Twink jerks off

It was almost dark. I was lying on my back on a comfortable bed. Somebody
was bathing the side of my head with cold water, which felt really good. My
mouth was dry, and I seemed feverishly hot. Even in my muzzy state, I was
confused about a picture of Robert Redford which seemed to be floating a few
inches above my face. There were other pictures, too, but it was too dark to
see them, or perhaps my eyes wouldn’t focus properly.

Pete’s voice beside me broke in gently, “Thank God you’re all right. I
didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t try to get a doctor because they’d have
asked awkward questions.’

He moved sideways, and I realised that I was on the bed in the back of the
lorry cab. I felt a good deal better, and said so. Pete lifted my head and
gave me a swig of water from a bottle. I swallowed eagerly.

Skinny twink

As we drove along the Belgian motorway, he began to tell me a little about
himself; his upbringing in an orphanage until he was fostered and then
adopted by an elderly couple, his short spell in prison for an idiotic smash
and grab raid which went wrong; his good fortune in getting his present job.
He had a beautiful speaking voice, and sounded better educated than most of
the other drivers. I caught myself fancying him, as I had sometimes in the
past when I saw him stride past the office window.

“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not interested in you,’ I thought to myself,
and thrust from my mind the sudden image of him lying naked on the bed in
his flat. I’d never been there, of course, but people said it was a small,
comfortably furnished place overlooking the park. Hurriedly I hunted for
another topic of conversation to put the disturbing visions from my mind.

twinks fuck

I reached through the curtained area behind the seats and found his
jumper. With great agility he managed to put it on without driving off the
road.

“That’s better, I don’t like having the heater on, it sends me to sleep.
Let’s see if there’s anything good on the radio.’ Loud rock music
forestalled further conversation.

The sun was fully up now, driving the mist from the fields and hedges as
we hurtled along. We stopped once for a cup of tea at a service area.
Several good-looking lorry drivers greeted Pete, glancing curiously at me. I
felt nervous and out of place. They all seemed at ease with each other, but
treated me as an outsider.

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.

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.

“Oh, man, suck my cock…. Yeah! Feels great!”
I was stretched out on my king size bed, one hand propping up my
head, the other pulling Pete’s head down on my throbbing meat. It
was such a turn on, watching Pete’s head with the long, dirty blonde
hair, bobbing up and down on my dick. We were both 28, both gymaholics,
both 6′1″. His body was smooth. Mine was covered with a light coat
of hair. His dick was a sturdy, solid 7″. Mine was a fat, semi-cut
nine inch monster that he loved to suck on. He was gay. I was married
to a woman, but treasured our monthly session together when my wife
was out of town on business. (more…)