Over the singed smell of hot metal, the air was thick with the aromas and sounds of crowded humanity. Waylon shed his flight suit, and left his lightweight dress jacket in the cabin, but his shirt was soon damp with sweat anyway.A group of airport officials were on hand to greet the aircraft. They were accompanied by a party of armed guards. Waylon silently identified the various types of weapons being openly displayed. The guards were expected, they were supposed be extra security arranged by the diamond consortium he was meeting with. They took up position around the aircraft, at a respectful distance, and waited. Waylon relaxed, so far so good.The flight crew's documents were examined and he was welcomed to India. His airport fees had been paid electronically and the airport officials were courteous. They could barely tear their eyes away from the aircraft. Waylon retrieved a silver case from the cabin and had a few words with the android."If I'm detained, get this aircraft off. He thought to himself, “Can’t he tell that I’m a bottom whose only use and purpose is to serve and please?” Flex was fucking with the entire fabric of the universe. Ernesto was in the closet and he was sub to Black men, meaning he got his pleasure, alone, in the solitude of his bed in shame and in silence, long after the sexual experience was over, reliving it in his mind, jerking off to how he had pleased his lover, how he had been the perfect bottom, never expecting any pleasure in return whatsoever. Flex couldn’t hear any of that internal dialogue; all he was doing was focusing on tasting Ernesto’s dripping precum and returning the sensual favor. The roles had changed again, this time with Ernesto trying to change the direction of things. He was able to pull away and this time he lay back on the bed and spread his legs, holding them up and pleading with his new lover to be fucked. “Ram that big dick in my pussy, fuck me hard. FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF ME. Come on, daddy, I.
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