Revised version copyright 2006 by the author.
None of this would have happened if my flight out of Dallas/Fort Worth hadn't been delayed. I was royally pissed but there was nothing I could do. It was my own fault, anyway, for not having called ahead or checked the status of the flight on the Net.
What can I say, my brain was fried. I'd just finished my first semester's worth of college finals and was headed home for the Christmas holidays. Life at the big state U. had been just about what I'd expected, well, except for one thing. The classes were hard enough to be interesting, but not so hard that there wasn't plenty of time to goof around. I'd made some friends, gotten roaring drunk once or twice, done some crazy things and lived to tell the tale.
The one thing I hadn't counted on was the extra education I'd gotten from Jeff Brothers, my roommate. We hit it off right away, even though we met for the first time the day we moved in. Jeff was from one of the richer suburbs in Dallas, and had gotten straight As in high school while playing varsity football. To a small-town boy like me he was the ultimate in cool. One day a couple of weeks into the term I was studying in our double room when I heard the door open.
"Hey, Jared."
I looked up from my books. It was Jeff, coming back after taking a shower. His hair was mussed and damp, the golden skin that covered his ripped pecs and abs scrubbed and glowing. We locked eyes. Then he came toward me, a grin on his face, a tent rising in the front of the terrycloth around his waist. Towel and shampoo bottle hit the floor, and then it hit me.
Something had always been missing from my social life in high school, my half-hearted attempts at making out with various girlfriends at the movies or in my car. All along I'd been interested in other guys' bodies, especially their cocks. I'd sneaked peeks in the locker room after gym class, let my eyes flicker across my buddies' crotches. But I'd never dared to look for real. And I'd never been invited to look, the way I was being invited now.
I stared at the stiff, veiny pole between his muscled thighs, capped with a flaring, plum-colored head. His balls swung gently underneath in their sack, lightly furred with hair. He moved closer until the prize was only a few inches from my face.
Jeff's voice was low and husky. "C'mon, guy. I've seen you looking at me. You know you want it."
I looked into his eyes and he nodded encouragement. That was all I needed. My pulse pounded in my ears as I grabbed his hips and stuck my tongue out, catching the drop of clear fluid that hung from the tip of his cock. He sucked his breath in as my lips parted and I took his rod in my mouth.
"Mm, yeah. Suck it."
I tumbled out of the chair and onto my knees, running my tongue into his pisshole and lapping up his salty precum, taking him all the way in until I was inhaling the soapy, faintly musky scent of freshly washed male pubes. After that there was no turning back.
For the rest of the fall semester I'd been Jeff's willing student in Sodomy 101. He was a great teacher, demanding but also considerate, affectionate and fun. He had superb equipment for the job too. His cock wasn't a monster, but it was more than big enough for me. It could get hard in seconds and stay that way for what seemed like hours while it shot loads in my face and, after some persuasion on his part, into a rubber buried in my ass.
Jeff made it clear that, as far as he was concerned, we were just buds with a little something extra. He was into sportfucking, and encouraged me to go and get more experience now that he'd "brought me out," as he put it. I was pretty satisfied with just him. When I tried to tell him that, though, he laughed.
"Jared, you're eighteen and hot," he said. "And a nice guy besides. You could have anyone you want. Trust me, you want to play the field before you settle down."
I was sure missing Jeff now, sitting in this huge, dreary airport, nothing to look forward to except Christmas vacation without him. We hadn't had much quality time lately, what with finals and all, and I was climbing the walls. Just thinking about my hot roommate was making me pop a boner. I slumped in my seat to hide it, which fortunately wasn't too difficult since I was wearing jeans loose enough to show the waistband of my CK boxer briefs. I thought about going into a men's room stall to beat off and get rid of the lump of lead in my crotch. There was plenty of time, since my flight wasn't taking off for another hour and a half.
A plane must have landed at that moment because a crowd of people began streaming past my gate. I watched them go by--there was nothing better to do. A man broke away from the crowd and paused opposite the waiting area where I sat. He took out his cell phone and punched in a number. As he waited for someone to answer he leaned against the wall in a model's stance, one hand on his hip, giving me a great view of his neatly trimmed dark hair and chiseled features.
He was only a few years older than me, but I could tell this was no college student. His Western shirt was starched and spiffy and showed off his broad shoulders, one of which had a backpack slung over it. What really caught my eye though was lower down. His long legs were encased in a pair of jeans that fit like they had been made for him. The leather belt with a silver buckle that held them up showed off his narrow waist and hips. The folds and creases in the denim formed a perfect basket between his lean thighs. Tan work boots on his feet completed the picture.
I couldn't take my eyes off him. This guy wasn't like anyone I had ever seen or known. It wasn't just that he looked awesome in his Wranglers. Mr. Goodjeans had a confidence, a swagger that said he knew what he wanted out of life and how to get it.
He kept talking, cutting his business deal or whatever. After a while, still talking on his phone, he slipped the backpack off and placed it on the floor, squatted down and pulled a laptop out. His asscheeks strained against his jeans and sent my pulse another few notches higher. It was amazing how sexy someone could be with all his clothes on. I was rock hard. I leaned forward and put my elbows on my knees, trying to hide my unwanted growth.
He plugged the laptop into a nearby wall outlet, then stood and turned back toward me, waiting for his machine to boot up. By now I had every wrinkle and fold of the material covering his crotch memorized. The furrows in the cloth shifted and changed with his every move, and disappeared as a big hand pressed the cloth down and smoothed it out.
His hand? What was it doing in the picture? My heart skipped a beat. He was playing with himself, right here in the middle of a crowded airport terminal. I stared, fascinated, as he took hold of his cock with thumb and forefinger and moved slowly down its length. Then he changed direction and stroked upward, stretching the fabric tight around the cylinder hidden underneath.
I looked up. On top of all his other assets, he had a pair of beautiful dark eyes. They were staring straight into mine.
His lips curved upward in a smile. A pair of dimples appeared in his cheeks, lightly furred with stubble.
The eye contact lasted only a few seconds but it felt like forever. Jeff had told me about how gay guys cruised each other but it had never happened to me, or at least I'd never known it until now. For sure I'd never been cruised by anyone who looked like this. I freaked. I ducked my head down, my face burning, my breathing coming in quick, shallow gasps, my heart racing a mile a minute.
Minutes ticked by before I got the courage to look up again. My heart sank. Mr. Goodjeans was off the phone and was busy stowing his computer, unplugging it, closing the case and shoving it back into his backpack. I was too late. He'd given up. In another moment he'd walk out of my life forever.
I hung my head. Why was life so fucking unfair? The great semester I'd had at college, the hot sex I'd had with Jeff, counted for less than nothing. A living wet dream had come on to me and I'd been too chicken to let him know I was on his wavelength. I felt like crying.
I sighed and shifted in my seat, feeling the wet spot in my shorts from all the precum I'd leaked. Going to the snack bar and getting a Coke would kill a few minutes and take my mind off the man who'd gotten away. I got up, my legs stiff, and started to walk out of the waiting area. I glanced toward the opposite wall without much interest, and stopped dead in my tracks.
Mr. Goodjeans was still standing there, arms crossed, looking at me. As I stared back at him with my mouth open like a total idiot, he gave a tiny nod and flicked his eyes to one side. Then he started down the main terminal corridor. Still I stood, unable to move, unable to do anything. Unbelievable.
