We'd been sitting opposite each other for nearly forty minutes. It was teeming down with rain in the city streets above us and the subway car was full of damp bodies and even damper spirits, most of them self-condemned commuters on their way to Monday morning misery.

He was lean of face and body but had long muscular legs. I knew these were an indication of what lay between so my interest was immediately aroused. Our eyes had been in constant contact for the entire journey but not a word had been exchanged between us although our bodies had spoken volumes. Now time was running out. Only five stops till the end of the line.

He had one of those collapsible umbrellas on his lap. The sort you carry under your arm or slip in your back-pack. He held on to it as if it was a prize trophy. Or he was cradling his cock. At times he slid it provocatively between one hunky hip and the other. This nearly drove me wild. Then, when the train lurched between stations, he pulled the handle in and out sharply like a simulated fuck, looking me straight in the eye as he did so. This drove me even wilder.

One by one people started reaching their destinations and the car was almost empty except for an irritating bag lady who remained two seats to the right of him and refused to budge. I could have killed her. Even so he now had enough space to stretch out his luscious legs and put the umbrella on the seat next to him. I watched mesmerized as he extended his arm across the tops of the vacated seats on his left. There was something deliberate about it as if he were wrapping his arm round my shoulders. His other hand settled like a homing pigeon on his empty lap. It didn't remain empty for long. Soon a bulge began to appear in his jeans which almost rivalled his sturdy umbrella. I felt an immediate response growing between my own legs but my trousers were somewhat fuller than his so it didn't immediately show. Actually the persistent presence of the bag lady was now making our whole seduction scene even more exciting as brolly boy and I were more or less hip-fucking the narrow space between us.

The train gave a final lurch and stopped. We both got up, still in silent communion, and followed the old woman onto the platform. Each one waiting for the other to make the first move. She stopped suddenly, right in front of us, and re-arranged her bags. Our bodies finally made contact. He ran straight into the back of me, his dick colliding with my butt. An involuntary thrill went through me as I felt his firm hardness rubbing voluntarily against me.

"Nice to meet you," he said.

"Likewise," I answered.

The ice finally broken by his hot dick, he gave me a friendly smile and bounded up the stairs ahead of me towards the exit. As with all today's youth he was a walking advertisement for the latest fashion in underwear. There was a wide expanse between the bottom of his t-shirt and the top of his jeans. What I like to call the 'generation gap.' I could see the beginning of his ass crack through the white briefs which were peeping out from the low horizon of his jeans. Those briefs were as transparent as muslin curtains. The thin dark shadow of black hairline seemed to be grinning at me through the flimsy material in a now-you-see-me-now-you-don't sort of way. It had my dick licking its lips in horny anticipation.

When we arrived at street level he confessed to me that it wasn't his stop. He smiled.

"I was waiting for you to get out so I could follow you," he admitted shamelessly.

"Likewise," I said for the second time in two minutes. "Where were you going?"

"To art school," he said and smiled again. "It's too late now. I've missed my lesson."

"Let's go have coffee." I shouted above the thunderstorm.

"Ok," he replied. Then added rather ambiguously. "I'm game for anything."

"Don't bother to open your umbrella." I said. "The bar's only just around the corner." Then I ventured, "Besides if we get too wet we'll have to take our clothes off to dry."

This time it was my turn to be ambiguous or should I say downright outrageous. He'd made me so hot by then I couldn't wait to get my hands on him.

We sat opposite each other in the coffee bar, as we had in the train, but now our legs were in a tangled embrace under the table. Our wet jeans soon dried off with the spontaneous combustion we were producing between us. As I slowly sipped my cappuccino he slipped slyly out of one of his shoes and rubbed his foot against my groin. I'd often seen it done in movies but this was an erotic first for me. My dick shivered between his hot toes.

"When are we going to fuck?" he asked.

"Now," I answered. "I've got the keys to a recording studio. Nobody's due till this afternoon."

He grinned happily. "Are we going to record our groans and moans? That would be cool."

"Why not," I agreed. "Let's grab a cab."

In five minutes we were there and he was doing a silent striptease for me in the comfortable reception room. I watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. The first thing that met my hungry eyes was the tongue-tempting crevice of his navel. This was followed by the succulent sight of his nifty nipples perched like two birds about to take flight from the middle of his prominent pecs. He was lean but I was glad to see he was all muscle. I licked my thirsty way up his ab track and nourished myself on his nipples. He groaned his consent and ran his fingers through my hair trying to encourage my head due south.

"Undo my jeans," he said. "It turns me on if somebody else undresses me."

It turned me on too. And how. I unbuckled his belt and drew down his zipper. The cold sound produced hot results. Something warm and wonderful was curled up in his snow-white briefs. I pulled them down slowly but surely opening my mouth in wide welcome as he introduced his uncut dick to my face. The skin slid back with a sleazy smile and an intimate moist whisper. My equally moist lips replied.

It was like a wet dream cumin true. Only a short while ago he'd been sitting frustratingly out of reach in front of me, tormenting me with his collapsible umbrella, and now here I was with his beautiful brolly unfurling in my mouth. What a difference an hour made. This morning we had been poles apart and now his love pole was halfway down my throat. How appropriate I thought. Love-poles are destined for love-holes and I had two he could amply fill to the brim.

As he tickled my tonsils with the tip of his dick I inserted my fingers into the yawning cavern that was his asshole. He'd obviously had quite a few thick dicks up there. He moaned with absolute pleasure. I inserted more of my fingers and eventually half of my hand.

"More," he moaned again. This time with rabid, ravenous lust.

Soon I was making a knuckle-duster out of my hand and fist-fucking him, fast and furious.

"Wow," he cried between moans. "That feels fucking great. Where did you learn to do that?"

Of course with his muscular dick almost throttling me I was not in a position to reply so had to leave off servicing him at both ends and come up for air.

"Fuck me." he said.

I threw him on his back, wrapped his long legs round my neck, and did a neat job of replacing my fist with my dick which by now was almost as thick as his rolled up umbrella and ready to do some serious pole dancing.

I rammed my way into him as far as I could go, which was quite some ways I can tell you. Soon I had him sliding, slithering and screaming over the black leather sofa. As I humped and he hollered (between the occasional horny groan of course) I thought of what he'd said earlier. It would have been 'cool' to record our performance. Actually 'hot' might have been a more appropriate word. But, before I could think up any more vocabulary, he let out one last grieving moan of supreme butt-fucking satisfaction and my mouth, face and hair were full of his steaming love juice. I was having my second cappuccino of the day. Only I didn't sip it this time. I drank it in with long guzzling gulps as I came like a geyser inside him, hot streams of cum oozing out of me. Strange, I couldn't help thinking to myself, how the red-hot ardour between lovers can only be cooled by white-hot love juice.

"That was good," he said as he kissed my cum-covered chops. "Tastes pretty good too."

I had to admit he was right although by now I was thinking of cleaning up the mess we had made of the sofa and preparing the reception room for the imminent recording session. I was also more than a little worried that somebody might walk in before we'd repaired the damage. I suddenly realized I didn't even know his name if I had to introduce him to someone. We spoke vaguely about meeting again but I'd bundled him into another taxi before I had time to think about getting his mobile phone number.

Ten minutes later actors and musicians started filing into the studio. One or two sniffed the air a bit strangely but they soon contributed to the pungent perfume with their cigarettes and wet clothes so the lingering odour of leftover sex didn't really penetrate their nostrils.

After we wrapped up for the day, I began to regret getting rid of my boy lover so rudely. Sex with him had been great and I was ready for another heady overdose. It would have been nice to have him curled up in bed waiting for me at home. Or preparing me a candlelight supper. Instead, I'd thrown him away like a used Kleenex or a worn out sex toy.

I consoled myself by thinking I might meet him, or somebody else like him, on my next trip to town. It shouldn't be that difficult. After all they say there are plenty of fish in the proverbial sea. Problem is they're not all goldfish. Still it's basically a question of keeping on the crest of the sexual wave. Your eyes permanently peeled and your dick constantly on the alert. Including first thing on a wet Monday morning. In fact, from my personal experience, it's never too late or too early to go cruising on public transport. I highly recommend it. And, who knows, in the surging sea of unknown faces and unclaimed butts your wandering eyes might suddenly alight on one that tickles your dick's fancy. You might even get to unroll his umbrella.