It was the height of the sunup rushing hr and I was about to change tube trains. To be honorable, I had been"scanning the talent"a bit, to see if there was anyone gracious to stand adjacent to, but time was getting on and I might be late if I didn't just pinch onto the next train to come up in.

So when the future train arrived and the crew milled around, opine my pleasant surprise at finding myself about to squeeze on in the company of a particularly eligible young man.

He was quite unretentive, about 5'7 ”, sassy and in his early 20's I'd say ; slim, clean-shaven, with short-cut, coloured Robert Brown hair and deep brown eyes. Quite cute, in fact. He carried in one hired man a written matter of the freelance and was wearing a hanker, black-and-white herringbone pattern overcoat over a blue suit. The coat was open.

From the consequence we boarded, the wagon train was so crowd that it was impossible not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less right shoulder to correctly shoulder and the backbone of my umbrella paw was touching office of the interior of his right leg. Actually, it quickly became unclouded that it was not just his leg I was touching but something else as well. As my deal was positioned on the interior of his leg, rather than the outside, what I could feel clearly wasn't something in his pocket and my rarity soon began to get the better of me.

As the train carried on, I allowed the natural swaying of the pram to permit me one or two exploratory brushes with the back of my hand and fingerbreadth. 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 putz was hanging loosely down his right leg - he was obviously wearing boxer shorts. For some inexplicable reason, I imagined that they were pale blue.

At the following stop of the train, all attention concentrated on the other side of the bearing, and he secured his status by holding onto the bar above us with his left over bridge player. This had the effect of further opening his coat and shielding us from view. He was holding his paper in his mightily hand now and I realized that he did not seem to be taking the opportunity of using it to protect himself from my feeler - which could surely not consume gone unnoticed. I moved in closer.

Still with umbrella in my right mitt and well-shielded from the gang by his coating, I deliberately felt him with my fingers. By now, he was not so often hanging down his leg but pointing down across in strawman of it. As I explored downwards, however, he just seemed to get longer and longer. In fact, because he was fairly suddenly, I had to fully stretch my hand downwards to continue this caress, as he became more and more heavily and erect.

I began to feel the tell-tale embodiment of the swelling nous of his organ through the material of his trouser and I began to imagine what it must look like.

There being no hitch on this side of the train for a while, I took the opportunity at the succeeding post to exempt my manus of my umbrella by slipping the handgrip into the diametrical 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 English of his mitt and I experienced an electrical thrill, as if a tour had been connected between us.

Now my right hand was completely dislodge to explore the fully extent of his erect and fully extended organ. I massaged him through his pant, absorbing the hullabaloo of the moment and the flush of this adorable Pres Young man under my great power and offering no resistivity. My heart began to pounding in my pinna. Standing so close, I could see every pore of his freshly-shaven case, the potato chip and immaculate cut of his dark brownness hair around his spike and I could smell the Sweet but discreet scent of his cologne. He was indeed, really attractive and for a legal brief instant, I imagined that I could put my weaponry around his waist, embrace him and kiss him.

His consummate lack of resistance encouraged my next move. Amidst the swaying of the train stroller, as it rattled along its long dark tunnel, I traced my fingers up the fly of his trousers, until I reached the top. I released the spit of his zip and held it, momentarily hesitating, expecting his rejection. There was none. All the speech sound of the gear and the world around us were blotted-out as my nerve pounded in my ear and I was possessed of this young man, held for the moment only by the tongue of his zip between my fingers.

In one slow but sweetheart relocation, 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 lovesome and inviting opening.
I now felt the effeminacy of his dark boxer trunks and the warmth and smoothness of his groin. Through soft cotton wool, I felt his balls, pocket-sized and tightly bunched ;"a boy's balls ”, I thought. I searched for an opening to his trunks but I couldn't find one in the qualified space in which I was obliged to explore. But through the material, I could still feel the tufts of pubic fuzz around the fundament of his reed organ, now hard and erect across his right field leg. My hand strained around inside the small space. His orchis may have been a boy's but his tool was that of a man ; not particularly thick but surprisingly long -"especially for such a short chap ”, I thought.

Still through his soft cotton boxer short circuit, I could feel that he was already in a high nation of excitement, soaking wet from the pre-cum juice I had already encouraged by my massage of him and by the sheer inflammation of what I was doing to him. My finger's breadth explored still further, this time inside the leg of his drawers, at last to discover and slide over the question of his tool, now swollen and slippery, foreskin drawn back and oozing more juices into the already soaked cotton wool of his short. At finally, I had found my way through the labyrinth and had discovered its secret.

I grasped my hired hand around his Hammond organ and began massaging the exposed head between my thumb and index, daily round and around, while I felt unquiet pulse of excitement pass through my hand. With each pulse, the oral sex of his tool swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice.

The caravan stopped at the next place, letting on even more mass at the other English of the go-cart, obligingly pressing the two of us even more closely together. No-one could throw known what ecstasy was being shared between two offspring men in the thick of their hum-drum journey to work. As we remained, almost face to expression and squashed together in the crowd geartrain, as rider jostled and pushed around us, I could experience the heat radiating from his eubstance. My eyes absorbed the minute point of his face ; the slight dimpled chad in his shaven Kuki-Chin, his slightly flushed buttock and his sonant eye-lashes ; even the individual haircloth of his neat eye-brows and the little counterspy to the right hand his dilated nostrils, a token blemish in an otherwise flawless face. He was looking away from me, over my right shoulder, pretending to the outside universe that he was ignoring me but as I searched into his center, 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 meat of the carriage.

Meanwhile, the nervous pulsing in his Hammond organ had been replaced by a sweetheart rock-hardness in my hand and I began to boil down the attention of my index digit on the sensitive underside of his strong, well up and slippy tool. He was certainly not trying to deter me and he must have realized, long before this point, where all this was leading.

All too soon, the excitation began to evidence too much for him and he started to lose control. As my finger's breadth slid around the slippery head of his reed organ, and my hand grasped the irradiation, I felt that tell-tale throb as his liquid manhood was finally released into my hand ; once, twice….three……four……five…….six…….seven times, his organ pulsed in slow rhythmic outlet, as I felt lovesome juices penetrating the gap between my fingers. I watched his aspect as his eyes closed, his anterior naris dilated and the side of his neck flushed. His mouth parted slightly as I felt his chest breath-in deeply and quietly let out a foresighted, diffuse sigh. He swallowed hard.

I could hardly believe my senses. This sexy youth man had just allowed me to move into his to the highest degree buck private soundbox territory secretly, in public, and had ejaculated into my hand ; and all in the quad of a few minutes, the sexy short devil ! I continued to take all this in as best I could, slowly massaging his still erect and sticky organ, round and around in my hand amidst the wet folding of his shorts. Even now, he proffered no resistance. He even allowed me to caress his balls and explore his inguen again, as his organ began to relax against my deal. I didn't want this to end ; it was too fantastic to be true. But his cum was all over my hired hand and his boxer shorts ; and there was so a good deal of it.

But as if to lend us back to world, we arrived at the following give-and-take station. I squeezed his balls affectionately and slue my hand out of his fly, considerately raising his zip most of the way to the top again, as if to cover my trail, while sparing him any overplus at the Saame time. As I removed my script, he lightly touched it with his, and gently squeezed my fingerbreadth in a part motion of acknowledgment.

He got off the gear and, without a glance back, he hurried away into the aurora rush-hour. All I had left to win over me that what had just happened was existent, was the scented, salty mouthful of his climax all over the palm of my mightily bridge player. And the thought of those soaking wet, blue Boxer shorts !