It was a few years ago now, when you could still stand up in the terraces at football matches and I was about 18 or 19. One day, we were packed into the terraces as usual, watching United in an FA Cup third round tie - United were a small club even then, not First Division, so this was a bit of excitement. I was there with a group of mates and as it was a big match, there was quite a crowd - big enough that you were all crammed in together. And it was cold, too - December weather.
Anyway, we were about fifteen minutes into the second half and the score was nil-nil when I started to feel a hand rubbing the front of my jeans. First thing I thought was that it might have been some queer bloke trying his luck in the crowd, but when I had a look down, the hand that was doing the rubbing was definitely female and attached to the woman who was standing in front of me. She was right up against the concrete barriers and I was on the same wide step as she was. I'd noticed her when we came in because she was a bit of all right - about thirty, which gave her the air of mystery of a 'mature' woman, with streaky blonde wavy hair going past her shoulders and a long leather coat on with a split up the back. So I was pleased it wasn't a queer, but a bit surprised, especially when the hand started to apply a bit more pressure.
Without even looking round, she was rubbing her hand up and down the front of my jeans, her fingers sliding up and down either side of my cock until she eventually slipped her whole hand down further and cupped my balls, squeezing slightly and moving her hand in a circular movement that was pretty much guaranteed to have me hot under the collar. I could feel my cock getting hard as the blood rushed into it, and it started to fill my pants. She stopped playing with my balls then, and moved up to my cock again. By this time it was thick and getting fuller and harder every second - any minute it would be pushing out the front of my jeans but for the moment it was lying across my front, pointing up towards my jeans pocket. She held my cock through my jeans, running her fingers up and down the length of it, every so often squeezing until I could feel the material of my jeans starting to rub against the sensitive end of my knob. Then she pushed my cock back against my belly and started fondling my balls again, beating a rhythm on them with her fingers and cupping them with her hand and then running her hand up my cock, squeezing all the time.