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    Rip Skor
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Boy Story: The Road Taken - 32. Ready For Takeoff

Ready For Takeoff

 

Saturday finally arrived and we were going to the airport, flying direct to Orlando, renting a car, and checking in at the hotel. Eventually we’d be hitting all three parks: The Magic Kingdom, EPCOT, and MGM Studios. I was going to enjoy the heck out of this trip because I wouldn’t have to worry about anything. All expenses were covered, everything was top notch, and I was with Parker. I’d just show up, everything had been prearranged and paid for. It would indeed be the trip of a lifetime.

I was extremely nervous because I was hoping I remembered to pack everything I would need, and I wanted to make a good impression. Yes, I was familiar with all of my travel companions, to differing degrees of course, but we’d never all actually traveled together before. One thing I wanted to do before we left the house was to douche myself. The first thing I needed to do was peel myself off of Parker in bed. I slowly untangled our bodies. He just rolled over and took a deep breath and then he was asleep again. I managed to slide out of bed without waking him. Since it was early morning, he’d hopefully stay asleep until I returned.

I made my way to the bathroom as quietly as possible with my douching paraphernalia, which had the appearance of a shaving kit. I took care of business in complete privacy. I’d take a full shower later with Parker to complete the process. I’d always get a little bit of a stomach ache after an anal douche. I guess that’s common because it’s always suggested to wait a few hours before engaging in sexual activity. When done, it keeps things really clean for about 24 hours, and fairly clean afterwards. The one drawback about douching is: you can’t do it too often or it becomes bad for you. I wondered if twice a week was too much because that’s what I had logged in so far this week.

When the process was complete with three rinses, I washed my implements and packed them back up. I also brushed my teeth and mouth to avoid morning breath. I made my way back to Parker’s room and put the kit back in my carry-on bag. Then I thought better of it and put it in my check-in bag. I had a sudden vision of the baggage x-ray person seeing the kit and flagging it for visual inspection. “What have you got in this shaving kit, son?” I certainly wouldn’t need it on the plane, so better for it to ride in the suitcase. I dropped the robe and slid back in bed with Parker. I rewrapped myself around him. This time he made a “Mmmmmmm” sound as I held him to me. I gently kissed around the base of his neck and the parts of the shoulder I could reach.

This must have awakened him because he slowly turned over to face me. We began kissing and he asked, “How did you get so minty first thing in the morning?”

“That’s a trade secret,” I told him.

“I see. I know a few secrets as well,” he replied sliding into me. He began sucking my nipples for what seemed like a pleasant eternity, and it had the usual effect down under (and I don’t mean Australia). I finally said, “You do realize that you’re not going to get any milk out of those puppies, right?”

“Why do I need milk when I know where I can get some cream,” he said with a devilish grin. Then he disappeared beneath the comforter. As was usually the case, he got me off in under 15 minutes. I always seemed to go quicker in the morning, but it might also be that he was becoming better trained with the equipment. I know when I come, I usually come a lot. Guys have no control over volume, but I know from years of masturbation that when I came, it was a bit messy. But with no point of reference, I figured every guy came about the same. Early in our relationship, Parker would often comment that it was a lot. When receiving oral pleasure, volume is not necessarily your friend. But after some trial and error, instead of storing it in his mouth and then swallowing, Parker would just drink it straight from the tap. We both kind of enjoyed that practice.

Once I had finished, I grabbed him and forced him into a new position. I thought it only right to return the favor even if I was no longer horny. I knew that he’d be amenable to having his pipe cleaned, but if I had turned over and fell back to sleep, he would not have been insulted now that he had been fed. However, I loved seeing the look of ecstasy on his face right before he climaxed and knowing that I was the cause. He would get so turned on by sucking me off that it made my task very easy. Over time, I began to enjoy sucking his cock because I had the opportunity to play with his foreskin with my mouth and tongue. Since mine had been clipped just after birth, his model was a bit of a novelty for me, plus the rest of it was impeccable. Sometimes I’d get so lost in the act that the coming at the end was a bit of a surprise. His semen wasn’t strong or distasteful, so it was very easy to dispose of the evidence once I became accustomed to it.

When we were both done and our heart rates had returned to normal, I propped myself up looked at him and asked, “Shower, right?” He laughed and said, “When you start living here, my mom’s gonna shit when she sees the water bill!”

“Yeah, but she’ll have the cleanest boys in town,” I countered.

“And the smell of boy sex in the air,” he added with a laugh.

“Hey, I guess that economics class has come in handy. I foresee a spike in air freshener and scented candle sales,” I joked.

He handed me his robe, and I said, “But what are you going to wear?”

“Sweats!” he said matter of factly. Sweats went on, no underwear.

As we headed down the hall to the bathroom, he suddenly stopped short before the door, and I bumped into him.

“Wait,” he said. “Smell.” He sniffed the air.

I inhaled deeply. “Whoa, bacon!”

“Yeah, breakfast!”

He grabbed me by the arm and I was rerouted to the kitchen where Ginny was busy cooking for a small army.

“Are we expecting company?” Parker asked.

“Just your Aunt. We’re going to eat a big breakfast because we’ll be traveling to the airport at lunch time,” she explained.

She looked up at us with our hair all a mess and said, “Late night, boys?”

“No, rough morning,” he shot back. I held back a laugh. She rolled her eyes.

“Well, you asked...” Parker said smiling.

“Note to self, no more hair comments in the morning,” she mumbled.

As we started eating eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, and coffee, the front door opened and a familiar voice beckoned, “Honey, I’m home!”

“We’re in the kitchen!” Ginny hollered back.

“Auntie Helen!” Parker shouted out as she appeared up the stairs.

“Oh, and here’s the happy couple,” she said as she entered the kitchen looking at us.

“Come here you,” she said grabbing Parker’s upper arm. She bent down and kissed him leaving a red set of lips on his cheek. “Sorry, about that honey. We don’t want people thinking you went straight,” she said wiping his cheek with a napkin.

I snickered.

“And Matthew! I’ll spare you the lipstick stain,” she said patting my shoulders.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said.

“You boys look like you’ve been through a battle royale,” she said noticing the messed up hair.

“Don’t ask!” Ginny informed her.

She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Gee Sis, you cooking for the whole town?”

“Sit down, eat!” Ginny ordered.

Helen sat and began loading her plate. “There’s an extra car in the driveway. Do you have company?”

“No, that’s Matt’s car. He’ll be living here for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s right. Hey, is it OK that I’m parked behind you both, Gin?”

“I think you’re safe. No one’s going anywhere for a week,” she reminded her.

She turned her attention, “So are you boys excited?”

Parker said, “Oh yeah, it’ll be great!” I just shook my head vigorously in the affirmative.

“And you’ll be going on your first plane flight, too!” she said looking at Parker.

“Second actually,” he corrected her. “My family flew to DC back when I was in like…4th grade.”

“Oh right, I remember that,” Helen recalled.

“Yeah, I’m not afraid to fly or anything. I just haven’t had many opportunities.”

“Didn’t you go to Disney once before when you were younger?” I asked remembering an earlier story.

“Yeah, the summer before 6th grade, we drove down in our old station wagon...Mom, me, Nick and Dad. Remember that, Mom?”

“How could I forget? It was the middle of July and hot as Hades. And with your father behind the wheel, we were taking our lives into our own hands,” Ginny elaborated.

“Ah, the good old days,” Helen added.

Our flight departure time was at 2:40 p.m. and a mini van pulled up to the house at noon and drove us to the airport. I had to laugh because before the ride to the airport, Parker had three cups of coffee. Thirty minutes later, it was like he was shot out of a cannon.

When we arrived at the airport, we checked in and received our gate assignment. We went to the departure gate and knew we’d have a bit of a wait. As we arranged ourselves in the seating area, I watched Parker with great fascination. He had taken up position directly across from me in one of those uncomfortable vinyl seats. He removed his shoes, took a stack of magazines out of his carry-on bag, put on headphones, and hooked up his Discman (this was years before the iPod had been invented). He was sitting there right leg rapidly bouncing, flipping through the magazines, and singing to his CDs. He was sure he was singing quiet enough not to be heard, when in fact, it was just loud enough for everyone to hear.

I’d never heard him sing before, but it turned out that he had a pretty good, if higher register, singing voice. I looked around the gate area and some other people were eavesdropping and enjoying the entertainment. Parker was in his own little world, leg bouncing, singing, head bobbing, and high on caffeine. It was very cute…at least I thought so.

Ginny leaned over and put a $20 bill in my hand and asked me if I could take him shopping or something at the terminal because he couldn’t sit still and was driving her crazy.
I said, “Oh c’mon, he’s really good!”

She made a praying motion with her hands and quietly mouthed “PLEASE?”

I laughed and mouthed back “OK.”

I leaned over and tapped him on the knee. He took the headphones off and said, “What’s up?” his blue eyes wide and shining at me. “You wanna get an ice cream? My treat,” I said trying to entice him.

“Can I go in my socks?” he asked lifting his legs to reveal his shoes were off.

“You can go in your socks, if you want. But walking around here they’re gonna get dirty and then you won't be able to wear them later,” I explained.

“Oh yeah, good call. OK, ice cream—I’m in,” he said leaning over to put his shoes on. I looked over at Ginny and she was smiling and gave me the head nod of approval for successfully having navigated through that one.

As we walked to the ice cream place, Parker’s blond hair was cutely tousled, he was wearing beige cargo shorts, a grey hoodie, a white concert T-shirt which had shrunk after several washings so it was almost tight, some blue low top Adidas, and low cut socks. He looked really cute. I wanted to grab him and hug him, but I resisted.

We both got hot fudge sundaes and we sat at a table in the little food court. “Hmm, I wonder how these sundaes would taste if we replaced the whipped cream with man cream,” he joked.

“Well, it certainly wouldn’t be as fluffy,” I offered. “It would probably taste a bit saltier, too.”

“Yeah, imagine… they’d have a guy out back who is hired to top the sundaes,” he continued.

“There’s an idea. You could work this summer as a sundae topper. I might even buy one of yours,” I added.

“Hmm, I never thought of selling my spunk as a food additive.”

“Better yet, you could sell your spunk to the sperm bank. I hear they pay like $45 per donation,” I informed him.

“Ha, ha. A sperm bank? Is there such a thing?” he asked.

“Yeah. It’s like where a woman goes for artificial insemination to have a baby without a partner or if her husband’s sperm is no good or like if two lesbians want to get pregnant. They have hundreds of guys’ donations to choose from. ”

“Donations?”

“Yeah, they pay guys to swing by and leave a little something behind,” I informed him.

“But how…”

“A private room, a TV with porn playing, and a petri dish.”

“And they give the guys $45? They must have a line going around the block!” Parker imagined.

“From what I hear, the staff who run the clinic are extremely particular about who gets to donate. You have to have super mobile sperm to make the cut,” I informed him.
“But I bet you'd be a good candidate.”

“Too weird. There could be dozens of my children walking the earth. I think I’ll stick with the dessert topping idea,” he decided.

“Aw c’mon. I would welcome having more little cute blond boys walking around town,” I encouraged.

“Yeah, my own Hitler youth!” he whispered. I burst out laughing.

“And when I get too old, you’d probably dump me for one of them younger ones!” he pretended to be offended.

“Now, THAT would be too weird!”

“Why don’t you donate? You always come like gallons. You’re probably way fertile. I’d even come and help you with the donation process,” he giggled.

“I dunno, that’s not really my thing. The inconvenience is not really worth the money,” I determined.

“Hah, all the more donations for me! Ha ha ha!”

“Alright, time to go, funny boy!”

We walked around a bit and stopped at a magazine stand to buy some gum to chew on the plane. I looked at my watch and saw it was time to head back to the gate area. Not long after we returned, they began the boarding process. The plane we were traveling on had two seats on one side of the main aisle and three seats on the other side. I thought that was odd. Wouldn’t that make the plane heavier on one side? I figured someone much smarter than me had worked that one out long ago. Parker and I were in a two seat row with Ginny and Helen sitting right behind us. I let Parker have the window seat because the scenery below should provide him some degree of entertainment.

The pilot pulled the plane out onto the runway and he announced for everyone to prepare for takeoff. The engines began to roar and Parker took hold of my left hand with his right. I turned to him and said, “Well, here we go!” The plane sped down the runway, he gripped my hand tighter, and the next thing we knew, we were up in the air heading south.

He spent the first hour or so glued to the window observing what the earth looked like from above, occasionally summoning me to look at something. I remembered the first time I flew by plane. Everything below was quite a spectacle: cars, roads, houses, swimming pools, ball fields, schools, you see it all.

“Hmm, I know we’re flying at like 500 mph, but it doesn’t feel like it,” he declared. “It’s like watching a movie through a porthole.” The flight attendant came around with drinks and I ordered us both a ginger ale because someone needed to curtail his caffeine intake. These were also the days you’d get a little meal on most domestic flights. It was a paper lunch bag with a chicken salad sandwich on a roll and came with a tiny garden salad…simple, yet still quite palatable.

After the meal service was over and the caffeine rush had petered out, Parker crashed. He fell sound asleep with his head against my left shoulder. The flight attendant came by with more drinks, but I waved her off. She was obviously touched at the sight of the cute blond boy asleep on my shoulder and offered me a little airline pillow. She probably figured he was my younger brother. Although I couldn’t see an immediate need for it, I took the pillow anyway.

Eventually, I tipped my head to the left so the side of my head was propped up against the top of his head. It didn’t take long for me to doze off. There was something about being with Parker that always made me sleep well. Of course, we were usually going to sleep after some lively exertion, but not always. This was one of those other times. I guess it was a feeling of loving and being loved…contentment…that allowed me to sleep so well.

We were roused by the captain’s voice over the intercom that we were on final approach and to prepare for landing. Parker looked at me with his sleepy face, “We’re here already?” I just smiled at him. He smiled back, inhaled deeply, and slowly exhaled as he took my hand in his again. It was such a sweet and genuine gesture that I didn’t flinch.

It seemed like forever before we got off the plane, but once we did, we were off to collect our checked-in bags at the belt. When we were in unison, it seemed like we had a lot of luggage—and we did. Rather than transport all of the luggage to the car rental place, the women decided to rent a car and pull around to pick us up. Parker and I sat in front of the terminal with all the bags waiting for our ride. Ginny and Helen showed up with a Jeep Grand Cherokee, big enough to carry everyone and everything to our next stop—the hotel.

According to the Disney literature, “Located near Magic Kingdom park, Disney's Grand Floridian Resort & Spa is a Victorian-style Disney Deluxe Resort hotel at Walt Disney World Resort.” Well, they certainly like saying Disney a lot. The hotel was designed to put some turn of the century elegance on display within the Disney domain, and I can’t imagine what it cost for us to stay there. We all got our room assignments and we were a few doors down the hall from one another. Parker and I had one king bed and the girls, as we called them, had two queen beds. We surveyed our room which, as you can imagine from Disney, was nicely appointed.

“Wow, look at the size of that bed!” Parker noticed.

“Yeah, looks like we could play football on it,” I added.

“Oh, I was hoping for something requiring a little more flexibility,” he said as he slowly bent over and grabbed his ankles.

“Oh, wow. Could you do that again and turn a little more this way?” I asked.

“Sorry, a magician never does the same trick twice,” he replied.

I couldn’t argue that. He was a true magician, just not in the classic sense.

We walked out on our private balcony, which had a view of the side lawn, some palm trees, and a bit of the lake. We stood there holding onto the railing looking out and saying, “Wow!” repeatedly. After a few minutes, we went back inside to finish our room tour.

“Hey, Matt, look at this!” Parker said from the impressive bathroom.

And there it was—a large size bath tub…and that was in addition to a separate shower.

“Wow that’s an awfully big tub,” he decided.

“Maybe they are expecting two bodies per bath,” I thought out loud.

He turned to me and said, “Guess what?”

“Uh, we’re going to make use of that, perhaps?”

“We want to get our money’s worth, right?” he continued.

“Well, right now we just have to get ready for dinner,” I reminded him.

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© 2014 Rip Skor
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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