From: janus@sos.on.ca (janus znaiu)
Subject: ~~NEW STORY~~ Two Guys on an Airplane: M/M, constentual.
Date: Thu, 27 Mar 1997 19:44:07 GMT

Hey guys!  This was written years ago when AIDS was not yet
understood.  It is a fantasy story, not real.  Read it and 
enjoy, but don't emulate the behavior! If you don't 
like male-to-male sexual stuff, then of course you'd better 
go elsewhere. Wanna give me feedback?  Write me at:

woodjoh@hotmail.com.


TWO GUYS ON AN AIRPLANE
by John Wood

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."

"Really?"

"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. 

comments to:
woodjoh@hotmail.com