The train pulled out of the station, and he settled into a seat by a window. Luckily, the other three seats were empty and he rested his arms on the table in front of him. These trains later in the evening were always much less crowed, even to the point of deserted. It had been a long day in the office, meeting clients, dealing with problems, and not as much designing as he’d have liked. He was looking forward to getting home, having some food and a drink, getting into something more comfortable than the collar and tie, suit and pinchy shoes.
“Ok to sit here, mate?” He looked up. A young man, some kind of blue-collar by the looks of him, was asking with a smile on his face.
He smiled back. “No worries. Don’t mind me.” He sat back as the man sat, across from him, pulled his hood down, adjusted his cap, took out his phone and started to thumb the screen.
Fair play, he thought. Young of today. He was tempted to get his own phone out, look at some contact sites, but was too weary, so he closed his eyes, and counted the stops till his station. He stood up, nodded at the man, and got out.
-+-
A few days later, the same train, the same empty booth. And, astonishingly, the same young man. This time the hoodie was off, tied round his waist, a dark blue polo shirt on display covered with unidentifiable stains, hiviz trousers that may once have been orange, no hat, no hair, and what was looking like the start of a black eye.
“Ok to sit here, mate?”
He gestured to the seat, inviting the young skinhead to sit. He gestured to his own face. “What happened?”
The skin shook his head. “Unwilling bolt on a cam-chain tensioner.” He looked off to one side, then said “Well, more like a rounded off bolt on a cam-chain tensioner. Wasn’t undoing, so I used a bigger wrench and it slipped round and caught me one. Prob be a beaut in the morning. There’s my good looks gone for a week or so.”
He laughed. “You look just fine to me, fella.”
The skin laughed back. “Cheers - I think.” He closed his eyes and sat back, appeared to drop off to sleep.
He took his phone out, onto the contact site. Search on who’s near - one within touching distance. Clicked the profile; 25 year old, 5 foot 5, average build, non smoker, some tattoos, no piercings, versatile. The picture was a neck down profile shot of a skin in full attire; black polo shirt with gold trim, braces, bleachers ending at the tops of polished oxblood DMs. His cock stirred. He furrowed his brow, then looked across at the bloke seemingly asleep. Almost everything matched; a face shot would confirm, but there wasn’t one - just a few more shots of skin gear and an enticing one of a fully hard cock. He sent a message; “If you’re sitting across from me now on the train, message back when you see this, as you’re asleep now!”
The train pulled into his station, and he got off. The skin never moved.
-+-
The same train. The same skinhead. More developed black eye. This time came and sat beside him.
“Got your message,” the skin said quietly, pressing his hiviz clad thigh up against his suited leg. “Cop a feel if you want. Pass through pocket and commando under today.”
He couldn’t resist that, so his hand went out, in through the grime rimmed pocket, across the sweaty thigh… The cock he felt was damp, semi hard already, felt full in his hand. The skin spread his legs a little to allow better access, and now he could feel down to a decent sized set of balls, also sweaty after a hard day’s work. He moved back up to the cock, felt the end and the start of a precum leak, rubbed it around, felt the cock harden even more.
“Like that, don’t cha…” the skin whispered.
“Too bloody right,” he replied, taking the skin’s grimy hand and placing it on his crotch. “See for yourself…”
“Rather see it than feel it,” the skin said.
“Next stop’s mine, if that’s what you want?”
“That’s what I want.”
He withdrew his hand from the skin’s trousers, and gathered up his suit jacket. “Off we go then…”
The train stopped, they got off, they walked out of the station, round a corner and down a street of terraced house. He was carrying his case and jacket, the skin in grubby grey polo, hoodie tied round his waist, orange (probably) hiviz trousers tucked into steely riggers. Half way along he stopped. “This is it.”
The skin looked up and around. “Tidy,” he said. “Garden’s a bit out of control…”
He laughed. “Not my thing, gardens. Buildings my thing. Yours is cars, I take it?”
The skin nodded. “It is. We going in or what?”
He walked up the steps and opened the front door, closing it again after the skin had passed him. The skin turned immediately.
“Your profile says you’re sub, bottom, whatever. That true?”
“That’s true.”
The skin moved forward, got an arm under his chin and pushed him against the wall. “Then we’re gonna have some fun then.” The skin reached up and gently but firmly kissed him on the lips, leaving the arm in place. He broke off. “Not often I get to play with a 6 foot plus subbie heavyset bear with a posh job.”
His brown eyes smiled down at the skin. “Wasn’t always a posh job. Started as a brickie… a skinhead brickie.”
“Fuckin’ ace!” He stepped away. “Strip then, ya bastard. Here, in the hallway. Clothes in a pile.”
He took off his day wear - shirt, now sweat stained, shoes, trousers, socks, boxers. He stood in the hallway naked and…
“Fuckin’ turned on too,” the skin said. He looked around. “Where to now then? Upstairs, living room?”
“Better than that,” he said, walking past the skin and indicating some stairs down. “Basement.”
“Off you go then; lead the fuckin’ way.”
He went down the stairs, the skin following. Along the way he flipped a switch, then opened a door at the bottom and went inside. The skin followed him into a dimly lit brick line room, the width of the house, but only about that square deep. There was only a mattress propped against a wall, a few pillows, and a mostly empty wine rack.
The skin clapped his hands. “Fuckin’ ace… Get over here.”
He walked up to the skin, looked down into his eyes to see the lust. “Fuckin’ kneel…” He knelt. The skin grabbed the back of his head, and rammed his face into the skin’s groin, the grimy orange cloth rough on his day old stubble. He could feel the skin’s cock harden and reached up to grab the skin’s arse. His hands were slapped away. “If I say so, fella.” He went back to nuzzling the skins crotch, then the skin pulled him up by the armpits, and offered him one of his own pits. “Get in there…” He didn’t need any more encouragement; he got his face deep into the skin’s armpit, breathing in deep the sweat of the day, getting high off it.
The skin grabbed his face again, and this time the kiss was deep and rough, no subtlety, just a deep exploration by each others’ tongues. The skin’s rough hands grabbed his head, rubbing the day’s grime on his bald head, lubricated by his sweat.
Another rough kiss, then the skin forced a grubby finger into his mouth. “Practice for me cock,” the skin said. After a few minutes it was “Back on your knees fella. Hands behind your head. Study the floor…” He did as he was told. He heard the skin move off, a flump noise from behind him, then the skin was in front of him again. “Up. Follow.”
He followed the skin to where he’d flopped the mattress onto the floor. The skin stood in the middle of the mattress and pulled down the hiviz trousers; his cock was bouncing and dripping precum. The skin turned his back on him, then got on all fours on the mattress, his arse pointing upwards. “Rim it…” he commanded.
He got onto the mattress behind the skin and got his face into the skin’s crack, flicking his hole with his tongue, then pushing his face hard into the skin. The skin pushed back, feeling his stubble rough against his cheeks. He grabbed hold of the skin’s boots to lever himself into the skin’s arse, tried to pull the trousers down even more. “Leave it,” he was told. The trousers stayed where they were, just down enough for the skin’s arse to be exposed, and his cock to dangle free and hard.
The skin pulled away, and flipped himself onto his back. The skin beckoned to him to get in over and reached up to pull him down into another rough kiss. This time the skins arms went round him, and the skins legs parted to allow him to lie between his knees, cock against cock, precum dripping onto precum. They were both sweating hard, the skin into his grey shirt and trousers, him onto the skin and his kit. The skin moved his booted feet up and over his body into the small of his back and clamped on, held tight, pressing the two bodies together, lips locked.
After a while the skin pushed him away. “Need to fuck you now.” The skin released his lock on him, and pulled away. “On your front, now. Arms above your head.” He rolled onto his front and held his arms up as ordered. He felt the skin, run a finger or two up and down his crack, lingering on the hole. A finger or two went in, lingering, probing. There was a spitting sound, then a tap at the top of his crack, and he felt his hole being invaded, slowly, continuous, till it felt like the skin was all the way in. He moaned. “Quiet,” the skin said and got a hand round his mouth, pulling back enough to reinforce the command. The skin’s other arm slid under him round his chest and clenched tight, and then the fucking began in earnest. A slow withdrawal, an insistent push back in, and repeat. Definitely being fucked but no sense of desperation, urgency. Two men in carnal nirvana. His own cock was pressed into the mattress, and he could feel the precum leak out every time the skin pressed forward and inwards, hitting that spot.
Eventually the skin started to pick up the pace, outward strokes becoming shorted, inward strokes becoming deeper and rougher. The hand round his mouth tightened, the one round his chest clenched hard, and after one last deep massive push into his arse, the skin held the push, then he felt the skin’s cock spew out eight, no nine, jets of cum deep inside him. The skin collapsed on top of his back, almost steaming in the dim light.
“Fair’s fair,” the skin whispered in his ear. “You’ve not cum.” He got off him. “On your back.” He rolled over, cock pointing straight up, seeing the skin standing over him. The skin knelt either side of him, adjusted his trousers, then lowered himself down onto his sweaty cock. It slipped up the skin easily, and the skin started to fuck himself with it, leaning down, putting his grimy hands on the naked shoulders.
Before too long, he had to say “I’m cumming…”
“Too fuckin’ right you are,” the skin said and increased his rate of fucking, till he pushed up against the skin’s arse and let out a howl, and released a full load up the skin.
The skin reached down and snogged him deep, gentler now. “Cheers fella,” the skin said. “You needed that.”
“Too fuckin’ right I did,” he replied. “You’re a fuckin’ tease on the train, looking and smelling the way you do. Always had a thing for the blue collar lads, more so by the end of the day…”
The skin nodded. “You should get yourself some skin gear - you’d look fuckin’ good in it, a nice chunky unit, people would give you a wide berth - unless it was me, and I’d fuckin’ know what you was after…”
He laughed. “Chunky unit eh? Like the sound of that…”
The skin leaned over him. “Don’t lose any fuckin’ weight - you’re perfect for me as you are.” He grabbed him by the chin. “Yeah - call you ‘Unit’.”
“What do I call you? If there’s a follow up?”
“There’ll be a follow up, Unit, didn’t you fuckin’ worry about that.” He looked down. “Name’s Mark, but almost everyone else calls me ‘Runt’…”
Unit reached up and got a hand behind Runt’s neck, and pulled him down. “When are you next on that train…?”
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