Photo Story #28 (Patreon)

The majority of people would claim that their commute home from work, particularly when you work in a city and your train home is so packed that you can barely breathe, is hideous and probably the worst part of their day.

For me?

It's my favourite part of my day.

What's not to love?

Sweaty, exhausted studs in their suits, packed tightly together in a space that's so small that you can be completely excused for brushing against them.

Seeing a handsome investment banker in a designer suit, his tie slightly loose, his top shirt button undone, his jacket slung over his arm, his pert suited butt begging for attention.

It's what gets me through the working day.

When I'd first started suffering through the commute, I'd enjoyed the view of the plethora of handsome suited men around me, but I very much kept my hands to myself.

But one evening as I was trying to get on the train just as it was leaving, I was forced to push my way past multiple guys to find a spot where I could at least stand without being completely crushed. As I moved through the train carriage, the back of my hand brushed against this sexy guy's butt and it immediately had my cock standing at attention.

It was such a rush. What had been an innocent mistake due to lack of space had me horny as hell, and the guy in question was none the wiser.

That's when I decided that maybe it didn't have to be an accident.

If the guy was completely unaware then maybe I could put a little more pressure on my brush past? Maybe I could have my palm open and brush past so I could really feel his cheeks?

My mind was running a hundred miles an hour whilst my dick throbbed inside my own suit pants.

Before I knew it, I'd arrived at my stop and the train was emptying out. I hadn't had a chance to test my theory, but I did the following day.

And that's how it started. Every evening I would board the train just before it was due to depart, brushing against guy's suited asses as I found a spot to stand. Sometimes I used the back of my hand, sometimes I used the palm, sometimes I'd give a slight squeeze. Every time, I got hard as a rock.

This lasted months before my dick wanted more.

I boarded the train one evening and was immediately hypnotised by a dark haired stud in his thirties, wearing a white shirt and navy suit pants with polished brown brogues. His ass was like a peach and I knew I had to touch him.

I forced my way through the train and allowed my open palm to brush his left cheek, and just that slight touch was enough to tell me how much muscle there was beneath that soft surface.

I stood a few feet away from him where I could keep my eyes on his delicious ass, but after the first stop, I found myself standing right behind him.

It was too much temptation, but after more people boarded, I couldn't move anywhere. The back of my hand was constantly brushing the back of his cheeks as the train swayed on the tracks. My dick was rock hard inside my suit pants, and I was grateful that I was wearing tight briefs.

As the train continued its journey, I wondered how much I could get away with. I'd probably never see the guy again, so what would it hurt if I properly groped his meaty butt.

Once the idea popped into my head, I knew that I had to do it. I turned to the side so that I was facing away from him, before slowly twisting my hand around so that my palm was brushing his butt instead.

My dick was begging me to take advantage of the situation, and when the train crossed a particularly bumpy length of track, I took my chance and squeezed his right cheek, precum leaking into my briefs at having squeezed the most incredible ass I'd ever seen.

I was surprised that the guy didn't even turn around.

Maybe he didn't even notice? I wondered, and immediately decided to do it again.

As soon as we hit the next bumpy section of track, and the train rocked from side to side, I groped his ass again, practically moaning at the incredible feel of it.

But this time, he did notice, and before I could even withdraw my hand, he spun around and grabbed my wrist, before looking me up and down.

"It's not polite to touch without asking," he said in a deep baritone voice that made my heart stutter.

"Sorry, it was an accident. I was . . ."

"Shut up. You didn't accidentally grope my ass twice after touching it for the last twenty minutes. I'm getting off at the next stop. I suggest you join me. If you want to grope me, you can let me return the favour, but be warned . . . I won't be as gentle."