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He gets his cock sucked at the Airport by a guard
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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When I stepped through the metal detector at the airport, I set off the alarm. The expressionless
young woman in the guard's uniform had me empty my pockets of my car keys and a handful of
change. The alarm rang as I stepped through a second time. Then I took off my watch and my ID
bracelet. Again a ringing. Still very casual about the whole thing, she ran a hand-held metal
detector over my body; up my sides, out along my arms, and then down along my legs. When it
reached my crotch, it began making an embarrassing whooping noise.
Oh, shit! I thought, finally remembering.
She looked more alert this time and called a male guard over. He was a head taller than I am, and
he had dark, serious eyes and a full black mustache, which turned down menacingly at the
corners. From the open collar of his blue shirt were spilling tufts of wiry black hair.
"It's just down there," the woman said, pointing the metal detector at my crotch again. The
annoying whooping sound started again as she pointed.
The male guard gestured for me to follow him, and we proceeded into a small room with a
window looking out onto the runway. That would be my plane out there, where luggage was
being loaded into the cargo hold.
"I'll have to ask you to drop your trousers, sir," he said, his gruff tone clashing with his polite
words. This guy was clearly in charge, and he knew it and expected me to know it too.
Feeling more embarrassed by the second but not knowing what to say, I unzipped and lowered my
faded blue jeans. The guard aimed his metal detector at the bulge in my briefs. It whooped for a
few seconds before he waved it away.
"The undershorts will have to come down too," he said, looking grim, his dark eyes unreadable.
I wanted the floor to swallow me up. I was mortified to within an inch of my life, but I knew I
had to comply with his request, so I pulled my underpants down to my knees. My cock was soft
but fully extended. I've always been proud of its size and the way it plumped out in the middle
when something caught its interest.
I thought I saw the guard's eyebrows shoot up when he saw the metal-studded leather band
encircling my cock and balls.
"What's that?" he asked, looking at my crotch with widened eyes. His irises, I realized, were not
dark but tawny, sort of like a police dog's, in fact. They had that same fearlessness and
suggestion of authority. His face, though tanned to a shade of light walnut, showed the blue
shadow of a beard beneath the skin of his jaw.
I hesitated and then said, "It's a cock ring." My roommate had slipped it on me that morning as a
bon voyage gift, saying it would bring me luck. I had completely forgotten I was wearing it.
The guard's lips were parted slightly as he stared at it. He put the metal detector back in its
holster. It seemed his cheeks were beginning to redden; I know my cock was getting hard. I'm a
little short, and my cock jutted out a good six inches, pointing up at him.
He lifted his right hand slightly, palm up, as though he had a notion of taking hold of my cock.
But he made no move toward me. With my heart pounding, I stepped toward him. The head of
my cock touched his warm, dry fingers, which then slid along the underside of my shaft to cup my
balls. He could've had me singing soprano if he'd wanted, but his grip, though firm and a little
scary, didn't squeeze. Instead, it made me feel warm and submissive. I glanced out the window
and saw passengers boarding the plane. I was on the verge of being willing to miss my flight.
"You've got time," he murmured in a low voice. A glint of cider-colored light shone between his
half-closed lids. Still holding me, he took his left hand and unzipped his pants, pulling the pouch a blue bikini to one side. A big, thick, uncut dick flopped out of his fly, surrounded at the baeb a thatch of black hair. He reached in and pulled out his big balls, which were swirled with
black hair. I could smell his raunchy sex glands.
With both hands he held our cocks together, the top of mine against the underside of his, and
slowly pumped them. His cock, now fully rigid, was quite meaty.
Outside on the tarmac the loading continued. Inside that room I felt myself descending into the
slide toward inevitable orgasm, and I pressed my face against the mass of chest hair peeking out
from his shirt collar. He was feeling it too; I could sense the tension mounting in his big body.
He pulled a handkerchief out of his hip pocket and wrapped it around my dick head, gripping our
two cocks more tightly and pumping more erratically. We were both very close.
I quickly pulled out my own handkerchief and wrapped it in two layers around his mushroom-
shaped cock head. I was ready when I felt his cock start to jump. My load shot up through my
shaft, and I jerked against his hand as I spurted. His body shuddered, and I felt the handkerchief
going wet against my palm. His chin was against my shoulder, his cheek against my cheek. I
smelled a spicy aftershave over a sexy, masculine scent.
He straightened up and tucked the handkerchief soaked with my come into his breast pocket.
Then, without saying a word or even looking at me, he zipped himself up and strode out of the
room.
I put my own handkerchief, sloppy with his come, in my carry-on bag, pulled up my shorts and
jeans, and scurried down the hall to the gate. All the other passengers had boarded the plane by
now. At the top of the boarding stairs, I turned to look back at the terminal. I saw the guard
looking out a window toward the plane. He didn't wave; he just held his bunched-up handkerchief
to his nose.
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