The sun brings them out like freckles, the beautiful boys. But it’s their bulges that fascinate me – especially what they do with them when they think no-one’s looking…..
I was sitting on a bench having my sandwich lunch in the precinct of the Cathedral one warm summer day. Dotted around on the grass between the gravestones were various people enjoying the sun and one another’s company. It was the lunch hour, so lots of young – and older – people had come out to get some midday sun. Many were sitting with friends, laughing, chatting and eating, while some were just laying on the grass sunning themselves.
My eyes were drawn to one young man who came and sat cross-legged on the grass a short distance away and proceeded to unpack a sandwich and a bottle of coke. He took them out of a grey shoulder-bag he was carrying, from which he also produced a book. He proceeded to read his book while he ate his lunch.
He was about 19 or 20, clean shaven, with dark brown hair a little bit long and tousled but very flattering – in a sort of David Cassidy style. His figure was slim and he was wearing and white shirt and light grey trousers and he had been carrying a pale grey tweed sports jacket, which now lay neatly folded on the ground beside him. While he remained sitting in the sun some yards from me, I quietly observed him from my anonymous position on the bench in the shade.
Having finished his lunch, he continued reading his book but now he stretched out on the grass on his side, his head propped up on one elbow. I now had a nice view of him with his feet nearer to me than his face and his whole body illuminated by the sun. His trousers were fairly tight and I could make out the shape of a bulge around his crotch where his trousers were stretched as he lay there on his side, still reading.
He stayed in this position for a while but then he rolled over onto his front on the flat grass facing away from me, with his head propped up on his elbows and his book in front of him. At first, I felt a bit frustrated because I had lost my view of that interesting bulge but by way of compensation, I now had a lovely view of his bum, nicely covered by the tight grey material of his trousers. It was not a pronounced bottom, just nice and well-rounded, and as if to provoke my interest further, he spread his legs a little on the grass, so that I had a view of him right up between his legs to his crotch, now pressed hard on the flat grass.
I don’t know what it was he was reading; it was either something a bit racy or something very boring, because I soon began to notice – fixed as my gaze was on his delightful bottom – that he seemed to be alternately clenching and unclenching his buttocks. I became quite fascinated and quickly realised that he was arousing himself against the flat surface of the grass. There had been no rain for weeks, so the ground was very dry; the grass had also not been cut recently, so it was still quite thick and soft. My heart began to flutter as my imagination undressed him, to reveal his naked body and those milky-white buttocks, clenching and unclenching, on a bed before me.
As if to confirm my suspicions as to what he was doing, he surreptitiously rolled onto his side a little at one point and put his hand down in front of himself – obviously to adjust his tackle - and then he returned to his flat-on-the-grass position. The clenching and unclenching now began again but there seemed to be another kind of movement developing; now, with each clench he seemed to raise himself slightly up on his elbows, and then with every unclenching, he went down again. He was clearly, and deliberately, getting very aroused.
Some time had now elapsed while all this had been going on and he must have realised that his lunch hour was fast disappearing because I saw him stop what he was doing and look at his watch. He then rolled over, back into the cross-legged position, and then he stood up to brush any dust and loose grass off his front. As he did so, he was still facing my direction and I couldn’t help but notice a small damp patch in the front of his trousers, just below his belt and to the right of his flies. Knowing that the ground was very dry, I knew it couldn’t be damp grass, so there was only one other thing it could be; he must have been so aroused that his pre-cum had soaked through his underwear into his trousers. Was it even possible that he had actually aroused himself to orgasm and had cum in his underwear? While I had been watching? He had me totally mesmerized.
He collected up his things, put his book away in his bag, shook his jacket out and put it on, before walking off in the direction of a couple of large office buildings on the other side of the Cathedral precinct. I decided to follow him; I don’t know why. I guess I was just so transfixed by that brief sight of a damp patch on his front, that I followed him all the way into one of the office buildings. In those days there was little in the way of security in office buildings and, in this one, there were many tenants and small businesses, so there were lots of people coming and going in the lobby. Before I realised what I was doing, I had followed him into this strange building and I saw him disappear into the gents at the back of the ground floor hallway. Now my imagination and curiosity were both working overtime; he was either going in there to clean-up after making a mess in his underwear – or he was going in to finish off what he had started outside! So I followed him in.
Inside the toilet, there was just one man at the urinals and there were four cubicles to one side. The cubicle at this end was occupied but the others were free and he went straight into the one at the far end. So I immediately went into the one next to him. So as not to attract suspicion, I took down my trousers and sat down, while I could hear him next door undoing his belt buckle and then also sitting down. I saw his black slip-on shoe under the partition to my side and his grey trousers slightly crumpled around his ankles.
It was then that I realised that there was a small hole in the partition at my side, just beside the toilet roll holder, where a previous screw-hole had obviously been enlarged by successive attempts with an assortment of pen-knives and pointed instruments. The hole was quite small but when I looked through it, I could see the top of his bare knees in the adjoining cubicle. The hole didn’t give me a wide field of view but I could just see that he seemed to have his legs spread apart a little and the arm nearest to me appeared to be on his bare leg with his hand down his front. The glimpse of this young man’s near nakedness was immediately arousing.
Outside the cubicles, there was some activity, with various comings and goings and washing of hands etc, so he probably wasn’t too aware of me in the next cubicle. I don’t think he was aware of the little spy-hole either. Either that or he was too intent on getting on with what he had started because, through the hole, I saw him now shuffle forwards and lean back, to reveal a completely naked tummy and a delightful bush of thick brown hair, from which was sprouting a very beautiful erection in his hand. My heart skipped a beat as I strained my position in front of the hole and was able to see that his foreskin was drawn back and the head of his penis was glistening with slimy pre-cum.
My heart skipped a few more beats as he began slowly stroking his slippery tool up and down with just the tips of his fingers. It was absolutely rock-hard and every so often, I would just detect little blobs of pre-cum oozing out of the top of his organ as he continued this gentle arousal of himself, completely unaware that anyone was deriving just as much enjoyment from it as he was. In fact, by this point, I had forced my arm awkwardly between my legs so as to get my own fingers around my tool, which was also issuing copious juices and was already fit to burst!
Gently but firmly, he continued sliding his fingers up and down his swollen organ, which must have been a good eight inches long and was pointing straight up in the air from his thick bush of pubic hair surrounded by an almost hairless, milky-white tummy and thighs. Then I noticed the rhythm of his stroking change and become firmer and more earnest and I detected his body shaking as he began to approach his climax. Suddenly, his hand stopped and just gripped his tool, hard and pointing dead straight upwards; and then he came. First there was just a little spurt of white cum, quickly followed by a jet of jism that shot straight up in the air and came down on his hand in front of my eyes, just as another shot went up, not quite as far this time, which landed on his hairless tummy, followed by 3 or 4 smaller spurts that dribbled down over his hand into the thick brown mat that was his pubic hair. His fingers moved just a little, up and down, to encourage the last few ejaculations.
His hand and bush were covered in cum by now, and I saw him relax and breathe in deeply. I couldn’t control myself; the excitement of what I had just secretly watched caused my own tool to erupt into my hand, still pushed down between my legs in the toilet on which I had been sitting. As I came uncontrollably, my vision went blank and my head fell forward and hit the partition above where I was looking through the spy-hole; if I had given away my position in the adjacent cubicle, it didn’t matter anymore! My heart was pounding in my throat, as I gasped for breath in relief.
He must have been clearing up his own mess while I was clearing mine because I heard the toilet paper being torn a few times and then rustling and then movement, as he got up and adjusted himself. I waited for him to flush the toilet and go out to wash his hands before I did the same. As I left the cubicle, he had his back to me at the sinks and in the mirror, our eyes met as I moved alongside him at the sinks. As I did this, I looked directly into his lovely brown eyes, winked at him and grinned, a knowing smile.
Instantly, I saw in his face the embarrassing realization that I knew what he had been doing, and he flushed bright red in his cheeks and looked away. His hands barely touched the roller-towel on the wall, as he shot out of the gents like a greyhound from a trap, never to be seen again.
Perhaps now you understand my choice of name when I first registered on this site!
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