Gay Erotic Stories

"I just can't put up with that sod any longer" said Laurence, coming back into the galley. "If she ever calls any one of us again, I'll kill her!"

It was one of these night flights where you just wondered what was wrong with our passengers. Since we left Kennedy airport we had been bothered endlessly by a completely maniacal woman in her mid 40s that obviously thought that she owned the whole crew. The food was not warm enough, how come we do not have American Chardonnay on board (well honey, you’re on Air France, so of course we do serve French wine). Then, she moaned because we did not have the Sally Jessie Raphael show on our inflight entertainment, she also complained that the plane smelled of garlic, and she even told one of our female flight attendants that her uniform was the ugliest thing she had ever seen (designed by Chanel, I’ve got to say...). Well, she was a bitch all right, and putting each and every one of us on the verge of telling her off. Thank heaven, I am in the galley tonight, so for me, this whole trip will be...getting things ready. Dealing with passengers kept to the strict minimum. We were right over New Foundland by now, and it was my turn to go do the cabin check up. Our 747 was not full at all, and the crew, was able to take some quiet time. On a 6-hour trip, it is somewhat nice.

By the middle galley, near the exit doors 3 L&R, our purser, Michel stops me: "Bernie., I need you badly in the upper deck. Do you mind swapping your position with Guylene. She would like to work with Laurence, and Pierre is by himself in the upper deck now. May I ask you to get up there for me please? Thanks mate."

“Great,” I thought to myself. This trip is getting better by the minute. Now, here I am, stranded with 30 Espace and 127 passengers (AF Business class). I walked the whole cabin up towards the front, and got up the stairs...here I am in the upper deck. Not full, thank heaven, I hate working in business class. These passengers think that because they paid a C class fare, they own you. They want, want, want and we never get a thanks in return--like as if all this was granted.

"Here you are," said a deep tenor voice behind me. "I feel lonely up there, Guylene spent her time whining about her nails and that she wanted to work with her friend...girls my dear..."

Pierre is not what you would call a hunk--even if being in uniform, does give you an aura. He must be in his 50s. With his greyish balding head, his thick brushy moustache, his 6ft tall, stocky frame and his laughing blue eyes, he is what I would call, Mr. straight. The guy you would not pay attention to...unless you are into bears and in a horny mood, which I was.

I always have had a special crush on hairy guys. Give me a middle aged daddy, with a bit of a beer gut, some hairs showing out of his T shirt, some facial hair and balding (too much testosterone)...well, I melt like cheese on hash browns.

Me? Well, not much to say about it, really. I was 28 at that time, already with my beard trimmed, complying with our uniform regulations, my strawberry blonde complexion, being a dedicated skier, I admit I do have nice muscular legs and well, why do I have to hide it, something nice hanging between them. Don't get me wrong. I have never been a size queen, but it is true that cocks are like Weiöwùrst--the thicker they get, the juicier they taste.

"Good to see you my friend," says Pierre, patting my shoulders. "Enjoy. Not much happening here. The crowd has been fed, and I just need someone to help me doing the coffee liqueur service. Did you eat something already?"

"Not yet. It was quite manic in zone C and to make things worse, we've been dealing with a stupid bitch since we left."

"Make your life easy. Listen, why don't you put your service jacket on, and give me a bit of help okay? I just loaded the movies in the VCR’s." Here we go, Pierre’s getting the trolley ready, me, pulling all the goodies out, grabbing a lovely slice of chocolate pear tarte for myself.

"Bonsoir messieurs…desirez vous du cafe ou un digestif?" Our litany started on row 60 and ended on row 67. I noticed and took my time to serve a lovely guy, on seat 62A, nice flannel shirt, hairy arms, full beard and a 69ers baseball caps on his head...the bad news is...that bear was with something skinny, bleached-blonde hair, trying to look like Miss Piggy in the Muppet show, reading Marie Claire, one of the French woman magazines we have on board. The funny part is that when I asked her, in French "Madame, desirez vous du cafe ou un digestif? " she did not understand anything at all. A snobbish stupid tart! The bear was already enjoying a movie on his individual TV monitor.

Once the service done, all cups and rubbish cleared, after I did a seat belt check, (my favorite part of my job--checking out people’s crotches...to make sure their seat belt is on of course, sometimes, some blokes have a very interesting reaction to our check...like opening their legs wider, or taking her hands out of their crotch...I even had one time, on a L.A. flight, a guy who obviously had a hard on...or a nice cereal bar in his pocket). We reduced the cabin lights to make the whole cabin cozy and warm, and while, cruising the darkness at 32,000 ft, heading toward Europe. We finally could have a break.

"Well, now it's our break time," says Pierre, taking off his jacket. "I save you some "sautee de Veau a la provencale". Your plate is in the oven already...I don't remember if we ever flew together."

"Not that I know of. Did you join the North American division long ago?" I asked. "Not really. I was on the Far East one before, but because of my family, and my wife being lonely all the time, I asked to be transferred to this division. Much nicer trips and you're never away from home for more than 4 days."

Shit. I thought to myself, trying not to show my disappointment. The bloke is married...I could mentally see him, fucking his wife...that must be a sight...

Pierre was wearing a short sleeve shirt, and his arms were superbly furry, covered with silky long chestnuts hair...oh shit, Don't get there Bernie...get your mind out of the gutter right now, before you do something you should not and get fired! My brain was starting to scream at me...but my damned cock was acting like if it had a mind of its own. I wanted to give that bear head, to wrap my lips around his dick, and on duty or not, in flight or not...I wanted to join the high miles club and Pierre was my prey.

"Got any kids?" I asked, grabbing a bite of that superb chocolate & pear tarte. "Got 3. One is in college already, passing a License in Latin-Greek; my daughter works as a nurse and my youngest son is passing his A levels this year. He wants to join the Navy after that." "Does your wife work?"

"She used to," says Pierre, fixing himself a coke with a slice of lemon, and joining me on one of our foldable seats in the galley. "She is a teacher. A mathematics teacher...but the kids are tough, and now, she is in a recovery home, being treated for a nervous breakdown."

"What happened?"

"She got threatened by some parents because they thought that she was too tough with their kids. See, Chantal, my wife, expects a lot from her pupils. And well, some parents do not thinks it's right." He took a pause. "She got threatened by some Muslim immigrant’s kids who thought they could rule a female teacher...they even tried to mug her 2 months ago. She had to go on long sickness leave. She is in poor shape. I doubt if she will ever be able to face teaching again. So, for the moment, I am alone, my kids stay with their grandmother in Antony...and I get them when I am home."

"Where do you live?"

"In Bourg la Reine, south of Paris. Not far from Orly. It's ever so convenient. Got the RER straight to Charles de Gaulle airport, and I am 5 minutes by car from my kids. Thanks God.”

A smile appeared on my face...the guy is without it for the moment. Keep my fingers crossed and let's see where that will lead us.

"What about you?” asks Pierre, "done with college already?"

"Yes and no. I was looking for a summer job, after I passed my DEUG (BA). I wanted to become a German teacher but well, got the Job as a PNC (Personnel navigant Commercial. French for Flight Attendant), loved every single minute of it and well, never got back to college."

"Are you from Alsace?"

"No, I am German, from Bavaria. I grew up near Kõnigsee."

"Okay. That explain the blond complexion...got any girl friends?"

"No." Absolute...silence.

"Do you mean no girl friends or no boy friends?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I saw you looking at me a moment ago, and I noticed you were getting a hard on." I blushed like an idiot. "Don't get embarrassed son," he said coming closer to me. "I never realized I could be attractive to gay men. See, being married and straight does not make me open to these kinds of things. I just caught your eyes on me, while I was storing the trolley away, and I saw that your slacks were getting strangely tense..."

"I am sorry Pierre...but yes, you’re very sexy, and the best of it, you’re not aware of it."

"Bernie...don't get me wrong, but I do not have a clue about gay sex. How, can possibly two guys have sex together...do you jerk off? Sorry for sounding so crude, but I just try to figure it out."

"We don't jerk off all the time...Guys have plenty of ways of enjoying their sexuality, and jerking off is one of them, we do not act so different than a straight couple."

"Well..." says Pierre, loosing up his tie and opening his top button "My only sexual extravaganza is choosing which hand I gonna use to get me off..." Pierre was getting excited...I could see something stressing his slacks, and that lovely mat of hair perking through his open shirt...Oh man...HEEELP ! I’m gonna get fired for having sex with a crew member while on duty.

"Listen. Let’s get to our bunkers and keep on chatting. Okay? Finish storing your plate, I do a safety check...got questions for you...Bernie. Glad we can work together. Thanks to you, I will leave this plane a more intelligent man."

For those of you who did not know, on a Boeing 747-400, the crew has some crew seat rests even some bunkers mainly in the main deck by the back galley, and on the upper deck, just a small bunker behind the galley. The room is not large and normally is for 2 persons only. While Pierre checks the cabin, I grab the intercom phone and tell Michel our purser that it is all okay here and that, we take our crew rest break for 1 hour.

I go inside our crew rest…it 's quiet and warm. I hang my jacket on one of the hangers, unclip my tie and open up the two top buttons of my shirt. Pierre joins me a short moment after. "I told the Captain that we were taking our rest. It seems that the weather is clear all the way to Paris. Did you see how nice the sky is? I went to the cockpit and we could clearly see the northern stars..."

He removes his jacket and completely removes his shirt."

"You don't mind, do you?" says Pierre. "It gets terribly hot in these bunkers..."

Holly cow! His chest is a dream to look at. A soft shiny pelt of long curly hairs covers his skin from the top of his neck and go straight down to where his trousers starts, no clear spot. I could hardly see his nipples. I did not know he was that hairy...I must have stared a long time as I heard a voice, "Son, do you really find all this hair sexy?"

"I sure do " I said my voice light. "Bloody hell, you're a Bear, if I’ve ever seen one!"

Pierre smiled, "A bear? Now, what the hell is that? I’ve been called an ape, a monkey, a feather duster but never yet a bear. Is that one of your own expressions?"

"N, that's how we call hairy stocky guys...I certainly like what I see."

"You know." says Pierre "I do not have a clue about gay sex, and don't get me wrong, I do not want to sound like a sex maniac, but we've got one hour of rest...and I must say that I could sure use a blowjob... Are you game?"

I choked. "You mean, to…"

"Yes. I mean would you be okay to suck my cock?" Pierre rubs his crotch which starts to get weirdly big now. "See, my wife always refused to give me head as she complained that my hairs were getting in her nostrils. She used to make me shave my body when we first met...what a mess that was." Pierre was now getting fully excited, rubbing his crotch through his trousers, his wet moustache, his smiley eyes...his cologne...

"Yes. " did I say at least, "I'd love that very much...I’ve wanted to give you head since I arrived in the upper deck."

"I knew it!" said Pierre, coming on my couch, "I was not born yesterday you know. Well, son, let's see how good you gonna make me feel. Come here."

I came closer to him, and he kisses me. His soft moustache brushing my upper lips, while his tongue was snaking inside my mouth, rubbing it all around, his breath had a light taste of peppermint. I returned his kiss, surrendering myself in his eyes, making it sound like if there was no tomorrow, like if I wanted to fulfill a dream...a sleazy dream that would give me enough jerk off fantasy for at least a month.

"Bernie...take your shirt off. I want to feel you," says Pierre, releasing me from his crunchy hug. "You REALLY do like what you see? All these hairs don't bother you?"

"I love it!"

"Well son, let me show you how much more there is to enjoy." He stood up, and his head bent down, in order to avoid the ceiling. He started to undo his belt and open his trousers. I was doing the same, in a hurry to release my aching cock from its jail. My boner slapped happily against my belly.

Pierre looked at me, "Nice things you've got there...I’m sure that baby gives you a lot of pleasure.” He removed and folded his trousers on one of the hangers, his colored briefs sounds like it is ready to blast, like if he stuffed an eggplant in it. "I’ve to tell you that I am pretty big..."

"I can see that," I said, stretching my hand to rub it against his crotch. " It sure looks like you've got an oak log in these underwear."

"That is also another problem. The one and only time, I tried to have anal intercourse with my wife, she told me that it was too painful, and actually she bled. I’d rather be granted a smaller cock and be able to use it.”

I lowered his underwear onto his thick hairy legs...and under my eyes appeared the nicest dick I’ve ever seen, in my young queer life. A cock that was hefty, granted with two low hangings balls, silky, heavy, fully loaded of sperm, ready to blast if properly taken care of. His cockhead was looking like a mushroom head. Pierre was cut, and his cock, not especially long was definitely thick. It was hard and straight in front of my face. I could feel its warmth, see each vein. I touched it while Pierre, nicely, put his hands in my hairs and stoked my crew cut.

"Go ahead, buddy...make me feel intelligent. Let me discover the joy of man-to-man sex." He pressed my face against his crotch, I could smell his musky odour, feel his pubic hair against my skin. I open my mouth and started to lick, lightly one of his balls, they felt heavy... I let them roll in my mouth, caressing them with my tongue. Pierre is still standing in front of me, his eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

"Fucking shit...that's awesome...put my dick in your mouth, son...suck me...show me how much you want me."

I grab his hand and lay him on the couch. "Get ready." I say grabbing his cock strongly at the base. "Here comes the moment of truth." And after spitting in my right hand, I started to rub it against his cockhead, making it like if he was trying to fuck my hand. Pierre got wild in the bed. Thanks heaven the bunker is insulated, as the growl he was doing may have disturbed our business class travelers on the other side of the partition.

"Awww man...bloody bastard...suck my cock...I need it badly...can't you tell?" His cockhead was leaking precum like out of a faucet. I put my tongue on it and tasted it. It was fruity, like slightly bitter hazelnuts. I rubbed my lips against his thick cockhead, teasing him with my tongue, and suddenly, in one slow motion, I just opened wide and tried to swallow the whole thing. Boy, he was thick! I hardly got his cock head inside and my mouth was already stretched, and I realised that I still had at least 7 other inches to swallow. Length was not the problem, girth definitely was. How will I get that thing through my throat...without gagging?

Pierre was purring like a cat. His body was all relaxed, I rubbed my hand through his chest, playing with his hair, rubbing my fingers against his nipples.

"Ooooh, Son...that is just what I needed. Take care of me, and make me cum…do you enjoy it ?"

"Mmmm, " I tried to mumble, with my mouth on his cock. I was sucking it slowly, Pierre pressed forward, feeding my willing mouth the cock I had wanted to taste since I arrived here. I sucked him softly for a long period, enjoying each swallow. Then, I tried to deep throat him. I was lying between his legs, playing with his balls, slowly sucking more and more of his man cock into my mouth and slowly into my throat. Pierre was growing incoherent, mumbling about how great it felt. He was rubbing my head and shoulders, I could feel and taste the extra thick flow of precum. I pressed the head of his cock into the opening of my throat. I made a slight adjustment in the angle of the downward plunge of my mouth.

"FUCK!… DAMN!… TAKE IT ALL, SON!... NOW!" Pierre gasped.

My lips slid down his cock to the thick base and my face was pressed hard against his pubic bone. He grabbed my head and held it still. He raised himself up; his entire body was vibrating wildly. He started letting out wild, throaty little grunts that seems only to punctuate the pulsing of the restricted cockhead buried deep in my throat.

I deep throated Pierre's cock and he shot his load straight into my stomach. He released his hold on my head only when his gushing climax became a thick ooze and his cock began to soften. My throat was now killing me. He pulled his cock out of my throat when I began to struggle a bit for breath.

"Damn! You did take it all didn't you?" Pierre gasped, leaning against the wall and looking in amazement as the many thick inches of his bloated but drained cock, shiny with my saliva, slipped from my mouth, "Every fucking inch of it, too! Man."

I raised up from the couch and Pierre got a funny look on his face as he looked down at my naked groin, I looked down and saw what he did. I had cum just when he did. The thrill of taking every single inch of his massive cock to the balls had set my own climax off. I could only grin sheepishly as we both look down at the ejaculate I had left."

"Well, Can't believe it! You came without even touching yourself. That's wild!" Pierre said. I guess we’d better get it all cleaned up and put our uniforms on. We should think about getting the breakfast service pretty soon. I wonder where we are?"

Pierre finished dressing himself up, and bent over and kissed me. "Son, that was the best blowjob I've ever received .." said Pierre, adjusting his tie and fixing his in flight insignia on the right pocket of his shirt. " I’ll check out where we are. Get dressed and join me in the galley."

By the time I got dressed and I went back to the cabin, the sun was already in the sky bathing the cabin with an amazing orange-rosy glow. 1 hour and a half later, we were landing at CDG, Pierre and myself on our crew seats. The plane taxied to its gate.

"PNC aux portes. desarmez les tobogans...controlez la porte oppose." and while Michel's baritone voice was echoing in the Public Address, wishing our passengers good bye and "hope to welcome you again in a near future," Pierre slightly rubbed his hands against my leg. "Thank you Bernie...that was REALLY great."

"Do you feel okay about it? I mean, after all it was your first time...wasn't it?"

Pierre smiled, "Absolutely, and I hope it won't be my last. You do have a nice butt, son... and I just wondered what my cock would feel like inside of it."