The Stranger on the Last Train Looked at Me Without Hiding It

A couple of weeks ago I met up with some friends downtown for dinner and drinks. I live on the outskirts, in one of those areas only the commuter train reaches, so unless I’m going out for the night and staying out until dawn, I try not to linger too long. After a certain hour the trains stop running and I’m stuck there.

That night, around one in the morning, I went down to the station to wait. The platform was almost deserted. I counted three people, scattered across the benches, each staring at their phone as if the rest of us didn’t exist. The cold was seeping in under my jacket and all I wanted was to sit down and get home.

The train arrived a few minutes later. Those carriages have seats arranged in groups of four, facing each other, and others lined up along the sides, leaving a central aisle. My carriage was completely empty, which was normal at that hour on a weekday. I sat in one of the four-seat sections, at the end, so I could stretch my legs and keep the whole carriage in view at a glance.

One, two, three stops passed. Nobody got on and nobody got off. The platforms stayed empty, at most an isolated silhouette under the white lights. I settled back against the window, half asleep from the wine at dinner and the rattling of the train.

A few stations later, a man got on. He must have been in his early forties, very bundled up, with a gray scarf covering half his face. He sat in the central aisle, in the single seats, and I doubt he noticed me at first: I was leaning against the window, hidden between the seat backs. I could see him perfectly, though, through the gap between the seats.

I watched him take off his scarf and unbutton his coat. Ordinary face, clean-shaven, nothing that would catch your eye on the street. He left the scarf on the next seat and, just as the train pulled off again, turned his head toward me. I looked away at once. I don’t like people thinking I’m staring at them.

After a minute I noticed that he was looking at me. Not constantly, but more than once our eyes met in that murky reflection in the window. Little by little I saw him lean his head back and close his eyes. I thought he was falling asleep. The strange thing was that he was doing it while biting his lip, letting out the occasional stifled grunt.

I lowered my gaze toward the gap between the seats and then I understood. He had his hand inside his trousers and was touching himself. I stared, wide-eyed, not knowing what to do, but unable to stop looking. This can’t be happening to me.

Just then he opened his eyes and caught me. I jerked and fixed my eyes on my phone, pretending I hadn’t seen anything. But it was too late. He knew I’d been watching him and, far from getting embarrassed, he grabbed his scarf and changed seats. This time he moved closer, taking another four-seat section just a few meters from me. Now he was almost opposite me, separated only by a couple of seat backs.

As soon as he sat down, without thinking about it too much, he unzipped his trousers and exposed a fairly bulging dark pair of briefs. He started stroking himself over the fabric, slowly, never taking his eyes off me. I kept shifting my gaze between his eyes and his crotch. The whole thing turned me on like crazy, in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. He was already hard without even having touched himself properly, and my mouth was watering.

The bulge kept growing under his hand until he slowly pulled the waistband of the briefs down. First a patch of dark hair appeared, and then, right after, a thick, uncircumcised cock, rock hard, with a good-sized pair of balls hanging beneath it. He let out a puff of breath when he saw himself exposed, pleased to know he was being watched.

I couldn’t help letting out a sigh when I saw him masturbating like that, slowly, revealing the wet head with each stroke. He smiled back at me and, with a tilt of his head, invited me to come closer. I blushed at once. I hesitated. I was wary that someone might get on at the next stop, even though we’d gone a good while without seeing a soul. But the thrill won out. I stood up and moved to the seat directly across from him.

“Hi...” I said with a shy smile.

“How’s it going? Looks like you like what you see,” he replied without stopping touching himself.

“And it looks like you like being watched,” I shot back, bolder than I’d expected.

“I also like getting a helping hand,” he said, letting go of his cock with a low laugh.

So that’s what I did. Without saying anything else, I grabbed his dick and started jerking him off slowly. His face was pure pleasure. I could feel his body loosening against the backrest, his legs opening a little wider. The train kept moving, station lights slid past, and there we were, in the middle of that empty carriage.

“I can see you’re licking your lips a lot,” he said after a while. “Want to taste it or what?”

“I’m not going to deny it... but I didn’t know whether to,” I admitted.

“That’s not something you ask. You just do it,” he replied, laughing.

Despite how tight the space was between the seats, I managed to kneel in front of him. He pulled his trousers down to his ankles and spread his legs to give me more room and a better view. Having it at face level made it seem even bigger, and the urge to eat it up multiplied.

I started with his balls, which hung down almost to the edge of the seat. With each lick they lifted and fell while I kept jerking him with my hand. A few seconds later he grabbed my jaw and guided my head toward his cock.

“You’ve already slobbered enough on the balls,” he said in a serious tone, but loaded with filth. “Now it’s the other thing’s turn.”

First I licked his foreskin, sliding my tongue in and out beneath the skin. Then I ran my tongue all the way up his cock, from the base to the exposed head, collecting a drop of liquid that was already beading there. And finally I took the whole thing into my mouth. He let out a rough groan and I knew I was on the right track.

I kept sucking without hurry, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster, moving my head up and down nonstop. He kept snorting, stroking my hair, murmuring that yes, like that, just like that. I was hard as a rock, my briefs were wet, and I had an overwhelming urge to pull it out and jerk off at the same rhythm.

After a few minutes he held my head by the sides and started thrusting hard. I couldn’t help gagging a little when he pushed all the way in, until my nose was pressed against his pubic hair. He kept me like that for a few seconds, until I could barely breathe and had to pull away suddenly, leaving a string of saliva hanging between my mouth and his cock.

While I caught my breath, he scooped up that same spit with his hand and started jerking off again, this time fast. And almost without warning he came in three spurts that splashed his sweater, biting down on his fist to stifle his moans. I was left gaping, stunned, not knowing what to say. He, without losing his satisfied smile, pulled his trousers back up and got ready to get off.

“What a mouth you’ve got,” he said, settling his clothes. “If you hadn’t moved away, I’d have filled your throat.”

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have moved,” I replied, still breathing hard.

The train began to slow as it entered the station. He picked up his scarf and stood.

“Thanks for making the ride more pleasant, handsome,” he said, winking at me.

“I hope it happens again,” I answered.

The doors opened, he got off onto the platform, and disappeared up the stairs without looking back.

***

I was still completely horny. I hadn’t gone down even a little. I went back to my original seat, checked the carriage again with my eyes, and, convinced I was alone, pulled down my trousers and started jerking off hard, replaying everything I had just experienced in my head. The saliva, the weight of his cock in my mouth, the way he looked at me without hiding it from the other seat.

I barely lasted a few minutes. I came with an intensity I hadn’t felt in a long time, staining my clothes. Thank God I had tissues in my pocket and could clean myself up a bit before reaching my stop.

I stood up to do up my trousers and then I noticed something. At the far end of the carriage there was another person. He must have gotten on at the previous stop, while I was too wrapped up in my own thing to notice. Luckily, he seemed absorbed in his phone and gave no sign of having realized anything.

I got off at my station with my legs still trembling and a smile I couldn’t shake. Since then, every time I take the last train at night, I can’t help sitting at the end, with a view of the whole carriage, in case luck decides to sit across from me again.