Up In The Air
An Erotic Series
Everyone likes to think if you're attractive, you could get anyone to go home with you. Treating you godlike. But I'd like to tell everyone, especially on the internet, that a handsome guy doesn't have the world in the palm of their hand. Especially someone like me.
It's mostly due to my work. You see, I'm a pilot. Not the one you see in movies who have people flock to them. I mean more of the kind people don't think twice about. Greet you on the plane, get you from A to B, and give a warm goodbye. I get a few looks from how huge I look in a small plane but I laugh to myself to be honest.
Someone who looks kind of like a bodybuilder, but most of it is in the height. Not heavy muscular but 'thick' looking as others put it. I've had a friend joke about me being a wall that could kill someone smaller than me. All while being 6 feet and 6 inches, or 198 centimeters. I wonder if I scare men off that way. But I promise I won't eat you. Not at first at least hehe.
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In my dating history, it's... well... a long list of trial and error. For a time, I dated women but never felt enticed. Not that I hadn't cared for them, part of me couldn't confirm physically that I did. When this became a recurring problem, I opened the thought of dating men. At first, I thought things went well until I ran into the next block on the dating path.
What you do for a living.
Before getting my wings, I had a bit too much free time. I worked full time at a specialty leather shop and had a few hobbies. Though guys never got over me using my hands for a living compared to having a job that made money while I slept. Being a millionaire does sound tempting, I'm happy being able to fly and keep my hobbies. Even if flying took up 90 percent of my time.
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I mentioned being 198 centimeters tall and thickish. Sometimes I think that's what scares dates off other than what I do for work. My frame is big and I'd hate to be the lanky one so I try to cope through sleeplessness or boredom with working out. Working at the leather shop, I was thicker and felt that added to why I felt passed over. As I got heavier, I hated that life enjoyed torturing me. When I saw my doctor, he'd never seen someone so huge be so healthy. The extra weight was from gaining muscle.
The level of facepalm wasn't adequate enough when I didn't put that together. So other than me not understanding the body, I'd found a comfort level with my body, knowing I enjoyed where I worked, and being in the company of men. Although, being a secret hunky pilot didn't get easier.
To complicate dating, I was away from home for a good portion of the week. I sometimes saw girlfriends or boyfriends between flights through videochat, or before lodging for the night at a long haul layover. Being with them physically didn't happen often, but whenever it did, it was a nice dinner, personal time, and passionate fucking if we weren't too tired. And as we were cumming, that's usually how I found out who filled the gaps while I was gone.
I've been called Jason, Kaden, Paul, Isaac, John, Gordon, and the list goes on. None of those are nowhere close to the letters that spell or sound like my name. My last name is on my name tag if we meet while I'm in uniform. Captain Mikel. As for my first name, it's Caleb.
Caleb Mikel.
198 centimeters tall.
Thick yet muscled body.
95 centimeter waist.
If it seems like a weird number for a waist size, you can say it's tough to find pants. Custom alterations or fitting start at 290 Euros... Imagine a dress shirt. But all these random thoughts didn't matter once the landing gear was up and we were gliding through the air.
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Like most people, I wanted to travel but thought that making all those trips would be a fortune. So when I found that I wasn't into working at the leather shop anymore, I thought to go to flight school on a whim after seeing a flier for a new extended program. Didn't expect that I'd have the same excitement like Tom Cruise's character in Top Gun. Instructor said I took to flying kinda quick, even though other students seemed promising at the start. The first three years after graduating, I paid off most of my loans by living at low rent apartments with punched out walls and mostly ramen noodles and frozen food.
It's been four years since I became a Captain at the grand age of 38. I didn't think it'd take as long as it did. But I see in hindsight what it meant to be seasoned. I wasn't living fancy but I was definitely happy. The money was rolling in more now so I got out of my cold apartment in Canada and moved to Ireland for higher pay. From there, I saw China, Japan, Australia, Scandinavia, Italy, France and I was always happy to be back and see them.
Call it optimism when I took a picture in front of the Eiffel Tower ten times and still smiled as I ate a crepe. Or having a cup of tea with a view of Mount Fuji. Or even just listening to the waterfront at the arches of Sydney Opera House. All the while, I kept trying to have a normal life while standing out as a tall, thick pilot with a boyfriend every so often.
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I've been steady lately with a guy who doesn't mind me being long distance a lot of the time. A barber by the name of Mark Fredrickson who had a rather nice shop in New York. I'd finally been able to have a gap in my schedule with three days off to stay near him and spend some time together. Checking into my hotel, I hit the bed and sighed. It felt great to have a bed that wasn't in an airplane. And to stretch! Oh god... stretching my legs was great. I'd get to do more stretching when I saw Jack.
I know he wouldn't mind me being a bit scruffy but a shower would be a nice way to greet my sweet guy. Hopping off of bed, I started to undress and pile them on the vanity while the shower was running. Some hotels, this one included, can have the water run a little cold at first so it's best to wait. Giving myself a once over, I thought to make a plan of what hair-scaping to be taken care of in the shower.
The bit of bush around my cock had to be trimmed surely... Can't have something too unkempt. Chest hair needed some fixing too. Beard is a given. Grey is sexy but not unwashed. I do need a haircut... so why not use it as an excuse to just 'drop by' after hours? Still looking over, I flexed. Have to keep the physique and all. Running my hand along my body, it wandered down my stomach, through the curls of my bush, and to the skin of my shaft. Guess the excitement of seeing Mark was getting to me...
Sighing, I wrapped my hand around, flinching at the hot chill that ran through me.
Fuck... I was more excited than I thought...
With another deep breath, the chill lingered everywhere as my hand did as it pleased, tugging at the hard on as it ached for release. As the bathroom fogged, the heat stirred me more... hand touching across my chest, through the hairs to pinch my pointed nips.
Oh Mark... you have no idea how much I want this load in you...... fuck... fuck..... I missed you............ How good you feel...... ughhh... every drop is yours... fuuuuck.......
Imagination is a helluva thing when you're far away from the one you love. Ended up with a thick mess on the vanity and sink... Just glad I started the shower beforehand. Wiping up for the moment, I hopped in the shower to get on with trimming, washing, and feeling somewhat human before seeing Jack. Being in your 40's is a grey area in the middle that most men navigate the same yet different when they reach it.