Back in the mid `80s when I was a senior in High School I lived thirty miles north of a small town in northeastern Montana. This is not the Montana you picture in your mind, with mountains and pine forests and trout streams meandering through meadows. This part of Montana is flat and dry, with wheat fields as far as the eye can see. It is known as the "high line," where highway 2 and the Burlington Northern railway tracks parallel each other, stretching mile after lonely mile off into the distance. The towns here are few and far between, but even my small town had an airport with one daily flight on a small turboprop shuttling back and forth to Billings, a couple hundred miles to the southwest.
The Frontier Airlines pilot used to stay at the Homestead Inn, where I worked as a night clerk on weekends from midnight to eight. I would stay in town on Friday nights, and hang out with my friends before going to the hotel for my shift. Hardly anyone ever checked in that late at night. Often I didn't see anyone until they started checking out the next morning. I would see the pilot briefly as he left his key and walked out the door.
One morning a new pilot caught my eye. He was tall and blonde, and handsome as hell. He had sparking blue eyes, a square jaw, and a little cleft in his chin. I was immediately smitten, but in northeast Montana in the `80s you had to play it cool. He would smile at me with his blue eyes and that dimple as he handed me his key, and then wave as he said "see you next week."
One morning he came down to the lobby a bit early, wanting some coffee. The stale coffee sitting there had been out all night, so we started chatting as I brewed him a fresh pot. I found out that his name was Steve, and that this job for Frontier Airlines was his first job after leaving the Air Force. He hoped to become a pilot for a bigger airline someday, but this was a good place to start. I told him a little about myself too: that I liked having all that time at work where I could study and read, and that after work I drove home to the farm 30 miles to the north and slept all day after my shift was over.
The next night the front desk phone rang at about 1:00 in the morning. It was Steve, requesting some fresh towels, as he wanted to have some dry ones in the morning. I got them from the laundry room, and took them up and knocked on his door. He answered the door wearing only a pair of blue boxers, and he waved me inside asking me to put them in the bathroom for him. As I turned around, it was all I could do not to leer at him. He was beautiful: broad shoulders, well defined pecs covered in golden blond hair which continued down in a treasure trail across his flat stomach leading to his crotch, which I forced myself not to stare at. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" I asked. "Well," he replied, "I have this itch on my back that I can't reach. Can you scratch it for me?" He turned his back toward me and I started scratching. He directed me to the itchy spot, and I was thrilled to get to touch him. I didn't want to stop, so I scratched the itch and slowly changed my scratching to massaging his broad shoulders.
"God that feels good," said Steve. "I think that is just what I need to get back to sleep. I've had trouble sleeping lately." This was an opportunity too good to be true. "Lay on the bed, and I'll give you a real massage" I replied. So he went to the bed and lay face down, and I followed and straddled his boxer covered butt with my knees as I started working on his shoulders and back.
I had no idea at the time how strong I was. I was not an athlete, I had no interest in sports but years of farm work had toned and refined my muscles and I was really quite a stud. I can see this now looking back at photos, but then I thought I was nothing special. My strong hands were really good at massage though, and Steve groaned in pleasure as I worked out his knots. I slowly worked down his back, and moved to his legs not daring to touch his ass. By this time I had a major hardon in my jeans and I was leaking precum. I looked down and saw a spot beginning to show in my jeans. I worked down his thighs to his calves and feet, before moving back up to his thighs where I could get a really good view of his tight ass. Finally I asked him to turn over. He hesitated a bit, but finally turned and as he did I noticed that he was hard as well. His hardon was stretching the fabric of his blue boxers, and though the fly I could just get a glimpse of his pubic hair. It may have been my imagination, but it seemed like it was just a bit darker than the hair on his chest.
I straddled him again, and as I massaged his shoulders I could feel his hard cock beneath me. I concentrated on his biceps and arms, before slowly moving down his chest. Grazing his nipples with my thumbs as I ran my hands through the golden hair on his pecs, I could feel his cock strain against me. As I gently massaged his flat belly I let my thumbs slip under his waistband just a little. Then it was down to his thighs, where I had a good view of his cock straining against the thin fabric of his boxers. Each time I ran my hands up his thighs I let my fingers slip under the shorts, and I would see his cock twitch a bit. "Go ahead... touch it" he said, so I reached a few fingers up under the fabric and just grazed it with my fingertips. His cock gave a lurch, and the tip sprung out of the fly. For a while I kept my hands underneath his shorts, feeling his balls and the root of his cock while watching as a bead of precum formed at the tip of his dick.
As I gently spread the natural lube around his clock head, his whole body gave a shudder and he groaned with pleasure. This was the first time I had seen an adult with a hardon, let alone had the chance to touch one. His penis was not especially big, either in length nor girth, but it was beautiful. It was maybe six inches long with a vein running along the left side, that branched out and disappeared below the pink helmet shaped head. I traced the vein first with my finger, then my tongue before I took him into my mouth to give my first blowjob. I had read that you were not supposed to use teeth, so I covered them up with my lips and used my tongue to caress his cock. He was gently running his hand through my hair and moaning softly. Every once in a while, when I licked his frenulum he gave a shudder.
By this time I really wanted to see all of him in his naked glory, so I sat back for a moment and pulled down his tight blue boxers. I licked his soft ball sack for a bit, then slowly moved back up the shaft and licked the tip like a lollipop while jerking the shaft of his cock. "Oh my God," he groaned, and he held my head and pistoned his cock into my mouth as he shot jet after jet of come. I had tasted my own come before, but now I didn't know what to do. Some of it I must have swallowed, but some dripped out of my mouth onto the side of his cock. I just lay there with my head on his thigh and his softening cock in my mouth. I had been so excited that I had shot my own load into my jeans.
After a while I got up and went into the bathroom to get a hand towel to clean him up with. He was lying back with his hands behind his head and a satisfied look on his face. "Are you OK?" He asked me. "Yes I am," I said, "I came when you did." By now I was feeling a bit guilty about leaving the front desk unattended for so long, so I covered him up and shut out the lights as I closed his door. "Thanks, I hope we can do this again" was the last thing I heard from him as I went down to the office bathroom to rub out another load.