I like taking the 18:27 home from Uni every week. It's uninterrupted time with my phone. Chatting or texting guys is fun when I'm horny – and I'm always horny, thanks to the feel of denim rubbing against my cock. If I've got one fetish, it's for going commando in tight, sexy, stretch jeans. Better than Viagra, although I've not tried that.
I've never seen any guys I fancy on the train, and I'm not sure what I'd do if I did, cos in spite of wearing gear that shows everything, I'm actually ridiculously shy.
That Friday evening I was feeling frisky – a while ago I'd found a top online who was as hot as fuck and I couldn't wait to get down to some more serious chatting with him. He was the sexiest guy I'd ever found and I was desperate to get back to it. We'd texted at first, then I'd given him my number, and for the last few weeks he'd been calling me around this time when I was on my way home. I was loving it.
His name was Rob. Twenty-nine, body to die for. Very into bulging jeans and leather, and he wore them like he'd been fucking born in them. I'm not very experienced, but he was into a lot of things that sounded interesting – like getting boys helpless and teasing them insane before fucking the arse off them; like extracting their spunk by any means possible. Or both. I knew he was also into quite a few things we hadn't talked about yet, and some of the ones we had talked about, I'd never even considered previously.
The train was fairly empty when I got on. It always was, but I knew it would fill up between Marsh and Liverpool, and then it would be empty again until I got off shortly after. I dropped into a seat by the window, propped one leg up on the opposite seat, and looked around. There was nobody else near to me. I popped my earbuds in and opened my phone.
Rob often sent me pictures when we were chatting, which is how I knew he was so hot, and my cock jerked when I saw that there was one waiting for me. A view from close to the floor looking up past combat boots, along his legs in smooth, skintight, faded jeans, to a bulge the size of a battering ram. Black leather jacket, hands on his hips, his eyes looking down at the camera through the holes in the black balaclava. He always wore that. I didn't care – I'd never seen his face but I just knew that the man was gorgeous. I looked at that picture and drooled. Oh fuck, I'd been fantasising about a guy like him for a long time.
The lights flickered for a moment, there were the usual squeaks, then the train began to move. Almost immediately I got the call.
"Hi. You on the train?" He asked. His voice was as sexy as he was.
"Hi Rob! Been looking forward to this all week. Yep, I'm on the train. Fuck, you look good in that pic."
"Tell me exactly what you're wearing."
I told him. White trainers, white sport socks, stretch denim jeans, black hoodie with 'AC/DC' on the front in red.
"Commando in those jeans?"
I smiled. "Always. You know that." He loved the fact that I never wore anything under them.
"Are they tight?"
"Skintight - the tightest ones I've got. Takes me 10 mins to get into them."
"Excellent. Which side's your cock on?"
"Right."
"Is it hard?"
"Getting there."
"Send me a pic."
I took one.
"Very nice. Ok. I want you to imagine you're here with me." His voice softened. "I've got you strapped down to the bed, spreadeagled. You're wearing those jeans, your ankles are tied two feet apart. You can't open them and you can't close them. Leather straps around your knees too, keeping them apart. I'm looking down at you."
He sent me a new pic – from exactly that viewpoint. The camera was looking up like it was on the bed. He was in his leather jacket, collar up, zip halfway down, nothing on under it; studded belt; and those skintight, faded jeans. Thin, tight black leather gloves on his hands, fists on his hips. Black balaclava as always, with brown eyes looking at me. Oh fuck fuck fuck.
"OK. Now, get your cock hard. Look back at my pics, and tell me when you're as hard as a fucking rock."
I looked at the pics again, and gripped and squeezed my cock. In less than a minute it was hard and stretching the denim out at my crotch. I let him know I was ready.
"Take another pic of your bulge and send it, and tell me exactly what you did to get yourself hard."
I did that.
"Hmm. Excellent."
A pause, then another pic came through. His right hand.
"Now, you see my hand? From now on, whatever I tell you I'm doing with it, you will do exactly the same thing. It will be your hand, but it will be my hand doing it to you. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"OK. No gripping now. No squeezing. From now on I'm going to work on you so fucking lightly you can hardly feel it. Understand?"
"Understood."
"OK. I'm tickling the insides of your thighs through those jeans as lightly as I can – right at the very tops. And your perineum as well."
I began to do that, as lightly as possible.
"Now include your balls…
"And now your cock as well – but only the shaft. Do not touch the head. You should only just be able to feel it. Lightly. I'm tickling my fingertips over your thighs and your bulge. Remember, that's my hand doing it."
I did it. The thought of him doing that to me sent waves of pleasure through me. But it was too light. "I need more."
"I know you do. Now keep doing that over and over until I tell you to stop."
Oh fuck. I teased my thighs, balls and cock shaft like he'd instructed me, again and again.
"You still hard?"
"Oh fuck yeah. Aching. I'm fucking horny."
"Good. Now, my fingers are on your cock head – even MORE lightly than before. I'm feeling around it gently to find the spot that really makes you want to cum. Do it. LIGHTLY, boy. Much TOO lightly."
My cock was doing its best to burst out of my jeans, and the moment my fingers touched the head I felt myself get a lot closer. I badly needed to squeeze it, rub it, but I had to tease around it until he said stop. I tickled as lightly as I possibly could over the thin, worn denim. I already knew that, on me, the most intense spot was just under the tip of the head. Every time my finger stroked it, it sent a jolt of need through me. "Fuck, I need to cum."
"Good. Stop. Sit back and relax. Here's a couple of pics for you to look at.
First pic: Rob grabbing his cock bulge with both hands, squeezing around it, isolating it, making it push outwards. I could see the shape of the bulbous head through the tight, faded jeans. I wanted to feel it, grip it, lick it, bite it. And I wanted that cock inside me.
"You like that?"
I liked that very much. "Oh fuck, you have no fucking idea."
Second pic: Close-up of his brown eyes through the balaclava. He looked so fucking hot…
The train began to slow. "Shit. Coming into Marsh. Carriage is gonna fill up. Wait a couple of mins please."
"Ok. Tell me when you're ready."
The brakes screeched and we came to a stop. Doors opened. People came in, found seats, thankfully not close to me. Whistle blew. Train started moving, jerky at first, then picking up speed. It was completely dark outside now.
I was just about to speak to Rob again when someone came through from the next carriage, looked around, and sat down diagonally across the aisle from me. He was about my age, shaggy blond hair, white tee shirt and khaki bomber jacket, faded blue jeans. Too young and too cute for me. Shit – I'd rather he'd sat somewhere else. I didn't want him to see that I had an erection – and if I carried on talking to Rob it sure wasn't going to get soft any time soon. I'm shy about things like that, so I hid my crotch with my hand and phone. But the boy got on his own phone and didn't seem to notice I was there. Things looked Ok.
Rob asked me was if anybody had got on near me. I told him about the guy and described him. "I'm gonna have to be careful in case he sees."
"Is he looking at you?"
"No. He's concentrating on his phone."
"Can anybody else see you?"
"No."
"Ok. Now listen very carefully. You will do exactly as I say. Turn yourself slightly towards him, and stretch your legs out a bit, knees about 18" apart."
"Rob, I can't… "
"Do you like our chats? Do you want me to call you again in the future?"
"Yes. Of course I do!"
"Well, in that case you will do as I say. Exactly."
I wasn't happy about turning towards the boy or sitting with my legs wide apart like that, but I didn't have a choice. I told him when I'd moved.
"Good. Now, is he to your left or your right?"
"Right."
"OK. Ignore him.
"OK."
"Now, I am kneeling on the bed at your side. My skintight jeans are almost touching your leg. I've taken my right glove off, and I'm lowering my hand – it's resting flat on your right thigh. Do it."
I put my hand there.
"Now, Slowly and lightly, I'm running my fingers up and down your thigh. Down almost to the knee, and up to the top. Do it."
I felt incredibly self-conscious. He made me do that for fifteen seconds.
"Ok. My hand has stopped. It's halfway along your thigh. I'm moving my fingers slowly, now. All of them, stroking your jeans."
I began to move my fingers.
"You doing that as well?" He asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Remember, that's my hand doing that to you. Now, I'm very gradually moving my hand to the left and down, fingers about where the seam is, on the inside of your thigh. They're stroking very lightly all around there, very slowly."
If the boy looked up from his phone, he'd be able to see what I was doing. I prayed he wouldn't look up.
"You doing that?"
"Yeah."
Shit! The boy opposite put his phone away. I almost panicked, but he hadn't seemed to notice me. He yawned, stretched his legs out, put his hands in his lap. Then he leaned back and closed his eyes. His head was turned slightly away from me.
I told Rob.
"Don't worry about him. He's not looking at you. He'll probably go to sleep."
My panic subsided a bit.
"Ok. I'm moving my hand upwards. Slowly. Following the seam. My fingers are still teasing all around on the inside of your thigh. Can you feel that?"
My hand continued to move very slowly upwards. "Oh fuck yes."
"Good. They're at the very top now. Ok. I've reached your balls. Now, my hand's moving slowly straight up, onto your bulge. My fingers and thumb are teasing the whole bulge, moving round and round over those tight, sexy jeans."
Oh fuck, that felt so horny. Even with the risk of the boy seeing, what Rob was doing was turning me on like fuck. It was as if it was his hand working on me.
"Now, I'm only going to use my first finger. That's all. I'm stroking it incredibly lightly up the shaft of your cock, but only as far as the bottom of the head. No further. Each stroke takes me 5 seconds. I'm doing that over and over."
Oh shit – my cock moved every time my finger touched it – and the stretchy denim let it. I could see the bulge jerking sharply each time.
Rob carried on doing that for a while, then he told me to stop. "Relax. Look at a pic."
It was a close-up of one finger curled slightly, as if it couldn't wait to do something.
"See that? I'm gonna feel around the head of your cock again, but now just with that fingertip, until I find that one spot that sends jolts through you. Do it."
I did that.
"Now, I'm gonna stroke the very tip of that finger so lightly you can hardly feel it – right over that spot. Round and round. Now."
My finger stroked. I wouldn't have thought I'd be able to feel anything that light, but I fucking could – the thin, stretch jeans transmitted the touch in acute, ultra-high definition to my aching cock head. And the lack of firmer stimulation seemed to be making it increasingly hypersensitive. It very nearly made me cum.
I whispered urgently into the phone. "Please! Stop or I'll cum!"
"Ok, I've stopped. Now, push the denim down to one side of the head. Then the other side so it moves your cock just a bit each time. Do not touch the head. Just push the jeans in."
Oh shit. It made the denim rub over my sensitised cock when I pressed. Felt as horny as fuck.
"I'm moving my finger back to the shaft and I'm stroking up and down it slowly – just as lightly."
The immediate threat of orgasm receded, but I knew it wasn't far away and I'd have to be very careful indeed.
"Is that boy still asleep?"
I risked a look over there. He was still lying back, his head turned away, but I couldn't see his eyes because of his blond hair. Then, even though his hands were mostly covering his lap, I saw that he had a stoking erection in his jeans.
The next thing I saw froze me: it was black outside and I could see his reflection in the train window – his eyes were open and he was looking directly at me.
Oh fuck fuck fuck . I hurriedly told Rob.
"OK. Don't worry about it." His voice was calm, reassuring. "Ignore him. Concentrate on me. Keep doing exactly what you're doing. My finger is stroking slowly up and down the shaft of your hard cock through those tight jeans… "
I could feel my face going red. Please let Rob stop now.
"Use a finger of the hand that's holding your phone to tease one of your nipples at the same time through your hoodie. And close your knees together. Tightly."
I did as he told me.
"Now open them again. Wide."
I opened them.
"Do it again. Close… Pause… Open wide."
I did it again.
"OK. Forget the nipple now. I'm grabbing the base of your cock, holding it firmly. I'm moving it around, to find the position where it sticks out the most."
Staring fixedly at the phone in my hand, I forced myself to do that. I got dangerously close again as the head slid under the tight jeans. I found a place where the bulge was obscene.
"Ok," I whispered.
"Where is it?"
"Just past horizontal across my right thigh. Pointing slightly towards my feet.
"Good. Move down in the seat a bit and push your crotch out."
I settled down in the seat, closed my eyes in embarrassment, and did as he'd told me. Oh fuck. My face felt like it was the colour of beetroot.
"Good. Now. I'm taking that single finger and moving it slowly towards your right thigh. You can see it coming…
"… it's touching your thigh…
"… now it's stroking slowly up the inside…
"… over your balls…
"… up the shaft of your cock…
"… over the head to that sweet, sweet spot…
"… I'm just holding it there, not moving…"
Trying to keep that boy opposite out of my mind, I'd done exactly as Rob had told me to. I desperately needed to grab my cock and wank it exactly where my fingertip was.
"Now, I'm stretching the jeans around your cock head with just a single finger and thumb so I can grip it. I'm pulling it away from your body as far as the stretchy denim will let me. I'm holding my hand so that the boy would be able to see everything, if he was looking."
I was pretty sure that the boy was looking, and I was experiencing the most acute embarrassment ever, but I knew that if I wanted to keep Rob, I had to do exactly what he told me. And, to be honest, I was now so fucking horny that I was on the edge of beginning not to care.
The moment I gripped the head and pulled it up against the tension of those jeans – they felt unbelievably sexy right now – I could feel orgasm threatening to approach. I held my cock there and waited for my next instructions.
"Now I'm gonna start very, VERY slowly sliding those tight, sexy jeans over it – right up to the very tip and back again. It's gonna take me exactly four seconds to move my hand on each stroke. I'll tell you when to do each one.
"Forward… "
Four seconds.
"Back… "
Four seconds.
"Forward… "
Four seconds.
"Back… "
Desperately, I whispered into the phone. "Please Rob. No. Stop. I'm not far from cumming."
His voice was every bit as soft. "I'm gonna keep doing that at exactly the same speed. You're tied to my bed, helpless. You can't get away from me. You're looking up at the sexy masked guy who's working on you. You know what I look like in these jeans – you know how fucking skintight they are, how fucking horny my bulge looks in them – and I'm as hard as fucking iron doing this to you. I know you're close, boy, and I'm gonna get you even closer, very very slowly. I fuckin' love watching a boy trying to fight it. Trying not to cum…"
I was fighting it. I was fighting it as hard as I could. And then he sent me another photo.
His leather jacket was open now, pecs and abs on full display. Thumbs hooked in his leather belt, fingers resting on that solid, blocky bulge, weight slightly more on one leg. In my present condition it was the horniest thing I'd ever seen in my life.
"Keep looking at that pic but do n o t cum. I'm making you want to cum – but you're gonna stop yourself. So fight it. "
Fight it? I was trying as hard as I fucking could.
My fingers kept moving on my cock head through my jeans. If I'd been wanking myself like I normally do, I'd have cum ages ago, but because he'd ordered me to do it so fucking gently, I had time to feel orgasm approaching – slowly but relentlessly. And I knew there was nothing I could do about it. It got closer… closer…
I kept praying that any second he'd tell me to stop – but he didn't. Instead he made it worse.
"Can you feel those skintight jeans sliding over your cock? They're gonna milk your spunk outta you…
"Up… "
Four seconds.
"Down… "
Four seconds.
"Up… "
Four seconds.
"Down… "
… and then there was nothing I could do to stop it. I stared at that pic as my cock started to jerk, and I came.
A tiny part of my mind that was not otherwise occupied heard him say, "I'm still working on your cock head – just as slowly. I'm not stopping."
I came and came and came. I desperately wanted to grip my cock harder and wank it furiously, looking at that last photo, but I forced myself to obey Rob's orders, and do it very slowly indeed. My eyes closed as my spunk shot out into my jeans, my cock jerking like a wild thing and my fingers sliding on the wet and slippery denim. It went on and fucking on – and still there was more. I was gasping into the phone.
Eventually it slowed, and then stopped. There was a dark, shiny wet patch the diameter of a tennis ball on the light-blue denim of my right thigh, and it was still spreading. Some spunk had even forced its way through, glistening in the lights.
After a while he chuckled. "OK, you can stop now. You've got no fucking control. We're gonna have to work on that. Now, have a stretch. Arms and legs fully extended. Turn yourself further towards the boy."
Just in case the guy opposite had missed anything, the bastard was making quite certain he saw it now. I turned and stretched.
"Ok. Gotta go. It's been fun. We're gonna have to arrange a meet very soon, I think. With straps, and blindfolds, and gags. And with things that will let me control very precisely whether you're able to cum or not. Chat next week."
Rob was gone.
And I was left with a pair of spunk-soaked jeans, a guy who had a while ago stopped even pretending he was asleep, and mortifying embarrassment that had returned with a vengeance.
No longer under Rob's orders, I closed myself up like a clam shell and turned back towards my window. Switched my phone off.
The train began to slow as we approached Liverpool Lime Street.
The boy got up. His hands were in front of his crotch but as he moved towards the door I could see that he still had a stonking erection in his jeans. He didn't look at me on the way past, but as the doors opened he turned and stared at me for a moment. He stepped off and stood on the platform, not moving, watching me through the window until the doors closed and the train began to move off. At first I thought that his expression was one of disbelief, but then I saw something else in it: that boy wanted me.
Fuck it, I thought. I smiled at him, and gave him a slow wink.
The train set off again. The next stop was mine.
It seemed that public humiliation was one of the many things that Rob was into. Although I'd been as embarrassed as all hell while I'd been doing everything he'd told me to, I realised I'd got off on it bigtime. That had been one incredible orgasm.
The spunk in my jeans had really cooled by the time we reached my station. It felt very wet and very sticky. I stood up, my hands covering my crotch as nonchalantly as possible. Self-consciousness had returned in spades now, and every single person I passed on my way home seemed to be staring directly at the blindingly obvious spunk-stain. I don't think my face returned to its usual colour until I'd got home and closed the door behind me.
I got his pics back up on my phone and looked at them. At that sexy, gorgeous bastard in those tight, tight jeans. He'd talked about restraints. And things that will let me control very precisely whether you're able to cum or not. I had no idea what those could be, but my cock was getting hard again at the thought.
Perhaps chatting to Rob in public wasn't a good idea; I dreaded to think what the bastard would make me do next time.
I couldn't fucking wait.