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Part 2

Now of course the interesting part at this point was dealing with my parents. I had neglected to tell them that I had applied, let alone the fact that I was considering taking a year out before going to college. Needless to say, they were not pleased, at first. I guess I’m quite lucky in some ways. Both of my parents are involved with teaching. My dad is a professor at a community college, and my mom is a faculty administrator for a large state college. So, eventually they both conceded that what I was off to do was a positive thing, both for those people who had requested the help from the program, and for me as a person.

The week leading up to my departure was extremely hectic. I was amazed at how much shit I had collected which had to be tidied away, or thrown away to clean out my room. Mom had decided she was taking my room as a quilting room of all things! Because I was planning on going off to college out of state when I returned, I was officially losing my room earlier than originally planned. I also had to find someone who was willing to take on my pet rat and who was actually allowed to take it, that was probably one of the most difficult things to do.

All too quickly though – I was packing my back pack and then looking back at the house as I climbed into my dad’s SUV for the short drive to O’Hare Field. The longest time I had been away from home before this was summer camp when I was 13. And then I was allowed to phone home once every three days. Where I was going there were only three phones on the whole island. To say I was nervous as I climbed out of the car at the airport was an understatement. Despite my protests, dad parked in the car park and both he and mom came in to the terminal with me and even went to the check-in desk with me. It was kind of a relief when I had to go through security and they couldn’t follow me.

I looked back once after I had made it through the metal detectors and X-Ray. Mom was crying and dad was holding her and waving. Yep – that set me off. A few tears escaped before I briefly waved back and strode off towards my gate. I hastily wiped my eyes, took a deep breath and breathed in what I assumed was the air of freedom.

The flights were not fun. A short hop to Minneapolis/St. Paul, then an agonising 18 hours from there to Manila in the Philippines squashed in an economy seat too small for my body. It was not the most enjoyable way to spend most of a day. First of all I was subjected to a personal search in Minneapolis/St. Paul. For some reason, going through security, they decided I was some sort of risk. I was pulled aside after the detector and had this TSA guy wave his stupid wand thing all over me. Then he got a swab thing and rubbed that on my shoes, feet, hands and back. After that was put in some machine and passed, he patted me down by hand, even feeling my ass, my package and around the waste band of my jeans. The nod from his boss meant he then escorted me to a small windowless room in the middle of the departure hall and then the fun really began.

“Sir, I need you to strip down to your underwear please.”

“What?”

“Sir, please strip down to your underwear. You have been randomly selected for a full body search. It’s just part of the tightened security measures sir.”

“Can I refuse?”

“You can refuse to be searched by a TSA officer, if you do so, that will result in your arrest by the airport police as a terrorist suspect. Trust me, you don’t want that to happen sir. Please, strip down to your underwear sir.”

Now, the problem was, this guy was hot! He can’t have been much more than nineteen or twenty, and he was perfectly built, obviously worked his body and had a face that made me want to kiss him. Now this in itself wasn’t a problem, the problem was that I was getting boned! I decided that if I took my time, then hopefully it would go down before I got down to the briefs. Yeah, right. You see the problem with making it a slow strip is that it raises suspicion in the searching officer. That’s not something you want to happen to you when you are stripping in a search room already!

He was getting impatient, and I finally recognised that and took the socks and jeans off. There I was standing in front of this totally hot guy in my bikini briefs, with a noticeable rod in the shorts. I saw a hint of a smirk on his face as he looked down, then up at my face.

“Um, sir. Please slowly turn 360 degrees for me and then stop.”

“Ok, now, sorry to ask this, but it appears on visual inspection that you either have an erection, or you are concealing something in your underwear.”

My heart sank.

“So, I’m afraid you will need to remove your underwear now sir. Please remove the underwear, hand it to me and stand straight up with your hands out to the sides.”

Too late to get out of this one. I quickly shucked the briefs, placed them in his hand and stood in front of him with my arms out looking him square in the eyes. He casually checked the underwear, then looked at my crotch which remained half engorged. As he did so, he looked back up at me and smiled broadly. His smile almost melted me and I felt a twitch down below as I stiffened up even more.

“Well,” he said, “It’s a weapon alright, but I’m not convinced it’s a weapon of mass destruction. Oh, and I’ll take that as a compliment too by the way.”

He handed me back my underwear and I dressed quickly and quietly, staying bright red the whole time. As I left the search room he winked at me and leaned closer to me to whisper.

“Dude, if I wasn’t on camera right now, I’d get your phone number. You have an awesome bod and one hot cock. Have a good trip!”

I looked incredulously at the TSA agent and shaking my head in disbelief walked hurriedly, and awkwardly towards my departure gate – with a fresh hardon.

Eighteen hours folded into a tiny seat inside a tin can going close to the speed of sound and unable to sleep gives you time to contemplate all sorts of weird things. In addition I still had my very close encounter with the security guy on my mind. One thought led to another and I found myself contemplating the legendary mile high club. Well, there was no way I was going to hook up with someone there and then, so the obvious thing to do was to join the mile high JO club.

The flight was pretty full, so there was clearly no easy way to do it in my seat. That only left the restroom. Thankfully I was in an aisle seat, so I could slip out at any time to head back down the aisle to do the deed. I planned and plotted for several hours until I was certain that pretty much everyone on board was either asleep, or was trying to sleep, then I casually slipped from my seat and walked all the way to the very back of the plane thinking that would be best. As I arrived there I was greeted by two cheery but tired looking flight attendants who were standing in the rear galley. Shit, this wouldn’t work! They would notice I was in there for a while!

“Hello sir, everything alright? If you need the lavatory, just push on the door.”

“Ahh no, thanks, just stretching my legs.”

I smiled and walked quickly back the way I had come and went back to my seat. Shit shit shit! It took me over half an hour to get up my nerve to make a second attempt. This time I headed to the mid-plane toilets, just two rows back from my seat. I went in to the first available toilet and closed the door and locked it. My heart was pounding and I had broken out in a nervous sweat. It was silly really. Nobody would know what I was going to do, and probably nobody would much care anyway. But I had never let anyone know about my masturbatory habits, let alone had anyone actually know I was doing it or about to do it. I had friends at school who were very open about their jerking off, even a couple who would tell us ‘hey, be right back dudes, just got to go bust a nut after seeing that hottie tonight’. But I was very shy about it all, probably because I was trying to ignore my gay feelings.

But I made it to that airplane toilet that night, and after my heart had slowed a little, my jeans were at my ankles and I was pulling the precum stained briefs away from my very hard cock. Two gentle strokes and my hand was coated with a slippery film of fresh precum. I have always been a copious producer. This and the fact that I was never circumcised as a kid meant I never once had to use any sort of added lubrication. Unlike one of my best friends who would regularly go into our bathroom at home and pump a couple of squirts of hand lotion into his palm before ‘going outside for 10 minutes to contemplate nature’ when he stayed overnight.

Within five minutes I was totally into my jerking session and entering a trance like day dream featuring a much more through strip search by my hot security man. At about the 12 minute point as I gently maintained the edge or orgasm and began to feel my knees slightly weakening beneath me, the plane suddenly jolted in turbulence as the fasten seat belts light came on accompanied by what seemed like a very loud ding. The sudden shock had the effect of sending me over that narrow brink and initiating one of the most bizarre orgasms I have ever had. It was extremely powerful, and it did make my knees buckle. Cum flew in all directions, and it really did fly. I hit the wall behind the toilet, the top of the mirror, my jeans and underwear and the floor on both sides of the toilet.

As I recovered my breathing there was an urgent knock at the door and I was told to return to my seat immediately. I looked around me and contemplated the mess I had just made but the knocking came again. I pulled up my pants, fastened the fly and opened the door to see the flight attendants strapping themselves in and pointing me to my seat. I sat down and strapped myself in, then in quiet horror grabbed a paper towel from the seat pocket to wipe the large deposit of semen from my chin and shirt. I didn’t leave my seat again for six hours, when I was forced to go for a piss. I went into the same toilet and was surprised at first to see no sign of my fun, then realised it was all still there, but had quickly dried up in the low humidity environment and was now virtually invisible. That was a relief!

Continue to part 3


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