Six Mile High Club, Reprise

23 FEBRUARY 2015
Six miles up and "lovin' it"
My travel day started off fairly routinely. I had an e-ticket showing me that I was to fly out of Rochester at 11:30 to JFK and my overseas connection was at 7pm. No problem. When I got to the Rochester airport, Ifound out that my ticket had been changed and I was on a later flight. So I cooled my heels and had a chance to schmooze [=a friendly chat, in Yiddish] on the Aneros chat site.
By 11pm, I was exhausted, having gotten up at 5am and that after only 2 hours' sleep the night before—I had originally thought to ride that night, make an 'all-nighter' of it and possibly do it in chat, but that didn't work out.
I had resolved to try out the exercises that Chuckjo2000 gave us in the chat session at the beginning of February on the flight and see if I could progress in my "pursuit" of A-less pleasure.
Of course, by the time we were over Long Island, heading towards Boston on our trek 1/3 around the world, I was asleep. No meal, no entertainment. Waking up 5 hours later, the plane was nearing the western coast of France. It was broad daylight and I knew that we only had about 4.5 hours left to our flight—westerly winds helped us keep up a brisk pace of 600mph. Morning ablutions after climbing over my seat mate )we were fortunate not to have anyone between us, and then I settled back to rest—going against my own rules not to sleep when it was daylight at the destination )it helps with adjusting to the new time(. At this point, I tried to mentally do some of those exercises and 'virtually' massage the prostate. Not much happened for about a half hour. I even tried a mental version of the Piano Man maneuver and brought my hands over my lower parts as a tent. I did this as discretely as possible, under the blanket and with a pillow strategically placed to minimize any 'untoward' manifestations by my penis. At one point, I felt a very strange sensation: Yes, it was definitely my prostate, but it iwas a definite sensation of cool/cold right there and trying to radiate out from there. It was very interesting, having never experienced a cold sensation there, and not disagreeable because of its novelty, but not pleasure. At least an hour later, I awoke and saw that my seatmate was eating breakfast. Having missed the first meal on board, I was not about to miss the second and I requested the meal.
As I finished my coffee and the small pastry, I looked out of the window as we passed over the very tip of the "boot" of Italy, over the Mediterranen on our last leg. I had my noice cancelling earphones on )Phiaton Bluetooth(. In addition to listening to music during the flight, I will also just keep the music paused and use the noise cancellation as an isolation
It was then that I felt it. A pleasant tickle in the prostate. Uh huh. At first, I thought, OK, I've just eaten and I am having a regular gastrocolic reflex )That's a normal reflex that we have when our stomach has been filled and distended and you get the urge to defecate(. Rationalizing, I figured that whatever [I apologize for the indelicacy] poop was in the rectosigmoid )the part of the colon just above the rectum(, had moved down with the reflex and was somehow touching and therefore stimulation the prostate from behind. That's it. But, the sensation stayed and grew and it was not associated with the mild rectal contractions one gets with the gastrocolic reflex, feeling the urge to defecate. I closed my eyes and began to breath slowly and deeper than usual, but not overly deep—I guess in part not to awaken the attention of the guy nearby. I looked out the window at the clouds below and felt the sensations down there strengthen and spread. Each breath encouraged it and I closed my eyes. With the earphones in place I could feel myself inside myself, as it were. Each breath actually could be felt down there and it was as if my breathing itself was stroking my prostate and I relished that visualization and kept it up and, oh boy!, that was right on the mark. The P waves began in earnest and kept my eyes closed but not tightly. I found my legs tensing and I kept relaxing them and letting the thighs separate slightly. And kept up the gentle, but deep abdominal breathing, slowly, feeling each breath literally massage my prostate and bringing with it growing sensations of a sweet pleasure that I had only previously had with a device in. I was able )but not without a bit of effort( to keep myself from grimacing from the pleasure. This 'struggle' actually seemed to contribute to the pleasure—I guess in part it was the 'naughtiness' of the moment, of being in public, of being up here and having a most wonderful time in the most intimate way without anyone else noticing. At the same time, I did have some concerns that the session could end in an embarrassing, well, happy ending )though I have never ejaculated during a session, this was new territory and who knew?(. I had at least three definite crescendos and plateaus of pleasure that were orgasmal with the rhythmic pulsing of the prostate and surrounding tissues. Additional P waves occurred and I was having the most intense A-less experience 'of my life'! The pleasure during the peaks was comparable to having a device in, no question of that. But no uncontrollable shaking or moaning )those are not a regular occurrence for me anyway(.
All this happened in the course of only 30 minutes or so of the flight. At this point, I had to make a decision: with only an hour and 15 minutes to go in the flight, do I just take it on home till landing? Or, do I stop here and write all this down and trust my memory to recreate the details? Knowing my memory, I opted for the first choice. The decision was made easier when my seatmate decided to get up himself. So I used the opportunity to use the bathroom one last time )always a smart choice for this older guy(. So, I stopped and began to write this. All the time I am writing this, I am feeling faint little tickles that I am pretty sure I'll be able to focus on and reawaken. Let's see…closing my eyes, stopping the Brahms on the earphones, and…yes, there's the tickle, and I can intensify it a bit and even a few minutes later when I turn my attention to it, it's there for me to 'work with it if I want'. This is simply wonderful to me… who needs the movies and stuff if I have this to keep me happy on a flight. And of course there's that fantastic feeling of elation and satisfaction that we have after a session. None of the letdown…
I am keeping myself from analyzing why and how it worked )though the urge to is very strong with me, as usual. But I don't want to spoil this by trying to figure it out(. I am hooked, and I'm looking forward to my next flight )it turns out that it'll be tomorrow—but only a 40 min jump to Cyprus. Let's see if I can make it happen, or at least get it going(. Maybe, I've arrived at this destination )A-less pleasure(. Another milestone..