The Green Line

So, since my last story was a bit short, I'll be posting my favorite story of all time here! I first read it on Scaffies a long ass time ago. It's so hot, and I never read anything like it before, and nothing since. Unique storytelling, very city feel to it (which is where I'm from, so it feels like home) and really fucking hot. I just fixed up the formatting a bit to make it more readable. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do! 

It’s late. Fuck I’m late. Another shit day at work. Damn I can’t wait to get home. The Green Line out of Manhattan is packed. I push my way into a crowded car. Standing room only at this point. I strip off my coat. Damn it’s hot in here. Five minutes ago, I was freezing my balls off. Now I’m sweating my balls off. That’s New York for you.

I spot him entering the car. The kid’s cute. Blond crew cut. Scruffy facial hair. Probably trying to look older, but I know he’s young. I must have ten years on him – at least. Couldn’t be more than 22. He stands a touch over six feet. I imagine a hot body underneath his thick winter clothes. I imagine a lot of things under those clothes.

I catch him looking at me. Quickly, he averts his eyes. Typical straight guy behavior. You lock eyes with another guy for more than a second, it’s like you’re going to turn into a fag.

The kid makes his way to center of the car, only a few feet from me. I stare at him. I know I’m not going to turn any gayer. I let my eyes burn on his every feature. He peels off his jacket and holds it in front of him. He does have a nice athletic frame.

With the shuffling of the passengers, we end up next to each other. I could brush my hand against him. I don’t. But I do take in a whiff of his scent. The deodorant mixed with his natural body odor. It’s a bit intoxicating. I tell myself not to drool. You’re too old for this shit. You’re too old for this kid.

Then I feel something brush against me. Did he just grope my ass? My heart starts beating fast. Must be filling up with hope. I go to feel my rear, as if to confirm I wasn’t imagining things. 

Shit. My wallet’s gone. When did that happen? Oh that little fucker. I glance down and sure enough I see my wallet in the hand of the kid. He isn’t facing me, so he has no idea that I’m on to him.

Instead of taking my wallet back or grabbing his offending hand, I reach out and wrap my hand around the kid’s crotch. He freezes in his tracks. His eyes go wide but he doesn’t turn to me.

I lean in close and whisper in his ear, “You got something that belongs to me. I got something that belongs to you.”

I emphasize my meaning by giving his balls a little tug, which causes him to jump.

I continue on, “Now put my wallet back.”

He does, carefully tucking it back into my pocket.

I tell him, “I’m a firm believer that a crime cannot go unpunished. You have two options. A) You can be punished by the police. Or B) you can be punished by me. Which will it be?”

The kid takes a few deep breaths before saying, “B.”

That’s the letter I was hoping he’d choose. I tell him, “If you scream or call for help, the deals off. I’ll turn you in. Understand?”

The kid nods.

I look around to the nearby passengers. His crotch and my hand are conveniently concealed behind his jacket, blocking off the view from others. I doubt any of them would give a shit anyhow. They’re all in their own little worlds.

I begin to close my grip on his balls. His body tenses in reaction. I study his face closely. Its subtle changes to the slightest increase of pressure. I tighten my grip. He tries to mask the pain, but I can see it. He winces. Crinkles his forehead. Bites his lips.

When the train reaches its next stop, I loosen my grip. Probably felt an eternity for him. Too short for me. The passengers file in and out. The kid asks through heavy breaths, “Are you done?”

I respond, “Not even close.”

When the train starts up again, I resume the punishment. I twist my grip on his nuts. Like I’m wringing out his jeans. He lets out a groan before saying, “Please stop. I can’t take anymore.”

I answer, “You want me to turn you into the police?”

“No, if I go jail again, my parents will kick me out of the house.”

Shit. How old is this kid? I don’t want to know.

“Please, I’m gonna fall over.”

The kid’s not lying. His knees start to buckle. I wrap my other arm under his arm and let him lean against my body, so he doesn’t fall over him. Just because I’m helping him stand doesn’t mean I loosen my grip. I continue to crush his nuts. I can feel his whole body trembling.

When we hit the next stop, most the crowd empties out. I walk the kid over to the seats so that we can both get off our feet. He collapses into his seat, but I’m not about to let him rest. His jacket remains on his lap, continuing to provide us our privacy.

I slip my hand down into his jeans, under the elastic waistband of his boxers. My fingers walk over his privates. I grab his meat. And that’s exactly what it feels like – just a mass of raw meat. Slimy from sweat. I can’t really tell what’s what, but as I close my fist around his junk, I get the desired effect. He writhes in agony. He lets out little grunts. His eyes well up with tears.

Some old bald dude stops in front of us. Gives us both the stare down. He asks me, “What’s his problem?”

I’m annoyed by this interruption and answer him shortly, “Groin pains.”

The old guy nods, “Ah growing pains. My sister’s kid went through that when he was in high school. Hurt so bad, was in tears most of his junior year. Now he’s 6’4 and gets all the girls. Hang in there, pal.”

The old guy slaps the kid on the shoulder before walking away.

I resume my full attention to the kid by kneading his junk. Working it all around my hand. Tenderizing his meat. That’s when something interesting happens. Remember how I said I couldn’t tell what’s what with his privates? That quickly changes as it feels like a steel rod begins to form in his pants. As his cock grows in my hand, we both look at each other. His face goes beet red with embarrassment. I am probably grinning ear to ear.

When the train reaches its next stop, the car empties. As the last passenger files out, the kid looks on with desperation. I could tell he is contemplating calling out for help. I bring his attention back to me by giving his nuts a firm squeeze.

I ask him, “You want a little breather?”

The kid nods pleadingly.

I tell him, “Then we’re going to try something else.”

I kneel down in front of him, set his jacket aside, unzip his jeans, and then slide them down. His boxers are red and yellow, and pitching a major tent. It’s like circus is in town. I pull down the kid’s boxers, unveiling his massive cock. It points straight up to the ceiling. I grab his cock, yank it to the side and then let it go to watch it firmly spring back and forth like some girthy antennae.

I begin stroking his dick. He tries to suppress his moans but his pleasure is obvious.

His balls are all rosy and swollen. I take them in my hand, which causes him to jump. But instead of abusing them, I just massage them.

Then I take his cock and bring it to my mouth.

I tell him, “If you call me a fag, I will rip your nuts off. You understand?”

He gives a nod then averts his eyes as if not wanting to see this part.

I dive my mouth down over his cock. I work up and down his shaft, making it slick with my saliva. My tongue slides around the head of his penis, caressing its every curve. Brushing the slit, I could taste his pre-cum. I shove his full 9” down my throat, letting it tickle my tonsils. He moans hard at this point. None of his girlfriends could give a blowjob like this. I quicken my pace, moving my head up and down the full length of his cock.

With his moans rapidly approaching a crescendo, I know he’s close. I seize his testicles in each of my hands and then dig my thumbs in hard into the meaty orbs. A riptide of pain surges through his body. He lets out of scream that must have echoed through the subway. Then an explosion of cum bursts into my mouth.

As I continue to crush his nuts, his eyes go dim and his scream dies down. As he fades into unconsciousness, I ease my grip on his balls. I swallow down the cum in my mouth with a big gulp.

I stand over him and admire my handy work. His dick still glistening from my saliva slumped to the side like some fat slug. His balls are now purplish in hue and swollen to the size of eggs. Fuck. I just scrambled those eggs.

The kid is sleeping so peacefully that for a moment I worry that I might have killed him. My means of checking on him take the form of me punching his naked balls.

His whole body jolts but he remains unconscious.

Yep, he’s fine, I think to myself.

I hop off at the next stop and leave the kid sitting there with his junk hanging out on display. 

Hmm. That wasn’t such a shit day after all.