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I begin to gently wank him, moving my hand up and down at a leisurely pace. I slide the foreskin down, slowly, marvelling at it. As if in reply to myself, my hand grasps his cock. I stare at his crotch for what feels like an eternity. Below his cock, his large testicles are pulled tightly against his groin, the scrotum is lightly trimmed. A small bubble of clear precum has formed on the head. He's uncircumcised, and the foreskin has slid down a little. It's large, about 9 inches, and slightly thick. He undoes his jeans and lifts himself as he slides them and his boxer shorts down. In reply he gently pushes my shoulders down, and then I'm staring at his jean covered crotch. I look at him and ask him, stutteringly "Do you want me to.y'know?". I move my hand further up, onto his crotch, and feel his cock through his jeans. I'm so nervous I feel like my heart's going to pull the stop cord and flee out of my chest, into the countryside. My hand continues down, and slides onto his thigh. It feels strange to feel a man's chest, but not unpleasant. He breaks away for a second, and removes his jacket, and we kiss some more. We embrace each other whilst kissing, and my hands run through his hair. His tongue slips into my mouth, and before long we are taken away by passion. What the fuck am I doing? Before I can process any of this, he leans forward and kisses me on the lips. There's an awkward silence for a few moments, then, before I know what I'm doing, I'm sat next to him. I tell him I'm the same, and that I've always wanted to give a blow-job. He's blushing when he says this, which I find quite cute. As all conversations seem to, the topic eventually drifts round to sex. We strike up a conversation about books, and soon move onto life in general.
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He looks up and notices me staring, and I blush. I look at his face, shaved, with dark eyes. He's wearing a leather jacket, black tight jeans, a white t-shirt on a well toned chest and a pair of boots. Across from me is a man, about my age, long dark straight hair falling across his shoulders. More time passes, and I lower my book to give my eyes a rest. I don't pay them any attention, as I'm engrossed in my book. Soon after, the door opens and someone walks in and sits down. The train pulls away, and I lose myself in my book. I enter one on my own, and as the train seems pretty empty, I close the door, lower the blinds and pull a book from my bag. It's an old fashioned train, with those first class compartments where you can shut the door and lower the blinds. The destination is unimportant, but I know there's going to be a long time between stops.