This story contains mature content, adult themes and nudity. If you object to any of this, or it is illegal for you to read such things under the law of the country you are in, then read no further. Ben would like me to remind you that this story is based on a fictionalised version of Ben and his life really isn't this interesting! Any resemblance to any other person past or present is purely coincidental.

Am autumn break in the sun seemed such a good idea but things didn't really go well from the start! At least he had Reece to help him out...

The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Nothing to Declare

Ben sat on an uncomfortable blue plastic seat, staring out beyond the window to the swaying palms. He was happy that Reece had invited him on this impromptu foreign trip, but secretly happy they were on their way home now. Nothing comforted Ben more than the steady monotony of everyday life.

He hated airports. All that waiting around. All those people being very annoying. At least he didn't have to worry about hovering around the baggage reclaim when they landed back in Luton. No, that was very much sorted on the way out . . .

*  *  *

Ben looked at the conveyor belt rattling by, busily carrying around a single item of arriving luggage. The problem was it wasn't his luggage.

Reece looked at Ben looking at the conveyor belt, wondering when he should suggest they leave. He had resisted the temptation to ask, “Are you sure that isn't yours?” at the start, and after ten laps thought against asking it now. Instead, he said, “I don't think it's coming, Ben.”

Yeh,” replied a resigned Ben.

Hey, I'm sure it will turn up,” offered Reece.

Hmmm. Maybe.”

Look, let's go leave our details and get going. You can borrow some of my clothes until it's found.”

Yeh?” Ben was both excited at the prospect of wearing Reece's clothes but worried about the distinct lack of black in his wardrobe. “Okay, thanks.”

As they turned to leave the hall, Ben offered one last accusatory look over his shoulder at the conveyor.

*  *  *

When Reece had said Ben could borrow his clothes, Ben hadn't expected that to mean after they had been worn. While it was exciting to wear his friend's underwear, it was on another level when they had been worn by Reece the day before.

Ben had washed the one pair of his own that he had but didn't use them again until today; he didn't know when he would get the opportunity to get into Reece's pants again, so to speak.

The hotel they were staying at was a bit out of the way and there were no clothes stores as such. A few cheap stores stocking over-bright and ‘wordy’ clothing. Not a single plain black tee shirt to be found. It was frankly a disgrace.

He washed his one black tee and interchanged it with a dark grey one from Reece. It was acceptable if not ideal. He baulked at the pair of shorts offered by Reece. “Oh, come on, Ben, you'll look cute!” The phrase still rattled around his mind. The horror of it!

So, he stuck with his black skinny jeans. Well, for the first day at least. While he was in the shower, it turned out Reece had other ideas. It wasn't until Ben had wiped the excess water off his arms and legs and dried himself that he noticed the jeans were gone.

*  *  *

Ben poked his head around the door. “Um, Reece, where are my jeans?”

Come out!” Reece replied cheerfully. Before Ben had the opportunity to protest about his state of undress, Reece had grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the bathroom. Reece was wearing a pair of skimpy shorts and nothing else. Ben instantly felt the urge to cover his erection, made even more prominent by the skimpy briefs he was having to wear.

I'm not having you out here in this heat wearing black jeans. It's not good. So . . . I've found a solution!”

Oh?” Ben watched as Reece turned around to a table behind him, desperately trying not to look at his friend's peachy arse waggling in his direction. He had long ago learnt not to look at things he could never have.

Ta-da!” Reece said, spinning around. Ben blinked at the black denim shorts held up in front of him.

Umm. Are those my . . .?” Ben croaked.

A perfect solution, no?”

Ben hesitated briefly before taking the shorts, on the most part to hide the wet patch he was making in Reece's briefs. It was so horny that his friend had just cut up his jeans, and Ben had to admit he had done a good job. There was no unseemly cut, just a neat hem.

How did you . . .?” Ben pointed to the hem while ensuring the shorts covered his briefs.

Fabric glue. I always bring some in my emergency sewing kit!”

At that moment, Ben fell even more in love with Reece. How perfect is a person who brings an emergency sewing kit with them on holiday, thought Ben.

Too perfect by half for him, he was sure.

*  *  *

Ben gazed up at the ceiling and decided he didn't want to look at his legs sticking out of cut-off jeans any more. The memory of how they’d come to be cut-offs instead of jeans had already caused a small amount of leakage in his boxers. The ‘shorts’ had held up well since then, but had required some running repairs with the fabric glue in the bus to the airport.

He had wanted to go through Security immediately after dropping off Reece's bag. Why wouldn't he? But Reece had other ideas.

Ben glanced longingly across to the currency exchange window which, five minutes ago when they had passed, had a very fit young local lad within. It now had a ‘back in ten minutes’ sign displayed. He glanced at his watch briefly and sighed.

“Okay! Let's go!” exclaimed Reece, slightly out of breath and seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Ben noted his red cheeks, jealous of the barefaced audacity of his friend. Now he understood the ‘back in ten minutes’ sign.

They made their way to security. Ben undid his black Vans belt and started to empty his pockets well in advance of the point where the trays were handed out. He cast his eyes around at the people not doing the same and made a very loud tut. Internally, of course.

When they made it to the first of the queue, he placed his belongings into the grey tray and placed it on the runners. As he made his way to the scanner, a security guard pointed to his Yeezys and then to the conveyor belt. Ben instantly knew what this meant, slipping them off his feet and placing them in another grey tray. He hated to be parted from his Yeezys, even for a minute, but needs must . . .

He walked in his white Adidas socks back to the security guard who ushered him through the body scanner. Once through, the guard duly waved his wand around Ben's body without a single bleep and was satisfied that Ben was not a danger. Even so, as Ben started towards the tray pick up area, the security guard diverted him to a small side area where a female guard was seated. She extended her hand and looked at Ben. He followed her lead and offered his hand. She nodded and ran a white gauze across, then placed the gauze into a test tube which she inserted into a machine. A few seconds later, a red light flashed on the device and she raised her hand.

Ben looked around, a little confused. Reece was nowhere to be seen, although he did spot a beefy young security guard making a beeline towards him. Even to Ben, who was six foot four inches, the man was a big unit.

Their eyes met. Ben gulped.

“Can you collect your belongings and follow me, please?” said the guard.

Ben meekly nodded and followed the order.

*  *  *

Ben sat in a bleak anteroom off the Security area. The seat was no less uncomfortable than any other in the airport but it seemed worse because he’d had to remove his shorts and boxers first. The paper underneath, dictated for hygiene reasons, didn't particularly help.

The hunk of a security guard reappeared. Ben was at least glad he still had his tee to hide his raging boner.

“So, I am afraid to say we detected a substance used for making bombs on your hand,” the guard said without preamble.

“Oh?” was the best Ben could come up with. Now he was scared as well as embarrassed.

“I am sure there is a good reason for it,” the giant added almost apologetically, “but we have to be careful.”

“I see,” Ben responded. “Yes, of course.” He thought for a moment, then blurted out, “Oooh! Glue?”

“Yes, that could trigger it.”

“Ah, the hem on my shorts—I had to glue it back on.”

“Oh, well, they have your shorts now and are testing them, so hopefully that will be it,” the guard sighed in relief. “Good, that will make it easier on us all.”

He smiled at Ben, instantly putting him at ease; it was just all a simple misunderstanding.

But soon the guard was all business again. He pointed off to the side. “Okay, if you can just lean over that table.”

Ben blinked several times. “I'm sorry?”

“Just on the table, please. Legs apart. Standard procedure, I am afraid, in these situations.”

Ben's eyes widened as the guard snapped a pair of blue latex gloves onto his large hands, but he dutifully obeyed and leant across the table. He flinched as his erect cock was crushed beneath his own weight. After a moment of an internal debate that he had never expected he would have to consider, he discreetly fished out his penis and stuffed it under the table. The position was marginally more comfortable although it had the distinct downside of putting his junk clearly on display.

“Okay,” the guard said, “this is going to feel a little cold. Just relax.”

Relax? Relax?! Would this stranger be able to relax if the tables were turned? He thought not!

Ben instantly regretted the thought as his erection pulsed. He flinched as he felt a hand pull his buttock to one side. His eyes widened as he felt two fingers push in against his anus. They slipped in easily; this was an avenue that had been well travelled recently. Ben let out a small moan; he couldn’t help himself.

“Hmmm, this is refreshing, it is not usually this easy!” remarked the guard. “I have found nothing yet but I think I might need to go a bit deeper. Is that okay for you?”

Ben felt the finger withdraw, followed by the sound of a zipper being opened. It left no doubt what would happen if he didn’t play along.


“I see. Umm, okay,” he replied breathlessly.

*  *  *

“Thank you for your cooperation, Sir. Your items will be brought back in shortly and you will be good to go,” said the guard cheerily. And cheery he should be, mused Ben as he allowed himself a small smile at having cleared the last security ‘hurdle’. Travelling was indeed adventurous. And there was nothing that Ben hated more than being adventurous. No, a quiet evening at home ironing would have done him just fine

Ben stood in the room, so exhausted that he didn’t even try to hide his cock as it drooled the final spurts of his guard-induced orgasm. The guard cupped Ben’s balls in his latex glove and slowly traced a trail up his torso to his face and then slipped his fingers into Ben’s gaping mouth. Ben experienced the unexpected taste of latex and his own cum.

“I would suggest, unless you want this to happen again, that you don’t play with glue before a flight,” the grinning guard said. “However, I hope you do not heed my advice.” He leaned in until Ben could feel the haphazard breath on his cheek. “Because I would very much like to fuck you again.”

Ben shut his eyes and inhaled sharply. When he opened them again the room was empty save for a grey tray in the corner. He made a beeline for it, but was confused when he looked in.

His shorts, belt, wallet, and phone were all there but ‘his’ boxer shorts weren’t. Nor were his Yeezys. He looked around but there was no-one to complain to, only the door leading back to the security area slightly ajar.

He quickly pulled on the repaired shorts that started this all, noticing with alarm a small trail of cum up his black tee left by the guard’s glove. He sighed deeply and headed for the door; there was nothing that could be done about that now.

He emerged on the other side and was instantly greeted by Reece.

“Ohhh. That’s where you were! Oh, where are your Yeezys?” His eyes moved up from Ben’s feet, noting the glistening stain on his tee and finally his reddened checks.

“Oh! Ben! I didn’t think you had that in you,” exclaimed Reece with a genuine degree of shock. “Come on, dirty boy, duty free awaits!”

Ben sighed, feeling very embarrassed. It had been fun, though, and the security guard was really hot, although Ben, as usual, could not comprehend why the guard was interested in him.

As they turned to leave the area, Ben gave one last hopeful look over his shoulder. To his surprise, he spotted ‘his’ security guard, now apparently off duty and sporting Ben’s Yeezys. He glanced down to the obscene bulge in his pants and a small damp spot forming. This was going to be a very long journey home indeed . . .


The Adventures of Ben Bronx: Nothing to Declare by sneaked666
Edited by sz1415sneakers

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