Encounter on the # 3 Subway (New York) - 2. Chapter 2 The Encounter

Chapter 2 –

At the 96th Street station, Bruce and Mark each pushed their way into the crowded Number 3 express subway. Mark, who remembered the hot and sweaty rides in crowded subways years earlier, gave a thanks for the cool air-conditioned comfort of the packed car.

As the train rumbled out of the 96th Street station, Bruce and Mark each steadied themselves by holding on to a pole. Mark’s other hand dangled at his side. As he mentally reviewed his schedule for the day, he was irritated that he was pressed against this assortment of fellow riders. As the train pulled into the next station, 72nd Street, he suddenly realized the back of his dangling hand was pressed against someone’s body. When the door opened at 72nd Street no one exited but more people pushed into the already overcrowded car. As the train lurched out of the station the back of his hand pushed harder against the unknown body. Intrigued by the situation, Mark turned his head and suddenly realized his side was pressed against a cute redhead wearing a CUNY (City University New York) sweatshirt. He wondered if this person was aware of the contact. Mark used the opportunity of the subway car’s swaying to press harder. If this activity annoyed the student, the redheaded twink could have easily shifted his body away from the intrusion. The back of Mark’s hand felt a definite bulge in the loose-fitting pants. He looked at the young man out of the corner of his eye who appeared to be totally oblivious to the contact. Since it was the back of Mark’s hand and the car was excruciatingly crowded it was likely this innocent looking specimen was not unaware of the invasion. Mark was now both intrigued and horny. Mark had used the opportunity of the movement of the jerking car to turn his hand around. As the train suddenly stopped somewhere between 72nd Street and 42nd Street, the next stop, his hand was now cupping the groin area. As Mark held his hand against the young man, he was not sure if the bulge was growing or if it was just wishful thinking that there was a response to his assault. He quickly glanced at the young man’s face that showed no emotion. Although the car was crowded, it would be possible for redhead to move away if he was aware of the activity and repelled by it.

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As the doors closed prior to departure from the 96th Street station, Bruce grabbed the pole to brace himself so he would not sway into other passengers. Every part of his body was pressed against someone. Over the years, he had gotten used to this sensation. While unpleasant, it was part of riding the subway during rush hour. He concentrated on his plans for the day. The purpose of his trip to lower Manhattan was to visit a computer store to purchase a birthday gift for his grandfather. He had ordered a Samsung A7 tablet on line and had expected to receive it three days earlier. The day prior to the delivery date, he received an email from the supplier stating that delivery would be delayed ten days. Since he and his parents were visiting his grandparents to celebrate Grandpa’s birthday that evening, he could not wait ten days. Searching on line, he found one available at a computer store in lower Manhattan. While deep in concentration in the crowded subway car thinking about apps he would load on the tablet for his grandfather, he felt the pressure of being squeezed in the packed car. Something was pressed against his dick. As he attempted to lean away from the intruder the car lurched pressing him tighter against whatever was down there. He assumed it was the back of a hand. That hand could only belong to one person. Bruce was standing next to the pole that man held on to. The man was directly in front of him and turned sideways. Bruce had not paid any attention to the other passengers as he thought about the birthday present. He assumed this was an innocent encounter with the man not realizing where his hand was.

An intrigued Bruce scrutinized him. He was about the same age or a little younger than his father, smartly dressed in suit and tie, hair neatly trimmed and, to Bruce’s pleasure, had the profile of Mr. Morton, his middle school science and sex education teacher when he was thirteen. As Bruce remembered seeing the handsome teacher naked at the health club locker room years earlier, he felt a tremor through his body. His dick responded at the thought. He suddenly realized the pressure from the back of the hand increased when his dick responded to the thought of Mr. Morton. While Bruce’s brain told him to back away his dick responded differently. He pressed forward. The hand pushed back. While the hand pressure took place down below, the handsome stranger stared off into space. Bruce was now half hard. His emotions were a combination of embarrassment, mortification, humiliation, shame and lust. The lust won out and he pressed against the hand. Wearing baggy pants and loose boxer shorts, there was nothing to hold his dick back. Suddenly, the hand turned so that the palm, not the back of it, was against the dick. The hand opened and gently wrapped around his dick. Bruce pressed forward. The man continued to stare straight ahead. Gradually the hand pressed back as fingers took hold of the half erection. Bruce’s lustful feelings encouraged him to lean in. The hand was now wrapped around the almost fully erect dick hiding in the loose pants. Somewhere between 72nd Street and the next station, 42nd Street, the trained stopped. The face that had been staring into oblivion turned toward Bruce. He spoke, “Nice day, isn’t it.” Bruce was speechless. Finally, he blurted out, “Yea, sure is.” As they gazed into each other’s eyes, the stroking continued. The train started to move. When it pulled into 42nd Street more passengers got off then boarded. The car was no longer crowded and the hidden contact was not possible.

Mark moved his hand up and held the pole with both hands. As he looked at Bruce’s CUNY sweatshirt, Mark asked, “Are you a student at City University?” Their conversation continued as the train headed downtown. Mark asked the red head about his major and classes at CUNY. They discovered each was a Yankee (baseball team) fan. Bruce told about his planned trip to the computer store and gift for his Grandfather. Mark explained that he usually wore casual clothes to work but since he was meeting with a banker concerning an increase in the firm’s credit line, he was wearing his ‘power suit’.

As the train pulled into Chambers Street, Mark reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat. He pulled out a business card and handed it to Bruce. Intently staring into the young man’s eyes, he stated, “I would like to continue our conversation. We should get better acquainted. Text me and we could make a coffee date.”

As the train pulled out of the Chambers Street station, Bruce stared at the card with the name Mark Winters. As he got off at the next stop, near the computer store, he placed the business card in his pocket.

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I hope you found the tale of this encounter interesting. In the 1960s after graduation from a small Ohio liberal arts college, I accepted a position with an international accounting /consulting firm located in lower Manhattan. I rented a room on the upper west side (113th Street between Broadway and Riverside Drive). I started my daily commute to work on the #1 local subway. Then at 96th Street I would transfer to the #2 or #3 express. Often I rode in packed subway cars pressed against an assortment of humanity. I never had an encounter. This story is pure fantasy. As I wrote it, I certainly enjoyed imagining what might have happened. If you have any similar incidents to share, please do!

A Russian friend told me about encounters on the Moscow Metro (subway). Men who were hoping for pleasure during their commute on crowded metro cars would ride in the first car. Clandestine groping often took place. I have ridden on the Metro in both Moscow and St Petersburg, often in the first car on crowded trains. Unfortunately, nothing interesting ever happened. My last visit to Russia was five years ago. I will probably never return.