Again, A Loaf of Bread

To continue: I happened to doze off. Two things happen to me on trains-- sleepiness and hard-ons. I can't explain it; it just happens, and I accept it as a matter of course. I woke up in New Jersey, startled and hoping I hadn't drooled or snored. I was, of course, obviously erect. I looked down at it and then over at my neighbor. He had his jacket over his lap and was clearly, plainly, masturbating under it. Watching me. The punching motion under his coat stopped and he looked away. I had the impression that I had interrupted a moment. He folded his hands on top of his jacket, and I tried to make out what he'd left behind, curious now, having heard delicious rumors about red-headed guys. He seemed to be inspecting the passing landscape.

And then he turned his head slowly and wet his lips with his tongue. The train car rocked and rattled, and New Jersey drew past behind him, a smeared backdrop.

"Go back to sleep," he said, quietly; "Please."

I saw his hands press down on the jacket and understood what he was saying, what he was asking of me. I closed my eyes and hear the rustle of jacket and then the noise that skin makes, and I could only imagine what he looked like, his huge marbled cock rising up from his copper bush and zipper teeth. I could hear his breath, how it quickened and caught in his throat. I opened one eye as he tried to direct his load toward the floor. He was bigger than I'd imagined. And then we were swallowed by a tunnel, and the car went dark. He put himself away and got up from his seat without any acknowledgement of my presence-- I was a loaf of bread again-- and made his way to the restroom. He never came back. But I still have that stupid, unreadable book he left behind.