I thought I would share a story with you; 100% true; I lie to you not.

A friend of mine, who also lives in Brighton, used to commute by train to London everyday for work. As you can imagine, my friend found this hour-long journey each way extremely tedious until an encounter that made the train ride into work the highlight of his day.

One morning, my friend (let’s call him Martyn, because that’s his name) happened to pick a seat next to a rather handsome, immaculately dressed, young, city-type. Martyn claims that he’s never felt such intense and immediate attraction to someone and be so certain it was mutual. There was a lot of eye contact, and smiling, but zero conversation. On that day I believe that Martyn must have become so frustrated over the years with the boring ride into London that he was ready to say “fuck it” and do something quite out of character. That, plus some serious adrenaline, must have caused him to do what he did next, which was to reach down under the fold-out table that his co-passenger was using to rest his laptop on, and place his hand on this man’s cock. Since the man’s only response was to give a small smile and carry on typing, Martyn knew there would be no objection to him unzipping the guy’s trousers and sliding his right hand through the flies and into Laptop Guy’s boxers, where he found a sizeable cock. This was confirmed to him when the guy’s cock started to harden, thicken, and swing into a vertical position. Martyn removed the cock from its trousers and started to wank Laptop Guy off. Martyn told me that this was one of the sexiest encounters he has ever had, made more sexy by the fact that he could not see this man’s cock beneath the table, but could only feel how nice and big it was.

It took some practice to be able to give good wank in this position, but he learnt to read Laptop Guy’s size of smile as an indication of the level of satisfaction he was providing. Apparently the guy looked at Martyn not once during this subterranean hand-job, and when Laptop Guy was getting close to shooting his load, he carefully took the serviette from underneath his coffee cup and placed this under the table, ready to capture his release, which he did without making a sound or a visible movement. He then wiped up, rather like someone dabbing the corners of their mouth after a meal, and gave Martyn one sideways glance, as if to say, “Thank you very much”.

This was to be the first of many such encounters. The two men frequently journeyed into the Capital together, and would always try and sit in the same two seats, taking it in turn to occupy the window seat; the point of this was that whoever was in this position would receive the hand-job, whereas it would have been too visible to the rest of the train for the one in the aisle seat to have his cock played with under the fold-out table.

This carried on for some time, the men never uttering so much as a word to each other, until one day, Martyn made a fatal error. One time he had shopped for some clothes in a London branch of famously cheap store that shall remain nameless. The problem was that when he got one of the garments home it was slightly damaged, so he took it with him the next morning in its original bag, with the intention of returning to the store in question. Now, he probably did not think much of it at the time, but that morning, when he had located Laptop Guy in their usual seats, he registered the horrified look on the guy’s face that Martyn should shop in such places. That was the last morning Martyn saw his train buddy, and it could just be a coincidence; surely someone couldn’t really be so shallow, could they?