Screwing Boy on Flight to New York with My Throbbing Cock

As a frequent jetsetter, I have for long fantasized about this exclusive club, which in reality probably has few authentic members who have genuinely screwed their way through the stratosphere. How can you manage to have-it-away on board a crowded airliner? Well recently I succeeded and how! This amazing experience happened on the top deck of a BA 747 heading out of New York for Heathrow, with a beautiful boy I had never met before.

I had had a hectic day getting my work completed before flying out, got to the airport late, and consequently was glad to have got through the airport hassle and slump into my Club Class seat. The top deck of the 747 has a small cabin which some airlines use for first class passengers, but many including BA, use for Business Class; there are only 20 or 30 seats, which gives you the feeling of being in a small, but spacious airliner. The top deck is reached via a spiral staircase and you travel cut off from the masses on the main deck below. This flight, luckily, was fairly empty so I was fortunate that through the lottery of seat allocations, Lars, as he turned out to be named, took up the aisle seat corresponding to my window seat and nobody else got seated either between us or in the row on the other side of the aisle.

Lars was slim and blond, about 25 I guessed, (rightly as it turned out), and clearly well endowed in all the important places. He had remarkably light blue eyes and was obviously in some form of business, as he had a small patent leather brief case and when he took his coat off he was smartly dressed in a cotton shirt and white jeans which showed his firm, well-shaped figure to good effect. I found out later that he was Swedish, a junior salesman for an internationally known cosmetics company, who at short notice had been given a lucky break to substitute for his boss on a business trip to the USA. His firm buttocks thrust out firmly through his thin white denim jeans as he arched his back to remove his coat and hand it to the stewardess. The jeans were very tight and showed his well shaped legs to advantage. But he also radiated something sensual which aroused the first slight stirrings in my crotch. I realised I was feeling quite horny and in the mood for conquest, but not in my wildest dreams did I guess what delights were to follow!

He looked nervous and fidgeted when he sat down; he very readily started chatting. I needn't bore you with the contents of our chat, except that I soon persuaded him to move next to me from his aisle seat, so we could talk easier. He was obviously a bit scared of flying. It transpired this was only his second long distance flight. Soon after take-off we hit some unusually bumpy weather; the seat belt signs came on and Lars wrung his hands and looked scared. Naturally I put my arm on his thigh to comfort his and he leant his soft, perfumed blond hair against my shoulder and visibly relaxed. The 747 flew out of the turbulence but I was glad to find he showed no sign of wanting me to take my hand away. The meal on a tray came and went and I felt really strong stirrings in my pants when he snuggled back against me, until recently a complete stranger. The stewardess brought the drinks trolley and I persuaded Lars to have a double gin with a bit of tonic which visibly relaxed him some more.

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He snuggled closer and reminded me of a purring cat. British Airways, ever cooperative, chose that moment to dim the lights and to start the in flight movie. I started taking a few liberties with where I moved my hands, aided by the semi-darkness, but half expecting to be rebuffed as, after all, I was fondling a fella who until a few minutes earlier had been a total stranger this was too good to be true! But I could not help noticing signs that my efforts were stirring up his hormones; his face looked flushed, his eyes were soft and his pupils large. My left hand closed over his left thigh. He made no effort to discourage me, so I gradually eased my hand into a position where I could massage the slight mound of his crutch straining through the material of his jeans. By now, I felt rampant; my trousers bulged as if they would burst and I began to wonder if we could satisfy our wildly growing passions.

He snuggled closer and started stroking my leg in an absent minded kind of way, fairly innocently near my knee. The arm of the seat was getting in our way, luckily they hinge back, so I lifted it and took the opportunity to slide my arm right around his left hip so as to push my hand under his thigh. The band of his jeans was loosen enough for me to feel his cotton clad crutch. I was pleased to find he was wearing pants and as I reached warm, smooth, bare skin slid my fingers into the tight silky pouch of his underpants. He made no effort to discourage my wandering fingers, so, pulling him closer I covered our laps with a BA blanket, and boldly stroked his thigh with my other hand, working his jeans down as I went. He sighed and parted his legs slightly when my hand brushed over the area of his warm smelling male groin and my fingers at last brushed gently against the thin silky material of his knickers, tightly stretched over his sexual mound.

My cock throbbed with excitement and anticipation and I had to slow down and mentally count to ten to avoid filling my pants with cum when I realised he was not only going to let me reach my target, but was panting for me as much as I was for him. I inserted my fingers as far as I could between his legs, and stroked them gently along the warm and noticeably damp material covering his prick and up to the summit of his pubic mound. He sighed and gripped me tight as my finger deliberately sought and found his sexy prick. I felt him hand cup the bulge in my trousers. We kissed long and passionately; it was strange I thought to have got to such a level of intimacy without having kissed before. I exercised as much self-control as I could muster as I felt the exquisite feeling of his hand gently exploring my throbbing cock. In return, my fingers pulled aside the warm silky band of his pants; and I was able to stroke warm downy hair and feel the hard, warm, wet and incredibly inviting intimate sex. I wrapped my fingers round his hard shaft, and gently massaged it; I then rolled his heavy balls encased in their hot sac gently and firmly between my finger and thumb. He clung to me more tightly, eyes closed, and his hips shuddered; he sighed again and we kissed passionately.

But it is one thing to snog, even as naughtily as this, in an airplane full of people but quite another to remove the garments necessary to couple us in the way we were both obviously craving for and to release our wild passion in the sexual frenzy we both felt. How could we satisfy our enormous lusts? What with cabin crew wondering backwards and forwards behind us to and from the galley, we could not easily strip off and start humping without the risk of creating a sensation on board. I had visions of us being arrested for grossly indecent behaviour in a Jumbo Jet! Could I somehow get my cock out and force down his tight panties? But what position could we use? Nothing else in the world now mattered except an overpowering urge to stuff my straining rod into the depths of his warm, eager arse. But trivial problems like tight jeans, trouser zips, stretched Y fronts and unyielding aircraft seats made this ambition hard to realise.

Lars, as always, was way ahead of me. He gave my cock a gentle squeeze which nearly fired it off, and got up without a word and strolled seemingly casually towards the loo at the front of the cabin. I contemplated following him into it, having heard stories of people having it away in railway carriage loos. But this always seemed to me to demand contortionist skills, apart from being not exactly comfortable or aesthetic! Also, there was no doubt that the passengers watching the movie would have noticed me following a boy into the lav, which on the top deck of a 747 is alongside the screen for the inflight movie, which was then in full flow. The thought of banging away in that confined space and of re-emerging afterwards was too daunting, even in my highly charged state!

Lars re-emerged a few moments later, quicker than usual when people use a loo, looking inscrutable. He grabbed a couple of BA blankets, snuggled back against me and it was a matter of moments to cover ourselves with the blanket. In the semi-darkness and in the back row, we felt safe from prying eyes. My hand went back to where it had been, to find just warm flesh and no underpants. I inserted a finger into his warm and inviting hole. His hand was undoing my zip, under the cover of the blanket; I undid my belt to help him. In a flash (so to speak) my trousers and pants were round my ankles and he was holding my throbbing prick like the gear level of a sports car it nearly made me change gear into overdrive!

His nipples strained against the thin material of his shirt. I undid his shirt to expose his chest under the blanket. I was then able to lay across him and greedily suck the entire nipple of his left breast into my mouth, with my head under the blanket in raunchily smelling warm darkness. I tickled the nipple with the end of my tongue, an action I have found to be appreciated by other boy friends, and Lars was no exception! He cradled my head with one hand like a baby held to his breast and gently stroked away at my straining cock from its tip along its underside to my balls. He was clearly an accomplished lover. I moved my head to his lap and attempted to lick his prick, but this was almost impossible in an aircraft seat, even though he parted his legs as widely as the limited space would let him. I remember the overwhelming scent of excited male mixed with the smell of his perfume, but could only nuzzle his fur and kiss the smooth inside skin of his thighs.

Lars unzipped his jeans and wriggled out of them, still under the blankets. "Please.." he moaned "please.." I felt the same way. he turned to face away from me, and firmly pressed his shapely bum against my left thigh. Making sure the blanket was covering us well, I twisted around until my throbbing tool was pressed up against the valley between his buns; it was a similar position as if he was sitting on my lap. I could probe his arse with my dick. He arched his back and raised his right thigh and firmly holding the end of my pulsing penis, he guided it into the mouth of his soft hole. I pushed hard so my cock slid smoothly into his firm warm tunnel. I cupped both his breasts with my hands and pulled him hard against me to penetrate as deep as possible.

He sighed and shuddered and his hips moved gently and rhythmically. The need to copulate quietly to avoid attracting attention was not forgotten, despite our extreme passion. This need forced us to perform using hard pressure and firm small movements; he thrust hard against my equal and opposite series of nudges. My instincts desperately wanted me to pump every last drop of my spunk into him as quickly and violently as possible, but my intellect made me want to prolong this ecstasy. The discipline of doing it slowly and quietly, so as not to attract attention, made it easier to prolong the excruciating pleasure without climaxing. Curiously I have always found that the longer and steamier the foreplay the better I can hold on until the crucial moment of a mutual climax. I was able to relax and savour the exquisite pleasure of being coupled with my beautiful fellow traveller. I forced my left hand between his waist and the seat until my it could reach past his bush and grip his throbbing cock jutting out like a red hot poker which I correctly guessed would fire his climax. We were now locked together and so overcome with desperate excitement that at that moment neither of us would have cared if all the passengers and crew were watching, although we kept straining against each other and moving slowly with great force to avoid attracting unwelcome attention. I could feel his muscles pulling and rippling at my straining hunk of meat that I cruelly rammed into him with as much force as I could manage. He had superb muscular co-ordination and was able to achieve what few boys I have coupled with can do, to give a feeling of sucking me into him with muscular ripples of his anal ring.

I could hold back no longer and erupted into frenzied, deep, deep wild spasms pumping and pumping what seemed like gallons of my juice as deep into him as I could. As I felt my ejaculation erupting I pumped at his rod. He shuddered and bucked and his internal muscles rippled along me forcing out the last small jerks of spunk. We subsided against each other quite breathless and trying not to pant loud enough to attract attention. Our fuck had only taken ten minutes; I glanced nervously over my shoulder and saw a steward's head rapidly disappear behind the galley curtain. Had he realised what we were up to? No way of telling, but judging from the slightly awe-struck look he gave us later, I suspected he had guessed! I wondered how often the back seat of this cabin was consummated by new members of the "Six Mile High" club and whether aircrew ever join this club for fun (considering they have many more opportunities than even us frequent business travellers). So thinking, I dozed off still clutching Lars tight in my arms, my deflating cock lying stickily against his leg.

We woke up pantless and trouserless still under our blanket. The movie had finished, the aircraft was in darkness, we only took a few minutes to arouse each other to another insatiable frenzy and I soon had pumped yet another generous load of cum into his willing and inviting hole. Not being satisfied with basic membership of the "Six Mile high Club" we had even found time for a second helping.

The cosy space under our blanket reeked of our sexual couplings: we blotted ourselves with tissues which Lars produced. He wriggled back into his jeans, I wriggled back into my clothes, while he went to the loo to tidy himself up. he re-emerged looking immaculate (and stunning). Breakfast was served, and there was little to say after this amazing night of passion. Soon the aircraft landed, and we went our separate ways he had a connecting flight to catch to Sweden. A quick handshake and a coy smile as we parted; "till next time!" I went through immigration and customs in a post-coital daze. Sadly our paths have not yet crossed again, and if they do, I wonder whether we would ever achieve such ecstatic feelings as those of two strangers coming together in such total uninhibited and lustful intimacy in such an impossible place?

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