For the rest of the week, I can’t find you. It drives me mad, knowing you’re at the same university, but can’t officially meet you. I try checking the library, the parking lot, and the gym at all hours of the day, but no luck. I can’t fap without thinking of you, and even then, I can never finish.
Out of mental and sexual frustration, I head to the public library on Saturday. The university library where we met only really has academic books, and I’m in need of a good novel. The entire time I browse the shelves, I constantly check over my shoulder, down aisles, and through the shelves, hoping I might find you here. Still nothing.
I find a copy of the next book in a series I started reading over the summer and check it out at the counter. It’s just a young adult novel about ancient myths in modern-day America, but the library assistant gives me a sly look. I shrug it off and step out into the brisk fall air.
While I wonder if I’ll spot you as I walk back through campus, I want a change of pace and decide to read outside at the park behind the library. With the book under my arm and hands buried deep in my warm pockets, I stroll around the park, looking for a secluded spot, away from the chilling wind and view of others.
There’s only one place where I can hide from the public and the wind. A bench beside a birdbath in a crook of bushes and trees. The path spirals into the cubby, and in any other season, flowers would litter the topiary. Now, dead leaves rattle across the pavement and crunch underfoot. Even in the cold and fading season, enough leaves remain on the bush to protect me as I’d like.
Always one yearning for quiet, I walk silently, picking my way through the leaves and settle myself on the frigid stone bench. It’ll heat the longer I sit here, but I still tuck my coat beneath me for a limited barrier.
A few pages into the novel and I’m already disappointed. The author has sold out to progressive marketing, altering and killing off my favorite characters over the past few books. This one is no exception. Shaking my head, I speed read, it’s something to do to kill the time and takes my mind away from you.
My eyes scan the words without recognition, my mind caught in my thoughts about you. This isn’t working. I sigh and place a bookmark to save my spot, knowing I’m going to finish the book just so I can say I did.
Before I stand, I hear a squeaking gasp from behind me. I turn and look at the bush, expecting a squirrel or chipmunk to rustle the branches as it scurries away from me. Nothing seems to move. More interested in a woodland creature than returning to the dorm so soon, I sit still and wait.
Another gasp, but this time I know it’s not an animal. This cannot be happening. My mind races, filling in the blanks for me as the street noise dies down and I can hear a faint squelching. No. Fucking. Way.
My cock rises to the occasion, but stifling the urge, I silently crouch to my hands and knees and peer under the bushes. I see the corner of a blanket and place my cheek against the sidewalk. I see golden hair splayed out over the checkered pattern and a puffy black arm, pumping rhythmically.
I can’t deny it. Fate must smile upon me. I check over my shoulder and assure myself no one else would be out here in this cold. It’s just us weirdos.
So I do what any weirdo would do, stumbling upon you getting off in the bushes. I whip it out and start stroking to match you. I can’t believe how horny you are. I’ve never met anyone who masturbates in public, let alone in as many locations or as frequently as you.
I have to meet you for real, but I know now isn’t the best time. Despite three previous occasions of making eye contact during or post-exhibition, I don’t think things would play out the way I want if I interrupted you now.
My cock feels feverish in my hand compared to the temperature. Exposed to the cold air, my pre-cum bites into my urethra, in a good way. My pants and zipper don’t allow me to hit the base like I like, but I’ll take what I can get while you’re on display.
To avoid suspicion, just in case someone were to stumble upon me, laying on the freezing sidewalk, dick in hand, and beating it like it stole it, I position myself in a way that someone might think I was just laying on the ground. Still weird, but I could make something up about losing something.
I can’t really see what you’re doing, but the mystery only makes it hotter. I speed up with you and bite my lip to stop myself from groaning. My cock feels like it’s going to melt and freeze at the same time. Tingling vibrates through my groin up to my leaking head. My veins, constricted by the tight zipper, bulge in my hand, feeling harder than I’ve ever really felt before.
I imagine you catching me, crawling out of the bushes, and taking it into your own soft hand, still dripping with your juices. The imagined surprise on your face turns to heated desire. You drop your face and blow gently over my dickhead, lick the tip, and slowly take it into your warm mouth.
You seize up behind the bush, gasp sharply, and moan with a shaky voice as you cum. I open my eyes and point my cock away from myself as I shoot a steaming load over the cement. I grunt, not able to hold myself back and immediately suck in a quick breath.
You also gasp and freeze. For a moment, we don’t move or make a sound. Blood pounds in my ears as you slowly check under the bush and again make eye contact with me. You gasp silently and drop your jaw in astonishment. I want to smile sheepishly back, but. . . .
“What are you doing?”
I pale, and my heart sinks. Your eyes open wide in fear. I turn my head slowly and meet the inquisitive look of the library assistant. While her eyes are focused on mine, I single-handedly tuck myself away. Rolling away from my cum, I sit up and rub the dirt from my cheek.
“I dropped a pen, but I can’t find it.” My face burns crimson, but bending over can do that. I hope she doesn’t suspect anything, or that she saw what I was doing.
“I heard a grunt as I was walking by. Did you hurt yourself?” She shows no sign of knowing, only innocent concern. A few light brown strands of hair, missed by her ponytail, drift in the breeze over her glasses.
“I was just straining to reach under the bush, but it was only a root. I might have lost the pen.” I stand and rub the back of my neck.
“Was it special to you? I have a spare.” She twists her shoulder bag around and rummages through it.
“No, no. It’s fine. I have plenty back at my dorm. I just don’t like losing things. That’s all.”
“Oh, well, I can take a look.” She offers and drops to her knees without hesitation.
“You don’t have to.” I try to stop her, but she lays down in front of the bench and peers under. I bite my lower lip and wait in silence.
“Sorry, no luck.” She stands and grasps her bag strap across her chest.
My eyes lock onto my cum, now darkening her tan coat in strands of glistening brown. I look up at her quickly, but she’s caught my gaze, and notices her coat.
“Aw. Not sap. This is a new coat.” She picks at it with her finger. “Oh?” Unlike with sap, her finger comes away wet. She frowns and sniffs before wiping it off on her pants. “Well, it’s not sap. Did you get any on you?”
I can hardly keep a straight face, but check my own clothes, pleased to see I’m cum free.
“Well, sorry if I disturbed you. But I need to get back to my dorm as well. I still need to finish a paper tonight.”
“You go to the university here too?”
We chat for a moment, realizing we are in the same graduating class. With a wave, Sam heads off, and as soon as she is out of sight, I drop to the pavement, careful of the cum, and check under the bush.
You’re gone. Again. I groan and jump to my feet, brushing off my clothes. Looking at my library book, I rip the bookmark out and stomp to the return bin beside the library. The book thumps loudly in the hollow receptacle and I march back in the cold, thinking about you. If I hurry, maybe I can catch you before you disappear again. I jog back to campus, already horny again, as I replay our latest encounter.
