Date: Wed, 08 May 2019 04:08:49 +0000 From: ho3wsn+a6qgrh2jeoseg@guerrillamail.com Subject: Robin's Adventures - Part 27 | I was exhausted by the time we reached Paris, and it wasn't due to the 9 hour time difference with California. I'd made a new friend, and we kept each other entertained through most of the flight, under blankets in the back of the plane. My dad had driven my older sister Lori, my younger brother Chris and I up to LAX for the overnight flight. Lori and I were going to a Swiss climbing camp we'd been attending every summer for a couple of years, while Chris was going to a day camp and staying with my dad in the French Alps. Though the camp took in kids from 8 to 18, my 10-year-old brother was only now growing out of bedwetting, and he couldn't chance it this year. It'd been the same with me, until I grew out of diapers near his age. In line to get checked in, I was reading Azimov's "The Gods Themselves," and was pretty zoned out when a piece of luggage hit me behind the knees, and I jerked dropping my book. "Sorry, man!" A lean boy in a black leather jacket and black jeans, holding a rectangular guitar case stooped down to pick up my book and hand it too me. As he stood up, he smiled and I was instantly smitten.Taller than me by a couple of inches, he had pouting lips and thin, dark eyebrows. His straight black hair was held in place with a red bandana folded as a head band, and his locks hung half-way down his neck. He was kind of pale, with ice blue eyes, and a cute little upturned nose. Handing me the book, he looked down at the cover. "You like science fiction?" he asked. "Um, yeah, I do," I said, cautiously. "Me too!" he said. "I'm Eric Aubertin." "I'm Robin Sanford," I smiled and we shook. And for the next 10 minutes, we nattered on about our favorite books and authors. Just before we got the counter, I found out Eric was on our flight, and we promised to meet up in the flight lounge. In the 70s, airlines didn't charge for luggage in a planes' holds, and so almost everyone checked their luggage. Lori, Chris and I had most of our clothes in duffel bags we checked. However, dad insisted we carry on our daypacks with our boots and gear, a change of street clothes and our toiletries, in case the airline lost our luggage. And it would turn out this was a smart idea. Security then was simple: your carryons were x-rayed and you walked through a metal detector. You didn't show ID or even need a ticket, which is why Eric's mom, who wasn't flying with him, escorted her son to the gate. They came over and sat with us, and we learned that Eric's parents were divorced. His dad was a fashion executive, while his mom was a graphic designer. Eric spent most of the year living with his mom in Mission Hills, and the summer with his dad. Eric was an avid guitarist, and Lori, who also played, was eager to get into totally boring instrument minutia. Thankfully, the plane started loading, and Eric and his mom got in line with us. "What grade are you in, Robin?" Eric asked me, as we slowly filed forward. "Going into 9th," I said. "Uh, are you grade-skipping?" he asked. I chuckled, since this happened a lot. "I'm about to turn 14, Eric." "Oh, I thought you were, um, I mean -" He was so embarrassed, he turned bright red. "That's OK, man. All the boys in my mom's family lag behind in the growth department," I replied. "How old are you?" "13. I'm going into 8th grade next year." "Great! At least there'll be one boy near my age to talk to on the flight." I couldn't help but notice how tight his denim fit. His trousers were so snug, I could make out the bump of his dick. Thinking about what it might look like in the flesh made my own penis twitch. Finally, we got loaded on to a flight that was only half-filled. My dad and I sat together in one row, with Lori and Chris behind us. I spotted Eric almost all the way in the back, by himself. We waved and settled in for take-off. After we got to cruising altitude, my dad got up to hit the toilet. When Dad returned, he said, "Your new friend Eric is all by himself back there. Maybe it'd be nice to go visit him. You could even watch the movie together." "And leave you all alone?" I deadpanned. He laughed, and I left. Eric smiled as I walked down the aisle. He was in a window seat, and I took the outer seat, leaving one between us. "Hey," I said, "mind some company?" "Oh man, shit no!" he said. "But I don't want to shout. Move over here," and he thumped the center seat. He'd taken off his shoes, and followed suit. May as well get comfy. We gabbed non-stop until the food carts came by. We loved the same music, which wasn't popular in CA at the time: The Ramones, The NY Dolls, Richard Hell and Patti Smith. After we'd eaten, Eric asked me if I had a girl friend. "No. I don't like girls," I said. Usually, most Americans interpreted that to mean I was immature. But I was being directly honest. I'd spent my first 12 years growing up in Zurich, and I had no time for bullshit. "Neither do I," Eric said, and gave me a goofy grin. We both giggled, as we understood each other immediately. And then, the movie started. Before the 80s, there wasn't any media choice. One movie (sometimes two), was projected onto a center screen in the middle of a 747, with smaller TV screens every 5 rows or so. Eric and I pulled on the stethoscope-like pneumatic head phones, and hunkered down for "Jaws," which we'd both already seen. Still, it was scary, and we huddled together. It was also chilly in the plane, so we broke out the blankets to share the warmth. Through every scare, we cuddled closer, and at some point, I realized we were holding hands. Then, Eric's hand left mine, and I felt a momentary sadness, until his fingertips landed on my thigh, slowly running up and down my skinny length. About the time Chief Brody and Hooper killed the shark, Eric was resting his head on my shoulder and I was kissing his scalp. When "Jaws" ended, we squeezed each others' hand. I liked this boy. Like my friends Mark and Zach, he was very honest about his desires. And sadly, it made me doubt my relationship with my boyfriend Jason, who was always paranoid about people knowing he was a "fag." Eric was stroking his thumb up and down the "lifeline" of my palm when Chris appeared. "Dad says to try to get some sleep." He held up my toilette kit. I nodded, and got up to join my little brother in one of the heads. Chris giggled. "You have a boner." "Shut up, Squirt. Brush your teeth." I peed and we switched places in that cramped space. Then he stripped off his trousers and underwear so I could put him into cloth diapers and plastic pants. It'd been almost a month since he'd wet the bed, but he didn't want to take chances with peeing himself sleeping in public. When we left the WC, Eric got up to brush his teeth. I kissed my brother on the cheek. "Sleep well, Squirt." "`Nacht, Robin." I looked at my watch. In California, it was 6 PM, but in Paris, it was 4 AM. Somehow, I had to get to sleep. Everyone had pulled down the window shades, the cabin lights were dim, and there was no second movie. I curled up under my blanket and closed my eyes, just as Eric got back. I felt his hand caressing my long blond hair, combing it behind my ear. Then his fingers caressed down my neck, and I sighed. Slipping his hand under the blanket, he delicately traced my shoulder, then up and down my arm. Soon, his hand reached my hip, and I was hard. Rubbing, round my hip, he reached back and gave my butt a gentle squeeze, and I knew I wasn't getting to sleep any time soon. As I sat up, I noticed no one was in our in the seats ahead or behind us, or in our row across the plane. I turned to Eric and leaned in to kiss his pert lips. My hand flowed inside his leather jacket, and across his lean chest. He was rubbing the inside of my thigh, as our tongues met to tickle and tussle. Eric quickly shrugged off his jacket, and pulled his blanket over both of us. We flipped up the arm rest between us, and he reclined into my arms. I felt his fingers undo my belt and trousers, and then his hand slid in to skim along the contours of my boyhood, as it stretched against the sheer confines of my tight little German undies. "Nice," he whispered. "But we should give it more room." And before I knew it, Eric was on his knees, pulling my trousers off. Then, he sat up and pulled off his own, kicking both our clothing under the seat in front. I giggled at the naughtiness. "You've done this before?" I asked. "I've only been with two guys before, and never on an airplane." He chuckled. Under the blankets, his hand stroked up and down my thigh, climbing ever closer to my cock, as it throbbed and pulled its cotton container. Once again kissing the 8th grade rocker, I slid my hand up his soft young thigh, until I reached the steamy heat pouring off his balls, held inside their own woven wrapper. He moaned into my mouth and opened his legs so that I could cup his package. Using the palm of my hand, pressed and stroked a firm, thick hardness, while my fingertips rubbed his balls, and back toward his ass. Eric's fingertips were again stroking the outline of dick as it flexed passionately. Pulling away from his lips, I kissed his jaw and whispered, "i'm sorry it's not bigger." He smiled and looked into my eyes. "It feels perfect." Then his hand slid into my briefs, and I gasped as he gently roamed around my bald pubic mound and tight little walnut purse, before tickling up and down my little 9 CM length. "You don't have any hair?" He whispered. I shook my head and shrugged. He smiled again, "That's kinda cool." Then we kissed again, and he clutched my stalk with a thumb and to fingers and began to gently stroke. I moaned, and slipped my fingers through the fly of his briefs, and felt his throbbing desire. It was definitely longer than Jason's, but not as fat, and I felt a few hairs at the base. Snaking his dick out of his fly, I could feel his circumcised head was slightly moist from pre-cum. Wetting my fingers with saliva, I delicately slid my fingertips around and around his sensitive crown, and he groaned, squeezing my dick by reflex. Through the corner of my eye, I could see the flight attendants rolling a drink cart down the aisle, and I whispered a quick warning to Eric. We closed our eyes and feigned sleep as they slowly served a handful of passengers still awake. All the while, our fingers were slowly torturing each other with minute strokes to our desperately hungry cocks. I felt more pre-cum ooze out of his love nozzle, and used it with the palm of my hand to polish his rigid helmet. In the 10 or so minutes it took for the flight attendants to go by, I'd brought Eric to the brink a couple of times, and I was dizzy and my whole body quaked. "I thought they'd never leave" he whispered, and I chuckled. "I'm really close Robin. I need to get a rag ready." He started to reach for his bandana, but I stopped him. "I'll take care of it," I whispered, then ducked under the blanket. I couldn't see Eric's cock in the dark, but I could certainly feel his pulse, as I wrapped my thumbs and three fingers of each hand around his tumescence, then sealed my lips around his drooling knob. I heard him sharply inhale. His thin sauce held almost no taste, and I sucked it down greedily, while running my tongue around his head, and stroking him vigorously. Erics hips began to buck, and I stroked him faster, then took off one of my hands to cup and knead his full, straining basket. Eric hugged my shoulder, and I heard him choke a squeal, as his hips thrust up from the seat, forcing his big dick further into mouth. And then the first thin jet of hot boy lava hit the back of my mouth, and I pulled back and forth with my tightly sealed lips, sucking the next 3 blasts of increasingly watery soup. I liked the slightly salty flavor, and milked every last drop out, then held him while he recovered. Emerging from the blanket, I saw him smiling with half-closed eyes. Turning to give me a gentle kiss, he told me I was the first guy to swallow his load. I told him his was tasty, and he chuckled. "So that's two firsts tonite," he said. "I wanna try for a third. Do you shoot a lot?" Sheepishly, I admitted I didn't shoot at all. Before he could get embarrassed, I added that it was no big deal. I'd start soon. I hoped. I felt his penis almost become completely soft again, but it didn't shrink much. He must look great in the shower, I thought, as I carefully slid his beast back through his underpants' fly. "I've never swallowed it before." He and his suck buddies would spit it out, or yank each other when they orgasmed. "But I was going to try it with you." While we whispered, he'd returned to stroking my achingly hard little dick. Then he ducked under the blankets, and I felt the front of my undies pulling down, to hook under my tight little sack. I quietly moaned when Eric's tongues slid around my rigid little mushroom, then up and down my shivering stem. Working me like an ice cream cone for several minutes, he made my whole body shake. Then I felt his mouth around my nuts, as they clung to the underside of my crotch. Sucking and licking them, Eric had to press his whole face into my thigh to chase my nuggets, as they tried to retreat back into my body. At the same time, a thumb and forefinger stroked my length. My fists clenched and unclenched, and I ground my teeth from the delicious agony. When his lips finally pursed around my head, I was stifling urgent moans. Perhaps sensing the precipice upon which I stood, he sucked me hard, his head bobbing furiously. Reaching under the blankets, I ran my fingers through his lanky hair, and felt the building fury behind and within my tender nuts. Then it detonated with a brutality that numbed everything in my body. White light blinded me as sheer pleasure erupted from my dick, and as I choked off a shriek, I fell into darkness. Some time later, I groggily awoke to fingers stroking my hardness, as Eric gently kissed me. "Hey, you fell asleep. I hope you weren't bored," he whispered, smiling. "Uh quite the opposite, man." Then I explained how my low blood pressure and tendency to hold my breath when I came made me pass out. It was like involuntary auto-asphyxiation. "I mean, I could have screamed and woken the plane," I said. We both giggled. "I really like sucking your dick, Robin," he whispered, then nibbled on my ear. "And I really like sucking your's. How big is it, anyway?" "About 5 inches soft and 6 hard," he whispered. "My dad says I'm a `show-er, not a grower.'" I reached under and found his undies tented once again. I gently stroked his hardened canopy. "Can I see?" I asked. He looked around, and then nodded with a smile, "If I can see your's." We flipped on the reading light and pulled the blankets down to our thighs. His pipe stretch out the bone white cotton of his Jockey briefs, and I could see the outline of his glans as it pressed against his thick, soft undies. He quickly pulled the front elastic down under his nuts, mirroring mine. "Nice," I whispered, as I quickly memorized his rock hard six inches, rising from just a few dark strands at the base, and a completely hairless scrotum that was smaller than I'd expect with the rest of his gear. "So's your's," he whispered back, while shutting off the light. "I wish I didn't have any hair down there." He was probably lying about the first part, but not the second. I was coming to learn that a lot of boys, like Jason, didn't like the scary transition to adulthood. We began kissing again, slowly stroking one another, and gently caressing each others' nuts. When I softly pulled Eric's bag against his waistband, and rubbed his cotton-covered taint with my middle finger, he moaned, and felt I pre-cum oozing once again. Sliding under the blanket, I licked his length for several minutes, then used my tongue tip to trace circles around his testicles. Eric shivered, and I felt goosebumps grow on his thighs. He smelled rich, and tasted sweat-salty when I pulled his bag into my mouth and gently sucked. At the same time, I used his pre-cum to twirl my finger tips around his head, then stoked him with my whole hand. At the same time, Eric was leaning over my contorted position to stroke my dick ever more furiously. Pulling away from his saliva-saturated nuts, I sealed my lips behind Eric's head, and slowly slid my mouth to about half-way down his length. There was no way I could get him into my throat, so I stroked his base, while bringing suction and my tongue to bear on his upper half. I sucked and licked and rotated my mouth around his boyhood until he writhed. Eric's hips began to thrust, and I heard him panting. "I'm almost there, Robin," his whisper muffled through the blanket. Bobbing my head faster, stroking him harder, and gently squeezing his contracting ball sack, I heard him suck in his breath, and then stifle a whine. Two thin jets of watery juice shot into my greedy mouth, and I gently milked his next few dry pulses, before letting him grow soft in my mouth and hand. After pulling his underwear back in place, I sat up, and we kissed tenderly. "You must have been doing this a long time," he said. I shook my head. "A year ago, I didn't even know how to jerk off." He stared suspiciously at me, and I shrugged. "I have a couple of very horny friends." I smirked. "Count me as another one," he whispered, nuzzling the side of my head. With one hand gripping my penis, and and the other gently cupping my tight little sack, he stroked me faster, kissing the side of my face. When his tongue traced round my earlobe and into my ear canal, I burst drily into his hands, and slipped under once again. Eric woke me up twice more on that flight, always with his hand in my underpants, and his lips on my cheek. The first time, we stroked and kissed for at least a half hour, before sucking each other off. By then, his cum was barely a trickle. The next time I came around, I whispered, "You are an insatiable dick hound." He was just as horny as my friend Zach. "Yeah, I beat it at least 3 times a day." Then Eric spread my leg and lay on me in between them. Blankets couldn't disguise his pumping hips. Grinding the front of his underpants into mine, our painfully hard cocks slid furiously against one another. Clutching his lean buns in my hands, I pulled myself into Eric, matching his every thrust. We were both starting to sweat when the blankets fell, revealing two rutting young boys stress-testing an airline chair. Thankfully, nobody was seated behind us. Inside their cotton-prisons, our dicks fought, and the friction built into a fire that should ignited our undies. I don't know who came first, because my dry explosion hurled me back into a well-deserved rest.