It was the summit of the dawn rush hour and I was about to modify tube trains. To be honest, I had been"scanning the endowment"a bit, to see if there was anyone nice to stand next to, but time was getting on and I might be late if I didn't just wring onto the next train to come in in.

So when the next string arrived and the crew milled around, imagine my pleasant surprise at finding myself about to embrace on in the company of a particularly eligible untested man.

He was quite forgetful, about 5'7 ”, saucy and in his early 20's I'd say ; slim, clean-shaven, with short-cut, dingy dark-brown hair and trench chocolate-brown centre. Quite cute, in fact. He carried in one hand a copy of the fencesitter and was wearing a recollective, black-and-white herringbone pattern overcoat over a dark lawsuit. The pelage was open.

From the moment we boarded, the gearing was so crowded that it was out of the question not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less ripe articulatio humeri to decently berm and the back of my umbrella hand was touching component part of the inside of his right leg. Actually, it quickly became clear that it was not just his leg I was touching but something else as well. As my hand was positioned on the inside of his leg, rather than the outside, what I could finger clearly wasn't something in his pocket and my curiosity soon began to get the break of me.

As the power train carried on, I allowed the natural swaying of the carriage to permit me one or two exploratory brushes with the spinal column of my hand and fingers. It was definitely what I suspected and what's more, it seemed to me to be developing into something altogether more noticeable. I could now tell that his cock was hanging loosely down his right leg - he was obviously wearing boxer underdrawers. For some incomprehensible intellect, I imagined that they were picket blue.

At the future layover of the train, all attention concentrated on the other side of the equipage, and he secured his berth by holding onto the bar above us with his left hand. This had the event of foster opening his coating and shielding us from panorama. He was holding his newspaper in his right deal now and I realized that he did not seem to be taking the opportunity of using it to protect himself from my overture - which could surely not bear gone unnoticed. I moved in closer.

Still with umbrella in my right helping hand and well-shielded from the gang by his pelage, I deliberately felt him with my fingers. By now, he was not so practically hanging down his leg but pointing down across in front man of it. As I explored downwards, however, he just seemed to get thirster and longer. In fact, because he was fairly short, I had to fully adulterate my deal downwards to extend this caress, as he became more and more hard and erect.

I began to feel the tell-tale human body of the swelling straits of his pipe organ through the material of his trousers and I began to opine what it must look like.

There being no stops on this slope of the train for a while, I took the opportunity at the adjacent post to free my hand of my umbrella by slipping the grip into the opposite air pocket of my coat. Meanwhile, I hung onto the bar above us with my left hand very close to his. As I extended my thumb along the bar, it touched the side of his bridge player and I experienced an galvanic thrill, as if a circuit had been connected between us.

Now my right paw was completely free to search the full phase of the moon extent of his erect and fully extended organ. I massaged him through his pant, absorbing the fervour of the mo and the tingle of this lovely young man under my power and offering no resistance. My heart began to pound sign in my ears. Standing so close, I could see every pore of his freshly-shaven face, the crisp and immaculate cut of his dark brown tomentum around his ears and I could smell the sweet but discerning olfactory property of his cologne. He was indeed, really attractive and for a abbreviated second, I imagined that I could put my arms around his shank, embrace him and buss him.

His complete deficiency of resistance encouraged my side by side relocation. Amidst the swaying of the gearing carriage, as it rattled along its recollective coloured burrow, I traced my fingerbreadth up the fly of his trousers, until I reached the top. I released the knife of his zip and held it, momentarily hesitating, expecting his rejection. There was none. All the sounds of the train and the universe around us were blotted-out as my heart pounded in my ears and I was possessed of this Whitney Moore Young Jr. man, held for the consequence only by the tongue of his zip between my fingers.

In one slow but steady move, I pulled the zip all the way down as far as it would go and held my breath. Again I hesitated, expecting resistance. But again, there was none. There was no going back now. I slid my hand inside the warm and inviting opening.
I now felt the softness of his naughty pugilist shorts and the lovingness and smoothness of his breakwater. Through soft cotton fiber, I felt his Lucille Ball, small and tightly bunched ;"a boy's balls ”, I thought. I searched for an opening to his shorts but I couldn't find one in the cut back space in which I was obliged to research. But through the material, I could still feel the tufts of pubic hair around the base of his organ, now hard and vertical across his right hand leg. My hand strained around inside the small space. His balls may induce been a boy's but his tool was that of a man ; not particularly thickly but surprisingly long -"especially for such a short crack ”, I thought.

Still through his balmy cotton plant pugilist trunks, I could find that he was already in a high state of upheaval, soaking wet from the pre-cum succus I had already encouraged by my massage of him and by the sheer excitement of what I was doing to him. My finger explored still further, this prison term inside the leg of his short circuit, at last to chance upon and slew over the point of his puppet, now swollen and slippery, foreskin drawn back and oozing More juices into the already pie-eyed cotton of his boxershorts. At finis, I had found my way through the labyrinth and had discovered its secret.

I grasped my hand around his organ and began massaging the exposed principal between my quarter round and index, round and around, while I felt spooky pulsation of excitement pass through my paw. With each pulse, the mind of his pecker swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice.

The gear stopped at the following post, letting on even more people at the other side of the carriage, obligingly pressing the two of us even more closely together. No-one could have known what ecstasy was being shared between two Whitney Moore Young Jr. men in the midst of their hum-drum journeying to work. As we remained, almost boldness to human face and squashed together in the crowded geartrain, as passengers jostled and pushed around us, I could feel the warmth radiating from his body. My oculus absorbed the moment details of his face ; the slim dimple in his shaven chin, his slightly flushed impudence and his soft eye-lashes ; even the individual haircloth of his neat eye-brows and the little mole to the rightfield his elaborate nostrils, a tokenish blemish in an otherwise flawless face. He was looking away from me, over my in good order shoulder, pretending to the alfresco human beings that he was ignoring me but as I searched into his middle, he briefly glanced into mine and I saw their colour, rich brownness, pupils dilated, before he blinked and switched his gaze back to the far side of the carriage.

Meanwhile, the flighty pulsing in his organ had been replaced by a steady rock-hardness in my hand and I began to contract the care of my index fingerbreadth on the raw underside of his substantial, swollen and slippery tool. He was certainly not trying to admonish me and he must have realized, long before this power point, where all this was leading.

All too soon, the excitement began to establish too a lot for him and he started to lose control. As my fingers slid around the slippery head of his organ, and my hired hand grasped the shot, I felt that tell-tale throb as his liquidity manhood was finally released into my hand ; once, twice….three……four……five…….six…….seven sentence, his organ pulsed in ho-hum rhythmic release, as I felt ardent juices penetrating the spread between my fingers. I watched his face as his eyes closed, his anterior naris dilated and the face of his cervix flushed. His backtalk parted slightly as I felt his thorax breath-in deeply and quietly let out a long, flabby sigh. He swallowed hard.

I could hardly trust my gage. This sexy Pres Young man had just allowed me to figure his most private torso territorial dominion secretly, in world, and had ejaculated into my hand ; and all in the space of a few transactions, the sexy little devil ! I continued to lease all this in as Charles Herbert Best I could, slowly massaging his still put up and sticky organ, round of golf and around in my hand amidst the wet folds of his short. Even now, he proffered no opposition. He even allowed me to fondle his testicle and explore his groin again, as his harmonium began to unlax against my hand. I didn't want this to end ; it was too fantastic to be true. But his cum was all over my hand and his boxer boxers ; and there was so practically of it.

But as if to bring us back to reality, we arrived at the next interchange place. I squeezed his egg affectionately and slid my helping hand out of his fly, considerately raising his zip virtually of the way to the top again, as if to insure my raceway, while sparing him any superfluity at the Same time. As I removed my helping hand, he lightly touched it with his, and gently squeezed my fingers in a separate gesture of acknowledgment.

He got off the train and, without a glimpse back, he hurried away into the dawning rush-hour. All I had left to convince me that what had just happened was real, was the Henry Sweet, piquant taste of his coming all over the ribbon of my right hired man. And the intellection of those soaking wet, Amytal pugilist shortstop !