Landed at the regional airport, suitcase dragging behind. Taxi dropped me at my friends’ countryside home for a quick stopover. Proper family, relaxing break before next flight. Their son, 18, shy kid on vacation. Bored eyes lit up seeing me—mid-age between parents and him. We chatted. Sensitive, smart, unsure. I loosened him up: tennis, laughs. Buddies fast.
Day five, parents napping. “Bike ride?” His face beamed. We pedaled through wheat fields, sun scorching. Hour in, stopped under oak tree. Dropped bikes. Grass soft. Lay back, eyes shut. Breeze tickled skin. Peeked: his shirt hiked, flat smooth belly. Stared too long. Beautiful, young skin. Looked away. Back again. He dozed, belly rising.
The Stopover
Then change. Pants tenting. Bulge growing. Slept still. Frozen, watched cock swell under fabric. Heart pounded. Mouth dry. Own dick hardened, wood-stiff. Leaned close. Hand hovered. Touched the mound. He jolted awake, eyes wide panic. Bolted up? No. Pinned chest gentle. He squirmed—hesitant, not no. Gripped cock through pants. Massaged slow. Eyes locked. He glanced at my bulge. Yielded. Lay back, eyes shut.
Unzipped. Cock sprang free—long, thin, perfect. Stroked base to tip. Skin slid, shiny head popped. Pumped steady. He moaned. Lost it. Lips on head. He gasped. Sucked whole shaft. Tasted clean, musky balls. Deep throated slow. Tongue swirled. He bucked, flooded mouth. Hot spurts. Gulped every drop, sucked harder. He writhed, emptied. Pulled off. He flushed, messy hair. Silent. Bikes home. Awkward dinner. Avoided eyes. Bed early, sun excuse.
The Transit
Room dim, suitcase open by bed. Memories replayed. Stripped, stroked slow to his cock taste. Near sleep, 1am scratch at door. Feet shadow under. Pyjama pants on. Opened. Him, timid. Entered quiet. Shut door—click like hotel latch. Sat bed edge. Boners obvious. Hand on thigh. His on my bulge. Electric. Kneeled between legs. Stroked soft. Eyes hungry. Took head in lips. Warm, tentative. Pushed deeper. Slow bob. Tongue magic. Hands in hair. Couldn’t hold. Exploded in mouth. He swallowed all, loving. Curled shoulder. Wordless bliss.
Night endless. Fucked him missionary—tight ass gripped. Made him shoot. Rode reverse—he clenched, bit lip hiding pain. “Love it,” he whispered. Took again. Came together: me deep in ass, him in my fist. Festival every night till departure.
Checked out days later. Key in guest door, suitcase zipped. Plane waited. He ghosted one day—no more, no why. Transit memory burns: fields, cum, forbidden rush. Back on road, anonymous again.