Handsoff

It started, as magical occurrences sometimes do, in the most mundane and febrile of spaces: the imagination of a mid twenties woman riding an elevated commuter train across town with no particular urgency.

***

Lily:

If you asked me, I'd say the day was going delightfully well. On the second "weekend" day of my 10 on/4 off schedule, I'd woken up late, scrambled into fit, and taken the train downtown to get lunch with my dear friend Emily (Emeline, but never call her that) on her lunch break.

An hour (maybe a teensiest amount over her break) and some delicious if overpriced cocktails later (two for me, one for her. Responsibility!) I was back on the L-train and indulging myself in my favorite pastime: tipsy people watching. Headphones in of course, keeps the less aggressive Lotharios at bay.

Being early in the afternoon, the train was lightly populated, but there were still enough people around to build up some steam with my internal monologue.

"Fit pair, dressed well, holding hands with interlocked fingers, and some steamy glances. Do I spy some dust patches on the knees of her slacks? Bet they think they're hiding the office romance so well by taking 'working' lunches, and that no one knows she's blowing him on company time. Really obvious if you enter a room with your hair down and leave with a slightly mussed ponytail, hun." Not that I'm judging. World could totally use a bit more acceptance and spice to it, so long as no one's getting hurt.

"Bag of tools, tradesman? Big hands, oh wedding ring. Wiry, scrappy looking fella, bet his wife is nice and thick. She either rides him into the ground, or they've got something kinky going. Probably good with 'tools' and knots. *Great* spanking hands, I could use some of that!"

I squirm a bit in my seat, feeling my core start to stoke, then sigh happily. Going to frig myself into oblivion later and I can already tell it'll be a good one!

The train slows and stops, the shadows of the station roof playing across the car. Door opening announcement, then new meat trickles into the car: "Older woman, couple of teenagers, chunky IT guy, ooo! Is that a walk of shame on a Tuesday? Scandalous!"

The tall lady in the slightly wrinkled tube dress and unmatching flats sadly sits behind me somewhere, putting her off the table for further evaluation. Chunky IT guy looks around, dark eyes crossing me (nervously?) then sits in front of me in one of those seats next to the door that faces inward/across the train, giving me a solid profile from where I am.

Well, I'll look a gift horse in the mouth, I suppose.

"Short, dark hair, but enough to grip if you need to. Glasses, full lips and a very recent, neat trim on the beard. Button-down shirt, open at the collar with an extra button showing some thicker chest hair. Sleeves *professionally* rolled up showing some muscle in those arms! Hm, maybe not chunky, lets upgrade him to husky. Bit of a belly in that shirt, but hey, carbs are the best."

IT Guy (Capitalized cause it's his name now, ok?) shifts and stretches his leg out to get his phone out of his pocket, starts to read something.

"Solid thigh movement there, those slacks *fit*. Is that a hint of bulge I detect? Thicc thighs are like a pushup bra for a package, but there's some nice curvature."

I shrug mentally and dive into the fantasy review.

"So, fat/fit. Probably a bit shy, but enthusiastic. Looks to be 25ish, same as me? Done with college, in the workforce... but off at 1PM on a Tuesday? Dressed up a bit... Interview! Rolled sleeves, no tie, already had it. Bit of an intense look, so he's probably overthinking it. Bet he'd snap out of it if I moved over there and put my hand on his cock."

Squeezing my thighs together and humming slightly, I lose focus and slip into the scene now that I've built it up.

Finger on my lips, I'd reach over with my left hand and cup right over his fly. Soft of course, cuz this is a total surprise, but warm and squishy in that way only a soft cock is. He'd startle, almost panic, but I'd give him a smile to reassure him. Trace him from tip to root through his pants, casually weighing and measuring. Seems a nice size, maybe larger balls? Feeling his dick harden against the fabric, watching the panic turn to worried pleasure.

***

Mike:

I walk into the station after swiping my card, stripping my tie off and putting it in my back pocket.

I hate ties, wore the fuckers every day in high school, but the world seems to expect them for "Professional Engagements".

Like an interview.

I'd just gotten out of an interview for an operations position at the city branch of a national bank. Did well enough, but it's about as stuffy and particular an interaction as you get. Corporate lifers, making sure you know enough to make their lives easier, but won't buck tradition and make waves.

There's a small group waiting on the platform: Older woman, couple of kids, and a statuesque woman in... club wear?

Nope, don't stare, don't even glance.

Standing, I peer down the track like it might make the train come more quickly, which weirdly enough it shows up on demand. Wild.

The doors open and I follow the lady and the kids on, staying out of the clubwear woman's way. Looking around I make the awkward calculation of where I can sit to be the least bothersome/threatening and realize between clubwear woman heading to the back of the car and the blonde in the set of forward facing seats to the left of the door, the least intrusive place is in the wall seat next to the door.

Behind me already.

Have I mentioned I'm a bit awkward? Always a bit big, a bit broad, and clumsy to boot. I can overthink like no one's business!

Anyway, I get turned around and sink onto the seat, the blonde in my peripheral vision. Medium length do, undercut on the right and kinda swept around to the left? Cute, half lidded light blue eyes, either no makeup or on point "No Makeup" makeup, it's impossible to tell. Headphones, relieving me of any pressure to engage, thank Christ. Short green canvas jacket over band t-shirt, seems well built and something of an active build? Not boney skinny, but not into double rolls either. Some nice traps. Chest...

Ah. Chest. Yes. Those are very nice and completely irrelevant. Irrelevant but delightful, C-cups?

Stop. Not the point and don't be a creep. Pull out your phone and read something so you're not agonizing over the interview and your utter lack of game.

Phone in hand, I look at my follow list for updates and consider my options.

Then something cups my cock through my pants and I drop my phone.

***

Lily:

Leaning back in my seat I close my eyes, cross my arms and visualize.

When he's as hard as he can get in his pants because of the squeezing and teasing, I'd grab his zipper and pull it down. Stop him with a raised eyebrow if he opens his mouth.

Slip my hand inside the zipper, then inside the fly on his boxers and... mmmf. Got to love that first touch of warm, hard cock. Firm but velvety. The slightest bit moist with sweat because it's a real body with real functions.

Wrap my hand around it and squeeze, looking into... Fuck. Calling him "IT Guy" just feels weird now that I've got his cock in my mind. I'm going to call him Mike.

What? It's a good, classic name. Easy to say, whisper, or scream!

Looking into *Mike's* confused eyes (Kinda a dark grey with hints of green) I squeeze his cock gently, watching his gaze skate around and the blush creep up his cheeks.

Gently, carefully I scoop and thread his package through the various flys, then just hold the shaft firmly while his dick rises to full mast free of the confines of his slacks.

Holding his blushing gaze for the moment, I deliberately move my gaze downward. Letting go, I move his cock around with my finger, giving it a curious lookover.

6ish inches, slight rightward curve, a touch thicker than average. Uncircumsized, with a bit of extra foreskin at the tip. A darker, redder skin tone than his face, but that's typical. Balls are slightly oversized for the general package. Darker mole on the underside of the shaft? Trimmed pubic hair on the sack and shaft, but long enough ago that it's a bit stubbly?

Weird the details my mind will fill in for the sake of stimulation.

I look Mike back in the eyes and nod my approval. Nice cock bro. Jury's still out on the grade though, I'll need to perform a thorough examination.

Giggling a bit at my inner monologue's absurdity I wrap my hand around the shaft, pulling slightly towards me and take some long, slow strokes. Index finger just brushing the coronal ridge to pinky pressing against the base, feeling each vein and ridge with each direction.

Mike starts to open his mouth again, quite red by this point. This gets a stern shake of the head and a finger over his lips.

Shifting a bit on my seat again, I'm suddenly glad I wore jeans. I'm already feeling a warm, squirmy emptiness that's making everything just that much more sensitive.

***

Mike:

Something's touching my cock. A hand? Gotta be a hand. Feels like a hand? Look, I know what being felt up over the pants feels like, I've had a few partners and been to some college parties....Not recently, but shut up.

It's all over my cock, pressing, getting a solid feel and squeeze... except when I look there's nothing there at all.

I look around furtively, and as expected there's no one paying attention to me. Blonde is zoned out happily, teenagers are absorbed in whatever it is teens do these days, club wear lady is asleep and leaning on the older woman's shoulder to her chagrin.

I wave my hands surreptitiously but frantically over my lap, hitting nothing. Putting my own hand over my crotch doesn't find or stop anything. Neither does crossing my legs damnit!

Oooh. Whatever it is, it's good. Gentle, cupping and squeezing, then feels like a thumb tracing the head and shaft.

Shit, I'm getting hard. Also panicking, I can feel my heart race and my face get hot. Still checking to make sure no one's looking, I maneuver my lengthening dick down my right pant leg, then cross my legs again.

I had to touch myself a bit to do so, and the sensation was something else, with my hand roughly grabbing and whatever the fuck is molesting me lightly touching at the same time, in the same place.

I seriously consider pulling the emergency stop, but that'll just bring more attention. What would I do, tell em a ghost is giving me a handy?

...Oh god I hadn't even thought of that.

The grip lets go and I sigh, but quickly returns as a light pressure roaming around, touching here and there with light pressure as if I was being inspected? I hope I'm not too sweaty.

Wait, why would I care?

Fuuuucckkk, it... she? It makes me feel better to think of whatever's doing this as a person. She/her at a preference, though I won't argue with they/them either. Vastly better than the consequences of "it" any day of the week. She's doing full strokes. Like slowly pumping my cock from glans to base as if it weren't in my pants somehow. I go to open my mouth to just, I dunno, express my utter what the fuck at the whole, confusing yet concerningly hot situation and before I can even part my lips I feel a finger press over them like someone shushing me.

I squirm inside as my dick jumps and gets impossibly harder.

***

Lily:

I smirk in delight when Mike's cock flexes and throbs in my hand as I shush him.

Softly "Oh? You like a stranger just handling you all over, hmm?" and the blush gets harder.

In my head of course.

I crack an eye and peek at the template for my maundering mental fantasy. He's a bit red, but it is fairly warm out. Wonder why It Guy isn't on his phone anymore?

Eh, whatever, I prefer my "Mike" version.

Eyes shut again, I keep a firm grip on Mike's shaft, just under the head, squeezing rhythmically for a moment to let him cool off a bit. Looking at it, the head's just so swollen, a bit of angry purple/red glans peeking out at the tip.

I start pulling down on the foreskin lightly, in increasing amounts. The slit keeps peeking out, and more and more of the rest of the classic mushroom tip is revealed as I tug back and forth.

The finger on his lip vibrates a bit and I catch Mike suppressing a moan, eyes pressed shut.

Fuck. That's... Mmmf. I can feel myself clench and flex inside. Is panties and jeans going to be enough?

No harshing Momma's buzz. I wave the thought away, cross my legs, and get back to the main course.

I slap his cheek lightly to get his attention, then when he meets my eyes I gesture for him to stand up.

Daww, he freezes again! Such a cute deer in the headlights look. Mike needs to hop to it though, so I tilt my head with a flat look and give his cock a harder than firm squeeze.

He scrambles up, almost falling as the train takes a curve, trying to hide his pretty, rampant prick from the rest of the train behind me.

Another curve and he sways again, then shyly reaches up to take the overhead grab handle with both hands, just putting all of himself on display for me.

It appears I underestimated Mr. Mike here, there's some solid, strong muscle under the fluff. Deep chest, bit of a belly but kinda swooped in at the sides like there's a worked core under there. Wide hips for a guy, and you can see the quads flex with the movement of the carriage. Mmm, that butt pops a bit too, in only that way that consistent squats and lunges form. His legs seem a bit unsteady, shaking a bit...

Woops, getting distracted! Gotta keep up that stroke!

While I let Righty keep commuting back and forth on his cock, I think it's time I pay attention to these fine family jewels I'm being presented with. Scrotum's a scrotum, it's hard to make them look attractive, but this one's fairly neat with trimmed hair and well filled out by its occupants.

Touch is a whole different thing though, there's something about the feel of how the testicles move loosely under the skin, kinda like those squishy liquid stressball toys. A nice handful to squeeze and roll in your hand, pull down on til it's just on the edge of being too much...

I catch myself as I see his knees buckle. Sorry Mike, got a bit carried away!

Keeping up the gentle squeezing and rolling of his balls, I pull ever so gently back on his cock, slowly drawing his foreskin fully back until it catches behind the flare of the head with an almost crisp popping sensation. I use the thumb on my stroking hand to ride up and over the tip as I start to stroke again, sliding up the ridge on the bottom, pressing on the frenulum, then slipping over the glans.

...I can feel his heartbeat, his dick just kind of throbbing in rhythm. I re-cross my legs and squeeze, feeling a twitch in time with the throb.

My thumb suddenly starts rubbing with less friction, and I lift it up to see a shiny, crystal string connecting digit to the tip of Mike's cock. I can even smell it, a sharp, musky scent of extreme arousal. While I watch, another clear droplet pearls up... and I smear it all over the head with a giggle.

***

Mike:

Her hand stops stroking me for a moment and I'm breathing hard like I just ran 100 yards. Is it just me or is the AC not working?

I can feel that I'm still being held though, and it's really strange. I can feel a warm, gently squeezing hand... at the same time I can feel the skin of my leg against my cock. I can even feel the friction when my skin moves against myself, while being pulled by a hand that can't possibly be there!

I startle as the hand starts to stroke again, gently with short strokes at first, then longer. My hands start to grip the seat as my foreskin starts to slide a bit with each movement, back and forth.

Fuck. Fuck. I just moaned. I bite my lip to keep it from happening again too audibly, and then I feel it.

A light slap across the cheek.

I freeze, biting my lip, and then she squeezes my cock almost painfully hard.

Maybe I can run? Change seats? Change lives?

I shoot to my feet to try and go literally anywhere else, and then I make another set of discoveries: It's really hard to stay steady when someone's got a grip on my cock, and whoever it is wants me right where I am. It's almost like walking into a bollard or something, but the bollards got a solid hold on you by the crotch.

Look, that's as much sense as I can make right now.

Anyway, I nearly trip and only save my ass from a wild fall by snaggingg the overhead grab handles with both hands, winding up facing the back of the train.

Right towards the set of seats where the blonde is sitting with her eyes closed and arms and legs crossed.

I pray like I haven't done since I was five that this confusing experience ends before she wakes up or whatever, because my dick's as hard as it's ever been and is terribly, obviously tenting my slacks out like it's throwing a goddamn three ring circus.

Small favors that she vaguely conceals me and my predicament from the rest of the car behind her. Just having her face in view makes me feel all sorts of seen and I blush even harder if possible.

I dangle for an eternity, having some issues getting my legs sorted out, caught between a cock and a hard place. The strokes start up again almost immediately, the same deep strokes that do all sorts of things with the sensation of my foreskin rubbing back and forth over my glans.

But as it turns out she's got two hands, because after a few breaths (Or none. Or a million. I'm a little overwhelmed!) she's also got me by the balls. A gentle cup with some light squeezing at first, like she's rolling 'em in her hand like you can do with a set of dice.

At least I won't need to do my core workout later, I'm almost spasming with the stimulation, abs clamping and unclenching as it rolls over me.

Uh, she's getting a bit rougher with my testicles. Squeezing increasingly harder, and pulling straight down, I can feel my sack stretch out a bit in my boxers. I squeak through my increasingly hard bitten lip and my knees betray me again, leaving me to dangle from the overhead handles. I almost cry when after a moment she either realizes or backs off or something and lets up a bit, still a firm grip but not almost to the point of pain.

My traitor cock's even harder if that's possible though, made worse (Or better?) when she takes her next full stroke along my shaft and I feel my foreskin catch completely behind the coronal ridge.

Look, the foreskin's there for a reason, and now the most tender, sensitive part of my cock is rubbing right on my boxers, and oh fuck her thumb.

Her thumb runs up on her next slow stroke, along the big ridge on the bottom of my shaft, then rubbing and pressing just right on my frenulum before swiping slowly over the rest of the head.

I'm panting through my nose, eyes squeezed shut, barely suppressing a whimper, involuntarily squirming under her thumb when I feel that slight shiver, that effervescent spasm you get when your precum decides it's a good time to come out and play.

I feel her thumb find the drop before it's absorbed by my pants, and there's a slight hitch in the previously smooth strokes where her thumb lifts... before the the slick liquid is enthusiastically wiped over the head of my cock and the hand speeds up on my shaft, squeezing at the base and releasing at the tip like it's trying to milk more out of me.

Moo.

***

Lily:

Breathing a little harder myself, I stroke a little faster, trying to milk more of that shameful, delightful evidence of sheer arousal out of Mike, and he certainly obliges. Over the next dozen strokes, I get another shiver and another drop of the slick liquid to lubricate my thumb on his cock's head.

I look up and see that his chest is fluttering, that his eyes are squeezed shut, that his lips are showing signs of many hard bites. I imagine that he's moaning and whimpering with each breath, shaky on his legs. In that moment I feel like the dark queen of sex, setting off fireworks of pleasure in this poor boy in the unlikeliest, most humiliating of places.