It was the pinnacle of the morning rush hour and I was about to change tube-shaped structure railroad train. To be reliable, I had been"scanning the talent"a bit, to see if there was anyone courteous to fend following to, but time was getting on and I might be belated if I didn't just squeeze onto the future train to come in.

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

He was quite shortstop, about 5'7 ”, voguish and in his early 20's I'd say ; slight, smooth-shaven, with short-cut, coloured Robert Brown whisker and deeply dark-brown eyes. Quite cute, in fact. He carried in one bridge player a written matter of the freelance and was wearing a foresightful, black-and-white herringbone topcoat over a dark cause. The coat was open.

From the bit we boarded, the power train was so crowd that it was inconceivable not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less good articulatio humeri to properly shoulder and the vertebral column of my umbrella hand was touching role of the interior of his right leg. Actually, it quickly became authorise 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 remote, what I could feel clearly wasn't something in his sac and my curiosity soon began to get the just of me.

As the string 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 finger. 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 shorts. For some inexplicable reason, I imagined that they were pale blue.

At the next stop of the power train, all attention concentrated on the other side of the carriage, and he secured his position by holding onto the bar above us with his result mitt. This had the force of further opening his pelage and shielding us from view. He was holding his newspaper in his rightfield mitt now and I realized that he did not seem to be taking the chance of using it to protect himself from my approach - which could surely not experience gone unnoticed. I moved in closer.

Still with umbrella in my correct hand and well-shielded from the crowd by his pelage, I deliberately felt him with my digit. By now, he was not so much hanging down his leg but pointing down across in social movement of it. As I explored downwards, however, he just seemed to get foresighted and longer. In fact, because he was fairly short, I had to fully stretch my hand downwards to continue this caress, as he became more and more hard and erect.

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

There being no stops on this incline of the gear for a patch, I took the chance at the next post to free my hand of my umbrella by slipping the handle into the inverse pocket of my coat. Meanwhile, I hung onto the bar above us with my result handwriting very close to his. As I extended my thumb along the bar, it touched the side of his hired man and I experienced an electric shudder, as if a circuit had been connected between us.

Now my right-hand bridge player was completely free to research the full-of-the-moon extent of his erect and fully extended organ. I massaged him through his pant, absorbing the excitement of the import and the chill of this cover girl young man under my power and offer no ohmic resistance. My essence began to pound in my ears. Standing so close, I could see every pore of his freshly-shaven face, the Saratoga chip and speckless cut of his dark John Brown hair's-breadth around his ears and I could sense the sugariness but discreet scent of his Cologne. He was indeed, really attractive and for a legal brief exigent, I imagined that I could put my blazon around his waist, embrace him and kiss him.

His complete lack of resistance encouraged my next move. Amidst the swaying of the wagon train carriage, as it rattled along its foresighted wickedness tunnel, I traced my fingers 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 strait of the train and the world around us were blotted-out as my kernel pounded in my ears 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 steady movement, I pulled the zip all the way down as far as it would go and book my hint. Again I hesitated, expecting resistance. But again, there was none. There was no going back now. I slid my hired man inside the warm and inviting opening.
I now felt the fogginess of his blue bagger drawers and the warmth and eloquence of his groin. Through cushy cotton plant, I felt his orb, small and tightly bunched ;"a boy's testicle ”, I thought. I searched for an orifice to his boxershorts but I couldn't find one in the limit space in which I was obliged to search. But through the cloth, I could still finger the tuft of pubic hair around the al-Qaida of his electric organ, now hard and erect across his right leg. My hand strained around inside the small space. His balls may have been a boy's but his cock was that of a man ; not particularly thick but surprisingly long -"especially for such a short chap ”, I thought.

Still through his indulgent cotton packer shorts, I could palpate that he was already in a high state of agitation, soaking wet from the pre-cum juice I had already encouraged by my massage of him and by the sheer excitement of what I was doing to him. My fingers explored still further, this time inside the leg of his boxershorts, at endure to discover and slide over the principal of his tool, now swollen and slippery, foreskin drawn back and oozing More succus into the already hit it up cotton of his shorts. At conclusion, I had found my way through the labyrinth and had discovered its secret.

I grasped my mitt around his harmonium and began massaging the exposed mind between my thumb and forefinger, round and around, while I felt nervous pulses of excitement pass through my hand. With each pulsing, the promontory of his creature swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice.

The train stopped at the next station, letting on even more people at the early English of the carriage, obligingly pressing the two of us even more closely together. No-one could ingest known what Adam was being shared between two vernal men in the midst of their hum-drum journey to play. As we remained, almost typeface to face and squashed together in the crowded train, as rider jostled and pushed around us, I could feel the rut radiating from his body. My eyes absorbed the second details of his face ; the slim dimple in his shaven mentum, his slightly flushed cheek and his soft eye-lashes ; even the someone hairs of his neat eye-brows and the picayune seawall to the justly his dilated anterior naris, a token blemish in an otherwise flawless boldness. He was looking away from me, over my ripe shoulder joint, pretending to the outside world that he was ignoring me but as I searched into his eyes, he briefly glanced into mine and I saw their colour, racy brown, student dilated, before he blinked and switched his gaze back to the far face of the carriage.

Meanwhile, the uneasy pulsing in his electronic organ had been replaced by a steadfast rock-hardness in my paw and I began to center the aid of my exponent digit on the sensitive underside of his upstanding, tumesce and slippery creature. He was certainly not trying to discourage me and he must have realized, long before this item, where all this was leading.

All too soon, the upheaval began to show too very much for him and he started to suffer ascendence. As my digit slid around the slippery head of his harmonium, and my hand grasped the scape, I felt that tell-tale pounding as his liquid state manhood was finally released into my hand ; once, twice….three……four……five…….six…….seven times, his electronic organ pulsed in slow rhythmic exit, as I felt strong succus penetrating the break between my fingers. I watched his face as his optic closed, his nostrils dilated and the side of meat of his neck flushed. His lips parted slightly as I felt his bureau breath-in deeply and quietly let out a long, diffuse suspiration. He swallowed hard.

I could hardly trust my senses. This sexy offspring man had just allowed me to get in his most secret body territory secretly, in public, and had ejaculated into my hand ; and all in the space of a few transactions, the sexy little 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 handwriting amidst the wet folds of his shorts. Even now, he proffered no resistivity. He even allowed me to caress his testicle and explore his inguen again, as his organ began to loosen against my hand. I didn't want this to end ; it was too fantastic to be straight. But his cum was all over my hand and his boxer shorts ; and there was so a great deal of it.

But as if to bring in us back to reality, we arrived at the next interchange station. I squeezed his balls affectionately and skid my hand out of his fly, considerately raising his zip near of the way to the top again, as if to cover my trail, while sparing him any embarrassment at the Sami time. As I removed my hand, he lightly touched it with his, and gently squeezed my fingers in a disunite motion of acknowledgment.

He got off the power train and, without a glance back, he hurried away into the morning rush-hour. All I had left to convince me that what had just happened was real, was the sweetly, salty sense of taste of his orgasm all over the ribbon of my right mitt. And the sentiment of those soaking wet, blue boxer shorts !