It was Memorial Day, and the end of May in Florida, as you might suppose, can be the start of a long, hot summer. I was on a morning training flight, and after an hour of practicing the prescribed maneuvers, I had the urge to piss. Being alone in a small airplane, there isn’t an option of relief, so I headed for the nearest airport, on Merritt Island. It was their airplane, anyway.
After landing, taxiing to the ramp and tying down the plane, I walked inside the office building. Turning in the keys, I excused myself and made a bee line for the privy. The typical panic set in as I raced to dig out my cock before the urine started flowing, which was a lifelong struggle for me. As I usually do, I won the race, but not without moistening my fingers in the process. I enjoyed the rush of relief, though, and that was more important.
As I was thinking about licking my fingers dry, another man entered the room, so I moved to the sink to wash. The other man moved quickly to the urinal, unzipped and pulled out what was easily the longest cock I’d ever seen. The advertising jingle flashed through my mind, "it takes two hands to handle a whopper," and sure enough, he was using them both. I started drooling, just a bit, wanting to taste his cum.
I’m not normally one to react that way to the sight of an exposed cock, and don’t get me wrong, I don’t harbor any romantic feelings for men. Instead, I’m very selfish in my attraction to some cocks. I find them quite beautiful, most of them, and I have a particular fondness for sucking on them.
He glanced at me, noticed me staring at him and smiled. "Hi. I’m Ben," he said.
"I’m Testo," I answered. "My friends call me Tess, because they think it irritates me." Why did I feel the need to tell him that, I wondered? It was true enough, but telling a stranger, albeit a stranger with a fascinatingly long cock, could be construed as an invitation. Why was I even worrying about it? It wasn’t a secret that I enjoyed blow jobs from the open end of the cock.
"Tess," he repeated. "You a pilot?"
"Student pilot," I answered. "Just got back from a solo. You?"
"I’m practicing for my Commercial license, just about to go for a cross-country to Tallahassee. Wanna come?" he asked.
I wanted him
to cum, so I agreed to accompany him on his flight.
Together, we walked to his plane, a Beach Sierra, and I followed him around on his preflight inspection. Never having flown a high performance plane before, I was impressed with the increased number of things to check. All in all, though, it didn’t take much longer to complete the inspection than it did for me to inspect the Cessna 150s I trained in.
We entered the plane, and I noticed how much more room there was than in the 150s I was becoming accustomed to. There wasn’t room enough, though, to sit sideways in my seat with my legs between the seats, a position I had hoped I’d be using during our flight. Instead, I saw myself sitting a bit crooked and leaning mostly to the side. It would be less than comfortable, but doable.
The cockpit checklist was a little more complicated, as well, but he ran through it in good time, started the engine, announced his intentions on the Unicom, and started to taxi out to the end of the runway. I watched his progress, double checking for clearance from other planes, for traffic, and so forth. It was when he was doing the engine checks that I noticed what I thought, what I hoped, was a jump in his trouser front.
He reported his takeoff intentions, pulled onto the runway and put the power to it. By the time we actually left the ground, I was convinced I had seen, and was seeing his crotch jumping. It pulsed regularly as he clenched his sphincter muscles, and I took that as an invitation.
"Can I handle anything for you?" I asked when we were out of the traffic pattern.
"Handle? Lick? Suck? It’s yours to do what you will," he said.
I grinned as I released my seat belt, skewed toward him, leaned over and opened his fly. He wore no shorts, so his stiffening cock easily sprang forth into the open. I ran my fingers along its length, from tip to root and back, then leaned down further to press it to my lips.
He had a foreskin that overhung the end of his cock by a good half an inch, and having no experience with foreskins, I wanted to explore it. I licked across the loose end of his skin and was rewarded with an appreciative moan. The thought struck me that if I were to hold the end of his skin in my lips and press him into my mouth, maybe the skin wouldn’t slip through my lips, so frequent breaks to moisten my lips might not be necessary.
As I thought about it, I did just that. It was the strangest sensation to feel his cock sliding through his skin tube, spreading my jaw and running along my tongue, yet to have no taste other than skin. I wanted to taste his cock juices, but decided to just see when and if his cock would emerge from its skin and paint my tongue with pre-cum.
Halfway in, it did just that, and soon it was pressing against the back of my throat. Opening my throat, I pressed it easily into me, paused with my nose inside his trousers, then withdrew until only his cock head was inside my mouth. I repeated the process, taking him down my throat on each thrust, enjoying every inch of his cock, and slipping into an ecstacy that I only experience when I’m sucking cock.
He said something. I didn’t hear it at first, so he repeated it. It made no sense to me, so he said it a third time, "Hold my skin down, I’m ready to cum!" He sounded near panic, so I did as he said. I pressed him into my throat, reached my fingers around his cock root and held the skin in position as I withdrew. As the crown of his cock head touched the insides of my teeth, he squirted his cum against the tip of my tongue. It was easily the greatest thing I’d ever felt, and I swear I could see, in my mind’s eye, the cum splitting against my tongue.
He told me to hold still, which was against my normal reaction, but as I held still, he squirted stream after stream of cum into my mouth. I swallowed each squirt, and loved the taste and feel of his cum. I kept his cock in my mouth to savor the moment until it started to relax.
"Want a chaser?" he asked.
I sucked on the end of his cock as though it were a soda straw, albeit a very thick soda straw, and when I did, he let out a stream of piss to push out the last bit of cum. I drank it down, as well, and would have stayed for more if he had any more to give.
"Do you fly as well as you suck cock?" he asked, and offered me the chance to fly his plane. "There’s Tallahassee before us, and we’re cleared to land on 9, so when you get to 200 feet, make your turn to the right and set her on the number."
I did as he instructed, making perhaps the best landing I’d ever made, and in a strange plane at that. He said he had about 30 minutes of business to conduct, and then we’d head back to Merritt Island, and he’d be ready for another blow job, by then. I was looking forward to that as much as, or more than he was.
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