Disclaimer: This is an Adam's Gay Reader pulp story (#233) written by Michael Scott. There is no copyright on it, so I wanted to share it with others before it gets lost forever. This story includes sex between adult males. If this is unappealing or illegal in your location, please do not read this story.
*** Please consider supporting Nifty so we can continue to have this great resource of stories to enjoy for a long time to cum! ;-)
-DurtyRiter
Chapter 1: Cruising Altitude
There was a ninety-minute layover in Seattle. When his flight was finally called, Hugh, bored shitless by the delay, quickly got up and stretched. As he did so, his eye was caught by a young guy who was buying a ticket at the counter. Hugh, glancing casually in his direction, did a double-take.
This kid was not as tall as Hugh, but he was a bit more husky. He had a somewhat stocky frame, long brown hair, and a thick mustache. He was traveling in casual clothes--a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off so that his muscular arms were freed, and a pair of faded, almost falling apart jeans.
But Hugh couldn't help noticing that, decrepit as they were, the jeans were very tight, hugging the guy's thighs, crotch, and ass closely. In fact, when Hugh stepped in line behind him to board the plane, he could see that the nearly threadbare seat of those pants was stretched virtually skin-tight across the young stud's round, perfectly-shaped ass cheeks.
He ached to run his hand along the guy's crack and then goose him right in the asshole; but he restrained himself, especially when he saw that the guy had a first-class ticket. Hugh was flying third, so he wouldn't even have the vicarious pleasure of secretly lusting after the guy during the flight. He was probably a rich, spoiled college student going off to Alaska on vacation, to hike and camp out.
Hugh's fantasies about the young number he'd glimpsed in the terminal kept him busy for the first half hour or so of the flight. Only gradually did he realize that the flight was quickly degenerating into an airborne party.
A Texan and his buddies, who'd already been drunk and disorderly on the flight to Seattle, had gotten themselves completely smashed during the layover, and were now busily sucking up the free booze on board, wolf-whistling at the stewardesses and grabbing their asses.
Finally, the pilot flashed on the seatbelt sign to get them to sit down, but they ignored it and got more boisterous than ever. All of this was going on in First Class, but the whole plane knew it.
Hugh's seatmate had gotten into the party spirit and had been downing whiskey steadily since take-off, and now the stewardess wouldn't let him have any more. It was too late, anyway: the guy staggered to the john and threw up, then, still feeling "airsick," had to lie down on a bunk in the galley for the duration of the flight.
He was even more grateful when the young guy he had noticed in the terminal casually walked back into Third Class, carrying a soft drink in his hand. At the sight of him, Hugh's cock began throbbing and his palms grew sweaty. God, there were still a couple of hours to go before the plane landed, but already he was getting horny just from the proximity of another sexy stud!
The other guy caught Hugh's gaze, held it, and laughed. "Oil and alcohol," he said, chuckling and taking a swig of his soft drink. "That's what Alaska runs on. . .hey, is that seat next to you taken?"
"The occupant's puking his guts out," Hugh said. "I don't think he'll be back."
"Thanks. That fucking party up front's getting to be a bit much for me. It's giving me a headache. I'd join in, but I'm not much of a drinker."
As he spoke, the guy slipped into the seat beside Hugh, who stole a quick glance down at his new neighbor's crotch. Hugh saw that his jeans had been patched on both sides of the crotch--and Hugh could easily see why: the guy had a bulge inside there the size of a grapefruit!
Hugh also examined the husky, hard-muscled thighs swelling out from his hips and quickly tried to get a mental picture of him in the nude--and he found the attempt highly arousing!
"Which means I stand out like a sore thumb in Alaska," the guy went on, leaning back in his seat and spreading his legs. "Not being much of a drinker, I mean. That's about all there is to do on the Pipeline--drink and fuck."
Hugh was having trouble keeping his eyes straight ahead. What he desperately wanted to do was to grope the other man's crotch--and that would just be for openers! Then the kid began pulling at his crotch to make himself more comfortable, adjusting the taut denim that strained across his basket quite unselfconsciously, that got Hugh even more excited.
"You work on the Pipeline?" he asked, to distract himself.
"Yeah, I'm a geologist. Is this your first trip to Alaska?" He laughed when Hugh grunted in the affirmative. "I thought so. You've got that kind of lost look about you, man. What are you coming up here for?"
"To find work, hopefully. I'm a welder."
"You're a welder?" He eyed Hugh speculatively. "Shit, you've got nothing to worry about if you're any good at it. If you take this same flight back down one year from today, you're going to need another suitcase, because you're going to be richer by seventy-five or a hundred thousand dollars. That's if you don't blow it all on booze, drugs, and whores, that is." He nodded significantly toward the First Class compartment, where the uproar continued. "Those assholes are all executives with the same oil company I work for."
Hugh wished they'd never get to Anchorage as he and his new acquaintance, whose name was Stewart, talked and got increasingly friendly. Stewart was able to answer a lot of the questions Hugh had about life in Alaska and working on the Pipeline. By the time the plane started its descent, the two men were laughing and joking together like old friends.
"Christ, I can't wait to find a john and take a leak," Stewart blurted out once they were inside the airport, collecting their bags. "I should've gone on the plane, but the john stank of that jerk's vomit."
"I think there's a men's room over there. I have to go, too," Hugh lied, finding this conversation about piss very arousing. He was sure he could squeeze enough piss out of his bladder to justify accompanying Stewart to the john. He desperately wanted to see the other guy's cock and find out if Stewart would be receptive to a sexual pass.
As the two men carried their bags into the men's room, they saw that what looked like every cop in the state of Alaska was there to meet the flight. They thought there'd been an attempted hijacking because of all the trouble on board the plane. The cops were hustling the Texans off to one side of the waiting area, lecturing them, telling them they weren't welcome on that particular airline any more, and offering them a choice between being arrested and being driven to a nearby motel to sleep it off.
Stewart laughed uproariously as he unzipped his jeans in front of one of the urinals. "That's Alaska, too. Some guys up here would rather fight than fuck."
Hugh didn't reply. When he saw what his new buddy had pulled out, he gasped in awe. Stewart's cock had to be a full eight inches long--and not only was it long, it was big and round. It looked like a flesh-colored wax candle sticking out of his fly, and when the hot young geologist began to piss, the urine came out in a thick, forceful yellow stream that steamed as it struck the porcelain basin.
Hugh pulled his dick out, and, to his relief, began urinating too. The sound of both jets of their piss hitting the adjacent urinals turned Hugh on, and he felt his cock begin to swell.
Stewart was casually flipping his dick up and down to empty it completely; Hugh glanced up at his face as he did so, and he smiled hack at Hugh.
Then he finished, expelled a few final squirts of piss, shook the final drops from the enormous head of his cock and stuffed the whole thing hack in his pants. Hugh followed suit, although he wanted to tear the guy's tight jeans off and suck his cock right there in the men's room.
"How about you?" Stewart asked casually.
"What about me?"
"Is there anything you'd rather do than fuck, Hugh?"
Hugh blushed slightly. "Not much," he said, trying to match Stewart's off-hand tone of voice while his heart thumped violently in his chest.
"Where are you staying tonight?"
"I don't know. I'm going to check into some cheap, fleabag motel, I guess."
"Fuck that shit, man. Why don't you share my room with me? I've got a reservation at the Hilton. The company's paying for it. I can even treat you to breakfast in the morning, and they'll write it off as just another business expense. And," he added softly, significantly, "I'd sure enjoy having your company tonight."
When Hugh agreed, and they went to look for a cab, Stewart slapped him on the back in a very rough, masculine way, but left his hand resting against the small of Hugh's back, half-embracing the other man, while they waited for a cab to pull up.
Hugh was sure Stewart wanted more from him than just somebody to talk to, so he didn't feel too badly about not having had the nerve to try to start something back in the men's room. At least he'd had a chance to see the guy's incredible horse cock--and he would probably get to see a lot more of Stewart, if he played his cards right, once they were checked into the same hotel room!
Throughout the cab ride, Stewart sat with his legs spread wide, his thigh rubbing against Hugh's--which, of course, was pure agony for the increasingly horny welder.
The ten-minute cab ride cost ten dollars. As they got out in front of the Hilton, Hugh remarked that it seemed like a lot.
"Oh, bullshit," the driver scoffed, looking at Hugh's welding hood, which he was carrying on his arm since it was too bulky to fit inside a suitcase. "You're a welder, and you're bitching about a ten-dollar cab fare? I'll give you a receipt, you put in a voucher, and the goddamn oil company'll reimburse you. Listen--I'll make it out for fifteen bucks, you give one the ten and a three-dollar tip, and that way you end up making a couple of bucks on the deal."
Stewart laughed as he paid the guy and collected the receipt. "Another thing about Alaska--everybody's on the take," he explained. "Come on, let's check out the room."
It turned out to be large, warm, and luxurious, with a huge double bed. Hugh had to grin at the sight of it.
"I always ask for a double bed when I make a reservation like this," Stewart said apologetically, setting his things down. "In case I get lucky--you know?"
Hugh looked at him. Stewart's heavily muscled body seemed to fill the room with masculine flesh, a heavy bush of dark brown chest hair sticking out of the top of his sweatshirt, the bulge at his crotch and the beautifully shaped mounds of his ass cheeks covered tightly by the worn faded denim of his jeans.
"I think we both got lucky tonight," Hugh breathed. As he spoke, he walked over to Stewart and boldly put his hand on Stewart's ass. For a moment, Stewart just stood there, and Hugh wondered in alarm if he might push his hand away.
But then Stewart moved his butt, almost imperceptibly at first--no more than a nervous twitch--and then he jerked it from side to side, deliberately increasing the pressure, as Hugh kept his hand steady so that Stewart's movement worked his ass crack hack and forth against the warm surface of the welder's open palm.
With his other hand, Hugh grabbed Stewart's crotch and he could already feel the guy's hard cock nestled snugly in the limited space between his husky thighs. As Hugh kept one hand on Stewart's behind and the other on his groin, he pressed his own throbbing basket up against the geologist's hip, pinning it between his thighs and rubbing insistently back and forth.