I believe it is widely known, especially in the gay world, that airports are massive cruising spots. I cannot explain it, but everyone seems to be so horny at the airports. I am a frequent traveler, and as one of my hobbies is people-watching, the time I spend waiting to board is an extremely pleasant time. 

I cannot say for sure why though. Is it because most of the people are in vacation mode? Is it the sweatpants? Is it the suits of the business travellers? Is it the urinals? Is it because of past fluffer experiences that cannot escape my mind? Maybe all of the above. 

I like to arrive at the airport on the early side. The reason? I love sitting at the gate, watch people come and go. You see everything - people crying, people laughing, people from places you have never heard of - a bunch of strangers full of fascinating stories. I try to imagine their stories, where they come from, where they go. Have they sucked dick before? Will they do it later that day? Are they circumcised? What was their first love? How is the relationship with their father? And most importantly, what kind of underwear are they wearing?

That is the million dollar question. I just believe that you can tell a lot about someone from the underwear they fashion. For example - baggy boxers with cartoons? Straight with mommy issues. Black tight briefs - would say yes to a blowjob, if you promise unanimity. And if you wear a white jockstrap on a fucking flight? You are a filthy nasty bottom that loves poppers and will ride that dick till it cannot produce cum anymore - my favourite!

So there I am, sitting at the gate, patiently waiting for the plane to arrive, watching people come and go. Nothing interesting, I had no inspiration. Mostly cartoon boxers and a couple of plain black-briefers. The boarding started, and just like that, he arrives. Tall, chubby, balkan blond, with a caramel tan. Whatever you can visualise is probably true - I am pretty sure we have the same references. He looked stressed and tired. His tight jeans were exaggerating his thick bulge and his massive bubble butt. The belly was rounded and hard, ready to bounce. 

I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I wanted to pat him in the back and tell him everything would be ok. I wanted to ask him what was wrong and how I could help him relax. In my mind, he had a fight with his girlfriend, because he went out with the boys last night, and returned late and drunk, once again. So he had to hurry to the airport this morning. It must have been a tough morning for Vlad (that’s how I named him). I was sure that his white undies were stained and musky. I wasn’t sure for his profession but I knew it was something that involved a lot of hand work. These fat fingers were meant for some serious groping. 

The plane was surprisingly empty, and luckily, all seats on my row were vacant. But not for long. Vlad entered the plane last and bounced his way to 22E, the seat on my right. How funny is that? We laughed  about the fact that two big guys still had to squeeze even though there were some many empty seats, especially in our row. So after take off, he moved to 22F. His thick thighs were still a breath away.

“Spread out, don’t stress!” I had to ensure him that I knew the struggle of a small tight seat. He smiled and thanked me. He lifted the seat divider and sat more relaxed, covering half the seat between us. I could tell that he needed that. 

A big boy myself, I always struggle in tight seats. But that day I had another issue to deal with as well. It seemed that the trousers I had on were more tight than usual. But that’s a problem I face often, and the solution is very easy - just unbutton the top button! As I did. 

After the “click” was heard, Vlad’s head turned, with a pleasantly intrigued face. “Oh my god, yes!”

He instantly proceeded to unbutton his pants as well. The sigh that came out of him was so honest and pure. I saw his belly settling in as his face was taken over by relief.

“I needed that, thanks.” 

It felt like he needed a push - someone to support his journey.

“Big boys unite” and I fist bumped him and winked. My bromance was hitting hard. Unfortunately I didn’t know any sports stuff to start a conversation so kept quiet. 

Mid flight, my bro needed to go to the toilets so I got up and made room for him to pass through. His seat retained Vlad’s butt mark, reminding me how juicy that butt was.

A mere couple of minutes later, I hear thick footsteps approaching. I feel a hand caressing my arm politely. Vlad was back. 

I get up again in order to make space for him to pass through. He enters the row and drops his phone in front of his seat. He then bends over in order to pick it up, as one would. And then I saw it. His underwear.

I would never have guessed that Vlad would be wearing a jockstrap. His tight trousers moved and made space for both the jock and the butt crack to make an appearance. The space between the two was filled with a plethora of sweaty curly hairs. A vision. 

Is Vlad a filthy nasty bottom that loves poppers and will ride that dick till it cannot produce cum anymore? Could that dick be mine? Should I order new poppers and have them with express delivery waiting for me at the airport? Too many thoughts!

He got the phone and sat down. He seemed more relaxed than before. He looked at me and smiled as he unbuttoned his pants again. This time he even put down the zip a bit. “Ohhhh yes.”

I giggled. “Better now?”

“Extremely” he added after totally unzipping the pants. The front of the jock was now visible. White. The classic jock that always delivers. I couldn’t help but look at it.

“Nice…” couldn’t keep my mouth closed. 

“Thanks” he giggled. “But didn’t think this through. Jocks are not meant for flying.”

“Been there! But now I know.” 

I lifted my tshirt and pulled down my shorts in order to show him my brief.

“Oh right. This looks like a very comfy fabric.”

“It truly is. Check it out”

I invited him to touch it. Being polite, you know.

Without hesitation Vlad’s hand left his thigh and landed directly on my love handles. His finger penetrated the underwear, caressing both my stimulated skin and the flight-appropriate brief. I am sure that was the only way to fully experience the garment. 

“Nice.”

I got hard. He moved his finger that was still tucked inside across my waist, towards the front. His finger reached my pubic area. I got even harder.

“Very nice.” He pulled back his finger. And smelled it. “Very nice indeed.”

My hard-on was visible. That visible that I had to reposition myself so the stewardess passing by wouldn’t notice. Vlad laughed. “Oh my, I am so sorry.”

“Please don’t be!” 

“Mike, nice to meet you” Vlad’s secret identity was revealed. His handshake was firm. His hand was warm, embracing, inviting. He was on his way back home, after an intense business trip. He had some very important deals to make, and after finally pulling through, he pampered himself with some “intense celebrations” the night before. 

A guy returning from the loo passed by. His cartoon boxers were visible. “What do we think about that?” Mike asked me.

I laughed. “You know, I have a theory.”

He was intrigued so he came closer to hear my theory. 

“Baggy cartoon boxers scream straight with mommy issues.”

He laughed but kept close as if he knew I was not done talking.

“Black elastic briefs would say yes to a blowjob, after ensuring anonymity.”

“What about jockstraps?”

“On a flight? Naughty bottoms that love poppers.”

Mike smiled. His reply was not vocal. He simply grabbed his bag from underneath the seat, unzipped it and pulled out a very familiar small glass bottle with a yellow label.

“How naughty am I?”

I was in awe. My theory is always right. 

“Oh my.” I was not sure what to say, or do. 

Mike raised his head in order to look around. Most seats were empty and most of the people were asleep or not paying attention. He then opened the bottle and took a big sniff, looking me in the eyes. He then passed me the bottle. How could I say no?

The bottle was oily, I bet it was used during the “intense celebrations” the night before. I scooped over and lowered my head in order to hide behind the front seat and took a bit hit. I felt the rush instantly. I was not the only one with a hard-on anymore. Mike’s pants were now fully unzipped, with an incredibly meaty jockstrap popping up. We giggled so much.

He came closer to whisper in my ear.

“I still have two loads inside me.”

He then grabbed my hand and put it inside his pants. 

I caressed his meaty bulge before reaching his wet hole. It was so sloppy my finger just slipped inside. I could feel the cum dripping. I fingered him as he was caressing his thick dick on top of the jock. All in silence.

The stewardess was approaching so we had to get back in position and behave. Of course we couldn’t help but laugh with how surreal that was. Doing poppers in a plane and fingering someone’s sloppy ass. We agreed to put the poppers away for now and just talk. 

Mike told me everything about his “intense celebrations”. After finishing work, he went to the local gay bar where he met an incredibly sexy couple. After many gin tonics, they invited him to their house. They ended up fucking till he had to leave to catch his flight. As he ensured me, they both buried their loads inside him, giving him what he truly needed. However, The loads were that massive that he had a problem keeping them in. It seems that when he went to the toilet previously, he had to let some go. He seemed sad that he had to do that, so I offered to fill him up once again when we land. Needless to say, I was hard for the whole flight, feeling the precum wetting my briefs.

After getting off the plane we ran to the most far away toilets. The airport was busy but luckily I know my way around airports. After making sure that no one saw us, we got inside the cubicle and locked the door. Mike then got the poppers out and got on his knees in order to suck my dick. I just turned him around and pushed my way inside him. I just couldn't wait any longer. 

I came fast. He was so happy that his ass was full again. He thanked me for being part of the most surreal flight experience of his life. I was grateful as well - I am writing this story after all. 

M, 42, London.