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t’s Thursday, 7.45pm. As always, the tube carriage is packed full. As I stand on the platform waiting for the train to pull up, I sigh and wonder why I didn’t take that job outside the city.

Sweaty, disgruntled people are squashed up against the windows of the carriage as it comes to a stop. The doors slide open and, as always, there’s a mad rush to get on. I usually like to step back and let others on, and sometimes will even wait for the next train, but today I’m not in the mood. I’m late leaving work as it is, so I’m not prepared to wait. So, clutching my backpack tightly I push myself onto the train with everyone else. Stepping into the carriage I’m immediately hit by the smell of sweat. Grown men in suits and ties are baking in the heat. Sweat patches show up on white shirts everywhere and beads of sweat run down faces. I get pushed up against a rather large guy, phone in hand, who smells of cigarettes and booze.

The doors swing shut and the carriage jolts into action. I scan the sea of faces around me. The crowd is mostly commuters, dressed in uncomfortable work clothes. There are three girls chatting loudly, a guy clutching a suitcase and trying to stay out of everyone’s way and then I notice Him. Leaning casually against the glass is a tall, well built Adonis of a man. Dressed immaculately in a dark grey suit, crisp white shirt and deep blue silk tie. He’s about 6 foot, muscular and clutching a gym bag in one hand. His hands are big, strong and defiant. He grips the strap of his bag and I immediately daydream and think of those hands grabbing my waist as he pulls me into a strong, loving embrace.

I snap back to reality. His skin, a beautiful chocolate brown, is flawless. His face is strong, angular and his lips are soft and full. He smiles. I blush. Did he smile at me? The train pulls into the next station and there is an awkward rearrange as people leave the train, and others get on. I move position, closer to Him as people fill up the space behind me. I’m almost standing opposite Him now. My heart beating, I cast my eyes up and lock onto his. He looks back, deep into my eyes and smiles again. Holy fuck he is smiling at me! I go red, look away and smile to myself. Why is this black hunk smiling at me? I’m a skinny white boy; he’s a muscled God. Sure I like to think I’ve got a great ass, but I have never been with anyone anywhere near as hot as Him.

I look back again and this time I don’t look away. He smiles again and slowly traces his hand over the front of his tight trousers, pointing to the growing bulge in his pants. I stare transfixed at the huge mound of flesh in his trousers, and feel myself salivate and my ass twitch with anticipation as I start to see the very definite shape of a hard cock building underneath his suit. Are other people watching this, I think? Is this all a joke? I quickly check around the carriage, but nobody seems to be paying either of us any attention. I look back over at him, lock eye contact, and seductively lick my lips. I make sure to look down at his bulge when I do this and his grin widens even more.

We pull into the next station. Thankfully the crowd reduces as people get off, but no one gets on. There are now fewer people between us, so I am able to stand directly opposite Him. I take in the full view and remind myself just how sexy this man is. I can tell from the way his suit bulges in all the right places that he is not just well built, but that he’s ripped beyond belief. His biceps flex as he adjusts his grip on his gym bag and his pecs twitch as he adjusts his tie. I continue to watch, transfixed. What should I do? How can I make sure I end the night with this mans cock inside me? The lights flicker as the carriage turns a corner and we pull into the next station. He pulls himself up straight, coughs and gestures with his head for me to get off. He raises an eyebrow at me and smiles as he steps towards the open doors. My heart racing, I follow closely behind, stepping off the train and mirroring his steps towards the exit.

A few people brush past me, temporarily blocking my view, but I keep my eyes trained on his red gym bag so as not to lose Him. We reach the foot of the stairs and he stops, steps to one side and let’s our fellow passengers brush past him. I hover, slightly embarrassed a few steps away from Him.

‘I need to see what you got, boy’ he says, with a soft, dominant voice. I look at him, unsure what he means and just smile sheepishly. ‘Walk up the steps in front of me and work that ass. Show me what I’ll be playing with’ he says.

My heart continues to pound. This is so fucking hot. I walk towards the stairs, pull of the thin jacket I’d been wearing (to better show my ass in my tight jeans) and very slowly begin to walk up the stairs. With each step I make sure to flex my buttocks to give him the best possible view. I don’t turn around, but I can feel him just a few steps behind me, watching intently. With each step I think about his growing cock, about feeling it warm and thick between my cheeks and how good it would feel sliding in and out of me. As I get to the top step, his hand grabs my left ass cheek and he squeezes it firmly. 'Follow me’, he commands.