Date: Sat, 24 Sep 2022 21:43:22 +0000
From: OmriWentz@proton.me
Subject: Seat 16B

Seat 16B
by Omri Wentz

I'm old enough to remember when air travel was a pleasant experience, in
many cases a luxurious way to spend a couple of hours. Not anymore.

I was taking a red eye flight from Atlanta to Los Angeles and the people
trudging through the mammoth Hartsfield-Jackson Airport looked like
zombies. I enjoy people watching, or to be more precise, I enjoy boy
watching. Give me a little cutie in the 7 to 13 age range to look at and
I don't need any in-flight entertainment.

As I watched the undead march to their boarding gates, one particularly
striking young lad caught my eye. Firstly, because he was a stunning 11
year old boy with flaming red hair and a face full of tan freckles. The
next thing I noticed about him was that he was traveling alone. He was
being escorted to my gate by a friendly looking woman in an airline
uniform. The telltale sign of an "unaccompanied minor." I'm not what you
would typically call a lucky man but I silently prayed to fate or kismet
or the universe or Allah or Jesus or Buddha or whoever that this striking
Irish beauty might sit near or even next to me! Nothing fun could happen
on an airplane. I knew that. But I love making boys' acquaintances and he
looked like a boy I wanted to get to know!

As I was sipping my watered down eight dollar cappuccino, the boy and I
made eye contact. I got lost in his emerald green eyes and probably
stared for too long. Finally, this ginger boy god smiled at me and broke
our eye contact. Otherwise I might still be sitting there in Concourse B
with my jaw hanging open.

Finally the stewardess began calling sections to begin boarding the
plane. When she announced my section, Opie and I both stood up and headed
for the gate. So far so good! At least he would be in my section!

I said hi to the pilots and flight attendants on the way to my seat.
Freckles was two people behind me in the line through the plane. When I
stopped at row 16 the two passengers immediately behind me in the line
squeezed past me but the ginger boy stood right in the aisle and stared
at me.

"I'm 16B," he said in a high unbroken boy register.
"Then we're neighbors!" I cheerfully replied. "I'm 16A."
"Sweet!" he said and began to stow his bag overhead.

"Do you want the window seat?" I asked him. I specifically requested the
window seat in this two person row but I'm a pushover for a cute preteen
boy! I know how much kids love sitting next to the window and watching
the world from 30,000 feet.

"Would that be okay?" he asked with grateful eyes. "My ticket is for the
aisle seat. It was a little cheaper."

"It would be my pleasure to swap seats with you... what's your name? I'm
Omri."
"Oh I'm Sam. Thanks Omri!"

Sam and I settled into our seats, him wiggling adorably next to the
window and me wiggling on the inside at getting the chance to sit next to
a gorgeous 11 year old boy for a few hours.

As the plane sped down the runway and began its ascent, I could tell that
my seatmate was nervous. He was clutching our shared armrest for dear
life. Hoping Sam wouldn't mind, I put my right hand on his left one and
squeezed it as we took off.

"It'll be OK Sam," I said reassuringly.

"OK Omri," the cute boy said with a little more confidence.

We were finally in the air and cruising over the sleeping metropolis of
Atlanta. Sam had his head resting against the window, watching the lights
below us. In the row of three across the aisle from us, there was a
mother, father and a 5 year old girl sitting in the middle. The dad was
already snoring and the mom was dumping a small bottle of rum into her
diet Coke. The little girl was engrossed in a show on her iPad, happy
that she was getting so much more screen time than she was usually
allowed.

I was zoning out when I felt Sam squeeze my hand again. He leaned his
orange head over to me and whispered in my ear.

"I saw you staring at me in the airport, Omri," he whispered.
"I don't think I was staring!" I whispered back.
"S-T-A-R-I-N-G staring!" Sam whisper-laughed.
"Fine!" I confessed. "I was staring."
"You like boys?" he asked innocently-ish.
"I'm not a perv," I replied.
"Aww too bad," Sam said a little sadly. "I was hoping you were!"

My ears pricked up hearing this. This little boy flying solo wants a boy
perv sitting next to him on an airplane? I smiled at him.

"Fine, you got me," I said. "I'm a *little* pervy, Sam. I wouldn't dream
of trying anything with you that you didn't want me to though. Let's just
be clear on that."

Sam adjusted his blue Umbro soccer shorts. I thought I noticed a little
tent forming in the shiny vinyl shorts.

"You can touch me if you want, Omri," he whispered. "Touch me down here.
Nobody is looking."

Sam spread out his legs for easy access to his bulging crotch. After a
quick look around the plane and making sure that the
sleeping/drunk/YouTubing family across from us was still sleeping/drunk
and YouTubing, I carefully lowered my right hand onto Sam's white hot
protruding penis.

The heat from his erect penis radiated through my hand. I fondled and
lightly squeezed it, trying to gauge its length and width through his
soccer shorts. By my expert (lol) boy estimation, I figured the lad was
about 4 inches long and maybe 2 inches around. I traced the ridge of his
cock head and didn't feel any foreskin so a cut boy.

As my fingers manipulated his throbbing head, Sam leaned his head against
my shoulder, unable to keep his head straight under this onslaught of
stimulation. His hot little boy breaths were absorbed into my shirt and
warmed me up. This was like a dream come true, getting to play with a
cute 11 year old boy who was loving every second of it.

But Sam wanted more. I did too. We spread out the blankets that the
flight attendant had given us before takeoff. The scratchy polyester
blankets covered both of our laps and legs. Then I felt Sam wriggling
next to me as he pulled down his shorts and underwear. I saw his blue
shorts and white briefs bunched up around his ankles. Sam quickly bent
over and picked them up, stowing them out of sight next to him in the
seat.

Now I had a rock hard naked (at least from the waist down) 11 year old
waiting for me to play with him. I'm nothing if not a pushover for a cute
boy so I reached my hand under his blanket and got my first feel of Sam's
goodies, unencumbered by pesky clothes. Occasionally someone heading to
or from the restroom would pass by our seats, never imagining that this
stranger was masturbating a little boy right in public like this.

I happened to have a small bottle of lotion that I had carried on, so I
squeezed a healthy dollop of Jergen's on my right hand and let it dive
back under Sam's blanket. Sam jumped when the cool lotion met his
volcanic penis. But as I started to stroke him, lubricating his tender
preteen penis, his gasps turned to little mewling sounds of pure boy
pleasure.

I started off slow and sensual, really enjoying exploring every one of
Sam's pulsing four inches. By the way, my guesstimate of the size of his
penis was spot on! A perfect circumcised slender preteen cock. I rubbed
the silky lotion into his piss slit and paid special attention to his
sensitive underside. For that, I was rewarded with high pitched coos into
my shoulder as well as little spasms of pleasure throbbing in his thin
shaft.

I rubbed my fingers over his pubic mound, feeling for any budding hairs
there. I felt a few new wisps but Sam was mostly bald there. I leaned
into his ear and whispered "Are you able to shoot yet?"
"Yeah," he whispered back. "I just started a couple of weeks ago." I
smiled, anticipating being the first one to bring Sam to one of his first
wet cums.

My lotion-saturated jerking of Sam's penis was making the unmistakable
squishy sounds of a cock being jerked with lotion. The blanket muffled it
a bit but the skin-on-skin contact could still be heard by anyone in our
area who wasn't wearing headphones. So I suppose it wasn't super
surprising when the gray head of our backseat neighbor popped over the
seat backs and looked at us. I paused my masturbation of Sam for a few
seconds until the 60-something man whispered "Please. Keep going!" So I
did. My slick fist rubbed the boy up and down over and over again. Sam
was moaning in my right ear, and our voyeur was moaning in my left ear.
This felt so perverted that my cock was straining uncomfortably in my
jeans.

"Take them off!" Sam whispered.
"Yeah, take them off!" the older man echoed.

I undid the button and zipper, and let my pants and boxers drop around my
feet. Mirroring Sam's actions, i bunched them up and stuffed them next
to me under the blanket. Now bottomless, I felt Sam's thin boy fingers
wrap themselves around my 6 inch shaft.

"Do you have more lotion?" Sam whispered. I handed him the bottle and
he put some in his left palm. Then I got to be the one to jump when the
cold lotion was applied to my dick. Soon enough, Sam was jerking my lubed
up cock while I jerked his lubed up cock. I felt the hot breath of the
man moaning "fuck yeah!" in my ear. Sam and I had an almost musical
rhythm going of upstrokes and downstrokes. We naturally alternated as if
it were rehearsed.

While we jacked one another, Sam moved his head from my shoulder up to my
face and pressed his sixth grade lips to mine. I opened my lips and let
his curious, probing tongue inside. His tongue tasted like sweet things
and boy essence. Maybe a cherry candy he'd sucked on earlier? Our
tongues dueled, tasting each other and licking the insides of each
other's mouths. This had the effect of us both getting even harder in
each other's hands. We made out for ten minutes, each of us rising
towards an orgasm and then falling back, not wanting this moment to end,
not wanting to reach the climax because that meant it would soon be
over.

But finally we had our cue. The captain announced that we would be
touching down in Los Angeles soon and that the flight attendants would be
coming around to collect trash. I nodded at Sam and he nodded back. As
much as we wanted this encounter to continue, we knew that we had to wrap
it up.

We each squirted a little more lotion on our hands and then started
jerking each other vigorously. The wet squishing sounds were loud but we
didn't care. We were two horny guys who needed to cum, damn the
consequences. The perverted old man was breathing heavily in my ear
"Cum! Cum! Make the boy cum! Let the boy make you cum! Fuuuuuuuuuck!"

I felt Sam's cut head begin to expand between my fingers so I went into
overdrive. He moaned and writhed, feeling his adolescent orgasm
approaching. Just before he fired off his watery load, Sam pulled the
blanket off so I (and the old man) could watch him shoot. He was so proud
of his new trick! With my thumb and two fingers grasping his slim pink
pole, Sam bucked his hips and fired three clear spurts from his purple
head. Each spurt was accompanied by a breathless soprano "uh!" I felt
his post-orgasm contractions pulsing through his shaft and that sent me
over the edge. With this 11 year old boy gripping my aching adult penis,
I felt my cum travel from my shaved balls all the way up my six inch
shaft and fire out the head of my cock.

"Fuck yeah!" Sam said.
"Fuck yeah," the man said.
"Fuck yeah!" I said.

After we took a luxurious minute to bask in our post-cums, Sam and I
quickly cleaned up and put our shorts and jeans back on. The old guy sat
back down in his seat and the three of us were mostly presentable as the
cabin lights came on and the flight attendants came around with big black
bags. I carefully tossed the paper towels I had used to wipe up Sam's
and my evidence into the bag. It might have been my imagination but I
thought the male flight attendant shot me a knowing look.

Then we were in L.A. and I watched my little boy lover run up to his dad
and throw himself into his arms. I was maybe a bit jealous but that's
ridiculous. Sam gave me a little wave and I waved back.

"Who is that?" Sam's dad asked him.
"That's Omri!" Sam chirped in reply. "He's really nice. He sat next
to me."
"Bye Omri!" his dad waved. "Thanks for looking after my boy! Maybe
we'll see you around!"

Then I left the airport and stepped out into the humid Southern
California night. I figured I'd never see Sam again and I probably
won't. L.A. is a big city after all. But hopefully not *that* big!

Please donate some money to Nifty!

And please let me know if you enjoyed my story. Email:
OmriWentz@proton.me

And check out my other stories:

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/jaxsons-penis

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/babysitting-baker

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/wrestling-eric

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/second-grade-hedonist

https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/broken-zipper