling back, which allowed him to enjoy every inch of me.
“You have been spoiled, haven’t you?” he whispered. “Seduced by coaches and executives… now you are mine. Up here. Just us.”
I was breathing hard. My chest rose up, my legs being spread, my cock leaking onto the floor, as I leaned against the back cabin wall.
“You look nervous,” Timothy said, moving closer, his voice deep and slow. “But you are so hard.”
I swallowed and nodded.
His fingers were on my neck, soft at first… then firmer. He continued to trace down over my pecs, brushing both nipples, which made me gasp. Then lower—over the deep ridges of my abs, and finally curling around the base of my cock.
It twitched in his grip, “Still so wet,” he whispered. “You really do need it, don’t you?”
He moved down onto his knees and between my thighs. I moaned as I felt his tongue flick against the head of my cock. My hips jerked. His mouth was so warm. He knew I couldn’t last long being like this.
I was so overwhelmed with what this handsome pilot was doing with my body that I had not noticed another pilot standing quietly in the shadows watching and filming the scene. He put his finger to his lips to indicate for me to not say a word. I nodded my head toward him.
“Relax,” Timothy said, pulling back and stroking me.
Just then he stood up, pushed me gently over and down onto a small bed. Timothy’s strong arms guided me until I was lying on my back, legs pushed toward my shoulders and spread open. My erect cock leaked onto my stomach. He stood over me.
“You were made for this,” he said again, cupping my balls, thumbing over my hole. “You are mine up here, boy. No one else gets you like I do.”
Timothy looked at me as he unzipped his pants.
He peeled his pants and white tight boxers off and quickly unbutton his shirt, revealing his strong chest, his hard abs, and the dark trail leading to his thick, hard cock already standing tall for me. Timothy grinned when he saw me staring at his cock, my mouth parted.
“You want this cock inside you, don’t you?” he said, slowly stroking himself, letting a thick bead of precum drip from his cock’s head onto my thigh. “I was told you could behave like a slut.”
I whimpered, my legs twitched and opened wider.
I carefully looked over to the other pilot, not saying a word that he was still standing there yet. I noticed that he had taken out his cock and was stroking it while he was filming us.
Timothy leaned down, kissed me hard, and then slid his tongue down my chest. He did not rush. He licked up every drop of precum from my belly before he turned my body to face the mattress. I was moved and guided into a position of a yoga frog stretch.
I obeyed instantly, my body folding low, completely offered now—laying on my forearms, chest lowered toward the mattress and arching my back. My knees were bent and spread wide, my hole exposed between my glutes, open and twitching, pulsing with each throb of my heart.
“Beautiful. Look at this sweet thing,” Timothy whispered, thumbing me open. “So soft… so wet…”
He spit on my athlete pussy and rubbed the spit in slow circles around my opening. I gasped as he encouraged me to continue to keep an arched back. The pilot kept teasing and thumbing me, causing my cock to uncontrollably leak.”
Then I looked back and saw Timothy line himself up.
“Breathe for me, Brad.”
His cock’s thick head pressed against my hole. I clutched the sheets.
Timothy pushed in—slow and steady—stretching my opening inch by inch. I moaned his name. He didn’t stop until he was all the way in, balls pressed against me, cock pulsing deep inside my body.
“Oh my gosh… Tim…” I whimpered.
He held my hips, grinding in deeper, then pulling back just enough to re-enter back in with a strong thrust.
“You feel that?” he said into my ear. “You were made to take this cock.”
Timothy fucked me slow but deep, each thrust sending waves through my whole body. The bed creaked softly beneath us.
“Good Boy,” he whispered. “You take me so good.”
My cock was bouncing, dripping wet while being untouched. I just moaned and let the pilot use me.
“Such a tight athletic hole,” he said. I am going to fill you. You want that, don’t you, my little Slut?”
“Yes…please… I gasped. “Fill me…”
My heart pounded as Timothy rubbed my head and kissed my lower back. I then felt his hands lifting my hips off the thin mattress, encouraging me to keep my toned back arched. I shivered, my cock continued to leak like a faucet, forgotten for the moment. Timothy held my hips firmly, pulling back and driving home in another deep, strong thrust.
I gasped and kept my face between my lowered arms—feeling the pilot’s cock in my warm, tight channel. I felt so full, so full of him, and I moaned softly into the mattress beneath me.
He paused, letting me adjust to his cock’s stretch. I felt his hand reach under me and touch my leaking cock’s slit, wiping up my pre-cum. Then he began to thrust again, a bit firmer now, each stroke deeper than the last.
“Look how good you take me,” he whispered, low in my ear.
I pressed my face against the mattress, eyes closed, lost in the pleasure of being filled. His cock drove in and out, feeling the heat building low in my belly. My own cock bounced against the sheets, leaking more and more with each push. I was on the edge of shooting my load without touching my erect cock.
Timothy leaned down and kissed my back. “I am going to cum in you,” he promised.
I felt him stiffen, the tip pulsing inside me. Then Timothy let go of my hips, bracing himself on his own forearms, and slammed in three final hard thrusts. I quietly cried out as his warmth flooded my insides—thick ropes of hot cum that filled me completely, some dripping out with each pulse.
Timothy stayed buried inside me, trembling, as he rode out his release. I felt every pulse, every throb, my body hot and heavy with him. When he finally pulled out, I lay there panting, coated in his cum, my body still trembling with aftershocks.
It was at that moment that I came, too. Untouched. It was if my cock was milking itself, forming a pool of white, thick cum underneath me. My chest breathing heavy.
I looked over my back to see the reaction of the voyeur pilot. I saw him shooting his load onto his handkerchief. Quickly after he came, he vanished before Timothy would notice him.
Three men releasing themselves in a matter of a few seconds.
Timothy rolled onto the bed beside me. I turned my head and saw his face full with satisfaction. I was still shaking, my own cock still leaking, and I melted beside him, feeling so used and so full.
“I am glad that your CEO asked us which exact flight my crew were flying from New York to Sydney. My friend, Mike, has indeed hired a beautiful young man to be his Office Boy,” said the pilot. “You are going to make a great Jock Boy for that staff.”
I wondered how Timothy knew Mike and how the two could arrange this scenario. Now I know why I was the only one given a seat in the upper cabin. This all was a set up so I could be easily available for the crew.
To say the least, the rest of the flight I tried to stay focus about Sydney and what some of the first things I had to do after landing. However, the handsome fit pilot, and his use of my body, was something I could not forget about right now. Was I going to be seeing Timothy again?
And, what about Jack? Had he seen any of the sexual action that just took place between Timothy and me. Was he also an acquaintance of my new boss, Mike? I was so confused with how this all might be tied together.
Jack and I had a few more great conversations before we arrived to Sydney. We seemed to hit it off very well and Jack asked if he could have my contact information. Jack offered to show me around Oxford Street in Darlinghurst, the central gay district of Sydney. He also expressed being my training partner whether at the gym or running around on the trails in Sydney. I would enjoy spending more time with Jack as he definitely was an attractive Australian.
As we landed in Sydney, I felt ready for my new life. I had finally made it.
Leaving the plane, Timothy and the other pilots were thanking the customers for their business. While Timothy was handing me a small note, which I later saw was his contact information, I received a wink from the voyeur pilot.
I left the plane feeling overwhelmed with what took place during the long flight. I now was definitely even more excited to be Mike’s Chosen Jock.
My email is [email protected] — I would love to hear your thoughts.
I love getting men excited—whether it is through my writing, watching me grind out reps in skin-tight gear at the gym, showing off online, or moving my body on a stage.
I will stay hard for you—in every way that matters.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
