“Remember, when you get to Seoul, you’ve got an overnight stop, so don’t forget to grab your bag and clear customs.”

“Yes Mum.”

“And when you get to Heathrow, get on the Piccadilly line. It will take you all the way to King’s Cross where you get the train to Cambridge!”

“Yes Mum!”

I love my mum, I really do, but there are times when she just has to trust that I’m going to be able to figure things out on my own.

“I know you’ll be okay sweetie. I just worry, okay? It’s what we mums do.”

I gave her a quick hug.

“Love you, Mum! Now I better clear security so I can hang out with my smoking hot escort.” I nodded over at the smiling Korean Air cabin attendant patiently waiting on the other side of the security check. “Aren’t you worried I’ll have steamy and illicit sex with my new best friend?”

Mum grinned.

“I know she’s not your type. Or are you going straight on me?”

“You never know! Maybe I’ll want to… ‘experiment’.”

“Like that time with your father’s liquor cabinet, Liam?”

“Okay, okay, you win! Jeeze, one little incident puking in the rosebushes and an all-day hangover and it haunts you for life!”

I guess it’s understandable why my mum might be just a tiny little bit worried about me. I’m what you call an “unaccompanied minor”, travelling from Auckland, New Zealand to Cambridge, England, by way of Incheon International Airport and Heathrow. I know what you’re thinking, and you get that thought out of your head right now – my parents aren’t divorced. Dad is a whiz-bang science geek working on something incomprehensible that can apparently only be explained with lots of big words. He’d been toiling away here in New Zealand for years, and suddenly this start-up in Cambridge offers him the chance to develop his ideas. It was an offer too good to turn down.

But moves to the other side of the world don’t just happen overnight. The start-up wanted him to begin right away – “gotta keep ahead of the competition” – but Mum still had business to wrap with her job, not to mention selling the house, the car and everything else we weren’t packing up with us.

By mutual consent, my parents decided that the best time for me to go would be the summer holidays – after school had finished for the year, and Dad had found us a place to actually live. The upshot of all this coming and going is that at the age of 14 years, my parents decided I had enough maturity to make it to the other side of the world on my own.

Having successfully negotiated the security check dance (pockets empty! belt off! laptop case open!), the bubbly young Korean women escorted me to the departure lounge. No chance of me getting lost while in the custody of Korean Air.

I started to wonder who I would end up sitting next to. Two eleven-hour flights – was there a chance I would meet anyone interesting on the entire journey to London? I’d be doing a bit of research, and apparently some airlines won’t let men sit near children travelling on their own. Stranger danger and all that. That seemed to suggest I’d be stuck next to some middle-aged woman with an impenetrable English accent. I didn’t want to be trapped in Coronation Street for 20 hours.

The passengers in the departure lounge were a real mixed bag. English language students returning home to Korea, tourists taking advantage of cheap fares, a few families, some adventurous backpackers.

Hey, maybe I’ll get a row to myself! That would be sweeeeet.

I was so busy fantasizing about my potential trip in blissful, peaceful isolation that I didn’t register another couple of people joining us at the departure gate. One was another Korea Air cabin attendant. But the second person was a boy who looked to be about my age, or maybe a fraction younger. He was apparently being handed over to my cabin attendant.

I saw the tell-tale “UMNR” badge hanging from his neck. Another unaccompanied minor? Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all.

I pulled out my phone, and made a pretence of checking my email. Okay, what I really wanted to do was stare at him till he was imprinted on my brain, but I didn’t want him to know I was checking him out. Hence an elaborate pantomime of gazing at my phone with the concentration of a chess grandmaster while grabbing every opportunity to steal covert glances at him.

If I could pick out one person as a point of comparison, it would be a young Daniel Radcliffe of the early Harry Potter movies. The boy had dark hair, cut in that long-fringe bowl shape that Justin Bieber made notorious. You wouldn’t really call it styled – it was just kind of there, but it looked adorably cute on him. His skin was pale and apparently free of acne or any other blemish. I was incredibly jealous of that. I mean, I think I’ve got off pretty lucky compared to some of the kids at school who have acne something fierce, but I’ve got freckles and imperfections and the odd spot here or there. This kid looked like he could walk straight into a photo-shoot without any make-up.

And he had glasses – round, wire-rims, nothing fancy, but they looked good on him.

You may get the impression from this description that this boy was ticking all my boxes. And you would be right.

I was getting a churning feeling in my stomach as fear and anticipation battled themselves to a standstill inside. This boy was waaaaay cute, and I was going to be spending the best part of 24 hours sitting next to him. This flight was either going to be heaven or hell.

The wait to board the plane seemed interminable, made worse by the fact that apparently unaccompanied minors are the last passengers to board a plane. You know how long it takes to board a 747? A really long time! I hoped there would still be space to stow my bags when we finally got on board. Ever since airlines started charging for checked bags, people have been trying to stuff suitcases the size of small houses in the overhead lockers, and usually more than one.

I had my backpack filled with all the gadgets no self-respecting teenage boy would leave home without, plus my pride and joy, my laptop. It had taken some serious lobbying on my part and immaculate behaviour for the best part of a year to convince my parents I was mature enough to have my own computer. They even let me choose the model within the budget they set. It’s not a state-of-the-art gaming machine or anything, but it runs pretty smooth.

Finally the Korean cabin attendant showed us to our seats – the very last row of the plane. It was no emergency exit row or anything, but we were close to the bathrooms, and there didn’t seem to be anyone sitting in the middle aisle seats. There was some jostling as the other boy and I wrestled our bags into the overhead locker. He had a nervous giggle that just made my heart melt. You might have thought that we’d have actually, you know, spoken to each other in the 35 minutes we stood standing next to each at the departure gate. But I was completely tongue-tied. The boy had put my brain completely on the fritz.

He wasn’t helping me out by starting the conversation either. I think I caught him peeking at me a couple of times when he thought I wasn’t looking, but he’d look away shyly when I tried to look. Did I mention that I find shy guys a complete turn on? This boy was driving me crazy, and he wasn’t even doing anything.

Damn you, hormones! Damn you to hell!

I mean, it’s not like he was going to be gay or anything, right? That couldn’t happen. That didn’t happen. Every few minutes I would start to think what if… and I’d immediately squelch those feelings. He isn’t, don’t go there, don’t get your hopes up, it will only end in disappointment.

We had managed to find slots for all our gear, and buckled ourselves in for the usual pre-flight rituals. I guess being the last ones on board, the wait wouldn’t be as long as usual, but I knew sometimes there seemed to be interminable delays between the cabin door closing and the plane actually lifting off into the sky.

Seize the day here, Liam. You’re sitting next to this boy for the next who knows how long. Talk to him!

Pause.

Longer pause.

Even longer pause while several paragraphs of inner dialogue take place. You don’t need to know the details, but suffice to say, the ‘there is nothing to lose, it won’t be a disaster’ voice was having a hard time persuading the ‘it will all go horribly wrong’ voice.

Does anyone else have this problem, or is just me?

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think, just…

“Hey.”

I am truly a master of eloquence.

“Hi there,” the boy replied softly.

My heart melted. I may have spent an uncomfortably long time grinning at him like a deranged stalker. Wait, you were going to ask him something.

“Um, I’m Liam. I guess we’re going to be sitting next to each other?”

“Uhh, I’m Devon.” Oh wow, what an awesome name! He hadn’t said much, but I thought I detected the hint of an English accent? Going home perhaps? All the way to London? Maybe next to me?

Then we kind of lapsed into silence again. Was I ever going to get this conversation up to speed?

I didn’t have a chance to pursue it further. The plane was lurching into motion, and the cabin attendants were doing the safety briefing. One of the attendants who had escorted us through the airport was giving our briefing. She smiled at us. I decided to think of her as “Miss Kim” since I couldn’t remember what on earth her name actually was. Even as a gay boy, I’d class her as “smokin’ hot”. I bet Devon found her hot. Was he finding her hot?

I snuck a glance over at him, but he was poring over the movie listings in the entertainment guide.

Evidence… inconclusive.

Okay, true confession time here. I’m a bookworm. It’s not something that really fit with my carefully cultivated high school image, but in the privacy of my bedroom you’d be just as likely to find my head buried in a book as you would find me surfing porn websites. (I’m 14, not an angel you know!). This year’s birthday present had been a Kindle, and I’d been stocking it up with all the essentials ever since… Terry Pratchett, Jonathan Stroud, Philip Pullman, Patrick Ness, George RR Martin. Even if the movie selection on board turned out to be crap, I could kill hours on this flight.

So you could understand that it was some relief when the PA announced we could finally use our electronic devices again. How my Kindle could bring down a 747 I’ll never know. Devon’s eyes widened as I brought it out.

“Oh wow… you’ve got a Kindle. I’ve been really curious about them.”

Definitely a British accent. I couldn’t resist the chance to gush. “Oh man… they are sooooo good for travelling. I might never get my bag through the security check otherwise.”

Devon giggled. “Can I have a look?”

I handed it over without thinking. If I had, I might have given his request a bit more thought before I made a decision.

“This is soooo cool. It’s really small and light.” He began flipping backwards and forward through the pages. “You like Terry Pratchett? That’s awesome. Hey, what else have you got on here?”

Somewhere in the deep dark recesses of my subconscious an alarm bell was ringing, but I wasn’t paying it any attention.

“Let’s see… Monsters of Men, Young Samurai, Arthur C Clarke, Ender’s Game, the Cherub books… oh cool you’ve got some Comicality stories…”

Hey, wait a minute. Run that last bit by me again. Did he just say…. Comicality?

No! No no no no no no no no no no noooooooooooooo!

I am so fucked.

So besides the usual publisher approved fiction, I just maaaay have used my Amazon account to download certain self-published fictional works of a somewhat…. how can I put this delicately? An intimate nature. My own private collection which no one else in the world knew about. Until now.

Now he knew. The boy of my dreams. The boy I was going to covertly drool over for the next ten or twenty hours. The boy who knew… who… Comicality…. was.

Something wasn’t adding up here.

I risked a peek over at Devon. He was fidgeting in his seat, blushing fiercely, and looking for all the world as if he had just blurted out something he didn’t mean to. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take a risk here…

“Devon? You know Comicality?”

Devon squirmed in his seat, twisting his seatbelt.

“Ummm…. yeah,” he said very quietly, then rushed to add “well, you know, I don’t know him know him. Ugh, I know of him. As in read his stuff.”

“Ughh…” deep breath Liam, deep breath, you can do this, “So are you like…. you know?”

The question hung in the air, pregnant with meaning. I swear to god it was the longest wait of my entire life.

His reply was almost a whisper.

“Yeah. I guess, yes. Yes. You?”

I smiled, I didn’t have to hesitate at all. “Yeah, I am. I am too.”

When I saw the way his expression lit up, I just about died right then and there. There was just so much hope and joy and maybe, just maybe, a tiny little bit of lust? I could be imagining the last part. Lower your expectations Liam, lower your expectations.

“So what’s your favourite Comicality story?”

Devon thought about the question for a bit. “Ummm… Magic Man, I think.”

That took me by surprise. I thought it would be something obvious like “Gone From Daylight” or even “New Kid in School”.

“Heh, that’s not what I expected!”

“I think I like the idea that we all have someone looking out for us. Someone that has the answers, that will push you to take the actions you might not take yourself. It’s kind of a shame though.”

“Shame?”

“Well I think there were a lot of people who didn’t really get the story. They said some stuff on the board, and I think Comsie lost the motivation to finish the story.”

I had to look away at that point.

“What?” Devon asked.

“Well I might have been one of those people. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I see where you’re coming from… but Gideon was such a smug know-it-all! I just wanted to… punch him in the face!”

Devon laughed. “Okay, so what’s your favourite story?”

“I guess it will probably seem kind of obvious, but I love looking forward to a new chapter of Billy Chase every week. Maybe just because I’ve spent more time with the characters. But I also love Jesse 101.”

This was so unexpected. The conversation was… easy. I didn’t have to think about what I was going to say, or whether it would impress him, or whether I’d look like the world’s biggest dork for admitting my love of comic books. We went from discussing our favourite Comicality stories to favourite movies, to which Sprouse twin we liked the best. We had a lot of shared interests, but we liked different things as well, which was kind of neat. He promised to educate me on manga, I ranted at length on why the recent run of Fantastic Four was hands down the best in the comic’s history. I liked FPS shooters, he was into role-playing games. Every time I thought the conversation would die and we’d run out of things to say, he’d tell me about a funny YouTube video he’d seen, or I’d tell him about the time my best mate Jimmy and I tied capes to our backs and tried to fly off the roof of the garage.

I was falling for this boy hard. It seemed almost too good to be true.

As the conversation continued he filled me in on his background. Unlike me, his reason for being a UMNR was divorce. He’d spent Christmas with his dad and step-mum in Tauranga, and now he was heading back to his mum and step-dad in England. Any lingering animosity between his parents seemed to have disappeared long ago. He said they got on well – they just didn’t see each other much anymore, being on opposite sides of the world.

 

***

“That was good!” I burped as I finished off the last of my cheesecake.

“You say that now! Wait until you’ve had five more meals like that and airline food won’t seem so exciting.”

True.

Devon pushed the last of his carrots about the small plastic serving tub.

“You know, I’ve been wondering… What’s going to happen when we reach Seoul?”

I had started to give that some thought myself. We were on a weird flight. There was a stopover in Seoul before we boarded our plane to London. A long stopover – the connecting flight didn’t leave until the very next day. So long that Korean Air was actually putting us up for the night in a swanky hotel near the airport.

“You don’t think… they’d put us in the same room do you?”

I’d been trying really hard to avoid thinking about that possibility… because every time I did it caused a hormonal overload that could only lead to embarrassment. If we were alone… together… for a night… well, there were all sorts of possibilities.

“Ummmm. Dunno. Maybe?”

“Ummm… I think I might like it if they did,” Devon said quietly.

Oh god, the hormones were definitely taking over now. I need a distraction before this gets completely out of hand.

“Hey, I saw you looking through the entertainment guide earlier. Are there any good movies on this flight?”

We quickly decided we wanted to watch the same movie, which led to fifteen minutes of vigorous discussion. We quickly crossed off movies we had already seen, then started discarding movies we had absolutely no interest in (the latest Nicholas Sparks dreck, the three hour meditation on loss amongst the sand dunes of the Baltic by Estonia’s finest film maker). We debated whether the boy in “Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close” was cute enough to justify watching it in spite of some insipid reviews, and eventually settled on the safe choice of “Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol”.

Throughout the entire movie I found myself looking over at Devon again and again, as if just to make sure that it wasn’t a dream and there was, in fact, an incredibly cute gay boy sitting next to me. And numerous times I caught Devon doing exactly the same thing. He’d smile at me, and I’d feel myself breaking into a grin in response. I couldn’t stop it. This feeling would just well up in me, and I’d feel light, so light. I was kind of starting to understand why the star-crossed lovers in musicals burst into song now… nothing else seemed big enough to express the emotions I was feeling.

Fortunately for the other passengers of the flight, I was able to suppress my urge to serenade Devon. The world isn’t quite ready for my particular musical talents (or lack thereof).

After the second movie, I could see Devon’s eyes drooping.

“Don’t wanna sleep,” he grumbled drowsily. “You might be just a dream.”

“I’m not going anywhere dude!” I smiled back. He slumped back into his seat, eyes closed, a cat-that-just-ate-the-canary grin plastered on his face. I don’t know how long I just watched him sleeping, trying to memorize every feature on his face, before sleep took me as well.

 

***

 

When I woke up, who knows how many hours later, it was Devon who was staring at me. Through bleary eyes I realised I had somehow ended up with my head resting on Devon’s shoulder.

“How long was I like that?”

“No idea. You were like that when I woke.”

“You should have said something!”

“I liked it!”

The pre-landing meal service was in full swing, and we were treated to another round of airline food.

The landing itself, when it came, was rather abrupt. Okay Devon and I had heard the various announcements about tray tables and upright seats, but we were trying to finish watching the latest Jason Statham movie before we landed. Unfortunately the entertainment system shut down with 30 minutes of the movie still to go.

Once again, we were the very last people off the plane, escorted through the airport under the vigilant eyes of the Korean Air staff. Devon and I were a bit goggle eyed at Incheon International Airport. It’s huge, and being Korea, there were massive Samsung high-definition television sets everywhere.

We passed through customs without incident, retrieved our bags, and went to the transit counter where we were given our hotel and meal vouchers and shown where to wait for the hotel bus.

Upon stepping outside to board the bus I discovered this immutable truth about Korea in January – it’s hellishly cold. There was snow on the ground on either side of the road.

The hotel itself was only five minutes from the airport. The lobby was cavernous, with a monumental Christmas tree occupying pride of place.

Devon and I stepped up to the reception counter together.

“Could we get a room together? It will make it easier for you to keep track of us!” The receptionist chatted quickly with the women from Korean Air, and then smiled at us.

“We can do that!”

“Is there internet in our rooms?”

“It’s extra. Do you have a credit card?”

Devon groaned, but I reached into my wallet. His eyes were wide as I passed the precious piece of plastic over.

“Your parents trust you with a credit card?!” he whispered forcefully.

“Well it’s a shared account, and they monitor the statements like a hawk. I have to pay for every last item out of my allowance. But it’s good for situations like these.”

Apparently having fulfilled her duties for the night, the Korean Air lady headed off, so Devon and I headed to the elevators to find our room.

“Oh my gosh! Is that the pool!? It’s huge!”

Through a glass wall on the first floor we could see a full 25 metre lap pool and adjoining spa.

“You wanna go swimming after dinner?”

There was a moment of silence as we both considered the implications of what that meant… seeing each other wet and nearly naked. Well I don’t know exactly what was going through Devon’s head, but a slideshow of my “boys in speedos” picture collection was running through mine.

“S.. s.. sure. That would be cool…”

We got to our room – twin beds naturally, and for a few minutes Devon and I just ran around turning on all the lights, checking out the minibar (and it’s mind-boggling prices), and leafing through the hotel literature. I brought out the laptop, and logged into the hotel’s wireless network. I checked my email and Facebook… nothing too important. I fired off a quick message to my parents to let them know I had made it halfway round the world.

“Hey, you want to email your parents or something?”

“Yeah, I better.”

Devon sat down and started typing away.

“So… you got any porn on this machine?”

Now it was my turn to blush a deep crimson.

“Maaaaaybe.”

Devon smiled. “Awesome.”

Before we could further explore that train of thought, my tummy rumbled. It was now getting on towards 6 pm Seoul time, and I had been eating nothing but airport and airline food for the last 15 hours. Devon giggled.

“Dinner perhaps?”

***

 

“You’re totalling perving on that boy. He’s like… twelve.”

“No, I’m not… well, okay, maybe just a little.

“You should. He’s cute!”

We were sitting in one of the hotel conference rooms, which had been turned into a buffet for overnighting travellers like us. Devon and I had heaped our plates with everything we could fit on them… then gone back for more when we had cleared the first courses away. I tell you, buffets are teenage boy heaven.

Plus there was the chance to check out the dinner guests. Some of whom could credibly be classed as hot. Yeah, Devon had totally busted me. But he was right – the boy was cute, in that innocent eager puppy way.

“I know what’s going through your head. You totally want to pull off his clothes and lick all over his…”

“Devon!” I whispered fiercely. My angel was showing he had a devilish side to him, and I was not going to let him embarrass me in the middle of a room full of strangers.

Devon giggled at my discomfort, then tucked into his sixth different food dish of the night.

 

***

 

“Oh my god, I can hardly moooooove!” Devon moaned.

“Well, you were the one that went back to the dessert table FOUR times!”

“That was only one more than you, you know!”

“Okay, guilty, guilty”.

Devon slumped back on his bed and groaned.

“I really want to go swimming, but I don’t think I can move just yet.”

“Umm…. YouTube videos while you digest the three slices of chocolate cake, two mousses, four raspberry tarts and two fruit salads?”

“They were soooooo good. But yeah, that sounds like a great idea!”

The next twenty minutes seemed to fly by as we shared our favourite videos… Total Eclipse of the Heart (Literal Version), the news reporter spouting gibberish on live television, the Pachelbel Canon in D Minor rant, a marathon music mix of Greyson Chance, Ronan Parke, Hanson, Justin Bieber and One Direction.

Of course talking about our favourite boy musicians and boy bands led on to talk of our favourite boys in general, so our Youtube video watching session turned into a Tumblr hopping session, as we bounced from one boy blog to another. Tumblr may have 50 million blogs, but it seems like 10 million of them exist as a giant porn re-circulation system.

“I’ve got this theory,” Devon said, as he clicked through to another screen filled with speedo-clad orgasms-in-waiting, “that there is in fact only one picture on Tumblr and everyone else just reblogs it.”

After trying to find the original picture at the bottom of one particularly long reblog train I was beginning to suspect he was right.

“So… you got any real porn on this laptop?”

“Wellllll… I’m a horny fourteen year old boy. What do you think?”

“Oh my god, you do! You totally do! Can I see it? Can I see it? Pleeeeeease?”

“Oh my god, you would think you’d never been to gayboystube before!”

“Ugh, my parents are just tech savvy enough to be annoying. They read one of those ‘keeping your child safe on the internet’ pamphlets, and promptly moved the computer into the living area. They check my history all the time. Pictures of hot shirtless boys… acceptable. Twinks ramming it up the ass… not so much.”

“Well I don’t save much to my computer. Pictures I really like, and a few videos that are especially hot.”

“Can you show me one?” Devon was almost shy about asking now.

“Well, let’s see… this is a collection of scenes with Jesse Starr. I think he’s really hot. How about one scene, then we go for that swim?”

***

Now you might think that with all that stimulation we would have been rolling around naked by the time the video was over. That’s how it always seems to work in the stories. But while I think both of us were horny as hell, we were also scared… scared to be the one that took that next step.

So that’s how we found ourselves in the changing rooms of the health and fitness centre, getting ready to undress in front of each… another. A moment that gave us both pause.

“Ah what the hell,” I thought, “Just do it!” And with the Nike slogan ringing up in my ears, I lifted my shirt over my head, showing my bare chest to Devon for the first time.

“Jesus H Christ! You’ve got abs of steel!”

Now it was my turn to blush. Devon was openly staring at me, practically salivating at the mouth.

“Do you work out or something?”

“Well it’s mostly triathlon, I guess. I’m on the team at school.”

“Are all triathletes ripped like that?”

“Well… ummm… I guess most of the boys on my team are…”

“Oh my god, I think I’ve found a new favourite sport!”

“Aw shut up.” I playfully batted him. “Let’s see what’s under your shirt, mister!”

Devon suddenly got really shy. He scuffled his feet and wouldn’t look at me.

“You won’t make fun right? Cause I don’t have muscles like you or anything. You’re like…. hot, and I’m just…”

I lifted his chin up with my finger, brushed the hair out of his eyes, and stared deeply into them.

“…the boy that I’m absolutely crazy about it, and if you don’t start pulling off your clothes, I’m going to strip you right here and now!”

Devon giggled, and slowly pulled off his shirt, then stared back at me defiantly, daring me to comment.

Devon was right. He wasn’t me. He didn’t have muscles, or sharply defined abs. He was just… smooth. Slim, but not scrawny, with not a hair to be seen.

I had to bite my knuckle.

“Oh god, Devon. I don’t think you realise just how unbelievably hot I find you right now. Forget the muscles… you’re just perfect the way you are. I never liked the guys with big muscles anyway… who wants someone who looks like they’ve been inflated with a bicycle pump?”

“Ummm… I may have a problem undressing the rest of the way…”

I saw an obvious tent in his jeans. Truth be told, I had the same problem. We were alone in the changing rooms at the moment, but we’d seen people come and go.

“I tell you what… count of three… we drop ‘em and change fast okay?”

Devon gulped and nodded.

“One… “

I unbuttoned my jeans and Devon followed suit.

“Two…”

I slowly pulled down the zipper, and again Devon copied my actions.

“Three…”

I dropped my jeans and underwear to the floor and Devon did the same. Even though we said we were going to pull our togs on immediately, I made no move to put mine on. I just stood there, openly gazing at Devon’s hard cock, while Devon drank in the sight of mine.

You’d think from porn that every guy lusted after the biggest cock they could find. But to me, it was all about the proportions and quality. Devon’s cock transfixed me. He was uncircumcised. It was maybe four to five inches long… not huge, but a nice size on him, and just the right thickness. You could tell he was into that transitional phase of puberty.

“You’re cut.”

Indeed I was. My tool was pretty similar to Devon’s with the aforementioned difference. It seemed to do the job when it was just me and my hand.

Who knows how long we might have spent standing there ogling each other if we hadn’t heard someone entering the changing rooms. The swimming togs came on pretty quick at the sound! I think at that point, both of us really needed a cold pool to cool down in.

Devon favoured board shorts, while I had the surfer’s jammers on, those skin-tight swim togs that come down to just above your knee. Streamlined, but a little less embarrassing than speedos. Don’t ask me why I felt less… exposed in the longer pants than in the togs cut short – neither left much to the imagination when it came to certain areas… but I just did.

“You look really good in those. But you’d look really hot in speedos.”

“I kind of have a pair… they make us wear them for our swimming training…”

“Oh, I have to see that!”

My cheeks were burning crimson, so my response was to dive into the pool and rattle off a couple of fast laps.

When I resurfaced, Devon was gazing at me from the shallow end in admiration.

“Damn you swim like a dolphin. Wish I felt half as graceful.”

“Nothing hours and hours and hours and hours of doing laps wouldn’t fix, I’m sure!”

We mucked around the pool, splashing each other, trying to dunk each other, and making more than a few attempts to pants each other. Eventually Devon retired to the spa pool, while I burned up a few more laps. A swimming pool is the best cure for long-distance flights ever. I could almost feel the stresses of being cooped up in a seat for nearly twelve hours melting off me. I pushed the pace till I could feel the burn in my lungs… the good kind of burn.

Finally I joined Devon in the spa pool, panting hard. There was another couple in the spa pool, but Devon turned the bubbles on, and I could feel them softly massaging my body. Then I felt something else… Devon’s hand on mine. I looked at him and smiled, and he smiled back. We didn’t have any words for each other. We just lay back and soaked.

Then I felt Devon squeeze my thigh. There was mischief in his eyes.

 

***

 

“Where are the showers in this place?” he asked as we walked back through the changing rooms.

“I think I saw a door over there.”

Pause.

“Well that’s unexpected.”

The Korean interpretation of a shower room was a little different from the ones back home. There weren’t any shower stalls for one thing – just spaces along the wall. Some just had a stool and bucket; others had Western style shower heads. There were small dividing screens, but they didn’t really give you a ton of privacy.

But that was only the start. There were not one but two plunge pools, one hot, one cold. And there was a steam room and a sauna.

“Wet or dry?” Devon grinned.

“Let’s try the steam room first, then the sauna.”

Both of us were dripping with sweat within seconds of entering the steam room. We could barely see each other through the fog, even though we were only a couple of feet apart. Devon started to gently stroke my arm, tracing pathways through the sweat.

Any thoughts of Devon doing more were ended when a plump Korean waddled into the steam room. Somehow the sight killed our passion instantly.

“Sauna?”

“Yeah, let’s try it.”

After the humid stickiness of the steam room, the dry heat of the sauna was almost a relief. The sauna wasn’t empty either. There was a boy of about eleven or twelve, along with three swarthy men with close cropped hair and numerous tattoos. They were talking back and forth to each other in some harsh Slavic language. Eventually the boy walked off to have a shower, and a few minutes later his companions followed him.

Devon had definitely noticed the longing looks I cast at the towel-clad boy as he left.

“You thought he was hot didn’t you?” giggled Devon. “You totally wanted to ravish him!”

“Well yeah… if it wasn’t for the thought of getting the snot beat out of me by his brothers? Uncles? Damned if I know, but they looked hard ass!”

Devon took a quick look round. Then he looked at me in the eyes… really looked and held my gaze. He inched closer, then slowly, slowly, slowly brought his lips to mine.

I’m not sure what I expected my first kiss, my first real kiss, to be like, but this exceeded every fantasy I ever had. His lips were so moist, so soft, and his kiss was so gentle. As slowly as the kiss started, he pulled away gauging my reaction.

“I’ve been waiting for a chance to do that…”

I didn’t answer him. Instead, I put my hand behind his head and pulled him towards me. I wanted this, I needed this, I needed more of him, and he did too, and the kisses got hungrier, and his tongue started to dart out, then mine too, then they were battling for control and I never wanted it to end, I wanted more, more more, and I couldn’t get him close enough.

Finally we broke apart.

“Wow.”

We were both out of breath and just a little stunned.

“You know, right now, I’d like to go somewhere a little more private,” Devon said huskily, “and do a lot more of that!”

I hadn’t been able to help myself. The moment we were inside the elevator I had started stealing kisses from Devon. When he tried to respond, I’d dodge back out of the way.

“Hey, no fair, you tease! I want a taste too!”

I pecked him on the lips again.

“Cut it, you!”

We were both a little drunk on happiness as we stumbled into our room. I moved forward to kiss Devon again… a long, lingering kiss this time. With one finger on my chest, he pushed me back down onto the bed.

“Wait right there!”

“Wait?!”

“I need a shower doofus! We didn’t have one at the pool!”

“I’ll join you!”

“Nah ugh uh! No sexy shower time for naughty kiss thieves!” I whined in frustration. This boy was killing me.

He was probably in there for all of five minutes, but it felt like forever. First the shower was running. Then it stopped, and I waited and wondered what Devon was doing in the bathroom.

Finally he emerged from the bathroom, a fluffy white hotel towel wrapped around his waist, and of all things, his “Unaccompanied Minor” badge draped from his neck. Somehow I found the sight of the badge against his perfect smooth skin incredibly sexy.

And then he dropped the towel.

Devon walked over to me, his hardness leading the way.

“I’m just an innocent, vulnerable child.” (I snorted at the “innocent” part). “Whatever would I do,” he put his hands on my shoulders, his beautiful cock just inches from my face, “if someone were to take advantage of me?”

I couldn’t resist any longer. I gave his cock – that full, sexy cock – a long slow lick from the base right to the tip. Devon shuddered.

He pulled me up, and began unbuttoning my shirt. I let him pull it off me, then he lifted my t-shirt over my head. As the t-shirt lifted over my face, covering my eyes, with hands trapped in the tangle of fabric, Devon suddenly stopped and kissed me on the lips.

“I can steal kisses too,” he whispered. He finished lifting the t-shirt over my head, but left my arms wrapped up in the fabric and pushed me back down to the bed. my arms trapped underneath me. I found that hint of powerlessness an incredible turn-on.

Devon unzipped my jeans agonizingly slowly, then equally slowly pulled them off my legs. My cock was tenting vigorously inside my boxer-briefs. Devon grasped it through the material and I gasped out loud.

“Mmmm, so sexy,” he murmured. And then a visual I will cherish for eternity – Devon, pulling my underwear down with his teeth, his eyes fixed on mine.

My underpants had barely hit the floor before Devon was swallowing my cock.

Let me just say – everything they say about blow jobs is absolutely true. I was in heaven already, but Devon’s ravenous, gentle, attentive, delicate, talented mouth took me somewhere else completely. There aren’t words that do it justice. I was thrashing in ecstasy to the point where Devon had to hold me down with one palm.

And then he stopped.

I whined with the sense of incompleteness and unfinished business.

Devon straddled my chest and shuffled forward till his cock was poking at my lips.

I needed no second invitation.

I tried to remember everything I had read on Nifty, or seen on videos about giving the perfect blowjob… no teeth, lots of tongue. Beyond that I just experimented, trying different actions to see what Devon liked.

Soon he was writhing and bucking his hips, and I just held my lips tightly sealed around his cock and he drove it into my mouth again and again, moaning with pleasure.

Then he stopped. I looked at him, puzzled as he withdrew and leaned back. There was an odd look on his face as he reached back and grasped my still hard cock. I waited with bated breath to see where he was going with this.

He shuffled around a bit, and suddenly my cock was probing at his butthole.

“Wait!” I gasped out. “Are you sure about this?”

Never in a million years would I have thought when I sat down next to Devon that he and I might end up… even saying the words in my head felt forbidden. We’d barely known each other 12 hours, and now we were about to…

He reached down again.

“Wait!”

“What?” he growled, starting to get a little frustrated.

“Suitcase. Bathroom bag. You’ll see.”

A little confused Devon went over to my suitcase and opened up the bathroom bag.

“Holy crap! Condoms and lube? Do your parents know about this?”

“My mum bought them for me. You can’t imagine how embarrassing that moment was!”

Devon tore open the foil packet, and with a bit of fumbling, rolled the condom over my throbbing penis. As he generously smeared lube all over it, I desperately started mentally compiling lists of New Zealand cricket players to avoid climaxing right then and there.

Satisfied with the state of my cock, Devon then reached back, and pushing the jelly-like substance into his ass. With a determined look on his face, he lowered himself onto my well-wrapped pole. There was some resistance, and I wondered if this was just a plain bad idea, but Devon wasn’t going to be deterred. He twisted around a bit, then suddenly his asshole opened up and I was in with a rush.

“Oh,” Devon gasped.

“Umm… are you okay?”

“Umm… I think… just give me a minute, okay?”

Devon could take all the time in the world. The feeling of his hot insides pressing on my cock was unbelievable, and I felt the slightest movement on his part would set me off like Vesuvius.

Eventually Devon apparently felt comfortable enough to move a little… just a little bit at first, but his movements grew longer and deeper as he started to find his rhythm. He seemed to be enjoying himself, and as for me? I was out of my god-damned mind.

My hips started bucking to meet his movements. I couldn’t help it, I had to have more of him. Devon started to make pleasurable whimpering noises. Whatever we were collectively doing, it was working for him, and definitely working for me.

Illicitly downloaded porn movies had led me to believe that fucking would last ten or fifteen minutes. The reality of course was more like two or three. But they were the best three minutes of my life.

The eruption was coming and I couldn’t hold it back any longer; I was filling the condom with squirt after squirt, and apparently that was all Devon needed, because his cum was flying all over my stomach in seconds. He leaned down and kissed me and it was unbelievably fucking beautiful.

I burst into tears.

Devon panicked.

“What did I do? Did I go to fast? Oh god, I knew it was a bad idea to go there…”

“It’s not that! It’s not that at all! This day… tonight… right here, right now… it’s the best moment of my life, bar none. I’m so happy, and I’m happy for you, and sharing this, it’s all I ever wanted, you’re all I ever wanted, but it’s not gonna last, because in another day we’re going to land in London, and you’ll go one direction, and I’ll go another and we’ll probably never see each other again, and I don’t want that, I don’t want that at all, I want to be with you, and kiss you and hug you, and do wild and crazy sexy stuff, and watch you sleep and hold you and spend cold nights rugged up in front of the fire and slow-dance with you at the school disco, and there are so many things I want to talk about with you and share with you, and it’s so unfair because it won’t happen.”

By this time Devon was crying as well, but he was smiling through the tears too. He put a hand on my cheek, and traced the track of a tear with his thumb.

“You mean that much to me too.” To hear him say that… so gently, so tenderly, it all but started up the waterworks.

“Let’s work it out,” he said practically. “The UK isn’t that big… maybe we’ll be able to visit each other during holidays or something. I never even asked you where you live… or will live, you’re moving there for the first time, aren’t you?”

“Let me think. It’s near Cambridge… little town called Histon or something like that.”

Devon got the strangest expression on his face, as if he didn’t know which emotion to express first. Then he did the last thing I would have expected.

He burst out laughing.

“Histon? Seriously? You’re not joking me at all?”

“No,” I said confused. “Why would I?”

“I live in Impington. It’s like… five minutes away on a bike tops. You could probably run there in fifteen!”

I was stunned. The boy of my dreams… was also the boy next door? Things like that just did not happen in real life. They certainly didn’t happen to me.

“Devon… do you… do you want to be my boyfriend?”

Devon kissed me on the lips. “More than anything in the world. Could we perhaps clean up a bit first though? I’m like ten kinds of sticky right now!”

We showered… together this time, and it was everything I imagined. Devon massaged the shampoo and conditioner into my hair, and that was pretty special, but then he started rubbing the shower gel all over me, and that was a whole nother story. I couldn’t keep my hands off him at that point, as I touched and stroked every inch of his silky smooth skin. The shower hadn’t started off particularly erotic, but it was sure finishing that way.

We stepped out of the shower, and dried each other with the big fluffy hotel towels. Then we fell back into bed in a tangle of limbs, smothering each other in kisses.

“Devon?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I’d like you to fuck me.” Devon looked at me with a questioning look on his face. “Yeah, it kind of scares me. But it seems only fair. And I want to share that with you.”

“Okay,” Devon replied. “Just as long as you’re absolutely certain. How do you want to do it?”

I got on my hands and knees on the bed, and Devon started lubing up my hole. The feeling of his fingers back there… I can’t honestly say it felt particularly good or particularly bad… it just felt… odd. Satisfied with his work, Devon slipped on a condom and tried to enter me.

Several times in fact.

He groaned with frustration. I tried to help him out, but we just couldn’t seem to line up all the right parts.

“This never happens in porn films!” he exclaimed.

“Relax, we’ll make this happen. Let’s try a different position and see if that works.”

I switched over to lie back on the bed. I pulled up my legs, and Devon quickly got the idea. With my legs pressed against his shoulders, he made a renewed effort to penetrate me.

I squeaked with pain as I felt his cock press against my asshole.

“I’ll stop…”

“No!” I interrupted. “Just… go slow, okay?”

Devon nodded. He kept up a solid consistent pressure. I tried to remember anything helpful I’d read on the internet. Relax. Pretend you’re taking a dump. Suddenly my sphincter opened up and Devon was filling me up in an instant.

Breathe, Liam, breathe. The initial pain at the invasion was fading a bit. With a great deal of care, Devon slowly pulled out, then slid back in again. His pace began to pick up and then… then he hit the spot, and suddenly I understood why people liked getting fucked.

Devon was an animal now, thrusting rapidly with no control whatsoever. I think he would have liked to have prolonged the experience, but his body had other ideas, and it was all over minutes later.

“We…” he panted “have definitely got to do that more often!”

Eventually even the horniest of teenage boys have to sleep, and finally we did, Devon spooned inside my arms.

 

***

 

If you’ll excuse the indulgence, I’m going to take a moment to describe breakfast the following morning because it was Out Of This World. Instead of a converted conference room, the buffet breakfast was “served” in the main hotel restaurant.

The restaurant was large enough that there wasn’t one kitchen station, but three. At one you could get eggs any way you wanted, bacon, sausages, cheeses, a dozen different varieties of cold cut meat. Another station had cereals and mueslis and fruit of all descriptions. The third was the bakery – rolls, croissants, muffins, pancakes, French toast… they’d even whip you up a waffle on the spot.

Devon and I were in heaven, and did what every boy our age would do: turned the occasion into a multi-course banquet. We just kept refilling our plates again and again.

Our plane didn’t leave till after lunch, so we had time to use the pool and sauna again. Not much hanky-panky this time… well okay, there may have been a few stolen kisses every time we thought we could get away with it… but it felt like that ‘burning-need-to-screw-like-rabbits-because-we-never-knew-when-we-might-get-the-chance-to-do-so-again’ had passed. The knowledge that we could, and probably would, see each other again in the UK seemed to relax us both.

I didn’t know whether the extended stopover would slay the dreaded jet lag demon, but I certainly felt more refreshed as we were hustled onto the plane for the last leg of our trip.

The whole second leg turned into a hazy blur. Devon and I chatted, we ate, we watched movies, we slept. We finally saw the end of that Jason Statham movie (spoiler alert: he kicked the bad guys asses). We slept, a lot in fact.

I was in the middle of one of these naps when I felt Devon gently shaking me awake.

“What?” I mumbled drowsily.

“Quiet,” he whispered, “follow me!”

I was still trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes as Devon pulled me by the hand towards the back of the plane. The cabin lighting was low, and most of the passengers seemed to be asleep. Devon looked around furtively, then apparently satisfied the coast was clear, opened the door to one of the bathrooms and pushed me inside.

“Devon, what are-?”

But Devon had already stepped inside behind me, and locked the door shut. Devon was grinning with what I would call his “trouble-making” smile.

“Mile High Club, baby!”

The implications of that had barely sunk in before he was squatting in the cramped bathroom, unbuttoning my jeans, and pulling down my briefs. Then I was doing my best to stifle my groans as his lips wrapped around my cock.

I guess he’d liked a few of the things I’d done with him because he used a lot more tongue this time to massage all over my rock-hard cock. He’d switch from just teasing the tip to long sucks along the entire length. His hands gripped my butt firmly, and as I got closer, Devon urged me to start thrusting.

I needed so second invitation.

Devon kept the seal of his lips around my cock tight as I bucked wildly, trying to thrust deeper and faster into his beautiful mouth. I was trying to hold it and trying to hold it and trying to hold it and trying to hold it, a surfer riding the crest of the wave, a bit longer, a bit longer, a bit longer, then the wave broke, I couldn’t hold it any longer, and I came in a shuddering, shaky climax. Knees wobbly, I sank down to sit on the toilet seat.

Devon used a finger to collect up a strand of cum that had escaped from his eager mouth. He raised it to his mouth as if to lick it up… then he suddenly had a better idea, and lowered the finger towards my mouth. In my post-orgasm haze I sucked at it eagerly, extracting every last drop of the salty nectar. Devon caressed my cheek with his other hand.

Then he pulled back and unbuttoned his own jeans. His steel-hard penis bounced off his taut stomach with a slap as it was freed from the confines of his Calvin Kleins. I made love to that beautiful tool until Devon erupted with his own explosion of succulent boy juice.

We stole back to our seats with hushed giggles, overwhelmed at the sheer audacity of what we’d just done.

 

***

 

After the hushed tranquillity of the plane, the chaos of Heathrow was a rude awakening.

Here’s the funny thing: Korean Air had diligently escorted us halfway ‘round the world, making sure we were taken care of and looked after every step of the way. But their duty ended at the arrivals hall at Heathrow. Once we had collected our bags, passed through immigration, and left the passenger-only area of the airport, we were on our own. I guess in these situations they usually expect parents to be waiting. I thought it was somewhat ironic comparing the attention we got on the airplane (where frankly, how lost could we have gotten?) with the lack thereof at Heathrow, when it seemed to me all manner of things could have gone catastrophically wrong.

Devon was a lifesaver here. He’d spent enough time in London to know how to navigate the public transport system. He guided me to the Piccadilly Line, walked me through buying a ticket, and guided me onto the train with “Mind the Gap” and “Mind the closing doors” ringing in my ears.

The tube ride was pretty long… first travelling overground through the outer suburbs of London, then descending underground. The tube stations passed in a blur with names both familiar and strange… Knightsbridge, Hyde Park Corner, Piccadilly Circus, Leicester Square, Covent Garden.

“It’s like riding through a Monopoly set,” I commented, gazing at the well-ordered spaghetti squiggle known as the London Underground map.

The Piccadilly Line stopped right at Kings Cross Station, but it seemed like we had to walk through an endless labyrinth of tiled corridors to get from the Underground platform to the trains heading north. Finally we were safely on board, heading to the Cambridge Railway Station.

“Mobile number?”

“Check.”

“Email address?”

“Check.”

“Instant messenger and Skype usernames?”

“Check.”

“Facebook friend?”

“Check.”

“I wonder how on earth our parents ever managed to stay in touch with each other.”

The doors were opening; I was spilling out into the grey overcast day, and it felt like the end of one thing, but the start of something that promised so much more. We pushed through the ticket barriers and there was my dad, and there was a couple that must have been Devon’s parents and they were both converging on us, and stopped, a little confused to see us together.

I took Devon’s hand in mind.

“Dad, I’d like to introduce you to someone I met on the plane. His name’s Devon and well… he’s sort of my boyfriend now…”

 

 

Published September 1, 2012

Comments:

  1. Cool story Cirrus.  Glad to see someone else appreciates Jesse Starr's … ummmm … body of work.  Seriously though great story.  Glad to see your hard work paid off.

  2. Wow, I loved your story from start to end. Please tell me your writing a sequel, definitely a series to follow your story. I am a fan of comicality but I will be searching for more Cirrus stories on the net.

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