I sat on the plane watching this guy come aboard. He must have been 21 or 22, handsome, with a professional haircut crafted into an intricate helmet and a 4 inch ponytail handing down in back with a girl's stretchy hair-holder, yellow. He was chewing gum, gazing around him with interest.

Slender, t-shirted with broad shoulders, and with faded jeans, one knee peeping through a tear in the cloth. He wore white sneakers, and I guessed that he wore size 10 or 11 at least. His eyes swept my direction and caught me staring at him before I could shift them away. He sat down in the row in front of me, one seat to the left, a perfect place for me to watch him without his being aware of it.

However, my young man was very restless, and often got up to go the lavatory, or just raised himself up in the seat and looked around, forward and back in the aircraft.

Once we were underway, I shifted myself so that I could see the side of his face. I certainly liked what I saw. His shifted in his seat, turned to the side and caught me staring at him again. His eyes caught mine and held for maybe 2 seconds, long enough to let me know that he was at least curious about my staring.

I continued to gaze at him in rapt attention. He was the only male on the aircraft worthy of note, and a jewel he was.

From nothing to the sublime, I thought. Still, my admiring gaze would get me nowhere, I knew.

But he turned yet again, and catching my eyes a third time, knew that something was up. He sat and rifled through the magazine slot, finally coming up with the airline magazine.

Opening his attache case, he located a pencil and wrote on the scrap of page he'd torn from the magazine. In a moment, I saw the scrap of paper thrust between the seats. I took it from him, and rapidly read it. My next seat was empty and the third seat over had a sleeping elderly woman in it, so no one had observed the interchange.

"Do I know you?" The note asked.

"I wish," I wrote on it, thinking that this was too blatant, but in a two hour flight, subtlety would win a pursuer zero.

I pushed it forward so that the edge of the note was visible to him. In a moment, he reached, without seeming to pay any attention to it, and took it from me.

He did nothing for a moment or two, while my heart pulsed painfully. I didn't figure there was paydirt, but of course I hoped that he wouldn't make some sort of scene. At least he didn't get up and leave. But perhaps he was thinking of some sort of angry rejoinder.

Then he re-opened his attache case and rifled through its contents until he'd located a piece of paper---it looked like some kind of typed report, but he tore the page from the stapled number and turning it over, began to write something.

He stopped after a couple of words, then continued to write what looked like a short paragraph. Finally, thinking again, he folded it in half and looking forward as though nothing were happening at all, shoved it between the seats again. I hastened to read its message.

"You could just say 'hello' you know! But what the hell, this is kind of fun, too. I feel like a spy or something.

What is it you had in mind anyway?"

I smiled to myself. He seemed like fun, and this whole enterprise was beginning to be fun. Also, I could not deny the absolute sexual attraction he had.

"I'm just admiring the back of your head for now. However, I suppose true spies ought to compare notes in private someplace."

I shoved it forward again, after first looking around to see if anybody had raised their alertness to this surreptitious passing of notes.

He laughed and raised a finger that I could obviously see, then put the pencil to the corner of his mouth as he apparently thought of some rejoinder.

Finally, the note came back to me. "I reckon musicians compare notes, spies probably compare pistols. I have a 44 magnum with an 8 inch barrel. What do you pack?"

I smiled, my heart beating fast with the knowledge that clearly we were now on the same track. I wanted to accelerate this somehow, vigilant to the passage of time.

"I also prefer the 44, with the 8 inch barrel. I wouldn't mind trading bullets."

I passed my suggestion. He paused for awhile, then stood up as though to straighten his shirt and his pants, tucking his shirt into his pants. But I could tell that what he was doing was standing to look me over. His eyes met mine, then scanned down me and back up again. His cocky arrogance in this perusal made my face flush and my cock rise to rampant erection.

"Why don't I join you for a few minutes?" he said, finally, looking at the empty seat next to me.

"Please do," I said softly.

He crawled across me and sat in the middle seat. He extended his hand and shook with me. He gave me his first name,

"Ned," he said. "John," I said, and smiled.

When he got situated, he smiled and reached over and lifted the dividing armrest out of the way. "Surely we don't need this," he laughed.

"Surely not." I agreed.

He squinched slightly sideways until his thigh was against mine. The heat of him added to my excitement.

"Interesting meeting you this way," he said softly.

"Very." I agreed.

"Should make for an interesting flight. Too bad it's so short."

"I agree. But good things come in small packages. In your case, large packages."

He smiled big, his brown eyes crinkling at the edges. His teeth were pure white and beautiful. I thought to myself that I wanted to run my tongue around them.

"You feel a little cool?" He asked me.

"No, actually I'm really hot," I answered, suggestively. He got my message clearly but said, again. "No, I think I'm feeling 'cool'---like I could use a blanket.

"Oh, yes, I think you could, at that."

He got up again and standing so that me eyes and face were roughly 6 inches from his crotch, rummaged in the overhead bin. I could see the length of him through his jeans. He had a clearcut erection, running off towards his waistband.

I moved one of my legs until it rubbed against his own.

He remained in place even after I knew he'd found the blanket. I thought that he was exhibiting himself to me close scrutiny. I was glad he wanted to.

Finally, he sat down again, with a tiny pillow and a woolen blanket, which he bunched loosely over his lap. Then, seeming to settle himself again, he actually rammed his butt and his thigh over against mine. He reclined his seat slightly and put his pillow against the side of the woman's chair.

The stewardess came by before I could figure out what Ned was getting to. She said, "You know, there's an empty row back at 27. You could have more room back there." Ned's eyes came open a second, and he smiled the most flattering and gorgeous smile at the woman that anybody could generate I thought. She fairly beamed back at him.

"John and I have to conduct a little business after I catch 40 winks. Is it okay if we both go back there?"

"Sure," she smiled warmly.

As luck would have it, 27 was the last row in the aircraft, and right next to the lavatory. I thought that that might prove helpful at some juncture. In any case, being at the back, we were behind everybody else' purview, with the exception of the occasionally wondering stewardess, at least whom I could spot coming at a distance. Ned took the window seat, again propping the pillow against the cabin wall, and pushed his bottom over somewhat. Unless I wanted to make things very obvious, however, I could not take the middle seat. I wondered how this was going to work.

Ned, however, brought one leg up onto the middle seat and again scrunched down so that his leg was against my thigh and his crotch was mere inches away. He threw the blanket over himself loosely again, covering my arm in the process.

He cocked on eye open and winked at me. My left hand grasped his calf and massaged it slightly. I liked what I felt. My hand continued to explore partway up his thigh. He shifted slightly, enough to let me know that this was what he had in mind, and that I should continue.

My hand drifted toward the Promised Land. I was at the very edge of his forbidden territory. His hand grasped mine gently, and pushed me onward.

I grasped him through the faded jean material. His penis was large and fully erect, lying there just beneath my hungering fingers. His eyes flicked open, and gazing up and down the aisle, he raised his hips and unzipped himself. My fingers quickly found the opening, and delving underneat found myself one layer closer to him. Again he straightened up, so obviously that I thought anybody watching would certain know what he was doing. he fished about, bringing his jeans down to mid thigh and his shorts right behind them. I was given unobstructed access to him. The heat of his cock filled my hand. He was really large, I could tell. His boast had not been a boast, after all. He heat of the huge cock head filled my palm.

I masturbated him as best I could in the limited and confining surrounds afforded us. His face was filled with a slight smile, and his eyes remained closed.

I wanted more to happen, I knew.

After a few minutes of enjoying him thusly, feeling his balls, I whispered to him.

"I'll bet we could shoot some bullets in the lavatory," I hissed at him.

"You got a bullet shield?" He asked me, his eyes barely open and questioning.

"Yes," I said.

"Why don't you hit the head. In 3 minutes exactly, open the catch. As soon as I see it, I'll knock on the door three times if there's somebody else waiting. If not, I'll join you."

"This is going to be tough to leave again, isn't it?" I suddenly thought.

"Could be," he mused. But before I could remonstrate with him again, he'd fastened himself up. Shrugging, and afraid, but titillated beyond any turning back, I went into the lavatory.

I watched my watch and in 3 minutes opened the catch. He stepped into the very crowded lavatory.

He unzipped himself and thrust his jeans and shorts down again to mid thigh and stood facing me. I fished in my wallet and found the rolled condom and placed it over him. I rolled it down the length of him, and then applied my lips to the smoothness of him.

"There's nothing else quite like this, is there?" He rolled his head back, thrust his hips forward. I tongued the slit of him, and felt the smoothness of his skin.

"As long as we have the safe, how about you letting me fuck you?" He asked, bluntly.

It was what I most wanted, and I nodded quickly, yes. I stood and leaned over the commode while he put both arms around me and loosening my own jeans and pushed them down to mid thigh. My shorts followed instantly, and Ned was spitting into his palm. I leaned over as far as the slender cabin would allow, and used one hand to try to split my buttocks so that he could gain access to me.

He applied a huge daub of his spittle to my hold and then took his middle finger and pressed it against me. My anus gave way, slowly and somewhat painfully. Ned, like many other young handsome men I'd known, was ill inclined to be gentle or to take his time. His finger thrust fully inside me. He moved it about. The sundering pain of his entry lasted several moments until I was able to make myself loose enough for his assault.

Still chewing gum, he pushed me over until my head was against the bulkhead. He spit again, and my backside was running in the wetness of his spit. His cock came against me. I reached around to direct him. He pressed in on me, the hugeness of him splitting, hurting, and my flesh giving away slowly and painfully. Still, in a moment, he was inside me, and in a few quick little thrusts, he'd entered me fully.

His frontside was tightly plastered up against my buttocks, his flesh spearing me deeply, the pain of him intense. He left himself hilted and reached around me to grasp my flaccid cock and hoist my balls.

"I'm glad you sent me your little message," he said, over the roar of the aircraft engines. His cock was moving inside me, the pressure still intense though the pain had passed.

"How do you like my big cock up your ass?" He said, no attempt to whisper.

"Great," I answered back, thinking that it was painful but erotic.

"I loved to fuck a tight ass," he said, chewing his gum and thrusting in time to his words, his thrusts ramming my head against the bulkhead and lifting my heels off the deck.

He had one hand around my chest, holding me back against him, and the other hand grasping my genitalia, while he thrust and thrust again, his cock now sliding freely that my rectum had loosened, finally, and opened to him.

"Damn," he fairly shouted, as his back clenched and racked and his breathing grew ragged and finally, thrusting one last intense deep-entering thrust, shuddered as his seed came rolling out of him. When he withdrew himself, I could see the whiteness of his cum in the sheath that held him, still mostly erect.

The smell of my shit was in the cabin, but it seemed to have no negative effect on him. He looked down at himself, grinning.

I milked his seed into the tip of the condom, and started rolling it off him.

"You got another rubber?" He asked me.

"Not on me. IN my luggage."

"Too bad. I'd let you have a go at me if you wanted."


"Sure. Turn about's fair play."

I hoisted the limp, stained condom in front of my eyes, guaging the volume of semen collected in its tip. Wanting to taste it.

"You gonna suck it down?" He asked me, as though he fashioned my thinking.

"I want to. I know it's not the safest."

"Go for it! I want to see you suck my cum down."

I grasped the wet rubber and held up upside down, the slimy liquid running down and out into my waiting mouth. The salt/sweet tang of a man always supplied some deep need. I held it in my mouth for a moment and savored its flavor.

"You're not supposed to use a rubber twice. But I have, before. Why don't you put it on?"

I needed no second invitation. I rolled it over my aching erection, the wetness of its interior greeting me. I liked knowing that I was sheathed in the intimate second skin that had just held his own cock.

"Shit," he laughed, "you were supposed to turn it inside out."

"Oops." He was right, it didn't make much sense to be doing it this way. It didn't afford me a lot of protection, and on the other hand I'd negated some of this voluntarily by drinking his cum.

"I don't care," he laughed. "Sit on the can, okay?"

I did, my jeans rather ridiculously hindering me. He kicked one leg out of his own gear, and sat down on my lap, facing me, his lap slithering down my belly and stopping at my lower abdomen, while his crack was down on top of my cock. We strained and shifted until I could barely feel my cock in the right location. He shut his mouth, puffed, grunted, and opened himself. He squirmed downward, his bottom opening and clutching my cock, which ran up into his darkness.

His asshole muscle clenched my tube like a vicegrip, his chest plastered against my chin. The kinky hair on his chest, which smelled good, pressed into my face. I was powerless to move, and he took control, raising and lowering his smallish ass on my tool, until my breath was coming ragged and he could tell I was near coming.

He leaned back, then, and pulled my chin up with one strong, tanned, hand, looking me in the eyes as I shot, and shot again.

"I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did..." he said, not really asking. He stood up and I slipped out of him, then.

He quickly cleaned himself, putting the used toilet tissue between my legs and into the can, grinning, as his cock stood still partially firm, only inches from my mouth. I made to catch his flesh in my mouth, but he wagged his index finger back and forth, something like a first grade teacher, maybe, as if to say, "uh-uh, be a good boy, now!" In a moment, he'd gotten himself fixed, and took a quick look out of the door, and was out, and gone.


John Wood

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