English Lads

by Adam Carpenter

  But he wasn’t in London yet, was he?

  “So,” Jake said, signaling the bartender for another round. “It should be a fun flight.”

  “Yes,” Erich said, “very bumpy.”

  A suggestive comment like that, Jake nearly shot his load right there and then.

  Nearly.

  * * *

  Jake Westbury settled in his seat with a permanent hard-on, or so it seemed. He was completely turned-on. Between the alluring Virgin Atlantic Airlines and the sexy Erich Sommer seated just ten rows ahead of him, he laughed at the irony. A newcomer to the airline, to sex on an airplane, too. Since their fortuitous meeting at the bar, there was little getting around the fact that some form of sex would occur on board this airplane. Erich wanted it, Jake wanted it. They had felt heat build between them, neither of them denying the attraction crackling between them. It was the anticipation of when, how, where…which position, that taunted Jake. He thought about it as he buckled himself into this seat, when he felt the orgasmic thrust of the giant jet shooting in to the dark sky. Damn, takeoff was positively arousing. After a short delay, a flight attendant had come around asking for his drink order, and considering he’d already consumed three beers, Jake probably should have stuck to coke. Still, turned on as he was, he wanted to keep the party going. So he ordered red wine in anticipation of the beef tips he’d ordered as a meal. Keep the buzz, suck the cock.

  About two agonizing hours into the flight, meals dispensed with, a second small bottle of wine at his side, Jake was feeling woozy and tired, unsure that what he and Erich had discussed was actually going to happen. He was watching The Hangover on the screen and hoped it wasn’t a sign of things to come. After his passport issue, he needed no further drama. In fact, he hoped the intrigue over his lost I.D. was the only drama he would see on this trip. After all, this was so much more than a vacation, it was a change of life based on the idea of falling in love. It’s what Jake truly desired, to meet that someone special and fall hopelessly in love. No more chance encounters, no more slutty nights of great sex and bad behavior, no more nights of picking up sexy men like Nico.

  Ah, Nico. The man behind this trip.

  Hot, hairy, brown eyes that penetrated your inner soul, totally nice package, Nico had been visiting New York from Spain, looking for a hot night of memorable sex. Jake had met him at the bar, followed through on the alluring dance of seduction, ended up taking him home. But when Jake had awakened in the morning, he’d been filled with regret. How many more nights would he have like this? Not that he was complaining, Nico had serviced him well—that night and that morning—it’s just that…well, when would someone not only stay for breakfast but for lunch, dinner and beyond? That’s when Jake had decided he needed to change his ways, and this trip to London was his way of starting fresh.

  Yeah, you’re off to a great start, Jake. A quickie on the plane.

  Erich Sommer was coming his way now, his intent as clear as the bulge in his pants. Could Jake really go through with this? Was he that appreciative of Erich’s having found his passport? Was that worth sacrificing your sense of self-worth? Or maybe this fling was supposed to happen, an interim moment, sandwiched between past life and future dreams. Not quite Jake’s old life in New York, not saddled with the ideals awaiting him in London either. A mere distraction lost somewhere over the Atlantic, forgotten before they landed at Heathrow.

  The seat beside Jake was empty, so Erich just plopped down beside him.

  “I had the pasta. Big mistake.”

  “Beef,” Jake said.

  “Couldn’t wait, huh?” he said, smiling sideway at him.

  “I said beef. Not sausage,” Jake replied.

  “Ooh, dirty boy. So, you gonna follow me?”

  “Are you sure…”

  Erich frowned at Jake’s hesitation. “Are you worried about what we are going to do, or worried about being caught?”

  Well, that was a question, wasn’t it? Not one Jake knew the answer to.

  “I’ll tell you what, Jake. It’s like…what, 3:00 in the morning New York time? Most of the people on board are sleeping, and if they’re not, they’re certainly not paying any attention to a couple of guys who want to have a little transatlantic fun. The flight attendants, they are in break mode, busy talking amongst each other, no doubt complaining about difficult passengers. The bathroom behind us…it is free—I see the light off—and no one is waiting. I will go first, leave it unlocked. You follow, we lock it. Yes?”

  Jake wasn’t so sure about “yes,” but he found his head nodding nonetheless. Though which head was in charge, Jake couldn’t be sure. He was swimming in beer and wine, his mind definitely under the influence. His cock, though, it was leading the charge, thrusting against the tight enclosure of his jeans. Wanting release. Knowing it was possible.

  Erich got up, disappearing from Jake’s vision.

  Jake turned back, noticed an empty space outside the restroom. He heard the door close, but the light did not go on. For a second he considered his options. Get up, join Erich. Stay put, piss off Erich. Not that he expected the man to cause trouble if Jake didn’t follow though, but he certainly expected something in return for retrieving Jake’s passport. If not for Erich, Jake might still be at JFK, or worse, back home and registering for a quickie passport. So, basically, it came down to a quickie passport or a quickie in the airport bathroom?

  Jake got up from his seat, his eyes darting around his neighbors, none of them paying him any mind God, was it always this easy, just a casual stroll down the aisle to the bathroom, sneak in when no one was paying attention, join someone else inside the tight quarters? And then what, indulge in their basest desires? The answer to that question was quite obvious once Jake slipped inside the small bathroom. He found Erich sitting on the closed seat of the toilet. Pants pulled down around his ankles, his hand wrapped around an uncut, thick cock, its tip smiling at Jake like a welcoming present.

  “Lock the door,” Erich said.

  Shit, Jake had been so surprised by what he saw, he’d forgotten. Quickly, he slid the bolt across the lock, effectively shutting them off from the rest of the aircraft. As uncertain as he was about what was to happen, Jake was not in control. Erich stood, coming right at him, fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt to reveal Jake’s chest.

  “Hmm, you were right, plenty more,” Erich said, brushing the fine, brown fur that covered his pecs. “That’s feels so nice, really sexy.”

  He pushed Jake up against the sink, his hand guiding his cock up over the trail of hair on Jake’s stomach. Brushing his cock upwards into the thicker part of Jake’s chest, it finally made its way to Jake’s face. Erich scraped the tip of his cock all over Jake’s prickly goatee, all the while groaning with building pleasure. Fingers toyed with his nipples, the hair on his chest. Just then Erich let out a sharp cry, and his cock wasted no time in exploding. He watched as white come shot out, drenching Jake’s goatee, dripping down onto his chest.

  “Aw, shit, shit, shit,” Erich said. “Wow, guess you really had me turned on.”

  Jake just nodded, trying his best to hide a smile. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Sorry, hairy chests do that to me.”

  Jake wanted to say the same, but held back. Erich was obviously smoother than a baby.

  “So, you want me to do you?” Erich asked.

  Jake realized that receiving a blow job inside a small bathroom on board an aircraft, 38,000 feet over the Atlantic was the last thing he wanted. It was almost as though Erich’s messy, quick explosion had drained the passion out of Jake. “You know, Erich, it’s okay. That was hot, the way your come warmed my body…uh, I’m glad you found me sexy, and trust me, I’m really grateful that you found and returned my passport. So, why not call us even?”

  “Sure, sure. Hey, Jake?”

  “Yeah.?”

  “Don’t forget to clean up, I sort of came a lot.”

  Erich departed, leaving a regretful Jake to stare hopelessly back at
himself in the mirror. Covered in a stranger’s oozy come, his shirt unbuttoned, his hard cock pressing against his pants. Jake realized the two of them had never even exchanged a kiss.

  So much for romance.

  He had to hope the rest of the trip would be less…uh, messy.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Jake had to get his mind off sex.

  He didn’t see Erich the rest of the flight, nor during deplaning and through passport control. Maybe the guy was ashamed, trying to avoid Jake. Their encounter had been sleazy for sure, unsatisfying for Jake no doubt. But it was over, time to move on. Jake had told himself before this trip began that he was over his phase of flings, he needed to concentrate on something more permanent, like a real relationship. Go figure. Did this mean he was growing up? Maybe. But that didn’t stop him from checking out this cute guy at immigration, another bearded guy on the Heathrow Express to Paddington Station, or the sexy guy on the tube with the nice package. Tube indeed.

  By the time Jake arrived at his flat, his cock was pressing up against his pants and he thought first thing he would do was relieve the pressure that had built up inside his balls. Several times he thought he should have just taken a cab from Heathrow and paid the outrageous fare, a least he would have been settled already, perhaps enjoying his first lager at the local pub up on the High Street. But no, he was only just this moment trudging his suitcases up the stairs to the second floor of the house on the picturesque, tree-lined Deodar Road. The eye candy he’d observed while traveling into London had only increased his desire to get settled.

  He’d taken the Heathrow Express into Paddington Station, which turned out was located nowhere near the quiet neighborhood of Putney—situated on the Southern bank of the river Thames. A cab at that point would have been senseless, since he would have been traveling through the mid-day traffic of Central London. So he hopped the District Line tube, making his way south toward Wimbledon. He got off the train at the aboveground Putney Bridge station and from there his trip had only grown more challenging. Downstairs, through the turnstiles, walking through a narrow mews that on a dark night could seem dangerous, hike up a long, brick-lined staircase to the Putney footbridge, cross the river, go back down the stairs on the other side, walk two blocks to his house. All with luggage. All in surprising 80 degree sunshine.

  But now that he’d unlocked his door and entered his home for the next three months, Jake could breathe a contented sigh of relief. The flat was perfect, just like the pictures he’d seen online—nicely appointed, with casual, accessible furniture. A large bedroom, bath, kitchen were all nice, but it was the living room that represented his favorite part. Oddly, it faced the back of the apartment but when he saw why, he completely understood the landlord’s choice of design. A large bay window overlooked a lush garden below and beyond that was a beautiful view of the Thames itself, so lovely it might well have been a postcard. He could easily make out the metal footbridge he’d just crossed to his left, and right now a northbound train was rumbling its way over the accompanying bridge.

  Jake placed his heavy luggage in the bedroom. He would unpack later. Right now he was thirsty from the long trip and the idea of his first English ale called to him. A quick check of the fridge produced happy results as several oversize cans of Carling Lager stared back at him, along with a note: WELCOME TO LONDON. MAY THE FIRST FEW BE ON US. STEVEN & JENNIE. They were his landlords, and so far they seemed nice. Jake grabbed the can, popped the top and…ah, a perfect, cold first sip. Satisfied, he now needed to be satiated.

  He padded back into the bedroom, where he tossed off his shirt and jeans, followed by his boxers. Dropping to the bed, his fingers wound their way down his chest, brushing at the trail of hair on his belly, finally resting on his growing cock. He stroked it once, twice with one hand while his other grazed against his goatee. He recalled how Erich’s cock had felt bristling against his facial hair, how the fuzzy touch had made him come almost immediately. Jake was feeling the heat swarming all over his body. The room was near stifling, warm from afternoon sun beaming through the windows. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he intensified his stroke. His measured breath became increasingly strained. He teased his nipples, twisted them ever so-slightly, feeling a tingle of pain radiate through his flush body. Erich’s handsome face popped into his mind and he could hear him saying how much he liked Jake’s chest, he preferred his men on the hairier side….just then Jake thought about Nico, the man who had led him down this journey of self-discovery, the way his black-carpeted chest had felt, the way his cock had pierced him that night and the next morning…the slap of his heavy balls against Jake’s tight ass…

  “Oooh, shit…ohhh,” Jake said, his body shuddering with the first wave of orgasm.

  Then his cock jutted, once, twice, shooting a thick load of white come onto his hand. He leaned forward to watch his climax, as drops slid down his shaft, buried in the deep confines of his thick crop of dark pubes. His head crashed back against the pillow, his breath heavy. After a moment he reached for his beer, downing most of it with one huge gulp. The dizzying feel of alcohol coursed through his veins, again warming his body.

  Getting up from the bed, he quickly washed off and then found a pair of gray shorts in his luggage. He made his way back to the living room, opening wide the windows and feeling an instant rush of fresh air break off the river.

  “Well, hello!” he heard a voice from below.

  “Oh, uh, hi,” Jake said, realizing that two people were sitting in the tiny garden. A man and a woman, presumably the aforementioned Steven and Jennie. And indeed, Jake’s guess was right on the money.

  “You must be Jake—a pleasure to meet you,” said the man. Jake estimated he was in his mid-30s, the woman maybe a few years younger. “Steven Pidgeon, this one here is Jennie Barth. Pop on down, join us for a drink.”

  “Uh, thanks. Let me get changed…”

  “You look fine, it’s warm out,” Steven said. “Not every day in London one gets to work on his tan line.”

  Jake shrugged, said he’d be right down.

  He wasn’t self conscious about his body, he knew he worked hard to keep it in shape. Flat stomach, strong biceps and muscled legs all added up to a man who knew that as he got older he needed to keep up his physical activity to maintain his appeal It turned out that Steven and Jennie where also dressed for the unseasonable warmth hovering over London. When Jake arrived in the green garden, he noticed Jennie wore a bikini, her generous breasts swelling beneath the thin material. She was pretty, with blonde streaks amidst her dark roots. A warm, welcoming smile drew him in. Steven had on shorts and a tank top, a slight belly protruding. He had a bald head and a few stray whiskers on his chin. Otherwise, he appeared pretty hairless. Not that Steven was gay, but still it helped that Jake did not find the man to be his type. Last thing he needed was to imagine his landlord visiting him for a quickie at night. No complications, no flings, he reminded himself, shutting out all such sexual thoughts as he shook hands with his new acquaintances.

  “Grab yourself a beer, Jake. We’ll fatten you but good here in jolly London.”

  Jennie waved her boyfriend off. “Don’t listen to him. Nice to see a man who takes care of himself. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on Steven.”

  “Doubt that,” Steven said, “haven’t done me sit-ups in a dozen fortnights.”

  Jennie rolled her eyes. “He’s speaking that way for your benefit. Putting on airs.”

  Jake laughed, drank down some of his beer. “So, did I luck out or what? You guys have a nice set up here. This place is great—I’m really happy with my flat, and with this view of the Thames, guess it’s not so bad being a bit of a distance from Central London.”

  “Ugh, we just hate Central London,” Jennie said with obvious disgust. “Piccadilly Circus, Trafalgar, Leicester Square—the tourists and terrorists can have it. Stevie and I are quite content here in our quiet enclave. Got our favorite pubs up on the High Street—hey, speaking of, a few friends
are gathering a little later for a friend’s birthday. The Railway, just up the road. Meet us why don’t you—unless you have other plans.”

  “No plans—actually, I really don’t know anyone here. Kind of an impulse decision.”

  Steven raised an eyebrow. “How can a summer-long holiday to London be impulsive? Hmm, I think there’s more to the story here. Who are you running from, Jake? Scorned lover, or maybe some thug you owe money?”

  “Ha. Far less dramatic than either scenario. Actually, I’ve come to fall in love.”

  His new friends tossed him a querulous look. “Say that again?” Steven asked.

  Just then Jake felt embarrassed, his skin turning to instant sunburn. “Well, maybe not love…but, you know…meet new people.”

  Jennie popped another beer, handed it to Jake. “You’ll need fortification, then. You’ve got us for starters, and if you join us tonight at the Railway you’ll be sure to meet others. In fact, if love isn’t on the menu, maybe one of our friends will interest you enough to for a little romp in the hay. Kimberly will totally fall for you—she gets one look at your yummy chest, she’ll probably spread ’em right there.” For effect, Jennie reached out and brushed her fingers against the light coating of hair on Jake’s chest. “Ooh, that feels nice, surprisingly soft. Stevie’s as hairy as a Mexican cat.”

  Good thing Jake’s face was already red, Jennie admission might have sent him back inside. “Uh, sorry to say but I think Kimberly’s gonna be disappointed…”

  “Shit. Gay. Right?”

  “Yeah,” Jake said. “That a problem?”

  “Not for us. But tonight at the pub, don’t tell Kimberly. We’ll have a little fun with her. She thinks she can trap anything with her…well…”

  “Beaver,” Steven said with a hearty laugh.

  “Pigs, that’s what men are.”

  Jake smiled. “Only the straight ones.”

  “That leaves off Nevil,” Steven said.