Subway

Angus was an old man, not terribly old, but in his late fifties. He looked quite a bit older than he actually was; his hair, what was left of it, was graying and swept-back, and he habitually wore a long trench coat and an oversized newspaper. Angus liked to sit on subway trains and watch little boys.

Mostly he would just watch, staring at young boys with their mothers as though staring into space. Sometimes he would pretend to be asleep, leaning his newspaper against his chest and peering at the boys through the tiniest slits of his eyes. Always the copious newspaper covered his lap, so that other subway riders would not see the erection that he had from watching the boys.

Sometimes, if the train was especially crowded, he could get away with touching. He was often offered a seat even in the crowded times, because of his age, and he would sit down on the very end of the bench and wait for a young boy to stand next to him, at which point he would covertly reach out and run his hand along a small, smooth butt-cheek, squeezing it like a ripe peach.

Sometimes the boys would cry out and he would pull his hand back quickly. Other times however, they wouldn’t, and he would allow his hand to remain where it was, caressing and fondling the boy’s small butt until the boy left the train. Angus sometimes spent hours riding the trains back and forth, from one end of the line to the other, waiting for his boys.

Once he was fondling a small blond boy of about ten who had not pulled away nor cried out but closed his eyes and clenched his tiny jaw. The boy had been wearing sweatpants, which were thick and did not allow Angus to feel the boy’s contours as much as he wished. At the time, Angus had had with him a cup of coffee. Withdrawing his hand for a moment, Angus dipped two fingers into the warm liquid, and then reached back for the boy.

The boy was standing very close to where Angus was seated on the end of his bench, so Angus had no trouble slipping his hand past the waistbands of the boy’s pants and miniature underwear and grabbing the boy’s butt in his large hand. Once again, the boy’s eyes squeezed tightly shut and his jaw clenched. Smiling behind his newspaper, Angus inserted one coffee-slicked finger into the boy’s anus, sliding it in and out. Then he allowed his second wet finger to join the first and fingered the boy for six stations before the child finally got off the train.

Another good memory was of a time when the train had been so crowded that he had not been able to sit at all. A young boy with wild, messy brown hair had been standing on the very edge of the subway bench, facing inward toward the bench, clinging like a monkey to the metal pole to keep himself steady on the rocking train.

The opportunity had been too good to pass up, and Angus had managed to discreetly maneuver himself over towards the boy. This action placed him right near the door, and at the next stop he was forced to press himself forward as throngs of rush-hour travelers swept off of and onto the train behind him. In doing so, his cloth-covered erection was pushed right up against the little boy’s rear, and the thickness of the crowds allowed him to remain as closely pressed while they sped through the tunnels. The rocking of the train had provided just enough motion that if he squeezed his eyes shut, he could pretend that he was fucking the boy. The two layers of cloth between them had provided quite a bit of friction as well, and Angus had gotten off the train at the next stop with his newspaper held discreetly in front of his crotch to hide the widening wet stain.

One day, Angus was riding on the train with his usual newspaper, when a boy’s arrival on the train made his heart start pounding. This was not because the boy was particularly good-looking, although that also was true of the cherub-like child. No, it was because this boy, unlike all the others, seemed to be alone, un-chaperoned. His lost, bewildered look confirmed that.

Angus lay down his newspaper across his knees as the subway doors slid shut. “Hey little boy,” he said to the child, “are you lost?”

The boy looked frightened and clenched his tiny hands into fists, but nodded. Angus got off the bench and crouched in front of the boy, offering his hand. “Do you want me to help you find your mom?” Again the boy nodded.

Angus lifted the boy into his arms and sat down, placing the boy in his lap between his legs. “The best thing to do when you get lost on the subway,” he said, “is to get off at the next stop and wait for your mom there. I’ll wait with you, and we’ll go talk to someone and tell them what happened, okay?” The boy nodded once more and placed his hand on Angus’s arm to steady himself as the train started moving.

As they rode towards the next stop, Angus felt his erection hardening against the rear of the boy who sat on top of it. His heart was pounding in anticipation; never again perhaps would he get an opportunity so good as this. He practically leapt to his feet when they finally reached the next stop, scooping the boy up into his arms.

They stepped off the train, and Angus said to the boy, “First I need to go to the bathroom, and then we’ll find your mommy, okay?” The boy did not reply. Angus looked around at the station, pleased to see it didn’t seem crowded.

He was even more pleased when he saw the bathroom. It was a horribly filthy affair, so disgusting that no one in his right mind would actually use it. In fact, he saw one man ahead of them take one step into the bathroom and then back out in disgust, waving a hand in front of his nose and heading towards the subway exit.

Angus brought the boy into the bathroom and tried the stalls until he found one with a working lock; some of the stalls didn’t even have doors. A toilet at the end of the row had obviously overflowed, and a thin layer of water coated the floor under all the stalls. Overhead, a fluorescent light flickered temperamentally. Angus closed and locked the stall door behind them.

Angus set the boy down so that he was standing on the toilet seat with his butt to Angus and held an arm around the boy’s waist to prevent him from moving. With the other hand, he pulled the boy’s pants down, and then unzipped his own fly and pulled his penis out.

With his hand around the boy’s waist, he pulled the boy back until the boy’s rear was pressed up against his erection, but he did not enter the boy yet. Instead he stuck three fingers into his mouth and wet them copiously with saliva.

The boy had started to cry softly, and Angus hurried on with his task, afraid the boy might yell and call attention to them. He took his fingers out of his mouth and moved back a little, exposing the small naked ass. Bracing the boy against his arm, he pressed first one, then two, then all three fingers into the boy’s anus. The boy started to cry out, but Angus lifted the hand of the arm bracing the boy and slapped it across the boy’s mouth. He drove his fingers into the boy and slid them back and forth until they glided easily, then removed them and wiped them off with some of the toilet paper from the stall.

Finally, he used the hand to guide the tip of his erection to the boy’s stretched anus and pushed it into him. The boy let out a muffled cry behind the restricting hand as he was penetrated, and tears trickled down Angus’s fingers.

With one hand still covering the boy’s mouth and the other hand bracing the boy’s small body, Angus thrust into him. The boy was extremely tight, more than he had thought possible. In all his fondling and sneaking perversions, he had never actually taken a boy before. It was even better than he had imagined.

Angus reached over to the toilet paper dispenser and unrolled nearly an entire roll, wadding up the paper into a bunch. Then he shoved that bunch into the boy’s mouth to keep him gagged so he could place both hands on the boy’s hips and thrust into him with more force. The boy cried out against the gag as Angus’s large cock moved inside him, tearing back and forth with manic intensity. Angus used his hands to hold the boy’s butt cheeks as far apart as he could as he slammed into the kid, taking him over and over.

When finally he came, Angus kept himself buried to the hilt inside the little boy. Then he took the slightly moist wad of toilet paper out of the boy’s mouth and placed it on the boy’s anus, pulling the boy’s pants up to keep it in place. This way he hoped to keep the cum from staining the boy’s pants as it leaked out.

Then Angus paused for a moment, not sure what to do now. The child’s crying had died down to sniffles, and his silence suggested that he would not be likely to approach anyone for help. Especially not now, after this experience with a stranger. So...

So, would it be possible to pass this boy off as a sullen son, at least for as long as it would take to get the boy back to his apartment? Angus smiled. He was sure of it.

“Come on boy,” he told the child, taking him by the hand. “Don’t cry. I’m going to take you home now.”