The Hand
In my early twenties and working in London - the daily commute to and from work on crowded underground trains had to be endured. One of the problems a young guy has is that he can get an erection any time for no particular reason, and there is nothing to do but wait for it to go down.
On this occasion it is a particularly hot day and the tube is, as usual, crammed full so that it is impossible to move, and I am hanging onto the strap to steady myself. As the train sways from side to side as it rattles down the tunnel my cock decides to start getting stiff, probably from rubbing up against other bodies. I try to move so that it is not rubbing other passengers but this seems to make it worse - I can feel the heat of the erection in my pants as my cock grows stiffer with engorged blood and makes a bulge in the front of my trousers. Fortunately no one can see as the train is crowded, but then I feel something brush over the front of my trousers. I try to move away but there is no room. What I assume is an accidental contact then happens again, but this time it is no accident.
I feel fingers running over my trousers along the length of my cock. Desperately I look around to see who it is, but I am surrounded by impassive faces – men, women, young and old. We are so squashed together I can’t even look down to see the hand. What can I do? The hand continues to massage my ever hardening cock until it is rigid and trying to burst out of my trousers. Relief as we pull into a station, but only a couple of people get out and half a dozen more get in, so we are crushed closer together.
As the train starts to move again I feel the hand find my zipper and pull it down. I am sweating now, not just with the heat, but with the excitement and the risk. The hand is inside my trousers holding my erection through my boxer shorts. I feel the hand move along my cock feeling the girth until it reaches the end and then it feels the shape of the helmet, with gentle fingers running all over the swelling. It strokes the sensitive area under the head with gentle fingers – this is someone who knows what to do. The sensations are growing – my cock throbbing with desire to unload. The hand reaches inside my boxer shorts and drags the stiffness out into the open and I gasp at the situation which is out of control. I dart my eyes around still frantically looking for the owner of the hand. I don’t know what I do if it is a man, but I can’t tell.
My cock is being stroked expertly, with the hand running along the length, resting at the end where it tickles the already over-sensitive head before running back down the shaft. It gently lifts my balls as though feeling the weight and a finger slides behind between my legs and then slowly the hand moves back to my cock to stroke the length. The pressure is just right, not too hard but just enough to move the skin and excite the nerves. I can’t take much more of this and my cock is already throbbing with impending climax. I can’t stop it even if I want to (do I want to?) as there is a point beyond which no man wants to go back. I close my eyes as the sweat runs off me – all I can think about is my rigid erection and the sensations of the hand stroking its length. There must be emissions of pre-cum as I feel the hand sliding easily over my helmet with the copious lubrication.
As any guy will tell you, there comes a point when the focus of the mind is entirely on the cock as the climax approaches. The world disappears, and so it is with me – my eyes are tight shut and I am no longer conscious of anyone on the train, or even that I am on a train. My cock is throbbing and super-sensitive almost to the point of pain. The hand must sense this as it slows down and concentrates on the head in exquisite rubs along the underside. My mind is in turmoil; my whole world is the end of my cock. The final point of no return is reached with no conscious effort from me and there is no longer anything I can do about it; I am no longer in control, it is going to happen, and very soon. The sensations spread out from my cock into my crotch and down my thighs and into my stomach as I feel the first load approach. My cock hardens, my balls contract, and then the feeling of intense ecstasy as I release my cum – a jet shoots up and out, and another, and another, and still more – I almost faint while standing and hang tightly onto the strap - it’s all I can do not to cry out – my cock spasms as gush after gush of my sperm is shooting out all over the place. The hand is still milking me, keeping the climax going, causing more jet after jet of cum to shoot out until my balls ache and I am empty.
Anticlimax. We reach my station in the West End and everyone starts to get off. I am in a panic – the hand has gone and my dripping semi-hard cock is hanging out of my trousers, I hurriedly stuff it away and try to zip up. I can feel the mess on my trousers and wonder how many people got to work with my load all over their clothes.
Did you get to work with a sticky mess on you? !
On this occasion it is a particularly hot day and the tube is, as usual, crammed full so that it is impossible to move, and I am hanging onto the strap to steady myself. As the train sways from side to side as it rattles down the tunnel my cock decides to start getting stiff, probably from rubbing up against other bodies. I try to move so that it is not rubbing other passengers but this seems to make it worse - I can feel the heat of the erection in my pants as my cock grows stiffer with engorged blood and makes a bulge in the front of my trousers. Fortunately no one can see as the train is crowded, but then I feel something brush over the front of my trousers. I try to move away but there is no room. What I assume is an accidental contact then happens again, but this time it is no accident.
I feel fingers running over my trousers along the length of my cock. Desperately I look around to see who it is, but I am surrounded by impassive faces – men, women, young and old. We are so squashed together I can’t even look down to see the hand. What can I do? The hand continues to massage my ever hardening cock until it is rigid and trying to burst out of my trousers. Relief as we pull into a station, but only a couple of people get out and half a dozen more get in, so we are crushed closer together.
As the train starts to move again I feel the hand find my zipper and pull it down. I am sweating now, not just with the heat, but with the excitement and the risk. The hand is inside my trousers holding my erection through my boxer shorts. I feel the hand move along my cock feeling the girth until it reaches the end and then it feels the shape of the helmet, with gentle fingers running all over the swelling. It strokes the sensitive area under the head with gentle fingers – this is someone who knows what to do. The sensations are growing – my cock throbbing with desire to unload. The hand reaches inside my boxer shorts and drags the stiffness out into the open and I gasp at the situation which is out of control. I dart my eyes around still frantically looking for the owner of the hand. I don’t know what I do if it is a man, but I can’t tell.
My cock is being stroked expertly, with the hand running along the length, resting at the end where it tickles the already over-sensitive head before running back down the shaft. It gently lifts my balls as though feeling the weight and a finger slides behind between my legs and then slowly the hand moves back to my cock to stroke the length. The pressure is just right, not too hard but just enough to move the skin and excite the nerves. I can’t take much more of this and my cock is already throbbing with impending climax. I can’t stop it even if I want to (do I want to?) as there is a point beyond which no man wants to go back. I close my eyes as the sweat runs off me – all I can think about is my rigid erection and the sensations of the hand stroking its length. There must be emissions of pre-cum as I feel the hand sliding easily over my helmet with the copious lubrication.
As any guy will tell you, there comes a point when the focus of the mind is entirely on the cock as the climax approaches. The world disappears, and so it is with me – my eyes are tight shut and I am no longer conscious of anyone on the train, or even that I am on a train. My cock is throbbing and super-sensitive almost to the point of pain. The hand must sense this as it slows down and concentrates on the head in exquisite rubs along the underside. My mind is in turmoil; my whole world is the end of my cock. The final point of no return is reached with no conscious effort from me and there is no longer anything I can do about it; I am no longer in control, it is going to happen, and very soon. The sensations spread out from my cock into my crotch and down my thighs and into my stomach as I feel the first load approach. My cock hardens, my balls contract, and then the feeling of intense ecstasy as I release my cum – a jet shoots up and out, and another, and another, and still more – I almost faint while standing and hang tightly onto the strap - it’s all I can do not to cry out – my cock spasms as gush after gush of my sperm is shooting out all over the place. The hand is still milking me, keeping the climax going, causing more jet after jet of cum to shoot out until my balls ache and I am empty.
Anticlimax. We reach my station in the West End and everyone starts to get off. I am in a panic – the hand has gone and my dripping semi-hard cock is hanging out of my trousers, I hurriedly stuff it away and try to zip up. I can feel the mess on my trousers and wonder how many people got to work with my load all over their clothes.
Did you get to work with a sticky mess on you? !
6年前
