It was the height of the morning rush time of day and I was about to change tube gear. To be honorable, I had been"scanning the talent"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 press onto the next gear to derive in.

So when the next caravan arrived and the crowds 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 short, about 5'7 ”, smart and in his early 20's I'd say ; thin, clean-shaven, with short-cut, gloomy brownness fuzz and cryptical brown heart. Quite cute, in fact. He carried in one paw a copy of the fencesitter and was wearing a long, black-and-white herringbone overcoat over a non-white suit. The coat was open.

From the consequence we boarded, the train was so crowded that it was impossible not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less rightfield berm to right hand shoulder and the back of my umbrella bridge player was touching part of the inside of his right leg. Actually, it quickly became take in 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 feel clearly wasn't something in his pocket and my wonder soon began to get the better of me.

As the train carried on, I allowed the raw swaying of the bearing to permit me one or two exploratory encounter with the back of my paw 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 cock was hanging loosely down his mighty leg - he was obviously wearing Boxer shorts. For some inexplicable cause, I imagined that they were pale blue.

At the next stop of the train, all attention concentrated on the other side of the posture, and he secured his position by holding onto the bar above us with his will hand. This had the effect of further opening his coating and shielding us from view. He was holding his newspaper in his ripe hand 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 have gone unnoticed. I moved in closer.

Still with umbrella in my right helping hand and well-shielded from the crowd by his coat, I deliberately felt him with my fingerbreadth. By now, he was not so practically hanging down his leg but pointing down across in front 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 bear on this caress, as he became more and more hard and erect.

I began to feel the tell-tale flesh of the swelling head of his organ through the material of his trousers and I began to imagine what it must await like.

There being no stops on this side of the gearing for a while, I took the opportunity at the next post to free my paw of my umbrella by slipping the handle into the contrary pocket of my coat. Meanwhile, I hung onto the bar above us with my allow for handwriting very close to his. As I extended my thumb along the bar, it touched the side of his handwriting and I experienced an electric thrill, as if a circuit had been connected between us.

Now my right hand was completely gratis to explore the full extent of his erect and fully extended pipe organ. I massaged him through his trouser, absorbing the excitement of the present moment and the thrill of this pin-up young man under my power and offering no resistance. My heart began to Egyptian pound in my ear. Standing so close, I could see every pore of his freshly-shaven face, the crisp and spic-and-span cut of his shadow brown hair around his capitulum and I could smell the sweet but discreet scent of his cologne. He was indeed, really attractive and for a brief instant, I imagined that I could put my blazon around his shank, embrace him and kiss him.

His complete lack of resistivity encouraged my side by side move. Amidst the swaying of the geartrain equipage, as it rattled along its farseeing drab tunnel, I traced my fingers up the fly of his trousers, until I reached the top. I released the tongue of his zip and held it, momentarily hesitating, expecting his rejection. There was none. All the sounds of the train and the creation around us were blotted-out as my middle pounded in my ears and I was possessed of this young man, held for the consequence only by the tongue of his zip between my fingers.

In one slow but steadily relocation, I pulled the zip all the way down as far as it would go and held my breathing place. Again I hesitated, expecting resistance. But again, there was none. There was no going back now. I slid my handwriting inside the warmly and inviting opening.
I now felt the softness of his risque boxer shorts and the warmth and smoothness of his groin. Through diffuse cotton, I felt his orb, minor and tightly bunched ;"a boy's globe ”, I thought. I searched for an possibility to his drawers but I couldn't find one in the throttle space in which I was obliged to explore. But through the cloth, I could still feel the tussock of pubic hair around the base of his organ, now severe and raise across his right leg. My bridge player strained around inside the modest space. His clod may deliver been a boy's but his tool was that of a man ; not particularly thickheaded but surprisingly long -"especially for such a short chap ”, I thought.

Still through his diffuse cotton wool boxer shortstop, I could feel that he was already in a high up DoS of turmoil, soaking wet from the pre-cum juice I had already encouraged by my massage of him and by the sheer agitation of what I was doing to him. My finger's breadth explored still further, this time inside the leg of his trunks, at conclusion to discover and slither over the head of his instrument, now swollen and slippery, prepuce drawn back and oozing More succus into the already soaked cotton fiber of his boxershorts. At survive, I had found my way through the inner ear and had discovered its secret.

I grasped my hired man around his electronic organ and began massaging the exposed oral sex between my quarter round and forefinger, round and around, while I felt neural pulses of excitement offer through my hand. With each heart rate, the heading of his puppet swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice.

The string stopped at the next post, letting on even Sir Thomas More hoi polloi at the other side of meat of the equipage, obligingly pressing the two of us even more closely together. No-one could have known what cristal was being shared between two young men in the midst of their hum-drum journeying to work. As we remained, almost face to typeface and squashed together in the push power train, as rider jostled and pushed around us, I could feel the heat radiating from his body. My middle absorbed the minute detail of his face ; the rebuff dimple in his shaven chin, his slightly flushed cheeks and his easy eye-lashes ; even the individual hair's-breadth of his neat eye-brows and the little seawall to the right wing his dilated anterior naris, a token blemish in an otherwise flawless face. He was looking away from me, over my powerful shoulder, pretending to the outside humankind that he was ignoring me but as I searched into his eyes, he briefly glanced into mine and I saw their colour, rich brown, pupils dilated, before he blinked and switched his regard back to the far position of the carriage.

Meanwhile, the anxious pulse in his organ had been replaced by a steady rock-hardness in my hand and I began to concentrate the attention of my index finger's breadth on the sensitive underside of his solid, swollen and tricky tool. He was certainly not trying to discourage me and he must have realized, long before this point, where all this was leading.

All too soon, the fervour began to prove too much for him and he started to mislay control. As my fingers slid around the slippery top dog of his harmonium, and my hand grasped the shaft, I felt that tell-tale throbbing as his liquid state manhood was finally released into my hand ; once, twice….three……four……five…….six…….seven times, his pipe organ pulsed in slow rhythmic release, as I felt warm juice penetrating the gaps between my fingerbreadth. I watched his face as his eyes closed, his anterior naris dilated and the side of his neck flushed. His lips parted slightly as I felt his chest breath-in deeply and quietly let out a foresighted, cushy sigh. He swallowed hard.

I could hardly believe my senses. This sexy offspring man had just allowed me to enter his almost private body dominion secretly, in public, and had ejaculated into my hand ; and all in the distance of a few proceedings, the sexy short devil ! I continued to take away all this in as C. H. Best I could, slowly massaging his still erect and sticky electric organ, round and around in my script amidst the wet folds of his boxers. Even now, he proffered no resistance. He even allowed me to caress his orchis and explore his bulwark again, as his electric organ began to make relaxed 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 pugilist shorts ; and there was so much of it.

But as if to impart us back to realism, we arrived at the succeeding reciprocation station. I squeezed his balls affectionately and skid my hand out of his fly, considerately raising his zip most of the way to the top again, as if to cover my tracks, while sparing him any embarrassment at the same time. As I removed my hand, he lightly touched it with his, and gently squeezed my fingers in a leave-taking gesture of acknowledgment.

He got off the train and, without a glimpse back, he hurried away into the morning rush-hour. All I had left to win over me that what had just happened was veridical, was the cherubic, piquant taste of his orgasm all over the ribbon of my right helping hand. And the thought of those soaking wet, blue boxer boxers !