[From Part 1: 'You're a very attractive man' said the complete stranger, 'and you have an incredible cock. I'd love to suck you off if that's OK with you.']
I was shocked and appalled but, as I mentioned previously, I am a courteous kind of guy. My mind raced to find a polite way of declining what I'm sure he considered a most generous offer.
'Umm ... I'm not gay' was the best I could manage.
'You don't need to be gay to enjoy a decent blow-job' he responded. 'And, trust me, I give excellent head.'
I should have replied with an emphatic no. Maybe I should have got up and moved as far away from him as I could. Maybe I should have pushed the emergency button and reported him for propositioning an innocent passenger. But I did none of these things. The best I could say was something absolutely ridiculous and that only gave him unintended encouragement.
'And where do you propose this heavenly blow-job should take place?' was my inane response. 'Right here on the train? Behind a tree in the station car-park? Or maybe in the lobby of the ticket office?'
'You got hard when I touched you' he said.
'Well, I didn't know whose hand it was. And I certainly didn't realised it belonged to a guy.'
'But you still enjoyed it' he insisted. And, after glancing at my lap, 'You're hard again now too.'
He was right. I hadn't even noticed but I was hard again; and leaking pre-cum too.
The train arrived at the terminus. I stood up to leave and placed my briefcase in front of me to hide both my flourishing erection and the tell-tale spots on the fabric around it. He preceded me as we alighted. I think I was in some sort of hypnotic trance. Seemingly mesmerised, I fell into step beside him and we passed through the barriers together. Still side-by-side, we walked to the dimly lit car-park.
'Where are you parked?' he asked.
I pushed the button on my car keys and my vehicle made obedient beeping sounds and flashed its lights some thirty yards away.
'Where are you parked?' I asked.
He smiled and suggested we go for a little drive in my car first, saying I could return him to the car-park afterwards.
'After what?' I enquired.
'After I've given you the greatest blow-job you've ever had. After I've sucked every drop of cum out of your beautiful hard cock. After you've begged me to blow you again.'
I was both stunned and alarmed. No way was I going to drive off with a complete stranger in the passenger seat - a guy who might be a serial killer who liked mutilating gullible young men. A guy who might thrust a chloroform-soaked rag to my face and then have his way with my virgin ass-hole!
'Tell you what' I said. 'You get into your car and I'll follow you to wherever you plan to go.'
'Promise?' he asked.
'Yes' I lied. My actual intention was to speed off in the opposite direction and hope never to encounter him again.
'OK' he agreed.
He went to a recent model Ford sedan and I gratefully slid behind the wheel of my Peugeot, immediately locking all the doors. I let him leave first, following him along the lane that led to the exit. He indicated right. I didn't indicate at all and I swear my intention was to turn left and hit the accelerator hard. That didn't happen, however.
It was a moment of folly, of sheer madness. My still half-hard cock made my mind up for me. I turned right and followed him into the night. After so much cock-teasing and dirty talk, I knew I was desperate to shoot a load. My choices were to drive home and jerk off over some porn or to follow this guy and let him take my load down his throat. I decided to walk on the wild side for once.
After a few minutes, he turned off the road and into a small parking area overlooking the estuary and a small jetty. It was deserted and well-screened from prying eyes. I pulled up alongside his vehicle and just sat there waiting. He opened his door and got out. He must have killed his inside light because it did not come on when he opened his door. He walked over and stood next to my window. I rolled it down.
'What now?' I asked.
'Disable your inside light and then I'll get in and sit beside you' he said.
I did as he suggested and then unlocked the doors. He got in and sat quietly staring ahead for a few moments.
'I've been watching you for quite a while' he said.
'Have you? Why? I don't think I've ever seen you before. Are you always on that train?'
'I moved down this way around six months ago. I always look for you on the train. I've also seen you at the mall and at the beach a few times.'
'Stalking me?' I exclaimed, somewhat startled. 'Why?'
'Dude, you're young, tall and impossibly handsome. And you have a beautiful body. You also have an enormous lunch.'
'Lunch?' I queried.
His hand moved to my thigh and then to my groin.
'This' he said. 'An impressive bulge. A nice lunch.'
'Oh' was all I could say in response.
'Let's adjust these seats so we're lying flat' he suggested.
I was still in a state of shock, I guess. But I was also still highly aroused and the hand at my groin was most persuasive.
'I don't even know your name' I blurted out. I specialise in inanities when I'm way out of my depth.
'Does it matter if you're sucked off by a stranger?' he teased. 'Do you need a formal introduction before I feast on you?'
Now the word "feast" sent a delicious shiver through me, but I still wanted to at least know his name.
'I'm Andrew' I said hurriedly.
'And I'm Martin' he responded. 'Does that help? Can I pull your pants down now?'
'How old are you?' I asked in an idiotic attempt to avoid what I knew to be inevitable.
'Does it matter how old I am?' he asked. 'Surely all that matters' - and here he unzipped my trousers and started to wriggle his hand inside - 'Surely all that matters is that we enjoy ourselves.'
'I'm twenty-six' I blurted.
'Fine. And I'm thirty-five for what it's worth. Now - can we put these seats back?'
The seats went back, my trousers and underpants went down to my ankles, and his hand commenced massaging my dick and cupping my balls in earnest. It felt fantastic. It was as though I was caught up in some erotic dream; a dream I didn't want to end.
Martin leaned over me, loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. He tweaked my nipples gently and then caught one with his lips, grazing it with his teeth and tongue. He moved his head further down my body and took my balls in his mouth one at a time, sucking delicately while his hand moved along the shaft of my dick. I was enjoying this immensely and growing desperate for him to take my cock in his mouth. Finally he did so.
He was expert at his craft. I had never experienced such a head-job. No girlfriend had ever taken as much of me to the very back of her throat and beyond. No female had ever been so skilled at ensuring that her teeth did not scrape against the delicate skin of my shaft. It wasn't long before I could feel the rush; the buzz that signalled an imminent ejaculation.
'I'm close' I gasped. 'I'm going to blow.'
He didn't pull away as I half-expected. He simply sucked me more firmly and even deeper into his throat as I erupted inside him. He pulled back a fraction to receive the first wave but he took all the subsequent spurts with my cock buried balls deep. I felt his throat move as he swallowed my cum. He kept me in his mouth until every last drop had been siphoned out of me.
'Wow' I said as he disengaged and lay back in his seat beside me.
'Wow indeed' said Martin. 'How long since you last came? That was a shitload you just delivered.'
'Umm - Well I usually jerk off at least once a day, often twice, but I was too tired to bother last night. And I had to skip it this morning as I slept through my alarm and was running late for the train.'
Another "Umm" escaped my lips as I asked if it tasted OK.
'Beautiful' he said. 'Like nectar.'
'No girl has ever said that to me. They all say it tastes nasty and they prefer not to swallow.'
'Girls know nothing about performing oral on guys' was Martin's response. 'They're better at giving oral to other girls. Only guys know how to give really good head. They know exactly what feels good and how to do it. And your dick is huge, pal. It's a cock-sucker's dream. It's perfect. So thick and so long. The biggest I've ever had the pleasure to meet. It demands expert attention like only a guy can provide.'
'It's an interesting theory' I said.
'More than a theory' Martin insisted. 'You said "Wow" after you shot that load down my throat. You loved it, didn't you? It was the best, wasn't it?'
I had to admit that it was. No point in denying it. I was already hard again just talking and thinking about it. So down Martin went again. I lasted longer this time and shot less cum, but it was no less exquisite.
Afterwards - with my pants pulled up properly and my "treasures" zipped away - I asked Martin what was in it for him. I had no concept that a guy might actually enjoy sucking cock. I explained that I was unable to reciprocate. He said not to worry about it. He said he had derived enormous pleasure from finally getting his hands on me.
'Plenty of time to worry about my needs when we're further down the track' he assured me.
'Further down the track?' I exclaimed. 'What do you mean? This is just a one-off thing, Martin. A moment of madness on my part. I'm not gay. I told you that. I have a steady girlfriend. I'm not up for a relationship with a guy. I'm sorry. And I'm grateful for what you just did for me, but no way am I up for regular gay sex and furtive blow-jobs in a car.'
He smiled and leaned towards me. He grasped the back of my head with both hands and placed his lips on mine. I pulled away. Actually, it didn't feel all that bad, but kissing a man seemed a step too far.
'Come on, Andrew' he teased. 'It's just a little kiss. It won't turn you all swishy and effeminate. It's the least you can do to thank me for a fantastic blow--job.'
So I reluctantly put my lips to his again. And I allowed my lips to part so we could engage in some tongue-duelling. I have to confess it felt good. It felt deliciously erotic and divinely decadent. Andrew Tait kissing a guy; and liking it. Who'd have thought?
And I could taste and smell my own cum as his tongue met mine. Just an hour earlier, I would have considered tasting my own juices an unlikely pleasure. I felt blissfully sinful and totally unrepentant. My assurances that there would be nothing "down the track" seemed suddenly hollow. Why go out of one's way to avoid the occasional mind-blowingly good head-job?
It was time to move on and head back to our respective houses for dinner and some sleep. I drove Martin back to the station so he could collect his car. Before getting out of my vehicle he asked for my cell phone number. I jotted it down for him on the back of an old parking receipt. And then, with a quick clasp of my thigh, he was gone.
I watched him drive off with my thoughts in a whirl. I was predominantly averse to the prospect of allowing such sinful frolics to reoccur. But I was intrigued too. My cosy, tight middle-class morality and conservatism had been challenged, and I couldn't help but wonder what else might transpire if he and I did go a little further down the track.
My last thoughts before falling asleep that night were of whether I'd feel embarrassed the next time I found myself in the same railway carriage as Martin and whether I would feel ashamed in the morning.
Of course, a stiff dick has no conscience. So my cock was gloriously hard again as it reflected on the pleasures experienced in Martin's mouth; and its ego was nicely inflated by the notion that it was - in Martin's opinion - "perfect". Very few of us are immune to flattery. My dick was definitely keen for a repeat encounter!