1. First Class - Part 1


    Date: 11/6/2014, Categories: Bisexual, Author: blin18, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    Chapter 1 - Economy “Can I help you with anything, Sir?” Bob looked up with surprise from the shirt he was inspecting, probably the drabbest and most sack-shaped in the store. Wearing his close-work glasses, he was easy to sneak up to because everything beyond arm-length was a dim blur. Like a ship from a fog bank, the shop assistant drifted into his field of vision and coalesced as a solid shape. Bob sighed inwardly. Pretty! Story of my life. It seemed a cruel irony that pretty girls so often approached him – to ask him the time, or for directions, or any number of other things that to a normal person might be conversation starters – and Bob froze like a hunted animal. Guys he could handle. Older women he could handle … usually … unless he found them attractive … which was actually pretty often. But young women … pretty women … young, pretty women like this one for instance? Forget it. His jaw would drop open, he would feel a tightness clamping down over his chest and he would forget to breathe. All he could think about was how beautiful they were; how they could snap their fingers and have any guy at their command; how they must loathe talking to a dork like him, their skin crawling with the need to be away from him and return to the beautiful people with whom they belong. With these thoughts flashing through his mind, Bob opened his mouth to say “No, thanks” when he stopped, his jaw hanging open as was usual in these situations; but although he was thinking about all of ...
    his caligynephobic reactions to pretty girls, he wasn’t feeling any of them. Caligynephobic? How is that even a real thing? Fear of beautiful women … madness! He had been pretty mellow and zoned out since he got off the plane at Coffs Harbour airport. In what was probably going to remain the single most extraordinary experience of his life ( it’s all downhill from here, Bob; and you’re only 19! ), Bob had lost his virginity and joined the Mile-High Club in a twenty minute whirlwind of panic and passion with Vicky, a slim and beautiful flight attendant on the shuttle from Sydney. Rather than dismissing the pretty shop assistant, Bob quickly grabbed at what was probably a temporary surge of confidence and asked for help. “Actually I think you probably can help,” he said, smiling as he absently brushed at a lock of black hair that always seemed to fall behind his glasses but never between the barber’s scissors. “I’ve just flown in and my suitcase must have gone to Melbourne. I need some clothes for tonight; I’m going out.” It was only a white lie. His suitcase was safely beside the bed at his grandmother’s house, filled with baggy shorts and t-shirts that were completely appropriate for bumming round the house and beach, which was all that he had planned to do until Vicky tipped his life upside down. Not that things would be any better with access to his wardrobe at home; there was a very good reason why Bob didn’t own clothes suitable for going out at night: he’d never done it ...
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