Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2024 08:52:46 -0700
From: mecocklover@gmail.com
Subject: Getting Away

GETTING AWAY

I was 20 years old and broken-hearted. Young love can be intense, and I was
shattered by the abrupt end I had experienced.  I needed a sympathetic ear,
so I called my uncle Jimmy, who lived just south of San Francisco.

He was making a good living working for a Silicon Valley firm, and he was
the only family to whom I had come out as being gay.  I told him the entire
story of how I had met my (now ex-) boyfriend, how we had talked of being
together permanently, adopting children, and the like.

As I told him the details of how things ended, I could hear Jimmy wincing
over the phone.  "He could have handled that better," he said
sympathetically.  He had a gift for understatement.

"No shit," I replied.  I didn't normally swear in the presence of family,
but Jimmy was the exception.

"Well, when do you get your spring break?"

I was surprised by the quick change in the topic of conversation.  "In
about six weeks.  That's in the middle of March."

"You now have plans.  You're coming out to California for that week.  I'll
make all the arrangements, so don't worry about booking flights or costs or
anything.  You need some time away from everything where you can just enjoy
yourself without worrying or thinking about what's happened to you."

Good to his word, Jimmy took care of everything.  He hired a car and driver
to take me to the airport where a small jet waited.  He had chartered the
plane to fly me directly to California so that I wouldn't have to deal with
the hassle of commercial travel.  He was obviously showing off how well he
was doing financially and had spent a lot of money on my trip.  Even though
I was still mourning my loss, I was nevertheless touched by the
over-the-top gesture.

As I boarded the plane, I was greeted by a smartly dressed and very
attractive man about 10 years my senior.  He was a bit shorter than me, and
his hair was cropped closely to his head as if he were trying to hide some
premature balding.  When he smiled to greet me by name, one could notice
the very beginning of "smile lines" at the corner of his hazel eyes.
Well-toned arms protruded from the short sleeves of his button-down shirt,
and his chest stretched the material slightly.  A dark blue neckerchief was
knotted loosely on the right side of his neck.

"I'm Dawson," he said.  "My job is to make your flight as enjoyable as
possible.  I'll get you anything you need."  He gestured to the spacious
cabin of the plane, which had only a few seats, a small table, and more
than enough room to stretch out.  "Go ahead and take a seat.  I'll make
sure the captain knows that you're aboard so he can get clearance to take
off once all the on-ground preparations are complete."

Dawson walked to a telephone receiver attached to the wall, picked it up,
and spoke quietly.  I made my way into the cabin and took one of the seats.
A switch must have been flicked somewhere, as the stairs into the plane
retracted, sealing the entrance.  As I fastened the safety belt, Dawson
re-appeared.  "Can I get you anything to drink before we take off?"

"A ginger ale would be great."

"Is that all?  You don't want anything stronger?"

Sardonically, I replied, "I'm only 20.  I'm not legally old enough for
alcohol."

Dawson's lips twitched slightly, suppressing a sly grin.  "I won't tell if
you won't.  How about a little Jameson and ginger?"  He gave me a little
wink.

I paused, considering.  Did Jimmy expect me to drink during the flight?  If
he did, would it seem ungrateful if I didn't have anything?  He had always
been more of a free spirit than the rest of my relations, so it wouldn't be
out of character for him to orchestrate something like that.  Part of being
the proverbial black sheep of the family meant he was more inclined to
break the rules.

"Why not?" I said resignedly, nodding once.  I had never had much liquor
other than a couple of occasional sips. We were going to be in the air for
several hours, so I figured there would be ample time for any effects to
begin to wear off by the time I reached my final destination.  Besides, I
rationalized to myself, Jimmy wouldn't have had the plane stocked with
alcohol if he didn't expect any of it to be drunk.

"I'll be right back," Dawson said, as he began moving to the back of the
plane.  He paused briefly as he passed me and patted me once on the
shoulder, giving me a conspiratorial wink.

"Good lord, Jimmy," I muttered.  While I knew that Spring Break from
college was stereotypically a time for students to get black-out drunk, I
was not a "party hard" type even if I was in the mood to have a good time.
I hoped that I wasn't expected to spend the entire week either drunk or
hungover.

Dawson appeared, offering me a glass tumbler with ice and golden liquid.
"I didn't make it very strong," he said.  "I don't know if you're used to
it or not.  If you want something with a bit more of a kick, just let me
know."  He gave me another wink.

I took a sip of the drink, and I couldn't taste any noticeable alcohol in
it.  True, it didn't taste quite like regular ginger ale, but it didn't
have any harshness that I had associated with the liquor I had tasted at
college.  Maybe this was just some brand of ginger ale that I wasn't
familiar with.  Maybe he didn't actually put anything alcoholic in the
glass after all, and he was just pulling my leg a little.  After all, he
did wink at me, and that's something a person does when you're not being
serious.

I winked back at him to show that I was in on the joke.  "It's just perfect
like this," I said.

"Excellent.  It'll probably still be a few minutes before we taxi and take
off, so you should have time to enjoy that before we're in the air.  In the
meantime, we're just waiting for the captain to make the announcement."

"Thanks."  I took another long sip, and Dawson held my gaze for just an
extra moment before he disappeared again toward the back of the plane.

I turned my head to stare out of the window, looking at nothing in
particular.  Maybe Jimmy was right and I needed some time away from the
campus and the memories associated with it.  It would be good to get away
from the place where I saw my now-ex feeling up my friend Mario less than a
week after he had suggested we break off our emotional connection but still
fuck around together.  Maybe not seeing either of them or being around the
places I'd seen them would let me begin the healing process.

The captain's voice announced that all on-ground preparations were complete
and that we would soon begin our initial taxiing to the runway.  I heard
the engines start to rev.  Dawson reappeared and knelt next to me, with one
hand on my shoulder.  He placed his fingertips on the top of the tumbler
that I was still holding.  "Do you want to finish that, or can I take it?"

I turned back to look at Dawson.  His eyes seemed to sparkle a little as he
looked at me.  I placed my free hand on top of his and lifted it gently off
the glass.  "One second," I said.  I lifted the glass to my lips and
drained it.  Ice clinked as I lowered it and placed it in his hand.

"Now I'm done.  Thanks."

Dawson took the glass and disappeared again.  I leaned back in the seat and
closed my eyes.  Soon, the engines on the chartered plane revved harder,
and we began to move.  Within a few minutes, we were in the air.

I had flown before, but this experience was very different.  It even felt
like my body was starting to buzz a little as we climbed to cruising
altitude.  Sure, it was exciting to be flying in a private plane for the
first time, but I didn't feel particularly thrilled about that.  I was
going to spend the next several hours alone with my thoughts; I hadn't even
thought to bring a book to read during the flight.  Was it just the fact
that I was in a smaller aircraft that made my skin feel like it was
vibrating?

The intercom crackled, and the captain informed me that we had leveled off
and could roam about the cabin if I wished.  I undid the safety belt from
around my lap and stretched, trying to clear my head.

Dawson reappeared at my shoulder and crouched down to be level with my
face.  "Can I get you another drink?  The same as before, or something
else?"

"The same thing would be great.  Thanks."  Dawson stood and turned to
leave, but I touched his arm to stop him.  "Dawson?"  I asked uncertainly.
"We're going to be flying for several hours, right?"

"Uh-huh.  About five hours or so."

"Would you mind if we talked or something in the meantime?  Otherwise, I'm
going to be bored out of my mind.  Is that asking for too much?  I've never
been on a plane by myself like this before."

Dawson gave a small smirk.  "I was kind of planning on that.  Like I said,
my job is to make your trip enjoyable.  If that means having a chat, then
that's what I'll do.  Let me get you that drink, and I'll be right back."

My body was starting to buzz a little harder, and I felt slightly
light-headed.  Maybe there had been some booze had been added to that first
glass of ginger ale, after all.  If I didn't want to get drunk, I should
probably be more careful with the next one.

Dawson returned and slid another tumbler into my hand.  Our fingers touched
briefly.  Lifting his other hand, he showed me that he had mixed another
drink.  "Do you mind if I join you?"

"Feel free.  Are you allowed to drink on the job, though?"

"I won't tell if you don't."

"It's not any of my business, is it?  I wouldn't know who to tell even if I
wanted to."

"Then I'm allowed.  You're the boss on this flight."  Dawson sat next to me
and sat his drink on the table.  "So, what's a guy like you doing in a
place like this?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd think that was a pick-up line," I said,
rolling my eyes a little.  More seriously, I added, "My uncle Jimmy decided
I needed to get away for a while and went a little crazy making the travel
arrangements."

"Needed to get away?"

"Long story."

Dawson lifted his glass to his lips and considered thoughtfully. choosing
his words.  "I'm not going anywhere, and we've got several hours to kill."

"You don't want to hear this."

"If I didn't think I did, I wouldn't have asked.  You don't have to tell
me, of course, but I'll listen if you want me to.  Your call."

I took a breath to steady myself.  Those emotional wounds were still fresh,
after all, but here I was seriously thinking about exposing them to a
stranger.  My body continued to buzz, and my thinking was starting a little
sluggish.  Maybe I could blame the alcohol if I told this story.

Dawson reached over and tapped my glass with his fingertips.  "Do you need
some Dutch courage?"

"Huh?"

"A little booze to boost your self-confidence."

"I've never heard that phrase before."  Nevertheless, I took another sip
and swallowed.  I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, resigning myself to
letting it all hang out.  "Two words: first love."

Dawson's eyes widened a little and he inhaled deeply.  "And that ended
badly, didn't it?"

"It's hard for me to imagine how things could have gone worse."  Then I
told the full story, mentioning the first headlong rush, the hesitancy that
first time he invited me back into his apartment, the deep attachment, the
strange and interesting places where we did sexual things.  I recounted the
joy I felt when I heard him say, "I love you," for the first time and the
exhilaration I felt when I said it back.  Everything I could think of at
the moment gushed forth.

And then I told how one night he came to my dorm room, had sex with me, and
then said we should break up but continue fucking with no emotional bond to
each other or commitment of any kind.  Then I finished by saying how he had
started hanging all over -- and fucking, based on snippets of overheard
conversation -- a friend of mine who was an exchange student.

Dawson appeared both aghast and astonished.  "Wow.  That's a story.  I
mean, everyone gets their heart broken at some point, but DAMN."

"Yeah," I said mournfully.  Even though it had been almost two months since
my emotions were thrown into turmoil, the pain was still very raw and real
to me.

Dawson reached out a hand and placed it on mine, squeezing it.  "You'll
make it through."  He leaned over and put a small kiss on the corner of my
lips.  "You're too cute to be alone for long."

Blinking, I looked at him in surprise.  Suddenly, my mind registered his
previous winks and smiles in a different light; maybe he had been flirting
with me instead of just being friendly or joking.  In a different place and
context, that might have been less unexpected, and I might have picked up
on the clues a bit faster.  Was he really making a move on me now, right
after hearing about my current emotional baggage?

While I sat, near-paralyzed in indecision and mild shock, Dawson removed
his hand from mine, put it on his neckerchief, and hooked his index finger
beneath the knot.  Pulling slowly, the knot came undone, and he slowly
pulled the cloth from his neck.  Once free, he allowed it to drop to the
floor.  His hand then moved to rest on his pectoral.  Dawson lightly
pinched at his nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

"I'll stop if you want me to.  But I can help you pass the time, and you
might take your mind off your ex for a while."  Looking into my face, he
slowly licked at his lips.

"IÑ" I began, stuttering slightly.  Dutch courage slowly began to
overwhelm my inhibitions.  "I'm not going to stop you, if this is something
you want to do."

Dawson wasted no time once the words were out of my mouth.  His shirt was
off before I knew what was happening, revealing a smooth muscled chest and
lightly defined abdominal muscles.  He then reached under the table and
released a catch to swing it out of the way, taking our drinks out of
reach.  Then he stood, kicked off his shoes, lowered his hands to his
trousers, and deftly unbuttoned them and lowered the fly.  He moved in
front of me and reached out to me with his hand.

Hesitantly, my hand moved toward him.  I wasn't sure if I was ready for
this.  I had been celibate ever since the break-up, not even wanting to
socialize with people I knew while I grieved.  I had preferred to be alone,
when possible, to lick my wounds.  However, this man was blatantly offering
himself to me in such a direct way that I was unsure how to respond.
Dawson had also heard my story and knew that I was currently damaged
emotionally, but that didn't matter to him at the moment.

And he was right Ð we were going to be in the air for several hours, and
I needed distraction now that I had re-lived my recent trauma.  Dutch
courage fortified my nerve, and I put my hand in his.

Dawson pulled me out of my seat so that we were both standing.  My hand
fell limply to my side when he released it.  Taking my face in his hands,
he guided my lips to his.  His mouth parted immediately, and his tongue
traced the crease between mine.  It pushed forward, probing, until it found
my teeth.

My confidence faltered, and I pulled back slightly and looked at him.  "I'm
not sure if Ð" I began.

Dawson placed two fingers against my lips to silence me.  Then he wrapped
both arms around my back and pulled me into a hug.  Reaching up, he
whispered into my ear, "Let that go.  I'm here for you for as much or as
little as you want, but let go of the past Ð if only for a little while
Ð so you can be here with me right now."  He took my earlobe into his
lips and sucked on it slightly.

At the touch of his lips, I inhaled sharply.  After a moment, I let it out
slowly, with a slight moan.  "All right, I'll try," I breathed.

At these words, his hands slid down my back to my waist.  He pulled me
tightly against his body.  I could feel his firm muscles through my shirt
as his hands slid up my back.  Straddling one of my legs, he began to grind
his cock against me.  Tentatively, I placed my hands on the naked skin at
the small of his back and embraced him in return.  I tilted my head into
his face as he continued to suck, lick, and nibble on my ear.

Dawson stepped back abruptly, causing me to stumble forward briefly.  As I
steadied myself, Dawson slowly sank to his knees in front of me.  Reaching
had hands around to grasp my ass, he pulled my crotch to his face.  Through
my jeans, he mouthed and chewed at my dick, mauling me through the fabric.

My hands went to the top of his head, massaging the stubble and skin as he
ate at my dick.  I was still fully clothed, and he was making no overt
moves to undress me.  I didn't know if he was content to grope at me
through my clothes, if he was waiting for me to take them off, or if he
just wanted to take his time progressing to that point.  I began to push my
hips forward into his face as I gently pulled his head into me, watching
him work mouth on the bulge beneath the denim.

Dawson took this as permission to be more aggressive.  His hands moved to
the front of my jeans and undid them.  He stood slowly, tracing up the
center of my torso with his tongue as he did, leaving a faint trail of
saliva. Once he was standing, he placed one hand on my crotch and the other
behind my head.  "These need to come off," he said breathily.

I rushed to comply, sitting in my seat to untie and remove my shoes and
tugging my jeans down.  Dawson fished into the pocket of his trousers to
find something before pulling them off, revealing a tight white jockstrap
underneath.  He worked the lid off of the small plastic tube he had taken
out of his pocket and squirted a glob of thick lubricant into his hand
before working it into the crack of his ass.  He closed his eyes as he
began to writhe against his hand, fingering himself, as he made himself
slick inside and out.

"You came prepared," I commented in disbelief as I freed my leg from my
jeans and stood to slide my Y-fronts off.

"Always," said Dawson, moving towards me.

He slid his hands under my shirt again and pulled me into a deep kiss.  I
could feel the slickness of the leftover lube on his hand as he slid it
across my skin.  I was much more prepared and willing than before, and his
tongue slid over mine in my mouth.

Still clutching me, he twisted his body, maneuvering me around the cabin to
another empty seat.  Dawson pushed me down, and I fell heavily.  Before I
could register any disappointment, he moved to straddle me as his lips met
mine again.  He was beginning to make slight moans and grunts as we felt
each other, and my voice matched his.  I reached around his back, pulling
him into me, embracing his muscular body to me.

Greedily, he kissed me harder.  I was slumped down in the seat, and Dawson
began grinding his jock-clad dick into my stomach.  My cock was positioned
under him, and I could feel the slickness of his crack as he moved against
me.  It was difficult for me to believe that this was happening or that
things were moving so fast.

Dawson broke our kiss and pulled back slightly.  He looked intently into my
eyes.  "Are you ready to do this?" he panted.

"I haven't been with anyone since the breakup," I responded, "but I think
so."

Wordlessly, Dawson repositioned himself slightly and reached behind himself
until he felt my member.  I gasped at his touch.  Only two other men had
ever touched me like this before, and the feeling of another's fingers on
my shaft made me roll my eyes back in pleasure.

"That's nothing," Dawson breathed.  "Wait until you feel...this!"  Warmth
and wetness enveloped my mind as he slid himself onto my cock.  He squirmed
as he slid down, taking me as far into him as our positioning would allow.
"Ohhhhhhhh," he moaned, the pitch of his voice raising until he almost
sounded like he was pleading with me.

I grunted in appreciation, and my eyes opened wide.  My first experience
since having my heart broken was happening several miles in the air.  That
thought -- and the alcohol -- made my head swim.  "Can we," I said
haltingly, "wait like this for a minute?"

"Your wish is my command.  I like the feeling of you inside of me."

"Oh my God," I blurted.  "Are we doing this?  Is this happening?"

Dawson looked down into my face.  "Yes."  He leaned down and kissed me,
grinding his ass on me slightly.  Pulling his face back again, he
continued.  "But if you want to stop, we can.  I won't judge you for that.
This is all about you."  He took my face in his hands and brought his close
to me until our foreheads touched.

His eyes looked into mine hungrily.  His face showed no trace of pity for
me, only desire.  He was starving, and his appetite needed to be sated,
somehow.  I tilted my face upwards until our lips barely touched.  "No.  I
want this, too."

Dawson attacked me with his mouth as he began to ride me.  One arm went
behind my back to grasp me as the other reached to grasp something to keep
his balance.  In my slouched position, there wasn't much I could do; he was
doing all the work.  He slowly slid up before pushing back down more
forcefully.  Each time he slid down onto me, he gave a high-pitched grunt
as he took me deeply into himself.

His pace was deliberate.  Even though he had wasted no time in getting
started, he was in no hurry to finish.  I had the stamina to continue for a
while.  My now-ex and I would regularly spend two hours or more kissing,
caressing, screwing, suckingÉbut this was not the time to think of him.
Dawson the one on my lap with my cock in his ass and his tongue in my
mouth, and I refocused my attention to the here and now.  The sounds he was
making were stoking my desire, and the feel of the muscles in his back
beneath my hands was equally stimulating.

Dawson eventually broke our kiss and leaned back.  He began grinding back
and forth across my dick instead of up and down.  Each time he pushed
forward, he gasped in pleasure.  He was massaging his prostate with my
dick, a feeling I remembered well.  My own asshole twitched as I remembered
the sensations I'd felt in a similar situation as I watched, felt, and
listened to him satisfy his needs, using me as his personal dildo.

An obvious wetness had developed on the front of Dawson's jock strap.  His
cock was leaking through the material.  This sexy, muscled, older man had
yet to touch his dick, but the precum made his jock look like he had been
exercising for an hour.  He was clearly content to use his ass for pleasure
Ð both his and mine.

After a while, Dawson leaned forward again, opening his eyes and looking at
me.  His hazel eyes blazed.  "Are you doing O.K.?

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

"Good."  He kissed me roughly, almost chewing at my tongue.  Without
breaking the kiss, he climbed off of me, whimpering loudly into my mouth
when my cock was released from his insides.  He took my shoulders and
stepped back, lifting me from the chair.  Keeping his lips locked on mine,
he laid back onto the floor of the cabin, gently guiding me down with him.

He spread his legs so that mine were between them.  As he laid back, he
hooked his hands behind his knees and lifted his legs back until they
touched his shoulders.  Finally, his mouth released mine as he leaned his
head back.  "Fuck me.  Don't make love to me.  Fuck me!"

I was young and still somewhat na•ve, and I was not entirely clear what
he meant.  I could feel the animalistic urges surging forward in me,
though.  I was losing myself in the moment in a way that I had never done
before.  I had only one lingering concern.  "You're sure this is all right?
You're not going to lose your job for this, right?"

"I won't tell if you won't," he growled. "Now get back inside of me."

Wordlessly, I positioned myself.  I braced myself with my arms on either
side of his shoulders, under his armpits.  The head of my cock could feel
his hole inviting me inside.  I looked down into his face, and he nodded
slightly.  He wriggled his hips a little, and I could feel his warmth
beginning to envelop the head of my dick.  Pushing forward, I slid inside
without resistance.

"Oh, fu-u-u-u-u-ck!" Dawson exclaimed loudly.  His hands released his knees
and his calves fell to rest on my shoulders.  He wrapped his hands around
my butt, pulling me into himself as he lifted his hips to allow me to have
easier access to his hole.  Holding me tightly inside him, he gyrated his
hips so that he could feel my dick exploring his insides as far as it could
reach.  He began whimpering and moaning again as that special place inside
him brushed up against my hardness.  I flexed the muscles in my hips and
legs to drive in as far as I could.

"My God," he appreciated, writhing, "it's like your cock was made to be in
me.  It just hits the right spot.  It's like this is a perfect fit."

I closed my eyes, relishing the sensations that he was giving me.  "Jesus,
you feel so good," I whispered.  Something about the way he was moving and
the feel of his canal was unlike anything I had felt before -- or even
imagined.  Sex with my ex had been fun, and we had fucked almost every
chance we got, but there was something about Dawson's body that seemed to
be igniting nerves and unlocking parts of my brain that had never fired in
this way before.

"You might be young," Dawson panted, "but you have good instincts."  I
could feel him raising his head to kiss my neck, and I opened my eyes.  I
nuzzled my head against the side of his, not quite knowing how to express
myself verbally.

The stubble on his head scratched at my cheek for a moment as he raised his
head to position his lips at my ear.  "Let me have it," he groaned.  "No
mercy.  Just please yourself."

I had never just gone at another man without considering his feelings and
his sensations before.  With my ex, I always wanted to make sure he was
getting his needs fulfilled as much as mine.  Sometimes that meant a
quickie.  Sometimes that meant flip-flopping with him.  Sometimes that
meant feeling him up while he was driving me back to my school from his
place.  Dawson, though, was explicitly telling me to not worry about him.

"If that's what you want," I murmured.  I pulled back with my hips a little
to withdraw slightly from his ass and then pushed back in.

Dawson gave a longing whimper and leaned his head back, rolling his eyes so
that only the whites were visible.  His hands rose up my back and clutched
at my slight frame, clawing at me with his fingertips.  His muscles
stiffened as I drew back and pushed forward again.

I reached down with my head and extended my tongue.  I licked the underside
of his chin and up his face to his lips.  His mouth opened to draw me into
a kiss, and I pulled back slightly.  "Look at me," I whispered.

His eyes opened and latched onto mine, his hazel eyes stared fiercely into
my icy blue ones as I maintained a slow and steady rhythm.  Each stroke
brought forth a high-pitched whimper from him.  His body was now slick with
sweat, and his jockstrap Ð which had looked fresh and new when I first
saw it Ð now resembled an oily rag as it ground against my lower belly.

"More," he begged.  "Give me everything.  Fuck me like you hated me."

Without withdrawing, I leaned back, pulling my knees forward so that I was
resting on them.  Dawson's hands slipped from my back and fell to the floor
of the cabin.  He raised up onto his elbows as I caught his ankles in my
hands and spread his legs wide.  I began to rock back and forth on my
knees, watching the expression on his face.

As I pulled back out of his ass, the smallest trace of disappointment
furrowed his brow.  It was almost as if he were missing a dear friend for a
moment.  With each slide in, his look changed to pure satisfaction Ð
almost joy.  His friend had returned to him for a brief, but intense,
visit.  Each inward push elicited a brief cry as he exhaled.  His face
looking at me over his chiseled chest was a thing of exquisite beauty and
as exhilarating to me as a potent aphrodisiac.

"Good god," I said, watching his face intently.  "You're gorgeous.  You're
incredible."

Staring at me with those intense eyes, he grunted.  "More.  Harder.  Use
me."  He pushed himself downward onto me, riding me as I slid in and out,
making each insertion more forceful, as if I was not giving him enough.  As
much pleasure as he was getting, he desired Ð no, required Ð
additional stimulation.

I pulled away and completely out of him.  There was an audible slap as my
cock slapped against my belly as it was released from his ass.  My hands
were still holding his legs wide apart.

"No," Dawson whimpered pitifully.

"Yes," I countered.  I released his left leg and moved the free hand to his
right.  Wrapping it around his right thigh, I pulled upward, forcing him to
roll over onto his side.  Holding one leg in the air, I straddled the
other.  "You wanted more?  Harder?  You're about to get it."  Holding his
leg straight up against my body, I slid my body back forward.  Putting all
of the weight I could muster, I pushed back into him all at once.

Dawson cried out, throwing back his head and arching his back.  "That's
it!" he exclaimed.  "That's the way!  Don't you dare fucking stop."

I began to work furiously, my brow dripping with sweat.  I was no longer
thinking coherently, having surrendered myself to the moment and
sensations.  Dawson's muscular ass was unbelievable, and he was not getting
tired or didn't want to slow down.  We had been going at it for quite a
while, and he still wanted more.  His stamina was impressive, and he was
also desperate to be plowed fast and hard.  I was working the last several
weeks of frustrations into him and he was greedily taking everything I had
to give him.  I, on the other hand, was starting to run short of breath.

Holding his right thigh tightly against my stomach, I worked his ass in
earnest with an obvious goal in mind.  Our sweat had mixed with his initial
dose of lube, and the slickness between his cheeks felt delicious.  The
cabin was filled with the sounds of my hips smacking Dawson's butt and our
collective groans and cries.  Dawson's pecs shook with each impact as I
pushed myself into him repeatedly.

"Give. It. To. Me." he panted, each word punctuated by my thrusts.
"Use. Me. To. Get. Off!"

"You want me to cum?"

"Yes."

"In you or on you?"

"In!  Please!" he pleaded.  "Fill me up!"

I could feel the initial stirring in my balls, telling me that I was going
to cum if I kept this up, and Dawson was literally begging me to flood his
insides with my essence.  I had given myself to this experience, and it was
only fitting that I take it to its natural conclusion.  I was going to
breed his muscular Ð and seemingly tireless Ð asshole.

I gripped his muscled thigh tightly as his hip and began to rail him in
with as much energy as I could muster.  The toes on the foot near my head
curled, and Dawson gave a loud howl of joy.  He closed his eyes tightly and
bowed his head to his chest, moving one arm beneath his head to use as a
cushion.  A low growl started deep in my chest and increased in volume as
it erupted from my mouth.  Our lustful sounds drowned out the sounds of the
jet engines propelling the plane through the air.

"Come on," Dawson encouraged.  "Give it to me.  Give me that cum."  He
reached back to put his hand on his ass cheek, spreading it open to let me
in as deeply as possible.

I reached the point of no return, and I knew that I was going to blow my
load.  I mentally held myself back as long as I could as I did my best to
bruise his prostate with my cock.  Finally, I could wait no longer.

"Ready?" I asked, with only a few seconds to spare.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, as he released his asscheek to grab my hip and pull me
into him.

I cried out loudly as I began to unload inside of Dawson.  It seemed that
every nerve ending in my cock was firing at once.  His leg was clutched
tightly to me, and Dawson himself was doing his best to pull me into his
insatiable hole.  I pulsed and shook for what felt like five minutes before
I released his leg and collapsed next to his slick, sweaty body.  Rolling
over to face upward, I stared at nothing as I tried to collect myself.

Dawson purred contentedly.  His cock was still swaddled in its jockstrap,
untouched, as he rolled onto his back next to me.  He turned his head to
face me and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek as I tried to catch my
breath.  Then he snuggled up against me, still lying on his back.

Spreading his legs, he lifted the one next to me and draped it over mine.
He raised his hips slightly and lowered his hand to finger his hole.  He
squirmed a bit and closed his eyes as he slid two fingers into himself,
giving a now-familiar little whimper.  After a moment, he withdrew it and
lifted it to his face.  Closing his eyes, he put them in his mouth and
sucked on them.

"Mmmmm," he moaned luxuriously.  I twisted my torso over onto my side,
propping myself up on my elbow to watch him as he repeated the process
twice more.  I had never seen anything like this before.

Dawson opened his eyes and glanced at me.  "What?" he asked.  When I didn't
respond immediately, he removed his leg from on top of mine and then rolled
over, straddling me.  He lowered his face until his nose touched mine and
grinned.  "Do you want to know what we taste like together, or something?"

I met his eyes unblinkingly.  "Why not?" I said.  I extended my tongue and
licked his lips.  He did not draw back.  Still looking into my eyes, he
opened his mouth and twisted his head slightly to one side, giving me a
long, deep, unhurried kiss.  Eventually, Dawson broke the contact and
climbed off of me, sitting on the floor.

I raised myself onto my elbows.  Looking at him, I didn't know what to say.
I also didn't know what to feel.  I was young, had recently had my heart
devastated, told my story to a sexy older man, and been seduced by him into
wild intercourse that was completely out of character for me.

Suddenly, something dawned on me.  "Oh, jeez," I exclaimed.  "I didn't pay
any attention to you, did I?"

Dawson laughed heartily. "You gave my hole a LOT of attention."

I rolled my eyes slightly and grinned lop-sidedly.  "That's not what I
mean.  I meant that you didn't get off or anything."

A look that was half amusement and half disbelief crossed his face, and he
began to laugh harder.  After a moment, he explained.  "First, I could have
taken my jock off at any time and let you have at my cock if I had wanted
that.  Second, it's sometimes o.k. if it's all about either you or me."

He reared up onto his knees and faced me.  "Third, I did get off.  A couple
of times."  Hooking his thumb under the waistband of his jockstrap, he
lowered the pouch to show me the smeared wetness across his well-trimmed
pubes.  "That ain't all sweat in there."

I looked up at him, confused.  "But how did--?"

"Look, I don't want to sound like I'm lecturing you, but you're young and
Ð no offense Ð pretty inexperienced.  The human body can do a lot of
things under the right circumstances."  Dawson stood and reached his hands
down to help me up off the floor.  "You'll learn, though.  There are some
things that some guys can't ever do, like cumming just from getting fucked,
and it doesn't happen all the time.  But sometimes it does.  Like I said
before, your parts matched mine pretty well, and you had some pretty good
instincts."  He kissed my lips briefly.  "I can only imagine what you'll be
like when you've bedded more men.  You'll be a fucking beast!"  He reached
his arms around me and pulled me into a hug.

We stood there for a couple of minutes, holding each other.  The sweat in
my shirt was starting to dry by the time we broke it.  Dawson gave me
another kiss on the cheek before he said "I'm going to check the time and
our progress.  I don't know how long we were fucking.  My mind was
otherwise occupied."  He gestured to a door at the back of the plane.  "We
should probably try to clean up a little in the bathroom if we can, though.
There's not much room in there, so we'll have to go one at a time."  He
winked at me and grinned, showing off his dimples.  "No showering together
this time, I'm afraid."

I smiled back and took his suggestion.  I walked into the bathroom, closing
the door behind me.  I pulled off my shirt and wet a washcloth (an actual
cloth, not the rough paper towels I was familiar with from commercial
flights).  I gave myself a sponge bath as best I could under the
circumstances while I considered what had happened.

I did not regret what Dawson and I had done at all, though I did worry a
little about what the professional repercussions might be for him.  It had
felt strangely cathartic. I felt like I had released an internal pressure
that had been building since my breakup.  There was no "great weight off my
shoulders" feeling, but it did feel as if a mental corner had somehow been
turned.

I slipped my shirt back on and opened the bathroom door.  Dawson was
waiting with his clothes draped across his arm.  Well, most of them; his
blue neckerchief was once again around his neck, with a loose knot on the
right-hand side.  A smirk twitched at the corner of his lips, showing off
one of his dimples again.  "We were going at it for about two and a half
hours."

"What?"  I questioned, incredulous.  "That long?"

"Yep," he replied, his face lighting up with a smile.  "Welcome to the Mile
High Club.  Now, I need to get cleaned up and dressed.  You might want to
put your pants back on, too."  He reached around my neck and pulled me into
a brief hug.  Whispering, he added "I'm not going to clean my ass out,
though.  I want to keep your babies inside of me for as long as I can."  He
pulled away and entered the bathroom.  Winking at me again, he closed the
door.

I found my clothes, dressed myself, and took my seat.  Dawson had taken the
liberty of swinging the table back into place.  Our glasses Ð with the
ice now melted Ð still rested on top of it.  Thirstily, I picked one up
and took a sip.  I leaned back in my seat and relaxed, closing my eyes to
rest a moment.


Soon, the captain's voice crackled over the intercom, notifying us that we
were about to begin our descent and that we should take our seats and stow
anything loose.  Dawson re-appeared, once again smartly dressed, and he
whisked away our glasses before taking a seat next to me.

"I hope you don't mind if I join you for the ride down," he said, fastening
his own safety belt.

"We just fucked halfway across the continent," I said jokingly.  "I think
you've earned the right to sit wherever the hell you want.  Assuming you
can sit comfortably."

Dawson chuckled, rolling his eyes sarcastically.  "My ass can take a lot of
punishment, but you gave it the old college try, didn't you?"

We laughed together -- and it felt good to laugh -- as the plane descended
and touched down.  As we taxied, the captain's voice crackled over the
intercom again, informing me that there would be a car waiting to take me
on from the airport.  I looked at Dawson briefly, wondering if we would
somehow meet again.

He almost seemed to read my mind.  "If nothing else," he commented,
"there's always the flight back, isn't there?"

"I won't tell if you won't," I replied quietly, eliciting a knowing giggle
from both of us.

I disembarked and got into the back seat of another hired car.  About 45
minutes later, I was at the front door of a McMansion-type house: larger
than most people would need, somewhat bland and somewhat grand at the same
time, and lacking in any distinctive character whatsoever.  Taped to the
front door was an envelope, with my name written across it.

I took the envelope from the door and opened it.  Inside was a key, and a
note:

"Sorry I can't be here to greet you, but I thought you might appreciate
some time to work things out your own way.  Work called me away, so the
house is yours until your flight back.  There's a gift for you on the table
by the door, and another arriving shortly."

I had no idea what I was going to do in a huge house by myself for a week.
I didn't know anyone in California, so I wasn't going to be throwing or
going to any parties.  Still, I appreciated where Jimmy was coming from and
his consideration of me, even if he couldn't be here.

I inserted the key in the lock and twisted it.  Opening the door, I entered
the house.  I put my suitcase inside and closed the door behind me.  The
entryway was spacious, with an overly ornate light fixture hanging high
overhead.  A small table was just inside, and on top of it was a small box
with a red bow.  I put the key down on the table, picked up the box, and
opened it.

I stared.  Inside the box was a DVD case.  The picture on the cover showed
a naked man relaxing on a bed.  He was well-toned, but not overly muscled,
with hair cropped very short to partially hide his premature balding.  One
arm was behind his head, and his hazel eyes looked directly at the camera.
A familiar grin creased the model's face.  I didn't need to read the title
to know who it was, though the title did spark my interest: "Dawson's 20
Load Weekend."

I tried to process what I was looking at.  My flight steward had been a gay
porn star?  How on earth had that happened?  It was easy to imagine that
someone in porn would need to have some other way to earn their living once
they left that business, but Dawson had looked even sexier in person than
he did on the box cover.  I was sure that he could easily still be making
porn if he wanted to.  I was sure I was missing an important piece of
information.

"Holy fuck," I said out loud as the reality dawned on me.  I had spent the
flight to California fucking an actual porn star.

I then noticed another note on the table. The box had been sitting on top
of it, hiding it.  Setting the box with the DVD down, I opened the note.
It, too, was from my uncle Jimmy, but it was more cryptic than the first:

"10É9É8É7É6É5É4É3É2É1ÉBingo!  Answer the door
for me, please."

I had just finished reading it when the doorbell rang.  "What the actual
fuck?" I swore.  What kind of game was Jimmy playing with me?  After paying
for my transportation here, he wasn't even going to see me, but he gave me
porn?  And now someone was at the door for him?  What was going on?  I
stood, semi-paralyzed, while my brain tried to wrap itself around the
obvious puzzle.

The doorbell rang again, followed immediately by a knock.  This prompted me
to move, though uncertainly.  Was this something for me like the note
teased, or just good timing for someone trying to visit Jimmy?  I opened
the door a couple of inches Ð not far enough to see who was there, and
spoke.  "Jimmy's not here."

A familiar voice said, "I'm not here to see Jimmy."

I flung the door open the rest of the way.  Dawson stood there with a red
bow pinned to his shirt, holding an envelope out to me.  A suitcase stood
behind him.  "You should probably open this.  I'll show myself in."

I took the envelope from Dawson and watched him walk into the house.  He
paused, sliding his hands into the back pockets of his trousers, and he
rocked back and forth on his feet.  I watched appreciatively for a few
moments before I opened the envelope and removed the note.

"By now you're probably confused.  Mission accomplished.

When you called and told me about your break-up and that you couldn't get
any physical or mental distance from that guy and the friend he was
fucking, I figured you needed some time away from all of that and also
something to take your mind off of it.

Dawson works for a porn studio (as you can probably tell from the movie I
left for you) that's based out of San Francisco.  He's their current big
star.  I pulled a couple of strings that you DON'T want to know about, met
him, told him about what I had in mind, and he was agreeable and very
sympathetic.  The way I figure it, he can be a good distraction for you for
the week, even if he's just eye candy for you.

His time has been paid for, including being with you on your flight back to
school in a week if you want.  The house is well-stocked with provisions,
and you'll find details for your trip back in the kitchen.  The phone for
the car service is there, too, in case you need to go anywhere, as well as
a stash of cash.

Have fun this week.  Make memories.  Forget about your troubles.
ÐJimmy"

"Good Lord," I exclaimed.  I didn't know how I was supposed to feel. I
wasn't going to get to see my uncle even after he laid out who knows how
much money.  I also couldn't believe that he hired a bona fide porn star to
keep me company and distracted in this huge house.  Did he think I thought
only with my dick (although I had to admit that the sex on the plane had
been fantastic).  I couldn't figure out if I should feel guilty, angry,
amused, or what.

I walked over to stand next to Dawson.  I kept my eyes deliberately
forward, not looking at him directly.  "So how much do you know about
what's going on, here?"

"Most of it, I think.  I made your uncle agree to tell you what I do for a
living before I agreed to spend the week with you.  I knew you had a bad
break-up, and you were probably going to be vulnerable.  This way, it might
be easier for you to not get too emotionally confused while I'm here."

"I thought you were a nice guy.  You tricked me, though."

"I like to think that I am nice.  The fact that I fuck for a living doesn't
change that."  I could see in the corner of my eye that he turned his head
to look at me.  "I had sex with you because I wanted to.  It wasn't because
I was paid."

"That's not what I meant, Dawson.  I wouldn't judge you for that."

"Good, because I like what I do.  But for the next week, I'm available just
for you.  We can do as much or as little as you want to do.  I'll be a
friendly shoulder if you need one to cry on, an ear if you want to talk, or
a friend if you want to laugh.  You can tell me to leave, and I'll go if
that's what you want."  He smirked.  "Or we can fuck each other until we're
dehydrated.  Or you can tell me to hang around but leave you alone.  What
happens Ð if anything Ð is entirely up to you.  I won't be your
boyfriend, but I can try to help you take your mind off of your last one.
Even if it's only for just a few days."

I stood silently for a moment, considering before I spoke.  "My uncle," I
began, "is a fucking lunatic.  I think he means well, and he's going out of
his way to try to help me out.  I'd have never asked for anything like
this, though.  I'm not sure what he expects by leaving me alone in a giant
house with a porn star."

"I don't know what that means," Dawson replied.  "Do you want me to stick
around, or what?"

I glanced over my shoulder to the table near the door, where Jimmy's other
gift was sitting on the table.  "What the hell," I said.  "Let's find
something to eat first.  Then, maybe we can watch a movie?"