Paul understood the unspoken rules for the commute over the subway. Rush hours meant cramming in as many commuters as possible, all while respecting each other’s personal spaces. A jostle here, a bump there, all were assumed incidental, and only egregious collisions warranted an “excuse me.”

Over the years, the faces became familiar, even if Paul never pursued an opportunity to know their names. He noticed one particular commuter during that time. They had the same routine, arriving at the station almost at the same time, and alighting at the same stop in the city. They even worked at the same building, although on different floors. Paul followed his fellow commuter numerous times, taking notice of his trim build, the way his tailored shirts hung over his rounded chest, tapering down to a slim waist. The commuter had shaggy brown hair and thick eyebrows, accentuating his prominent cheekbones.

Paul noticed how the stranger often had a pleasant countenace, as if he were about to break into a smile. Although he would never admit his attraction to him, Paul often selected whatever subway car the other commuter chose, want to linger around him even in just the margins.

But there were no margins in subway that day. The trains had a backup further down the line, leaving the platform crowded with people. Paul couldn’t locate his fellow commuter among the rest of them. Once the train finally arrived, Paul found himself swept inside from the flow of people, crammed against the far wall of the car. He turned around to press his back against the wall, and to grab a hold of the rail. And then he found his fellow commuter had been standing behind him the whole time.

The other commuters continued to press inside, leaving less and less room within the car. Soon Paul found himself pushed into the man’s backside. Their hands grabbed at the same rail, and Paul could feel the hairs of the other commuter’s forearm needling into his own. It was the first time he ever touched him, and even from that casual graze, he felt aroused.

The train lurched forward, causing everyone inside to pitch back. In the jostling, the other commuter brushed up against Paul, then drifted back into place. Paul had to keep his thoughts in check, not wanting the stranger to accidentally brush up against his swelling cock. It took considerable effort for Paul; the train trundled down the winding tracks, causing the other commuter to brush up against him over and over. Every time he did, Paul could feel the roundness of the stranger’s ass pressing into his crotch. And he could not be certain, but there were times when Paul did not feel the train turn around the bends of the track, and yet the stranger somehow drifted back against him.

Paul looked around to see if anyone else on board noticed their brush-ups, but the others remained oblivious, keeping the gazes away from any of the awkward exchanges they had with each other.

They arrived at their destination, and when the doors opened, the crowded spilled out, releasing the pressure inside. As the stranger followed the rest of the crowds, Paul hung back for a moment, hoping his growing erection would settle down. He walked tenuously, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide his cock. All the while, the stranger walked a few paces in front of him. Only when they reached their office building did the stranger break away for his elevator bank. But when he did he glanced back at Paul, his face suggesting just a hint of interest, as if he had been playing coy all the while.

Paul’s thoughts dwelled on the commute for hours. He replayed every detail in his head, analyzing the interactions to see if he could discern the stranger’s intentions. Work was the last thing Paul wanted to think about, and to relieve himself from his encounter on the train, Paul slipped out, heading for a restroom in the plaza below where he could masterbate privatey, away from his coworkers. He knew the restroom was secluded enough where he could quickly get off, and to his other coworkers it only appeared as if he were going out for coffee.

But when he got to the restroom, he found it was occupied with one other patron: the stranger from the train. The stranger stood at one of the urinals, staring at the wall.

As Paul approached their eyes locked onto each other. The stranger pulled back from the urinal, exposing his stiff cock while he stroked it with his hand.

While he had flashes of thoughts in his head—reasoning that he was in a public restroom, how easily he could be discovered—Paul could not resist the stranger’s cock. He strode over next to him, reached down and took the stranger’s cock into his hand. The stranger tilted his head back and closed his eyes, stifling his moans, not wanting to make any noises in public.

Then Paul reached down and took the stranger’s cock in his mouth. He ran his tongue, his lips down the length of the shaft. The stranger got on his tiptoes, pushing his cock further in Paul’s mouth.

Paul could feel the stranger’s hands run through his scalp, pulling his head into the stranger’s crotch. His chin grazed the stranger’s balls with each thrust. Paul’s hands went to work, cupping the stranger’s balls in one hand, while the other ran up the torso, planting on the stranger’s chest.

The stranger allowed only one gasp to escape before he came; they both understood they had to make it quick and quiet. Paul could feel the cock throbbing against his tongue as cum spurted to the back of his throat. He pulled away when the trobbing stopped, leaving a thread of saliva dangling between his chin and the tip of the stranger’s cock.

Paul looked up and saw the expression of uncontrollable pleasure etched into the man’s face, eyes closed, mouth open. They kissed, sharing the flavor of cum between their tongues.

“Thanks,” the stranger murmured. “I needed that.”

“Anytime,” Paul said.

As the nameless stranger slipped out of the bathroom, Paul wondered when he might see him again, certain that there will be another encounter to come.




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