20. Griffin
20
GRIFFIN
I ’ve worked on tons of private planes. The wow factor wears off quickly once you realize it’s the same seats you find on a commercial plane. Sometimes, like in Penelope Towne’s plane, there’s even a couch. But the couch isn’t that comfortable. It’s only cool because it’s on a plane. The only real perks are not dealing with annoying passengers and having your own bathroom.
Jack’s mouth is practically on the plush pink carpet.
“Ho-ly shit.” He stumbles around as he takes it all in. The plane is as pink on the inside as the outside, down to the walls. Pink leopard print pillows are splayed across the couch.
Jack opens a fridge up front and snaps a picture.
“Don’t post any of this.” I don’t want to lose my job.
“I’m not. This is for my own private memories.” He picks up a can of La Croix. “Hey, we both like peach-pear!”
I motion for him to put it back. “Since you’re a fan, I thought you’d want to take a look.”
Jack sinks into one of the seats. He lets out a big aahhhh, even though it’s likely not much more comfortable than a regular airplane seat.
“This is amazing.” He pulls an eye mask from the pocket on the side. In big letters, AT is spelled out. “This is Alberta Towne’s face mask! She’s Penelope’s overbearing momager.”
“Weren’t you on private planes when you were in the NHL?” I ask. It’s very cute how impressed he is by all of this; I expected him to be a bit more jaded. From what I’ve read, NHL charter planes are very swanky.
“We all got first-class style seats. But there weren’t couches like this.” Jack collapses across the sofa as if lounging by the TV, his strong body taking up all the space. “We had to wear a suit jacket and dress pants whenever we flew. It’s in our contract. And that shit isn’t comfortable to fly in.”
Jack adjusts the suit he’s wearing, the same one as last time, still a size too small for him. The few times I’ve worn suits, I’ve ripped them off as soon as I could.
“Don’t get me wrong. It is nice. Really nice,” he continues. “But pretty soon…”
“The magic wears off?” I ask.
“Yeah. You’re still stuck on a plane for a few hours.”
I sit in the momager’s seat. It’s best that I don’t sit on a couch with him. I don’t trust myself to play nice. Not when I’ve been daydreaming about tearing his suit off since the second he strolled into the hangar.
I check my watch. “When’s your interview?”
He checks his phone. “Like ten minutes.”
“It’ll take you two minutes or so to get to Alan’s office.”
“Perfect. Setting timer for eight minutes.” Jack pushes the requisite buttons on his phone.
Great. I can withstand temptation for eight more minutes. Barely. Jack’s ass looks fucking delicious in those pants. I can do it.
I don’t know why I haven’t gotten Jack out of my system yet. I can’t dwell on that currently.
“Can I see the cockpit?” Just hearing the word cock escape his lips makes my pants tighten. The horny part of me wonders if he emphasized that syllable extra hard.
Less than eight minutes. Less than eight minutes.
“No.”
“Are you afraid I’m going to accidentally turn on the plane?”
You’re turning me on, and I doubt that’s an accident.
Jack leans over the couch to strum the guitar on the floor. “You know Penelope is dating a hockey player? He plays for the Boston Smugglers. You ever wonder if they’ve had sex on this couch?”
Is there a button overhead I can press so that my heart stops racing at that question? Or one to eject me from the plane?
“Maybe Penelope’s been on her knees right here, giving him a grade-A hummer.”
“It’s not something that’s crossed my mind.” Although, at the moment, it’s all I can think about. Shoving Jack’s head into my lap, his lips stretching around my cock again.
Less than seven minutes. Less than seven minutes.
“Maybe some flight attendant comes in, gets on his knees, and they take turns sucking him off.” Jack leans back on the couch, opening his legs and imagining the scenario. He turns to me, flashing a dark smile that lets me know exactly what he’s doing. “That’d be kinda hot, right?”
He adjusts himself over his pants, his thickening cock surfacing through the fabric.
“You know that she doesn’t travel alone. She has a whole staff.”
“They can watch.” Jack rubs his length, then gives it a tug. At first, I hoped Jack talked a big game to make up for shortcomings, but I’ve seen with my own eye that his confidence is pure big dick energy.
My pulse quickens, throbbing wildly in my neck. I will my dick to stop stiffening, but it won’t listen. It is fully under the control of Jack.
“Or maybe her bodyguards secretly have sex on this couch. Big guys sucking each other off.” Jack’s eyes hold me in place. He glances down at my crotch, where my erection pokes against my jumpsuit. An aura of victory envelops him.
Less than six minutes. Less than six minutes.
“What are you doing? Shouldn’t you be prepping for your interview?”
“Probably.” Jack strokes himself over his pants.
“You shouldn’t be doing that,” I tell him.
“Doing what?”
“Touching yourself.” My tongue is thick and heavy in my mouth, each word more unsteady than the last.
“You’re right. I should be touching you instead.” Jack reaches out and palms my dick, unleashing a Hoover Dam amount of lust through every synapse of my brain.
“Jack,” I hiss, but I don’t push him away. I get more lightheaded with each stroke of my cock. “This was supposed to be a one-time thing.”
“I know.” Jack looks up at me with those crystal blue eyes. “But I decided I want more.”
He leads me forward by my cock, and I sink to my knees. His erection sticks up in a conspicuous tent. I’ve never given head before. What if I fuck it up?
“Griffin, we only have five minutes. Get to work.” Jack undoes his belt and pulls his cock from his boxers. It’s thick and sticking straight up, fuzzy golden hairs around the base.
The first time I put on ice skates, I didn’t wobble or fall like other kids in my class. My coach noted how quickly I found my balance. I feel that same innate balance as I take Jack in my mouth, the clean taste of his cock mixed with the bitter hit of precome at the tip.
Out the window, the entire hangar is visible. The plane is high enough that nobody should be able to look in…I think.
Jack throws his head back and arches so his cock fills my mouth. I bob up and down, getting him nice and slicked up, his dick wet and hot against my tongue.
“Good, good,” Jack repeats. “Just like that.”
Considering I’m a newbie at this, I relish the praise more than I should. He lets out a loud moan packed with unrelenting desire. Just then, I remember that the aircraft door is still open. Anyone could hear if we don’t keep it down. Anyone could walk in.
That should make me want to stop, but it only makes me want to suck him harder and force louder moans from him.
Jack pulls out and slaps his cock on my tongue before sticking it back in. He cups a hand around the back of my head and pushes me down. I cough from putting the whole thing in my mouth.
“Good,” he says, lighting up another happy button in me. “I don’t want to boost your ego, but you give really good head. It feels so good with my dick in your mouth.”
My tongue rides up his shaft and slinks around his head, licking up more precome. Jack sinks deeper into the couch.
“I love watching you take all of it.” Since Jack’s hockey career didn’t work out, he should be a sports announcer, because his play-by-play is setting me ablaze. My body shakes with desire. My cock is so fucking hard if I shift the wrong way, I could blow my load.
Jack pushes down his pants and boxers to his knees. “I want to try something. I want you to eat my ass.”
The ask immediately revs me up like a motorcycle engine. A torrent of heat rages within me. My mouth is practically watering.
Before I’m able to nod yes, Jack lifts his legs and hugs them to his stomach. He can probably see the excitement painted on my face. His white dress shirt spills to the side, his tie flipped over his shoulder, his pants and underwear bunched at his ankles. And in the middle of that chaos, the glorious eye of this storm, is his hole. It’s the only pink I’m interested in on this plane.
I press the flat of my tongue against his opening and drag it slowly up until his balls are in my mouth. I’ve waited my whole life to know the salty, forbidden taste of another man, and even though the timer is counting down, I want to savor this. I want to savor Jack.
“Fuck. Yes. Your tongue feels so good on my hole.” Jack’s normally pale face is fully red, squeezed tight with pleasure, and maybe a little pain. That sitting position can’t be comfortable.
I lick another stripe up his hole, this time letting my tongue circle his opening. Jack’s muscles tense under my touch. His thick, trunk-like thighs flex, the carved muscles emerging under his ivory skin. I press my hands on his ass cheeks, leaving red finger marks.
I moan against his opening as my tongue circles the rim. “So hot.”
“You like tonguing my hole?”
I growl my answer into his cheeks. I press inside him, feel his hole tighten around me.
“Fuck. No one’s ever eaten me this good. It’s making my fucking eyes water. Now stop teasing me and make me come,” he cries out, the bossiest of bottoms.
I love it. I hold nothing back. I dart my tongue in and out of his hole, lapping up his heat. Above me, I hear the swishing of fabric as Jack feverishly jerks himself.
“I’m so fucking hard right now. Your tongue is making me so hard. I can’t wait to come. I’m going to fucking come everywhere.”
“Tell me when,” I say, not wanting him to mess up his suit or this plane.
“I’ll try. God,” he cries out, whiny desperation lacing his voice. Big, cocky Jack reduced to rubble.
I lick my index and middle finger and slide them inside his wet opening as my tongue works the perimeter. His hole instantly tightens around them. My cock throbs in my pants, so heavy and hard, I don’t know how the fuck I’ll be able to walk out of this plane.
“Griffin. Oh my God, Griffin. Your fingers feel so good inside me. Finger-fuck me.”
I get fast and rough, nailing his hole over and over, my thick fingers disappearing into his tight ass. I spit on his hole to keep it lubricated, and the noise from Jack as well as the friction has to be audible in the hangar because it’s blaring in my ears. But I can’t stop. My hunger for Jack knows no bounds. In that moment, I forget about the plane, the game, my job. All I want is him. His touch. His voice. His heat. It is all-consuming.
“Fuck, I’m coming. You’re making me come,” he squeals out.
Like throwing a blanket over a raging fire, I put my mouth on his dick just as he explodes. I swallow his manly seed. I give his still-hard cock a few more sucks before he unfolds himself and collapses, fully spent on the couch.
As if ordained by a higher power, at that second, his timer goes off.
“Time for your interview.” I wipe my lips.
He nods, still in a daze. His pupils continue to be lust saucers, yet he manages to pull up his pants. I look down at my jumpsuit and notice that my cock is about to tear a hole in them.
“Actually, if you jog down the sidewalk, you can get to the lobby faster. You have an extra thirty seconds.”
“To do what?” he asks, grinning at my hard-on.
I stand up and unbutton my jumpsuit as quickly as my fingers will allow. I whip my dick out and shove it into Jack’s willing mouth. He tugs the jumpsuit and pulls me forward, sinking my rock hard cock deeper inside him.
“Take it,” I grunt. “Take it.”
I’m not as chatty as him. I get to the point.
I can’t get enough of him and the magic of his tongue. Something about Jack unleashes a beast within me. I grab a fistful of his golden hair and yank so my cock is all the way inside him, making him gag.
He smiles up at me when I pull out, like he just got on his favorite roller coaster.
He strokes me as he sucks, and the sight of my cock disappearing into his pretty, dirty-talking mouth sends me over the edge. My balls draw and everything goes white as I cream down his throat.
Once again, he collapses back onto the couch, which I will definitely make sure to wipe down before my shift ends.
“Shit. Sorry,” I say, worrying that maybe it was too much for him.
“Don’t be sorry. I’m not looking for something tender. ” Jack stands and tucks in his shirt. He smooths out his pants, although he can’t get out all the wrinkles.
He checks the time on his phone.
“If you’re late, blame me,” I say.
“No need. I’ll just explain that I always try to be punctual, but your mechanic decided to finger-fuck me into oblivion.” Jack straightens his jacket and fixes the collar.
“You were the one?—”
Jack puts his hand to my mouth. “Flustered is a very sexy look on you.” He brushes his thumb over my bristly chin in a gesture that sends a dash of warmth through my veins. “I regret nothing.”
“Good luck.” I lean into him with a soft kiss that manages to crank up the heat, the taste of what just happened on each other’s lips.
I plop into one of the plane’s seats once he leaves. We are not allowed to lounge in any of our clients’ planes. And though it’s not in the employee handbook, I doubt we were allowed to do what Jack and I just did, either.
I glance out one of the windows and watch Jack jog out of the hangar. I smile to myself as he goes.