Archive-author: Mike Khan (Leatherman)
Archive-title: Five Mile High Club
. F i v e M i l e H i g h C l u b
. from "The Leatherjacket Tales"
I remember the good old days of flying, when the great 747
fleet first graced the skies. It was the peak of the jet age
and the world looked on us as the elite of the elite. We set
the standard by which all commercial flying was judged. I
recall how honoured I was the day I received my flight
attendant wings, my first flight, my promotion to purser. Ahh
yes, the past was beautiful. No low budget airlines, no TWA
scabs, no imminent fear of bankruptcy. We flew with pride and
proved our service was the best. I worked the New York to
Frankfurt run as often as I could. Of course, that one day
still stands out strongly in my memory.
We were late boarding for the flight. I had gone from the
plane into the passenger waiting area. There I noticed him for
the first time. He was so handsome-tall, brown hair,
high-cheek boned with deep blue eyes and manly tanned face.
His moustache accented his perfect smile. Our eyes met. I
felt like a school boy who is having the first crush on his
teacher. As I walked back to the plane, I glanced back at him
only to find him looking at me, grinning like someone with a
secret he is aching to tell. I notice he was tall and well
framed, even in his business suit.
I returned to my post in the first class cabin and waited to
see if he would be seated near my position. Alas, he was not
amongst the first class group. I sighed as we closed the
doors. One of the stewardess in the aft of the economy cabin
called me to come to the rear galley. I carefully checked each
passenger as I walked down the aisle, trying to give the
appearance that I was inspecting seat belts when in reality I
was looking for him. I was perplexed as I failed to find him.
The disappointed look disappeared from my face as I walked back
towards the first class cabin. There, in seat 23 A, was my
"Excuse me," he asked, " but what is the flying time to
Frankfurt?" I laughed and replied with the 7 and 1/2 hour
flight time along with the complete routing that flight 66
would be taking that evening. He thanked me and as I told him
I hope i could be of service to him during the flight, he
chuckled saying, "I'm sure you will be".
The flight finally took off with its usual 45 minute delay.
All during the meal service I kept finding excuses to walk
about the cabin to steal a glance at my friend in 23 A. When
the meal service was ended in the back, the movie began. I
brought 23A a glass of champagne. We spoke casually about this
and that, but our eyes were glued to each others during the
conversation. I was anxious for the meal service to end. It
seemed to be an eternity. All I wanted to do was be with 23A.
Finally, the service ended, the passengers were either as
soundly asleep as they could be in an airplane, except those in
First class who comfortably lounged in their sleeperette seats.
The crew was beginning to rest. I went into the bathroom to
fix appearance. I looked at my eyes in the small mirror. They
seemed to me like two brown dots that were overworked. I
combed my longish brown hair into place, even combing my
moustache. I then proceeded to 23A.
My friend was asleep in his seat. I sat next to him. The
presence of my body caused him to awaken. We spoke. I had a
great idea. I decided to give him a tour of the plane. We
walked towards the galley elevator. I saw my closest friend,
Steve, who was working the flight with me. I nodded at him and
he knew what he had to do. Meanwhile, my new friend and I went
down to the lower galley.
The lower galley no longer exists in our fleet of planes, but
oh, I tell you, I was glad we had it that day.
My companion and I entered the empty galley. The lighting was
dim. The drone of the jet engines could be heard louder than
before. We spoke without as much fear of being heard. I could
see the bulge in his suit. As we looked into each others eyes,
our lips suddenly met and we began to embrace. Our kissing
became more passionate, my tongue working against the inside of
his mouth with our lips hard pressed. THE heat of our longing
grew. I started to kiss his neck, rubbing my hand over his
crotch area. I felt his hard organ beneath his clothes. I
unbuttoned his shirt and began to suck on his erect nipples.
Slowly, I worked my way down to his pants. My hand worked his
cock out from under them. It was hard and erect. My tongue
licked the head and slowly went around the shaft. As I sucked
on his immense organ, my fingers worked their way around back
and began to tease his tight asshole. He moaned as I took his
shaft deep into my throat. "Oh, yeah,"he groaned in
excitement"uuuhhhhhhhhh...Fuck me, please, fuck me" he asked as
he moved his body in response to my work.
I stopped sucking on him and stood up, removing the last of his
clothes. He looked beautiful, standing naked in the galley. I
knew I had time as Steve was above keeping guard and would
signal me in plenty of time if there was trouble. By now my
own uniform was on the floor. He was rubbing his hands over my
hairy chest and worked them down to my cock. He knelt before
me and took my eight inch organ into his mouth, making it more
erect with each sucking movement.
I then forced him to stand again. I turned him against the
galley counter. I stretched his arms out and tied them with
some cord that was in one of the holds tightly to the counter.
His feet were spread, legs apart, and ass ready for action. I
took some butter that was handy and used it to lube his hole.
I soon positioned myself behind him and began to work my hard
cock into his waiting hole. He moaned,"slowly...ahhhh,
slowly." As I pushed into him he began to beg me to push in
deeper, deeper, and deeper-until the full length of my shaft
was in him. I began to ram hard into his ass. My balls
slapped against his smooth, firm buns. Harder and deeper I
worked in the dim lights. Here we were, 36000 or more feet up
above the North Atlantic, fucking our brains out in the galley
of a Boeing aircraft. If the designers only knew. I wanted
him more with each movement. My body tingled in great pleasure
as my cock moved into and out of his aching lovehole. His ass
felt tight and warm as I rammed harder, almost without mercy
into his bond body. He begged me to shoot my load. As I
burned his ass with my cock, I reached my hand around and
worked his hard tool. I slowed my pace and played with the
head of his cock. This added to his own excitement. He was
wild with passion. I began to fuck him hard again. As I
forced my organ into him, I slapped his ass with my hand. Each
slap was harder than the one before. The sound of the engines
drowned out his moans. I continued again to play with his ripe
cock, twisting it in one hand as I squeezed his balls with the
other. I could hardly stand it myself much longer. We were
moving as one being. "I'm cumming!" he groaned. I felt his
body stiffen and he tightened the muscles of his hole around my
cock as his own cock relieved itself of its juices. I rammed
harder into his tightened hole, my cock becoming more sensitive
until at last I shot my own load deep inside of him.
I pulled my organ from its warm enclosure and untied my victim.
We kissed and then quickly dressed as I noticed the warning
light, which was Steve's prearranged signal, flash. I help my
friend back to 23 A and, very satisfied, I returned to clean up
any signs of our fun in the galley.
I was happy to learn later in the flight that he would be
staying at the Intercontinental just as the crew would be. We
decided to meet in the lobby and we spent that day and night
together until I had to leave to work the return flight back to
New York. I remember that trip so well. But, even all
wonderful memories have their flaw. In all that time, I forgot
to ask him his name.