GENERAL DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexual situations between adult males involving various aspects of the kink and fetish communities. If you find material of this nature offensive then you should not read any further. All characters in this story are over the age of 21. If you are under 18 years old in the US or under 16 in the UK you are not legally allowed to read this story. This is purely a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to any events that may have occurred, are purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by the websites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the author. Nifty does not exist without donations. If you enjoy these stories, please donate here: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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The Brownstone on Union Park
- Chapter Twenty -
Michael pressed the red button on his phone and ended the call and sat down on Carter's unmade bed next to the duffel bag with his gear: one latex soccer uniform complete with matching shirt and shorts, latex socks, rolled up in a towel, a bottle of silicone lube, and a leather harness with black D-ring loop made of soft black lamb's skin.
There was just so much to process and reevaluate about Carter; the initial impressions Michael had formed were still valid but these additional details revealed another dimension of his personality. In some ways, it made him more human to have these kinks. How could anyone be so seemingly perfect, anyway? And more importantly, what was it about a society that made him think that someone had to be vanilla to achieve that exalted status of being sexually normal and mainstream?
Michael breathed in deeply and securely grasped the corners of the bed and closed his eyes. He repeated the breathing exercise a few more times with some long, deep, slow breaths. He opened his eyes and looked at the bag again and firmly zipped it up, got off the bed, and transferred the bag to the ground by the door.
He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out Carter's black fashion jock and brought it up to his face brushing it against his cheek. The smell from being inside his dirty gym bag was quite strong but he enjoyed the aroma of his masculine musk. The desire to bring the used fashion jock closer to his nose and inhale deeply was strong but he stopped short of that and returned it to the pile of clothes in Carter's closet . How could he do this when Carter was so out of reach. It was tantamount to mental torture; he had to focus on something else.
James swiftly walked down the gated entryway to the jet bridge connecting the airport gate to the plane with his black Tumi matching carry-on suitcase and travel backpack. It was important for his travel gear to match and look like the epitome of seamless, yet effortless, perfection. He wore his special Armani black blazer, custom tailored Diesel jeans, and oversized aviator sunglasses. Yes, even though he was indoors and did not need the sun protection, he framed his square face with those iconic Ray-Bans. James learned early on that if he were to shield his identity by masking his eyes, especially in LA, there was always a chance he could be mistaken for a celebrity when he dressed up. And he craved that attention even if it was completely unwarranted.
His hard-soled black Berluti dress shoes clicked audibly on the metal flanking covering the jet bridge that transitioned the descent down the narrow passageway to the plane. The smooth cadence of his stride, along with his travel outfit, made him appear and look like someone that exuded a supreme sense of self-assurance.
He was anything but.
The few other people that were boarding in first class in front of him came to an abrupt halt as the flight crew wheeled another passenger down the jet bridge in a wheelchair. James snorted and rolled his eyes as he realized this random stranger, who clearly did not pay for a first-class ticket, would be getting on the plane before he did. He let out a deep sigh as the invalid old woman was shuttled by him as he performed his nervous habit of sweeping his fingers through his hair from the front to the back. He set his travel backpack down on top of his carry-on on luggage and opened up a pocket to get his noise canceling in-ear headphones. It was going to be nearly a four-hour flight from Los Angeles to New Orleans and there was no way in hell he would listen to the roar of jet engines or bitchy flight attendants for that length of time.
The short line of people began to move again while the flight attendants and airport crew presumably got the woman in the wheelchair settled into her seat near the back of the plane.
"About god-damned time," James thought as he slipped his backpack on one shoulder and grabbed the handle of his carry-on. He swept his fingers through his hair one more time and continued down the bridge.
James finally made his way into the plane doorway and was greeted by the flight crew asking each first-class passenger for their seat number. The couple in front of him was guided to their seat as the male flight attendant helped them place some carry-on items and a light jacket in the overhead bins above their seat. He returned to the front of the plane and greeted James.
"Good morning, sir, and welcome to Eagle Airlines. Do you know what seat you're in today?"
Without saying a word, James flashed his phone at the attendant with the electronic boarding pass showing he was in seat 2B. He was about the same height as James but looked like he could be no older than twenty-five at most. His dark hair was buzzed and had some noticeably high cheekbones and very full red lips.
"Very well then, can I offer to place your carry-on suitcase in the overhead bin for you?"
"Thank you," James replied in a matter-of-fact manner and collapsed the handle into the side of the carry-on and kicked it a few inches forward with his left foot. He took off his glasses to get a better look at the flight attendant and placed the temple arm of his Ray-Bans down the front of crisp blue dress shirt letting the large aviator frames hang on the outside. The flight attendant clearly plucked his eyebrows; there was no natural fading gradation of the brow line as it ended abruptly. He had to be family.
James made his way to seat 2B and stowed the black Tumi backpack underneath the seat in front of him. He took off his blazer and folded it in half and then handed it to the flight attendant for him to add to the overhead bin and then sat down.
"My name is Justin, and I'll be assisting you and the rest of our first-class passengers during today's flight. Before we take off can I offer you a beverage of your choice: beer, wine, coffee, tea, bottled water?"
James pursed his lips, and then asked, "Anything with bubbles?"
"Yes sir, we do have a Domaine Saint Michelle Brut from the Columbia Valley."
"Sorry, I'm not familiar with anything other than legitimate French Champagnes. I'll just do a vodka soda with lime instead. Heavy on the vodka."
"Very well, sir. I'll be back with your drink shortly," Justin replied and walked back to the front of the plane to greet the remaining first-class passengers and get them settled in. James looked back paying special attention to Justin's posterior noting how his glutes seemed to be in amazing shape, perhaps from all that standing while doing his job as a flight attendant.
James pulled out his phone from his backpack and connected a USB cable to the side of the armrest to recharge his phone. He flicked the switch on his wireless headphones to activate the Bluetooth connection and began to drown out the ambient noise around him as the rest of first class boarded. There was always a small chance that someone young, cute, and attractive would be seated next to him. More often than not, it was typically an overweight businessman in a garish pinstriped business suit with a receding hairline that had bad coffee breath.
So far though, the seat next to the window remained empty and given his experience flying first-class, it would be better to have the privacy than sit next to someone else. He looked down at his phone again and tapped the black and orange Grindr app to see if anyone responded to his profile. Someone always did.
His earphones played the iconic Grindr notification chirp, "Da-da-da-DUP!" to alert him to all the message notifications and taps. James tapped the bottom of the app and switch to the local profile view to see what potential new gays might be on this flight. The first profile, after his own, clearly belonged to the flight attendant, Justin. It featured a face pic of him shirtless showcasing a well-defined chest smiling from what was obviously a hotel room with an amazing view in the background.
James tapped the picture again to bring up the profile stats. Height: 5'11", Ethnicity: White, Body Type: Average.
"Well `gay' average, perhaps," James thought. In the straight world, this guy would be considered in amazing shape by the simple reality of him being slightly muscular and at a healthy body weight.
His profile continued: Gender: Man, Pronouns: He/Him/His, Position: Versatile.
"Position versatile? Clearly a bottom else he would have said otherwise," he reasoned, "The gay world seemed to be facing a crisis of tops going extinct in this stressed out society. If you're really a top, you'd proudly advertise it."
He stopped to think for a moment, "What a great profession to be in if you're young, gay, and attractive. You literally fly all over the world and have the potential to hook up with a countless number of guys."
Justin returned to seat 2B with a vodka soda with a wedge of lime on the glass rim. No plastic cups, this was first-class after all. He gingerly unfolded the tray table and proceeded to gently place the glass on top of a cocktail napkin.
"Can I get you anything else, sir?"
James turned off the noise canceling feature for a moment and looked at Justin up and down in more detail this time and thought to himself, "Yes, you in the bathroom ten minutes after take-off," and then actually responded, "All set at the moment."
"We'll be serving some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and a selection of other warmed pastries shortly after take-off. There's also a full menu in the seat pocket in front of you if are interested in lunch on board the flight today."
"Oh, I'm fine, I won't be doing any carbs today," James replied and took another drink of his vodka soda not realizing alcohol from the vodka was, in fact, a type of carbohydrate.
"Well, at Eagle Airlines, we aim for the sky. Don't hesitate to ask for anything that will make your experience flying with us more comfortable," Justin replied with a cheerful smirk and disappeared into the galley-way near the front of the plane behind the bulkhead.
James opened up his music on his phone and began to search for something relaxing from his preset stations. He scrolled through a couple of different options before landing on the Sade station; it would do nicely. He pulled out from his pants pocket a blue circular pill with a "K" hollowed out in the center--the classic one milligram Klonopin, a frequent flyers best friend. He popped it in his mouth and swallowed another sip of his vodka soda to supercharge its relaxing and sedative effects.
More passengers began to cycle through the aisle way as they began the regular boarding process. James crossed his right leg over his left and turned up the volume a bit more to drown out the chaotic bullshit of all the coach passengers. It seemed like everyone in this day and age was so much more uptight and stressed out when it came to flying. Not many people checked their bags any longer given there was an extra charge for it; overhead space became a luxury and it often ran out. James stopped flying coach when he started flying for work, and when he made it to the associate director level they bumped him up to business and first class for flights longer than three hours. Now, he could actually afford to fly first class, at least domestically.
He breathed in heavily and out slowly while closing his eyes as the Klonopin began to work its magic. It could have just been the placebo effect, or possibly the vodka, but his anxiety level began to drop sharply. More passengers shuffled along dressed in hideous clothing and other tasteless outfits by his standards. James craned his neck to the right while placing his left hand on his chin in a judging manner and watched the people parade advance further down the plane. Half of the fun of flying first class was watching each person pass you by and descend further to the back of the flight. With each body moving by he thought, "There's a reason why you're back there and I'm up here. The universe has a reason for sorting us out like this."
James continued to watch the middle-class parade strut down the aisle, some with big open eyes, like flying was a big deal or a once-every-few-years type of event. The alcohol and Klonopin began to relax his inhibitions even more and he thought to himself, "Fucking amateurs..."
An older large rotund woman and her presumed husband of similar dimension began to waddle down the aisle. These people looked like rejects from a Far Side comic.
"Better than you and you," he thought to himself as his eyes flashed up and down their outfits.
A skater guy that appeared as though he just came in from Venice Beach with oily and tangled dirty blonde dreads passed him by.
"Better than you."
A mother holding the hands of her two snot-nosed little girls, one in the front and the other behind her, wearing matching pink backpacks made their way down the aisle.
"Better than you and you and you."
The people parade continued but quickly became depressing and James turned his neck to the left and looked out over the empty seat next to him and the plane window. The sunny and warm LA weather always made him sad to leave it behind. At least this time he was flying to New Orleans instead of Boston where the seasons were just starting to turn. He took another drink of his vodka soda and began to feel a little dizzy as he started to fall asleep.
James groggily opened his eyes and swallowed hard as he began to wake up feeling a bit dehydrated but otherwise did not feel too bad. He pressed the infotainment button on the touchscreen in front of him to bring up the plane map. How long was he actually out for?
The airplane icon on the screen showed they had already passed the California border and were somewhere south of Phoenix. At most he could have only been out for an hour. Feeling thirstier then ever he hit the overhead call button to get a flight attendant's attention. Within moments, Justin appeared at James' side and crouched over slightly with a pleasant smile.
"And how many I help you, sir?" Justin politely asked as James removed the headphones from his ears.
"I must have dozed off before. Can you get me a bottled water and a glass of ice? I'm feeling a bit parched," James responded while holding the tips of his fingers on side of his forehead, "And I think I'm getting a headache, do you have any aspirin on board?"
"I believe so, let me see what I can find in our onboard medical kit."
Justin disappeared behind the bulkhead to carry out the request. James looked around the first-class cabin and noted the seat next to him remained empty. "Well, that's something..." he thought and pulled his backpack from underneath the seat in front and placed it on the empty seat to his left and began to rifle through the contents in the back zippered area. If there was not an aspirin to be found on board the plane he clearly would have something else for sure.
Another moment later and Justin returned with a square bottle of Fiji water, a glass cup of chipped ice, and a small disposable paper cup with two Advil inside.
"Here you are, sir," Justin began as he skillfully lowered the tray table with one hand and placed the items in front him.
James looked at the bottle of Fiji water with the blue cap still securely in place.
"I don't suppose that bottle is going to pour itself into the glass..." James noted with a slight sense of displeasure as he raised his eyebrows.
"Of course," Justin replied and unscrewed the blue cap and poured half the bottle into the glass with the chipped ice, "We also did a fruit and cheese service about twenty minutes ago when you were sleeping. Can I prepare you a small plate?"
Perhaps it was the lack of inhibition from the drugs and alcohol or the fact that James did not have the opportunity to get off in the past twenty-four hours, but Justin was getting more physically attractive by the minute.
"Sure, why not," responded James and he began to chug the ice water with the two Advils from the paper cup.
Justin disappeared yet again while he drank the remainder of the ice water in his glass and sucked out an ice chip with the final gulp, slamming the near empty glass down on the tray table. James used his tongue to move the ice chip around his mouth from one side to the other tracing the path of coldness from the left side of his cheek to the roof of his mouth and then to the right side. It began to shrink in size as the refreshing coldness permeated his orifice.
"God, I could really use a blow-job right about now," he thought and then decided to get up.
James unbuckled his belt, got up from his plush leather seat and began to stretch. He walked down a few rows to the end of the first-class cabin noticing that the semitransparent blue curtain separating the first-class cabin from the premium economy section was slightly ajar. He moved quickly and closed the curtain all the way with a quick swipe while shaking his head.
"There's a curtain there for a purpose, after all," he reasoned and walked back to his seat and picked up the glass with the ice chips in it and continued down the aisle until he walked past the bulkhead row in an attempt to find Justin.
"Oh, hello sir, I was just about to bring you the fresh fruit and cheese platter," Justin explained while looking at the empty glass in James' right hand, "Can I also get you another vodka soda?"
"Sure, whatever..." James replied now struggling to make eye contact with him, "But actually I was wondering..." he trailed off again and swept his fingers through his hair from the front to the back of his head.
Justin stopped cutting up the skinned kiwi for the fruit platter as his eyes widened with heightened interest.
"I was wondering..." James began again and placed the glass down on the counter.
Justin got closer to him and delicately pulled the curtain closed giving the two of them some privacy from the rest of the passengers in the first-class cabin effectively sealing off the galley and first-class bathroom.
Justin restarted the conversation walking a few inches closer with each breath, "At Eagle Airlines, we aim for the sky, just tell me what you would like sir, I'm sure I'll be able to accommodate any need you have."
The devilish grin on Justin's face was the last bit of consensual evidence he needed to make the ask, "I think I'll need some help in the restroom if you could assist me," James responded and turned around to find the latch on the door.
Justin eagerly followed him into the first-class bathroom that was noticeably larger than the shoebox restrooms in coach. It contained a small bouquet of fresh cut flowers affixed to the wall along with a small selection of soap and lotion dispensers built into the sink area. The lighting overhead was a bit bright from the blue LED strip lights built into the ceiling, but these changed to a softer warmer yellow-white light when the door closed behind the two of them and Justin locked the latch shut.
James moved closer to the flight attendant and whispered to him, "By the way, my name is James, although I think it's kind of hot when you refer to me as, sir."
Justin smiled a bit and got closer to James' face while the smell of the vodka from the start of the flight overpowered his own minty breath. But it did not matter, they were both eager to be intimate.
James initiated the first deep kiss and began to wrap his arms around Justin's back, caressing the back of his hair with his hands as they trailed down his body. He moved his right hand down his arm and brought Justin's hand to feel his own crotch letting him know he was already hard from the first few kisses.
Justin paused for a moment and whispered, "Is there something you would like me to help you with, sir?"
"Sir... Haha, love it! Well, yes actually," James replied and stepped back a bit and placed both hands on Justin's shoulders. He applied a slight amount of pressure indicating for him to get on his knees.
"Of course, sir," Justin responded and started to unbuckle James' belt and jeans pulling them down around his knees.
James actually helped out a bit and began to peel off his CK black hip briefs down below his waist. He was visibly hard at this point and his cock glistened with a bit of precum near the tip.
Justin opened wide and surrounded James' dick with his full red lips and started to move back and forth with increasing speed paying special attention not to get any teeth.
"Oh fuck, that feels good," James said as he used Justin's shoulders to steady his stance in the airplane bathroom.
Justin continued to pump back and forth while he moved his hands from the sides of James' legs to his ass cheeks.
The plane lurched suddenly from some turbulence and Justin momentarily stopped to apologize, "Sorry about the teeth, it's probably just some turbulence."
"It's fine, you're doing an amazing job," James reminded him.
Justin was about to go in again when the plane jostled them both to the side of the wall and the turbulence returned. They both steadied themselves when the seatbelt sign illuminated inside the bathroom. The turbulence continued to get worse causing James to fall backward onto the opened toilet seat.
"Look, maybe we can continue this after we land but I have to get back to the main cabin and do our safety seatbelt checks."
"Damn it," James protested, "but I understand."
Justin got up on his feet and began to turn around when the plane lurched again causing him to nearly fall on top of James. His hand hit the back wall and slid down the side causing him to ironically have a hand on top of James' shoulder now. The turbulence continued jostling them up and down with James still on top of the toilet seat. One more turbulent air bubble in the jet stream firmly wedged his ass snuggly on the inner loop of the seat.
"You alright?" Justin asked with genuine concern raising his eyebrows in sympathy.
"Yeah, my ass is stuck though. Can you give me hand?" James pleaded.
"Of course," Justin replied when another turbulent gust from the jet stream caused his hand to slip from James's shoulder to the side of the wall inadvertently activating the flush button.
"OH MY GOD, IT'S FLUSHING!!!" James screamed in horror.