“Stand still; face the platform.”
As people pass by, some look to see me standing slightly stooped, my hand exploring under the loose skirt of a young girl, most probably righting her knickers. Of course there are no undergarments; I am actually toying with the butt plug, stimulating the little gland which serves as the vestige of Danny Boy’s maleness.
“Feel good?”
With a coy smile, Danny Boy nods. My free hand tweaks his little n*****s. The nubs begin to crinkle just as a matronly woman in a uniform glances through the train car window. Danny Boy squeals at being so publicly exhibited. His head bows, but he obediently remains standing as the woman pauses to watch.
My exploring hand slides forward between the thighs. Danny Boy knows to part his feet as I gently knead the empty scrotal
