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  #1   Add to Londonboy's Reputation   Report Post  
Old April 4th, 2007, 07:45 PM
Thicker is Best
 
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An American Muscleman in London

I’m going to tell you a story that you will say is hard to believe. Don’t worry. I understand. I still find it hard to believe – and I lived it.

First Full Moon

I could not believe I was traveling in business class. For that matter, I could not believe I was going to London. I was going to Europe for the first time in my life. I had the passport to prove it. It just still seemed like a dream. Here I was a twenty-five year old computer programmer being transferred to London for three years. And I had only been working with this company for seven months. How lucky is that? Granted, I was good at my job and I had saved the company a lot of money – but it was still unbelievable. The best part is that I got three weeks to explore the city and beyond before I started my job. My boss had negotiated that for me. The only reason she did – I figured – was that she had a crush on me. She knew almost nothing about computers and was head of my department only because she slept with someone. Everyone knew it. That’s the way it was in our office – everyone knew everything. I was still amazed I had kept it secret for so long that I’m gay. It was getting harder, though, and that’s why this transition came at the perfect time. I promised myself that I’d be out at work in London – from day one. It must be easier there than it is in Houston, Texas. Life in general had to be easier in London.

“Excuse me,” a voice was saying behind me as I was pulling items for the long flight from my new Tumi carry-on (a gift from my parents). I turned and was blessed by the sight of a big man. Just the way I like them. He wasn’t the most handsome man I’d ever seen, but he did have the body of a huge football player. He looked like a fullback . . . or was it a halfback. Crap, why did I even use sports analogies – I knew nothing about sports. Let’s just say he looked like what Gaston from the Broadway show “Beauty and the Beast” should look like. There – that was an analogy I understood.

“Sure – sorry about that,” I said as I stepped into the space between my seat and the seat in front of me.

“No problem,” Gaston said smiling at me. He walked by me and I got a closer look at the arm that was bent over his shoulder carrying a duffel bag. The huge bicep wasn’t defined – but it was nice and big – and looked like it was full of power. I forced myself not to let my eyes follow him as he walked on – I didn’t want to be too obvious. I did glance up as I put my bag into the overhead bin. He was three rows ahead of me – and sitting in the same seat. Darn, I wouldn’t be able to look at that arm across the aisle. He didn’t seem like the type that would be sitting in business class – but, then again, neither did I. I began to sulk a little because I never got to sit beside someone like that on a plane. The seat beside me as still empty and I knew it would be filled by some talkative middle-aged woman who found that I reminded her of her son. At that moment a bag was dropped in the seat beside me. I glanced up and saw that I was wrong – it was a heavy-set middle-aged man chewing on an unlit cigar. I decided this was worse. I swear he looked like a cheesy used-car salesman and reeked of cheap after-shave. It definitely was worse. He turned to the woman behind him – obviously his recent mid-life crisis acquisition to make himself feel better. She looked like Disney had exploded on her face. There was enough make up for twenty people and I am sure nothing about her face or her body was even remotely real. The man was obviously mad about something. He was whispering to the woman with him and I heard her say something about calming down and she’d take care of everything. She slipped by him and went up the aisle.

The used car salesman blatantly watched her ass as she walked away and chuckled to himself. He then turned and saw me looking at him. A scowl came across his face. I looked down immediately. The excitement about the flight left me at that moment. I could not believe I had to sit beside this all the way to London. I quickly put on my IPOD headphones and turned up the music to drown out all noise – and hopefully all memory of the man beside me. I shut my eyes in hopes of calming down. Ahhh, the playlist I had named “A Little Pick Me Up Music” was playing. These were songs I had strategically chosen for when I might be sad or homesick. This would certainly cheer me up. The guy finally sat down beside me and I was shocked because his after-shave wasn’t that powerful. Maybe I had gotten used to it. The smell was actually quite pleasant. It was a mixture of a faint smell of sweat and that scent that usually goes along with guys who really don’t get into colognes or fragrant soaps. It was the kind of aroma that the guy three rows ahead would give off. I could only name it as a masculine smell.

I began to think about what it would be like to be close enough to Gaston to smell him. I even began to fantasize about burying my face into his chest – or better yet, his armpits. I know, I know – some people find that so gross – but I think it is really nice to get a real whiff of someone. See what they really smell like. To know everything about someone. I began to dream about how salty his sweat would taste. I started getting hard so I quickly stopped fantasizing. I didn’t want the used car salesman to see my hard-on.

The tone telling us to buckle our seatbelts went off and I opened my eyes. I turned to the left toward the aisle to grab that side of the buckle. When I turned to the right looking down to find the other half a beefy muscular hand was holding it for me. I glanced up and it was Gaston, the football player. He was smiling and saying something to me. I was too shocked to do anything. I am sure he noticed my reaction. He reached up with his other hand and pulled my headphones off.

“Were you looking for this?” he asked looking at the buckle again.

“Uh . . . yeah. . . thanks,” was all I could say. I took the buckle from his hand but my eyes stayed focused on his face. I had to finally look down to snap the buckle together. I looked back up and he was still smiling and staring at me.

“The little lady wanted to sit with her boyfriend and when I looked back to where he was sitting I told her I had no problem switching,” he said in explanation and gave me a quick wink. I did nothing but swallow hard. It was the true definition of a gulp. This made him laugh out loud.

“I think it will be a much better flight back here,” he said as he snapped his own seatbelt into place.

“I could not agree more,” boldly came from my mouth.
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Hirsuited (June 18th, 2013)
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Old April 5th, 2007, 05:57 AM
MASS Matters
 
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New Story

You're off to a good start! I've had the chance to fly internationally and your story is very realistic (and perhaps, for good reason). I look forward to the future installments.
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  #3   Add to Londonboy's Reputation   Report Post  
Old April 5th, 2007, 04:41 PM
Thicker is Best
 
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Thanks, 1bigwoof, for the encouragement. And, no, on my flights internationally OR those across the states I never get to sit beside someone like Luke. I can't complain too much. I HAVE met some great people. I hope to have the next installment of this story tomorrow. This story is going to be drawn out, though. I hope people don't get bored with it. Thanks, again for the kind words.
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amauiguy (February 18th, 2013)
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Old April 5th, 2007, 09:00 PM
The Bee Keeper
 
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Mmm, this is gonna get good.
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Old April 7th, 2007, 07:25 PM
pirate
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Last edited by pirate; August 27th, 2011 at 06:28 AM.
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Old April 8th, 2007, 04:01 AM
Thicker is Best
 
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Sorry Pirate. No pictures of the guy from this story. Maybe someone can create/submit some.
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