It's become frequent occurrence since the full body scanners, which can detect the outline of flesh under clothes, were introduced. It is more likely when I've been flying home from a playtime long weekend or whatever, where I've had a lot of sex, used Cialis, etc., so I'm still hanging heavy. It is always "In your groinal area, sir," as they point to the screen with my silhouette and a red box on my upper left leg where I hang.
The most memorable was coming home through Chicago Midway. They wanted to take me to a private room, but I had so much crap on the X-ray belt, and easily forget things, that I insisted on just doing it there. So he explains he has to touch me THERE, and will do it with the back of his hand. After about a minute, during which he loops perplexed, he gets down on his knees in front or me, and continues backhanding the bulge, then sort of poking it and gently batting it around, for quite a while. Finally, he stands up and says "What is that sir? Is that a hernia?" "You mean this," I said, pointing to a little bulge at my belly button. "No sir, down THERE." "Oh, that," I reply "No, I'm just rather large." The poor guy looked utterly devastated and emasculated, but let me go. Meanwhile, his female coworker is giving him the "Ah Ha" look.
The other time I remember as absurd, the TSA agent is this huge guy who abruptly developed a very abrasive attitude. As I'm walking up, he reminds me to empty my pockets, which I already have done. I go though the scanner, and it's obvious it has triggered on my left leg again, and he starts to pat me down there. "Empty your left pocket!" he growls. I reach in and there's nothing there. So he starts poking my bulge again. "What is that? I told you to empty your pocket!" So I reach in again, and find nothing except lint. "Turn your pocket inside out!" he commands. A single dime, which was wedged in the seam of the heavy denim of the jeans, and I couldn't feel when I reached in, pops out. Suddenly he's satisfied, and lets me through. I'm still not sure if he realized he was poking my cock all along, and was actually looking for something else tiny and metallic (but in my experience, a single dime does not cause an alarm), or it was when he saw the dime that he realized he had been poking my cock, and just wanted to get rid of me quick.
The most memorable was coming home through Chicago Midway. They wanted to take me to a private room, but I had so much crap on the X-ray belt, and easily forget things, that I insisted on just doing it there. So he explains he has to touch me THERE, and will do it with the back of his hand. After about a minute, during which he loops perplexed, he gets down on his knees in front or me, and continues backhanding the bulge, then sort of poking it and gently batting it around, for quite a while. Finally, he stands up and says "What is that sir? Is that a hernia?" "You mean this," I said, pointing to a little bulge at my belly button. "No sir, down THERE." "Oh, that," I reply "No, I'm just rather large." The poor guy looked utterly devastated and emasculated, but let me go. Meanwhile, his female coworker is giving him the "Ah Ha" look.
The other time I remember as absurd, the TSA agent is this huge guy who abruptly developed a very abrasive attitude. As I'm walking up, he reminds me to empty my pockets, which I already have done. I go though the scanner, and it's obvious it has triggered on my left leg again, and he starts to pat me down there. "Empty your left pocket!" he growls. I reach in and there's nothing there. So he starts poking my bulge again. "What is that? I told you to empty your pocket!" So I reach in again, and find nothing except lint. "Turn your pocket inside out!" he commands. A single dime, which was wedged in the seam of the heavy denim of the jeans, and I couldn't feel when I reached in, pops out. Suddenly he's satisfied, and lets me through. I'm still not sure if he realized he was poking my cock all along, and was actually looking for something else tiny and metallic (but in my experience, a single dime does not cause an alarm), or it was when he saw the dime that he realized he had been poking my cock, and just wanted to get rid of me quick.
