I worked the top floor.’ When I used the slang that told him just how we’d met, his light eyes flared with flattering interest. He was still pale and tall, but his light blonde hair was long enough to be tied back now and he’d gained some muscle, broadening. Training to fight to the death would do that. I’d spent eighteen months training and had gained some myself, clashing with my child-like face and stringy red hair that made me look deceptively delicate. ‘I’m Keelin of Thorpe.’ The warm praise in his was replaced by shock and then a kind of anger. ‘Why didn’t you challenge me then?’ ‘I didn’t know. I only met my goddess over a year ago. The Chinese champion attacked me, I knew nothing, and she saved me. They, whoever they are, took her away for that. She said if no one came for me to find you and ask what the hell is going on.’ I looked around the cabin which was basically one room with a bathroom that suggested indoor plumbing. Fancy. The furnishings were simple, good quality but. This has stayed with me since then as it only ever happened once!Sometimes the train was so full you couldn’t get on and had to wait for the next where as with the last we were packed together like sardines, the vibration of the train and being pressed up against strangers used to make my cock hard for most of the journey, if I was lucky I would position myself so I had a woman’s arse or hip rubbing against it, occasionally I came in my pants like this but often or not it might need a little help from my hand. I’d slide my hand into my pocket and massage the bloated knob until I was just ready to explode then I’d put myself back up against the person and finish to job, sometimes my timing would be out and I’d end up with a hand full of goo, if I could I’d try to transfer this onto the unsuspecting traveller. When the train was really full I would slowly reach down, pull their skirt or dress up a little and wipe my hand or cock off on the inside of the material, I often imagined.
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