Sparky

Sparky – I call him Sparky – was reading the newspaper at the corner of Brunswick and Gertrude Streets, as I was waiting for a tram this morning. Lean, strong, in shape, kind of studious looking, in a studly kind of fitness, running, exercising bloke, kind of way. Short wavy, dark hair, handsome, boyish face, nice eyes, nice mouth, gun metal grey pin-striped suit.

As it turned out we were sitting opposite each other in the tram, as he read the Financial Review.

Oh, I'm still feeling a little drained from my cold and I'm feeling a little lack lustre in the mornings. So, I sat and day dreamed... and gazed at Sparky, not really intentionally, he was just in my direct view.

Tight stomach, narrow waist and nice thighs; the pin-stripes sliding up his legs, over his thighs, all stripes, seemingly, meeting at a one point, where his shapely balls sat plumply on display. He was reading intently, not tuned into me at all. I wondered if the shape was all testicles, or if part of it was his cock nestle there. I tried to picture which way it lay, was it to the left, or to the right. (trying not to tilt my head with each thought) Was it lying upwards? Hmm, I thought. Just gazing at his crotch was captivating.

Then I realised he had finished what he was reading and was turning the pages. I glanced up, momentarily, to see a coy smile flash on his face, but then he kept on reading. I gazed back down. He kept reading and I wasn't aware of him looking at me again.

Slowly, his dressing to the left started to swell. What I thought was his left ball, slowly stretched across his crotch, until he was fully boned up. I reckon he had a foreskin, as the end of his hard shaft just seemed to fade away again, no big knob bulge.

I'm imagining it, I thought. And I would have believed it was all in my own stupid mind, except that when I first wondered which way his cock lay, he just had a round lump in the front of his pants, like two quarter oranges stuffed down there side by side. Now he had a definite bar laying out to the left. Thick.

He kept reading, seemingly unfazed. I gazed at his hard-on unfazed. He didn't acknowledge me or what I was looking at, for the rest of the trip, but his cock stayed hard.

When he got off at Queen Street, he flashed the most transient smile at me, as he adjusted himself and then he got off the tram without looking back.