It was the height of the morning rush hour and I was about to change tube trains. To be honest, 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 squeeze onto the next train to come in.
So when the next train arrived and the crowds milled around, imagine 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; slim, clean-shaven, with short-cut, dark brown hair and deep brown eyes.
Quite cute, in fact.
He carried in one hand a copy of the Independent and was wearing a long, black-and-white herringbone overcoat over a dark suit. The coat was open.
From the moment we boarded, the train was so crowded that it was impossible not to be touching one another. We were standing facing more-or-less right shoulder to right shoulder and the back of my umbrella hand was touching 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 feel clearly wasn't something in his pocket and my curiosity soon began to get the better of me.
As the train carried on, I allowed the natural swaying of the carriage to permit me one or two exploratory 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 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 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 left hand.
This had the effect of further opening his coat and shielding us from view. He was holding his newspaper in his right 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 hand and well-shielded from the crowd by his coat, I deliberately felt him with my fingers. By now, he was not so much 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 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 head of his organ through the material of his trousers and I began to imagine what it must look like. There being no stops on this side of the train for a while, I took the opportunity at the next station to free my hand of my umbrella by slipping the handle into the opposite 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 thrill, as if a circuit had been connected between us.
Now my right hand was completely free to explore the full extent of his erect and fully extended organ. I massaged him through his trousers, absorbing the excitement of the moment and the thrill of this lovely young man under my power and offering no resistance. My heart began to pound 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 hair around his ears 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 arms around his waist, embrace him and kiss him. His complete lack of resistance encouraged my next move. Amidst the swaying of the train carriage, 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 tongue of his zip and held it, momentarily hesitating, expecting his rejection. There was none. All the sounds of the train and the world around us were blotted-out as my heart 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 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 blue boxer shorts and the warmth and smoothness of his groin. Through soft cotton, I felt his balls, 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 restricted space in which I was obliged to explore.
But through the material, I could still feel the tufts of pubic hair around the base of his 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 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 shorts, I could feel that he was already in a high state of excitement, soaking wet from the pre-cum juices 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 shorts, at last to discover and slide over the head of his tool, now swollen and slippery, foreskin drawn back and oozing more juices into the already soaked cotton of his shorts.
At last, 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 head between my thumb and forefinger, round and around, while I felt nervous pulses of excitement pass through my hand. With each pulse, the head of his tool swelled and oozed another drop of slippery juice. The train stopped at the next station, 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 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 train, as passengers jostled and pushed around us, I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
My eyes absorbed the minute details of his face; the slight dimple in his shaven chin, his slightly flushed cheeks and his soft eye-lashes; even the individual hairs of his neat eye-brows and the little mole to the right 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 world 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 gaze back to the far side of the carriage. Meanwhile, the nervous 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 slippery 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 excitement began to prove too much for him and he started to lose control. As my fingers slid around the slippery head of his organ, and my hand grasped the shaft, I felt that tell-tale throbbing as his liquid manhood was finally released into my hand; once, twice&hellip.three……four……five…&hellip.six…&hellip.seven times, his organ pulsed in slow rhythmic release, as I felt warm juices penetrating the gaps between my fingers.
I watched his face as his eyes closed, his nostrils 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 long, soft sigh.
He swallowed hard. I could hardly believe my senses. This sexy young man had just allowed me to enter his most private body territory secretly, in public, and had ejaculated into my hand; and all in the space of a few minutes, 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 hand amidst the wet folds of his shorts.
Even now, he proffered no resistance. He even allowed me to caress his balls and explore his groin again, as his organ began to relax 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 shorts; and there was so much of it.
But as if to bring us back to reality, we arrived at the next interchange station. I squeezed his balls affectionately and slid 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 parting 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 sweet, salty taste of his orgasm all over the palm of my right hand. And the thought of those soaking wet, blue boxer shorts!