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Tube Ride

By HM69

Copyright reserved by HM & Hunter

Published by Hunter n Prey

Smashword Edition

Please note, this is a GAY fiction book.

Please beware of any legal requirements in your region / country before buying and reading this book.

Please do not read this if you are emotionally, culturally, socially or legally unable to handle homoerotic content.

Forward by the Authors

Have you ever had an unexpected conversation with a stranger that went off the tracks and took you on a journey well outside your comfort zone, and yet, led you to a cumfortable place you never expected to go to?

Jon Hardwick’s routine tube journey does exactly that! His Tube ride becomes rather memorable when a tattooed stranger cums up to talk to him.

This story is inspired by an actual conversation I had with a tattooed guy on the tube one day. I was a newbie on Tumblr at the time and had seen countless tattoos of sexy and scary variety. At the time, paw print tattoos were all the rage – bear claw, fox foot, lion’s paw etc were all over the tumblr blogs I followed at the time.

Guy opposite my seat had an amazing array of tattoos all over his body and his baldhead. A large bear claw was the most prominent of all. Checking the carriage for absence of any familiar faces, I took a gamble and started up a conversation with the scary-tattooed guy. It was the oddest, craziest conversation I have ever had – in or out of the tube!

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Tube Ride


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Tube Ride

Jon wasn’t sure how to react. A big burly man came up to him and started talking to him in the tube. Tattoos were crawling up out of his t-shirt and a chameleon clambered on his big bald head. It was only small talk at first. What time is it, weather, sports results from last night etc. But then he started to ask more personal questions. He was asking Jon about the small bear’s paw print tattoo on his forearm, his sexual preferences and where he was going. It was only 3pm and Jon wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. Or rather, he wasn’t sure if he wanted this conversation to go where he thought it was going. It would have been different at a pub or a club, but this was the tube!

Without much warning, the burly man came up close to Jon, reached behind his red and blue paisley tie and unbuttoned the middle of his shirt. He was right in front of Jon. Others in the carriage probably couldn’t see the big guy do anything except get close, a bit too close, in a nearly empty carriage. The stranger’s hand dived in behind the blue striped fabric of Jon’s M&S shirt and pinched Jon’s left nipple. Shocked. Surprised. Jon quickly glanced around the carriage to see if anyone had noticed.

There was an old granny knitting a blue jumper. A respectable gentleman in a pinstripe suit was absorbed in reading the Financial times. A devout Jewish man with a black hat rocked back and forth reading a thick book in Hebrew. Muslim lady in a voluminous black hijab was dozing at the far end of the carriage. Phew, no one was looking at them.

Maybe he should say something.
Maybe he should stop the stranger from mauling him in public.
Maybe he should decline the man’s advances, after all, who was he to judge if what Jon liked in terms of sex?
Maybe he knew the man and this was a carry on from an earlier conversation.
Too many maybes for a hot afternoon!

Jon planted his feet firmly on the ‘rubberised’ floor of the tube as it turned an invisible bend, screeched and lurched before steadying itself again. The dark tunnel sped past as fast as Jon’s thoughts in his confused mind. His left nipple was being rolled between the man’s rough fingers as his intense blue eyes stared down at him from above. Another pinch. This time it was harder than before.

“Do I know you?” Jon asked in a hoarse whisper. Despite the fact that he had rolled up his sleeves, he was beginning to sweat. His lips were dying rapidly. His tongue involuntarily licked them to revive them. He noticed the man smile. Shit, baldy had misread this signal for sure. “Have we met before?” Jon tried a different tact.

The stranger’s tongue came out slowly, deliberately, and licked his own upper lip. It went back in, played back and forth behind his lips, puffing them out. He licked his lower lips, moistening them with a thin layer of saliva. “We are meeting now aren’t we - Jon? Jon Hardwick.” His unwavering gaze pinned Jon against the back door of the carriage.

How does he know my name, my full name? Jon panicked!
Jon could not place this bald burly man with way too many tattoos for his liking.
He wasn’t one of the ‘regulars’ at any of the pubs Jon visited near his home or workplace.
He wasn’t from his friend circle for sure – way too gruff and rough.
He certainly wasn’t one of his uptight, suited and booted corporate customers.
Who was he?
“Sorry, but how do you know my name?”

The stranger’s eyes smiled as he flicked Jon’s identity tag with his free hand. He toyed and pulled the purple lanyard with acid green writing around Jon’s neck. Phew thought. At least he is not some acquaintance from a dark alley. “You can’t go around pinching people’s nipples in a public place.” Jon tried to take back the initiative from this strange situation. “It’s not even tea time yet.” OK, so the last bit sounded stupid once he actually said it aloud. But it was too late to take it back. Jon wasn’t sure how to take this conversation, encounter, whatever you want to call it, forward.

“That tattoo of yours tells me you don’t mind being a sub anywhere, anytime.” Burly man’s nose was now only inches from Jon’s face. With one hand he continued to maul Jon’s nipple and with his other hand he caressed a ‘bear claw’ tattoo on Jon’s neck.

Shit, a crazy tattoo in a crazy tattoo parlour in a crazy Greek resort with crazy friends meant he wanted to be a sub? What’s a sub for fuck’s sake screamed Jon in his brain.

Suddenly, Jon felt a hand reaching the back of his trouser.

Shit, he was being pick pocketed in broad daylight!

But before he could scream, he felt cold fingers dive in the small space behind his belt and massage his ass crack.

“What the…!” But Jon’s voice sounded small as the tube blew a whistle and slowed down for the next stop.

The stranger moved himself slightly to the side to let the pin-stripe suit get past him and get off.

His right hand buried itself deeper in Jon’s trouser. Jon could feel thick nails scratching the tender skin between his ass cheeks.

“Please stop. We are in public.” Jon scanned the empty platform, hoping no one could see what was happening to him. Train doors whooshed as they closed and the stranger’s left hand moved down Jon’s torso, caressing his ABS.

“You have a fit body.” The stranger complimented Jon on his taut abs. “And you like to go commando. I like it.”

Jon’s heart raced with the tube as it picked up speed.

What did the stranger want with him?
Why was he mauling him in public?
In public?
“Please stop. You…we can’t do this. It’s too public.” Jon tried to sound reasonable.
“No one cares. Trust me.” The stranger smiled, revealing a row of strong white teeth against his tan skin. “Unless you scream rape, no one will intervene. We Brits don’t ever interfere.” Taking his left hand out of Jon’s shirt, “We are too proper to protest, aren’t we Jon?” and with that he proceeded to slowly unzip Jon, pinning him with a steady gaze.
Oh God. This was too scary, too exciting, too exhilarating, too surprising, too fast for Jon. With a flourish of a magician, the bold, burly stranger pulled out Jon’s dick in the glaring light of the tube. He started to slowly massage Jon’s hard-on. The right hand found Jon’s ass hole and a finger circled it before trying to plunge in. Jon tensed up front and back. A finger circled Jon’s glans, scratching him as the big guy scraped some pre-cum off and brought it to his mouth. After a lick, he offered his finger to Jon. Jon shook his head and the man licked his own finger with relish.
Jon shot a scared look at the carriage.
The old lady was shifting nervously in her seat. She must have seen something – she must have! Maybe she didn’t like that they were standing a bit too intimately in an empty carriage.
The Jewish man was still fully immersed in his book.
The woman in hijab was thankfully still asleep.
“What are you doing?” Jon asked in a hushed voice, desperate not to be heard.
“Unless you are the Pope, it should be obvious Mr Hardwick that I am trying to ravage your modesty and virginity in public.” His voice was as steady as his strokes on Jon’s raging hard-on.
Jerking Jon slowly at first, the bald man picked up speed as he made slow moaning noises. He wanted to let Jon know how much he was enjoying wanking him in the tube. He kept vibrating his tongue rapidly between the corners of his lips. Jon was mesmerised! The sensation of being jerked, travelling at speed, on public transport, during the working day was way beyond his ‘normal’ experience. Jon’s heavy breathing was turning the tattooed man on. He was smiling, licking his lips and biting mockingly to show Jon what he wanted to do.
Jon’s pre-cum provided copious lubricant for the stranger’s hand. The pairs’ heart beat were racing as fast as the train. Jon felt his nipples tighten and become super sensitive. His balls rose in their lose ball sac and gravitated towards the base of his shaft. Jon’s toes curled in his shoes and his breathing became more ragged as the burly man tightened his grip on Jon’s dick, increasing the rapidity of his milking motion.
Jon’s pupils dilated, light exploded, as the big guy’s finger popped through into his ass and the tube screamed as it exploded out of the tunnel into daylight.
“Stop.” Jon’s voice was drowned out by train’s whistle.
Jon’ cum overflowed the encirclement of the stranger’s fingers on Jon’s dick. They stained his work trousers and shot all over the floor of the tube. The bald man brought his wet fingers to his nose, took a long sniff and wiped them on his dark green camouflage t-shirt. He removed his right hand from Jon's bruised butt and wiped it on his own torn jeans. Tube slowed down for the station ahead.
“What now?” asked the stranger, as the train came to a stop. His mischievous wink let Jon known that he was expecting to be invited back to Jon’s pad for a return favour.
“I am getting off here. I have taken the afternoon off to go to my granny’s funeral.” With that, Jon popped his dick back in the trouser, zipped up, picked up his satchel and swung it diagonally over his torso.
“Thank you for letting me know what a ‘sub’ means.” Jon smiled as he got off.
The bald man smiled back through the closing door, licking his fingers to show his appreciation for 'Jon Hardwick'.


© HM and Hunter

By Hunter n Prey


Hunter and I, write, edit, proof read, look for artwork, create the book cover etc ourselves. Therefore, we are eternally grateful to our negligent spouses and off-mood children who have no idea what we are doing for endless hours on the PC. Without their benign neglect, we would not have found each other on the net or be able to write our books.

We are very grateful to for providing us with free pictures for the cover art.

We would like to also acknowledge and thank which has provided us with an endless stream of ‘inspirational’ pics, gifs and videos for our stories.

We are grateful to Smashwords for creating an environment at where we can publish and share our homoerotic fantasies with as wide an audience as possible across the globe.

Most importantly, we are grateful to YOU – our audience. Without our readers, there would be no point to this entire exercise! So we acknowledge and THANK YOU for providing us with a reason to write. We thank you for reading our stories, writing to us and following us on our Tumblr blogs

HM & Hunter

About the Authors

Hunter and I are soulmates who live and work thousands of miles apart. Our closets are very claustrophobic and if it wasn’t for the internet, we would have died frustrated old men, believing our fantasies were our own perverted purgatories. Thankfully, living in the age of internet has allowed us to live with sanity and dignity denied to so many men, women and transgender people in the past.

As one of our safety valves, Hunter and I write sexual stories together, adding to each other’s sexcapades. Sometimes we expand on a chance events. Sometimes we write about ‘WHAT IF…’ moment in our lives. Sometimes it’s purely fictional – a dream, or a nightmare, that would, could, consume us if we ever let it become a reality.

HM & Hunter

Our Other Books

Between the Sheets

Night with Nonu

Fist Full of Gringo Dollars

Kinky Kim

Tube Ride

Teddy Brown

Bi Chance

Terrible Twins

Soldier’s Son

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