Saturday, 15 October 2011

Sexual Adventures of Steve BLUF - Part 7

The station was mostly empty this late in the night. The man helped Steve ride the escalator down to the vacant platform. A couple of minutes later the train pulled up and they entered the last car. A chubby man in a business suit sat alone in the middle of the car, legs stretched out. His eyes popped out round when he saw Steve and the man enter. The business man's round face had a smooth complexion with no signs of a five o'clock shadow. He looked young but his gray hair and receding hairline hinted at more years.

The man guided Steve to a seat across from the business man. Together they sat down. Steve moaned as the man's finger dug into his anus. Steve turned his hips slightly, leaning into the man's side. He kissed the man's hairy cheek, working his way to the lips. The man turned his head and opened his mouth to Steve. They kissed with abandon. Steve continued manhandling their loins, unaware that they were being watched. The man, however, kept his eyes locked on the business man.

The business man shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to look away. He had never seen anything like this before. He dabbed sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, gulped a few times, and rubbed his thighs nervously. He stole a quick glance when the train pulled up at the next platform. It was empty. He was sweating profusely now. He removed his jacket and loosened his tie, unconsciously spreading his legs apart. A round bulge formed in his pants. It rose like the center pole of a tent. He didn't want to be aroused. He had always thought homosexuality was sick. But he couldn't help himself. His body had a mind of its own. He groped himself, following the rhythm of Steve's hands. Then he undid his fly and a nice cock rose up from the depths. It was smooth skinned like the man's face. The round head a shiny pink. He stroked his cock hesitantly. It was a sin, he had always been told. He hadn't masturbated since his teens. He noticed then that he was stroking himself with his left hand. He gasped and threw his hands to his sides. He had felt his wedding ring against his penis.

He struggled to regain control, to look away. The men's lips and tongues, the groping, the exposed white jockstrap, and the hand in the jeans were captivating. The mutual moans invited him to join the fun. Before he knew it, his left hand was pumping his cock again. He felt the ring dig into his shaft. It felt good. The whole thing felt good. I must stop, he thought to himself, but his heart wasn't in it. He wanted to feel good. He hadn't felt good in such a long time he had forgotten what it was like. He dug his other hand into his open fly and pulled out his balls. He caressed the smooth scrotum and squeezed the round testes. "Oh, that feels good," he moaned, staring at the big man who was staring at him.

Continued Tomorrow

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