by Xavier Mayne
“I owe you two an apology. I should not have pressured you to let me penetrate you without a condom. It was wrong of me, and I won’t do it again.” He glanced sourly back at Ballard to confirm that his stilted apology met his standards, and when Ballard nodded, he turned wordlessly and continued his march back to the cockpit.
Ballard followed but turned back as he left the lounge. “You two make yourself comfortable. I’ll send Jake back, and you can, uh… feel free to make him comfortable as well.” He smiled innocently, as if unaware of the innuendo, and left the room.
“You know,” said Bryce, “I can see why airlines have such poor reputations when it comes to customer service. Really, when was the last time we were able to have sex with one pilot, much less two?”
“Even in first class, they don’t sleep with you,” Nestor agreed with a mournful shake of his head.
“We must make the most of this opportunity.”
“Well, hey there, gentlemen,” Jake said as he entered the lounge.
Bryce hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the relief pilot when he was sitting in the cockpit, facing the other direction. He stood just under six feet tall and was built like a wrestler: lots of muscle, absolutely no fat. His smile was even broader now that he had been released from his duties in the cockpit.
“Can I offer you a drink?” he asked, opening a cabinet hidden in the bulkhead between the lounge and the dining room next door.
“If you would join us,” Bryce replied. “But I don’t imagine a pilot is allowed to get tipsy while he’s on duty.”
“Luckily, I’ve been relieved for the duration of the trip. Ballard said something about Rooster being a bigger than usual asshole and that I’d already put in more hours than a relief pilot should have to. Said I was free to relax back here with our guests, which I assume is you.” Jake poured three glasses of a fine bourbon, neat. “Sorry there’s no ice—the cabin crew usually gets that all set up.”
Bryce took the heavy crystal tumbler. “No apologies, my dear. Anything served by a strapping buck like yourself will be a delight to bring to my lips.”
“And to swallow,” added Nestor, taking a long sip of his drink.
Jake laughed. “So Ballard was right. He said you guys would flirt the pants off anyone who came within ten feet of you.”
Bryce tried to blush. “He said that?”
“Yes, he did. Ballard’s a funny one.” Jake took a sip of his drink as he sat on a couch opposite the one where Bryce and Nestor perched. “He comes off as totally conservative and kind of angry all the time, and I know Rooster pissed him off constantly. I figured he was just down on the gay thing—he seethed anytime Rooster would brag about how many guys he’d nailed on every trip. But turns out what bugged him wasn’t that Rooster was fucking guys, it’s that he treated the guys he fucked really badly. Ballard filled me in on what happened to you—that really sucks. I’m sorry.”
“We are none the worse for wear,” Bryce assured him. “When one hunts big dicks, one must assume that some will turn out to be big dicks. He’s not the first we’ve run across.”
“He not even the first we tie up,” Nestor added, as if commenting on the weather.
“You two are amazing,” Jake said, grinning. “I guess that’s why Ballard sent me back here. I’ve been working with him for the better part of a year and he’s never said anything about me being gay. I certainly wasn’t going to bring it up, given how much Rooster pisses him off. So when he said I could come back here and kick back with you guys, I was kind of shocked. Even more so when he said he and Rooster wouldn’t be leaving the cockpit until we land. And then he winked at me and gave me this little smile. Turns out Ballard knows what’s up after all.”
“He is a true gentleman,” Bryce agreed. “It’s a shame he thinks he’s straight.”
“Oh man. If you saw his wife, you’d be straight too. She’s a knockout.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Bryce replied, his tone conveying how little he’d like to be straightened by Mrs. Ballard.
“Fair enough.” Jake slugged back the last of his bourbon. “So, how shall we pass the time?” He sat back and spread his arms along the top of the couch, the muscles of his chest bulging through the thin white shirt of his uniform.
“On that topic, we may have some ideas,” Bryce replied before downing his drink—Nestor did the same. “Shall we see if the bedroom offers us some diversions?”
Jake smiled brilliantly.
Ballard had apparently made Rooster return the bedroom to its previous pristine condition, for there was no evidence of its prior use other than the neatly coiled ropes Nestor had furnished. There wasn’t so much as a wrinkle on the bedspread.
“Now, I don’t want you guys to think that you have to do anything with me because of the whole deal with Rooster. I’ll understand if you just want to—”
Bryce cut him off by kissing his adorable mouth. “Now hush,” he said when he’d finished making his point. He ran his hands down Jake’s impossibly muscled chest. “Rooster was nothing but an unfortunate detour from our progress toward the real prize. You are a beauty unrivaled.”
“I’ll bet you say that to all the guys,” Jake said with a devastatingly modest grin.
“You’re not wrong about that,” Bryce said with a shrug, “but with you we really mean it. Don’t we, Nestor?” Bryce turned to find Nestor already naked. Bryce made a stern tsk-tsk, and turned back to Jake. “I must apologize for Nestor. He’s a bit eager when it comes to well-built, blond-haired, blue-eyed gods.”
“I like the way he thinks,” Jake replied, tugging at his tie and collar. He soon had his shirt off (and neatly laid over the back of a convenient chair) and his shoes, socks, and pants followed. He stood before Bryce and Nestor in tighty-whities and an even tighter white undershirt. The brickwork of his abdominals was clearly visible through the shirt, and the intensity of Bryce’s gaze boring through the fabric seemed to catch his eye. “Something wrong?” he asked, looking down at his torso.
“Oh no, dear. Everything is completely right.”
Jake rolled onto the balls of his feet and back down several times. “I guess I’m just a little nervous,” he said. “I’ve never been with two guys before.”
Bryce gasped in shock. “Well, that seems terribly inefficient. Given that there are millions of men who would love to have the chance, you could work through the backlog in half the time.”
“I never looked at it that way,” Jake said with a laugh.
“Well, in the future, see that you do,” Bryce scolded, as if recommending annual prostate exams or tire rotation. He began slipping out of his clothes.
“So, um,” Jake stumbled, “how do we… do this?”
“In sex, as in all things, it’s important not to think,” Bryce counseled. “Cast your mind back to, let’s see—” His gaze wandered up and down Jake’s body. “—wrestling practice, I want to say?”
“Yep. Wrestled high school and college. State champ twice.”
“Of course you were, dear. Now, think about all of those times that you engaged in high-spirited horseplay with your teammates—perhaps after a big competition when everyone gathered to let off steam, all sweaty and elated and no-homo. Do I capture the experience?”
Jake grinned again. “That pretty much sums it up. Being a gay wrestler is like the hardest thing in the world.”
“I’m sure it was,” Bryce clucked, nodding sympathetically. “I’m sure it was. So now I want you to think of myself and Nestor as your wrestling buddies. Break out your best moves, and this time it’s all-homo!” Bryce threw himself on the bed.
“Fuck yeah,” Jake said and mounted the bed. He effortlessly picked Bryce up and flipped him over, then stretched his body out atop him.
“That’s the spirit, dear,” Bryce called from under the delicious weight of so much man. “Nestor, a little help?”
Nestor leapt into the fray, clearly eager to lend a hand to his fellow man.
&nbs
p; Nearly three hours later, as the wrestling match ground to its climax—actually, its third—the sound of the plane’s engines ebbed and the nose dipped slightly.
“I guess we’ve begun our descent,” Jake murmured into Bryce’s ear, then nuzzled his cheek gently. Their bodies were entangled such that he could nuzzle both Bryce’s cheek and Nestor’s buttcheek by simply turning his head. “I should make myself presentable.” He tried to rise, but found himself still pinned beneath the other men.
“Oh, of course, dear, let me just….” Bryce extracted his limbs from the massive knot they had collectively become and then stepped lightly off the bed. He reached a hand back to help Jake up, but found him kissing his way across Nestor’s round ass. “Now, darling, Nestor’s posterior has no bigger fan in the world than yours truly, but don’t you need to slip back into your uniform?”
Jake sighed sadly and planted one more kiss on each of Nestor’s globes, then sat up. “You’re right, duty calls.” He got to his feet and stretched as far as the ceiling would allow.
Bryce looked him appreciatively head to toe and back again. “It’s a wonder you were ever able to contain yourself within the confines of a singlet,” he mused.
“It wasn’t easy,” Jake replied with a laugh. “I always had to use compression shorts that were two sizes too small. But even they didn’t help when I had to wrestle the captain of the team. He had twenty pounds on me, easy, and half of that was cock. I would get boned up just seeing him walk out onto the mat, and by the time we actually started, my dick would be sticking out sideways trying to get at him. Fuck.”
Bryce looked expectantly at him, waiting for more. “Well, did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you fuck? It’s rude to leave an audience hanging like this,” Bryce scolded good-naturedly.
Jake laughed. “Just once. I was finally getting used to the idea of being gay, and one night after a late practice, he kinda let it slip that he was struggling with it too. So I managed to convince him that if he did it once, he would know for sure. Man, he railed me that night—once he got started, he was unstoppable.” Jake rubbed his ass as if recalling the experience. “After that night, he just disappeared—never came back to school. They said he ran away from home out to San Francisco, but I never found out for sure.”
“Well, it must have been something drastic for him to never come back after one night with you. We’ve just had the afternoon, and I do believe there will always be a place for you inside of me.”
Jake grinned. “You say the sweetest stuff. You’re a complete beast in bed, but you’re adorable.” He walked over and kissed Bryce tenderly. “And now, I really have to go.” He gathered up his clothes, put his pilot’s cap on, and walked naked out of the bedroom.
“He does know how to leave a room,” Bryce said with a sigh as he watched those powerful buttocks disappear around the corner.
“Is this England?” Nestor mumbled as he turned over in bed.
“We are almost there, my darling,” Bryce cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed and petting Nestor’s thigh. “We’ll be in Tokyo soon, and then it’s just a quick jaunt to merry old England, I promise.”
“Mmm.” Nestor wrapped himself around Bryce and sighed contentedly.
“Now, darling, I would love to start what we finished with Jake, but we must arise and prepare ourselves for the next phase of our journey.”
“We buy tickets this time?” Nestor asked, sitting up and stretching.
“Why change now? We’ve come this far—and this many times—relying on the kindness of strangers. Who knows what adventures we would forsake were we to actually buy passage?”
Nestor kissed Bryce on the cheek. “Te amo.”
“Oh! You’re playing dirty. You know how your native tongue inflames me.” Bryce threw his arms around Nestor. “I’m sure we have a little time before we must be in the full upright position.” He looked down. “And you’re there already. How lovely!” They found pleasant enough diversions to pass the remaining flight time and were able to make themselves presentable just as the plane taxied to a stop.
Ballard met them in the lounge. “Thank you for flying with us,” he said as he shook Bryce’s hand. “Now, you know where to find the next flight, right?” He shook Nestor’s hand, still smiling warmly.
“Your instructions have been admirably detailed,” Bryce replied. “I can’t thank you enough for all that you’ve done.”
“Well, I’m sorry about the mess with Rooster. I’ll make sure he doesn’t treat anyone that way again.”
“Let’s not keep him on too short a leash, shall we? It would be a shame to deprive the world of the proper use of his talents.”
“You are a generous soul, Bryce. Best of luck to you.”
“And to you, sir.” Bryce regarded the only man on board he had not managed to have sex with over the last eight hours. “I hope to see you again.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Ballard replied.
“Indeed it would,” Bryce murmured as he and Nestor walked down the airstairs to the limousine that awaited them on the tarmac. As they approached, the driver of the car stepped out and opened the rear door for them. He took their bags, and they took their seats on the soft leather while he placed the luggage in the trunk.
“One would think the company that hired Rooster, Mr. Ballard, and Jake would take greater care in their selection of chauffeurs.”
“He got a belly,” Nestor agreed.
“Well, every voyage must have its setbacks,” mused Bryce, settling into the seat. “We can only hope the next pilots will make up for it.”
“Mr. Ballard is nice to making arrangement for us.”
“Yes, he was. The poor dear seemed distraught at Rooster’s behavior, and I really think he felt this was the least he could do. We won’t, however, have the place to ourselves this time. He said the plane was carrying the national men’s gymnastics team of Australia to a competition in London and had a couple of empty seats. We’re fortunate they were delayed leaving Tokyo because of engine trouble.”
They drove in silence across the airport. Bryce noticed Nestor was staring vacantly at his hands.
“What is it, darling? You’re all pale, which is not a good look for someone of your natural bronze hue.”
“The engine, they fix it?”
“Oh, of course they will, dear. Why else would those sturdy men in coveralls be gathered around it?” Bryce pointed out the window at the plane they had pulled up next to; there were indeed six men in coveralls swarming around the open cowling of the engine in question. “I’m sure they’ll have it working perfectly by the time we take off.”
The flight from Tokyo was long—more than twelve hours, but enjoyably passed as they became acquainted with several of the gymnasts. Bryce had accompanied three of them to the plane’s bathroom, where he offered a variety of physical therapy that was as unconventional as it was enjoyable for the gymnasts, and Nestor had helped several more release muscular tension they were not previously aware they suffered from.
They were only an hour away from London when the captain announced they would have to divert to Amsterdam as the repairs to the engine had failed to secure its proper operation. The sound of the engine on the right side of the plane died away, leaving an eerie quiet in the cabin as they descended.
Bryce looked over at Nestor and saw his eyes closed and lips moving silently. As if he could sense Bryce’s stare, he opened his eyes and shrugged placidly. “I ask God for help with the plane.”
“Honey, ask yourself: why would God allow a plane full of such beautiful specimens to crash? Why go through the trouble of artisanally crafting those”—he pointed out the blond twins who sat across the aisle from them, nervously looking out the window—“just to scatter their bits across the Netherlands? And trust me, I had the opportunity to become well acquainted—just an hour ago in the rear lavatory—with their nether lands, and they are some of the Big Guy’s finest work.” He smiled dr
eamily at the memory.
“Sometime God don’t need a reason. Sometime he just do things.”
“Well, if God wanted to smite us, he would have done so months ago when those upstanding Mormon boys came to our apartment to spread their gospel.”
Nestor giggled, then slapped a hand over his mouth as if he’d committed blasphemy.
“You see my point. If chewing on Mormon boys is wrong, I don’t want to be right. Anyway, I think we actually helped strengthen their faith. Just recall the number of times they called out to God during the weekend they spent with us.”
“Oh God, oh God,” Nestor said gleefully in the manner of a young Mormon missionary experiencing something overwhelming and new.
“That’s right. Now, just relax, and if you’re going to ask God for anything, you should pray that we’re delayed in Amsterdam and have to share a hotel room with some of the gymnasts we haven’t already… helped.”
Nestor smiled peacefully and sat back in his chair, eyes closed and lips moving silently.
Their arrival in Amsterdam quickly extinguished hopes of a night full of pillow fights and fellatio. The plane, having fallen victim to engine trouble twice on one trip, was to be removed from service for an indefinite period for repairs.
“We’ll have to make do overnight in the terminal,” the gymnastics coach announced, standing at the front of the cabin as the plane limped across the tarmac, his exhausted voice gravelly and grim. “We’ll see if they can get it sorted tomorrow.”
The team filed out of the plane and looked around the mostly deserted terminal for comfortable benches on which to recline.
“Well, darling, we are once again on our own, making our way across the globe with just our wits and the few condoms we have left.”
“Why we no stay with the team? They tired, and maybe saying yes where before they saying no.”