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Barely visible in the small space under the wing stub that I’d just walked on was a man — or at least the body of a man. It didn’t take me long to get back to him, crawling into the tiny space under the wing. I wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive until I gently reached for his neck to check for a pulse. As soon as I slipped my hand under the fur around his leather flight jacket, his eyes fluttered open. ‘You found me…’ his voice cracked, barely audible but distinct, a vaguely southern accent immediately recognizable. ‘How are you doing?’ I asked, not quite sure where to start in helping him. ‘Water,’ he whispered, which I more deciphered from watching his lips than actually heard. ‘Hold on, I’ll be right back.’ Crawling back out from under the wing, this time I went around the front, and returned with my entire backpack. Pulling my aluminum water bottle out I started back, but then stopped and returned to fish more ibuprofen out first. Returning to the pilot, I knelt beside him,. I am not sure what I was hoping for, but I was too shy to take a first step and ask him out.Sometime next year I learned that Max moved to study art in France. I am quite a traveler so every month or two I spend one weekend in another other European city. Most of the time these trips are alone as my friends can’t keep up financially with my tempo, and well, I don’t have that much friends either.Then, next Spring there was my time to visit Paris. It was more of a spontaneous trip, as I found a nice deal for the flight tickets only a week before. Due to some other assignments at work I didn’t have the time to come up with a plan to see anything there.I left the office a little earlier on Friday and rushed to the airport. Everything went smoothly and just before 10 pm I arrived at the hotel. I checked in, made myself comfortable and went downstairs to chill in the hotel bar and make my usual routine through the social media.I don’t do this very often, but eventually posted to my story.
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She told me she was attracted to his swimmer’s build with his broad shoulders, smooth lean muscular torso, and long arms and legs, so unlike Japanese men. His longish, thick, light brown hair was always falling into his teen-idol handsome face, she said. He was the kind of teenager that looked liked he had never even had a pimple. She could tell he was often in one stage of an erection or another in his surfer trunks. Their first kiss was when nobody was around the Jacuzzi. Another time was when they had the pool to themselves. Soon, Keiko began going up to a condo he shared with a man old enough to be his father but who he identified as his boss. Sometimes another boy the same age as Jason lived there as well. She asked him if he was gay and he laughed just saying they all worked together and left it at that. One evening they made out in his bedroom and it got as far as him removing his shorts revealing a huge mound of pubic hair surrounding, as she put it, 'the most beautiful cock.

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