In the air : Part 1

The plane was full. Getting down the aisle to my seat took no less than fifteen minutes.

Everyone loading carry-ons into the overheads. Finally I reached my row: 30. I heaved my bag into the compartment and slammed it shut. In one of those simultaneous moments I collapsed into my seat as my eyes seized upon my aisle partner and my heart fluttered and my breath ceased. The window light outlined a profile of the purest white skin, a slender nose whose nostrils fluttered in a shimmering pink, a well taut cheek, recently and smoothly shaved of its blond beard; loose yellow curls that crowned a broad brow and danced over the ridge of a delicate coral ear tapering to a dense "v" that hid its limit beneath a loose fitting navy polo.

Beautifully buckled arms tinged in golden threads revealed themselves from the short sleeves. Long fingers , pink and well trimmed nails, interlocked upon a khaki shorts lap and led the eye to well squared knees and then downward to oval calves and pointed ankles that ended in long tapering feet whose clean and flawless toes nestled within sandals of the slightest straps. Even before my ass reached the seat, my cock was swollen hard, stiff and uncomfortable. I reached for the seat belt. He turned. His eyes met mine, then fell to my crotch. He saw. He knew.

It was a short flight. Boston to New York. But this flight was going to be interminable. I felt hot all over. Unbearable. Uncomfortable. Almost in pain. He looked continually out the window. I looked continually at him: his arms, his legs, his feet, his gentle fingers. Did he feel my eyes on him?

And then, --- and then --- he began to fidget. He began to reset himself in his seat. He unclipped his seat belt, rose slightly and pulled at his shorts in a certain effort to reset his balls. Then, (was I imagining) his fingers slipped up his shorts and began to fidget inside. He still looked out the window. Now, his hand pushed up his shorts. Pushed them up into his groin. His balls were in his palm. Visible. A flick of his finger, his dick flipped out against his thigh.

His dick: thick and long and white and pink and arching in vain against his shorts to rise upward. He turned. He looked directly into my eyes. At the same time his right knee moved against my left. How quickly was it that my left hand reached across to seize him. Soft, of so ever soft and hot: throbbing with heat. Just as quickly, thrust away my hand, he pulled his shorts back down and recomposed himself. He turned back to staring out the window. My pants were wet with my cum.

Landing. Hide my crotch with my carry on. I exited quickly without looking back.