London, England is 8 ½ hours away. The current altitude is 32,500 feet and climbing. I know the location of the bathroom, the oxygen masks, emergency exits and the barf bag. I have my portable CD player, all my favorite tunes, and a bottle of water. I have an extra pillow and my blanket. I've only forgotten one crucial element - my bottle of Valium. I'll take irrational fears for $500, Alex.

Aeronausiphobia - what is the fear of airsickness? Ding, ding - 500 bucks for you!

Aviatophobia - what is the fear of flying? Another winner! To be honest, it's not really flying that I fear. It's the landing after we crash from the sky into the ocean or land below. Yeah, that's the big one - altophobia, the fear of falling from high places. And let me tell you, 32,500 feet is an awfully long fall.

I'm doing my best to settle into my seat and not think about fiery crashes into the ocean as we pass over the Florida coast and head into a different time zone. You would think with all my travels, I would have been over this by now, but I'm not. I get the shakes every time I board a plane; hence the Valium. But, alas, I have forgotten to pack it, which is definitely out of the norm for me.

Had I not been rushed, had I gone over my checklist of everything I needed for this trip, had I not been distracted beyond all belief, I would have my crutch with me, and I would not be consumed by thoughts of my impending death. The cause of my distraction earlier is trying his best to distract me now. Unfortunately, nothing short of an earth-shattering orgasm is going to take my mind off my dilemma.

Being the good little superhero he is, Shane pops in my favorite CD and puts the headphones on my ears, treating me to the soothing sounds of Metallica. He checks to make sure my seatbelt is fastened properly, my tray is put away and my seat is in the upright position. The perfect way to die - strapped into a cushy seat in a vessel made of tons of steel, which defies gravity in itself. But, hey - at least I won't die alone.

We don't have to worry about the usual…restrictions of a commercial flight. Today, we're being treated to a charter. So when we go down, it's going to be in first class accommodations! I remind Shane of this, and he just shakes his head slightly, smiling at me in that cute, adorable, dorky kind of way that he has. His assurances that we're not going to die help a little.

I close my eyes as the plane climbs higher. For some reason, I start thinking about the Titanic, and how the violinists played "Near My God to Thee" as the ship sank. I'm about as close to God as I'm ever going to be at the moment, or so I think. The plane bounces as we hit an air pocket and I open my eyes, panic taking over.

A soothing hand on my arm stills me, but only for a moment. It isn't until that hand slips down to rest on my thigh that my thoughts change course. The all-clear sign flashes and the braver souls get up and start moving around the plane, engrossing themselves in conversation, books or card games. I'm still rooted to my seat, held in place by five fingers that make up the hand that holds everything I am.

The hand bone connected to the arm bone, the arm bone connected to the shoulder bone. God, I've lost it now. Especially when he pulls the blanket up over my lap and I feel that same hand move down to the juncture of my thighs and brush over the small lump that has yet to awaken. If he thinks this is going to keep my mind off the fact that we're zooming across the clouds in a virtual deathtrap, he's crazier than I am.

And crazy he is. I feel the string of my workout pants being pulled out followed by the unsnapping and unzipping of the only thing between myself and indecency. But hey, the blanket is pulled up high enough that no one can see. And even if they did see it, so what? It wouldn't be the first time that any of these guys had seen my dick. But it would be the first time most of them had seen it being fondled by the green-haired king of techno-geeks.

I'm the king of cool. I don't even make a sound as his fingers slide over the tip, moistening my hot skin with the drops oozing out of me. I open my eyes slightly and look over at him, watching the sparkle in his eyes as the tip of his tongue pokes out of his mouth, as if he was concentrating on a difficult algebraic equation instead of giving me a hand job on a plane.

A few of the guys glance over, but seem unfazed by the fact that my mouth is hanging open, and I might possibly be drooling. They probably think I've drifted into my drug-induced stupor and am oblivious to the rest of the human world. This is not the case. My world has become super-human as the light above us goes off and my partner in crime disappears from view.

I want to tell him that we can't do this here, that I will be fine if I could have a drink - or two or twelve. But my blanket has become his cape and he is introducing me to the joys of Hurri-suction at 36,000 feet. I look around, trying to find something to concentrate on, so that I remember not to moan out loud. As my luck would have it, I lock eyes with the bionic redneck and he flashes me a knowing grin. Guess he saw Shane's not-so-subtle drop to the floor.

There is a distinct advantage to having sex in such a populated place. There is a certain thrill attached to the fact that there are so many people close by, so many opportunities for one of them to decide that they want to talk to me at this moment. Getting caught at the moment would be…embarrassing to say the least, but it's happened to all of us before. It wouldn't be THAT big of a deal, although I can't say the same for my erection.

That same piece of turgid flesh, which was currently, encased in the confines of our resident superhero's hot, sweet little mouth. Fortunately for me, one of his most dominant Hurri-powers included the ability to cover his braces with his lips and avoid any unnecessary shredding of my dick. Of course, that wasn't the only superpower his mouth possessed, and I was being treated to a demonstration of his linguistic talents.

At this point in time, all rational thought has left me. Even my irrational thoughts have taken a back seat to the fact that I was on the receiving end of the best goddamn blowjob this side of the Atlantic Ocean. Wait…which side of the ocean am I on right now anyway? I don't have a clue. My existence has narrowed to two things - "Enter Sandman" and the tongue that is trying its best to enter me.

That is my weakness. I've always been a sucker for a good tongue bath. And believe me, if there is one thing that Shane can do, it's use his tongue. He may be quiet and soft-spoken, but he screams like a banshee when he's naked and on the verge of dying from cum overload. The sweetest sound to my ears is the way he drawls out my name at the top of his lungs, putting way more vowels into my name than nature, or my mother intended. Never has that one word sounded so sweet - "JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!"

What I love even more is my other name - GODOHGODOHMYFUCKINGODJAY! Who wouldn't want to be a deity? I can't think of anyone. I can't think. I'm concentrating on the fluids that are flowing from my body. Sweat from my pores, blood from the inside of my cheeks, and cum being drawn from my balls into the back of Shane's throat.

When the tufts of green hair appear from under the blue blanket, I look into the brown eyes that have come to remind me of chocolate chips nestled into warm, sweet cookie that I would die to have. Shane moves from the floor to his seat, smiling and wiping the corner of his mouth. I look around, trying to assure myself that our little act of flagrante dilecto had gone undetected. Steve catches my eye again and gives me a thumbs up, causing me to blush.

My superhero smiles across the plane at him and winks. I am confused momentarily, not sure of the meaning behind this exchange, but I'm not questioning it now. All I want is to sleep, and my lullaby is the sweet words of "Loverman" and the whispers of my superhero, my new drug of choice. As I succumb to fatigue, I decide I might have to leave my Valium at home more often, because there's nothing like the gale force of a Hurricane a mile high to relax you.