1. OSCAR

There really wasn't much to being a flight attendant. I already had the being so fucking hot you make both men and women want to drop their pants and bend over for you kind of looks going for me. I bet even the pilot would be down to go a couple rounds in the small restroom near the cockpit, but I couldn't be sure he'd be able to sit down afterwards. It was a public service I didn't fuck him, actually.

My ego was big, and rightfully. I had several viral posts on social media just from my looks. One guy made a video of me closing the overhead bins and it clocked millions of views. I stayed away from social media though. I knew if I went there, I'd get hooked on it like a drug. People getting egos stroked all day, every day. Yeah, I didn't have the capacity to turn that down once it started.

Standing up front behind the business class partition with Dorinda, one of the regular cabin crew I fly with. She was my favorite, her family were from Colombia, and I didn't know what they put in the water there, but it made everyone so attractive.

"I'm looking forward to my first weekend off in a month," she said. "I've been picking up all these flights trying to save for that damn deposit. And you know, Zach isn't putting in any extra hours at his daddy's firm."

My ears perked. "Daddy, I don't usually hear that until—" We were cut off by a bell going off for assistance.

"I'll let you get this one," she said. "I heard the girl in seat 3A talking about you."

I winced, almost in pain. "We should get tips, right. At least then I could pretend to be straight for the money."

"You could be a go-go dancer," she joked. "Or start one of those member sites. You saw those comments."

It was a joke, but I'd thought real long and hard about both of those options. I was sexpositive, so that wasn't my issue, in fact, I was probably too sexpositive, while always testing negative. "I don't wanna be tied down." That was it. The reason. I didn't want my name tying me around to multiple different websites. I didn't want anyone to know me. I liked being brand new to every person I met. I liked giving people attention and a story to tell.

The girl in 3A was a woman in her forties at a good guess. I liked working first and business class when possible, there were fewer seats, but you had to be attentive to every single one of their needs, and that wasn't a problem for me, I liked to be on my feet for as many hours as possible. Walking was incredible cardio.

This flight was on its way back from Mexico City all the way to JFK. I was also looking forward to a weekend, but that was because I'd recently found out a friend was back in the city. Jennifer, she'd just graduated dental school, and had offered me a free teeth cleaning.

I lived with my friend in the city, Sam, he was a bartender who'd recently found a boyfriend so it was a good choice that I wasn't home as often as he was. We'd been friends for years. He'd tried hooking up with me, but we didn't mesh well at all. I didn't like sassy bottoms, and he really just needed a place to stay for the night. That was four years ago or something.

From the airport to the apartment, I almost fell asleep in the cab. I loved New York, it was always going at a pace of a million miles an hour, but stand still long enough, and everything was background noise and of course, someone would walk into you and push you out of the way. It was best not to do that.

Music was on in the apartment.

"Sam," I called out, wheeling my small carry-on suitcase behind me. "Sam!"

The music had been covering up the sound of heavy moans and the thwack of a bed against the wall.

I snickered. "Get some," I encouraged, giving the door a single fist pound. "Fuck him real good."

There was no place as special as your own bathroom. I threw my luggage into my bedroom and started stripping off to shower. My feet were blistered from the dress shoes I forced them into. I ran myself a bath, pouring in salts and liquids to make bubbles. I had three days off until I was set to board a flight to Paris, France on the Monday. I was definitely going to make the most of my time off.

With the bath running, I got completely naked and sat in it, letting bubbles foam up around me and the steam to fill the air. Except for the drum of music outside, this was bliss. "We'll go to the gym tomorrow," I told myself, leaning forward to turn the faucets off. "Something cardio intense." I spoke to myself a lot. I was the only person who ever made much sense in my life, so why wouldn't I speak to myself. "Well, there was that twink in Mexico, he was pretty cardio intense. Maybe we can work our thighs."

Just as I grabbed my cock, recalling all the twinks of past, a knock came at the bathroom door. "Go away," I shouted.

"Oscar," Sam's voice called out. "Oh my god. I knew that was you. Please, I—"

"You're not dumping your load in here, I'm having a bath."

"Please, just get out, one-minute, fine, two-minutes max!"

I'd barely given myself chance to relax, so he'd caught me feeling generous. "You can come in, I'll close the curtain, and plug my ears." Half-generous.

Sam wasted no time opening the door. It wasn't like neither of us had seen the other naked before. But we were basically numb to any idea of sex with the other. It just wasn't on our radars.

Plugging my ears with my wet fingers seemed to do the job. Sam pulled back the curtain, speaking at me. "What?" I asked, leaning back in the tub finally able to listen again.

"I said, you should've texted that you were coming back," he went on, a hand at his cock, covering it up with a hand. "I would've gone to Zander's place."

"Zander's the boyfriend, right?"

"You wanna meet him?"

"I'm trying to relax. Please, I'll meet him later. Is he good to you?"

Sam scoffed. "Of course. Have you met anyone?"

"No, I'm not around anywhere long enough to meet anyone," I said, scooping bubbles and throwing them at him.

"Sounds like a you issue," he laughed, running off.

"Close the door behind you," I shouted.

Being single didn't bother me. Relationships, like social media were strings that tied you down. I was more interested in doing the tying, unfortunately, ropes of any kinds weren't really permitted in my carry-on luggage.

Back to thoughts of those twinks half my size, I grabbed my cock and gave it a couple tired tugs before I found myself drifting off into a little bath nap. At first it was nice, like being inside a warm hugged and then waking, it was cold, and my skin had pruned. But I'd soaked myself with the muscle relaxing salts, and I was ready for bed.

Bed was a special place too, the only place I could sleep at night properly. It might've not have been ideal that a lot of the nights I was in hotels and places I could only catch a couple hours at a time, so home was where I got as much rest as possible. It was rarely used for sex, but that wasn't to say I wouldn't bring a guy home if I met him on a nice, long weekend like this one.

That morning, my body woke me just before six. It was perfect time to start the day with a work out. I threw on some shorts and a baggy hoodie with my sneakers, they were strictly for gym use. It felt like I'd never left, putting my headphones in, listening to some hype pre-work out music with a fast BPM. It helped that I mixed both a pre-workout shake and a post-work out smoothie and into my gym bag they went.

The gym was only a couple blocks away from the apartment. It opened early and closed late, it was perfect, and the only time it ever really got busy was at lunch or in the evening, both times when people were clocking off work.

The gym was mostly empty, except for a couple people working, and others determined to run a 5k before eight. I was in the zone, lifting weights, squatting, and really feeling the burn in my legs and thighs. It was a good burn.

A tap came on my shoulder.

I dropped the weights on the spot.

Looking behind, a scrawny guy stood, blinking his doe eyes at me. He was mouthing something my music obscured.

"Sorry," I said, pulling out my earphones. "Did you need to get something?"

He smiled his thick, full lips at me. "I was gonna ask if you could spot me," he said. "You look—well, muscular, and I have a trainer, but he's not in today. He said I should work on benching, and—" he sucked in a deep breath, his chest protruding with the swell of all that air. "I didn't mean to like inconvenience you, I just have work in an hour and I'd love to get a couple reps in."

I'd almost missed every word he said. He was a twink, and if he tried benching and building up his arms and shoulders, he'd turn quickly into a twunk, and that would be a disservice to his body. "What are you on? The lowest weights?"

He nodded. "You'll help me?"

Looking him up and down, he looked almost suffocated in his T-shirt and there had to have been a tight knot keeping those basketball shorts from falling. Size differences like this were such a turn on. "What are your goals with it?"

"Um, I—"

"Sure, I'll help."

He smiled again. "Perfect, thank you. I just have like a checklist in my head of all the things I've got to do and if I get them all, I get like a little sticker." He screwed his lip together and looked to his feet. "That sounds lame."

"We all love a little sticker," I told him. "So, where are you set up? And are squats on your list?" I looked at his calves, but couldn't really get a read on his thighs. I shouldn't have been looking at his an object, but he'd approached me. "You know, the legs do a lot of work."

"Yeah. Today isn't a leg day though, just chest and arms."

"What's your end goal?" I asked.

"Put on muscle, but not—too much," he looked at me this time, his gaze, examining me. I liked it. "I want to be able to throw a punch, not like I've ever needed to, but just in case. My mom's been worried about me since I moved here a couple years back, and then someone in my apartment building got burgled, and it was like on the news, which she saw, and I figured I'd try and work out."

I admired that choice. He wasn't doing it for vanity, he was trying to be practical with his goals. I supposed that's where we differed. "I'll spot you," I said. "You have the weights already picked out."

He nodded. "Oh. I'm Spence, by the way. Spencer, technically, but like that extra letter is a whole extra syllable, so I dropped it back in sixth grade or something."

"I'm Oscar," I said, holding out my hand to him. He seemed hesitant to shake it, but then he did. Touching his warm uncalloused hand was nice, I didn't bear too much weight in the shake, but he shook it, our palms becoming a little sweaty. "What do you do for work?"

Spence pulled his hand from mine. "I'm a translator, I do like legal documents for a law firm. I mostly work from home now since they did some downsizing and couldn't afford the office space." He was a talker, an over explainer. It only drew me into him with curiosity and questions. "Spanish," he added. "My mom is from Argentina, Rosa, and my dad is from here, well, from Queens. So, yeah."

"You like to talk," I said.

"Only when I'm nervous," he said, looking around. "And I—I had to step out of my comfort zone. So, yeah, I'm kinda just—"

I placed a hand on his shoulder, breaching his physical space to test the water. I wanted to know how much muscle he was hoping to put on his current frame, and also whether or not he objected to physical touch. His shoulder tensed up under my hand, like he was flexing. "Relax," I said. "A little bit about me, I'm a flight attendant, I love to travel, and I can spot you, if you want to go lay down on the bench, I'll stand over you and make sure you get some reps in."

His shoulders sunk finally, there was relief on his face. "Thank you, I appreciate that. And by you size, I figured you knew your way around all of this equipment."

"My size?" I asked, smirking as I released my hand from him. "A compliment."

"Yeah, yeah, absolutely a compliment," he said. "That takes a lot of work. Like, I bet nobody would fuck with you."

"Yeah, nobody fucks me," I said, almost biting my tongue. The gym was the prime place to flirt, I just rarely found myself in front a twink who wasn't going to yoga or pole dancing.

"Right," he said.

I really wanted to say, because I'm a top , but that would've given up parts of my identity I didn't want to throw out there so soon.

Spence laid on the bench, positioning his head under the bar. I considered the weights he had on their to be baby weights, they were great for him, but I would've lost muscle benching them. I took my position above his head, and if he looked up at me, he might've caught a glimpse at my bulge sticking out. It wasn't intentional, exercise was the number one cause of involuntary chubbed cocks. The second cause were twinks, and I was being hit by the both.

He'd looked at me from his position, and I knew he'd caught an eyeful of my bulge. My shorts were long enough that he didn't catch a full look. But something about that little twink twinkle in his eye told me he probably wouldn't mind seeing up my shorts.

He did a set of ten reps, pushing it to his limit. "You think I should try more weight?"

"I—I'm not your trainer, I shouldn't be giving you that type of advice," I admitted, although my advice was to stop adding muscle altogether. I'm sure his body was perfect, but that wasn't my place to say, just to think. "Do you want to add more weight?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I'm so useless to this stuff. My ex—" he locked eyes with me. "Ex-boyfriend, he was into sports, so he was better at this." He looked me over again, eyes darting to my cock, then bouncing up my body like he shouldn't have done it.

That's when I hit bingo. This was flirting, and I was so used to everyone flirting with me, that I was sometimes caught off-guard when I wanted to flirt. "You want to do a couple more reps, and then I think I'm ready to go shower," I said.

Spence tugged nervously at the end of his T-shirt, his hand suspiciously close to his waist. I wondered if he was brushing it against his cock. Although I was fairly certain he was. "Yeah, sure." And once he was laid down, my suspicion was confirmed, seeing his pin straight body on the bench with that bump at his waist. There was no hiding a boner in that position.

In position to spot him, I squatted a little near his head, my chubbed cock an inch from his head. He looked back and with a hand, he cupped my cock and quickly pulled away. He gulped hard, his cock twitching in his basketball shorts. "I think—" he let out, his voice squeaking. "I think I need to shower now."

I stood. "Is that an invite?"

Wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, he nodded. "Yeah."