*note: all characters in this story are over 18.
I congratulated myself for the good idea of bringing a picnic blanket to the little park. The day was very still but the heat rising off the grass was sweet and lively; the sunshine moist and heavy on my skin. Slow music ran in my earbuds. I was feeling good in my shirt and running shorts, feet wonderfully bare in the warm grass after months of winter, and my friends were supposed to arrive in a few hours. I put on my sunglasses and lay a long time, soaking, smelling the soil and plants, feeling grateful for the earth which always supports me, slowing my breathing to listen to the trees.
Presently my diaphragm woke me from my daze with a huge tingling sigh; rubbing my stomach hard, I turned over on my stomach to warm my back, something coming up in me that made me smile. I shifted in my position until I felt it, a tuft of grass pushing into my cock through the wool blanket. I relaxed, arms over my head, cheek pressing into the rough fabric, and sank into the little stream of my pleasure. It became insistent. I was nowhere near my apartment. Anticipating without checking first that there would be a porta potty in some corner of the park where I might take care of this, I started gently grinding my cock into the lump. I thought maybe the horniness would peter out and help me nap on that warm grass.
My mind registered a truck pulling into the gravel parking lot. The good part of me told me to stop doing something so lewd in a public park, and I lost myself in a horny fantasy for a while. The music kept spilling through my head. The sun laid heavily on me. My fantasies slowed and deepened; I relived a year of college fucking. And then something happened; I clicked back into the present, where my cock was hot in my underwear, stopping my hips mid-thrust.
Shit. I tried to feign laziness as I rolled onto my side, taking off my sunglasses to rub my face and then I saw the big shirtless man a few feet away, just looking at me. I raised a hand to shield my eyes and when I squinted, I made out dirty boots, baggy jeans, hairy thick chest, little wire neon-orange flags visibly poking out of his back pocket. He didn't move. My mouth watered, then dried. We looked at each other. Then, one big hand drifted from his side to his crotch; my mind jerked with the realization that he wasn't adjusting his jeans- the fabric wasn't loosening in his grip, it was crushing and wrinkling under his palm as he rubbed his bulge. I was paralyzed into the moment, I was just on this blanket with a big landscaping contractor grabbing his dick in front of me.
What's up, I asked him stupidly, trying to smile.
He smirks now, too. Mind if I join?
Oh, fuck yeah.