Gay Erotic Stories

This story it totally TRUE, with only a few frills of poetic license. I have done a lot of traveling, and I have heard a lot about the Mile High Club. Initially, I was never quite sure how much of it to believe, since most of the tales revolved around a hostess who would prop herself up in the little cramped lavatories to make her pussy available to someone. The rites of initiation. The anecdotes of sex in the cockpit were also apocryphal. Even the term cockpit made it sound as though getting naked on an airplane is something that happens every day. As an international traveler, I knew that most all of those stories are nothing more than titillating bullshit. But I will also tell you that I am now a member of the Mile High Club, and that is no bullshit. The really long flights are never much fun. London to Buenos Aires. Or to Sydney. Jakarta. The flights that take so many hours are so very tiresome. On those long flights, I always booked myself into First Class or Business Class, the hell with the expense (it was on the company account anyway), since the travel itself was stress on the physical body. I frequently took a flight from London to Johannesburg, one of those that takes forever; deceptive in time since you are in the same time zone for most all of the same trip, just traveling from north to south, unlike traveling east to west or west to east. When I checked in at Heathrow, a little later than I should have done, I was told by the sweetly smiling clerk that there was overbooking, and she would have to confirm my seating if I would wait in the lounge. And shortly, she bounced in to tell me that my seat was confirmed. We were flying a modified stretch 747, and this one still had the little upper lounge that was in the dome of the front of the airliner. I would be the only passenger up there, and I had the choice of taking that seat or waiting for another flight. Hell, that was just fine with me! And we boarded. There were only a couple of seats up in the lounge, with all the rest of the fittings having been removed for whatever reason. Just a few seats were left there. It was amusing fun to have my own room on an airliner. I was well looked after. The stewardesses made sure that I had plenty of drink (bottles of wine were left for my use), and food, and all the comforts that they could provide. I was content, though bored with the isolation. However, several hours into the flight, the handsome and smiling face of the Captain appeared in the spiral staircase, coming my way. He sat in the seat next to me. We chatted a bit, and he told me that he was taking his sleep shift, so that he would be rested for the later flying chores. He was a most charming companion, extremely good looking, and the quintessential image of the pilot with graying temples and a movie star white smile. Eventually, he cut the conversation and made himself more comfortable in the reclining seat by padding it with blankets and pillows. He removed his tie, and his shoes, and undid his belt and trousers, unzipping all the way down. He knew I was watching him, and he explained himself very matter of factly, that he was loosening any restricting articles of clothing to avoid the discomfort of swelling, and suggested I do the same if I were going to sleep. I did intend to sleep, of course. I followed suit, feeling a bit naughty in the process, getting partially undressed right next to this hunk. The lights were down, the shades were drawn, and the upper cabin of the 747 was dark and quiet with just the drone of the engines. I did sleep a bit, and when I awoke, I was aware that my pilot friend was still sleeping deeply in the seat next to me. I retrieved the bottle of wine that the stewardess had left for me, and was sipping wine and amusing myself by watching the pilot’s even breathing, when the blanket across his mid-section shifted and fell away. Sometimes you just cannot help where your eyes stray and where they land. Mine strayed to his mid-section and landed on the obvious bulge in his jockey shorts. He was in an even breathing pattern of slumber, and his dick had crept outside his shorts and down his leg as he slept. A hard woody on the sleeping beauty! I was riveted to it, and could not look away. He was the unknowing exhibitionist and I was the lucky voyeur. In his sleep, his hands drifted towards his genitals, involuntarily, or on demand to a dream, and he began to fondle his hard-on, and rub his balls through the fabric. I gotta tell ya’, it was a fuckin’ turn-on! He began twitching and jerking and his sleep seemed to be disturbed as he played with himself a bit and his cock was throbbing and twitching in a very demanding manner. He woke with a start, and seemed to have to re-orient himself momentarily in the darkened cabin. Groggy with sleep, he stroked himself a few more times, then seemed to realize just where he was, and realized my presence. He was now wide awake as he looked at me and smiled a broad smile. “I guess I have been giving quite a show,” he drawled in his British accent. “I’m sorry about that.” He was stuffing his hard-on down into his shorts and into his trousers, and it was fighting back with him, but he eventually got it placed where he wanted. Still bulging. I smiled back, and said “Hey, no apology necessary.” Then as an afterthought, I threw in the honest statement, “I was kind of enjoying it actually. I was just waiting to see you blast-off.” He smiled that broad smile at me again, and said, “Well, we like for our customers to be satisfied on this airline,” and he reached in to his jockeys and pulled his cock out, displaying it quite prominently in his hand with a very appropriate and worthy amount of pride. He “presented” it to me for viewing. I appraised it. I put my hand around it with no objection from him at all, and he moaned softly and pulled the blanket over himself, I suppose to ensure that we would not be seen by any intruding stewardess. Clumsily, he reached over into my crotch and found my firm bulge, and I helped him get to it by unzipping and freeing my own cock for him to fondle and grope. We sat that way for some time, just quietly and discreetly jacking each other, when without warning, he arched his back and blew his load into the covering blanket, though I did pull it back in time to see my hand pumping the last few spurts as he finished his orgasm. He was immediately in control of himself, and had himself cleaned and fully dressed and checking his pristine appearance while I was still savoring the heavy breathing of the intimate experience. He smiled again at me, mumbled some words about really enjoying himself, and disappeared down the spiral staircase. I was disappointed that he had to go, and with his absence, I lost my hard-on, and also got myself presentable with a bit of washing up in the loo. Timely, since a stewardess appeared, as if on cue to ensure that I was content. Yes, very content, I told her, but I did not tell her that I sure could use some more of the Captain up here, to complete the jack-job that he had started. She spent a bit of time chatting, but finally decided that she was an intrusion to my space, and disappeared. Settling down for another nap, I snapped to a wide-awake as another handsome male slid into the seat next to me. He introduced himself as the co-pilot, who was there for his rest period, having been relieved by the Captain. He did not say much, but followed the same ritual as the Captain, by loosening all of the strictures on his body, including the belt and unzipping his fly before spreading the blanket over himself. He closed his eyes and seemed to be heading off to sleep when I felt the very unmistakable pressure of his knee against mine. After the surprise encounter with the Captain, I was not expecting lightning to strike twice, but it seemed to be so, electrifyingly so. I returned the pressure, and it just kept getting stronger. He raised his head slightly and opened his eyes slightly, and asked in a low voice: “The Cap’n said there might be some unfinished business here, is that right? Or has it been taken care of?” I nudged his knee firmly, and replied that I had “…business still waiting to be finished off.” He growled a lusty “awwwwrrrright!” and our hands each went for the other’s nether regions. We were both rock solid hard. With his hand firmly wrapped around my cock, he let out a soft whistle and whispered, “Man, the Captain was right about you: that is one helluva pretty piece of meat!” and he fondled it with gentle stroking with both hands. He unfastened his seat belt, and moved to the floor between my legs on his knees, never taking his eyes or his hands off of my dick. “Pretty prick, a really pretty one,” he purred, as he bent his head over and slid my pretty prick all the way to the back of his throat, easily and with obvious skill. He spent a long time there before he came up for air, looked at me directly in the eye, and softly begged “…don’t cum for a long time, please don’t. Let me worship this…” and I purred a soft agreement. He had gotten my trousers down to my ankles and my jockey shorts were twisted somewhere below my knees, but his access to my crotch was unfettered in any way. When he was not licking my balls, he was teasing the cockhead, sucking me, licking my shaft, doing all that a mouth can do to a dick, and my pubic hair seemed to be totally wet from his ministrations. When I felt that I could take no more of the pleasuring punishment of holding off, I told him that I needed to blow, and he quickly changed his modus operandi. He pulled on my ball sac quickly and just a little too hard. I winced, and he knew that I had quickly lost the temptation to lose control, and he was right. He stood up then, and standing in front of me, he presented his dick for me to admire and to suck. And I did want to suck him. Bad. He wanted it just as much as I did. I glued my lips around his cock, and he face-fucked me furiously, and he did not pull off nor did he tell me when he needed to release his load. He just kept the rhythm of his gyrating hips and spurting protein in synchronization together until he was totally drained. He finally pulled out, when he had no more to give and the blood was draining from his dick as it returned to a more relaxed status. I was enjoying it all, of course, but also was feeling that this might be another “cum and run” scene, as it had been with the Captain, and I was still holding a churning load of unfinished business. I was relieved when he sank to his knees and went straight for it, but was also distracted immediately by the sound of the heels of the stewardess on her way up the metal staircase. He was up and into the lavatory within an instant, while I was left scrambling for the blanket to provide some modesty for myself. Luckily, and since the cabin was darkened anyway, she likely saw nothing. She busied herself with tidying up the area, and my partner eventually emerged from the lavatory, looking all fresh and as content as the cat that swallowed the canary. He had not yet swallowed anything of mine, however, and I wanted him to swallow me. She eventually left us alone when he complained that he needed to get some rest. She flirted with him one more time, arranged the blanket over him lovingly, and heels clicked on the metal staircase as she descended. The last click had not yet lost its echo, however, before he was on his knees in front of me one more time. I was just as determined to finish the unfinished business as he was determined to finish it and I was blowing my load furiously with very little additional encouragement from his talented mouth. If the plane was bumping, it was not from turbulence, it was from the wracking and wrenching of my violent blasting. When we were settled down again a short time later, I looked at him and asked, “Am I now a member of the Mile High club?” He laughed out loud. “Sure you are,” he said, “and we would like very much for you to attend a member’s meeting tonight at the Hilton in Sandtown. The Captain and I are sharing a room, and we are having a meeting of new initiates.” I readily agreed, and asked out of curiosity who else would be there. He smiled, and said “Just you, me, and the Captain!” I made the meeting that night. And yes, the story is true, and I do regard myself as a full-fledged member of the Mile High Club. Other members may contact me at my e-mail to discuss some of the other club activities!