Failed Connections

"But you're also a bow hunter. I saw you at the competitions in Rockville last year. You were robbed. You did really well."

"You follow bow hunting?"

"I do it when I have an opportunity," Terry answered. At that moment there was some unexpected turbulence and Terry, standing in the aisle, swayed a bit—not really enough to think he was going to go down, though. Buddy, at least seemingly, reached out with a hand and steadied the air steward by grasping Terry's hip, letting his hand palm the hollow of the strikingly narrow-hipped young man. Terry gave him a smile. Buddy wasn't all that quick to take his hand away. Neither was Terry all that quick to release his smile. As they held there close together, waiting for the swaying of the airplane to stabilize, Terry turned to where only Buddy could see him and unbuttoned two buttons on his shirt, opening the shirt enough for Buddy to see that the steward was wearing a red bra that matched the panties. As soon as he flashed that, though, he had buttoned up again, winked at Buddy, and went off down the aisle. All of this was possible because it wasn't a full flight. Buddy was alone in the row he'd been moved to.

Near the end of the flight into Detroit, the first leg of Buddy's air trip back to Baltimore that day, Terry went around with his company cellphone, offering to check on connecting flights and departure gates. When he got to Buddy, he said, "Do you have a connecting flight or does your flight end in Detroit tonight?"

It seemed fairly obvious that Terry wanted Buddy to say he was overnighting in Detroit. But Buddy's connection to the Baltimore flight was just an hour away, and he wouldn't have had time to change the flight. He barely had time to make it. So, he gave his connecting flight information to Terry.

"Do you really want to make that flight?" Terry asked, giving Buddy a meaningful look.

"Hate to say that the team will expect me too. Too bad."

"Maybe, maybe not," the steward said. "I don't see that flight. Oh, yes, there it is. It's been canceled. Your layover is now fourteen hours."

"Fourteen hours? How can that be? It was supposed to be only an hour."

"Stick in the airplane when it lands unless I've gotten back to you," Terry said. "I'll check this out with the ground staff and see if there's been some mess up." Terry wasn't acting like he was all that unhappy with the flight cancellation, though, and when Buddy made his way to the front of the plane while the passengers were deplaning, Terry said, "There's a new flight for you. That's why there's a fourteen-hour delay. It's the next flight you'd want to take to get to where you're going. Sit over there. You'll need to go to Delta Help. It's just down between gates 15 and 17. I'll walk you there."

"You don't need to—" Buddy started.

"Hang tight until we have everyone else out. I'll walk you there."

And that's what Terry did when Buddy was the last one off the plane and the other cabin attendants and the pilot and copilot were walking up the gangway.

"That's really helpful of you," Buddy said as they walked toward the Delta help desk.

"They have you scheduled going out a 11:00 in the morning. They had you on a 7:00 flight, but I asked them to change you. A secret there. The 7:00 flight will be crowded with the others who got bumped off tonight's flight. The 11:00 won't be fully booked and they'll upgrade you. I put you in for that."

"Is that the real reason I'm taking the later flight?" Buddy asked.

"Maybe," Terry said, with a smile. "Do you have a need to be back in Baltimore earlier?"

"No, not really. I have off tomorrow," Buddy answered. "But the team buys the air tickets and I'd have to have a very good reason not to make the flights they set up."

"Your flight was canceled. That's a good enough reason. But if you didn't have that reason, would you have another very good reason to do an overnight layover here?" Terry asked.

"I can think of one, yes."

"Good. Maybe great. Here, they'll give you a phone number to call for a hotel. They' pay for the hotel. It might be a fleabag, though. I'll stick here and help you pick one out that has a room as nice as you can get. I fly into Detroit often."

"You'll stick around?"

"Certainly. I don't have anything I need to be doing tonight—well anything other than what would be fun." It registered with Buddy that Terry had said "tonight" and not "now" or "this evening." He gave Terry a knowing smile.

When he came back after consulting at the help desk and before he made a call to see what hotels were available, Terry spoke. "I've been thinking. I have a room booked at the Westin tonight—right here connected to the terminal. You could bunk with me. You'd be right here tomorrow morning to make your flight. Westin has its own TSA point back into the terminal. Staying there would cut a good thirty minutes off the time you'd have to show up. I'd be happy for you to use the room. You could buy me dinner tonight. I know of some out-of-the-way restaurant bars in the terminal."

"Stay at the Westin—in your room?" Buddy gave Terry a slow-burning smile.

"Yes. One room."

"And one bed?"

"There might be two double beds, but we don't have to use them both."

"So, you know from what's on me on the Internet that I'm gay—and a top?"

"Of course I know. I'm counting on it. I also think I know what you like."

"That hair you have pinned up in back—do you ever let it down?" Buddy asked.

"If that's what the man wants," Terry answered.

They talked for over an hour over dinner in a dark bar that served shrimp baskets with its drinks. They had so much to talk about: life as a pro indoor soccer player, their separate days at the University of Maryland, bow hunting, and checking to see if they had any friends in common. Buddy even opened up about having come out while being on a soccer team, the first time he'd ever done so.

"I think you were close friends with a freshman named Archie when you were a senior at Maryland."

"Yes, I was," Buddy said, guardedly. He was, in fact, very close friends with Archie, who indulged Buddy's fetish.

"He's Angela now," Terry said. He went all the way after college.

"I didn't know that," Buddy said. "That's too bad."

"Why too bad?"

"I'm not really into women—going all the way doesn't turn me on."

"That's a relief to hear, because I haven't—"

"I know. We were in the men's room together. I could see what I wanted to see." They both laughed. "So, you're not home based here in Detroit?" Buddy then asked.

"No. I never got away from Atlanta. That's where I call home."

"You serious about me coming up to your hotel room tonight?" Buddy asked, reaching over and stroking the young air steward's forearm. Buddy was only three years older than Terry, but he was built larger, and he'd zeroed in on how narrow Terry's waist and hips were. He couldn't help focusing on his fetish.

"Sure, why not?"

"Well, I see how slim you are. Have you had many men before?"

"Are you asking if I can take a big cock? Are you telling me you have a big cock?"

"Well, yes. But more than that. I have needs. If you've had a lot of men, maybe—"

"You have a big cock, but you want your men to have a tight channel. You want them to suffer a bit in taking you."

"Yes."

"And to be wearing women's lingerie."

"Yes."

"And to let their hair down."

"Well . . . yes. Do you think—?"

"We'll just have to see, won't we? But, yes, when I'm with a man, I want to be filled and taxed. I want to be punished a bit."

"It's late. Maybe they'll throw us out of here," Buddy said.

Terry laughed. "This is an airport. The restaurants here never close. But I get the message. You want to go upstairs in the Westin now and fuck."

"Yes, I want to fuck you," Buddy said. "I think I've wanted to fuck you since I saw you walking toward the departure gate in Denver—and that was before you showed me what you showed me in the men's room."

"It's my room," Terry said. "If you come to my room, I'll control the fuck."

"The state you've got me in, I'll take you any way I can get you," Buddy said. This, in fact, was unusual. Buddy was used to calling the shots, to being in full control.

They went to the air steward's room at the Westin, and Terry controlled the fuck, an entirely new sensation for Buddy. He hadn't slow fucked before. He'd been all go in, fire off, and get out with his sex partners before. He started off as if he was going there again, but Terry, admonishing once more "My room; my rules"; pushed Buddy on his back on the bed, sitting at the edge of the foot of the bed; pulled Buddy's trousers and briefs off his legs; took possession of the man's cock; and relentlessly sucked him off, not letting Buddy loose until he'd come. Terry was just wearing red lace panties and matching bra. He had red heels in his luggage and Buddy said, "That would be very nice," when Terry asked him if he wanted Terry to wear them. And then, while Terry was knelt in front of him, sucking him off, Buddy released Terry's hair and let it fall to his shoulders.

"There, that's better," he whispered.

After Buddy had released his seed, it took him some time to build up an erection again, during which they lay, stretched out beside each other on the bed, Buddy's stroking the hollows of Terry's flanks. They talked and kissed and groped each other until Buddy was ready to roll over on top of Terry and take him hard. Terry made his move first, however, rolling over on top of Buddy, positioning himself in the cowboy position, facing Buddy's head, and taking his time screwing himself down on Buddy's cock, as Buddy grasped the air steward's hips and spread his fingers, shuddering when the tips met. Terry was as tight as Buddy could have wanted him, and, grasping Terry's narrow hips between his hands, Buddy let Terry work at his own speed in raising and lowering himself on the thick, long shaft.

Buddy was overwhelmed and completely taken by Terry. He'd never given up control like this before to a man. He'd never been so open in talking with a man he wanted to screw before. He never been ridden like this before, certainly not to the heights of arousal and passion that Terry took him that night.

As he rode the cock, Terry reached back to unhook his bra, but Buddy said, "No, don't. Leave it on. Reverse on the dick." When Terry moved around to facing Buddy's feet, Buddy wrapped his arms around the steward's sides, ran his hands under the bra so that he was palming the young man's breasts, and thumbed Terry's nipples, while the steward arched his back and rode the cock.

They fucked and rested and then screwed again, each time Terry taking charge. Then they slept. In the dark of the night, Terry woke Buddy up, on top of him again, facing Buddy's feet, screwing his tight channel on Buddy's throbbing, thick cock. They barebacked, and Terry took Buddy's cum deep inside him and spouted out onto Buddy's chest and thighs.

At 6:30 in the morning, the telephone by the bed rang, and, coming abruptly awake, Buddy answered it as soon as he had some idea where he was. It was a hotel wakeup call so that he could make his flight. He hadn't asked for the call. Looking around when he hung the phone up, he discovered that he was alone. Terry wasn't in the bathroom either.

Terry had fucked him and left him. In the back of his mind, there was a glint of recognition that he'd done that to most of his sex partners too, but it was only a hint of recognition. There was no immediate evidence that Terry had been there at all, although at last Buddy found the red lace panties under the bed at the corner. Try as he might Buddy couldn't remember what Terry's last name had been.

Before leaving for his flight, he called Delta but only got the runaround. When he checked out of the Westin, he'd been stuck with the bill for the night. There was no record of a Terry anybody reserving the room. When they'd checked it, Terry had been the one to go to the desk, telling Buddy to stay in the bar so they wouldn't know there would be two of them in the room. Buddy realized that Terry hadn't had a reservation already. The desk clerks showed him who had given a card to hold the room. It had been his own card. Terry somehow had lifted one of Buddy's credit cards and then put it back later.

He went to the Delta help desk between the A15 and A17 departure gates and asked them if they could tell him who had been the stewards on the flight in from Denver the previous evening. They couldn't—or wouldn't—tell him.

He was frantic for a while. Terry was the first guy he'd met that he could have had a serious relationship with—and, physically, he was perfect for Buddy's fetish. He was still a man, but he could dress as a woman and he had the narrowest hips and tightest channel of any man Buddy had fucked.

Back in Baltimore, Buddy couldn't get Terry out of his mind. He increasingly realized that Terry had treated him the same way he'd been treating his sex partners—screw them and leave them—and he vowed that, if only he could find Terry, he'd be more sensitive to the needs of others. His play in Baltimore suffered and he managed to get himself traded to the Atlanta Silverbacks, where, after striking out in finding anyone who'd known of a Terry on the team, he slowly settled in.

He roamed the gay bars and clubs of Atlanta and the Atlanta airport, looking for Terry. He eventually accepted that that had been a failed connection, and while he roamed the gay district, he met young Jack, who had narrow hips, a tight channel, long hair, a pretty face, black silky lingerie, augmented breasts, and who worshipped soccer players. Buddy worked hard—and, eventually, successfully—to ensure that his relationship with Jack wasn't going to be one of those failed connections he'd gone through before—all of them, he now accepted, his fault.

Even the failed connection with Terry had been his fault. After that night in the Detroit airport hotel, one of the reasons he'd been drawn to Terry came back to him—that he reminded him of someone from his past, from when he had gone to the University of Maryland. In their earlier conversation in the airport restaurant, Terry had mentioned his older brother had gone to Maryland and had played sports, but that he'd had a rough life after leaving the university and had wound up broken and homeless and on the streets for a while. It was only when Buddy had time to reflect that he realized that Terry looked like—and probably was the brother of—one of the first young men Buddy had taken up with, another member of the university soccer team, and had dropped abruptly when Buddy had managed to have his way with him. He'd had slim hips and a tight fit as well—and he'd been crushed that Buddy didn't want more than a one-time lay.