Ryan & Mike & the Guys 1
Mike's Lunch Break.
In which Mike has lunch and Ryan has Mike.
I like to take my lunch break in the old parking lot next to the river. It's an odd lot; there's no boat access, the running path thru the woods is a half-mile down a street with no sidewalk, there's access from a ramp to the highway but not the highway itself and there's no bathroom like a rest stop has. It was either built by mistake or for them to store equipment when they work on the road, but they haven't in a long while. Its got a great view of the river and woods and it's quiet there. I bring a lunch there when I need a break from workload at the office or my wife's repeated calls are ruining my day.
So this day, I got a meatball sub, water, and a cookie at this great deli near work and headed for my time out place in my MINI convertible. It was practically empty and I backed in at the base of the hill so I could get the view of the river across the lot. I could have parked at the side by the river, but, inevitably, birds would land and shit on the car. Or in it. Also, parking back there allows a guy to step out behind the car and take a leak if he needs to.
This place makes a great meatball sub; tasty meatballs, rich sauce, baked with cheese to melt it all together. Problem was that great sauce, I usually dropped some on my shirt. This time I thought ahead and stepped out of my car. I undid my dress shirt and carefully laid it in the back seat so it wouldn't get wrinkled. The warm sun felt great on my bare chest; a slight breeze tickled thru my mat of chest hair, cool enough to make my nipples tighten. I arched back, hands on the small of my back, and felt the middle of my spine pop in relief.
I got back in, pushed the seat back, windows and roof open, put my water in the cup holder and unwrapped that sub. It was still warm, the bread pliable but crisped. I took a big bite and savored sub. I admit it, I gorged. The taste and feel of the warm meat and rich sauce filled my mouth as I bit thru the bread, crunchy on the outside and soft inside. Cheese swirled they it. Even as I was swallowing, I had that sub shoved in my mouth for the next bite.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror; mouth spread wide, bread stuffed in, sauce dripping down over the side of my lip. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the taste with the sun streaming in on me. As I swallowed, I reached into the bag for a napkin and wiped off my chin. That's when I glanced down and saw half a saucy meatball sitting on the crotch of my tan chinos. Fuck. I carefully removed the meat with my napkin and stared at the stain as I ate it out of the paper. I set the remains of the sub aside and used a fresh napkin to gently lift the sauce. Too late. it had already started soaking into the cloth and a very visible stain to the right of the lower part of my fly. Incredibly embarrassing. I shook head in futility and the glovebox caught my eye. I remembered that, at some point, I saw my wife throw one of those stain sticks in. I dug thru the napkins, maps, registration and found it nestled with pens and crayons. I uncapped it and rubbed the tip over the tomato sauce. Repeatedly. It seemed to be clearing, some at least, but was now soapy. I stared at the water bottle and knew I had to rinse it without looking like I pissed my pants.
I glanced around. There was a car parked up at the beginning of the lot at the river edge; birds were already sitting on it. On my side, there was a pickup truck 20-30 feet up with a guy eating lunch. I shrugged, kicked off my shoes, undid my pants, and slid them over my butt and down off my legs.
Now I was in black socks and white cotton briefs. For 32, I was in good shape and had a, mostly, flat stomach. Hairy; a trimmed matt across flat pecs that tapered down my belly to a love trail into a nest of pubes. I keep my pubes trimmed short and have been known to shave my balls and taint clean, not that my wife spends much time visiting down there; does the job and moves on. Last time, I found myself going further with the shave, so today I was sitting smooth; back, crack, and sack.
Still, a guy in underwear and socks looked like and old-time porn movie. I reached down and pulled off the socks. Yes, now I had on less but it slightly looked not as odd. Glancing around to assure there was no audience, I opened the door and swing around so my feet were on the running board and the pants over the pavement. I manuevered the chinos so most was away from the stain and held the water bottle mouth to the soapy cloth. I massaged water in and rinsed again. It looked better but now it looked like I had pissed my pants or, as the spot was minimal, cum in them. Neither was a great option. It'd be noticed and commented on before I got halfway back to my cube. I noted the hood glaring in the sun and just stood, walked around the door, and spread the pants to dry. The sun was hot, so hopefully they'd dry quick. I glanced around, fully aware of standing out in a parking lot in briefs. And now I had to piss. In for a penny and all, I walked toward the back of the car, flipped my junk over the waistband, and let the stream hit the weeds. It felt nice standing mostly naked and pissing in the sun. I felt my dick stir and start to swell. Finished, I shook it off, stuffed it away, and got back in the car. My heart was pounding at the rush of being in public like that and felt my dick shift as it got harder.
I grabbed the sub, still warm enough, and leaned back to enjoy the second half. It was pretty satisfying, leaning back in my mini, eating my favorite sub, sprawled mostly naked in my fruit-of-the-looms with a hardening cock. This was a good life. I gave my cock a squeeze for luck.
"What's with the pants?"
My mouth full, hand still on my dick, I whipped my head to the left to see him standing there. First thought: his biceps were pumped. Like 2 softballs. His arms were long and wrapped in muscle and golden red hairs. His hands, like paws, were in front of him with his thumbs hooked into the waistband of dirty, worn, jeans. They were pushing the band down and a tangle of dark red hair and white skin was showing below a dirty, greyed t-shirt with the sleeves cut off. My gaze moved up to wide, flat pecs pressed against the fabric. A square jaw, stubbled in dark red. A grinning mouth, moustache, and his eyes. I locked on his eyes, crystal clear blue.
I started to answer but my mouth was full of sub. I gestured and mumbled out "mouth... meatballs".
He laughed. "Nothing like a guy with a mouthful of balls."
I swallowed as he said this and started to laugh, choking on my throatful of food. I felt a rough paw rub and pat my back as I choked, swallowed, then coughed. "Sorry. You ok?" he asked, his hand still on the center of my upper back. He rubbed a circle there and slid his palm up to the back of my neck, cupped the back of my head. He stepped back, his hand drifting slowly over my neck, across my shoulder, to hook back in the front of his jeans and pushing them down.
"Sorry for catching you by surprise. Figured you heard me approach. Nobody else here." I glanced past him and noted the sedan had driven off.