Affair of a Foreign Nature
Chapter 3
What a Trip
By and © Hans Schrieber
We had a stopover in Chicago before flying on to Frankfurt. I had to change airlines in Frankfurt from Continental to Lufthansa for the short flight to Innsbruck. We asked permission from Eric to get off the plane and use the normal bathrooms, which we did.
It's an unwritten rule, at least in our high school, and I thought pretty much everywhere, that if you go in a boy's bathroom and there is more than one open urinal, you never go stand right next to another guy. You always leave at least one vacant one between you whenever possible. So, I selected the end unit, next to the wall, a good 5 urinals away from the Asian guy doing a no-hander. I never stand next to a no-hander even if there isn't any other ones open. I'd rather just wait.
So I was pretty startled when John followed behind me and parked himself right next to me. He just acted like no big deal in opening up his shorts all the way and pulling his dick and balls out the top of his boxers. His shorts were baggy and he had to widen his stance to keep them from falling to the floor. I never understood why some guys do that. The reason they put a fly in your pants and boxers is for the convenience of just pulling the important piece out, doing your business and quickly stuffing it back in. I had to pull the top of my warm-ups down since they have no fly, but I just pulled my dick out the fly of my boxers and left them in place. It made me sort of wonder, if the video on the plane was really an accident or if his reaction to it was just an act.
I did take another glance at his package since it was on display. It's a little smaller than mine and Ricky's, but not much. Nice patch of pubes for a barely thirteen year old, though. He was glancing in my direction, pretty much straining for a peek.
I decided, "What the heck, let the kid get his curiosity filled." I know I'm always curious about stuff and especially curious about checking out other guys' dicks, so why wouldn't he be. I looked past him, and verified that no one else was watching us and after my stream ended and was just dripping, I quickly hooked my thumb in my boxer's waistband and slipped it down along with my warm-ups. This exposed my pubes, entire dick and dangling balls. I tucked both waistbands under my balls, pushing them up a bit uncomfortably, and dropped my right hand in order to give him a full view of my set.
He'd stopped flowing but made no move to put things away. He was just holding his dick and looking at mine. He looked up at me, suddenly realizing how obvious he was being, I guess. I smiled and when I did, his face relaxed into a smile as well. I got one of my crazy ideas. Sometimes they worked out and sometimes they turned out to be a disaster. But, I seldom took time to think about which way they were likely to go before I did them. Such was the case now as I started slowly stroking my dick into a boner. I kept glancing over at him to see if he was freaking or not, but he seemed all fascinated by it, so I kept going. I needed it pretty bad anyway, I was pretty horned up.
He didn't copy my actions, but he got the same result. He was boned up a good three inches and he turned slightly toward me and away from the open area. A few more guys came and went while we stood there in the corner. We would look forward when someone would get a bit close but look back at each other when they left. The whole public exposure of it was wildly exciting to me and I was on the verge of climaxing in no time. Checking that I wasn't being observed by anyone but John, I surrendered control and slipped straight on into the balls on fire rush of my orgasm. I gasped in short, whispering breaths and my butt twitched. I felt that burning, flushed feeling as the first shot of cum hit the urinal. I wasn't used to using my left hand to do it with and it gave me some different sensations. That was actually kinda cool. I wanted to give as good a view as possible for John, so that's why I used my left hand.
After three good squirts, I stepped up closer and milked the ooze out into the ceramic urinal. John then tucked himself away and went to wash his hands while I finished draining my balls. I pulled things back into place and washed up too. I met him outside in the concourse and was curious if he would say anything. He didn't. He didn't quite know what to say, I'm pretty sure. I really didn't know quite what to say either and that's unusual for me. It was awkward like last night with Ricky.
"Let's get some good snacks for the long trip over the ocean," I suggested as an ice breaker from the uncomfortable silence.
"Yeah, good idea," he agreed. We loaded up on chips and candy since we could get plenty of soda from our steward, Eric. John seemed to have plenty of spending money, so I didn't have to offer to buy for him. We flashed our tickets and got back on the plane. We settled back into our seats. I snagged my own blanket and a little pillow for the next flight. John already had one and I was a bit jealous of it on the last flight. I wondered if we would have someone sitting by us from here on. Turns out, we had the section all to ourselves again and that was great. The ugly, hairy dude was still on the plane and I avoided any kind of eye contact with him. He gave me the creeps.
Before the new people started loading, John got my attention. We had fallen silent, each absorbed in separate magazines. Mine was on snowboarding and his was some sort of military history thing. "Can I ask you something?"
I expected it to be about what just happened in the bathroom. "Sure, what?"
"How come you got rubbers in your backpack?" he asked, blushing a bit.
"You saw those?"
"Yeah, the guard guy held them up in the airport."
"Oh, yeah. Shit. That was embarrassing."
"So why did you bring them?" John asked again.
"Well, just in case. You know. In case I get lucky or something with some hot Euro-chick."
"Oh. I see," he said with a flat almost discouraged tone.
"Why?"
"Why, what?" he responded.
"Why'd you ask?"
"Just curious," he said.
"Yeah, I can tell you're a pretty curious guy. Hope you got all your curiosity satisfied." I smiled and he smiled knowingly back. That seemed to be just the right amount of something said. I know I felt better and the unseen tension between us since the bathroom seemed to slip away once I said something out loud. He got the message that I'd done it for him, and more importantly, that I knew he was just being a curious kid, so no big deal. Well, I guess to be really honest, I started doing it for him; I really finished doing it for myself. It felt so good to shoot my wad and it was way exciting doing it in the public place like that.
I could tell he wanted to grab my arm again when we took off, but was afraid that he was looking too much like a wimp. Sensing his dilemma, I reached over and took his hand. He immediately squeezed it and closed his eyes. When he felt safe again, he released my hand and pulled away. "Thanks," he said.
"No problem," I said. I reached down and pulled out my Hardy Boys mystery, "The Secret of Hidden Lake." John looked over and grinned.
"Oh, that's a good one."
"You read these?" I was surprised. "I thought my dad and I were the only ones left on earth who read these."
"My mom got me started on them. Now, it's a tradition that I get one for every birthday and at Christmas," John said.
"Cool," I said. We spent a good hour sharing our favorite Hardy Boy adventures. "Who do you like better, Joe or Frank Hardy? I like Joe better, because I'm more like him, always jumping into things and figuring them out later. Frank thinks through things too much."
"No," John disagreed, "Frank's the smart one who figures everything out."
Finally, we faded off when we got our dinner. After dinner, came a movie. They kept all the lights dimmed when the movie ended, so people could sleep.
"Wow! LOOK!" John said turning from the window. I looked through the window he was pointing through. I leaned over him to get a closer look and put my hand on his bare thigh as I did.
"That's totally balls!" I declared. "I've never seen anything like that." The image was a truly spiritual experience. The plane was flying just over an endless layer of clouds that were lit up in every shade of blaze orange, purple, gold, red and yellow from the setting sun. It spread across the entire visible expanse of the sky. We leaned in close to the window, cheek to cheek, to view the inspiring sight. We lingered there quite a while, mesmerized by the spectacular image.
Finally, I pulled away and put my tray up and stuffed my pack.
John looked at me and said with great emotion, "I'll never forget seeing that. Ever."
"That's how heaven must look, I think."
"I know. I think so too. It was so beautiful and it was really balls sharing it with a new friend like that." I said.
John beamed and smiled wider than I'd ever seen him do at the mention of the word friend. I guessed he didn't have that many.
Then I moved my seat back and settled in to take a rest. I pulled my blanket over me and fussed with the miniature, doll pillow they give you. I couldn't really get comfortable.
John was having the same problem. His head would start drooping and fall off the bulkhead into the window well, waking him up. I had nothing to lean against at all.
"I got an idea," I said. "How about, I put my pack against the wall. I'll lie down in your seat and lean against the pack for a pillow. You can move to the aisle seat and lay your head on my body."
It took a bit to get arranged, but soon we found a reasonably comfortable solution. He laid his head on his small pillow up against my ribs and his left hand under my butt and legs. His right arm draped over my thigh. My left arm was under me and my right arm was draped over his shoulder. We drifted off. I awoke to a weird sensation. It took a bit before it registered that I had a boner and John was tracing his fingers along it and over my scrunched up ball sac. As soon as I stirred, he jerked his hand away and held his breath. I decided to just ignore it. It made it pretty obvi, though, what I had sort of figured out already about him.
We slept a long time. They fed us breakfast and we started getting ready to land. We had a chance to talk a little more and I asked what branch of the army his dad was in. John told me he was in MI.
"No way!" I said, "That's so balls. I'd love to do that. I'm in ROTC right now and I'm going into the army for a while because I want to join the CIA or do something in Homeland Security. I totally wanna do spy stuff when I grow up. They tried to get ROTC thrown out of our school, but our principal's a Vietnam vet and I helped him get a petition going and we went to the school board meeting with our parents and everything to keep it. I was even the spokesman in the meeting. I'm really not afraid of talking in front of adults."
"Hey," John said, "You should meet my dad when we get off the plane. He's meeting me right where we get out of customs. He'd think your story about ROTC is cool."
"Yeah, that would be awesome," I said. "Has he told you about any of his missions ever?"
"Nah, he can't really talk about it," John said, sadly. I was disappointed to hear that. Still, it would be balls to meet a real live military intelligence officer.
As we started our final approach into Frankfurt, I reached under the blanket and took John's hand again. He squeezed it less this time, but he still smiled appreciatively at me. When we landed and were finally in our gate, it was exciting to hear them make the announcements in both English and German. Everything was so different. All the signs and people talking in foreign languages were fascinating to us. We gathered our stuff and lined up in the aisle. Eric, our steward, gave us lots of instructions about going through customs and helped us fill out our forms. I had to get my luggage at baggage claim and take it through customs here, even though I was going on to Austria. Then, I had to go find the Lufthansa counter and check my bag back in for the flight to Innsbruck. I had a little bit of a layover, so I had plenty of time to meet John's dad.
It was all kind of confusing, but we followed the other people from our plane and waited for the luggage to start coming out. When the luggage carousel started up, I got a crazy idea. I jumped on it and sat on a suitcase that had been left over from the last flight and rode it around waving at everybody. Of course, a security guard and a couple of old ladies started yelling at me in German. I jumped off and the guard walked away grumbling. I kept seeing the tattooed freak staring at us. It gave both John and I the total creeps. Finally, the luggage appeared and we each grabbed the one bag we brought. Mine was kind of big because mom made me pack more than I really needed for a week.
We stuck together to get through the customs thing. It was way confusing and we got in the wrong line at first. People weren't very helpful, even the workers. They just acted annoyed by us. I hate when adults treat me like that. Finally we got to the window and the man at the booth looked angry. I was reminded of the bad experience I had at LAX. I worried if they searched my bag and found the spy camera, I might end up in some prison with stone walls and moldy bread to eat. The man asked me like four times why I was coming to Germany and where I was headed and who I was meeting. Finally, I got through and it was John's turn. He just whizzed right through. I don't get it. Maybe I look suspicious.
When we cleared the customs area, John started looking for his dad, but I didn't think he could come in this far and suggested we had to go out further by where you get busses and taxis and like that. We both walked down the corridor and out the security doors. This was definitely the main terminal area where anyone could be and so we started searching. Now we really did feel like we were in a foreign country. All the people and the shops were crazy. He showed me a picture of his dad, so I could help look for him. I had a while before I had to get on my Lufthansa plane.
After half an hour of walking up and down, we stopped in a McDonalds, bought a cheeseburger and fries and sat on a bench. There was actually beer on the drink list at Mickey D's and that cracked us up. I tried ordering it, but the guy at the counter just shook his head.
"Where could he be?" John asked, on the verge of tears.
"Don't worry," I consoled, "He'll show up. Maybe he just got stuck in traffic or something."
"Maybe. But he's never late. He hates it. We're always early to everything, cuz he plans for stuff like traffic. I can't believe he's not here. What if he doesn't come for me?" Panic was welling up in his voice.
"C'mon, you're talking crazy now. Why wouldn't he come?" I said.
"I don't know. I'm just scared kinda. What if he got sick or hurt or something else bad?"
"You got a phone?" I asked.
"Yeah." He brightened. I could see it was like "Why didn't I think of that." He pulled an older, flip phone from his pocket and a little notebook from his carry-on. "I have to dial 001 then my number." He sat there anxious to talk to his mom and find out what was going on. Soon, the sad scowl replaced his hopeful look.
"It says I have no service," he said. His voice was shaking.
"Let me try." I carefully dialed the number and got the same message. "I think you needed to set this up for Europe. Like some phones, you have to swap the SIM card. We checked with AT&T and they said they use the same system as Europe, so mine should work. Let me try. Oh, except I can only call my home and the hotel I'm going to stay at. Mom didn't want me running up a big bill calling my friends from over here or getting texts from them, so she had them restrict it. I can only email my friends on my laptop. Maybe, my mom can call your mom. But then I've got to go check in at Lufthansa or I'm gonna miss my flight."
"You're not gonna leave me here alone, are you?" John pleaded. He was struggling not to cry.
"No, dude. I'll miss my flight if I have to. I won't leave you," I promised. But, I was getting worried now that we might both end up stranded in the airport.
I dialed and it rang. I was relieved to hear my mom's voice. "Mom. It's me David."
"David? Why are you calling so soon? Is something wrong?" Moms can sense stuff like that. I explained about John and his dad not showing up. I gave her the number for John's mom and she said she would call and see if she could figure it out.
"What should I do about my flight? I have to go to Lufthansa but I can't leave John since I've got the phone and his phone won't work over here," I asked.
"If his dad hasn't met you by now, I guess he should go with you to Lufthansa. If there is a help desk around, give them John's name and let them know he is looking for his father and that you are going to Lufthansa's check-in counters," mom suggested. Moms always know what to do.
I hung up and told John to follow me. "Dude, look over there in that bar."
"It's him."
"Do you think he's watching us?"
"Nah, it's just a coincidence. You've read too many Hardy Boys books." John laughed. The joke helped ease our tension.
We reported John's situation and they made a note on their computer system. Then we got directions to Lufthansa. Fortunately, it was in the same terminal, but we had to go from section A to section B. We trotted as fast as we could, using the moving sidewalks and dragging our bags behind us. We had to wait about twenty minutes in the Lufthansa counter line. Just before we got to the counter, I heard my name over the loud speaker. At first I didn't catch on that it was me, but the second time, John and I both looked at each other. The voice blared out for Lufthansa passenger David Williams to proceed to a Lufthansa ticket counter.
"Hey, that's me I said waving from the line to the ticket agent lady directly in front of me. They just called me on the loud speaker. I'm David Williams." She motioned for me to get out of line. John followed. I gave her my paperwork and she typed it into the computer.
"Yes," she said, "Is this John Randall?" She pointed at John. He looked stunned that she would know his name. He nodded his head, indicating that he was, in fact, John Randall. "There is a ticket to Innsbruck for you as well. It has been arranged for you to travel with your friend. The message says to tell you that your father will meet you at your final destination. It says that you should not call or tell anyone else that you are traveling there."
She took our bags and gave us a blue pass to use to go through a special security line. The look of total relief on John's face actually moved me. I felt little tears of joy for him building up in my eyes and I turned away to wipe them quickly on my t-shirt sleeve.
"Wait," I said. "I need to put something in my checked bag." I pulled the spy camera out of my backpack and stuffed it in my checked bag. I didn't need to go through that again here. Besides, things were getting a little dicey and I didn't need any more complications. Actually, I was sort of loving the whole deal, except for how worried John was. It was all kind of balls, what with his dad being an MI agent and all. My imagination was going wild.
"This is kind of wild," I said. "It's like a spy novel. I bet your dad is on some kind of mission and he couldn't come because of it. So when we get to Innsbruck, he'll be there and take us with on his secret mission to crack some code or break up some covert enemy plot."
"Yeah." John didn't share my enthusiasm over the idea.
"Actually, I'm sure your mom and my mom worked it all out and whatever hung your dad up will be all resolved by today or tomorrow latest," I suggested to make him feel better.
As we neared the security entrance, we were stopped short by another creepy, tattooed guy. He stepped right in front of John and seemed to come out of nowhere. In a heavy, unrecognizable accent that we both had to concentrate really hard on to understand him, he said, "John, there you are. I have been looking for you. I was sent by your father to pick you up. Say goodbye to your little friend and come with me now." He reached to take John's arm, but john pulled away. The hair on my neck was standing up. It wasn't right. It didn't feel right.
"I don't believe you," John said boldly. "Let me see your ID."
"Just come with me. Your father is Arthur Randall from US Army and he will not be happy if I don't bring you to him. Come now or we will both be in big trouble." John wavered a bit, uncertain.
"But I checked my bag. I have to go get it back," John said. I caught on and agreed with him.
"You did what? Where are you going to? You are to stop here. You are meeting your father here." The man said with confusion in his voice.
"What's with that tattoo on your wrist? I've seen it before," I asked.
"Shut up, boy. This is of no concern with you," he snarled at me. He grabbed John's arm and I decided it was time to follow my mother's anti-abduction advice and started screaming to make a scene.
"HELP! This man is hurting us. HELP! HELP!" His large hand collided with my face and sent me sprawling. He started to drag John off, but a police whistle sounded and cops appeared from every corner. The creep tossed John to the floor and ran. He was tackled and quickly dragged off in handcuffs. Another officer gathered John and I up and escorted us through security and directly onto our plane. Once we were seated, my heart rate started to slow a bit. John burst into tears. I pulled him against me and held him while he cried.
"What's happening?" He cried. "What's going on? I'm scared."
"Hey, we'll figure it out when we meet up with Mr. Baumgartner in Austria. He'll know people we can call to sort it all out. Maybe, your dad will be in Innsbruck when we get there like the ticket agent lady said," I comforted.
I pulled the blanket over our laps and gently rubbed and tickled his bare thigh with my right hand, while I held him around the waist with my left. It always used to make me feel better as a little kid, when my mom or dad would tickle my leg or back to comfort me.
He stopped crying as hard and just sort of sniffled and trembled. A large Austrian woman sat next to us and paid us no attention, so I kept to John's side of the seat for the entire 1½ hour flight. We didn't really talk much. We just leaned against each other, stared out the window, sipped our cokes and ate the weird cheese snacks they gave us in silence. It was a very comfortable silence, though.
He seemed to like it and didn't mind that I let my hand creep further and further up his baggy pant leg. Like I said, sometimes I just do things and don't think about them first. I inched my fingers all the way up and brushed against his soft, crinkly balls and felt the downy fibers of his pubes. Other than to look down and tug the blanket slightly higher, he gave no other reaction. Emboldened, I maneuvered my hand onto his dick. I glanced over and made sure the enormous Austrian woman was still sleeping. She was and she also provided a perfect blockade from others.
I gripped and squeezed his stiffening dick in my fingers and rubbed my hand over it. Then I ran my fingers through his soft, silky pubes and tickled the right side of his ball sac. John closed his eyes and smiled in blissful satisfaction. I cupped my hand over it and rubbed slowly, rhythmically over the sensitive underside of the tip. His breathing got deeper and slower. He pressed his lips together, blowing out steady streams of breath. He peeked down, looked over at me, peered at the slumbering Austrian woman, smiled and closed his eyes again.
Suddenly, he sucked in a gasp of air, pulled backward into the seat and started to quiver. A pool of hot goo spread across my fingers and palm. What was I thinking? "Oh shit," I whispered. "I didn't plan on that."
He quivered again, adding more goo, and as he caught his breath, he started giggling. That started me giggling. There we sat, John with both hands over his mouth trying not to giggle but giggling uncontrollably, nonetheless, and me giggling like an eight year old too. All the while, I was trying to contain the pool of goo under my hand so it wouldn't soak his shorts. I pulled my left arm free from around him and grabbed the napkins that came with our cheese snacks. "Here," I suggested, "Put these in your boxers and I'll use them to wipe up."
He slipped his hands under the blanket, unsnapped and zipped down his shorts. Then he stuffed the napkins in his boxers and I wiped up as best I could. We kept slipping back into fits of giggles as we did it. When I had cleaned it as good as possible, I pulled the messy napkins out and wondered, "What now, Sherlock?" Like a stroke of brilliance that Frank Hardy would have come up with, I grabbed an air sickness bag and stuffed the cum-soaked napkins in it. Luckily, John didn't cum all that much or I don't know what I would have done. I wiped my hand and fingers on my socks and John put himself back together.
"Wow," I thought as I took hold of John's hand for the landing, "that was a first. What a trip!"
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
