MIDDAY PARK
I always eat my lunch in the same hidden part of the park. Far from kids, far from noise. Just trees, wind, and my little bench. I like it quiet.
Every day, almost same time, a white car shows up near the dirt road. I don’t know why it stops there. But I know who comes with it.
A man. Big chest. Strong arms. Always in just his briefs. White today. He stays inside the car for a bit, music low, drinking from a red can. Then he steps out slow, like he’s not in a rush to be anywhere.
I try not to look. But I always do.
He stretches like he owns the sun. Arms up. Chest out. The light hits his skin and makes it shine. Sweat already there, like his body is warm just by being alive. I sweep leaves that don’t need sweeping, just so I have a reason to stand there.
Today he leaned on the hood of his car. Closed his eyes. Let the sun hit his face. His hands slid down his sides, slow, lazy. Just touching himself like he forgot other people exist.
Then he looked at me.
I froze. My heart jumped. I thought he’d get mad. But he just smiled. Not big. Just small and knowing. Like he caught me and didn’t mind.
After that, he didn’t hide anything.
He turned a little, not facing me, but not hiding either. His hands moved in slow circles over his stomach, his chest. His breathing got louder. I could hear it even with the birds and wind. He tilted his head back like the heat felt too good.
I felt hot too. My face burned. My hands shook on my broom.
He made little sounds, soft ones, like he was talking to his own body. His hips moved just a bit, like he was following some quiet music only he could hear. It felt wrong to watch. But it felt right too. Like the park itself was holding a secret just for us.
His right hand slid down, fingers tracing the waistband of his briefs before dipping inside. The white cotton stretched as he cupped himself, his cock already thick and hard against the fabric. I could see the shape of it, the head pressing insistently.
His other hand roamed up his chest, thumb brushing over a hard nipple. He let out a low groan, the sound cutting through the quiet air. His fist closed around his shaft through the briefs, stroking slowly, deliberately. The fabric grew damp with precum, a dark spot spreading at the tip.
Then he pushed the briefs down, just enough to free himself. His cock sprang out, thick and flushed, curving up toward his navel. The head was slick, glistening in the sun. He wrapped his hand around it, his grip firm, and began to stroke in earnest. Long, slow pulls from base to tip, his thumb smearing the leaking fluid over the crown. His breathing hitched, his hips rocking into his fist.
With his free hand, he reached back, his fingers tracing the cleft of his ass. He circled his hole once, twice, before pressing a fingertip inside. A sharp gasp escaped him, his body tensing for a second before relaxing into the intrusion. He worked his finger deeper, matching the rhythm of the hand on his cock. The sounds he made now were louder, more desperate. Little grunts and moans that echoed in the clearing.
I couldn’t look away. My own body reacted, a heat pooling low in my belly.
His strokes grew faster, more erratic. His finger pumped in and out of his ass, his other hand flying over his cock. His thighs trembled, his muscles straining.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough. His head fell back, his mouth open.
His body went taut, a string pulled to its breaking point. Then he came. Thick ropes of white shot from his cock, spattering across the hood of his car, his stomach, his hand. He kept stroking, milking every last drop, his body shuddering with the force of it. When it was over, he slumped against the car, his chest heaving. He brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.
After a while, he laughed softly, like he surprised himself. He wiped his face, fixed his briefs, and stood straight again. His eyes met mine one more time.
He smiled again. Slow. Warm.
Then he pulled on his clothes, easy and calm, like nothing special just happened. He got in his car, started it, and drove away like always.
I stood there with my broom, heart still fast, sun still hot on my skin, thinking about that smile all through the rest of my shift.
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