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Late one night when I was about 20 years old, I was standing on a subway platform, waiting for the next train to take me home after a long day of work.
I decided to walk over to a row of seats near the tail end of the platform so I could take a load off. There were very few people in the station, but there was a man already sitting in one if the seats, a book bag on his lap. From a distance he looked to be in his early forties, but as I got closer I realized he probably wasn’t much older than I was, 24 or 25 at most, but was going grey prematurely. He had this slightly nerdy look and shy demeanour, and wore glasses that were a few years behind in style.
He must’ve felt me absentmindedly staring at him, because he turned his head toward me and looked me straight in the eyes as I got closer.
He had the most striking eyes I’d ever seen. They were steel blue, almost metallic, which brought out his dark pupils, his full head of silver hair and incredibly thick and long eyelashes. It felt like they could stare directly into my mind. This sent an intense shiver up my spine. I immediately looked away, surprised by this sudden surge of sensations. But I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked by him.
That made me feel a little weirded out, so I opted to walk a little further away and not sit down.
As I stood there, I felt the strongest urge to turn my head back around and see if he was still looking at me. The hair on the nape of my neck stood up at the idea, and I felt my cock getting hard.
This was all very confusing. I’d never reacted this way to making eye contact with anyone, man or woman.
But the need to look at him again grew too strong, so I turned around slowly to give him a furtive glance.
He immediately looked away and his cheeks instantly turned crimson red. To my great surprise, this made my heart race and my cock grow harder still. I turned my back to him one more.
What was happening to me?!? I’d never gotten hard from such an interaction, let alone with a man! And I was HARD. Harder than I’d been in quite a while, in fact.
I felt a drop of water fall into my hand. I looked down and quickly realized it was sweat, dripping down from my chin. My face felt boiling hot. I must’ve been blushing as hard as he was.
Again I thought “what’s going on?! I never blush!”
I felt self-conscious about the sweat on my face so I tried to wipe some of it away with my sleeve. In doing so I snuck another look at the guy, and did an almost comical double take.
He’d taken his cock out of his pants and was shielding it from anyone else’s view with his book bag.
This time I didn’t look away. I couldn’t look away, in fact. I was shocked, even mesmerized. Nothing like this has ever happened to me. This was 1995 or 1996, the internet was barely a thing, let alone smart phones and “dating” apps. Porn was hard to get your hands on, and I was too shy to buy it for myself. A couple years earlier a friend of mine has broken into his dad’s stash and given me a couple magazines, which of hidden in my closet and “used” so much they’d fallen apart after a few weeks.
All this to say : I’d never seen an erect penis, besides my own, and the guys’ in those worn out magazines.
I looked up from his crotch and once again looked at his face. He was staring at me with eyes that seemed even more penetrating than they had earlier.
The train came roaring out of its tunnel and startled me back into reality. I looked around, panicked at the thought that anyone had noticed his exposed cock — and me staring at it! But there was hardly anyone around.
The doors opened and we both got on, him holding his book bag in front of his crotch. We were in the last car and it wad late, so it was completely empty.
My flasher sat down on a seat facing away from everyone else and put his book bag down on the seat next to him. His dick was still out, still very hard, almost as crimson as his face has been moments earlier.
It was… big! He probably has a couple inches on me, and I my cock was somewhere between six and seven inches long. It was also thicker, and like mine, uncut.
He opened his legs wide, unzipped his pants and fished out his balls. DAMN. They must’ve been twice as big as mine. Much less hairy though. Thinking back on it he was probably shaved, which I learned later in life was a good way to make yourself look bigger. This guy knew what he was doing…
I looked up at his face once more. Still the same laser-sharp stare, no smile. I’d look down at his crotch, back up to his face, down and up, down and up… he never stopped looking me in the eyes, never down at himself. I suddenly realized that was what he was craving : my eyes, my stare, my facial reactions to him exposing himself to me.
And I also realized was giving him exactly what he wanted. That thought made me harder and harder still. I could also feel precum leaking out of my dick, so much so that my underwear was starting to feel soaked and somewhat sticky.
Then he sat up from his seat a bit and started pulling down his pants. When they down around his ankles, he carefully pulled them over his shoes. He then folded them up neatly, all the while still staring at me.
What he did next shocked me even more. His held out his folded pants to me. He wanted me to take them.
I was frozen in place. I couldn’t believe this. He held them out even closer to me and very slightly stuck his chin out toward me, as if to say “go on, take them.”
I held out my hands to take his pants from him. Then he broke his stare for the first time in a good two or three minutes. He looked at my own book bag, which I was barely aware I still held in my right hand. Then looked up at his pants, then bag down to my bag, then back up to my eyes.
The instruction was clear : put my pants in your book bag. I frowned at his, incredulously, then raised my eyebrows as if to say “are you serious about this, dude?!”.
He nodded his head, almost imperceptibly.
I put the bag down on the floor of the train car, unzipped it and stuffed his pants into it.
When I stood back up, he was holding his white briefs out to me. I gasped. But I understood. I took from his hand.
He looked at my hand holding his underwear, back up at me. Then he slightly stuck his chin out at them and gave a soft but undeniable sniff, and started back up at eyes, more intently than he yet had. Again I understood what he meant.
I raised his briefs up to my face and gave them a quick smell. His eyes widened and he nodded his head, still ever so slightly, but several times as if to say “yes, yes, that’s if, do it again, but sniff harder.”
I obliged, still reeling from this surreal experience, still hard as a rock and soaking my undies more and more.
I pushed his briefs into my face this time, closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. The smell was a mix of laundry detergent, bleach and mildly musky sweat. It wasn’t unpleasant. It was, in fact, intoxicating.
I opened my eyes and saw that his face was even redder than earlier. Ditto for his cock, which has started visibly throbbing and seemed harder and girthier still.
So I inhaled again, this time keeping my eyes open and staring right back into his.
