THE QUESTION WAS: HAVE YOU EVER HAD SEX IN PUBLIC TRANSPORT?
It was a hot May day in Rome in the mid-90s. I had spent an afternoon at Il Buco, a gay clothing-optional beach near Ostia, back in the days when nudists were plentiful and beautiful (but I digress^). Although I had had a lot of fun in the dunes (and that's a different story*), I was still feeling horny when I reached the station. There were only four or five of us (all male) waiting for the train that would take us to the city centre. I walked to the last carriage. It was empty except for a sexy skinhead I had seen earlier outside in his wet speedos. He was now wearing khaki shorts. I noticed his attention and I sat right in front of him. That is, I guess, what a Roman does in a carriage that’s virtually empty. When the train started to move, the skinhead pulled out his semi-hard cock through the leg-side of his shorts and started to feel my leg, moving his hand up my thigh towards my crotch, inside my baggy shorts. I leaned forward, grabbed his cock and started to suck it. There was another guy – skinny, dark haired, with thick rim glasses, wearing a flowery shirt and red three-quarter-length trousers – who suddenly appeared in our wagon, hoping – I imagine – to be allowed some “audience participation”. But before two became three, we had to interrupt our session as the train reached the next station and filled up with a flock of local commuters. I tried to figure out how to make conversation with the fit skinhead. But he kept ignoring me and, when he pulled a book in French from his bag, I hesitated on what language to use. He left the train two stops before me.
^First digression: That was one of my first experiences of seeing people using mobile phones. Handsets were massive back in the nineties. The phones were clunky and black, almost as big as the sizeable penises of the nude men (tall, dark and handsome) who were using them, sitting on their sunbeds, legs wide open, a glass of spritz in their left hand.
*Second digression: I was walking naked through the dunes towards the station; a beautiful Italian man in a sarong appeared in the distance; he waved at me and approached me with a smile; he was brown-haired, green-eyed, slim, smooth and tanned; he took a condom out of his bag and pulled it over my hard cock; he turned around, dropped his sarong, leaned forward and waited; inexperienced, I struggled to enter his unlubricated arse; he took another condom, rolled it over the first condom and got me to fully penetrate him; ‘Spinge! Spinge!’ he shouted, ‘push!’; I tried to push but the position was awkward; I pulled out without coming; I don’t think he came either; I never even got to see his dick; he turned his face towards me, put his sarong back on and walked off with a smile shouting: ‘Ciao, bello!’