Flight of Fancy

I made him cream his pants three times on the flight between Phoenix and Detroit, and he was in wet pants heaven.  After the first time, he pretty much held my hand on his crotch the entire flight.  And as I think back on it, I realize that he actually initiated the contact.  It was good that he wore dark blue denim cut-offs, and cotton briefs beneath.  The dark blue shorts did not reveal the large wet spot too much, and the cotton underwear kept the cum from leaking out, mostly.   The shorts were cut low and loose on his hips, and very short, in the European style, unlike those absurd American things that went down to the knees.  He sat with his legs spread, and I could see plump balls barely contained by white briefs.  A loose tee shirt completed the ensemble.

He appeared prepubescent, at first glance, maybe 12 years old.  There was not a hint of adult hair coming in:  no shadow of impending mustache, no darkening leg fuzz, no sign of muscles firming up.  He had fair skin and shiny black hair:  absolute perfection.  He was also an absolute horn dog.

It started with the seat belt.  He was having trouble with it, mainly because it had been pulled too short.  He asked me if I would help him with it.  Would I ever!

I showed him how to lengthen it, but he was still fumbling with it and after several attempts and not getting it together, he looked up at me again.

“Shall I do it for you?”  I asked.

“Would you?  I can’t get it right.  It’s too hard.”  And I could see that it was definitely hard. In his fumbling with the seat belt, he had managed to push his shirt up, exposing a patch of soft white tummy.  A solid hardon had developed under his shorts, the pole surprisingly large,  straight up alongside his zipper, pushing against his waistband.  Right under the seat belt.

I took the buckle parts from his hands, and closed it for him.  Then he asked how I’d gotten it together so fast, so I opened it and showed him slowly how to insert the end into the buckle and pull the strap tight.  This, of course, was happening directly against his erection, and when I held the buckle, my fingers pressed against his young manhood.  He made me show him several more times before he decided that he could do it on his own, but he still needed help getting the length adjusted.  It was either too long or too tight, and when it was too tight against his hardon, he’d insist that I feel for myself how tight it was by sliding my hand under the belt against his hard cock.  Finally we got it just right, shortly before the official safety spiel began.  He held onto my hand during takeoff and held it firmly against his crotch as we climbed to cruising altitude.

“I like it how your hand feels against me,” he said after awhile.  “It’s nice.”

“I think it feels good, too.  Do you want me to make it feel even better?” I asked.

“Sure!” he said.

Just then the captain turned the seat belt sign off, so I loosened his enough so that I’d have room to slide my hand into his pants.  He was sitting in the window seat, I had the middle, and amazingly, the aisle seat was open.  The flight was full, so there must have been a last minute no-show.  Maybe someone got stuck in the restroom.  Anyway, my ministrations  were fairly well hidden.  Letting go of his hand, I moved my hand upward onto the silky smooth skin of his abdomen and explored that region with my fingers for awhile, before sliding down into his pants.  Immediately I encountered the hard cock, now slippery with precum, which I rubbed around his head before sliding further down to his burgeoning balls.   At the very base of his penis, on either side, I felt some fine hairs, the only indication of puberty I had found so far.  Well, besides his well grown cock, of course.

I continued downward to the balls that filled his underwear, and pushed against his perineum a bit before returning to the solid shaft.  He had started to squirm in his seat and was breathing hard now.  I was worried that he might call attention to himself and what I was doing to  him, so I pulled the little blanket from the seat back pouch and we spread it over our laps.  Then I went back to jacking him off.  It didn’t take much longer before he started shooting his first load of the flight, pumping hot squirts into his pants and my hand.  After he climaxed he leaned his head against me, and I reached over with my other hand to stroke his dark hair a bit.

“Felt pretty good, eh?” I said.

“Felt fantastic.  That’s never happened before.”

“This was your first time?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “Can you do that to me again sometime?”

“Sure.  How about now?”  I started stroking his cock again, which had only partially softened.  With his recent cum as lube, I was soon giving him a full fist jacking, squeezing his head firmly as I moved my hand up and down.  This being his second cum, he responded more slowly, and it took  him probably two whole minutes before he came again, just as vigorously as before, adding to the cum he had just deposited in his shorts.  We sat quietly for some time as he regained normal breathing.  This time his dick really did go soft.

“You know about semen, don’t you?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.  I know ALL about semen,” he replied, a small smile on his face.

“What do you mean, you know all about it?” I asked.  “Do you know what it looks like?”

“I sure do,” he said.

“Do you know what it smells like?”

“Uh huh.  And what it tastes like.”

“And how do you know all that?”

“Because Robbie used to let me suck his dick all the time and he started shooting semen two years ago.”

“Who’s Robbie?”

“My friend back in Phoenix.  Before he had to move away.”

“You’ve been sucking your friend’s dick for two years?” I asked, incredulous.

“Yeah, three actually.  It’s fun.  And I’m going to suck yours when you take me home.”

“Excuse me?  What makes you think I’m going to take you home?”

“Because no one will be there to pick me up at the airport in Detroit.”

“What do you mean, no one will be there?  Of course someone will be there to pick you up.”

“Nuh-uh.  No one will be there, and the airline people will call, and no one will answer, and then you’ll take me home.  And then I’ll suck your dick.”  He looked absolutely smug, with the most adorable cat-that-swallowed-the-canary expression on his face.  He snuggled against me, and I wiped some cum off my hand onto his briefs, and withdrew that hand, transferring it from in his crotch to around his shoulder.  He reached up and pulled my arm tightly around him.

“See, I fixed it that way.  I made the reservation and gave a fake name of an aunt who was s’posed to pick me up.  But there isn’t any aunt, and I picked a number that is out of service, so there’s no way the airline can find anyone to come get me.  Pretty slick, don’t you think?”

“But what about your parents?” I asked.

“What parents?” he replied.  “My parents died with I was little, and I’ve been in foster homes ever since.  I finally decided that it was time to leave.”

“But you can’t just leave!  They’ll find you and put you back in foster care.”

“No they won’t.  I fixed that too.  I hate foster homes.  They’re s’posed to protect you and all, but they don’t.  They’re just in it for the money the state gives them. They’re all the same.  I hate them.  So I left.”

“This is crazy.  How could a twelve year old boy just leave?  Kids can’t do anything without a parent or guardian.”

“I’m not twelve, I’m fourteen.  Well, almost.  My birthday’s in two weeks.  You can take me out to celebrate.  I know, I look young for my age.  Robbie’s the same age as me but he’s way bigger.  He’s got hair and muscles and everything and he started shooting semen when he was eleven.  Except you know what?  His dick and really small, about half the size of mine.  I wonder why that is?  He sucked me sometimes, but nothing happened.”

“Forget Robbie.  Tell me how you managed to get out of the foster home. And how you got on this plane.”  I was getting more and more amazed with every word out of this kid’s mouth.  And confused.

“I’d still be there except for some bad paperwork.  See, here’s what happened.  I picked up the mail from the mailbox one day, and there was this letter from CPS--that’s Child Protective Services.  So naturally, I opened it.”

“Naturally,” I said sarcastically.

“Yeah, naturally.  So it was this form to update my records.  And it had spaces for new address, phone numbers, that kind of thing.  And then there was the checklist for “status.”  And one of the status items was “permanently adopted” and one was “deceased.”  I decided that it was be easiest if I were dead, so I checked the “deceased” box, filled out the rest of it, forged my foster mom’s signature, and sent it back.  Then I made the airline reservation.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Easy.  My friend Aaron’s brother has a job and a credit card, and he did it online for me.  I saved up money from cutting lawns and stuff, and gave him the cash, and he bought me the ticket.”

“How did you choose Detroit?”

“Threw a dart at a map.”

I opened my mouth to ask another question, and closed it again.  This kid had an answer for everything, and every answer was more amazing than the last.  I tried again.

“How did you know you’d find someone to take you home?”

“I just knew.  The one thing I remember about my mother is guardian angels.  ‘There’s a guardian angel looking over your shoulder,’ she always told me.  ‘Just remember to ask for help, and your guardian angel will protect you.’  So I asked my guardian angel to help me find my real home.  I think that’s why I hit Detroit with the dart.”

“I’m sleepy,” he announced.  “I’m gonna take a nap.  On your lap.”  He climbed onto my lap sideways, his back to the aisle, his knees drawn up on his previous seat, and snuggled down a bit more.  He placed my hand squarely on his damp crotch.  Within moments he was asleep.

Now I had a beautiful boy asleep in my lap who wanted me to take him home with me, who had just cum twice in my hand, who seemed to have everything figured out.  It was like it was out of my hands.  The situation, I mean.

So, I decided to just go with the flow and take it one step at a time.  The next step was the third jack off of the flight.  He woke up after maybe an hour and squeezed my hand. He told me he was ready.  So I slipped my hand into his damp pants and started jacking him off again.  The combination of rest and youth had him hard again in seconds.  And this time, since he was sitting on my lap with his back to the aisle, he could play with my own hard cock without anyone seeing.  Which he did.  His delicate hand was all over my cock, as I jacked his.  The excitement of being jacked while he was jacking me had him pretty well to the top in very short order, and while it was very pleasant, I did not want to cum in my pants, so I gently removed his hand.  As I did so, I apparently hit an especially sensitive spot, and he erupted yet again, adding fresh hot cum to that which still soaked his underwear.

He stayed on my lap until I felt the plane shift to a slight downward pitch, and knew that we had started the descent into Detroit.  I had him sit back in his own seat, and fastened the seat belt again, this time over a limp penis and very wet shorts.  A half hour later we were on the ground.

Just as he had predicted, no one was there to meet him.  The gate agent was concerned, but she was also busy.  He put on a convincing act.

“Call them again!  They have to answer, they just have to!”  When there was still no answer after two more tries, he started to panic.  “How am I gonna get home?  What am I gonna do-o-o-o?   I don’t want to be here all alone.”  His eyes teared up as the gate agent tried to reassure him, without much success, and a couple of tears rolled down his cheeks.

I put my arm around his shoulders and he wrapped himself around me.  “No one’s going to leave you all alone,” I told him, tilting his head up to look at me and wiping the tears away.  “I’ll stay with you until your aunt gets here.”

“Will you?  Really?  Man, that’d be great.”  He buried his face against me as I hugged him.  I just don’t know what’s happened to my aunt,”  he said, smiling, with his face turned away from the gate agent.

I told her that I’d stay with the boy until someone showed up, and she was grateful for my help.  I suggested that I take him for something to eat, and she readily agreed.  She even gave us twenty bucks of food vouchers.  We walked down the concourse to see what food was available, and settled on Chili’s.  Even though we weren’t in Phoenix anymore, we both had tacos.  We wandered back to the gate after about an hour, and learned that the phone number listed on the contact information form was in fact disconnected.  It was getting late, and I needed to catch my connecting flight to Latrobe, PA.  I told the gate agent that I would accept responsibility for the boy and get him home, and she almost kissed me, she was so relieved.  I signed the papers, and we left the gate.  I had to get him a ticket for the short flight to Latrobe, which was no problem, and we were soon on our way.  The puddle jumper plane had only single seats, so there was no further jacking off on that flight, but I did hold his hand across the aisle during takeoff and landing.  After less than an hour, we were on the ground again.  I live in Blairsville, barely twenty minutes from the airport, and we were home before he could even fall fully asleep in the car.

Author's Note:  Choose your preferred ending!
Ending One follows immediately,
or Ending Two is further below.

I showed him the guest room, but he made it clear that he would be sleeping with me. 

“And how am I supposed to suck your dick if I’m in the guest room?” he demanded, in a tone that made it clear he thought I was out of my mind to suggest it.  We both peed and undressed.  I took a look at him totally naked.

Quintessential boy, he was better than perfect.  Smooth and soft, no arm muscles yet, no facial hair.  Slender as a boy should be but not skinny either.  No pecs yet, but only a couple of ribs visible.  Dime sized pale nipples, innie belly button, and no other interruptions to his alabaster skin.  His tummy still had the soft roundness of boyhood; any six pack still far ahead.  He had a narrow waist that I could almost cover with one hand.  His face kept a naturally serious expression, but he had a smile that could light up a room.  And at his crotch hung a solid six inches of definitely pubescent penis, in front of low hanging balls.  Wispy black hairs adorned his crotch at both sides of the cock, and his ball sack as well.  Beyond the shiny black hair on his head, the incoming pubic bush was the only body hair,  He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.

As I inspected him, his penis began to erect.  First, it straightened out, still hanging down, and gaining perhaps a half inch in the process.  Then, as if picking up momentum, it began rising quickly, going from 45 degrees to horizontal in a few seconds, and then to full up vertical, hard and tight against his belly.

But tt was nearly midnight, and we were both tired from the flights, so I decided that we would defer the promised blow job in favor of sleep. 

I picked him up like a little boy, my arms under his legs and his back, and carried him to bed.  I put him down, got in beside him, and pulled the covers over us.  He pulled my hand down to his hardon as he snuggled against me.  I held him tight in my arms as he drifted off to sleep.

Incredible, absolutely incredible.  I come back from a trip to see the extended family in Arizona and end up with a horny boy in my bed at home who wants to suck my cock.  It could only happen in a Nifty story.  But it’s real, and I have a beautiful, legally unencumbered, sexually awakened boy in my bed, in my arms, in my home.  The guardian angels must be gay.


Ending Two

I woke him up again, and we went straight to my bedroom.  He began talking as he shed his clothes.

“Dad, that was really fun today,” he said, pulling his tee shirt over his head.  “I think this was one of our best improvs ever.”

“Yeah, Sport, I had fun too.  You were really good.  You had that gate agent just about ready to shit, with your ‘What am I gonna dooooo?’ routine.  She probably thought she’d have to look after you all night.

“Yeah, I was good, wasn’t I?  How did you like the tears?”  He tossed his cummy pants into the hamper.

“A very nice touch.  I didn’t know you could cry on demand.”

“I learned how in Drama Club at school.  Some of us can do it, some can’t.  I just think of something really sad, like when Rascal got hit by the car that time.  The part I liked best was on the plane.”

“Did you think up the seat belt part by yourself?”

“Well, mostly.  I saw a story by Sid Gittler on Nifty that sort of gave me the idea.  It’s so cool when you jerk me off in public.  I get turned on just thinking about that.”
 
Indeed, talking about it had started yet another erection in my horny son’s pubescent penis.  He had gotten naked as we talked, as had I, and I just stared at his beauty.

Quintessential boy, he was better than perfect.  Smooth and soft, no arm muscles yet, no facial hair.  Slender as a boy should be but not skinny either.  No pecs yet, but only a couple of ribs visible.  Dime sized pale nipples, innie belly button, and no other interruptions to his alabaster skin.  He had a narrow waist that I could almost cover with one hand.  His face kept a naturally serious expression, but he had a smile that could light up my world.  And between his legs hung a solid six inches of definitely pubescent penis, in front of low hanging balls.  Wispy black hairs adorned his crotch at both sides of the cock, and his ball sack as well.  Beyond the shiny black hair on his head, the incoming pubic bush was the only body hair,  He was the most beautiful boy I had ever seen.  He was the most beautiful boy in God’s creation.

As I inspected him, his penis was erecting.  First, it straightened out, still hanging down, and gaining perhaps another inch in the process.  Then, as if picking up momentum, it began rising quickly, going through 45 degrees to horizontal in a couple seconds, and then to full up vertical, hard and tight against his belly.

But tt was nearly midnight, and we were both tired from the flights, so I decided that we would defer the promised blow job in favor of sleep. 

I picked my son up the way he used to like when he was a little boy, my arms under his legs and his back, and carried him to bed.  I put him down, got in beside him, and pulled the covers over us.  He pulled my hand down to his hardon as he snuggled against me.  I held him tight in my arms as he drifted off to sleep.  I knew that he was growing up and that we’d probably not have many more improvisation game days like today.  But he would always be perfect, at any age, in every way.  I drifted to sleep myself, perfectly content, holding perfection in my arms.