It was the height of the daybreak rush hour and I was about to change tube gear. To be honest, I had been"scanning the talent"a bit, to see if there was anyone nice to stand adjacent to, but time was getting on and I might be late if I didn't just squash onto the next wagon train to issue forth in.

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

He was quite curt, about 5'7 ”, smart and in his betimes 20's I'd say ; slim, clean-shaven, with short-cut, nighttime brown hairsbreadth and mystifying John Brown eyes. Quite cute, in fact. He carried in one hand a copy of the Independent and was wearing a farseeing, black-and-white herringbone overcoat over a saturnine suit. The coating was open.

From the instant we boarded, the power train was so crowded that it was out of the question not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less right wing shoulder joint to right berm and the back of my umbrella deal was touching part of the interior of his right hand leg. Actually, it quickly became take in that it was not just his leg I was touching but something else as well. As my hired man was positioned on the interior of his leg, rather than the outside, what I could find clearly wasn't something in his pocket and my peculiarity soon began to get the punter of me.

As the string carried on, I allowed the rude swaying of the perambulator to countenance me one or two explorative brushes with the back 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 detectable. I could now tell that his turncock was hanging loosely down his compensate leg - he was obviously wearing boxer shorts. For some inexplicable reason, I imagined that they were pallid blue.

At the future stopover of the string, all attention concentrated on the other side of the pram, and he secured his stead by holding onto the bar above us with his leftfield hand. This had the effect of further opening his coat and shielding us from view. He was holding his newspaper in his veracious paw now and I realized that he did not seem to be taking the opportunity of using it to protect himself from my preliminary - which could surely not have gone unnoticed. I moved in closer.

Still with umbrella in my rightfield hand and well-shielded from the crowd by his coat, I deliberately felt him with my finger. By now, he was not so a good deal hanging down his leg but pointing down across in front of it. As I explored downwards, however, he just seemed to get longer and longer. In fact, because he was fairly shortstop, I had to fully stretch my handwriting downwards to continue this caress, as he became more and more hard and erect.

I began to palpate the tell-tale material body of the swelling head of his organ through the material of his trouser and I began to think what it must attend like.

There being no stops on this incline of the train for a piece, I took the opportunity at the future station to free my hand of my umbrella by slipping the handgrip into the opposition 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 hand and I experienced an electric charge, as if a circuit had been connected between us.

Now my flop hand was completely absolve to research the full phase of the moon extent of his erect and fully extended organ. I massaged him through his trouser, absorbing the upheaval of the moment and the thrill of this lovely young man under my great power and oblation no ohmic resistance. My fondness began to pound in my ears. Standing so close, I could see every stomate of his freshly-shaven face, the crisp and immaculate cut of his dark dark-brown hairsbreadth around his ears and I could smell the confection but discreet scent of his cologne. He was indeed, really attractive and for a abbreviated instant, I imagined that I could put my blazonry around his shank, embrace him and kiss him.

His concluded lack of resistance encouraged my side by side movement. Amidst the swaying of the train bearing, as it rattled along its long dark burrow, I traced my digit up the fly of his pant, 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 strait of the gear and the existence around us were blotted-out as my heart pounded in my auricle and I was possessed of this Danton True Young man, held for the moment only by the natural language of his zip between my fingers.

In one slow but calm move, I pulled the zip all the way down as far as it would go and concord my breath. Again I hesitated, expecting resistance. But again, there was none. There was no going back now. I slid my manus inside the lovesome and inviting opening.
I now felt the softness of his blue Boxer shorts and the warmth and smoothness of his mole. Through soft cotton, I felt his clump, small and tightly bunched ;"a boy's formal ”, I thought. I searched for an opening to his shorts but I couldn't find one in the curtail space in which I was obliged to explore. But through the stuff, I could still experience the tuft of pubic whisker around the basis of his organ, now tough and erect across his right wing leg. My hand strained around inside the small space. His balls may experience been a boy's but his pecker was that of a man ; not particularly thick but surprisingly long -"especially for such a short gent ”, I thought.

Still through his flabby cotton plant pugilist short circuit, I could feel that he was already in a high state of excitement, soaking wet from the pre-cum juice I had already encouraged by my massage of him and by the sheer excitation of what I was doing to him. My fingerbreadth explored still further, this time inside the leg of his drawers, at last to identify and slide over the head of his puppet, now swollen and slippery, foreskin drawn back and oozing Sir Thomas More juices into the already soaked cotton of his shorts. At death, 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 headway between my thumb and forefinger, round and around, while I felt nervous pulse of excitement pass through my script. With each pulsation, the straits of his dick swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice.

The train stopped at the adjacent station, letting on even More hoi polloi at the early side of the carriage, obligingly pressing the two of us even more closely together. No-one could get known what hug drug was being shared between two Young men in the midst of their hum-drum journey to work. As we remained, almost face to face and squashed together in the crowded wagon train, as passenger jostled and pushed around us, I could palpate the warmth radiating from his soundbox. My middle absorbed the minute details of his face ; the slight dimple in his shaven chin, his slightly flushed boldness and his balmy eye-lashes ; even the private tomentum of his neat eye-brows and the lilliputian groin to the ripe his dilated nostrils, a nominal blemish in an otherwise flawless face. He was looking away from me, over my right shoulder, pretending to the external world that he was ignoring me but as I searched into his center, he briefly glanced into mine and I saw their color, plenteous brown, pupils dilated, before he blinked and switched his regard back to the far incline of the carriage.

Meanwhile, the skittish pulsing 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 on the sensitive underside of his solid, swollen and tricky instrument. He was certainly not trying to monish me and he must have realized, long before this point, where all this was leading.

All too soon, the fervour began to rise too a lot for him and he started to lose control. As my fingers slid around the slippy head of his harmonium, and my hand grasped the shaft, I felt that tell-tale throbbing as his liquid manhood was finally released into my helping hand ; once, twice….three……four……five…….six…….seven clock time, his organ pulsed in dim rhythmic expiration, as I felt lovesome juices penetrating the interruption between my fingers. I watched his face as his centre closed, his nostrils dilated and the slope of his neck flushed. His lips parted slightly as I felt his breast breath-in deeply and quietly let out a long, easy sigh. He swallowed hard.

I could hardly believe my skunk. This sexy young man had just allowed me to enter his about individual body territory secretly, in public, and had ejaculated into my script ; and all in the quad of a few minutes, the aphrodisiac little demon ! I continued to subscribe to all this in as best I could, slowly massaging his still erect and sticky organ, round and around in my hand amidst the wet bend of his underdrawers. Even now, he proffered no electric resistance. He even allowed me to caress his Ball and explore his groin again, as his organ began to slack up against my hand. I didn't want this to end ; it was too fantastic to be dead on target. But his cum was all over my hand and his boxer shortstop ; and there was so much of it.

But as if to bring us back to realism, we arrived at the next interchange station. I squeezed his lump affectionately and slid my hand out of his fly, considerately raising his zip most of the way to the top again, as if to deal my trail, while sparing him any embarrassment at the same sentence. As I removed my hired hand, he lightly touched it with his, and gently squeezed my fingers in a leave gesture of acknowledgment.

He got off the 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 mellisonant, salty taste of his orgasm all over the medallion of my right bridge player. And the intellection of those soaking wet, blue Boxer shorts !