I’m not much of an exhibitionist.
I’m sitting on a park bench, a little bit away from the road. I’m on the grass verge, a great big strip of green between a slab block and the street. The trees around throw shadows over me. The ground at my feet is covered in loose gravel, and while I’m in plain view, there is no direct light on me at all.
I’m trying to expand my boundaries. This place is near enough that I can jog home.
It’s not dark, really. The bus stop is lit, a short distance away. A few street lights shine their yellow glow, illuminating the road in spots. The corridor of the block of flats behind me is pretty bright. But little light reaches my quiet park bench.
That’s why I picked it. I’ve run past it plenty of times. I ran here tonight, thinking about what I would do. The thought made me hard.
No one can see me clearly. Anyone in the block behind me might see my back. Someone driving past wouldn’t see me clearly. The tree beside me blocks me from the bus stop. I’m hidden in plain view.
I’m sweating from the run. The anticipation made me hard. My cock was swinging in my shorts the whole distance here. I didn’t wear any underwear, and these shorts have no webbing.
I spread my legs wide, and my running shorts are so brief that a little flick is enough for my hard rod to pop out, parallel to my right leg at first, and then it sticks up a bit.
I haven’t fucked in a week, and I don’t usually jack off. My dick is hard, like wood, and as I slip my foreskin back I can see that my cockhead is so red and swollen that it’s turning purple.
I lean back, just a runner taking a break. I turn my head from side to side. It’s late - no more buses are running, and the place is almost silent. I don’t see anyone.
My right hand sneaks to my cock, circling the head, slipping my foreskin back and forth over it. I breathe heavily, feel more sweat break my skin.
My left hand slips under the open armhole of my dark blue and red singlet. I run my fingers over my pec, touch my nipple.
I catch my breath, hiccup a gasp, try to stay quiet as I jerk my cock. I’m not a quick or easy cummer.
A car is coming. I tug my shorts back up over my dick, try to look innocent as the car drives past. Anyone looking out the back would see me uncover myself and continue jacking.
It feels good, the slow, steady rhythm of my self-play. My fault for not jacking off quickly and often. I have practiced staying hard for a long time, holding back my ejaculation so I can properly please my bottoms, varying my pace so I can hold back the load.
I do the same thing now. I speed up, quick flicks over the head, then slow back down, rubbing myself gently. I wish I could manage some long slow strokes up and down the shaft, but that would be too obvious.
I move my hand down, freeing more of my cock, releasing my balls which hang down, touching the cool cement bench. Free from my shorts, my cock points almost straight up. Fuck, I’m hard.
I stroke my balls in time to the touches on my nipple, which is tight from arousal. I slip my foreskin back, leaving it bunched up behind my hard, shiny dickhead. A slight breeze blows and the tip of my cock feels cool. It reminds me how exposed I am.
I snake my right hand up my body, mirroring my left hand. I’ve got both hands teasing my nipples, rubbing my pecs, and my legs are spread wide, my cock hard and pointing up with the head showing. Must be a hell of a view. It sure feels good.
I grab hold of my nipples, pinching them gently, pulling. The feeling makes me shudder, and my erection bobs up and down.
I hear something, and I swiftly close my legs, doing my best to nudge my cock back into hiding. I turn my head, and see an old Malay lady walking around the corner, heading towards the lift landing. The sounds of her shuffling in her slippers tipped me off.
She can’t have seen me, no angle, but I find myself feeling nervous and thrilled. I’m breathing heavily now, mostly from excitement. I would think that being nearly discovered would make me soft, but it has the opposite effect. I feel like my cock is made of stone, or metal. It’s very hard, and hiding it is difficult. My balls, too, have tightened up, not fully, but they have retracted a bit.
The lady did me a favour. My major boner is hidden by my closed legs, as a car approaches, and then slows down. It stops at the bus stop, and a couple of people get off. I stay where I am, frozen, until they walk into the blocks of flats and the car drives off.
I spread my legs again, and I’m harder than before. Some clear precum has come out of my cock, and I play with it, smearing it over my dickhead, tapping it with my finger to see the sticky string that forms.
I wrap my right hand around my shaft, pushing my foreskin back up, and then I jack it, letting the skin roll up and then slide back and forth. I tug myself up and away from me, and then I feel a sudden pressure deep inside me, under my stomach, and I know I’m going to cum.
I lean forward. It rises, quickly, too quickly, I don’t want to cum so soon, so I put my left thumb and forefinger around the top of my scrotum, and pull down, gently, tugging my balls down and away from the base of my cock. It is uncomfortable, but it works, and I feel the tide recede.
It’s still there, it hasn’t gone away, and I know it’s just a matter of time. I lean back, again, turn to check that I’m alone (I am) and release the grip on my ball sac. I place my left hand on the top of my left thigh, and then spread my legs. I jack myself, faster and faster, strokes that run the length of my cock, and I hear myself grunting softly. The top of each movement pushes my foreskin over the edge of my head, and that sends a pulse of sensation through me.
The tide rises again, but this time I am ready for it, I want it, and I increase my pace, concentrating my short jerks on the top of my cock, rapidly jacking over the head of my so-hard dick, my abs rising and falling with my rapid breaths, riding the feelings from my cock, letting the pressure build, feeling a fresh wave of sweat break out over me, riding the pressure and the pleasure till I’m close, so close, fucking close and then with a final grunt that sounds too loud in the darkness, I let go.
I watch my jizz shoot out, my hips pumping involuntarily with each thrust, each accompanied with a soft grunt, four, five, six spurts that arc away from me and then I’m done.
I let go of my cock and I’m proud to see that it stays hard. I look down at the stripes and dots of my load, thick and sticky, so much, laced across the gravel.
I sit there for a while, letting myself recover, waiting for my erection to go down. It takes a while but it does eventually, my cock still thick and half hard, lying against my right leg, dribbling one last sticky lot of cum onto my thigh.
I think about wiping it off, but decide that I shouldn’t, and then I get up, the remnant of the night’s load clinging to my thigh, before I cool down too much, and jog slowly back home.
I’m hard again when I get home, but I enjoy the full and heavy sensation of it, admiring my body and my hard cock in the mirror when I get out of the shower. I climb into bed, my dick still excited from the adventure, and quickly fall asleep. My cock was hard and wet when I woke up.
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