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My email is mikedave01@yahoo.com. I answer all emails, so don't hesitate to contact me. In fact, I'm now giving "love" advice to several readers of my last story about Brian ("Find Your Happiness" in adult friends). And yes, I did meet Brian finally, who was a fan for years of my stories and wrote that out. This story is autobiographical. It all happened as told below. I just updated the ending to the present day.
What Really Happened?
This story is for J.D., Larry, and N. Love my fans! And thanks for the dinner in Denver!
Shit. It was another one of those days. I got to LaGuardia in NYC barely on time. Stupid shared shuttle van... Got to the American gate only to find that the flight was slightly delayed. Wouldn't make any difference. I had enough time in O'Hare in Chicago to still make my flight to Minneapolis. Relieved, I decided to relieve myself in the men's bathroom adjacent. Grin.
Being an unhappily married man I always am on the lookout for good-looking men whenever I travel out of town. I don't get to play around much. That makes the few times I do play all the more enjoyable!
I did my business in the stalls but lingered a bit. I knew I had some time still. I went up to the urinals and took my cock out and pretended to pee again. Very soon another man came up to me and took the urinal right next to mine. There were other urinals free. Damn, was I being perved on? I looked over and looked up. There was this gorgeous older man leering at me! My heart did a leap. Wow. My height, gray hair, moustache, beautiful face, dressed in a uniform... Plump cock out begging me to touch it... He reached over and grabbed my cock, making it instantly hard. "Nice" he said. I grabbed his and it became thick and hard in my hand. We jacked each other for a couple of minutes but new arrivals at the urinals made us let go and move away from each other. No need to be arrested for public indecency.
He motioned me to come outside of the bathroom. I followed him, noticing that his uniform wasn't that of a pilot. He had on a dress shirt, tie, and shorts. His shorts showed off his long, tanned legs. His shirt accented his broad shoulders and manly chest. His black eyebrows and dark eyes and somewhat swarthy complexion completed the picture. This was one seriously hot man, exuding masculinity. I felt young and "callow" with my dark red hair, thin body, and suit.
He led me down a little used corridor and then turned around, grabbed me and took me into his arms in a quick hug. My cock reacted immediately and tried to escape my pants and get into his shorts! Grin.
I think I must have moaned, because when he released me he had a big smile on his handsome face.
He looked at me searchingly and then spoke. "What are you flying?" he asked. I didn't understand. I wanted to fly him. What was I flying? A broomstick? Finally, I got it. "American", I answered. "Good", he said. And why did he say that? "Chicago?" he asked? I nodded and said, "and then Minneapolis".
"Where do you live", he asked? "Long Island", I answered. "Suffolk County." "Good" he said again. "I'm in Nassau". "You're married?" he asked. I nodded. "Good", he said for the third time.
He looked hard at me again. He took out a pen and piece of paper from his pocket. He leaned up against the corridor wall and wrote something on the paper. He handed the paper to me.
"Here's my home phone number in Nassau. Call me when you get back if you want to see me again. If you don't call no problem... But I want to see you again." He leered a bit again and I guess I blushed. Damn redheaded genes. I mean, this man was so hot and I wanted to strip him out of those tight shorts and go after his big cock right there!
He smiled as if he was reading my mind. "And you're flying first class". What? I thought. I'm just a poor professor. I have never flown first class. I'm just grateful to have my University pay for basic travel and lodging at conferences.
He beckoned me to follow him again. In a daze, I followed him, admiring his big shoulders, tight waist, hot butt, and long legs. We went up to the American counter for my flight to O'Hare. He went up to the ticket agent at the desk and spoke rapidly, but in a low voice, to her. He then came up to me. "Give me your boarding pass", he demanded. How could I say no to this wet dream come true? I didn't say a word, but reached into my suit jacket, pulled out my boarding pass and handed it over. He winked at me then. He WINKED at me? He took my pass back up to the counter and had some more words with the agent. He looked satisfied and came back up to me.
"Here's your new pass and new seat", he said. He handed me a new boarding pass. He looked at me one more time. "Do you have my number?" he asked. Still dazed, I nodded yes and patted my suit jacket pocket to show him that I had it and knew where it was. He looked satisfied. "I have to go back to work. Call me when you get back." I nodded yes one more time. With a last look, he nodded, too, and then walked rapidly away to another part of the airport.
I suddenly felt lost and alone. What had just happened here? How could the last ten minutes have so totally upset me? I felt like the world had turned upside down. Who was this man and how could he have had such an effect on me?
I decided I had better sit down.
Boarding started within minutes of my sitting down. I sat there for a while and finally roused myself when I realized there weren't many people left in the terminal. I gathered what I could of myself and made my way past the agent checking the boarding passes and down the runway to the plane. I entered the plane and realized I had no idea of where my seat was. I looked down at the pass and saw it had a low number. Weird. 3-B? I looked at the seat numbers after getting on the plane and saw 3-B almost immediately. 3-B? That can't be my seat. That's in first class! I guess I looked confused and lost since the stewardess approached me and took my boarding pass from my hand. She then motioned to the 3-B seat and asked me to take my seat.
Totally dazed I sat down. Wow, a leather seat that was huge and wide. Lots of legroom... Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow. My new friend had told me the truth when he said I'd be flying first class. I didn't follow him then and now finally realized that he meant what he said! I guess I started to smile. I guess my smile split my face open in a huge grin. I finally realized the woman next to me was smiling right back at me. "First time in First Class?" she said in a lovely Scottish accent. I nodded yes, at a loss for words, still. "My second", she said. "Let's have some champagne to celebrate." And we did.
She was lovely. Life was beautiful. I was drunk. And who was this fucking gorgeous mystery man who had turned my life upside down?
I managed to change planes in Chicago and sobered up by the time I got to Minneapolis. I was there for a conference and was staying with a lesbian couple I had gotten to know previously. And were they lovely and wonderful! So gracious to me. I fell in "love" with them both. I helped as much as I could with their house, gardening, and cleaning. As an aside, one of the weird things over the years is that I tend to "love" all the lesbian women I meet. All the lesbians I meet are top notch people. Anyway.
Conference was ok but not one I'd ever go back to. And then one night I asked to borrow their ancient Toyota pickup truck to go up to the northern suburbs. Was glad I had driven my older brother's similar truck (although his was new when I drove it). 5 speed manual transmission with huge gaps between the gears... Yeah. Memories came flooding back when I started up the mini truck. I managed to get onto the Interstate and then followed printed out directions 20 miles north.
After a few missed turns and disbelief at where I was going, I pulled into the drive of a Mac Mansion in my ancient pickup truck. I wanted to hide the truck from the neighbors, but settled for parking in the depths of the driveway. Trembling a bit I rang the doorbell.
Within a minute this very big guy, dressed in black wrestling trunks and jacket answered the door and ushered me inside!
I'm not a small guy. I'm 6 feet and was around 170 pounds then. But this guy was at least 6'3 and 250. He was big and sort of hot actually. Hairy chest and gut that I could see through his open jacket... Sexy trunks. I started to get hard, despite myself.
He made me feel at home in his palatial surroundings. Eventually we went up to his attic where he had a full wrestling ring! Having had a wrestling fetish since I was 5 years old and having wanted to wrestle in a ring my entire life, I was in heaven! We watched some 50's and 60's wrestling videos and he explained how he liked to wrestle. I had never wrestled pro before, much less in a real ring. I had only done submission wrestling that often seemed like life and death wrestling. He took me into the ring and showed me how to do pro moves. He showed me how to jump when there was a cue so that he could pick me up without straining his back. He showed me how he could slam me and make it look like I was going to have a severe neck injury. He showed me how to "airplane" me. I was falling in love again. Grin.
Finally he left me alone with white trunks and a white mask to put on. I was getting hard again. And I have a very big cock that is impossible to hide. I'm the jobber in white and I know who the heel in black will be.
We finally met in the ring, masked, and rassled. To be honest, I was so turned on I couldn't focus and didn't wrestle well. I kept on trying to do submission instead of pro. Kept on trying to move very fast instead of slowly and telegraphing my moves. However, he did pick me up a couple of times, did the airplane move, and slammed me to the mats. I tried to act as if I were in pain. That amused him!
But we stopped soon. He knew I was too turned on. Still one of the hottest things I've ever done.
We went downstairs and he turned on his hot tub. Another first for me. We got into the hot tub naked and spent some time exploring each other's body. He had a pretty small cock attached to his big body. But still very nice. We talked a lot. He was actually a doctor who had sports medicine as his practice. He talked about the hot athlete high school guys he had in his office who had to strip for him. I couldn't imagine how he could deal with that. He laughed.
At some point we both played with each other and came. We cuddled each other a lot. We kissed a lot. At one point he said, "Where have you been my whole life? I'm so ready to pick out china with you." I cried a bit. He saw that and knew my story. I eventually left and cried some more. I've never seen him again, but he wrote to say he had gained 100 pounds (!) and could no longer wrestle. But he had a guy taking care of him.
Back on Long Island, I called my mystery guy, of course. I had to give up my Minnesota Dad. I was hoping my New York Dad would be mine. Turns out he was of southern Italian descent but with a Middle Eastern last name. He eventually decided that we loved each other but were not in love with each other. After some effort I was finally OK with that. And I call him Daddy to this day. He calls me Son. The sex we've had together and with up to three other people with us (safe, though!) is mind blowing.
It's been close to twenty years since we met and we still love each other as "Dad" and "Son", although once I said that it appears I had a thing for handsome older men. He smiled and said, "So do I!". I chortled remembering that we are only ten years apart in age.
I'll love my Dad forever.
And I do. I met him again and his live-in lover in 2017 when my flight from Europe to the American South stopped in NYC at Laguardia and then a thunderstorm created havoc and my flight to the South was canceled. I spent a miserable night on the floor of the airport, but got to see Dad and his lover the next afternoon for pizza in Nassau County and sexual fun. Dad offered me a spot in a permanent threesome with the two of them. Maybe when I retire?
Love and (virtual) hugs to all my readers. mikedave01@yahoo.com