Date: Thu, 03 Feb 2011 13:28:44 -0800
From: h.schreiber@hushmail.com
Subject: Affair of a Foreign Nature chapter 2

Warning! This story is a work of fiction written by a legal age adult. Any
similarity between the fictional characters and any live persons is purely
coincidental. This story contains fictional descriptions of sexual activity
between consenting minor youth. If you are under the age of 18, and/or if
you are offended by this content, and/or if it is illegal in your
jurisdiction to possess or read such material, please leave now and do not
read this story as neither the internet host nor the author can be
responsible for your actions. Please, always practice safe sex; no
momentary thrill is worth your life.

This work is copyrighted (c) by Hans Schreiber. You may not reproduce this
story in whole or in part without the express written consent of Hans
Schreiber at h.schreiber@hushmail.com.

Affair of a Foreign Nature

Chapter 2

What a Trip!

Mom shook me gently by the arm until I slipped out of my dream and into
foggy reality. The room was still dark and it took several attempts by mom
before I comprehended what she wanted. Finally, it dawned on me that the
day I'd been waiting for was here. Once I realized it, I scrambled out of
bed and carefully stepped over Ricky, who was sleeping soundly on the
floor. I smiled as I thought about the fun we'd had before going to
sleep. I pulled on the warm-up pants and a t-shirt I'd set out for
travelling in. I picked up my backpack and stuffed Ricky's present into the
middle pocket. I ate a bowl of Cinnamon Crunch on the way to the
airport. Mom and dad both drove me to LAX. I was equally excited and
nervous. I'd flown a couple times, but never this long before. I was
especially nervous going through security check since I was all alone. Mom
and dad helped me confirm my tickets and I got boarding passes for the
whole trip, which mom insisted I put in a zipper pouch along with my
ID. Before getting in the security line, mom gave me a big hug and dad put
his arm around me and gave me a squeeze. After I got in the line, mom
walked along the whole way just outside the barrier giving me instructions
on how to behave and admonishing me to be careful on the slopes. I was
relieved when the line made a switchback and I could just wave goodbye.

When I got to the scanner things, I forgot to take my shoes off and people
got impatient with me as I pulled them off and had to go back and get
another bin to put them into. Then, I had to go back through the metal
detector twice because of my belt buckle. It sucked and I was kind of
nervous and upset. I hate feeling stupid in front of other people. I waited
for my stuff to come down the conveyor and was noticing the tip of my big
toe poking through a small hole in my sock. I wiggled it and it poked
through a little more. I felt subconscious all of a sudden as if everyone
was staring at my toe. I slid my other foot over it while I waited. When my
pack finally emerged from the machine, I reached for it but the big guy in
the blue shirt took it before I could. "Is this your bag?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Get your other items and meet me over by that table," he ordered.

I was getting really nervous now. I grabbed my shoes, belt, iPod, laptop
and phone and walked over to the table. The man put rubber gloves on and
started digging through my pack. He pulled out my Hardy Boys book and
flipped through it. He looked at my snowboarder magazines and set them
aside. I glanced over and saw a kid about my age sitting on a bench across
from the inspector putting his shoes back on and watching me. I figured he
was glad this was happening to me instead of him. I was wishing just the
opposite. Next, the inspector guy pulled out my 3-pack Trojan2Go condoms,
held them up and looked at me with a little grin as he set them aside. The
boy across the way, who'd been watching so intently, burst into a smile,
grabbed his stuff and trotted off. I could feel the heat in my face. I
looked back at my toe and wiggled it some more. I took my shoes and bent
down to put them on but the inspector guy told me not to, so I just stared
back at my toe.

Finally, the inspector pulled out my birthday gift from Ricky. "What is
this?" he asked.

I started freaking out inside. I'm sure it showed, even though I tried my
best to act cool about it. "Just a thing my friend gave me."

"Who is your friend?"

"This kid named Ricky where I live. It was for my birthday," I said. I knew
from reading about interrogations that you had to use as much truth as
possible to sound convincing.

"What is it?"

"A deodorant stick," I said simply.

"Odd gift."

"He's an odd kid." That was totally true.

The inspector popped the lid, spun the dial and lifted the deodorant piece
out and peered inside then tipped it toward me. "Do you want to explain?"

"Okay. It's a camera. Ricky's into electronics. He gave it to me,
really. It's not a bomb or anything like that if that's what you're
thinking." I was really scared now. The look on his face was stern.

"Follow me." He gathered up my belongings and stuffed everything in my pack
except the deodorant case and my ID. Those went in a separate box. I
grabbed my shoes and wished I'd worn socks without a hole in them. Seems
odd for me to worry about that again, but it's what popped into my mind.

He led me to a small office and told me to sit down. The door locked behind
him. Soon, two men walked in scowling. I was trembling and couldn't
stop. Suddenly, my excitement about going to South Tyrol was gone and all I
really wanted to do was just go back home.

"Name?" The short guy in the bright blue shirt asked as he sat behind the
desk.

"David Williams," I volunteered. "I don't have a rank or serial number."

The man at the desk looked at me and frowned. The big guy moved over next
to me and folded his massive arms. I don't know why I say such stupid shit
when I get nervous. I was just trying to lighten it up a bit. Humor was
obviously the wrong approach.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

He made no acknowledgement of my comment or apology. "Where are you
travelling to?"

"South Tyrol, sir." I decided full respect was the better tack to take.

"Why?"

"I'm visiting a friend there. He invited me to come and stay for a week."

"Name?"

"Umm, I told you, David Williams, sir."

"Not your name, the name of your friend in South Tyrol." His tone of voice
implied I was an idiot.

"Oh, umm Karl Baumgartner."

"Address."

"I don't remember it, but it's at the Hotel Tyrolier. They're sending
someone to pick me up at the Innsbruck airport. His dad runs the hotel or
something." I decided full disclosure was critical at this point before the
big guy broke out the baseball bat.

He sorted through my stuff. He turned on my iPod, my phone and my Mac
asking me for passwords each time and browsed through each one briefly. He
held the condoms up and asked. "What are these for?"

I almost said, "You really look old enough to know." But, my brain engaged
in time for a change and I said, "Umm ... you know." I waved my hand over
my crotch and added, "in case I get lucky?"

The big guy snorted out a stifled laugh but snapped immediately back to
composure. The desk guy's expression did not change.

He opened the box and pulled out the deodorant camera. He held it toward
me. I started mentally cussing Ricky for giving me this stupid gift and
myself for bringing it to the airport.

"What is your purpose in having this device?"

"I don't really have one. It was a gift. I brought it along to play with it
and learn how it works." I honestly stated.

"So, make it work for me now." He set it on the edge of his desk. I picked
it up and pressed the center of the adjusting wheel on the bottom of it as
Ricky had shown me. I held it up an arm's length away from my face and
wiggled my eyebrows, then pushed the button again to turn it off.

"I think it needs to be plugged in to my Mac now to download and view the
video." He slid the Mac over to the edge and I pulled the USB cord out of
the middle of the case and plugged it in. Soon the device was recognized
and I gave permission for the download. Two videos were in the "My Spy Cam"
folder on my Mac. I unplugged the camera and turned the laptop sideways for
all of us to see the screen and double clicked on the second and smaller
file of the two. My face popped up and began wiggling its eyebrows, then
faded to black.

"What is the other file?" The man asked.

"I don't know. Ricky must have put it on there," I answered honestly. I
double clicked on it and, sure enough, Ricky popped up.

"Hey, dude. Happy Birthday. My butt wants to sing you a song." He spun
around, pulled his shorts off his pudgy butt and grabbed both cheeks. He
started wiggling them and singing,

Happy Birthday to you,

Happy Birthday to you,

You look like a turd,

And you smell like one too.



This was followed by a rash of giggling before fading to black. I, of
course, faded to bright red. I was so embarrassed.

The guy behind the desk was finally smiling in spite of himself.

"Alright. You can go after we search your person." The desk guy
said. "Stand up." I stood and the big guy came over and pulled my arms up
shoulder high and patted me down all over. He even pushed my warm-ups and
boxers up into my crack and copped a feel of my balls. He stepped away and
I tugged at my pants to clear out my crack.

"By the way. If you happen to get 'lucky,' you better not even think about
secretly videoing it. Doing so in most places in the US and Europe would be
an illegal activity. Luckily, you arrived well in advance of your
flight. If you go straight to your gate, you will still make your flight."
Well, the idea of secretly videoing myself having sex with a Euro-chick had
never occurred to me before he said that, but I liked the idea. I would
have proof to show guys back home and my status would go off the charts. Of
course, obvi, I'd have to encrypt and bury it deep on the hard drive
somewhere to get back home safely.

I put my shoes on and stuffed everything haphazardly into my backpack and
headed out the door being held open by the big guy, who just violated all
of my personal spaces. I thought of half a dozen smartass comments, but
luckily, my brain engaged in time again.

At the gate, the attendant knew to expect me and she interrupted boarding
to let me in. The old lady right behind me was annoyed about letting me in,
so in the walkway thing I let her go in front of me and that seemed to make
her happy again. A steward met me at the plane's door and guided me to my
seat. He said his name was Eric. I was in the second row right next to the
boy that had been staring at me in security. He smiled at me as I sat down.

"Hi. I'm John," he said with a small wave.

"Hey. I'm Dave." I was looking for my seatbelt and it was under his leg. I
had to fish it out from under his leg and brushed against his bare skin. He
had on baggy, plaid shorts that were at least two years out of fashion.

"I'm going to Germany to visit my dad." John volunteered without being
asked. "Where are you going?"

"South Tyrol," I responded, as I pushed my pack under the seat.

"Where's that?" He asked, wrinkling his brow.

"Just above Italy," I answered with the best thing I could think of to make
it easy for him.

"Oh, cool," he said. "I'm going to visit my dad."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Oh, yeah. He's in the army. He's got two weeks off and I get to go stay
with him there."

"Great."

"Why are you going to South Troll?" He asked.

"It's Tyrol not Troll, but a friend invited me to go visit and go
snowboarding with him."

"Oh, cool," John said. "I haven't seen my dad for a whole year."

"Wow, that's sad," I offered.

"Yeah, I miss him. But, it's gonna be so cool to see him." He looked out
his window and then turned back to me, "I've never flown on a plane before,
have you?"

"Yeah, a few times but not this far."

"Is it scary?" He asked.

"No. Actually, unless you're looking out the window, you forget that you're
even in the air," I assured him. "It's pretty safe, I think."

I supposed the baggy shorts were probably some sort of hand me downs if his
dad was in the army; they probably didn't have a lot of money. I resolved
to offer to buy his headphones and snacks and stuff, if he didn't have the
coin. I figured it would be an unbearable sixteen hours if he had nothing
better to do than talk my ear off the whole time.

"So are you in high school?" John asked me.

"Yeah, I'm a freshman. Are you?"

"No, I'm in eighth grade," John said. "I just turned thirteen."

"I just turned fourteen yesterday," I added.

"Wow, we're 355 days apart. We're the same age for 10 days every year,"
John said without hesitation.

"What?"

"I was born on the 10th, but a year after you, so that makes you 355 days
older than me," he explained.

"Wow. You some sort of math nerd or something?" I asked. He just shrugged
and looked out the window. I think I offended him. Didn't really mean to, I
was actually impressed he did that so quickly. "Hey, I didn't mean to
insult you, dude. That was actually pretty balls what you just did there."

He turned back and cracked a smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah. You're quick."

"I like math. I'm good at it. I think I can be an engineer someday for the
army," he said.

"Why the army? A good engineer can probably make major coin for a big
company," I said, thinking he was setting his sights a little low.

"But, you can't serve your country that way," he said.

"Right. Didn't even consider that," I said.

The steward came by and explained that since we were travelling alone he
would take care of anything we needed and just push his button if we wanted
or needed anything. He also let us know the aisle seat was empty to Chicago
and we were free to spread out if we wanted to. He gave us complimentary
headphones for the music and movie. I started plugging my own headphones
into my iPod but Eric told me I wasn't allowed to until we were in the air
and he would tell us when it was okay.

"So, umm, do you want me to move over?" I asked.

He made a sad face and shook his head no. "I'd like it better if you stayed
next to me." He was a sweet and seemingly innocent kid. I smiled back.

"Sure, I'll just move my pack under the other seat for more leg room then."

He jerked and grabbed my arm as we pulled away from the gate. "Relax. We're
just getting pushed back. We're headed to the runway."

When the safety instruction started, we both read along on the card in the
seat pocket. I think we were the only ones on the whole plane that did,
though. The steward checked our seatbelts and we taxied to the takeoff
strip. I love the feeling of the initial thrust on takeoff.  John's face
was priceless. He grabbed my arm and squeezed it. I snickered to
myself. Finally, we reached altitude and leveled off and John released his
grip.

"See, not so bad." I said.

"Sorry about your arm," he offered.

"No problem. First times for everything are always a little scary no matter
what it is." I tried to make him feel a little better about being so
nervous.

After a bit, John turned to me and asked, "Why did the guy search your bags
in the airport?"

"Oh, that," I said. "Well, they thought I had something dangerous, but it
was just a mistake."

"What?" He pried.

"It was a gift from my friend back home. It's a spy camera," I said.

He lit up. "Really? Can you show me it?"

"I guess." I pulled it from my pack and handed it over. He turned it over
and over. He popped the top off and twisted the dial and took out the inner
piece as if he had designed it himself. He fiddled with the wires and
wrinkled his nose.

"Nice friend," he finally said. "He spent a lot of money on this. It's a
nice assembly."

"You know about spy cameras?" I asked, surprised.

"Well not really, a little. I've seen them on the internet, but I know more
about processors, and well, some about cameras for webcams. It's sort of a
hobby for me to build my own computers and sell them to people my mom
knows," he said. "Can I play with it?"

"Sure, but don't break it," I said.

"Lame hobby," I thought to myself.

He looked at me odd and said, "I won't break it."

"I can't figure out how he did such a balls job of putting the camera in
the case without the lens being obvious," I commented, as I peered at the
shiny label that covered the lens making it look perfectly normal. "I mean,
I know he's good with this kinda stuff but that's like professional."

John looked at me questioningly, almost sizing up if I was messing with him
or if I was serious. I guess he decided I was serious, which I was, and
said as non-judgmentally as he could, "He didn't make that part. You buy it
that way, with the lens already mounted, off the internet. Then you add the
other components. And like I said, he spent a bunch of money on you. This
is good stuff in here."

"Oh." I felt foolish. Of course, Ricky couldn't have done that professional
of a job on it. The steward came by and said it was now okay to turn on our
electronics.

"Can we try it out?" John asked, hopeful.

"Sure. Could be fun," I agreed. As Ricky reassembled the camera, a large
man with dark hair, dark complexion and very hairy arms walked up to and
stood in front of our row to retrieve something from the overhead bin for
the third time. He kept taking glances at us. I felt a cold chill whenever
I looked at him. He had a bizarre tattoo on his wrist. It was a knife with
a cross on the handle and a snake wrapped around the blade. The creepiest
thing of all was that his pinky finger and the one next to it were missing,
and he just had mangled stubs protruding from his hand. His eyes were black
and cold. He was wearing thin, wrinkly, beige pants. He was making a small
tent in his thin pants, experiencing a partial stiffie. Once, as our eyes
briefly met, he reached down and gave his dick a squeeze. I was unnerved by
seeing that done by a grown man. I'd seen it in the school hallways before,
but not really by a man in public.

I took the camera from John and pressed the button to start recording. I
held it in the direction of the strange guy, resting it on the tray table
in front of me. When he walked away, after taking another, creepy, leering
look at us, I pushed the button again to stop the camera and pulled out the
USB cable. I pulled out and powered up my Mac and downloaded the video.

"Okay, new game to play," I suggested. "We take turns taking video of
people on the plane and then the other person has to make up a story about
them."

"Cool idea," John agreed. I clicked on the file and we watched the video I
just shot.

"OOOHHHH," John said when it went to black, "He's a Russian mafia hit
man. He's flying to Germany to murder the Chancellor. He lost two fingers
when his cheap Russian hand gun exploded during a mission in Nicaragua. The
tattoo is the symbol of the satanic cult he belongs to that drinks the
blood of their assassination victims."

"Wow. You're pretty good at that," I said, impressed. There is definitely
more to this little guy than I was giving him credit for. He's definitely
not just some lame little kid. I prodded him, "But you missed his stiffie
in his pants. I thought you'd say something about that."

"What?" John started giggling. "Replay it," I pointed it out and then he
could totally see it. We both started giggling like little kids. I hope my
laugh changes soon so I don't sound like such a kid.

 "Okay, now your turn to video someone," I said.

"Hey, he asked, "what're the other two videos in there?"

"Oh, this one's just me showing the inspector at the airport that it really
is a camera." I clicked on it and a close up of my face appeared, did the
eyebrow thing and faded out.

"What's that one?" He asked.

"My friend, Ricky, being goofy," I said.

"Show me," he asked. I figured I would; it wasn't really that bad for
another kid to see. I played it and John cracked up. "He's goofy."

John took the camera for his turn and asked me, "Can it be anyone?"

"Yeah, but they just can't know you're taping them."

He unbuckled his seatbelt, wiggled past me, and took the camera down the
aisle. I watched him stop about eight rows back and set the camera on a
tray table and kneel down to pretend to tie his shoe. Then he stood up and
walked back to our seats. I was anxious to see who he had videotaped. When
I clicked on the folder, a video of about a one year old baby boy, being
held by his mommy, was entertaining himself by sticking his hand down her
blouse. She would pull it out and shake her head and say "No, no, no, you
naughty boy," and he would laugh hysterically and do it again.

I cracked up and thought a minute. "Okay, here goes. He's not really a
baby. He's actually a mad scientist from Denmark who discovered a machine
that caused his molecular structure to reverse and he used it so many times
it took him back to being a one year old. Now he's travelling with his
personal assistant, Frieda, who's taking him to see a colleague in Germany
to try and figure out how to age him back to normal. Meanwhile, he's taking
advantage of the opportunity to get away with what he's wanted to do for
years and feel up his big busted assistant." John laughed so hard at this I
thought he was going to throw up.

We each took several more turns and I did one on the steward, Eric. I think
it annoyed him when I pushed his button for no real reason. We were getting
up too much, he told us and we needed to stay in our seats. John asked if
he could go to the bathroom and Eric said he could, of course, so after he
made up some lame story about Eric being a terrorist, he took the camera
for one last run. He had a mischievous smile on his face as he left. After
quite a while, he came back and handed me the camera, still smiling.

"What?" I asked suspiciously.

"You'll see."

I downloaded his new creation and at first it was like, showing a floor and
then a wall and then it was my turn to crack up. It was an image of John's
bare, little butt and he was spreading his cheeks like Ricky had done and
was talking to the camera, mimicking Eric, "I thought I told you boys to
stay in your seats. If you don't behave, I'll have to spank you!"

The camera jiggled a bit and flashed the floor again and then the
wall. Then, I don't know if he thought it was turned off, but it wasn't and
when he turned around, it showed his little dick and balls and a small
patch of brown pubes. He pulled his shirt up and pulled on his dick a
couple times until a stream of yellow pee shot from it. He shook off the
last drops, pulled up his shorts and then the image went dark as he gripped
it in the palm of his hand to walk back.

"Oh no! Turn it off. Turn it off," he said, grabbing at my Mac. "That was
supposed to be off after the butt part." I pulled the laptop away and let
it finish, laughing hysterically. Seeing it was hopeless to stop me, he
hurled himself against the bulkhead and threw a blanket over his head.

I made a copy of it in another folder, and then pulled the blanket off his
head. "Dude, look, I'll erase it, okay." I let him watch as I hit delete
and then he knew to make me wipe it, so I did that too. He was bright red
with embarrassment.

"Don't be so embarrassed. It was a funny idea. It's not like I've never
seen another naked guy before. You see guys in the lockers, right?" I
asked.

"Not really, we don't shower at our school."

"Well, you've seen them like in changing rooms at a pool and stuff, though,
I bet."

"I guess," he admitted.

"Well, then let's just pretend I happened to stand next to you going pee in
a bathroom and saw it. No big deal, right?" I asked.

"I guess." He was warming back up and I think he was appreciative that I
didn't tease and harass him about the little mistake.

"By the way?" I said with a smile, "Cute little dick you got there."

"Ahhh!" He said, pulling a face and throwing the blanket back over his
head. I just laughed. Later, he came out from his shell to have lunch and
watch the movie.

When the movie ended, we had to pack up the electronics, so we just talked
the rest of the way on the descent. Actually, even though he's different
from most of my friends, he's a lot like Ricky and is really a very cool
guy. He's lived all over the place because of his dad, but when his dad
went to Europe, he moved to southern California with his mom to be near his
grandparents. It turns out, he lives close enough to me that he'll attend
one of the other high schools in our league next year. We play that school
in water polo every year and I've been to it a couple of times. We swapped
phone numbers and agreed to accept each other as friends on Facebook.

It was a little bumpy on the descent and he grabbed my arm again. I reached
over and put my hand on his bare leg just above his knee and gave a
reassuring squeeze, with a smile. "Don't worry, it's bumpy like this a lot
when you land." He jerked again and actually cried out a bit when the
wheels bumped sort of hard onto the tarmac.

We had a stopover in Chicago before flying on to Frankfurt. I had to change
airlines in Frankfurt from Continental to Lufthansa for the short flight to
Innsbruck. We asked permission from Eric to get off the plane and use the
normal bathrooms, which we did.

It's an unwritten rule, at least in our high school and I thought pretty
much everywhere, that if you go in a boy's bathroom and there is more than
one open urinal, you never go stand right next to another guy. You always
leave at least one vacant one between you whenever possible. So, I selected
the end unit, next to the wall, a good 5 urinals away from the Asian guy
doing a no-hander. I never stand next to a no-hander even if there isn't
any other ones open. I'd rather just wait.

So I was pretty startled when John followed behind me and parked himself
right next to me. He just acted like no big deal in opening up his shorts
all the way and pulling his dick and balls out the top of his boxers. His
shorts were baggy and he had to widen his stance to keep them from falling
to the floor. I never understood why some guys do that. The reason they put
a fly in your pants and boxers is for the convenience of just pulling the
essential piece out, doing your business and quickly stuffing it back in. I
had to pull the top of my warm-ups down since they have no fly, but I just
pulled my dick out the fly of my boxers and left them in place. It made me
sort of wonder, if the video on the plane was really an accident or if his
reaction to it was just an act.

I did take another glance at his package since it was on display. It's a
little smaller than mine and Ricky's, but not much. Nice patch of pubes for
a barely thirteen year old, though. He was glancing in my direction, pretty
much straining for a peek.

I decided, "What the heck, let the kid get his curiosity filled." I know
I'm always curious about stuff and especially curious about checking out
other guys' dicks, so why wouldn't he be. I looked past him, and verified
that no one else was watching us and after my stream ended and was just
dripping, I quickly hooked my thumb in my boxer's waistband and slipped it
down along with my warm-ups. This exposed my pubes, entire dick and
dangling balls. I tucked both waistbands under my balls, pushing them up a
bit uncomfortably, and dropped my right hand in order to give him a full
view of my set.

He'd stopped flowing but made no move to put things away. He was just
holding his dick and looking at mine. He looked up at me, suddenly
realizing how obvious he was being, I guess. I smiled and when I did, his
face relaxed into a smile as well. I got one of my crazy ideas. Sometimes
they worked out and sometimes they turned out to be a disaster. But, I
seldom took time to think about which way they were likely to go before I
did them. Such was the case now as I started slowly stroking my dick into a
boner. I kept glancing over at him to see if he was freaking or not, but he
seemed all fascinated by it, so I kept going. I needed it pretty bad
anyway, I was pretty horned up.

He didn't copy my actions, but he got the same result. He was boned up a
good three inches and he turned slightly toward me and away from the open
area. A few more guys came and went while we stood there in the corner. We
would look forward when someone would get a bit close but look back at each
other when they left. The whole public exposure of it was wildly exciting
to me and I was on the verge of climaxing in no time. Checking that I
wasn't being observed by anyone but John, I surrendered control and slipped
straight on into the balls on fire rush of my orgasm. I gasped in short
whispering breaths and my butt twitched. I felt that burning, flushed
feeling as the first shot of cum hit the urinal. I wasn't used to using my
left hand to do it with and it gave me some different sensations. That was
kinda cool. I wanted to give as good a view as possible for John, so that's
why I used my left hand.

After three good squirts, I stepped up closer and milked the ooze out into
the ceramic urinal. John then tucked himself away and went to wash his
hands while I finished draining my balls. I pulled things back into place
and washed up too. I met him outside in the concourse and was curious if he
would say anything. He didn't. He didn't quite know what to say, I'm pretty
sure. I really didn't know quite what to say either and that's unusual for
me.

"Let's get some good snacks for the long trip over the ocean," I suggested
as an ice breaker from the uncomfortable silence.

"Yeah, good idea," he agreed. We loaded up on chips and candy since we
could get plenty of soda from our steward, Eric. John seemed to have plenty
of spending money, so I didn't have to offer to buy for him. We flashed our
tickets and got back on the plane. We settled back into our seats. I
snagged my own blanket and a little pillow for the next flight. John
already had one and I was a bit jealous of it on the last flight. I
wondered if we would have someone sitting by us from here on. Turns out, we
had the section all to ourselves again and that was great. The ugly, hairy
dude was still on the plane and I avoided any kind of eye contact with
him. He gave me the creeps.

Before the new people started loading, John got my attention. We had fallen
silent, each absorbed in separate magazines. Mine was on snowboarding and
his was some sort of military history thing. "Can I ask you something?"

I expected it to be about what just happened in the bathroom. "Sure, what?"

"How come you got rubbers in your backpack?" He said, blushing a bit.

"You saw those?" I asked.

"Yeah, the guard guy held them up in the airport," he explained.

"Oh, yeah. Shit. That was embarrassing."

"So why did you bring them?" John asked again.

"Well, just in case. You know. In case I get lucky or something with some
hot Euro-chick," I answered.

"Oh. I see," he said with a flat almost discouraged tone.

"Why?"

"Why, what?" He responded.

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just curious," he said.

"Yeah, I can tell you're a pretty curious guy. Hope you got all your
curiosity satisfied." I smiled and he smiled knowingly back. That seemed to
be just the right amount of something said. I know I felt better and the
unseen tension between us since the bathroom seemed to slip away once I
said something out loud. He got the message that I'd done it for him, and
more importantly, that I knew he was just being a curious kid, so no big
deal. Well, I guess to be really honest, I started doing it for him; I
really finished doing it for myself. It felt so good to shoot my wad and it
was way exciting doing it in the public place like that.

I could tell he wanted to grab my arm again when we took off, but was
afraid that he was looking too much like a wimp. Sensing his dilemma, I
reached over and took his hand. He immediately squeezed it and closed his
eyes. When he felt safe again, he released my hand and pulled
away. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem," I said.  I reached down and pulled out my Hardy Boys mystery,
"The Secret of Hidden Lake." John looked over and grinned.

"Oh, that's a good one."

"You read these?" I was surprised. "I thought my dad and I were the only
ones left on earth who read these."

"My mom got me started on them. Now, it's a tradition that I get one for
every birthday and at Christmas," John said.

"Cool," I said. We spent a good hour sharing our favorite Hardy Boy
adventures. "Who do you like better, Joe or Frank Hardy? I like Joe better,
because I'm more like him, always jumping into things and figuring them out
later. Frank thinks through things too much."

"No," John disagreed, "Frank's the smart one who figures everything out."

Finally, we faded off when we got our dinner. After dinner, came a
movie. They dimmed all the lights when the movie ended, so people could
sleep.

"Wow! LOOK!" John said turning from the window. I looked through the window
he was pointing through. I leaned over him to get a closer look and put my
hand on his bare thigh as I did.

"That's totally balls!" I declared. "I've never seen anything like that."
The image was a truly spiritual experience. The plane was flying just over
an endless layer of clouds that were lit up in every shade of blaze orange,
purple, gold, red and yellow from the setting sun. It spread across the
entire visible expanse of the sky. We leaned in close to the window, cheek
to cheek, to view the inspiring sight. We lingered there quite a while,
mesmerized by the spectacular image.

Finally, I pulled away and put my tray up and stuffed my pack.

John looked at me and said with great emotion, "I'll never forget seeing
that. Ever," he said. "That's how heaven must look, I think."

"I know. Me too. It was so beautiful and it was really balls sharing it
with a new friend." John beamed and smiled wider than I'd ever seen him do
at the mention of the word friend. I guessed he didn't have that many.

 Then I moved my seat back and settled in to take a rest. I pulled my
blanket over me and fussed with the miniature, doll pillow they give you. I
couldn't really get comfortable.

John was having the same problem. His head would start drooping and fall
off the bulkhead into the window well, waking him up. I had nothing to lean
against at all. "I got an idea," I said. "How about, I put my pack against
the wall. I'll lie down in your seat and lean against the pack for a
pillow. You can move to the aisle seat and lay your head on my body."

It took a bit to get arranged, but soon we found a reasonably comfortable
solution. He laid his head on his small pillow up against my ribs and his
left hand under my butt and legs. His right arm draped over my thigh. My
left arm was under me and my right arm was draped over his shoulder. We
drifted off. I awoke to a weird sensation. It took a bit before it
registered that I had a boner and John was tracing his fingers along it and
over my scrunched up ball sac. As soon as I stirred, he jerked his hand
away and held his breath. I decided to just ignore it. It made it pretty
obvi, though, what I had sort of figured out already about him.

We slept a long time. They fed us breakfast and we started getting ready to
land. We had a chance to talk a little more and I asked what branch of the
army his dad was in. John told me he was in MI.

"No way!" I said, "That's so balls. I would love to do that. I'm in ROTC
right now and I'm going into the army for a while because I want to join
the CIA or do something in Homeland Security. I totally wanna do spy stuff
when I grow up. They tried to get ROTC thrown out of our school, but our
principal's a Vietnam vet and I helped him get a petition going and we went
to the school board meeting with our parents and everything to keep it. I
was even the spokesman in the meeting."

"Hey," John said, "You should meet my dad when we get off the plane. He's
meeting me right where we get out of customs. He'd think your story about
ROTC is cool."

"Yeah, that would be awesome," I said. "Has he told you about any of his
missions ever?"

"Nah, he can't really talk about it," John said, sadly. I was disappointed
to hear that. Still, it would be balls to meet a real live military
intelligence officer.

As we started our final approach into Frankfurt, I reached under the
blanket and took John's hand again. He squeezed it less this time, but he
still smiled appreciatively at me.  When we landed and were finally in our
gate, it was exciting to hear them make the announcements in both English
and German. Everything was so different. All the signs and people talking
in foreign languages were fascinating to us. We gathered our stuff and
lined up in the aisle. Eric, our steward, gave us lots of instructions
about going through customs and helped us fill out our forms. I had to get
my luggage at baggage claim and take it through customs here, even though I
was going on to Austria. Then, I had to go find the Lufthansa counter and
check my bag back in for the flight to Innsbruck. I had a little bit of a
layover, so I had plenty of time to meet John's dad.

It was all kind of confusing, but we followed the other people from our
plane and waited for the luggage to start coming out. When the luggage
carousel started up, I got a crazy idea. I jumped on it and sat on a
suitcase that had been left over from the last flight and rode it around
waving at everybody. Of course, a security guard and a couple of old ladies
started yelling at me in German.  I jumped off and the guard walked away
grumbling. I kept seeing the tattooed freak staring at us. It gave both
John and I the total creeps. Finally, the luggage appeared and we each
grabbed the one bag we brought. Mine was kind of big because I had my snow
gear in it.

We stuck together to get through the customs thing. It was way confusing
and we got in the wrong line at first. People weren't very helpful, even
the workers. They just acted annoyed by us. I hate when adults treat me
like that. Finally we got to the window and the man at the booth looked
angry. I was reminded of the bad experience I had at LAX. I worried if they
searched my bag and found the spy camera, I might end up in some prison
with stone walls and moldy bread to eat. The man asked me like four times
why I was coming to Germany and where I was headed and who I was
meeting. Finally, I got through and it was John's turn. He just whizzed
right through. I don't get it. Maybe I look suspicious.

When we cleared the customs area, John started looking for his dad, but I
didn't think he could come in this far and suggested we had to go out
further by where you get busses and taxis and like that. We both walked
down the corridor and out the security doors. This was definitely the main
terminal area where anyone could be and so we started searching. Now we
really did feel like we were in a foreign country. All the people and the
shops were crazy. He showed me a picture of his dad, so I could help look
for him. I had a while before I had to get on my Lufthansa plane.

After half an hour of walking up and down, we stopped in a McDonalds,
bought a cheeseburger and fries and sat on a bench. There was actually beer
on the drink list at Micky D's and that cracked us up. I tried ordering it,
but the guy at the counter just shook his head.

"Where could he be?" John asked, on the verge of tears.

"Don't worry," I consoled, "He'll show up. Maybe he just got stuck in
traffic or something."

"Maybe. But he's never late. He hates it. We're always early to everything,
cuz he plans for stuff like traffic. I can't believe he's not here. What if
he doesn't come for me?" Panic was welling up in his voice.

"C'mon, you're talking crazy now. Why wouldn't he come?" I said.

"I don't know. I'm just scared kinda. What if he got sick, or hurt, or
something else bad?"

"You got a phone?" I asked.

"Yeah." He brightened. I could see it was like "Why didn't I think of
that." He pulled an older, flip phone from his pocket and a little notebook
from his carry-on. "I have to dial 001 then my number." He sat there
anxious to talk to his mom and find out what was going on. Soon, the sad
scowl replaced his hopeful look.

"It says I have no service," he said. His voice was shaking.

"Let me try." I carefully dialed the number and got the same message. "I
think you needed to set this up for Europe. Like some phones, you have to
swap the SIM card. We checked with AT&T and they said they use the same
system as Europe, so mine should work. Let me try. Oh, except I can only
call my home and the hotel I'm going to stay at. Mom didn't want me running
up a big bill calling my friends from over here or getting texts from them,
so she had them restrict it. I can only email my friends on my
laptop. Maybe, my mom can call your mom. But then I've got to go check in
at Lufthansa or I'm gonna miss my flight."

"You're not gonna leave me here alone, are you?" John pleaded. He was
struggling not to cry.

"No, dude. I'll miss my flight if I have to. I won't leave you," I
promised. But, I was getting worried now that we might both end up stranded
in the airport.

I dialed and it rang. I was relieved to hear my mom's voice. "Mom. It's me
David."

"David? Why are you calling so soon? Is something wrong?" Moms can sense
stuff like that. I explained about John and his dad not showing up. I gave
her the number for John's mom and she said she would call and see if she
could figure it out.

"What should I do about my flight? I have to go to Lufthansa but I can't
leave John since I've got the phone and his phone won't work over here," I
asked.

"If his dad hasn't met you by now, I guess he should go with you to
Lufthansa. If there is a help desk around, give them John's name and let
them know he is looking for his father and that you are going to
Lufthansa's check-in counters," mom suggested. Moms always know what to do.

I hung up and told John to follow me. "Dude, look over there in that bar."

"It's him."

"Do you think he's watching us?" I asked.

"Nah, it's just a coincidence. You've read too many Hardy Boys books." John
laughed. The joke helped ease our tension.

We reported John's situation and they made a note on their computer
system. Then we got directions to Lufthansa. Fortunately, it was in the
same terminal, but we had to go from section A to section B. We trotted as
fast as we could, using the moving sidewalks and dragging our bags behind
us. We had to wait about twenty minutes in the Lufthansa counter
line. Finally, we got to the counter and I showed them my paperwork. Just
before we got to the counter, I heard my name over the loud speaker. At
first I didn't catch on that it was me, but the second time, John and I
both looked at each other. The voice blared out for Lufthansa passenger
David Williams to proceed to a Lufthansa ticket counter.

"Hey, that's me I said waving from the line to the ticket agent lady
directly in front of me. They just called me on the loud speaker. I'm David
Williams." She motioned for me to get out of line. John followed. I gave
her my paperwork and she typed it into the computer.

"Yes," she said, "Is this John Randall?" She pointed at John. He looked
stunned that she would know his name. He nodded his head, indicating that
he was, in fact, John Randall. "There is a ticket to Innsbruck for you as
well. It has been arranged for you to travel with your friend. The message
says to tell you that your father will meet you at your final
destination. It says that you should not call or tell anyone else that you
are traveling there."

She took our bags and gave us a blue pass to use to go through a special
security line. The look of total relief on John's face actually moved me. I
felt little tears of joy building up in my eyes and I turned away to wipe
them quickly on my t-shirt sleeve.

"Wait," I said. "I need to put something in my checked bag." I pulled the
spy camera out of my backpack and stuffed it in my checked bag. I didn't
need to go through that again here. Besides, things were getting a little
dicey and I didn't need any more complications. Actually, I was sort of
loving the whole deal, except for how worried John was. It was all kind of
balls, what with his dad being an MI agent and all. My imagination was
going wild.

"This is kind of wild," I said. "It's like a spy novel. I bet your dad is
on some kind of mission and he couldn't come because of it. So when we get
to Innsbruck, he'll be there and take us with on his secret mission to
crack some code or break up some covert enemy plot."

"Yeah." John didn't share my enthusiasm over the idea.

"Actually, I'm sure your mom and my mom worked it all out and whatever hung
your dad up will be all resolved by today or tomorrow latest," I suggested
to make him feel better.

As we neared the security entrance, we were stopped short by another
creepy, tattooed guy. He stepped right in front of John and seemed to come
out of nowhere. In a heavy, unrecognizable accent that we both had to
concentrate really hard on to understand him, he said, "John, there you
are. I have been looking for you. I was sent by your father to pick you
up. Say goodbye to your little friend and come with me now." He reached to
take John's arm, but john pulled away. The hair on my neck was standing
up. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.

"I don't believe you," John said boldly. "Let me see your ID."

"Just come with me. Your father is Arthur Randall from US Army and he will
not be happy if I don't bring you to him. Come now or we will both be in
big trouble." John wavered a bit, uncertain.

"But I checked my bag. I have to go get it back," John said. I caught on
and agreed with him.

"You did what? Where are you going to? You are to stop here. You are
meeting your father here." The man said with confusion in his voice.

"What's with that tattoo on your wrist? I've seen it before," I asked.

"Shut up, boy. This is of no concern with you," he snarled at me. He
grabbed John's arm and I decided it was time to follow my mother's
anti-abduction advice and started screaming to make a scene.

"HELP! This man is hurting us. HELP! HELP!" His large hand collided with my
face and sent me sprawling. He started to drag John off, but a police
whistle sounded and cops appeared from every corner. The creep tossed John
to the floor and ran. He was tackled and quickly dragged off in
handcuffs. Another office gathered John and I up and escorted us through
security and directly onto our plane. Once we were seated, my heart rate
started to slow a bit. John burst into tears. I pulled him against me and
held him while he cried.

"What's happening?" He cried. "What's going on? I'm scared."

"Hey, we'll figure it out when we meet up with Mr. Baumgartner in
Austria. He'll know people we can call to sort it all out. Maybe, your dad
will be in Innsbruck when we get there like the ticket agent lady said," I
comforted.

I pulled the blanket over our laps and gently rubbed and tickled his bare
thigh with my right hand, while I held him around the waist with my
left. It always used to make me feel better as a little kid, when my mom or
dad would tickle my leg or back to comfort me.

He stopped crying as hard and just sort of sniffed and trembled. A large
Austrian woman sat next to us and paid us no attention, so I kept to John's
side of the seat for the entire 1 1/2 hour flight. We didn't really talk
much. We just leaned against each other, stared out the window, sipped our
cokes and ate the weird cheese snacks they gave us in silence. It was a
very comfortable silence, though.

He seemed to like it and didn't mind that I let my hand creep further and
further up his baggy pant leg. Like I said, sometimes I just do things and
don't think about them first. I inched my fingers all the way up and
brushed against his soft, crinkly balls and felt the downy fibers of his
pubes. Other than to look down and tug the blanket slightly higher, he gave
no other reaction. Emboldened, I maneuvered my hand onto his dick. I
glanced over and made sure the enormous Austrian woman was still
sleeping. She was and she also provided a perfect blockade.

I gripped and squeezed his stiffening dick in my fingers and rubbed my hand
over it. Then I ran my fingers through his soft, silky pubes and tickled
the right side of his ball sac. John closed his eyes and smiled in blissful
satisfaction. I cupped my hand over it and rubbed slowly, rhythmically over
the sensitive underside of the tip. His breathing got deeper and slower. He
pressed his lips together, blowing out steady streams of breath. He peeked
down, looked over at me, peered at the large Austrian, smiled and closed
his eyes again.

Suddenly, he sucked in a gasp of air, pulled backward into the seat and
started to quiver. A pool of hot goo spread across my fingers and
palm. What was I thinking? "Oh shit," I whispered. "I didn't plan on that."

He quivered again, adding more goo, and as he caught his breath, he started
giggling. That started me giggling. There we sat, John with both hands over
his mouth trying not to giggle but giggling uncontrollably, nonetheless,
and me giggling like an eight year old too. All the while, I was trying to
contain the pool of goo under my hand so it wouldn't soak his shorts. I
pulled my left arm free from around him and grabbed the napkins that came
with our cheese snacks. "Here," I suggested, "Put these in your boxers and
I'll use them to wipe up."

He slipped his hands under the blanket, unsnapped and zipped down his
shorts. Then he stuffed the napkins in his boxers and I wiped up as best I
could. We kept slipping back into fits of giggles as we did it. When I had
cleaned it as good as possible, I pulled the messy napkins out and
wondered, "What now, Sherlock?" Like a stroke of brilliance that Frank
Hardy would have come up with, I grabbed an air sickness bag and stuffed
the cum-soaked napkins in it. Lucky, John didn't cum all that much or I
don't know what I would have done. I wiped my hand and fingers on my socks
and John put himself back together.

 "Wow," I thought as I took hold of John's hand for the landing, "What a
trip."