Photo Story #74

I've had this idea in my head for a while - I'd love to know what you guys think of this one and whether this format is something you'd like to see more of in the future. Can you relate to this? Have you ever had a fleeting obsession with someone you've barely met? Let me know in the comments!

I'd been working in the city for years and enduring my long commute home on the underground for what felt like forever. I often ended up staying in the office late and was rarely home before ten.

The commute was always the same - walk to the tube station, wait for a train, force my way aboard, stand until a seat came free and slowly enjoy the sight of the carriage emptying as we got further from central London. Typically, by the time we reached the end of the line, I had a carriage to myself.

Commutes were spent playing games on my phone or reading, anything that kept me in my own little bubble, blocking out those around me.

But on a random September Monday, I was ripped from my bubble by one of the most incredible experiences of my life.

It was like any other night when I left the office, bag slung over my shoulder, tie loosened and desperate to get home, eat and strip out of my suit. The tube wasn't as busy as usual and I managed to get a seat in the middle of the carriage straight away.

Fifteen stops until home . . .

I flicked through my phone, wishing I could go on X or Insta and look at something to get my dick hungry, but there were too many people around, so I settled for some stupid farm game.

Fourteen stops . . .

A guy boarded the train and stood near the door, his suit trousers so tight that I could make out his brief lines. He wasn't the most attractive guy in the world, but seeing his brief lines made my dick twitch.

Thirteen stops . . .

The guy got off the train, but was replaced by an absolute god who'd clearly just finished a workout. His spandex shorts were longer than his actual shorts, but they still showed off his muscular thighs to perfection. There was still sweat on his forehead as he took a seat opposite me and spread his legs in that masculine way that says "I'll take up as much space as I want - my balls need it."

Twelve stops . . .

My phone was forgotten in my hand, my entire attention on the stud in front of me. He replied to a couple of messages on his phone before sliding it into his bag and leaning back, his arms folded behind his head, his biceps teasing me through the long sleeve sweater he was wearing. I wanted to smell his armpits, I wanted to lift his sweater and lick the sweat from his pecs.

Eleven stops . . .

The carriage had started to empty out, but the stud was still there. He'd closed his eyes and seemed to be settling in for a long ride. With his eyes closed, I did a quick look around me before sneaking a couple of photos for later. His bulge was begging for my attention and it took every ounce of self control not to get on my knees right there in the middle of the carriage.

Ten stops . . .

More people left the carriage and the god hadn't opened his eyes. Was he sleeping or was he just blocking out the world? I'd stared so much at his incredible legs that I could practically map his leg hair pattern from memory. I had never been so utterly besotted by a guy since I was a teenager. He was sheer perfection and I wanted him more badly than I'd ever wanted anything.

Nine stops . . .

I was convinced he was asleep. His breathing had slowed and his face had lost any tension. If it was possible, he looked even more perfect in sleep. I wondered what it would feel like to be so confident and comfortable with yourself that you could take up so much space on a train and just fall asleep, legs spread, body fully available for anyone to view, people like me perving on every part of him.

Eight stops . . .

At first, I thought I was imagining it . . . a shift in his crotch. His bulge was on full display, clearly a guy who had no qualms about everyone analysing every inch of him, but there was definitely a twitch . . . was he getting hard? No! I was just imagining things, willing to see him hard and throbbing before he woke up, locked eyes with me and invited me back to his place. I was just imagining it.

Seven stops . . .

There was no way I was imagining it. His cock was getting hard and it was pushing straight up. I was convinced he was asleep and maybe his body was reacting to a dream, or maybe it was just enjoying this post-pump endorphins, but his dick was definitely thicker. My eyes were locked on his crotch. I barely blinked, wanting to watch every second.

Six stops . . .

My mouth had filled with saliva at the sight before me. His cock was hard and I wanted to run my tongue over every beautiful inch. I wasn't sure if it was the movement of the carriage, but at one point, I thought it throbbed. Fuck, I wanted him!

Five stops . . .

Aside from a guy stood by the doors on his phone, the carriage is empty except for me and the man of my dreams, a man who is asleep and hard. The things I longed to do to him.

Four stops . . .

The guy by the doors has gone and it's just me and god! The atmosphere in the carriage feels electric. My hands are clenched into fists, my desire to touch him so strong that I daren't move for fear of doing something inappropriate. My own cock is just as hard as his, throbbing against the inside of my suit pants. I lick my lips as I watch his dick occasionally pulse, so desperate to touch it, to lick it . . .

Three stops . . .

I lean forward in my seats, my elbows resting on my knees. I'm just inches away from touching him, but I can't do it. What if I felt it and woke up? What if he caught me? Or what if he wanted me to? These thoughts warred in my brain, begging me feel him, begging me to get off the train, begging me to run away before I did something I regretted.

Two stops . . .

My hands are shaking. I hold them tightly together. I can feel the precum I've leaked inside my briefs, the soft cotton damp and warm against my cock. I'm surprised my lip isn't bleeding after biting down on it so often. The god continues to slumber - fuck, he's so . . . there are no words for what he is in that moment. We're nearly at the end of the line. I'll have to wake him. Or perhaps he'll wake of his own accord?

One stop . . .

The carriage is still empty and I can feel the train slowing into its final destination . . . my final destination. He's still hard. I'm still hard. He's still asleep and I've never been more awake in my life, my entire body feeling like it's running on electricity. I want to touch him before we never see each other again, but I can't bring myself to breach consent, to take advantage . . . and then he wakes. His beautiful eyes flutter open and lock on to mine. I feel like I've been caught doing something unbelievably perverted . . . which I guess I have, but he smiles, a smile that is equal parts hungry and satisfied.

"So, are we going to yours or mine?" he says, in a deep voice that sends shivers down my spine.

I stare dumbfounded. "Excuse me?"

"You've been fucking me with your eyes since I sat down. Only fair that I get to fuck you in return."

The train stops, the doors hiss open and he stands, throwing his back over his shoulder. He offers me his hand.

"So, are you coming?"

My dick throbbed and I nodded. Yes, yes I was!