Archive-name: Samesex/airscrew.mm
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Air Screw
As a frequent jetsetter, I have for long fantasized about this ex-
clusive club, which in reality probably has few authentic members who
have genuinely screwed their way through the stratosphere. How can you
manage to have-it-away on board a crowded airliner? Well recently I
succeeded - and how! This amazing experience happened on the top deck
of a BA 747 heading out of New York for Heathrow, with a beautiful boy
I had never met before.
I had had a hectic day getting my work completed before flying
out, got to the airport late, and consequently was glad to have got
through the airport hassle and slump into my Club Class seat. The top
deck of the 747 has a small cabin which some airlines use for first
class passengers, but many including BA, use for Business Class; there
are only 20 or 30 seats, which gives you the feeling of being in a
small, but spacious airliner. The top deck is reached via a spiral
staircase and you travel cut off from the masses on the main deck be-
low. This flight, luckily, was fairly empty so I was fortunate that
through the lottery of seat allocations, Lars, as he turned out to be
named, took up the aisle seat corresponding to my window seat and no-
body else got seated either between us or in the row on the other side
of the aisle.
Lars was slim and blond, about 25 I guessed, (rightly as it turned
out), and clearly well endowed in all the important places. He had re-
markably light blue eyes and was obviously in some form of business,
as he had a small patent leather brief case and when he took his coat
off he was smartly dressed in a cotton shirt and white jeans - which
showed his firm, well-shaped figure to good effect. I found out later
that he was Swedish, a junior salesman for an internationally known
cosmetics company, who at short notice had been given a lucky break to
substitute for his boss on a business trip to the USA. His firm but-
tocks thrust out firmly through his thin white denim jeans as he
arched his back to remove his coat and hand it to the stewardess. The
jeans were very tight and showed his well shaped legs to advantage.
But he also radiated something sensual which aroused the first slight
stirrings in my crotch. I realised I was feeling quite horny and in
the mood for conquest, but not in my wildest dreams did I guess what
delights were to follow!
He looked nervous and fidgeted when he sat down; he very readily
started chatting. I needn't bore you with the contents of our chat,
except that I soon persuaded him to move next to me from his aisle
seat, so we could talk easier. He was obviously a bit scared of fly-
ing. It transpired this was only his second long distance flight. Soon
after take-off we hit some unusually bumpy weather; the seat belt
signs came on and Lars wrung his hands and looked scared. Naturally I
put my arm on his thigh to comfort his and he leant his soft, perfumed
blond hair against my shoulder and visibly relaxed. The 747 flew out
of the turbulence but I was glad to find he showed no sign of wanting
me to take my hand away. The meal on a tray came and went and I felt
really strong stirrings in my pants when he snuggled back against me,
until recently a complete stranger. The stewardess brought the drinks
trolley and I persuaded Lars to have a double gin with a bit of tonic
which visibly relaxed him some more.
He snuggled closer and reminded me of a purring cat. British Air-
ways, ever cooperative, chose that moment to dim the lights and to
start the in flight movie. I started taking a few liberties with where
I moved my hands, aided by the semi-darkness, but half expecting to be
rebuffed as, after all, I was fondling a fella who until a few minutes
earlier had been a total stranger - this was too good to be true! But
I could not help noticing signs that my efforts were stirring up his
hormones; his face looked flushed, his eyes were soft and his pupils
large. My left hand closed over his left thigh. He made no effort to
discourage me, so I gradually eased my hand into a position where I
could massage the slight mound of his crutch straining through the ma-
terial of his jeans. By now, I felt rampant; my trousers bulged as if
they would burst and I began to wonder if we could satisfy our wildly
growing passions.
He snuggled closer and started stroking my leg in an absent minded
kind of way, fairly innocently near my knee. The arm of the seat was
getting in our way, luckily they hinge back, so I lifted it and took
the opportunity to slide my arm right around his left hip so as to
push my hand under his thigh. The band of his jeans was loosen enough
for me to feel his cotton clad crutch. I was pleased to find he was
wearing pants and as I reached warm, smooth, bare skin slid my fingers
into the tight silky pouch of his underpants. He made no effort to
discourage my wandering fingers, so, pulling him closer I covered our
laps with a BA blanket, and boldly stroked his thigh with my other
hand, working his jeans down as I went. He sighed and parted his legs
slightly when my hand brushed over the area of his warm smelling male
groin and my fingers at last brushed gently against the thin silky ma-
terial of his knickers, tightly stretched over his sexual mound.
My cock throbbed with excitement and anticipation and I had to
slow down and mentally count to ten to avoid filling my pants with cum
when I realised he was not only going to let me reach my target, but
was panting for me as much as I was for him. I inserted my fingers as
far as I could between his legs, and stroked them gently along the
warm and noticeably damp material covering his prick and up to the
summit of his pubic mound. He sighed and gripped me tight as my finger
deliberately sought and found his sexy prick. I felt him hand cup the
bulge in my trousers. We kissed long and passionately; it was strange
I thought to have got to such a level of intimacy without having
kissed before. I exercised as much self-control as I could muster as I
felt the exquisite feeling of his hand gently exploring my throbbing
cock. In return, my fingers pulled aside the warm silky band of his
pants; and I was able to stroke warm downy hair and feel the hard,
warm, wet and incredibly inviting intimate sex. I wrapped my fingers
round his hard shaft, and gently massaged it; I then rolled his heavy
balls encased in their hot sac gently and firmly between my finger and
thumb. He clung to me more tightly, eyes closed, and his hips shud-
dered; he sighed again and we kissed passionately.
But it is one thing to snog, even as naughtily as this, in an air-
plane full of people but quite another to remove the garments neces-
sary to couple us in the way we were both obviously craving for and to
release our wild passion in the sexual frenzy we both felt. How could
we satisfy our enormous lusts? What with cabin crew wondering back-
wards and forwards behind us to and from the galley, we could not eas-
ily strip off and start humping without the risk of creating a sensa-
tion on board. I had visions of us being arrested for grossly indecent
behaviour in a Jumbo Jet! Could I somehow get my cock out and force
down his tight panties? But what position could we use? Nothing else
in the world now mattered except an overpowering urge to stuff my
straining rod into the depths of his warm, eager arse. But trivial
problems like tight jeans, trouser zips, stretched Y fronts and un-
yielding aircraft seats made this ambition hard to realise.
Lars, as always, was way ahead of me. He gave my cock a gentle
squeeze which nearly fired it off, and got up without a word and
strolled seemingly casually towards the loo at the front of the cabin.
I contemplated following him into it, having heard stories of people
having it away in railway carriage loos. But this always seemed to me
to demand contortionist skills, apart from being not exactly comfort-
able or aesthetic! Also, there was no doubt that the passengers watch-
ing the movie would have noticed me following a boy into the lav,
which on the top deck of a 747 is alongside the screen for the in-
flight movie, which was then in full flow. The thought of banging away
in that confined space and of re-emerging afterwards was too daunting,
even in my highly charged state!
Lars re-emerged a few moments later, quicker than usual when peo-
ple use a loo, looking inscrutable. He grabbed a couple of BA blan-
kets, snuggled back against me and it was a matter of moments to cover
ourselves with the blanket. In the semi-darkness and in the back row,
we felt safe from prying eyes. My hand went back to where it had been,
to find just warm flesh and no underpants. I inserted a finger into
his warm and inviting hole. His hand was undoing my zip, under the
cover of the blanket; I undid my belt to help him. In a flash (so to
speak) my trousers and pants were round my ankles and he was holding
my throbbing prick like the gear level of a sports car - it nearly
made me change gear - into overdrive!
His nipples strained against the thin material of his shirt. I un-
did his shirt to expose his chest under the blanket. I was then able
to lay across him and greedily suck the entire nipple of his left
breast into my mouth, with my head under the blanket in raunchily
smelling warm darkness. I tickled the nipple with the end of my
tongue, an action I have found to be appreciated by other boy friends,
and Lars was no exception! He cradled my head with one hand like a
baby held to his breast and gently stroked away at my straining cock
from its tip along its underside to my balls. He was clearly an accom-
plished lover. I moved my head to his lap and attempted to lick his
prick, but this was almost impossible in an aircraft seat, even though
he parted his legs as widely as the limited space would let him. I re-
member the overwhelming scent of excited male mixed with the smell of
his perfume, but could only nuzzle his fur and kiss the smooth inside
skin of his thighs.
Lars unzipped his jeans and wriggled out of them, still under the
blankets. "Please.." he moaned - "please.." - I felt the same way. he
turned to face away from me, and firmly pressed his shapely bum
against my left thigh. Making sure the blanket was covering us well, I
twisted around until my throbbing tool was pressed up against the val-
ley between his buns; it was a similar position as if he was sitting
on my lap. I could probe his arse with my dick. He arched his back and
raised his right thigh and firmly holding the end of my pulsing penis,
he guided it into the mouth of his soft hole. I pushed hard so my cock
slid smoothly into his firm warm tunnel. I cupped both his breasts
with my hands and pulled him hard against me to penetrate as deep as
possible.
He sighed and shuddered and his hips moved gently and rhythmi-
cally. The need to copulate quietly to avoid attracting attention was
not forgotten, despite our extreme passion. This need forced us to
perform using hard pressure and firm small movements; he thrust hard
against my equal and opposite series of nudges. My instincts desper-
ately wanted me to pump every last drop of my spunk into him as
quickly and violently as possible, but my intellect made me want to
prolong this ecstasy. The discipline of doing it slowly and quietly,
so as not to attract attention, made it easier to prolong the excruci-
ating pleasure without climaxing. Curiously I have always found that
the longer and steamier the foreplay the better I can hold on until
the crucial moment of a mutual climax. I was able to relax and savour
the exquisite pleasure of being coupled with my beautiful fellow trav-
eller. I forced my left hand between his waist and the seat until my
it could reach past his bush and grip his throbbing cock jutting out
like a red hot poker which I correctly guessed would fire his climax.
We were now locked together and so overcome with desperate excitement
that at that moment neither of us would have cared if all the passen-
gers and crew were watching, although we kept straining against each
other and moving slowly with great force to avoid attracting unwelcome
attention. I could feel his muscles pulling and rippling at my strain-
ing hunk of meat that I cruelly rammed into him with as much force as
I could manage. He had superb muscular co-ordination and was able to
achieve what few boys I have coupled with can do, to give a feeling of
sucking me into him with muscular ripples of his anal ring.
I could hold back no longer and erupted into frenzied, deep, deep
wild spasms pumping and pumping what seemed like gallons of my juice
as deep into him as I could. As I felt my ejaculation erupting I
pumped at his rod. He shuddered and bucked and his internal muscles
rippled along me forcing out the last small jerks of spunk. We sub-
sided against each other quite breathless and trying not to pant loud
enough to attract attention. Our fuck had only taken ten minutes; I
glanced nervously over my shoulder and saw a steward's head rapidly
disappear behind the galley curtain. Had he realised what we were up
to? No way of telling, but judging from the slightly awe-struck look
he gave us later, I suspected he had guessed! I wondered how often the
back seat of this cabin was consummated by new members of the "Six
Mile High" club and whether aircrew ever join this club for fun
(considering they have many more opportunities than even us frequent
business travellers). So thinking, I dozed off still clutching Lars
tight in my arms, my deflating cock lying stickily against his leg.
We woke up pantless and trouserless still under our blanket. The
movie had finished, the aircraft was in darkness, we only took a few
minutes to arouse each other to another insatiable frenzy and I soon
had pumped yet another generous load of cum into his willing and
inviting hole. Not being satisfied with basic membership of the "Six
Mile high Club" we had even found time for a second helping.
The cosy space under our blanket reeked of our sexual couplings:
we blotted ourselves with tissues which Lars produced. He wriggled
back into his jeans, I wriggled back into my clothes, while he went to
the loo to tidy himself up. he re-emerged looking immaculate (and
stunning). Breakfast was served, and there was little to say after
this amazing night of passion. Soon the aircraft landed, and we went
our separate ways - he had a connecting flight to catch to Sweden. A
quick handshake and a coy smile as we parted; "till next time!" I went
through immigration and customs in a post-coital daze. Sadly our paths
have not yet crossed again, and if they do, I wonder whether we would
ever achieve such ecstatic feelings as those of two strangers coming
together in such total uninhibited and lustful intimacy in such an im-
possible place?
Any other sexy lads who would like to join the "Six Mile High
Club" are welcome to fly with me - any time! It certainly makes the
flight pass quickly (Caledonian Stewards apply here!).
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