No one inspired great stories in me though, apart from the gentle wondering. I figured my mind was just too tired from work to grasp on to anyone like...normal.My sleepy mind turned instead to the man I sat by on the plane last week. I’d been weaving a story about him that twisted and turned in my brain from the moment he sat by me. His careful, upper crust accent, his slightly wrinkled business attire, his frequent calls before we even took off, and his preppy looks made it all too easy to. I laid there with my head on Martin’s chest and his thick cock in my hand.I slowly stroked it feeling it getting harder and thicker. I raised my head to look down at my hand. I could see that his cock was not only getting thicker but it was getting longer. I started masturbating at a young age so I knew what I was doing and the effect it was having on Martin. I understood how good it felt to stroke my cock so I could tell by the way Martin would squirm and his breathing, his breathing becoming. More

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