- Train Connections
I have read about hot times that other guys have had on trains. But you know me well enough by now to know that I would be too cautious to get into any real intense scene in a public place. But trains do have a sensual fascination for a lot of people. Apparently the motion, the anonymity, the boredom, all contribution to feelings of horniness. In thinking back over my experiences on trains I recall one outrageous young guy who got on a New York City subway train during rush hour wearing the tightest most revealing white shorts with an enormous hardon stretched across one thigh. It was hard not to look. Of course it was also hard when I did look. I was strangely embarrassed for the many workaday folks sitting around, heads down avoiding the sight. At one point he was standing, holding on to an overhead bar, with an old tired woman seated beneath him. Her glazed, weary eyes did not appear to see the plump white sausage in the shorts at her eye level. I guess I'm just too tight-assed in public. Who knows, maybe it made her day.
Another exhibitionistic train guy was a young man who got on to a crowded train, leaned against a door, and then proceeded to fuck me with his eyes. As I stared, spellbound, he slowly opened one button at a time on his shirt until his chest was almost fully revealed. It was not as strange as it sounds, because it was a very warm summer day and the train car was not air conditioned. But it was more than comfort that he was after. With just a few simple gestures, the baring of a well developed chest, significant looks with his eyes, and a final squeeze of his basket, that young man transported me to heaven, or at least made the boring subway ride much more interesting. That experience allows me to understand how Gypsy Rose Lee had such appeal, while actually showing so little. It's all in the way you do it, the mind-fuck.
And then there was the druggy who popped pills as he rubbed his ample basket next to me on the train to the Fire Island Ferry. He was ready to play, despite the fact that there were people quite close by. He correctly assessed me as interested but chickenshit, so he gave up on me after a while and just closed his eyes to bathe himself in his drug haze. He swallowed an enormous number of pills during that relatively short ride, that it was surprising he could make it through the door when we arrived at the Sayville station.
A favorite train remembrance of mine was when I was returning home from work one evening quite late, travelling on my local commuter railroad. The cars were nearly empty. I flopped down in the first seat near the door, a double-seater, with three spaces on each side facing each other. One other commuter was seated in that section of the train, a few rows back. I removed my jacket and folded it on to the seat next to me, loosened my tie and settled in for the hour long trip. At an intermediate stop, a young man boarded the train and sat in the middle seat facing me. I took little notice of him, apart from casual notice of his unusually good looks. Quite a long time ago there was a Calvin Klein ad of a young guy, naked to the waist, leaning back with a wet face, eyes closed and wet straight hair combed back from his face? This guy looked like that model. He wasn't stripped to the waist of course, but there was a remarkable facial resemblance. In other words, he was model-class gorgeous. He wore a pair of black jeans and an open necked light colored shirt. He carried a black cloth jacket which he threw across his lap. In retrospect I realize that it was odd for him to sit across from me when the car was practically empty, but at the time I suppose I just figured he collapsed in the first convenient spot near the door, just as I had done.
I was daydreaming, too tired to concentrate on the newspaper in front of me. The "model" slumped down into his seat, legs extended over to my side and closed his eyes. Within minutes he moved his jacket up a little and put his hand on his crotch. Well, not so unusual, lots of guys rest in that protective posture. Then I began to notice a very slow massaging of the bulge in his pants. I could hardly believe my eyes. As the ride continued, my fellow passenger treated me to one of the most sensuous self-gratification shows that I have experienced. He opened his eyes a bit, looked over at me in a faux sleepy way, and determined my degree of attention and interest. When he was sure that I was looking and interested, he went to town. The jacket went up to his stomach, which he slowly rubbed and scratched. The cock, which was clearly outlined (definitely no CK or any other kind of underwear) rose majestically and stretched the fabric. Model boy outlined it with two fingers, and then played with the tip with one finger. Then he squeezed the whole package and bent it back into an unnatural arched position. All of this time, he pretended to be dozing. From time to time his lidded eyes would open a bit, and he would look over at me. He could clearly tell that I was more than interested. My face must have revealed surprise, excitement, even amazement at what was occurring. I was wide awake now, and felt the blood pounding. My face felt warm and red. Model boy cooled it when the ticket taker came through, rousing himself and slowly producing his ticket in a casual, sleepy way. What an actor! I tried to get him to look at me. You show me yours and I'll show you mine. I rubbed and pinched and groped myself, but model boy looked away. Not interested in your pathetic dick, guy, I'm the show around here. I wish I could report that this scene escalated into hot sex in the toilet, or at least mutual groping, but alas, model boy never even took his cock out of his pants. I had to change trains after about forty minutes, and although I hoped for a big finish as I got up, like maybe he would unzip and flash me a smile and a glance of uncovered dick, it didn't happen. I left the train flushed, excited and wide awake but far from satisfied.
Now what do you suppose would make a handsome young guy carry on like that for the pleasure of a middle aged stranger on a train? I suppose he was a true exhibitionist and gets his jollies through the flustered excitement that guys like me show him. I ride that train often but never saw model-boy again.
The boldest that I ever got on a train was one evening on my commuter train when a college aged guy cruised me as he walked through the cars. I had been reading an erotic book and was horny. When he came through a second time, I rubbed myself, and he sat down next to me. The young dude had reddish brown curly hair, freckles and an overall youthful, innocent look. Except for his eyes, which were alert and hungry. I could hardly believe this was happening. So what do I do now? Well, I looked around and seeing only a few disinterested riders some distance away, I tried a little kneesies. That worked, with appropriate pressure returned, and I was thinking about whether I should try a more intimate touch. The kid had little patience with this slow process, and without further delay reached over and grabbed my cock. In due time I returned the favor and we sat massaging hardons through out pants for a pleasant ten minutes or so. Abruptly, the kid got up and left as unexpectedly as he had arrived.