The
last entry I posted about my husband’s sexual past was nearly six weeks ago. It was not intended to be the last in the series;
there are others to follow, like the one below.
Now,
I’ve made out with a lot of different guys in a lot of different places – the
cruising grounds in Forest Park, my high school’s basement storage room, a
hotel room with a stripper, the open cab of a pick-up truck, office building
rooftops, the back rooms of bars and dance clubs. I’ve even done it in an alley off Times
Square on New Year’s Eve waiting for the ball to drop. Man, that as a cold night! Ian’s had his share of strange encounters too,
like this one on a NYC subway train.
Doing It on the Rockaway “A” Train
The summer
after my eighteenth birthday was not a particularly hot one, but the humidity
was often unbearable; relief was often difficult to find. Late one Friday night I was riding the “A”
train heading into the Rockaways to hook up with a friend for a little action,
but I never made it to see him. It was
after midnight by the time I reached the Broad Channel station where I had to
switch from the main line to a shuttle.
There was only one other guy on the platform. I could tell he was heading home from the
airport – he was wearing some kind of mechanic’s uniform that looked
uncomfortable in the humidity. He was
reading some book but every now and again I caught him looking over at me.
The shuttle
train pulled in after about fifteen minutes and there was no air
conditioning. I was so glad to be in loose
gym shorts and a muscle tank. I decided
to play a little with the airport guy.
Instead of getting in a different car, I got in the same car that he did
and took the seat across from him.
I leaned forward. “Got a cigarette?” I asked.
“No,” he
responded politely. “I don’t smoke.” He glanced up and couldn’t look away.
I have that
effect on guys sometimes. I slid forward
on the hard plastic seat, leaned back and, keeping my feet together spread my knees
wide apart, giving this guy a good look at my crotch. Since I wasn’t wearing anything under my
shorts, I was well aware that he could see my nuts.
After a tense
moment, he went back to his book, but I could tell it was a half-hearted
attempt, he kept looking at me over the top of his book. After about a half-minute, I leaned forward
again and took off my tank top.
“Man, it sure
is hot.” I wiped under my arms with my
shirt. “Even my balls are
sweatin’.” I reached down to my crotch
and scratched, pulling my shorts up and over.
I let my entire cock plop out of the leg opening and gave him the look
of a lifetime.
Suddenly the
train lurched to a stop. The lights
flickered off, then on, then off again.
A moment later the emergency lights came on.
The guy closed
my book, keeping my finger in between the pages, hoping the lights would turn
back on I guess. He cursed under his
breath. “Fuck; only in New York.”
Static crackled
over the antiquated public address system.
“—emporarily suspended due to an opening of the bay bridge. We regret the inconvenience.”
We were going
to be stuck for a while. He put a
bookmark between the pages and put the book in his knapsack. Then he pulled his uniform shirt out of his pants
and unbuttoned it completely. I noticed
that he adjusted his crotch. I was
having the desired effect. Time to step
it up a notch.
“That’s a good
idea,” I commented. “Get
comfortable. No reason not to in this
hot box.”
“You look
mighty cool and comfortable already,” he said, looking directly at me.
“Naw. To me, there ain’t nothin’ more comfortable
than wearing nothin’. When I’m home
alone, there’s nothing I like better than bein’ naked.” I grinned.
The guy gave my
cock a quick glance. “Go ahead,” he
said, trying to sound nonchalant about it.
“It’s only the two of us.
Besides, your dick is already hanging out. You know you don’t want to wear those
shorts.” I could tell it had taken a lot
of nerve to say that last bit, but it must have been an opportunity he did not
to pass up; I know I wouldn’t have.
I didn’t even
bother standing. In the dim emergency
lights I just lifted my ass off the hard plastic seat and pushed my shorts past
my knees. The shorts fell to the
floor. I stepped out of them, bent over,
picked them up and tossed them in the corner of the seat where I had dropped my
shirt. Then I sat back, opened my legs
wide and aired out my balls. In the
semi-darkness, I could tell he was adjusting his crotch again. His cock must have been hard. After all, I was giving him an unobstructed
view of my cock.
Just then, the
lights came back on full. I took that as
a kind of cue. I got up, took the two
steps over to where the airport guy sat and stood in front of him. I hooked my arms over the overhead hand bar
and just dangled there in front of him, smiling. My lengthening cock was within inches of his
hands. I could see the hunger in his
eyes.
The guy placed his
hand on my thigh and rubbed my leg from the back of my knee to my ass. He ventured a little closer to my crotch but avoided
my cock and my balls, preferring to glide his hand over my abs and up my
chest. I ran a fingertip over one of my
tits.
My cock jerked
a little at his caress.
“You know you
want it.”
He looked up at
my face.
I flashed
another smile. “Go ahead,” I
whispered. “Touch my cock. I know you want to.”
I was
right. He did. He took my not-quite-hard cock in his
hand. It grew harder at his touch and my
balls squirmed a little. It felt good having
my cock held like that, feeling it grow even harder. He started milking me, sliding his hand down
the shaft of my hard cock and back up again.
He placed his
free hand on my butt, and drew me in closer.
The tip of my cock brushed my chin as he leaned forward. I was sweating like a pig from the lack of
air conditioning in the stalled train car.
My cock was fully
hard now, arcing out from my groin. In the dim light of the car I could see his
cock was hard and wanted release from the confines of his uniform pants.
He let go of my
shaft and began to play with my balls, feeling the squishy goose eggs inside as
he kneaded the fleshy sack with his fingers and rolled them between the palms
of his hands. He gently pulled on my tender
sack until it was stretched as long as it could be, then he ringed my nuts with
his fingers and gently squeezed.
“Ummm, yeah,” I
moaned. “Pull on my nuts. Mash ’em good.”
Still holding my
balls tightly, he pulled my cock to his mouth.
I moaned loudly
and thrust my hips forward. My cockhead
slid against his tongue and hit his lips.
“Take it,” I said.
He opened his
mouth and I entered as he gave my balls another squeeze.
“Oh, yeah,” I
moaned. “That’s right, squash my
balls. It feels so-o-o good!” I leaned forward, sliding my swollen cock
further down his throat, trapping his head between the wall of the train and my
hairy stomach.
He had no
choice but to swallow me and he seemed to do so eagerly, sucking on me
greedily.
As I thrust my
cock in and out of his mouth, his hands seemed to multiply – they squeezed my
ass, pinched and twisted my hard nipples, pulled on my nutsack. Somewhere in the groping, he managed to unzip
his own pants, push them to the floor and release his hard cock from the
confines of his jockey shorts.
He brushed his
swollen cockhead against my knee with one hand and kneaded my ass with the
other. As my cock repeatedly pummeled his
tonsils, his fingers found my puckering hole and before long not only was he
fisting himself to my attack on his throat, he was also attacking my hole with his
finger.
The train
jerked forward a few inches. He held on
to my ass with both hands, making sure there was no way I was going to slip out
of his mouth.
The train
jerked forward again, then started moving slowly, picking up speed as it went.
Our pace
quickened. I could sense he was
close. Hell, I knew I was.
The train
stopped again just before it reached the Beach 90th Street station. My heart was pounding. Sweat rolled down my back and chest, slipped
down the cocksucker’s nose and plastered his shirt to his back.
The train
lurched again.
Just as the
train pulled into the station, I grabbed the guy’s head and shoved my cock as
far down his throat as it would go. He
gagged a little then relaxed. The
sweaty, musky smell around us must have driven him wild. He hugged my ass, trying to push my cock
further down his throat.
Grunting
wordlessly, I shot my load down his eager gullet just as the doors of the train
car opened. Anyone walking in would have
seen a sight – me, butt-naked with my cock down some willing guy’s mouth.
As I shot, cum
dribbled out of the corners of his mouth.
He stiffened, then his cock erupted, spraying warm cum all over my right
leg.
The doors
closed and the train moved on slowly.
After a moment,
he let my cock slip out of his mouth. We
were both a mess of spent cum and sweat.
I reached down and gave my playmate’s still-hard cock a playful squeeze.
The train
slowed as we approached Beach 98th Street.
I looked down at the nameless guy who had just blown me and smiled. “I haven’t had a blowjob like that in weeks,”
I said. “Sure wish I could return the favor or have that cock of yours up my
ass, but there isn’t any time. This is
where I get off.”
I hadn’t
intended the pun, and the moment the train doors opened I darted out and was on
the platform before the other guy could say a word. I stopped just short of the stairs, realizing
I had forgotten my clothes. I had just turned around and was about to rush for
the doors when they swooshed closed noisily.
I smacked them in frustration.
Sometimes the
train’s driver will open the doors again for a last-minute passenger, but not
this one. He must have seen me standing
there on the platform in all of my naked glory, but must not have cared for
anything except for his schedule.
That’s when I saw
him standing at the door trying to hold up his pants. He was holding my clothes and saying
something. I was trying to keep pace
with the train as it pulled out of the station to catch what he was
saying. Thank goodness I got his message
before the platform ended. I turned
around and headed for the staircase in the middle of the platform.
The lower level
waiting area was empty and the token booth faced away from the waiting
area. All I had to do was cross the four
or five feet to the exit and rush down the stairs to the street before the
token booth clerk looked over in my direction.
Thankfully, by the time he did look, the door was closing and all he saw
was my back.
I made it to
the street without incident and started walking under the “El” toward the next
station, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. I stopped a couple of minutes later to piss. I stood behind one of the huge concrete
support columns, faced a chain-link fence of a building that looked like a
school and began to pee. I was nearly
done when I saw him standing there, a few feet away watching. I let him look. When I was done I turned to face him and
asked him for my clothes. He gave me the
once over, and must have liked what he saw because he held on to my clothes and
invited me back to his place.
“You can have
them back later,” he said with a smile.
“My place is only a block and a half from here.” When I didn’t respond he gave me a queer little
look. “You did say you wanted me to fuck
you.” He came up close to me, reached down
with his empty hand, grabbed my semi-hard cock and gave it a little
squeeze. “Besides, I really would like
to go down on this again.”
As it turned
out, Chad, the airport worker, didn’t give me my clothes back until late Monday
morning.
I was never so
grateful that it was the weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment