A Private Moment

Fuck lunch.

A twenty minute drive and I can be walking in the woods. I make it there in 15. The beautiful fall color here, leaves cloak the ground. a perfect fall day, around 48 degrees.

I crunch through the leaves, my mind scanning the thousands of thoughts that flash by. Bliss, just me and my thoughts, my desires. Couldn’t really tell you what I thought about, like I said they all raced together, but each was seen if only for a second.

I stop and take a drink from my water, leaning back against a large Secaymore tree, staring into what is left of the canopy of leaves. Some still green, most yellow; red and orange from the maples. Only the sound of the leaves rustling with in the wind and random scurying of a squirrel.

My mind grasps on the words and images I have read and seen today. The images are blurry while the sterile letters paint vivid pictures. I look at each picture I have read, with each I can feel myself grow harder, filling its length and girth. My hand drifts to the front of my jeans, urging it on.

My mind is suddenly stuck on those words; a 45 skipping. Over and Over. I remove my hand and just concentrate on them. Over and Over. Feeling myself strain against the material trapping them.

My hand wander to my belt buckle as my lungs inhale the last drag of mother nature. Buckle undone they once again run over my cock. I suck in a little more air. My fingers find the first button. My index finger and thumb flip it open.

I exhale, and flip the next button. I think about you sitting there wet and wanting. I want to be there, to be everything you want right now. From the gentle lover you dream of to the nasty perv you lust over. The third button is released. A picture snaps in my head of your sweet pussy; swollen and red, searching for its release.

With the fourth button, my cock escapes from not only my jeans, but from the slit in my boxers, feeling the cold air on it. The heat of myself and the cold of the fall day. I watch it twitch and relish the feeling on my flesh. I look down, watch it twitch for you. I want to touch it but I want to savor this feeling forever. I pull open the last two.

My hand pulls my balls out, they shrink up with the cold of the air. The warmth of my palm comforts them.

My hand grips my cock, just feeling it as it throbs for you. I stroke forward once and then back, then again. My mind again races into gear, images you have created for me too fast to grab hold of. Only seeing a glimipse, yet each is etched in my mind having seen the pictures you paint.

I jerk harder and with a firmer grip. Imaging my fingers are yours, your pussy getting more wet with each stroke. Me teasing you, sliding up and down your slit. As my thumb slips over my precum, imaging it is your wetness.

My strokes increase, faster, back and forth, tugging. The wind blows over my hot flesh, trying to cool it. Images will slow down only to speed by a second later. I am so close.

Not an image, but a phrase brings to me the brink. With silent grunts I feel my cock expand with the first gush. My clenched eyes open to watch my cock wash the fallen leaves with my cum. I keep on jerking back and forth. Finally my cum oozing over my fingers.

I can feel the cold wind over my skin, not just my cock, but over my being. The cold air yanks me back to reality. I watch myself drip as I stuff myself back in, seeing the stain on my boxers grow, and button back up. Seeing you. . .

Back to the office.