Pete tosses a few more back. He’s going to be plastered before he gets to the plane. The bartender looks at me when Pete orders again. I shake my head no. Now, I’m not abstaining by any means, easily on my 3rd or 4th. Airplane lounge sized drinks, 1 oz each. So I have a buzz. Pete is starting to look like he could fly alongside the plane. He’s still chatting with Blondie. Hello, sweetie – gay (bi) couple here. But I let him have his fun. If she came onto me, I’d totally do her. Fucking hell.
I check my phone. We have a strict rule. When you go away – go away. No need to call everyone and your uncle. I think it goes back to when making international calls was a big deal. Now it’s call, text, Instagram, Facebook everything. I prefer taking a break and immersing myself in where we are. And hopefully immersing myself into some hot German dudes like Helmut. Fucking hell. That bulge and his ass. Shit. I actually have precum on my dick. I scrounge around there to make sure my boxers absorb it. Like I need a wet spot as we board…
Helmut comes up to us and smiles. Bam. Powerhouse German dental work at its best. Holy hell. “Are you gentlemen ready to board?” and he looks at us for our approval. Pete makes some parting conversation with Blondie. Helmut notices. “Friend of yours?” and Pete’s all high school football player. “No, but I’d totally munch her out and give her a thrill or three before I fucked her hard. Did you see how hot she was?” Helmut and I are looking at him. See, the drinks kind of lowered the TMI barrier.
“Peter, Helmut does not need to hear your thoughts on the fairer sex.” I turn to Helmut and let him know we are ready. He brought a porter to take our bags. Honestly, we can manage them, but whatever. Helmut leads the way and Pete was like, ‘What?’ to me. I lean in and explain that some things should be kept private. “Why, dude, she was totally hot. Going to Paris. I was like, ‘Call me, Berlin is close to Paris’, but she wouldn’t give her me her number.” Such an odd conversation to be having as we walk to the gate.
Easy-Peasy, breeze right through. Helmut takes our boarding passes, scans them, key-cards his way through the locked security door and leads us to our seats. Hot fucking ass. Did I mention that? The porters stow our luggage in our bin and Helmut indicated to 1A and 1B. “Gentleman. May I get you a pre-departure glass of champagne?” Pete, I can tell, is lit like a house on fire. “Absolutely. We are both PARCHED!” I just smile. Going to be some trip!
Champagne is consumed. The plane literally is pulling away from the gate and moving to the runway. We’ve been in our seats less than 5 minutes. “May I take those for take-off” and Pete downs his expensive French Champagne. I do too – what the hell, then hand the glasses to Helmut. “Thank you Helmut, very kind.”
Helmut takes a seat in a drop down seat facing us, and puts some elaborate seat and shoulder harnesses on him. Fuck look at that bulge. Fucking hell. He looks to the right (away from us) and adjusts his cock, rising up a little bit. Making himself comfortable. I bet. Then he turns and looks at us. You can feel the plane picking up speed such that we are thrust back into our seats. Helmut is looking straight ahead.
Front wheels up, then liftoff as the plane forces itself into being airborne. It’s an Airbus (of course), being a German airline. I’m just staring at that massive package. Damn, boy. Reel it in. You need to back off the German dude and not fuck shit up. I put my head back and close my eyes.
As we level off, we get the annoying obligatory message from the captain, in hot masculine German. Then in English, then in French. I literally want to suck his cock. Maybe the co-captain can take over for a bit? Hell – German men.
We get asked about our eating preferences and food is served and keeps coming. As does drinks and wine and whatever we need. Pete is getting a little frisky. “Think we can fuck in that bathroom, later?” I just smile and the thought is appealing. “Quite possibly.” So that gets left. I mean, I would. He is my husband, who I well and truly like and love. I just have this conquest (or temptation?) in front of me called Helmut. The perfect Germanic specimen of a man. I know, I know, I have the perfect American specimen of a man, who just offered to fuck me in the bathroom. But he doesn’t have a German accent. But we are on vacation. A sex-cation. To Berlin. Kinda leaning towards the conquest.
I check my phone. We have a strict rule. When you go away – go away. No need to call everyone and your uncle. I think it goes back to when making international calls was a big deal. Now it’s call, text, Instagram, Facebook everything. I prefer taking a break and immersing myself in where we are. And hopefully immersing myself into some hot German dudes like Helmut. Fucking hell. That bulge and his ass. Shit. I actually have precum on my dick. I scrounge around there to make sure my boxers absorb it. Like I need a wet spot as we board…
Helmut comes up to us and smiles. Bam. Powerhouse German dental work at its best. Holy hell. “Are you gentlemen ready to board?” and he looks at us for our approval. Pete makes some parting conversation with Blondie. Helmut notices. “Friend of yours?” and Pete’s all high school football player. “No, but I’d totally munch her out and give her a thrill or three before I fucked her hard. Did you see how hot she was?” Helmut and I are looking at him. See, the drinks kind of lowered the TMI barrier.
“Peter, Helmut does not need to hear your thoughts on the fairer sex.” I turn to Helmut and let him know we are ready. He brought a porter to take our bags. Honestly, we can manage them, but whatever. Helmut leads the way and Pete was like, ‘What?’ to me. I lean in and explain that some things should be kept private. “Why, dude, she was totally hot. Going to Paris. I was like, ‘Call me, Berlin is close to Paris’, but she wouldn’t give her me her number.” Such an odd conversation to be having as we walk to the gate.
Easy-Peasy, breeze right through. Helmut takes our boarding passes, scans them, key-cards his way through the locked security door and leads us to our seats. Hot fucking ass. Did I mention that? The porters stow our luggage in our bin and Helmut indicated to 1A and 1B. “Gentleman. May I get you a pre-departure glass of champagne?” Pete, I can tell, is lit like a house on fire. “Absolutely. We are both PARCHED!” I just smile. Going to be some trip!
Champagne is consumed. The plane literally is pulling away from the gate and moving to the runway. We’ve been in our seats less than 5 minutes. “May I take those for take-off” and Pete downs his expensive French Champagne. I do too – what the hell, then hand the glasses to Helmut. “Thank you Helmut, very kind.”
Helmut takes a seat in a drop down seat facing us, and puts some elaborate seat and shoulder harnesses on him. Fuck look at that bulge. Fucking hell. He looks to the right (away from us) and adjusts his cock, rising up a little bit. Making himself comfortable. I bet. Then he turns and looks at us. You can feel the plane picking up speed such that we are thrust back into our seats. Helmut is looking straight ahead.
Front wheels up, then liftoff as the plane forces itself into being airborne. It’s an Airbus (of course), being a German airline. I’m just staring at that massive package. Damn, boy. Reel it in. You need to back off the German dude and not fuck shit up. I put my head back and close my eyes.
As we level off, we get the annoying obligatory message from the captain, in hot masculine German. Then in English, then in French. I literally want to suck his cock. Maybe the co-captain can take over for a bit? Hell – German men.
We get asked about our eating preferences and food is served and keeps coming. As does drinks and wine and whatever we need. Pete is getting a little frisky. “Think we can fuck in that bathroom, later?” I just smile and the thought is appealing. “Quite possibly.” So that gets left. I mean, I would. He is my husband, who I well and truly like and love. I just have this conquest (or temptation?) in front of me called Helmut. The perfect Germanic specimen of a man. I know, I know, I have the perfect American specimen of a man, who just offered to fuck me in the bathroom. But he doesn’t have a German accent. But we are on vacation. A sex-cation. To Berlin. Kinda leaning towards the conquest.