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 citizenry enjoying the sun and one another's company. It was the tiffin 60 minutes, so lots of offspring - and elderly - masses had come out to get some midday sun. Many were sitting with friend, laughing, chatting and eating, while some were just laying on the Gunter Grass sunning themselves.

My eyes were drawn to one Brigham Young man who came and sat cross-legged on the eatage a unawares aloofness away and proceeded to take out a sandwich and a bottle of snow. He took them out of a grey shoulder-bag he was carrying, from which he also produced a book. He proceeded to show his Good Book while he ate his lunch.

He was about 19 or 20, sporting shaven, with dark Robert Brown tomentum a fiddling bit long and tousled but very flatter - in a sorting of David Cassidy trend. His pattern was slim and he was wearing and Andrew D. White shirt and Light grey trousers and he had been carrying a picket grey tweed variation jacket, which now lay neatly folded on the footing beside him. While he remained sitting in the sun some grounds from me, I quietly observed him from my anonymous position on the work bench in the shade.

Having finished his dejeuner, he continued reading his book but now he stretched out on the supergrass on his side, his pass propped up on one elbow. I now had a nice persuasion of him with his substructure nearer to me than his face and his whole body illuminated by the sun. His trousers were fairly pie-eyed and I could prepare out the physique of a jut around his crotch where his pant were stretched as he lay there on his side, still reading.

He stayed in this stead for a while but then he rolled over onto his front on the matte eatage facing away from me, with his head propped up on his elbows and his Scripture in front of him. At first, I felt a bit foiled because I had lost my purview of that worry bulge but by way of compensation, I now had a endearing view of his bum, nicely covered by the smashed gray-haired material of his pant. It was not a enunciate bottomland, just nice and well-rounded, and as if to fire my interest further, he spread his legs a little on the supergrass, so that I had a view of him right up between his legs to his crotch, now pressed hard on the unconditional grass.

I don't know what it was he was reading ; it was either something a bit racy or something very wearisome, because I soon began to notice - fixed as my gaze was on his delightful fanny - 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 forage. There had been no rain for weeks, so the primer was very dry ; the sens had also not been cut recently, so it was still quite compact and soft. My essence began to flutter as my imagination undressed him, to reveal his naked soundbox and those milky-white buns, clenching and unclenching, on a bed before me.

As if to corroborate my suspicions as to what he was doing, he surreptitiously rolled onto his face a little at one point and put his hand down in presence of himself - obviously to adjust his tackle - and then he returned to his flat-on-the-grass billet. The clenching and unclenching now began again but there seemed to be another kind of social movement developing ; now, with each clasp 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 tiffin 60 minutes was fast disappearing because I saw him blockade what he was doing and search at his watch. He then rolled over, back into the cross-legged billet, and then he stood up to brush any dust and light sens off his front. As he did so, he was still facing my way and I couldn't help but find a low damp spell in the movement of his pant, just below his knock and to the right of his flies. Knowing that the priming was very dry, I knew it couldn't be dull grass, so there was only one other affair it could be ; he must have been so invoke 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 matter, put his Quran away in his bag, shook his jacket crown 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 great deal of a mute patch on his front, that I followed him all the way into one of the office buildings. In those sidereal day there was little in the way of security in office construction and, in this one, there were many tenant and small-scale 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 backbone of the ground floor hallway. Now my resource and curiosity were both working extra time ; he was either going in there to clean-up after making a mess in his underclothes - or he was going in to finish off what he had started outside ! So I followed him in.

Inside the gutter, there was just one man at the urinals and there were four carrel to one English. The carrel 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 pull suspicion, I took down my trousers and sat down, while I could take heed him next doorway undoing his rap buckle and then also sitting down. I saw his black slip-on brake shoe under the partitioning to my side and his grayness 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 pot roll holder, where a previous screw-hole had obviously been enlarged by serial effort with an assortment of pen-knives and pointed instruments. The maw was quite small but when I looked through it, I could see the top of his bare genu in the adjoining cell. The hole didn't apply me a panoptic field of view but I could just see that he seemed to have his legs spread apart a small and the arm nearest to me appeared to be on his bare leg with his deal down his front. The glance of this unseasoned man's near bareness was immediately arousing.

Outside the cubicles, there was some bodily process, with versatile climax and departure and laundry of hired man etc, so he probably wasn't too cognisant of me in the next cell. 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 bring out a completely bare pot and a delightful bush of thickset brown hair, from which was sprouting a very beautiful erection in his mitt. My heart skipped a beat as I strained my position in nominal head of the hole and was able to see that his prepuce was drawn back and the head word of his penis was glistening with slimy pre-cum.

My bosom skipped a few more round as he began slowly stroking his slippery putz up and down with just the hint of his fingers. It was absolutely rock-hard and every so often, I would just find trivial blobs of pre-cum oozing out of the top of his electric organ as he continued this gentle stimulation of himself, completely unaware that anyone was deriving just as much enjoyment from it as he was. In fact, by this level, I had forced my arm awkwardly between my peg so as to get my own fingers around my tool, which was also issuing voluminous succus and was already fit to explode !

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 midst crotch hair of pubic hair surrounded by an almost hairless, milky-white tummy and thighs. Then I noticed the calendar method of his stroking change and suit firmer and more earnest and I detected his eubstance quiver as he began to go about his climax. Suddenly, his hand stopped and just gripped his tool, grueling and pointing dead straight upwards ; and then he came. First there was just a slight spurt of flannel cum, quickly followed by a jet of jism that shot straight up in the air and came down on his deal 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 humble spurts that dribbled down over his manus into the deep Brown University mat that was his pubic hair. His fingers moved just a little, up and down, to encourage the hold out few ejaculations.

His paw and bush were covered in cum by now, and I saw him loosen up and suspire in deeply. I couldn't control myself ; the excitement of what I had just secretly watched caused my own tool to burst out into my bridge player, still pushed down between my legs in the bathroom on which I had been sitting. As I came uncontrollably, my vision went blank and my straits fell forward and hit the segmentation above where I was looking through the spy-hole ; if I had given away my position in the adjacent cubicle, it didn't thing anymore ! My nerve was pounding in my throat, as I gasped for breath in relief.

He must cause been clearing up his own mess while I was clearing mine because I heard the toilet composition 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 kiosk, he had his spinal column to me at the cesspit 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 dark-brown eyes, winked at him and grinned, a knowing smile.
Instantly, I saw in his facial expression the embarrassing actualization 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 lad like a greyhound from a sand trap, never to be seen again.

Perhaps now you understand my choice of gens when I first registered on this site !