From news.csd.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-fw-12.sprintlink.net!laslo.netnet.net!en.com!in-news.erinet.com!imci5!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!netnews.worldnet.att.net!ix.netcom.com!news Thu Jun 27 21:06:09 1996 Path: news.csd.net!news.sprintlink.net!news-fw-12.sprintlink.net!laslo.netnet.net!en.com!in-news.erinet.com!imci5!imci4!newsfeed.internetmci.com!in2.uu.net!netnews.worldnet.att.net!ix.netcom.com!news Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay Organization: Netcom Lines: 92 Message-ID: 31C83C47.4EAC@ix.netcom.com NNTP-Posting-Host: lvx-nv15-23.ix.netcom.com Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-NETCOM-Date: Wed Jun 19 10:44:35 AM PDT 1996 X-Mailer: Mozilla 2.01 (Win95; I; 16bit) Content-Disposition: inline; filename="AIRPORT.TXT"
CRUISING O'HARE
Damn! Here I was in the hottest sex center of the Midwest, Chicago, and the chances of my getting laid were nil. I was at the O'Hare Hilton, which had a subway direct to the the Loop, where I could catch another subway or a cab to the hot bars uptown. My boss said she didn't need the Camaro we had rented so I was welcome to take that down to the city if I wanted, too. But the unseasonable arctic air had already brought the temperature down to 10 degrees, and the forcast was for 10 below with a 34 degree wind chill factor. Not even the hardy Chicago men would come out in that weather on a Tuesday night. Only a week before Christmas I was going to miss the good will toward men that I wanted to experience.
Of course, here I was the the modern world equivalent of a Greyhound bus station, and it ought to be full of sailors and soldiers on their way home for the holidays. With that though in mind I set out for an intensive cruise of O'Hare Airport's three terminals and waiting rooms. I start in United Airline's terminal 2 since it was adjacent to the Hilton. There were a few fat, balding business men lounging in the comfortable leatherette lounge chairs. I dropped into the Elson's gift shop and checked out the coffee mugs. There was also a cute inflatable Space Shuttle, but no cute sailors were shopping here. I meandered to terminal three, which was equally empty. At the end of the row of seats I found another Elson's and bought a souvenir mug and t he space shuttle.
Terminal 4 is the international terminal, difficult to get to from the two domestic terminals. As I walked along I speculated how much better modern domestic air travel must be, since there were few people, handsome or otherwise, stranded in the airport. But I also knew that there were far fewer international flights out of Chicago, so my hopes rose.
The international terminal was quite a surprise. Instead of the high windows and central pier of ticket stands, I found a low, dimly lit, grey and black tiled area with quiet alcoves full of comfortable chairs, assembly areas at the customs exits, and a small ticketing area. In the second waiting area I saw a tall, straw haired blond slouched into one of the chairs, eyes closed, tossing restlessly. There were several others, but nothing to match this. But how to wake him up without making him too mad to be receptive to the offer of a nice hotel bed, but not to sleep in. Pondering this problem, I dropped into one of the bars and was charged $3.00 for a rum and soda.
Returning to the waiting area, I dropped into the chair across from the gorgeous blond and watched his restless sleep. His eyes blinked and then stay open as he spied my motorcycle jacket over the thermal undershirt. The hiking boots with wool socks also seemed to attract his attention.
"Hi," I said. "Hello,"he answered.
"That looks uncomfortable. If you're waiting for the SAS flight to Copenhagen it's not until 1700 tomorrow."
"Well," he said, "I am waiting for that flight, but I've run out of money and I can't afford a hotel room."... (unnecessary detail left out here). As soon as we entered the room, I reached up to his strong but slender shoulders and started to massage them. He groaned in pleasure and sat down heavily on the bed. The classical music station was still playing obscure Beethoven pieces in celebration of Ludwig's 115th birthday; the music seemed to set the mood. As I worked my small but busy hands down under his loose white shirt, I discovered that his firm, cut chest was smooth except for a fin blond fuzz. Working alternate hands at massage and unbuttoning, I soon had Ole out of his shirt and his 501's were down around his knees. Removing my jacket and shirt, I started working my mouth down toward and past his left nipple. Proceeding farther, I buried my face in his moist, manly scented pubic hairs. His erect dick rubbed my cheek and I quickly took as much as I could of the thick, uncut 8 inch rod into my mouth. Since my fly was now near his head, he undid my 501's and worked my smaller but equally firm pole out. He took it all the way down his throat, and I groaned in pleasure.
"This is all very nice," I said, "but it's better if we get these pants all the way off."
Moving swiftly in agreement we were soon in the king size bed, with me on top rubbing my hairy chest against his sensitive nipples. I worked my way down his chest again, smelling his man smell deep down. As I licked the warm skin next to his balls, he drew his legs up and back, exposing his small, puckered asshole. Never one to question good fortune, I grabbed at the night table for the tube of Albolene and the rubber that I had placed there shortly after I moved in. Covering my left index finger with the lube, I slowly worked my finger into the warm, tight space. Then the middle finger. As I started to work the ring finger in as well he squirmed and squeaked in protest. "Why don't you fuck me now?" he asked. Quickly putting on the rubber I lubed up and pushed in. Starting face to face, I soon had him on his side where I could penetrate deeper. After minutes of intense pleasure, Ole rolled over and started thrusting back eagerly. As I neared climax, I got him up to his knees and started jerking him off. He shortly came, and as I pulled out and ripped off the rubber I started cummng all over his back. He turned over and kissed me deeply. I fell asleep in his long, strong arms. When we awoke the next morning, I volunteered to advance him at least enough money for his meals for the day. When he refused that I took him downstairs and treated him to coffee and a roll before rushing off to meet the boss and get off to business.
Maybe I'll get to the Chicago bars next time. Then again, maybe I'll cruise O'Hare.